This article focuses on two mass spectacles performed in Paris stadiums in 1937, one Catholic and the other Communist, both of which sought to picture the ideal city with the working people at centre stage. By studying these productions in the light of recent research on fascist theatre and politics, and with reference to the debate on ‘modernity’ in interwar France, the article explores the French use of theatre in responding to the aesthetic, political and social challenge of representing the masses. The parallels between these two little-known productions can also be used to illuminate a wider rivalry to orchestrate the masses and to portray them as a united national community.

After the liberation in 1945, two conflicting narratives of the war experience were formulated. A consensus narrative presented the Danish nation as being united in resistance while a competing narrative, which also stressed the resistance of most Danes, depicted the collaborating Danish establishment as an enemy alongside the Germans. This latter narrative, formulated by members of the resistance movement, was marginalised after the war and the consensus narrative became dominant. The resistance narrative survived, however, and, from the 1960s, it was successfully retold by the left, both to criticise the Danish alliance with the ‘imperialist’ United States, and as an argument against Danish membership of the EC. From the 1980s, the right also used the framework of the resistance narrative in its criticism of Danish asylum legislation. Finally, liberal Prime Minister Anders Fogh Rasmussen started using it as his basic narrative of the war years (partly in order to legitimise his government's decision to join the war against Iraq in 2003). The war years have thus played a central role in Danish political culture since 1945, and in this process the role of historians has been utterly marginal.

This article examines the life and times of Richard Scheringer, an army officer and supporter of Adolf Hitler who became famous during the early 1930s for his high-profile conversion to communism. Known in the closing years of the Weimar Republic as a point-man for Communist efforts to win support from the radical right, Scheringer survived the Third Reich to become a leading figure in the postwar Communist Party. His well-documented but little-studied career, bridging critical caesurae of modern Germany history, highlights the unique political constellation of the interwar period, demonstrating fundamental continuities in the relationship of German communism to the nation before and after 1945.

This article seeks to explain the emergence of the CAP between 1958 and 1968. It draws attention to four particular political factors that made the policy’s birth possible, despite the vagueness of the Treaty of Rome commitment to an agricultural policy and the unpromising precedents of earlier attempts to integrate Europe’s agriculture. These were the strength of the coalition pushing for the CAP’s emergence (primarily composed of France, the Netherlands and the European Commission), the weakness and inconsistencies of their opponents (Germany and Italy), the favourable international context, and the incremental nature of the policy’s development. The article further argues that the complexity of the bargaining over the farm support policy, and the manner in which CAP discussions often became entwined with other seemingly unrelated aspects of EEC decision-making, illustrate how even the early Community of the 1960s was sufficiently complex to require a radical change of approach from those who wish to study its historical development.

Economic history, in France at least, sometimes suffers from rather shallow thinking, the result of a lack of communication with other human sciences whose concepts and fields of investigation it appropriates without reciprocation. There are, of course, exceptions to this rule as is seen in a number of studies based on the analysis of institutions and organisations, on discourse or representation analysis, or in some divergent field of economics inspired by conventional theory or the Regulation School, which is influential in France and Belgium but little known elsewhere.

The time has come for researchers into innovative movements in art and literature in the first half of the twentieth century to break free from traditional investigative frameworks. The works reviewed here belong to different disciplines – art history, literary history, literary criticism, history – but all show a shift of perspectives in the history of culture. They point to a reassessment of the theoretical models we use to understand modern art and literature. Those models are – in this case as they relate to the avant-garde – nuanced, refined, developed and sometimes even invalidated. Though some of these works are not wholly devoted to the European avant-gardes, they do deal with the international circulation of modern art in, to or from Europe, studied here in its lesser-known aspects. Moreover, they all to some extent examine the artist’s responsibility to the community, or the state’s responsibility to art. This theme of responsibility runs through all these works, either in its ethical dimension or as an aspect of the social function of art, especially when art has to confront an entertainment culture or is roped in as part of cultural policy.

In July 1945, Rabbi Leo Baeck remarked that the Third Reich had destroyed the historical basis of German Jewry. ‘The history of Jews in Germany has found its end. It is impossible for it to come back. The chasm is too great’. Heinz Galinski, a survivor of Auschwitz who led West Berlin’s Jewish community until his death in 1992, could not have disagreed more strongly. ‘I have always held the view’, he observed, ‘that the Wannsee Conference cannot be the last word in the life of the Jewish community in Germany’. As these diverging views suggest, opting to live in the ‘land of the perpetrators’ represented both an unthinkable and a realistic choice. In the decade after the Holocaust, about 12,000 German-born Jews opted to remain in the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG) and comprised about half of its Jewish community. Rooted in the German language and typically married to non-Jewish spouses, they still had some connections to Germany. xSuch cultural and personal ties did not exist for the other half of West Germany’s Jewish community – its East European Jews. Between 1945 and 1948, 230,000 Jews sought refuge in occupied Germany from the violent outbursts of antisemitism in eastern Europe. Although by 1949 only 15,000 East European Jews had taken permanent residence in the FRG, those who stayed behind profoundly impacted upon Jewish life. More religiously devout than their German-Jewish counterparts, they developed a rich cultural tradition located mostly in southern Germany. But their presence also complicated Jewish life. From the late nineteenth century, relations between German and East European Jews historically were tense and remained so in the early postwar years; the highly acculturated German Jews looked down upon their less assimilated, Yiddish-speaking brothers. In the first decade after the war, integrating these two groups emerged as one of the most pressing tasks for Jewish community leaders.

Louis de Jong, who died on 15 March 2005, held a unique position as the official historian for the Netherlands during the Second World War. As head of the Rijksinstituut voor Oorlogsdocumentatie (RIOD), de Jong effectively came to dictate the research agenda on his country’s recent history for more than forty years after the conflict was over. For the Dutch, his name was synonymous not only with RIOD but also with the history of the German occupation from May 1940 to the final liberation in May 1945.