This article proposes a revision of the predominant view of southern Italians during the ‘Hot Autumn’ of 1969 in Turin, one of the most remarkable moments of working-class mobilisation in modern European history. The representation of southern Italians as ‘primitive rebels’ and ‘spontaneous’ radicals has its roots in an earlier notion of southerners as social deviants and has obscured a much more complex historical reality. This image, endorsed by historians and popularised in fictional accounts, contradicts contemporary evidence which points to southerners’ singular mix of radicalism and conservatism, resistance and integration.

On 7 November 1968, the political activist Beate Klarsfeld entered the stage of a CDU party convention in Berlin, slapped the West German chancellor Kurt-Georg Kiesinger in the face and cried ‘Nazi, Nazi’. During the Third Reich, Kiesinger had worked in one of the propaganda departments of the Auswärtiges Amt (Foreign Office). The history of the German foreign office received additional attention in 1968 due to the fact that the then vice-chancellor and foreign secretary of the Grand Coalition, Willy Brandt, was a former resistance fighter, who had been stripped of his citizenship by the Auswärtiges Amt in 1938. Despite numerous scandals about the post-war careers of former Nazi diplomats in the 1950s and 60s, the Auswärtiges Amt escaped closer scrutiny until 2005, when the then foreign secretary Joschka Fischer set up a historical inquiry commission. In his memoirs, Fischer has argued that his decision was influenced by the events of 1968.

Twenty years ago it would have been unthinkable for a historian to combine the National Socialists’ murderous excesses and programme of extermination with Bolshevik atrocities in a single history. He would have been accused of ‘relativising’ one set of murderous crimes by relating it to the other. The comparison does indeed have a relativising effect in that it puts the events in a new light and so makes them, for the first time, comprehensible. But at that time, when historians still treated all historical questions as moral ones, nobody wanted to anything to do with that comparison because it ran counter to the political will. You could compare anything with anything, except the Holocaust, which had to remain unique. Nobody could write about the excesses of Stalinist violence without acknowledging that the Nazi murder programme was unique. Nonetheless everybody knew, even then, that uniqueness cannot be established without comparisons and contrasts.1 Since then, a view that used to be considered shocking has become a self-evident: no examination of state atrocities is now possible without a comparative element. But this change can also serve political ends: the Holocaust has become the sole yardstick for measuring state-organised crimes of violence. It seems that such crimes can only be taken seriously if they are comparable to Nazi atrocities.2

Social scientific explanations of the role of European law associations in the making of a new European legal order argue that they were critical in empowering the European Court of Justice and defining the results of European legal integration. However, these approaches fail to highlight the complex context in which these associations evolved. By exploring the history of the French Association des juristes européens from 1951 to 1970 on the basis of comprehensive archival material, this paper provides a more contextualised understanding of what appears as a struggle with limited impact on the French reception of European law.

Established explanations of the development of the European legal system focus on the decisive power of the Court of Justice in determining the system's practice and parameters. Even accounts highlighting the various interlocutors involved with the Court are ultimately drawn to Luxembourg as the fulcrum of decision. However, these approaches neglect the equally constitutive role played by national courts, particularly when resisting the European Court of Justice (ECJ). By analysing the important consequences of the German Constitutional Court's Solange decision of 1974, this paper argues that we must complicate our retelling of the European Union's (EU) legal history by rethinking the importance of national-level agency.

Not long ago I was discussing before a theatre audience in Philadelphia a performance of ‘Our Class’, Tadeusz Słobodziański's remarkable theatrical reinterpretation of Jan Gross's pioneering book Neighbors. It helped so very much that the discussion took place after rather than before the performance! It is a great honour to find my book at the centre of this discussion by colleagues, but it would be great vanity on my part to expect that every reader of this exchange will have first read my book. And yet without some general sense of the argument and substance of Bloodlands, I can hardly explain why the four responses are so different each from the other, what underlying concerns unite them, and how they might be answered. The book is a study of all German and Soviet mass killing policies in the lands between the Black and Baltic Seas from south to north and from Smolensk to Poznan from east to west. It begins from the observation that fourteen million non-combatants were deliberately killed in this zone between 1933 and 1945, when both Stalin and Hitler were in power. The figure is very high in its own right, and represents the vast majority of Soviet and German killing. The territory can be defined in terms of the number of murdered, or as the place where the Holocaust was perpetrated, or as the zone touched by both German and Soviet power: all three definitions generate the same map of the bloodlands.

The end of the Cold War and the accompanying easing of archival restrictions in former communist countries have created a veritable renaissance in historical literature on the region in the last two decades. The fall of the Iron Curtain has subsequently thrown into doubt the historiographical salience of a strict East–West divide and prompted the resurgence of analytic concepts such as Central Europe or East Central Europe. The former term, defined famously but imprecisely in the 1980s by Milan Kundera as those lands ‘culturally in the West and politically in the East’, has grown no easier to delimit with the march of European integration and democratic stability across most of the ‘central’ part of the continent. The latter term is, in some senses, less problematic, since the ‘East’ in East Central Europe is generally understood to exclude those areas in current-day Germany or Austria. Yet the region's eastern and southern borders are still much disputed.

When the late Kenneth Cmiel undertook the first systematic analysis of the emerging historiography of human rights in 2004, he surveyed a field that was ‘refreshingly inchoate’. In the ensuing seven years, the scholarship on the history of human rights has burgeoned considerably. Yet one might still reasonably characterise the field overall as inchoate. Like any new subfield of historical inquiry, there is a clear lack of consensus among leading historians of human rights about even the most elementary contours of the subject. What are human rights? When and where did they emerge? How and why did they spread (if, indeed, they spread at all)? Who were the crucial agents in this history? Few historians working in the field seem to agree in their answers to any of these questions.

A historical retelling of European competition policy is crucial to understanding the discrepancy between the rules in the treaties and their implementation. The historian must navigate treacherous waters between contrasting treaty stipulations in the ECSC and in the EEC Treaties, initial attempts at rigorous implementation but with limited effect on the ground, and a complicated relationship between the supranational institutions. Only in the 1980s did the Commission enjoy the benefits of the ECJ's supportive case law. These benefits came due to a fortunate conjuncture of political, economical and administrative factors.

This article discusses British civil liberties organisations hoping to engage in a broader human rights politics during and immediately after the Second World War. It argues that various movements and organisations from sections of the British Left attempted to articulate a human rights politics which incorporated political, civil, social and economic rights during the 1940s and early 1950s. However, organisations were unable to express this and mobilise accordingly. This reflected the collapse of the popular-front-style alliances forged in the 1930s and the difficulties in articulating political positions distinct from the ideological polarisation that emerged with the onset of the Cold War.

The articles in this special issue test a range of historiographical assumptions – for example, about periodisation (most importantly when legal integration ‘began’) as well as about the definition of the purported object of study (the seemingly ‘constitutional’ character of the process of European legal integration) – which have been central to the interpretative baseline established by legal scholars and political scientists over the last several decades. Building on a similar critique of that baseline, this article argues that integration can profitably be understood, in legal-historical terms, as a denationalised expression of diffuse and fragmented (that is, ‘administrative’) governance. The basic elements of that governance emerged in Western Europe over the course of the inter-war and post-war decades, and these elements have continued to shape EU legal history up to the present.

Poland, whenever free and sovereign, has since 1918 implemented economic policies that emphasise free markets. This approach has failed to produce a rapid rate of economic growth, so the country is still substantially underdeveloped. Although significant government investment in 1936–9 resulted in strong economic growth and a higher standard of living, today's Poland continues to pursue neo-liberal economic policies. This paper links these policies to the nation's heritage, which stresses limited government. Such beliefs ruled the actions of the nation's ruling class before partitions in the eighteenth century and during the inter-war period, and continue to dominate economic policy now.

The study of everyday life has had a particular resonance for historians of state socialism for a variety of reasons. First, the study of everyday life promises to get beyond the notorious doublespeak and rosy scenarios of official discourse. Second, the history of everyday life makes use of the great boon of recent history: the availability of interview subjects. Historians of earlier periods can only look longingly at the surfeit of interview subjects available to those who work on more recent decades. While oral history can have its own problems, the works under consideration in this review largely use them to good effect to get at the lacunae and misrepresentations in official discourse. Third, the study of everyday life offers an important vantage point for understanding the vast majority of citizens who were not resistors and yet challenged the state in important ways. As Sandrine Kott has noted, ‘individual preference . . . constituted a third brake on the “perfect” working of the system’. Finally, the ‘interesting’ events in East European socialism are ones that are people powered, most famously the 1989 revolutions that spanned the region. The history of everyday life offers the promise of explaining the paradox of how supposedly stable regimes which experienced comparatively little open resistance in forty years of existence collapsed in a matter of weeks or even days.

There has been a growing revival of interest in the subject of political religion in recent years. However, despite this tendency, the perspective of contemporary Italian Catholics on the subject has hardly been touched upon, except by Emilio Gentile and Renato Moro. This article addresses this gap, analysing the response to the phenomenon of political religions during the 1930s by the two intellectual branches of Italian Catholic Action, namely, the FUCI and the Movimento laureati. Indeed, it was during the 1930s that these intellectuals became most aware of the novelty and danger posed by the emergence of the political religions. The article follows the analyses provided by the FUCI and the Movimento laureati on Bolshevism, National Socialism and Italian Fascism. During the 1930s new concepts such as ‘political religions’, ‘religion of the blood’, ‘totalitarian religion’ and ‘new idols’, all expressed the effort of these Catholic intellectuals to come to terms with the new reality of the sacralisation of politics being carried out by the totalitarian experiments.

In the past decade there has been a real explosion of studies on collective memory in eastern Europe. Two large themes have attracted the attention of scholars: the ongoing re-evaluations of the past after the end of communism and the memory of state socialism. These two topics were evidently related to each other in two ways: first, the communist period became an object of collective memory and many events linked to communist rule were re-evaluated once taboos and politically imposed interpretations fell by the wayside. Second, many political and public figures identified communist rule in eastern Europe as the reason why the nation's ‘genuine’ memory had been distorted. Now, they claimed, history could and had to be rewritten in order to bring previously suppressed memories to the foreground.

Using archival sources, film reviews, interviews, secondary sources and movies, this article examines a Polish nationalist-communist school of directors who supported the Communist Party regime in constructing a new ethos, which consisted of ethnocentric nationalism and authoritarian nation state ideology. It demonstrates how the party state tried to legitimise itself by endorsing popular culture, specifically mainstream cinema. It also argues that National Communism inevitably led to the nationalist-authoritarian fusion, which set up the conditions for a pluralist and polyphonic realm, outside, but also within the ruling camp.