The concluding Chapter 8 examines the commemorative afterlives of the West India Regiments in Britain and the Caribbean. Placing this within the wider context of the centenary of the First World War, including the ’culture wars’ that have occurred around how the British Empire is remembered, the chapter considers the acquisition, creation and display of the regiments’ material culture.

Nobody hates like a Greek neighbour does, to paraphrase Simon Hornblower. But did this reflect a genuine inimical attitude, or are there more layers to commemorative practices? An analysis of the neighbourly commemorative practices reveals a different reality. Looking at dedications, festivals and literary sources provides a more nuanced insight. Rather than a preference for Panhellenic arenas to propagate a warring rivalry to the largest audience, local venues and spaces were preferred. The thinking behind this localised commemoration are the intentions to strengthen local cohesion vis-à-vis a known ‘other’, in this case the neighbouring polity. Dedications at sanctuaries like Olympia or Delphi were inspired by a desire to proclaim credentials for leadership over all of Greece, rather than stress the localised interactions. Often these were made with or in relation to the Spartans, meaning these sanctuaries provided a different audience for other goals. This becomes clearest by looking at a local sanctuary, the Amphiareion at Oropos. Here both polities aimed to promote their ownership by mostly targeting local audiences. This example demonstrates the potential of contested sanctuaries for understanding local rivalries and commemorative practices and how they acted as mirrors for neighbourly relations.

What remains to be said of the Atheno-Boiotian relationship? Was it a rivalry, or can we consider something altogether more benign? The conclusion ties together all the previously investigated phenomena and aspects, such as different aspects of interstate relations, geopolitics and commemoration. It returns to Pagondas’ speech in an effort to underline that the Boiotian general was indeed referring to an anomaly in neighbourly relations. Instead, the neighbours were more mutually compatible and reliant on each other’s goodwill, meaning that warfare and hostility were not the preferred mode of interaction between the two. This investigation thus provides a blueprint for further analyses of neighbourly relationships, since human experience is multifocal and cannot be caught in a simplistic, monolithic model that does not appreciate that complexity.

How should we perceive the relationship between Athenians and Boiotians in the Archaic and Classical periods (550–323 BCE)? Previous scholarship regarded it as rife with hostility, perpetually locked in mutual fear, only rarely interspersed with times of peace or alliance. In this introduction, the speech given by the Boiotian general Pagondas prior to the Battle of Delion (424 BCE) will be used to argue that his arguments about moralistic behaviour, commemoration and borderland interaction between the neighbours were an exception, rather than the rule, unlike conclusions of previous scholars. Following this speech, the chapter turns to a description of the geographical layout of both regions and how these were intertwined and connected. After this description, the three themes of the book – norms of interstate relations, geopolitical considerations and commemorative practices – are elaborated upon to show what the current state of scholarship on these issues is. It stresses that human experience and nature are complex and multifocal and should therefore treated as such, rather than aim for an overarching framework to capture the lived experience.

This section situates the study within the current debates surrounding the issues of commemoration, cultural memory, and identity. It applies the insights offered by memory studies to investigate the political implications of Shakespearean appropriation and legacy. It introduces the key focus of the book: the ways in which memorialising Shakespeare was used to formulate and contest imperial, national, and social identities during the global crisis of the First World War. As diverse groups evoked him to underpin their collective past and common values, Shakespeare provided a starting point for dialogue and a shared ‘language’ in which it could be conducted. This dialogue was not always friendly, as people used Shakespeare not only to highlight their commonalities, but also to insist on their differences. Although imperialist and nationalist agendas often dominated, Shakespeare also provided an outlet for other, usually silenced and forgotten voices, as marginalised racial, ethnic, and social groups adopted him to respond to the prevalent totalising narratives. Examining these exchanges within the framework of memory studies offers a unique view of the intertwining of culture and politics at the time that saw the emergence of the world order which is still with us over a hundred years later.

The epilogue looks at what of Baeck’s thought remains relevant by turning to the presence of empire and the memory of genocide today. This is done by looking at institutions that bear Baeck’s name, including the Leo Baeck House in Berlin, the Leo Baeck Institute in New York, and the Leo Baeck Temple in Los Angeles. The latter stands for the tradition of ethical monotheism and resistance to state power. The LBI represents the creative legacy of German Jewry, and the concern with the writing of history, that Baeck embodied. Finally, the Leo Baeck House stands for the vexed relation between postcolonial thought and the memory of the Holocaust in the contemporary public sphere in Germany, as expressed in a recent debate around the work of Achille Mbembe. I contend that the fact that Baeck, and other German-Jewish thinkers, are often treated without regard to the imperial context has a corollary in contemporary debates in Germany about the relation between the colonial past and the memory of the Holocaust. Such heated debates, for example, the Mbembe Affair, show that the intertwining of the Jewish and Colonial Question is still very much a German Question.

Chapter 1 concentrates on the Seven Years’ War (1756–63) and the performance of Shakespeare at the Theatres Royal in London to show how several prominent productions construct a triumphant narrative of the conflict and commemorate Britain’s participation through the figure of the monarch. This period of war involved a number of widely celebrated victories that were seen to solidify Britain’s dominance as a global power, imparting a retrospective unity to the conflict that was marked by growing war weariness, escalating costs, and uncertainty about its justification and aims. This chapter concentrates on John Rich’s Henry V at Covent Garden and David Garrick’s Henry VIII at Drury Lane in 1761, both of which incorporate replicas of George III’s recent coronation, establishing a connection between the histories of the plays and contemporary royal spectacle. It shows how the use of Shakespeare seems to authorize an approving view of British conquests, despite George III’s own interest in peace negotiations and the disparate aims of production and reception agents connected to these performances.

This final chapter focuses on acts of commemoration in the centenary years of 2014-18. It examines the breadth of performance work produced in response to the centenary. It examines large-scale national events and installations including the Tower of London’s Blood Swept Lands and Seas of Red, Heard’s Shrouds of the Somme, the National Theatre’s were here because were here, National Theatre Wale’s site-specific Mametz and English National Ballet’s Lest We Forget. At the same time it places new and important focus on the small-scale and intimate performance which proliferated during the centenary including the work of community groups. In looking at the form and content of these productions the chapter draws attention to how theatre was used to celebrate local stories; make visible Chinese, South Asian and African contributions to and experiences of the war, and to address women’s role within the conflict, and rethink conscientious objection. Plays considered include Loh’s Forgotten, Cumper’s Chigger Foot Boys, and Shah’s radio play Subterranean Sepoys. Finally the chapter shows how centenary plays often reimagine the war in relation to an institution, historical figure or community, rather than engaging directly with the combat. Examples include Brenton’s Doctor Scroggy’s War, Gill’s Versailles, Porter’s The Christmas Truce and McAndrew’s An August Bank Holiday.

This chapter considers changing representations of the First World War on stage after the Second World War and through to the centenary. It examines the significance of Oh What a Lovely War (1963) as a product of the Cold War and fears over a third world, and nuclear, war. Emphasising the importance of understanding theatrical representations of the war in relation to their socio-political contexts, the chapter shows how the changing political context of the 1990s and anxieties over the loss of memory led to shifts in how the war was represented on stage, with Lovely War increasingly being used to ‘teach’ the war. The chapter argues that twenty-first century plays including Morpurgo’s War Horse and Private Peaceful, and Faulks’s Birdsong, are driven by an imperative to remember the war and fill a gap left by the loss of direct memory and experience of the war. It shows how this leads to the privileging of the personal, individual, micro experience of the war over the macro history of the war. It addresses the tension between history and memory in these plays as well as demonstrating their role in shaping commemoration during the centenary.

This chapter considers how Puccini has been commemorated through biographies and obituaries. It begins with a discussion of biographies or studies of the composer published during his own lifetime, in Britain, Italy, and Germany – some flattering, some decidedly hostile. The author then discusses international responses to Puccini’s death, via press obituaries, remembrance ceremonies, and other tributes. Puccini’s memorialisation in Italy was effusive; that abroad somewhat less so, with some French obituaries verging on the disparaging. Obituarists attempted to weigh up Puccini’s significance within music history and to assess the extent to which he represented a quintessentially Italian style. The chapter then discusses books of various types that were published about Puccini after his death, including biographies and collections of letters. It considers how Puccini was remembered on the occasion of various significant anniversaries and how Puccini’s reputation was reappraised over the century since his death.