Monthly Archives: May 2013

Coconut Custard Pie


This recipe is extremely easy. Even though my mama and Nanny bake delicious pies left and right, this is the first pie I’ve ever made, and it tastes great (but then again I may be biased!)


2 cups milk

2 1/2 cups flaked coconut

4 eggs beaten

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

3/4 cup all-purpose flour or bisquick

3/4 cup white sugar (if you use sweetened coconut flakes, you may want to use only about 1/2 cup sugar.  Or, if you love sweet things, then go ahead and use 3/4 cup!)

2 tablespoons margarine or butter softened



1) Preheat oven to 350°

2) Combine all ingredients, mix well, and pour into 9 inch buttered pie pan.

3) Bake for 50 to 60 minutes or until golden brown and knife inserted in the center comes out clean.

Over the course of baking, the pie layers itself into layers: a thin crust, custard and coconut topping. 

Now, go enjoy it!

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waterboarding = baptism in freedom




Knock Knock Freedom




Kids in North America

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Mothers in the Fatherland


Koonz, Claudia.  Mothers in the Fatherland:  Women, the Family, and Nazi Politics.  New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1987. 

In an interesting and provocative book, Koonz evaluates women’s role in the world created by the Nazis.  Ultimately, Koonz concludes that “Far from remaining untouched by Nazi evil, women operated at its very center,” (6) and “women made possible a murderous state in the name of concerns they defined as motherly” (5).

Central to Koonz’s argument is the fact that, from the beginning, Nazi ideology was based on two distinctions: Aryan versus Jew (and all non-Aryans) and man versus woman.  In other words, Koonz sees racism and sexism as two basic tenets of Nazism.  Just as Aryans were superior to Jews, men were better than women, and this was seen as representing the natural order of things.  Koonz argues that women, or Nazi women in particular, were willing to accept their inferior (“traditional”) status in return for rewards that varied from material goods to social prestige and honor.  But Koonz shows that many Nazi women wanted more than a “Mother’s Cross” in exchange; they wanted greater control over their own social sphere.

To understand women’s stance in Nazi Germany, Koonz rightly argues that one must first look at the Weimar period.  The women who would later become “Nazi women” did not view the emancipation of women during the Weimar period as an emancipation at all. They had to take up civic responsibilities that they weren’t required to before; they also felt more burdened by having to work to earn wages, wages lower than those paid to men.  Essentially, they felt that they were being forced to give up traditional values and roles (48).  There existed among women, then, a desire “for a society based on what sociologist William Goode called the “family of western nostalgia” (219).  The Nazi Party offered such a vision, while also not demanding that women take part in the politics of it all, which is the explanation Koonz offers for why women did not simply join other conservative parties.

But, a return to traditional values (including separate spheres for men and women) did not mean that women expected to be told what to do. Nazi women “hated the New Woman, but did not under any circumstances dream of returning women to narrow housewifely tasks” (122).  Nazi women organized and planned for the creation of a feminine Lebensraum inside Germany, a “social space” where women worked independent of men’s authority to help implement the Nazi vision as nurses, teachers, and social workers (7).  But Koonz portrays these women as naïve, because once the Nazis took power it became clear that women could organize, but they would obey the men’s orders (172).  Koonz also shows that while women perceived  the home as being “their” sphere, separate from the world of politics, the family actually became the site where Nazi ideology became personal, where good Nazis could be raised.  Therefore the notion of separate spheres was more or less a sham (389).

But it was important that men and women continued to perceive the home and private self as a separate spheres from work and the pubic self.  Indeed, this is how Nazi wives helped contribute to murder.  By offering a traditional, feminine home where Nazi men felt loved, women offered a place where men could “touch base” and feel human again before going back to work at a death camp the next day (418).  Moreover, Koonz suggests that many women knew what their husbands did, and so reassured him that what he did (public) was separate from who he was (private).  While some of her conclusions may be questionable, Koonz shows us that women were instrumental in implementing Nazi vision, and moreover, they perceived themselves as the harbingers of Nazi values.  That’s what makes their story so important.

For a longer list of books on German history, see my post here

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European Mass Culture in the Context of Global War


European Mass Culture in the Context of Global War

The twentieth century was very much a European century.  European imperialism reached new heights and on two occasions European conflicts grew to engulf the globe in war.  Each of the books we read for this session address cultural aspects that contributed to these far-reaching forces of change on the “dark continent.”  Volker Berghahn seeks to explain the “orgy of violence” that erupted from Europe between 1914 and 1945. He attempts to look beyond surface level political causes and to instead explain the structural mechanisms of peace and violence in terms of material well-being.  Simonetta Falasca-Zamponi also draws our attention to deeper shifts in Western culture to help explain the rise of fascism in Italy.  By bringing in the lens of aesthetics, she challenges us to reimagine the way we view politics and how they interact with other spheres of life.  James Andrews also examines the connections between the state and civilian society by looking at the ways in which two separate Russian regimes interacted with scientific organizations that were working on the popularization of science.  Moreover, by situating his study in Russia, Andrews prompts us to question what is meant by “European” and whether or not Russia can be included in that definition.  And finally, Erez Manela directly confronts the definition of European, civilized, and modernized by exploring the ways the 1919 Versailles Treaty affected colonized people across the globe.  By removing Europe from the center of the story, Manela forces us to rethink our concepts of “center” and “periphery” as well as the role that European powers were perceived as playing in international politics.

In Europe in the Era of Two World Wars: From Militarism and Genocide to Civil Society, Volker Berghahn lays out his argument for why Europe fell into total war twice during the twentieth century.  According to Berghahn’s model, Western civilization stood at a cross roads at the dawn of the twentieth century. These cross roads represented two different paths into the modernized, industrialized future.  On the one hand was a civilian model of modern society, in which the modes of production were used to mass-produce consumer goods that were then peacefully mass consumed by a democratic civilian populace.  Berghahn then offers the United States as the epitome of this civilian model (5).  The other option for organizing modern society, according to Berghahn, was the militaristic model.  In this model, “violent men” controlled the government to use the industrial processes to produce weapons of war in order to achieve imperial or racial goals.  The twist in this model is that these products that were mass-produced were not mass consumed, but rather consumed civilians through warfare and death.

Berghahn’s book then, is the story of how European societies faced this confrontation between two competing ways of organizing modern life.  He offers three obstacles to the realization of the dream of “creating a civilian mass-production and mass-consumption society” before 1914:  First, violence still persisted at high levels in schools, the home (strict patriarchy), and in/through the armies.  Second, the unequal distribution of the gains caused by capitalism created tension among classes of people.  And third, and most important, the institution of imperialism, which he understands as Europeans’ attempt to bring up their own standard of living was based on a system of violent exploitation (11-16).  Berghahn understands imperialism as one of the three types of totalitarianism, alongside Communism and fascism (21).  In fact, he concludes the interwar years of 1919-1938 could not be a successful phase of re-stabilization because the stability at home in Europe depended on the continued exploitation of the colonies and the non-Western world (72).

What made the two World Wars different than previous wars was the fact that military leaders and other “violent men” realized that, because of technological advances, any new war would be all encompassing.  Moreover, there was less of a push to protect civilians from this type of war because in a total war, the line between civilian and combatant was blurred or all together ignored.  In addition, authors such as Jünger and Ludendorff, who believed in always being fully mobilized for a total war, “provided the men of violence of the interwar years with not only the pseudo-justifications but to a considerable degree the recipes for their deeds” (84).  This militaristic model of organization penetrated all levels of society so that by 1939, violent measures against civilians had become an integral part of the German way of warfare (100). Berghahn then concludes that ultimately the American model of civilian organization was triumphant.  Fortunately, the destroyed Western European nations were able to pick and choose what they wanted to import from the American model, so that “Europe, too, became a region of the world whose societies were civilian-industrial in outlook” (139).

Berghahn’s argument is a materialistic one in that everything depends on material-well being.  It seems that civilians are only able to interact peacefully and keep “violent men” at bay if they have products to consume.  Moreover, the way that Berghahn discusses violence, it seems that it is something that is contagious and spreads outward from “violent men” to infect an otherwise peaceful human nature, which I don’t find incredibly convincing.  Lastly, he speaks of the triumph of the civilian model over the militaristic one, but what about the fact that the “violent men” of both World Wars were only defeated by violence?

In Fascist Spectacle: the Aesthetics of Power in Mussolini’s Italy, Simonetta Falasca-Zamponi also seeks to explain violent phenomena of the twentieth century, though she focuses specifically on the emergence of fascism.  Unlike Berghahn, she does not focus on modes of consumption, but instead uses the notion of art as a lens to understand the rise of fascism in Italy.  Falasca-Zamponi argues that until her book was written, Emilio Gentile’s notion of fascism as a “political religion” had been a convincing way of understanding the movement.  But, in her book, she argues that fascism should bee seen as an aesthetic, a set of principles similar to those that drive an art form.  In this light, the politician is seen as an artist, sculpting a creation out of his people.

Falasca-Zamponi shows that fascism was only able to emerge and take root as the result of a historical nexus of conditions that was unique to that period.  One condition was the creation of “the masses,” which we have studied in another session.  Several factors contributed to the creation of the masses, including communication technology and an expanding print culture.  A second condition was the “arts for art’s sake” movement, which disassociated art from the arousal of the physical senses.  Under this movement, art was meant to be created and appreciated simply for what it was, rather than for how it made the viewer feel.  A third condition is what she calls the larger shift from the emphasis on “character” to “personality” in Western culture. Earlier, one was meant to embody “character,” which encompassed controlling one’s impulses and making oneself presentable in public.  Falasca-Zamponi argues that new technology and new disorders placed a greater emphasis on “the self” (as opposed to the social cohesion that was kept by members all representing proper character), and thus led to an emphasis on personality, which included “being yourself” while still being likable.  In this model, individuals with strong personalities could both be themselves and compel others to like them (45-46).  A fourth condition that was unique to Italian culture was Italian history; the presence of Rome in Italian history, coupled with the continued presence of the seat of the Catholic Church meant that Italians were accustomed to both a glorious (and glorified) past as well as being surrounded by the pomp, circumstance, and pageantry of the Church.

All of those conditions allowed for the possibility of fascism’s success in Italy.  Mussolini, whom Falasca-Zamponi quotes extensively, saw himself as an artist, a creator.  Under the particular fascist aesthetic (which was never static or complete, but constantly evolving), the politician was an artist who should sculpt the effeminate masses to unlock potential and create powerful soldiers for the cause.  But under the “art for art’s sake” mentality, the artist had no ethical boundaries, and therefore the politician had no ethical limits to what he could or should do.  Mussolini’s personality was perceived as exceptional and this allowed him to step into the role of leader, artist, and creator in one.

Mussolini and his fascists were preoccupied with crafting particular images of the movement.  They created specific (and largely false) histories and myths for themselves, but Falasca-Zamponi reveals the reflexive nature of symbols and myths.  While fascists may have created, through their cultural and political power, particular myths and symbols (ways of speaking, dressing, and living), these symbols took on a life of their own and then defined what the fascists could do from that moment on (118).  In this light, the aims the fascists set for themselves (constant movement, creation, vitality through conflict and violence against bourgeois materialism, capitalism, individualism, and liberal democracy) meant that international war was inevitable.  Once the Italian masses had been sculpted into perfection and inner enemies ousted, the only option open to the fascist movement, which portrayed itself in melodramatic terms as more than a political regime, was to expand its violent vision outwards.

James Andrews’ Science for the Masses: the Bolshevik State, Public Science, and the Popular Imagination in Soviet Russia, 1917-1934 brings our discussion away from violence, and directs our attention to another aspect of European mass culture: the popularization of Western science from the late nineteenth century to the 1930s.  Whereas we saw a complete intrusion of the government into the private sphere in Falasca-Zamponi’s study, Andrews shows us a delicate coexistence of private and state sponsored endeavors to spread scientific knowledge among the masses.  In imperial Russia, the popularization of science was tied to education, and was organized by voluntary scientific organizations through museums and journals.  As with the music journals in Applegate’s Bach in Berlin, print culture played a defining role in the popularization of science in Russia.  After the 1917 revolution, the Bolshevik state provided both political and financial support to these popularization efforts because they were in line with Bolshevik campaigns to spread Enlightenment education and ideals.  Under the New Economic Policy era of the 1920s, the science popularization movement boomed because of increased funding from the state, and the fact that the Soviet state found it important to maintain non-governmental associations (172).  Moreover, because of ties between state officials, association leaders were able to better navigate through the new Bolshevik bureaucracy (59).

Stalin’s cultural revolution, which began in 1928, changed all of this, though.  Enlightenment ideals were now seen as vestiges of a liberal, bourgeois period, and so it became official policy that scientific knowledge was no longer to be pursued or taught for its own sake.  Instead, the emphasis was on the utilitarian aspects of science.  In other words, the masses were no longer seen as creators of knowledge, but instead as the recipients of state-approved knowledge.  But Andrews shows that not everyone was willing to accept this new approach to science that was filled with Soviet propaganda about the superiority of Soviet science and technology.  Workers were able to somewhat define their own interests and let it be known that they did not like the propaganda with a side of science; instead, they wanted applicable, technical training for their jobs.

Examining this study on Russian history raises several questions pertinent to our sessions:  What is modern and what is European?  It is often argued whether or not Russia is a part of Europe, and I think that Andrews’ book shows that perhaps it is important to ask when can Russia be considered European.  Both under an imperial government and a Bolshevik socialist one, Enlightenment ideals spread, sometimes with substantial government support.  It was not until 1928 that the Stalinist government decided to control rather than support scientific knowledge and purposefully identify against Western Enlightenment ideals.  Perhaps at this moment, Russia becomes less European?  It is interesting to also note that Andrews’ book challenges us to rethink 1917 as a complete breaking point in Russian history, because in some ways there are far more continuities across the 1917 line than breaks.

Erez Manela’s The Wilsonian Moment: Self-Determination and the International Origins of Anticolonial Nationalism continues this endeavor of questioning European values and how far they reach beyond the geographic confines of Europe itself.  This study zooms out to look at Europe and America through the lens of Europe’s colonies, areas that are very “European” in the sense that they are an important way European societies define themselves.  Manela studies the effects that Woodrow Wilson’s rhetoric about a new world order based on self-determination and liberal democracy had on colonized people around the world.  Wilson’s 1917 speech (and other subsequent ones) laid the groundwork for what Manela calls “the Wilsonian moment,” which lasts from the fall of 1918, when an Allied victory in the war was assured, to the spring of 1919 when the failure of the Wilsonian promise became apparent.

This Wilsonian moment created an atmosphere of encouragement and hope among nationalists pushing for independence in Egypt, India, China, and Korea.  Though representatives from all of these colonies were barred from the peace negotiations in 1919 (except China, which was not officially a colony, but was the victim of a web of arrangements by foreign powers that checked its sovereignty), nationalists in these territories were able to use Wilson’s rhetoric of self-determination in an attempt to claim their place in the new international order.  The greatest contribution of Manela’s work is that it reveals how anti-colonial nationalism cannot be understood in national terms, but must be viewed in an international context.  Egyptian, Indian, Chinese, and Korean nationalists called for self-determination based on the new international standards that Wilson laid out; they sought to present their case on an international stage; and finally, they sought the aid of international pressure against their colonizer to help them achieve their goal of independence.  Moreover, international media allowed nationalists to know that other peoples were also pushing for similar goals (64).  Manela draws special attention to how the presence of so many Korean patriots abroad played a decisive role in Korea’s national movement.  These Korean patriots living abroad, who were dedicated to international, cosmopolitan liberalism, were able to get around the Japanese censors to gain and share information with Koreans back home and with the world on Korea’s behalf.

Beyond showing how movements for national determinism were placed squarely in international developments, Manela’s book helps explain why anti-colonial revolts broke out across the globe in the spring of 1919.  As it became apparent that Wilson’s promises were meant only for European nations, nationalists elsewhere realized that they were going to get no support from the American president that they had, only months before, adored as a sage-like savior.  But instead of losing hope from the fact that Wilson himself wasn’t going to help, these nationalists still saw power in Wilson’s rhetoric, and so they harnessed it and switched gears.  The first few months of 1919 were filled with revolts and uprisings in Egypt, India, Korea, and China; in each case, independence was won, even if it took decades to achieve it.  But, it’s important to realize that it was only after these nationalists understood the Wilsonian moment as a failed promise that they turned to open confrontation as an answer to their problems.

Ultimately, Manela’s work is a study of power: political power, the power of ideas, and the power of words and their (un)intended consequences.  The revolt against the West by anti-colonialists was not a result of the Great War, but was instead a direct result of the failure of the idealized peace that came afterwards.  While politicians attempted to keep political power flowing from the metropole to the colonies, Wilson attempted to define what it meant to be modern, enlightened, and civilized.  What peoples on the peripheries of the Versailles negation didn’t realize was that Wilson’s definition was narrow, had a blatant racial component, and was only meant to be applied to the West.  But, the power of Wilson’s words could not be undone, and the anti-colonialists took his rhetoric and launched revolts with them.  Manela concludes that while many viewed 1919 as an expansion of imperialism for Great Britain and France, the moment actually laid the groundwork for imperialism’s undoing (11).

In fact, all of these studies reveal how the modern era – with its developments in technology – allowed words and ideas to take on new powers.  On a basic, yet important level, technology allowed more efficient communication among a larger group of people in further corners of the world.  But as Vanessa Schwartz and others have shown, technology (along with other cultural developments) allowed for individuals to think of themselves as one part of a larger “people” or populace.  In short, the modern period saw the creation and rise to prominence of “the masses” as not only an audience, but also an important political tool and player to be considered in all decisions.  These masses acted as both the receptors and tools of political leaders’ ideas, as well as the inspiration for and creators of other ideologies.  As we have seen, the masses allowed for fascism and wide scale violence, but the masses also helped nurture the popularization of Enlightenment ideals and movements for national self-determination.  These are all parts of the European story.

Books under review: 

  1. Manela, Erez. The Wilsonian MomentSelf-Determination and the International Origins of Anticolonial Nationalism. Oxford, New York: Oxford University Press, 2007.
  2. Berghahn, Volker, R. Europe in the Era of two World Wars: From Militarism and Genocide to Civil Society. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2006.
  3. Andrews, James T. Science for the Masses: The Bolshevik State, Public Science, and the Popular Imagination in Soviet Russia, 1917-1934. College Station, TX: Texas A&M University Press, 2003.
  4. Falasca-Zamponi, Simonetta, Fascist Spectacle: The Aesthetics of Power in Mussolini’s Italy. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1997.

For a longer list of books on Modern European History, see my post here

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European Mass Culture in the Context of Global War by W. J. Newsome is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

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The Trouble with Nature


Lancaster, Roger N.  The Trouble with Nature:  Sex in Science and Popular Culture.  Berkley: University of California Press, 2003. 

Subject: In an entertaining study, Lancaster explores the ways in which sex science (studies into the causes of (homo)sexuality) have been represented in US popular culture since the 1990s.

Main Arguments: Writing as an anthropologist, Lancaster approaches the subject firmly through the social constructionist-lens and is, from the start, very skeptical (bordering on hostile) to the essentialist view of biological science.

Essentially, he’s arguing that the progress/explosion of research into the gay gene, gay brain, or sex gene (as well as a slew of other genetically determined characteristics, including a sweet tooth) comes as a direct result of the anxieties that emerged in the 1990s as a result of the social changes in gender relations.  In other words, this bio-reductionist research was meant to re-shore up “traditional” gender roles by finding biological ‘causes’ for men’s aggressiveness, women’s timidity, and the naturalness of heterosexuality.  This research doesn’t, Lancaster argues, reveal actual discoveries.

So, why does the general population think so?  For several reasons: 1) the nature of genes is oversimplified so that the public can understand them.  It’s much easier to think that there is an “intelligence gene” or an “addiction gene” that controls these issues than to explain and understand that thousands of biological and environmental factors control things like intelligence, athletic ability, etc.  2) More importantly, the public wants to believe that masculinity and sexuality are in their genes, because at least that is stable.  Moreover, many LGBT activists are proponents of an essentialist view because that would take homosexuality out of their hands, thus guaranteeing their place as a sexual and political minority deserving rights.

While Lancaster does spend some time on representations of science – and homosexuality in general – in the media and in TV shows (Will & Grace is one of his favorites to discuss!) – more important for us is his treatment of science.  He argues that science, as we currently understand it (as objective pursuits of knowable, indisputable facts) is only one narrative, one way of knowing and organizing reality.  Science is a “story-telling practice that offers its audience schema for daily living.”  In this view, science is just one of many narratives competing to make sense of our worlds.

By its very nature, science naturalizes sexuality and thus establishes the dominance of heterosexuality (and monogamous heterosexuality in particular) because it reproduces the species.  Therefore, any non-reproductive, non-genital, non-heterosexual acts become unnatural, deviant, and genetic errors (even though the cause of those mistakes are out of our control, and are – in fact – “natural” in origin, in that they are found in mistakes in our biology).

Lancaster claims that this approach is simplistic and goes against all of the social scientific data that has been collected by anthropologists, historians, and other scholars of the humanities.  Their research backs up the social constructionist approach by showing that different cultures in different times throughout time have understood and conceptualized sexuality and gender in a number of historically specific ways.

My Comments:

This is an interesting and useful book for anyone wanting to do work with contemporary subjects.  As an anthropologist, he’s good at critically reading documents and finding out how different symbols are imbued with different meanings and interpreted differently by different people.  His tone is light-hearted and entertaining, but this more relaxed feel has a downside: sometimes it feels very unorganized – or at least not very well organized.  Moreover, he perpetuates the essentialist/constructionist debate (coming down firmly in favor of social constructionism), but I’m not sure how helpful that is – I’ve been looking for something that either bridges the gap or moves beyond that debate.  This is not that work.

But, I can say, he was helpful in portraying science as just one mode of understanding, instead of being the search for “real” truth that is later “socially constructed” in different ways.  Seeing the whole enterprise of science itself as a narrative or as itself socially constructed was helpful in making the connection as to why we’re so willing to accept biological determinism.

For a longer list of books on the history of sexuality, see my post here

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