This article reassesses the reputation enjoyed by Charles IV of Luxemburg, emperor and king of Bohemia (r. 1346/1347–1378), as the author of a program aimed at projecting his monarchy via visual media. Current scholarship, which stresses the centrally directed character of this program, regards it as serving clear political goals, as “propaganda” to unify Charles's far-flung territories. This article challenges that view. It contends that a straightforward political purpose is often less detectable than usually claimed, and the political “success” of Caroline image-making easily overstated. Above all, it argues for the necessity of decentering Caroline visual culture by stepping away from the familiar focus on the Prague court, to explore instead provincial viewpoints. Focusing on northeastern Bavaria, it shows that local examples of Caroline imagery are often best understood not as impositions from the “center,” but rather as products of interactions between court and locality, through which local perspectives and interests also found expression.

This article examines attempts to demonstrate the truth of physiocratic principles in eighteenth-century Baden. Emphasizing the importance of the so-called net yield (produit net), a surplus product understood to be created primarily in agriculture, the physiocrats advanced a new science of material prosperity and moral welfare. Despite its alleged “self-evidence,” physiocracy invited strong criticism from those who denied the force of its abstractions. Ultimately regarded as ill-fated and unconvincing, these trials were significant for their attempt to offer an experiential demonstration aimed at persuading doubters and silencing critics. The apparent failure notwithstanding, the episode illustrates how the idiom and practice of experiment served as a powerful resource for generating conviction in the eighteenth century, even in matters extending beyond the emerging natural sciences.

World War I reshaped the international economy. This was, in part, the consequence of British mobilization of resources for its own war effort, which aligned producer interests around the world with those of the United Kingdom. But it was also a consequence of Western policy aimed at excluding German businessmen from global markets. German planners noted during World War I that Great Britain, in particular, was expressing an interest in continuing such exclusion after the war, with potentially enormous economic consequences for Germany. Combatting or preventing such an economic “war after the war” prompted German businessmen and politicians to support a series of policies that would have profoundly changed the institutions and norms of the prewar international economy. These policies ranged from imposing one-sided trade agreements, expanding the mark zone, and establishing German control over Eastern European industries and infrastructure, to creating shipping cartels and imposing compulsory raw material delivery agreements on the Western powers. The result of German efforts to direct trade and investment in ways preferable to the German state would have been a deeply politicized postwar international economy. The article argues that economic questions were thus a central component of German war aims, but that these were not fixed: they evolved over the course of the war in response to changes in the international economy, and they focused not on short-term emergencies but rather on longer-term structural changes.

This article redresses the interpretative lacunae of historians’ conceptions of Nazi racism by overcoming their attempts to comprehend it from either a secular/scientific or a religious/theological perspective. Drawing on a variety of anthropological, philosophical, and political-theoretical works, the article illustrates how Nazi racial ideas were formulated not only in accordance with the latest discoveries in the field of human heredity, but also in correspondence to contemporary debates over secularization, value-free science, and biological determinism. It argues that the Nazi conception of race constituted a new form of religiosity, which did not draw on supernatural beliefs or theological narratives, but rather on vitalist-oriented metaphysics, shifting the object of faith from the transcendent realm of God to the immanent sphere of racial inwardness. Redefining faith in vitalist-existentialist terms corresponded with the Nazi aspiration to overcome the fragmentation of modernity, overturn the nihilistic threat posed by materialist society, and carry out a spiritual renaissance built upon immanent-biological foundations.

The introduction of blindness into the Sterilization Law passed by the Nazis in July 1933, was exceptional, even by the standards of the time. Prior sterilization bills had focused on mental and nervous disorders, and they almost always excluded blindness as a category. The wish to sterilize the blind cannot be explained solely as stemming from the eugenic or economic threat that they allegedly posed to German society; such threats were acknowledged to be marginal, and they paled in comparison to the perceived menace attributed to the so-called feeble-minded and mentally ill. What made blindness of special significance for Nazi lawmakers was its disciplinary status among geneticists as an indisputable demonstration of the validity of the laws of heredity to human maladies. Together with two additional disease categories—deafness and Huntington's chorea—blindness provided Nazi legislators with scientific legitimization that helped pave the way for the sterilization of the mentally ill. For the blind, it was therefore not the fanaticism of the Nazis but rather their aspiration to ground their policy in biological teaching that ultimately proved fateful.

The assumption that the communist dictatorship in the German Democratic Republic (GDR) drove many people to suicide has persisted for decades, and it is still evident in academic and public discourse. Yet, high suicide rates in eastern Germany, which can be traced back to the nineteenth century, cannot be a result of a particular political system. Be it monarchy, democracy, fascism, or socialism, the frequency of suicide there did not change significantly. In fact, the share of politically motivated suicides in the GDR amounts to only 1–2 percent of the total. Political, economic, or sociocultural factors did not have a significant impact on suicide rates. An analysis of two subsets of GDR society that were more likely to be affected by repression—prisoners and army recruits—further corroborates this: there is no evidence of a higher suicide rate in either case. Complimentary to a quantitative approach “from above,” a qualitative analysis “from below” not only underlines the limited importance of repression, but also points to a regional pattern of behavior linked to cultural influences and to the role of religion—specifically, to Protestantism. Several factors nevertheless fostered the persistence of an overly politicized interpretation of suicide in the GDR: the bereaved in the East, the media in the West, and a few victims of suicide themselves blamed the regime and downplayed important individual and pathological aspects. Moreover, state and party officials in the GDR unintentionally reinforced the politicization of suicide by imposing a taboo on the subject, which only fueled the flames of speculation about its root causes.