During wartime, the Constitution requires the president to lead the nation as commander-in-chief. But what about first ladies? As wives, mothers, and co-equal partners, these “first ladies-in-chief” have found themselves serving as field companion to the commander-in-chief, mother-in-chief to sons on combat duty, steward of national resources, and caretakers to the nation’s wounded. This chapter considers six prominent first ladies during major American conflicts: Martha Washington and the Revolutionary War, Dolley Madison and the War of 1812, Mary Todd Lincoln and the Civil War, Edith Wilson and World War I, Eleanor Roosevelt and World War II, Lady Bird Johnson and Vietnam, and Barbara and Laura Bush during the first and second Gulf Wars. Taken together, they paint the first lady as a vital contributor to the nation’s military efforts who deserve our recognition and respect.

The chapter examines the crisis of the First World War, battlefield action, the war’s impact on patterns of domestic conflict, and the reasons for Germany’s defeat.

The chapter surveys critiques of glory. We begin with the argument that cultures of honor are deadly. This argument gives rise to theories which explain the early rise of capitalism as an attempt to swap the pursuit of fame with the (safer) pursuit of money. We also review the argument that it is grotesque to speak of glorious fighting or glorious death in the age of industrial warfare. Other critiques of glory touch on the nature of asymmetrical warfare, the actual attitudes soldiers display towards each other in battle, and the rise of drone warfare. How is it that in spite of all of these powerful critiques, the idea of glory still permeates public discourse? We suggest that the key to thinking about this puzzle might be a tendency to run together the Achillean (personal) and Periclean (political) varieties of glory.

This chapter assesses the rise of democratic constitutional rule after 1918. It covers a range of societies, but focuses on Germany, Poland and Spain. In different ways, it shows how constitutions created at this time were designed to move government away from imperialist models. However, constitutions remained enduringly attached to military organizations, and most were unsettled by military violence. Distinctively, constitutions of this period tended to weaken the partition between the sovereign nation state and the global military environment, and they resulted in governments that declared war on sections of their own populations. In such cases, governments patterned their own societies on colonial systems of organization.

This chapter explores how Britain’s indirect rule policy was adapted to suit the preference of the colonial administrators and the specific circumstances of different Nigerian societies. It argues that the reasons that account for this adaptation were because Indigenous Nigerians had solid precolonial administrative and governance systems. When the British attempted to implement radical changes, they encountered massive resistance from the local people, resulting in an attempt to solve what the British described as the “Native Question.” It further discusses how Lord Lugard proposed an indirect rule system developed from the principle of the Dual Mandate as a response to the Native Question. However, it recognizes that the indirect rule system was not unique to the British, but was also implemented elsewhere by the Portuguese in Mozambique, the French in Tunisia and Algeria, and the Belgians in Rwanda and Burundi. By implementing the indirect rule system, Britain sought to forge cooperation between the native administration and colonial government. It further traces the history of native administration which back dates to 9000 BC and demonstrates the complexities of the precolonial states (such as the Oyo Empire and Sokoto Caliphate), and their centralized and decentralized administrative systems.

The work of modernist poet and visual artist David Jones provides a retrospective vantage of the central claims of Liturgy, Ritual, and Secularization in Nineteenth-Century British Literature. Jones saw the nineteenth century as a moment of breakage with the past. This rupture, according to Jones, threatens the work of the artist by depleting the sacramental meaning of reality – that is, the ability of concrete things to signify unseen spiritual depths. In both a dramatic biographical encounter with the Mass during his time on the front lines of World War I and in his subsequent art and poetry, Jones turns to liturgical forms to confront the breakage that began in the nineteenth century. Viewed from Jones’s perspective, the Romantic and Victorian interest in liturgy takes on new significance for the overarching genealogy of modernity and secularization. These liturgical fascinations intervene in – and resist – the long story of modernity’s separation of the material and spiritual, the natural and supernatural.

In Chapter 4, the third case study investigates how martyrdom discourse was deployed by Sikhs during World War I. It begins with an analysis of the social and cultural situation at the turn of the twentieth century in Punjab, from where the majority of Sikh sepoys hailed, and the resulting relationships with the imperialist British Raj. After examining the socioeconomic conditions that led Sikhs to enlist in the British Indian Army, I discuss how a military mindset constructed a particular idea of Sikh character. The chapter proceeds with an analysis of Sikh traditions of martyrdom and the way the British Empire was colored as a prophesized entity, and therefore actions in its service construed as a sacred duty. Simultaneously, I describe the antagonism felt for the British Empire by emigrant Sikh communities especially in North America, creating a bifurcation of perspectives reflected in approval or dismissal of the self-sacrifice of Sikh soldiers and the creation of anticolonial martyr forms. The chapter concludes with an examination of how the failed promises of the British government following the war marginalized those Sikh martyrs who fell in their ranks during World War I.

In December 1916, in the winter snow of New York State, while Americans busied themselves with Christmas shopping and prepared festivities, a skinny twelve-year-old boy, poorly dressed and in ragged shoes, shouted at the top of his lungs: “Buy a Mirror fer a kid in France!” Every evening after school, James Prendergast Jackson Jr. stood on a street corner and sold copies of the newspaper to earn enough money to sponsor a French child whose father had been killed in the war in France. One of six children in a working-class family, James was determined to assist a child across the ocean who, as he had learned in school, desperately needed food and clothing. Ten cents each day would secure those necessities, and James promised himself he would get those 10 cents selling newspapers. He sold seventy copies of the paper a day, for which he earned 35 cents. From Greenville, New York, James wrote to the secretary of the Junior Committee of the Fatherless Children of France Society (FCFS) – the Franco-American organization matching American “godparents” with French children whose fathers had been killed in the war – and announced his intention of “adopting” a brother in France. With candor and determination, James announced his choice of child to support with his earnings: “I wood like a boy between ten and twelve if it is the same to you.” Attached to the letter was 85 cents that he had been given for his birthday. James was assigned André Leblanc, aged eleven, rue Dautancourt, Paris.

No foreign humanitarian organization garnered more support from Americans during (and after) World War I than did the Fatherless Children of France Society. From New York City, the Franco-American private philanthropic organization rapidly raised a wave of humanitarian response for the children of France’s war dead, doing so through strategic communication and tireless networking. Members of the FCFS toured US cities, states, and territories, opening chapters and addressing assembled crowds, constantly collecting funds. Speakers vividly described the plight of starving babies in devastated France and invited those who had witnessed the trauma of children to testify. Much of the campaigning was done by women representing local committees. Americans were offered a choice on how to spend their humanitarian dollars. From the moment they became sponsors, they could be involved in the process of selecting their orphans. Most importantly, the FCFS reached the wealthy, middle, and working classes alike. In involving school children, laborers, and members of churches, clubs, and associations, the FCFS encouraged a spirit of cooperative – and sometimes competitive – humanitarianism. As a result, the FCFS mobilized large sections of US society to “adopt” some 300,000 French children who were victims of war and kept the aid flowing from 1915 to 1921.

This second historical chapter provides some important episodes in ICRC history between about 1910 (the death of both Dunant and Moynier) and the end of the Cold War (which is when the rest of the book takes off). Thus the chapter introduces the ICRC through a selected review of its history, emphasizing: the development of international humanitarian law and the global Red Cross network, helping to apply that law and Red Cross Fundamental Principles through assistance and protection in the field, and related activities such as protection of political prisoners. All of this sets the stage for a close analysis of the ICRC since the end of the Cold War and particularly since about 2012. If one wants to know if the ICRC is now in demise, one needs a picture of what it was and did in the past.

This chapter examines the response of five prominent Swedish economists, David Davidson, Gustav Cassel, Eli Heckscher, Knut Wicksell and Bertil Ohlin, to John Maynard Keynes’s The Economic Consequences of the Peace and to the German reparations in the 1920s. When Keynes’s book appeared, Davidson and Cassel strongly endorsed it. Heckscher also agreed with Keynes in a long review entitled “Too Bad to Be True”. Inspired by his Malthusian view, Wicksell found the reparations feasible if only German population growth was arrested. The contacts between the Swedes and Keynes became close after Keynes’s book, in particular between Cassel and Keynes. The exchange of views took a new turn when Bertil Ohlin responded to an article by Keynes in The Economic Journal in 1929 on the transfer problem. The famous Keynes–Ohlin discussion laid the foundation for the analysis of the transfer problem, bringing Ohlin international recognition. We also trace how Davidson, Cassel and Heckscher changed their appreciation of Keynes in the 1930s with the publication of the General Theory while Ohlin viewed the message of Keynes in the 1930s as consistent with the policy views of the Stockholm school of economics.

Just over a century old, John Maynard Keynes’s The Economic Consequences of the Peace (1919) remains a seminal document of the twentieth century. At the time, the book was a prescient analysis of political events to come. In the decades that followed, this still controversial text became an essential ingredient in the unfolding of history. In this essay, we review the arc of experience since 1919 from the perspective of Keynes’s influence and his changing understanding of economics, politics, and geopolitics. We identify how he, his ideas, and this text became key reference points during times of turbulence as actors sought to manage a range of shocks. Near the end of his life, Keynes would play a central role in planning the world economy’s reconstruction after World War II. We argue that the “global order” that evolved since then, marked by increasingly polarized societies, leaves the community of nations ill prepared to provide key global public goods or to counter critical collective threats.