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While cross-disciplinary analysis of ghosts and haunting has burgeoned in recent decades, much of this scholarship presumes the figure of the ghost as a less than literal apparition. We propose that writers such as Jacques Derrida and Avery Gordon, who make use of the ghostly as a trope, are in fact describing a phenomenon we term secondary haunting, distinct from accounts of unquiet spirits who address the living directly with specific demands for redress: a visceral and often frightening experience we term primary haunting. Drawing on a contemporary account of the ghosts of a massacre in a Vietnamese village, we explore the complex interaction of primary and secondary haunting, the different kinds of memory work they engage in and the different moral communities they mobilize.
This article challenges the tendency, both academic and popular, to assign empathy the status of a virtue. The widespread inclination to associate empathy with the morally and socially “good”—with compassion, understanding, cultural bonding, and non-violent sociality—ignores what we propose to call the “dark side of empathy”: that is, the multiple ways in which empathy is routinely deployed to manipulate, seduce, deceive, and dehumanize others by means of vicariousness. Two diverse ethnographic cases, of hunting in Siberia and political violence in Indonesia, provide the empirical background for a discussion of the complex relationship of empathy to mimesis, deception, violence, and sociality.
Amid its human and material tolls, the Vietnam War has given rise to a curious enterprise—the complex process of recovering and repatriating the remains of U.S. service members Missing In Action (MIA) and presumed dead. In this trade, the bones that “count” are American and the aims underwriting the forensic efforts to return them are rooted in an ideology of national belonging.The resultant exchange of both knowledge and physical remains has developed through two historically intertwined ventures: state-sponsored casualty resolution efforts; and the much smaller, informal trafficking of skeletal remains, identification media, and information about American MIAs. This article examines how these sought-after bones tack between roles as objects of recovery, sale, or barter, scientific study, ritual burial, and public commemoration. Through their mutable worth, MIA remains illustrate the dynamic symbolism of war dead that evokes differing sensibilities about familiar or foreign soil, about care and belonging. Like the reliquiae of medieval Christianity, remains of missing service members, even in the most fragmentary form, are replete with the suggestion of power. Their pursuit depends on reciprocity. Indeed, more than just powerful symbols, these bones manifest and confer power itself, as caring for war dead demonstrates authority, and such authority falls to those who control access to the desired object, whether through formal or informal channels. Furthermore, power requires authentication, and the remains of missing American war dead become, in this system of circulation and exchange, a means to demonstrate knowledge, perform certainty, or exploit ambiguity.
The novelist and essayist Elizabeth Hamilton (1756?–1816) received her education at a day school from the age of eight, and later recalled her childhood and schooldays fondly. However, intellectual girls in the period were regarded with some suspicion, and she remembered hiding from visitors those books that might be deemed inappropriate for a young woman. Later embarking on a literary career, she published in 1801 her Letters on Education, republished in this second edition of 1801–2. Owing much to the theories of John Locke as well as the period's standard conduct-book advice on the education of girls, Hamilton's work offers detailed theoretical explorations of how children learn. 'Be not afraid my good friend,' she writes, 'that I intend making speculative philosophers of your daughters.' Volume 1 includes comments on the 'pernicious effects of parental partiality', considering also 'contempt for the female character' and 'pride of station'.
Prior to its publication in 1830, the draft of this work by Sir Henry Parnell, later Baron Congleton (1776–1842), was praised by John Stuart Mill, who said he could 'not see that it is possible to lay down the principles of political economy more broadly'. Chair of the select committee on public income and expenditure during the Duke of Wellington's first ministry, Parnell called for greater retrenchment and reduced taxation. He also argues here that 'the passage of merchandise from one state to another … ought to be as free as air and water', denouncing the supporters of protection as 'among the greatest enemies of mankind'. A later pamphlet by Parnell, A Plain Statement of the Power of the Bank of England (1832), highly critical of the Bank's monopoly, is included in this reissue. His Treatise on Roads (1833) is reissued separately in the Cambridge Library Collection.
Being the Account of a Journey from India to Cabool, Tartary and Persia; Also, Narrative of a Voyage on the Indus, from the Sea to Lahore, with Presents from the King of Great Britain
Aged sixteen, Alexander Burnes (1805–41) took up a post in the Bombay army, and speedily learned both Hindustani and Persian. His skills led him to political work, and he himself proposed a covert expedition to Bukhara, to survey the country, but also to observe the expansionist activities of the Russians in central Asia. In 1832, he set off, with an army doctor, and two Indians as surveyor and secretary. They travelled in local dress and adopted whatever personas a situation required. Having reached Bukhara, they continued overland to the Caspian Sea, and then to Tehran, returning to Bombay by sea in 1833. This three-volume account of his adventures, published in 1834, was an instant bestseller. Volume 2 completes the journey, and describes the geography and history of central Asia. Burnes continued his diplomatic activities in Afghanistan, but was murdered there by a mob in 1841.