Drawing on declassified reports from the KGB and Komsomol, this paper offers a new picture of dissenting activity among young people in Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia between Stalin's death in 1953 and the end of the 1960s. In contrast to existing depictions of this period as a time of relative quiescence across the region, the article highlights key themes and forms of protest behaviour, ranging from political graffiti and vandalism through to mass public disorders and participation in clandestine underground groups. Further, while such actions remained well outside of the norm, we also see evidence of a wider social milieu in which ordinary citizens time and again declined to confront or report on those instances of dissenting activity that they encountered.

In 1955–6, three thousand German-speaking men were ‘repatriated’ from Czechoslovak forced labour camps, where they mined uranium, to West Germany, where they demanded benefits for health damage from radiation exposure. These men connected their group's experiences to the fears and developments of early Cold War West Germany, personifying the health risks of the Atomic Age and citizens’ demands that their states offer protection from such risks. These men contributed to public awareness of radiation health risk and to ambivalence about safe ‘peaceful nuclear technology’ in the late 1950s and 1960s, earlier than is usually assumed. They further inspired concrete policy changes, especially in occupational health protection, illustrating that post-war responses to nuclear technology emerged from the intersection of longer historical experience, specialised local knowledge and grassroots activism, as well as from post-war scientific and political developments. It further shows long-lasting expellee influence in unexpected areas of West German policy.

The collapse of the three empires governing divided Poland after the First World War left thousands of imperial civil servants out of work and forced to recalibrate their political affiliations. Those who did not flee with retreating armies faced a rigorous filtration process that screened them for loyalty, stressing their commitment to ‘Polishness’. This article argues that despite what has been characterised as a nationalising state, the early years of the Polish Second Republic witnessed a negotiated filtration process, in which functionaries demonstrated their commitment to Poland by appealing to a combination of non-national characteristics, including ties to locale, to professional acumen, and to the civil service in general. Officials who were not ethnically Polish thus succeeded in retaining their positions in the government hierarchy. This surprising outcome of post-imperial vetting suggests that lingering elements of respect for national difference continued to resonate in postwar Poland and that pressure for an ethnically pure nation-state was far from universal.

This article discusses the Swedish Business Fund (Näringslivets fond) from its creation in 1940, over the postwar decades of welfare state consensus and the radicalised 1970s into the privatisation drive of the 1980s. The article shows that the Fund was created to break the business interest out of the corporatist model and establish it as a market liberal voice in Swedish politics. In doing so, a main ambition of the Fund was to act as a battle instrument for business, and the article shows that it demonstrates a continuous presence of Hayekian thinking with the welfare state. The article revisits the story of the so-called wage earner funds debate (1976–83) and argues that the Fund saw anti-funds mobilisation in view of the preparation of a larger programme of privatisation.

In 1916, a Russian contingent of 24,000 men landed in Salonika to fight alongside the French, Serbian and British armies on the Front d'Orient. Until December 1917, these troops fought against the Bulgarian troops, occupied Greek territory, and helped to bring Greece into line with the Entente. This article explains the reasons that prompted the Russian command to send such a contingent to a distant theatre, at a time when the Russian army was facing a manpower crisis. It reassesses the meaning that the imperial elites gave to the conflict and the role they attributed to Russia in the Balkans.

This article examines how a former Ottoman bureaucrat claimed his retirement pension in interactions with state officials in post-Ottoman Turkey, Syria–Lebanon and Cyprus in the 1920s. Born in Cyprus in 1856 and in Ottoman state service for more than three decades until 1916, Mehmed Ziya had to make renewed efforts to continue receiving his pension until he died in 1936. His troubles were largely due to the need to reconfigure enduring links to the Ottoman state amidst state succession after the First World War. I focus mainly on the diplomatic and administrative correspondence generated by Ziya's initiatives to examine how he sought to address a pressing, quotidian problem. I stress that nationality, as a pivotal category in the reconfiguration of state–subject relations in former imperial domains, played a key role in shaping how Ziya outlived his empire.

Approaching Europe's historical trajectories to explain its present condition is an ever-growing genre. More than 200 years after the Congress of Vienna, more than 100 years after the First World War, more than sixty years after the Treaty of Rome, more than half a decade after the Brexit referendum – and after more than a year of open warfare in Ukraine, the European project remains in constant flux. A seemingly endless sequence of junctures over the last two decades has raised the demand for historically grounded analyses of Europe. The desire for such publications, both academic and for a broader audience, is thus far from exhausted. Every turn in European politics gives rise to a new take on Europe's past by historians and scholars working in related disciplines.

This article looks at the everyday experiences of rural communities in the province of Arezzo, Tuscany, during the first years of Italian fascism. Following an approach that borrows from Alltagsgeschichte and microstoria, the article uses diaries, memoirs, local newspapers, and fascist reports to analyse the phenomenon of village parochialism, or campanilismo, in the context of fascist paramilitary violence. Firstly, it reassesses the role of campanilismo in provincial society, showing that parochialism was a function of community expression that contributed to the making of webs of ‘thin trust’ across rural communities. Secondly, the paper distinguishes the types of parochial conflict inherent to campanilismo from the violent conflicts generated by the fascist movement. Ultimately, the paper claims that fascist violence destroyed the functional mechanisms of campanilismo, replacing these with dysfunctional and terroristic violence that made the successful implementation of the fascist programme impossible in the provincial space.

The formation of the civil militias (burgerwachten) in 1918 across a range of Dutch cities, in response to the threat of revolution, has received extremely limited attention in both Dutch and international historiography. They have never been studied in their own right, having been considered a largely local and politically irrelevant phenomenon. In fact this large voluntary organisation existed both locally and nationally, and recruited over 100,000 men and women, and had ties to state and fringe groups abroad. Reconstructing the formation and development of the militias, and analysing its character as a paramilitary and strikebreaking organisation, this article demonstrates that the militias were an important ideological formation. The militia institutionalised anti-Bolshevism and radical right paramilitarism in the Netherlands, and as such had a role to play in the counter-revolutionary network that was developed across Europe.

This article introduces the notion of Europe's ‘long 1989’. It does so in order to connect the remarkable events in Central and Eastern Europe in 1989 to a wider set of transformations that have reshaped Europe as a whole. The article focuses on three sets of transformation. Firstly, the dismantling of political systems forged in the earlier era of ideological polarisation. Secondly, the ‘modernisation’ of national economies that entailed the disappearance of the institutional expressions of class compromise after 1945 (in the Stalinist and social democratic forms). Thirdly, the unravelling of those collective identities – class, religion, gender and sexuality – that had come to shape individual experiences so forcefully across the twentieth century. The article explores the liberating effects of these transformations whilst arguing that the principle dynamic has been that of implosion. The resulting sense of loss has shaped contemporary Europe in multiple ways.

After 1925, German settlers began to return to the former German East Africa, lost through the Treaty of Versailles and transformed into the British Mandate of Tanganyika. The German Foreign Office's Colonial Section took on a proactive role to facilitate these Germans’ settlement in their former colony, including working with German ministries to release funding and navigating the British administration and settlers on the ground in Tanganyika. While Germany had lost its overseas colonies, these officials, many of whom had served in the pre-war empire, did not view their activity in colonial spaces like Tanganyika as belonging to the past. Officials in the Colonial Section navigated the appearance of political neutrality while also promoting their ‘colonial-political’ goals, hoping to create footholds of Germanness in Tanganyika that would keep open the possibility of future empire.

In 1920, the League of Nations implemented the first modern international zones in Europe. While historians have largely presented international zones as unworkable peace-making solutions devoid of resident support, this article draws attention to those figures who saw in zones an opportunity to cash in on the end of empire. It follows the case of Ludwig Noé–a preeminent industrialist in the Free City of Danzig–who was employed to run the city’s imperial shipyard. Noé’s transformation of the Danzig shipyard into a successful international concern demonstrated the economic advantages that internationalisation could facilitate and chimed with calls to exploit the zone further by converting it into a manufacturing free port. The article contributes, therefore, to a growing literature concerned with how abstract international visions were realized locally and independently, and who, ultimately, made internationalism work in the 1920s.

Historiographical accounts generally explain Belgian technocracy as a short-lived phenomenon of the 1930s, when the politicians Hendrik de Man and Paul van Zeeland unsuccessfully tried to reinforce state power by strengthening the role of experts (at the expense of the parliament). This article focuses on the overlooked ideas and activities of the political scientist Louis Camu, who, also during the 1930s, pushed for technocratic governance – with more success than van Zeeland and de Man. As ‘Royal Commissioner’ for civil service reform, Camu sought to transform Belgian politics and even the morality of the population at large. Yet despite his public prominence, Camu was far from a transparent political operator. While defending a Montesquieuan democracy in public, he covertly became involved in extreme-right politics during the latter years of the 1930s, culminating in his 1940 membership of a wartime reform committee that sought to abolish the liberal democracy.

This essay discusses how the European Community used its relations with the Third World to leverage increased power in the Cold War. It argues that resuscitating the interwar concept of Eurafrica to emerge as a credible alternative to Cold War superpowers went hand in hand with the systematic effort to distance themselves from the colonial legacy and the American strategy. It claims that it took a dynamic leader – Claude Cheysson – to make the Common Market a pivotal actor of globalism, with regional partnership and support of the new international economic order, until its transformative potential waned with the neoliberal turn of the 1980s.

The collapse of communism in Eastern Europe did not bring about widespread destruction of the material heritage of communist dictatorships in the region. In fact, given that – on the whole – public acceptance of the regime change has been high, the process of de-commemoration has been more contested than anticipated. This paper focuses on the process of de-commemoration after the fall of communism in Poland. It examines urban residents’ responses to the renaming of streets, paying close attention to the practices and discursive strategies they adopted to resist change. Investigating these responses provides a means of understanding the multifaceted aspects of the contested nature of de-commemoration and sheds light on the ways in which the top-down remaking of urban streetscapes affected local residents. It also enables us to better understand the nature of the post-communist transition in the region and provides insights into the everyday conflicts that underlie symbolic change.

Situating itself at the intersection of colonial history, global history and business history, this article highlights the overlooked history of German colonial companies post-First World War. It argues for an ‘imperial afterlife’ through continued German corporate interests in African markets, emphasising the economic dimension of imperialism. Using C. Woermann as an example, it shows how the company adapted to the post-First World War global order, underwent organisational changes, and merged with National Socialist policies in Eastern Europe after 1939, revealing the adaptability of imperial enterprises.

This article examines the complex dynamics between the intelligentsia and the broader population in the formation of national identity by looking at a case of intra-societal conflict. The article focuses on Western Belarus – the northern portion of the Polish-Soviet frontier in the interwar period – which was historically influenced by Polish, Belarusian, Lithuanian and Ukrainian cultures. In this region, the Belarusian intelligentsia's efforts to promote national enlightenment were initially met with scepticism and even hostility from the broader population. The discrepancy between the intelligentsia's self-perceived role as the nation's vanguard and society's apathy towards issues related to national identity led to internal conflict. Drawing upon Belarusian and Polish archival collections, the Belarusian interwar press and oral history interviews, the article offers an alternative understanding of the challenges associated with the process of nation-building in Eastern Europe in highlighting the often overlooked perspectives of the ordinary people who were at the centre of these intellectual endeavours.