To save content items to your account,
please confirm that you agree to abide by our usage policies.
If this is the first time you use this feature, you will be asked to authorise Cambridge Core to connect with your account.
Find out more about saving content to .
To save content items to your Kindle, first ensure no-reply@cambridge.org
is added to your Approved Personal Document E-mail List under your Personal Document Settings
on the Manage Your Content and Devices page of your Amazon account. Then enter the ‘name’ part
of your Kindle email address below.
Find out more about saving to your Kindle.
Note you can select to save to either the @free.kindle.com or @kindle.com variations.
‘@free.kindle.com’ emails are free but can only be saved to your device when it is connected to wi-fi.
‘@kindle.com’ emails can be delivered even when you are not connected to wi-fi, but note that service fees apply.
This paper sets out to consider anew the sculptural landscape of imperial Gabii by integrating newly examined evidence with the city’s archaeological record. Long portrayed in ancient sources as a city in decline after the Middle Republic, Gabii yielded an extraordinary assemblage of more than thirty life-sized statues during the excavations of the eighteenth-century antiquary, Gavin Hamilton. A previously understudied inventory from the Borghese Archives attests additional, largely fragmentary sculptures, ranging from imperial portraits to mythological figures, that expand our understanding of the city’s civic and cultic environment. By situating the archival material within the city’s archaeological context, the civic, imperial and religious display of the city comes more sharply into view, and contributes towards a more nuanced understanding of this liminal city in the imperial period.
Photographs of a previously unpublished Maya vase, smuggled out of Belize in 1979, reside in the Image Collections and Fieldwork Archives at Dumbarton Oaks in Washington, DC. This vase, alongside dozens of others that I cataloged in the Dumbarton Oaks archives, is an example of the so-called “Holmul Dancer theme” in Maya ceramics. Re-examining this tradition in light of the new information from the vase, and from other recent discoveries, reveals how ceramic artists of the early ninth century used the dancing maize god as an allegory for the political landscape they witnessed rapidly changing around them. The vase also provides a case study in the potentially salubrious outcomes of archival and provenance research on looted materials. Should the vessel ever re-emerge, this research provides supporting evidence necessary to repatriate it to Belize.
Archives are essential vehicles for both historical research and memory practices like genealogy. The sheer volume of documents produced via digital infrastructures, however, has posed a challenge for traditional archival processes that rely on human judgments. Some archivists have responded to this challenge by engaging with research in natural language processing (NLP), a subfield of AI that offers practical tools for working with large corpora of text. In this paper, we review applications of NLP methods in archival processes in order to surface fundamental tensions between archival values and automation. NLP can be used to classify materials as sensitive, recognize names in documents and facilitate new kinds of search, among other applications. Our discussion of these issues follows the journey of a document through an archive, from acquisition to interpretation. We find that sensitivity to context, transparency, resource limitations and maintenance appear as recurring challenges that are complicated by automation. The benefits that NLP technologies lend to managing large archives, however, suggest that these tools should be considered, not discarded. Turning to a more forward-looking discussion of generative AI and archival infrastructure, we argue that the narrative and dialogic potential of contemporary large language models has an especially contentious relationship with conventional archival desiderata.
For those who ended up incarcerated, prison life was defined by inequality and social stratification. Imprisonment was an uncomfortable and costly ordeal for most, but one in which wealth could mitigate the harshest conditions. Chapter 3 turns to these day-to-day experiences of imprisonment, exploring living conditions and social structures in prison (including the physical division of master’s and common sides along lines of wealth and status), as well as the place of commerce and trade in prison life. It reveals the crowded and unsanitary conditions in which prisoners lived, not to mention the high costs of doing so. This chapter also considers how prisoners prosecuted their grievances, including strategies of petitioning and their relationship to rioting. Significantly, prisoners regularly appealed to local custom, arguments that could win concessions, but that also risked shoring up dominant carceral ideologies by conflating their interests with those of state authority, defending institutional integrity against supposedly corrupt gaolers.
This chapter tells the history of the digital mediation of historical fields, centering on Digital History from the late nineteenth century to the Web 2.0 era.
Seven specialists in Central and East Central European history have come together to discuss the state of the field of gender studies in their subfields. Much emphasis is placed on thinking about how the current political situation in the 2020s is affecting what historians do, what is taught in the classroom, and how it relates to the larger political environment. This forum is based on the 2026 American Historical Association (AHA) Central European History Society (CEHS) presidential panel of the same name. The contributors collaborated to produce a forum accessible to non-specialists and for use in the classroom. It serves as a resource for anyone interested in the historiography of gender studies for the region, which includes the lands east of France and west of Russia.
Se presentan fragmentos de la biografía de la Estela 6 de Aguateca depositada desde hace casi 45 años en el Museo Chileno de Arte Precolombino, ubicado a 6.000 km de su lugar de origen en la selva de Guatemala. La investigación sintetiza la historia de la estela desde su descubrimiento hasta su estado actual a través del estudio de archivos inéditos, entrevistas, publicaciones y un análisis imagenológico. Los resultados muestran que la estela fue mutilada en varias partes y trozada de distintas maneras para sacarla desde el sitio arqueológico y transportarla hacia Chile mediante métodos y técnicas características de los “esteleros” locales y con la ayuda de las redes internacionales del mercado del arte precolombino. Se repasan las cicatrices y reparaciones de la estela en tanto evidencia material de dichas prácticas ligadas al coleccionismo. Los resultados invitan a reflexionar acerca de cómo ciertos museos ocultan la historia reciente de las piezas que resguardan y exhiben como una manera de omitir algunos de los capítulos más oscuros y reprochables de la historia del legado material de las culturas nativas de América.
This chapter explores the transatlantic and global mobility of Romani families from the late nineteenth to the mid-twentieth century. It focuses on their development of “mobility capital,” a form of social expertise in navigating international migration systems. Case studies highlight how Roma drew on kinship networks, economic skills (e.g., coppersmithing) and strategic self-presentation to cross borders and adapt to varied legal and cultural contexts. Far from being passive victims of discrimination, these families actively shaped and reshaped their identities, legal statuses and migration strategies. Using a wide range of archival sources, the work argues for a shift from “methodological nationalism” to a transnational perspective on migration, by showing how Romani itineraries challenged existing notions of borders, belonging and mobility.
Considers what the book covers and what it does not. Provides historiographical context about food cultures among the enslaved, many of which focused on what people ate, whether they were “well-fed” and “Mammies” within domestic spaces. Instead, this book centers everyday routines of food distribution, preparation, and consumption among the enslaved, stressing the vital role played by women who cooked for the quarters within slavery’s wider capitalistic development. Explores Black feminist epistemologies offering alternative methodologies where archival evidence is lacking. Questions dominant modes of feminist thinking. Rather than defining homes and kitchens as prisons, they can be refuges from a racist outside world, a “homeplace.” Examines the duality of cooking as a monotonous chore and an expression of love, and the key concept of “othermothering.” Explains how I utilize the terms “nurses” and “age” and my contribution to methodological discussions of primary sources, including WPA narratives, published autobiographies, travel accounts, enslavers’ records (especially postbellum), and archaeological evidence. Elaborates on regionality and temporality within the research.
This paper presents a brief history of archival provenance and its shifting role across different paradigms of archives, considering how this past work can provide insights into current trajectories of AI. It explores what archival provenance does, or can do, differently than current imaginations of data provenance in AI. It proposes three “lessons from archival provenance” that challenge the present focus of existing approaches in AI, in particular highlighting how narrowly this work structures and models evidence, authenticity and creatorship of data. These lessons can be used to identify new opportunities for applying concepts of archival provenance by presenting a roadmap for future work where AI research might align and converge with related work in archival theory. It concludes by asserting that grounding AI datasets in this perspective of archival provenance can realize a new paradigm of “data as archives,” serving to envision responsibilities to a range of data creators, determine needs for documentation of context and establish a crucial role for “data archivists.”
The introduction explains how the book complements existing historiography. Where existing scholarship sees the early sixteenth century as a caesura, the book directs attention instead to topics such as uncertainty about dogma, the relation between indulgences and penance, judges delegate, control of entry into marriage and problems connected with baptism. It suggests that the relevance of the Papal States to papal religious governance should be relativised: they constitute a sub-plot, not a key to the early modern papal system. The main archives used are the Archivio Apostolico Vaticano, the Archivio del Dicastero per la Dottrina della Fede and the Archivio Storico di Propaganda Fide. These are used to construct an analytical history of the papacy rather than a more conventional pope-by-pope narrative of events.
This chapter mediates on the creation and afterlives of enslaved and formerly enslaved people’s emotional testimonies. Engaging with debates over archival silences, this chapter argues that power has entered the production of knowledge relating to US slavery, limiting access to sources that emphasise enslaved people’s complex emotional lives. Revealing how racist attitudes shaped the creation and evaluation of the Works Progress Administration interviews produced by Black interviewers, this chapter also notes that these sources were archived as part of a white institutional project at the Library of Congress. In contrast, Lorenzo Dow Turner’s interviews, papers and photographs, which emphasise the complex emotional legacy of slavery, are scattered across various archives, limiting historians’ access to the emotional narrative portrayed within them. Despite the silences in relation to slavery and emotion, this chapter argues that the archive is still rich for researching enslaved people’s emotional lives if we privilege Black source producers, explore smaller repositories, use sound and image archives, utilise imaginative methodologies, and recognise and utilise our own emotions in our research.
Absence in official records can have profound implications for social memory, civil rights, restorative and transitional justice, citizenship, social welfare, and redress for historical abuse. Scholars of archivistics and early modern New World imperial contexts have uncovered the epistemological problems that archival silences pose for historical research, and the author contends that absence deserves separate conceptual treatment. Archival absences, both permanent and temporary, have particular resonances for postcolonial countries, and are an ongoing threat under totalitarian regimes. Using Britain and Ireland as primary examples, this Element traces how absence took root in the domestic and subsequently the colonial archive, and how through legal mechanisms it became an accepted part of archival praxis. The aim of this Element is to raise awareness of archival absence in order to prevent more losses, particularly in the abundance of the digital age. This title is also available as Open Access on Cambridge Core.
This article addresses the historical and ongoing exclusion of descendant and local communities, particularly in the Middle East and North Africa (MENA), from digital archaeological archives. We contend that current digitization practices often perpetuate colonial-era biases through limited, monolingual metadata that fail to reflect or engage with local histories and knowledge systems. Noting the insufficiency of current FAIR (Findable, Accessible, Interoperable, Reusable) and CARE (Collective Benefit, Authority to Control, Responsibility, Ethics) data frameworks for this specific context, we propose a shift toward reparative, co-stewardship models. Drawing on practice-led pilot projects within digital archaeological archives using Linked Open Data (LOD) and community-facilitated annotation, this article demonstrates practical pathways for integrating diverse, multilingual perspectives to enrich archive metadata. In so doing, it demonstrates how digital interventions have the potential to destabilize power dynamics and work toward reparative practice. Ultimately, we advocate for conscious professional collaboration and institutional reform to transform archives from static repositories into dynamic spaces of equitable engagement, actively combating digital colonialism.
The Alejo Carpentier Foundation was created in 1993 with the purpose of preserving materials and offering researchers the patrimony left by the author, as well as publishing his work in Cuba and abroad. Regarding the dissemination of the author’s works, the institution, which owns the copyrights for the novelist, has maintained and extended its relations with publishing houses from numerous countries that make his oeuvre known in diverse world languages. The Foundation supports in many ways the study of Carpentier’s life and works (publications in different media outlets, scholarships, consultations, courses, and international colloquiums), but, above all, it facilitates research of a considerable fund of first rate documentation, which is structured as active literature (the editions of his works in multiple languages), secondary literature (the many studies on his work), his personal library and the Carpentier Papers archive. The above is discussed in this chapter following a chronological sequence.
Edited by
Rosa Andújar, Barnard College, Columbia University,Elena Giusti, University of Cambridge,Jackie Murray, State University of New York, Buffalo
This chapter looks at the relationship between papyrology and race from a historical and disciplinary perspective. European imperialism, from Napoleon’s expedition onwards, enabled the legal and illegal transfer of a hundred thousand papyrus fragments from Egypt to Europe and North America. The process was sustained by White race supremacy ideas, which most scholars embraced, according to which Egyptians and their Ottoman ruling elite were incapable of appreciating the real meaning of antiquities, including manuscripts, putting at risk their preservation. The accumulation and archival of papyri in European and North American collections went hand in hand with a programmatic exclusion of Egyptians from studying the material and was functional to the creation of a new academic field, papyrology, controlled by White classicists. The chapter’s conclusion opens question about future directions, regarding both colonial collections and institutional inequality.
Motivated by the existential threat of Ottoman expansion, Vienna required a constant flow of information from Constantinople as early as the first half of the sixteenth century. Following the establishment of a resident embassy in the Ottoman capital in 1547, Vienna soon built a dense network of diplomats, Sprachknaben, and other agents, enabling the Habsburg monarchy to develop a sustained system of information production on the Ottoman Empire. By the early eighteenth century, the original urge to achieve, through diplomacy, a near certainty about prospective political or military developments in the Ottoman Empire evolved into a full-fledged knowledge ecosystem, which I term the “Habsburg diplo-Wissen regime.” As this article demonstrates through three case studies of record-keeping and archival preservation from 1682, 1699–1700, and 1719–20, the distinctive quality of this diplo-Wissen regime lay in an asymmetrical flow of information from Constantinople to Vienna, which remained unmatched on the Ottoman side until the early nineteenth century.
This article brings together two stories of 1970s Mexico that are often narrated separately: the story of the PRI’s attempts to reform itself, specifically through the right to know, and the story of activists’ mobilizations against disappearances. Epistemic struggles surrounding the right to know and disappearances created a shared discursive arena in which activists and state officials contested the nature of information, the authority to produce it, and the seemingly unbridgeable gap between evidence and the state’s recognition of wrongdoing. Debates in the legislative and activist realms often occurred in parallel without necessarily intersecting. Nonetheless, they engaged similar questions: What would it mean to entrust the public and media with sensitive information? What strategies could move state actors to produce information and what effects would doing so have on public life? This article contends that the struggle over information and recognition became the central battlefield for negotiating state violence and opening in Mexico.
Attempts to register and control the populations of the east left a documentary record that was often extremely local. Provincial subjects proved astute readers and compilers of local documentation, which they rearranged in order to make claims of right. These claims can be mined for their underlying legal ideologies. Provincial subjects imagined law not as an abstract system, but as a running list of privileges and disabilities. Rights emerged from having the most correct or most persuasive hermeneutic for making sense of collections of documents in dialogue with officials, through the process of generating legal paperwork. Archives were not merely repositories of external facts about the world: they were collections of arguments that could be made. Law emerged from the collaborative process of claiming such rights.
The story of a trader introduces the historical actors who made and transformed Mexico City during the seventeenth century. A tour of the landscape situates their lives in an American metropolis – a capital and commercial city sustained by working people. A discussion of residents’ economies underlines the focus on individuals and their economic goals. An overview of the city’s governance explains how and where people acted politically. A demographic profile confirms that this history is about people from all over the world: Native Americans; free and enslaved people from Africa and Asia; colonists and migrants from Europe; and all their descendants. Their experiences, their urban history, affirm archival reconstruction as a way to chart change over time from the perspective of people who made a living doing essential work, selling food, transporting goods, providing care, and valuing silver, the city’s money.