This article argues that refugees and the Christian humanitarian organizations supporting them, particularly Catholic ones, helped to construct the Cold War West. Christian NGOs valued these refugees, not only for their needs or their suffering, but for the power of their stories. Refugees’ stories served to encapsulate and dramatize the horrors of communism, transforming it from an abstract ideological threat to a vivid personal danger. Their suffering and sacrifice, and the efforts to relieve this suffering, helped to forge ties of solidarity across Western Europe and North America. Christian groups fuelled this solidarity through the dissemination of information about communist persecution and the courage of refugees seeking to escape it, mobilizing the faithful to contribute through donations, prayers, and relief campaigns. The vision of the West which emerged from these campaigns emphasized religious freedom as the cornerstone of Western societies. It promoted solidarity across national borders by emphasizing Christian unity, although there were tensions between different denominations and Catholics were often the most active supporters of anti-communist humanitarianism. It also, strikingly, had little to say about democracy, something that becomes particularly evident when we examine the participation of Franco's Spain in Christian refugee relief.

William Munro Tapp, the largest post-foundation benefactor to Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge, was a prominent lawyer who directed multiple businesses interested in water utilities, motor car manufacturing, and brewing. That much is acknowledged at Caius today. Yet Tapp was also a director of the sugar refiners Manbré & Garton Limited, and he helped establish a sugar plantation in Kenya. Alongside his involvement in an African estate, he held investments in other plantations and colonial enterprises. He was part of a class of gentlemanly capitalists who participated in imperial expansion and then donated their wealth to British cultural institutions, including colleges and universities. While much public attention has been paid to Cecil Rhodes, this article argues that both Tapp and Rhodes were members of a larger group of men and women who provided their wealth to educational institutions, thereby entrenching the financial legacies of colonialism in universities. By focusing on more minor figures in the British empire, like Tapp, historians can better address the continuities of universities’ financial connections to coerced labour and colonialism across time and understand that private connections and affective attachments between individuals and institutions were as significant as governmental policies in directing the spoils of empire.

This article reconstructs and examines the idea that democracy (in various senses) was fragile or, as some had it, in ‘crisis’ in interwar Britain. Recent scholarship on interwar political culture has generally emphasized its democratic or ‘democratizing’ character, in line with a conventional historical view of Britain as an exception to the instability and contestation of democracy in Europe. It is argued here that Britain's embroilment in a European ‘crisis’ of democracy was a commonplace of contemporary political thought, commentary, and argument; and that anxieties surrounding this prompted some of the initiatives that are conventionally seen as evidence of ‘democratization’. A properly historical understanding of those initiatives, and of interwar political culture in general, therefore appears to require that contemporary ideas of the weakness or ‘crisis’ of democracy in Britain are taken seriously (but not necessarily endorsed). In conclusion, the article suggests that interwar discussions of democracy gave rise to a tendency to equate democracy with a form of negative liberty, which registered and facilitated influential developments in politics and political thought beyond the interwar period; and that historical understanding of democracy in modern Britain might be enriched through an engagement with the political theorist Sheldon Wolin's concept of ‘fugitive democracy’.

Was Kim Il-sung's desire to have nuclear weapons the sole reason for North Korea's quest for nuclear power? The answer, I argue, is highly unlikely given that extensive economic considerations played the most fundamental role in North Korea's pursuit of atomic energy from 1945 to 1965. With original, creative research on previously unexamined North Korean publications and Soviet archival materials, I demonstrate how the ‘peaceful’ impetus steered North Korea's early nuclear enterprises in the Cold War period. While previous studies draw only upon circumstantial evidence to argue that North Korea's going nuclear was predestined due to its security concerns, this article revises this teleological assumption by reconstructing historical contexts wherein the two driving factors that formed early North Korea's nuclear programme were mostly emulating how the Soviets harnessed nuclear power for economic gain, and aversion to the Americans’ use of nuclear power for atomic weapons to a lesser degree. That is, North Korea, like other countries in what later would be termed the Global South, sought to master nuclear technology for industrial ends in the first place, which turned out to be economically burdensome to continue, long before September 1965 when its first research reactor went online.

Javier Fernández Sebastián's latest book is truly a tour de force. While it offers a lucid appraisal of conceptual history, with a focus on the ‘conceptual revolution’ that the Iberian Atlantic underwent during the first half of the nineteenth century, it is also a serious statement on the profession – indeed, ‘no discipline’, as he tells us, can sustain itself ‘if it is not based on a theoretical reflection about its own status as a discipline’ (p. 17). His is an invitation to engage more fully with an approach to history that prizes above all the language of contemporaries to make sense of the past.

In recent years, most research on the long ’68 has underlined the importance of connections between the First World and the Third World. This article takes one of these intertwined histories into account: the one that ties ETA to the Algerian FLN. More specifically, it focuses on the strategy of political defence used in some of the trials against ETA members and their inspiration in previous FLN processes. The research pays particular attention to the Burgos Trial of December 1970, which was one of the most notable events in Europe’s long ’68. In Spain, the protests against this court martial marked a turning point in the pathway of the Franco regime. At the same time, the trial inspired an exceptional expression of international solidarity. The article stresses the key role played during the Burgos Trial – and before – by several left-wing lawyers from Spain and France. Their collective experiences and personal trajectories show the relevance of transnational interconnections and illustrate the different genealogies of the idea of political defence, based mainly on communist and anticolonial struggles. Despite pointing out the importance of these exchanges, the research also emphasizes some of their limits and contradictions, something that previous studies have insufficiently addressed.

Histories of medicine and science in the colonies have, conceptually and theoretically, travelled some distance in the last three decades. While public health and epidemics in certain Asian contexts,1 and mental health and medical stereotypes in the African case,2 appear to have preoccupied historians during the early years, there has been an increasing willingness to charter new paths and explore new possibilities. This has made the sub-discipline more exciting and inter-disciplinary – for example, the move away from the state and its discourses has led to an increased attention to other forms of medical treatments and their interactions with regional publics. The interdisciplinarity, too, is evident in seemingly innocuous changes. For instance, medical historians have begun to make more frequent use of the term ‘health’, which, until the noughties at least, was a concept mostly employed by sociologists and anthropologists. It is heartening to see that all four books under review, to a greater or lesser extent, bridge these divides in obvious and not-so-obvious ways.

Javier Fernández Sebastián's outstanding book, Historia conceptual en el Atlántico ibérico: lenguajes, tiempos, revoluciones, is already an essential reference for all those interested not only in conceptual history or the history of Ibero-American societies, but also in reflecting on history itself, as well as on the dilemmas and challenges involved in its writing. Its text is the fruit of a seasoned and remarkably erudite intellectual trajectory, which expresses the successful endeavour of uniting the theoretical, methodological, and empirical dimensions in the historian's work. This bid is unambiguous in the structure of the book, as well as in the divisions and linkages among its sections and chapters, and is embodied in its very narrative and in the way it unfolds.

The literature on monetary history has tended to present as ‘revolutionary’ the switch from barter and slave money to the introduction of paper money in regions like West Africa, while describing monetary reform processes in Britain, North America, and other Western capital markets as ‘evolutionary’. In part, the resulting tension comes from believing that colonial currency systems were imposed by the colonial states, while those that emerged elsewhere did so as a result of private transactions involving individual market participants. When read concurrently, four books published recently advance our understanding of the differences between theories that explain the emergence of money as a result of private transactions and those which describe the importance of state involvement in introducing and maintaining currency systems. These works highlight how closely similar the emergence of a modern currency system was in Britain, the United States, and several parts of Africa. By ‘modern’, I am referring here to currency systems that ultimately led to single national currencies which eventually came to be managed by central banks.

This article investigates the complex entanglement of neutrality and displacement in Hong Kong and Macau with a focus on the impact of and responses to an unprecedented influx of refugees during the Second World War. Displaced persons were of central importance in shaping the ambiguous experience of neutrality before Hong Kong's occupation by Japan in late 1941 and until the end of the war in Macau. Building on Elizabeth Sinn's conceptualization of Hong Kong as an ‘in-between place’, this article considers these two foreign-ruled territories as ‘in-between places’ where multi-layered transborder flows developed in an ‘in-between time’ of neutrality. Highlighting similarities and connections between Hong Kong and Macau, it argues that neutrality was shaped by the movement of refugees and that refugees often experienced neutrality differently depending on perceptions of race, class, and nationality. The presence of diverse communities of refugees shaped multiple dimensions of urban life, with colonial concerns for spatial order and social control co-existing with humanitarian co-operation. The discourses and practices around refugees are an important precedent to understanding post-war refugeedom in these territories.

The article explores the post-1945 discourse around Italian war crimes committed in Ethiopia from 1935 to 1942. Although Italians largely escaped prosecutions after the Second World War, the article demonstrates how an international controversy – the appointment and dismissal of a former general of the Italian army as governor of Somalia in 1949 – forced a reappraisal of Italy's imperial, fascist, and wartime past. Exploring this discourse is important for three reasons. First, it shows that, contrary to long-held assumptions, questions related to war crimes and empire were part of Italy's public debate after 1945. Second, it challenges the notion of national forgetting of the imperial past in post-war Italy. Third, it helps us better understand the multiple and subtle connections between empire and international legal order in the interwar and the early post-war period. It shows that arguments based on race, which drew heavily on fascist rhetoric and were made within rather than outside the law, served to justify violations of international legal conventions before similar issues were raised during the wars of decolonization of the 1950s and 1960s.

This remarkable book is an outcome of many years of reflection on conceptual history by one of its leading exponents, who through the magnificent Iberconceptos project has explored the scope for thinking about the life of ideas ‘beyond Bielefeld (Koselleck) and Cambridge (Skinner)’. Fernández Sebastián here offers a master class in what conceptual history can be in the hands of a seasoned practitioner who is both rigorous and imaginative, not to mention formidably well read in the historiographies of Iberian America, Europe, and the United States. Many historians would have been content with that, but Fernández Sebastián's ambitions go a great deal further. His work on the conceptual history of the Iberian independence revolutions leads him to urge historians to take seriously the theorizing of history, not of History in a Hegelian sense, but as an intellectual discipline. This would require scrutiny of historical practice beyond discussions of method (which, he suggests, all too easily reduces to technique) to a far deeper level of reflexivity about historical consciousness. The author engagingly reveals, tucked away in a footnote, his hope that the book might persuade readers who think they are not interested in theory of history to think again.

The marginalization of astrology – the protracted process by which a rich scholarly field and a highly skilled trade migrated into the margins of European culture – is coming to be recognized as one of the most fundamental transformations in the transition from the pre-modern to the modern world. Long assumed to be a casualty of the ‘scientific revolution’ and ‘Enlightenment’, since the 1970s historians have questioned the power of intellectual developments to carry the weight of this major shift, and have constructed alternative social, political, and cultural narratives. However, in the last fifteen years, the field has been making a (re-)turn to intellectual history, albeit in innovative ways. This critical historiographical review accumulates and digests this large body of new work, showing how these historiographical about-turns leave us with broader questions about the role of ideas in cultural transformations, as well as – on a smaller scale – the processes by which individuals change their minds. I close the review by contending that after decades of neglect, it is an opportune time to bring intellectual history back into our studies of the ‘disenchantment of the world’.

Laying the groundwork for a new way to think through the history of British anti-apartheid activity, this article examines the liminal space between anti-racist and feminist activity through a case-study of Leeds Women Against Apartheid. Founded in 1986, LWAA were comprised of a dedicated nucleus of activists, and were concerned with imbuing international solidarity with a tangible meaning. To LWAA, solidarity had a quantifiable basis that could be articulated through the collection of material aid and the raising of funds. The first attempt to ‘gender’ the history of the British Anti-Apartheid Movement, this article argues for the importance of reconceptualizing women's activism, whilst also reflecting on the ‘value’ ascribed to their political engagement. As the example of LWAA shows, by organizing from an ‘autonomous outside position’, the group did so as a prosaic reaction to the realities of working with a masculinist movement. Furthermore, as is shown, while the movement may have been united by a commitment to anti-racism, matters of sexual equality were certainly understood as secondary, and were seen – on both the national and local level – as an unwanted interpolation. In a broader sense then, the article also reflects on the ‘problem’ of gender in progressive social movements.

First of all, I would like to thank my interlocutors for their interest in my work, and for their kindness in agreeing to participate in this Roundtable. It is a great honour for me to have three such distinguished scholars commenting on my book and offering their criticisms and remarks, which help me to refine and nuance some of its arguments. I also hope that this discussion will enable readers of The Historical Journal to get an idea of the content and limits of my book, but above all to raise their interest in recent developments in intellectual history in the wider Spanish- and Portuguese-speaking world, developments that go far beyond this modest contribution of mine. I will try to reply as briefly as I can.

In 1973, a conference was held in Toronto to mark the bicentenary of James Mill's birth and the centenary of John Stuart Mill's death. By that time, Toronto had emerged as the centre of Mill studies. Between 1963 and 1973, the University of Toronto Press had published, in a scholarly edition, eleven volumes of Mill's Collected works. A further twenty-two volumes would appear in the eighteen years that followed. Only two of the nine presenters at the 1973 conference were members of a Philosophy Department. Philosophers had a modest part in the production of Mill's Collected works. Yet, philosophers came to dominate Mill studies in the decades after the Mill edition wrapped up in 1991. Philosophers contributed ten of the fourteen essays featured in The Cambridge companion to Mill (1998), edited by John Skorupski. Philosophers constituted twenty-six of the thirty-seven contributors to A companion to Mill (2017), published by Wiley Blackwell and edited by Christopher Macleod and Dale E. Miller. This communication explains the relative unimportance of philosophers in the creation of the Collected works, and comments on the forces shaping the subsequent pre-eminence of philosophers in Mill studies.