Journal articles on the topic 'Arab Revolt of 1936-1939'

Based on declassified reports in the Central Zionist Archives, this article brings to light a virtually unknown disinformation project implemented by the Jewish Agency (the governing body of the Yishuv before 1948) in the Arab world during the 1936-39 Palestinian revolt. Operating via a JA front organization—an Arabic-language news agency set up in Cairo—and out of the Jerusalem-based JA Political department’s intelligence services, the project involved inter alia the planting of fabricated articles in the Lebanese and Syrian press with the aim of influencing public opinion. Whatever the project’s impact, the article provides insights into the Zionist leadership’s thinking, internal debates, and operating methods, and shows the degree of corruption that existed in certain segments of the Arab elite.

AbstractThis article examines the origins of human shielding—the practice of employing hostages on the battlefield—in Arab Palestine during the Great Revolt in the 1930s. The Palestinian rebellion vexed the British for over three years, and during its second phase (1937–1939), lightly armed rebels beat back the colonial authorities from broad stretches of the country, putting continued colonial control of the territory in serious jeopardy. Britain only defeated the insurgency through a harsh repertoire of collective punishments and “dirty war” tactics. British forces used Palestinians as human shields in a systematic fashion during the revolt's second phase, attempting thereby to stave off the insurgents’ consistent and effective attacks on transportation arteries. Beyond its battlefield rationale, this article contends that human shielding was critically tied to two other dynamic processes. The military's adoption of unauthorized tactics like human shielding was part of a broader pattern of rejecting its institutional subordination to civilian authorities and of seeking direct control over the Palestine government in order to assure its unfettered command over the revolt's suppression. At the same time, the conversion of colonized bodies into literal shields bespoke a process of deepening, corporeal racialization that had profound consequences for the Palestinians, stripping them of any figment of legal rights or protections and signaling the utter disposability of Arab life.

This article analyzes body images in political cartoons during the 1936––1939 Arab Revolt. By deciphering the visual messages in the political cartoons of two newspapers——the Arabic Filastin and the Hebrew Davar——the article examines how body representations portray stereotypes of rivals and reveal assumptions about and relations between conflicting parties. Visual imagery maintained its impact by illustrating nationalist attitudes, critiques, and goals. In addition to being referents to a period not well documented in images, cartoons are also potent historical sources for reconstructing a sociopolitical history of Palestine.

AbstractIn the late 1930s, the first independent Arab banks in Palestine, the Arab Bank and the Arab Agricultural Bank, sued customers who had defaulted on loans in an attempt to maintain solvency. Their indebted customers, unable to pay, fought back to prevent their lands from being foreclosed and sold to Zionist buyers. Each party claimed that its position was consistent with, indeed essential to, the anti-Zionist nationalist cause. The story of these pioneering Arab banks and their legal battles with their customers in the wake of the 1936-1939 revolt provides insight into Arab financial life in Mandate Palestine. It reveals the banks’ struggles to survive; complicates notions of Arab-Palestinian landlessness and indebtedness; and argues that political and economic exigencies, not reductive notions of collaboration or patriotism, produced the banks’ antagonistic relationship with their customers, whereby the survival of one came at the expense of the other.

This paper examines economic aspects of the Arab Revolt of 1936-39, which was, beyond doubt, a national Palestinian revolt. It is suggested that, while the rebels, most of whom were peasants, acted collectively for national causes, many of them also perceived personal economic and rural collective interests in participating and acted to pursue economic and national goals simultaneously. This analysis helps explain why peasants comprised the main rebel force, why many of them were “landless” and from the poorest stratum of Palestinian rural society, why militias tended to be small, why banditry became dominant in 1938, and how economic motivations fueled an internal Arab-Palestinian civil war.

This article discusses how the official communist position on the Zionist project in Palestine went from hostile condemnation in the early 1920s to wary support after World War II. In so doing, it focuses on the ideological struggle between the traditional party line and ““Yishuvism,”” a theory that sought to reconcile Zionist and communist ideas, as it played out in the two bodies most closely involved in shaping Comintern policy on Palestine (the Palestine Communist Party and the Communist Party of Great Britain). In following the tortured justifications for evolving positions, the author identifies the key actors shaping the debate and turning points impacting it, especially the 1936––39 Arab Revolt, Britain's 1939 White Paper, and the wartime fight against fascism. The author contends that an important reason for the USSR's post-war about-face on Palestine was the success of the Yishuvist ideological campaign.

Fawzi al-Qawuqji was a soldier and Arab nationalist who fought European colonialism all over the Middle East between World War I and 1948. He served as an officer in the 4th Brigade of the Ottoman Army, fighting the British advance north through Palestine; led the al-Hama sector of the Syrian Revolt against the French in 1925––1927; was one of the rebel leaders in the Arab revolt against the British in Palestine in 1936; participated in the Rashid ‘‘Ali al-Kaylani coup against the British-controlled government in Iraq in 1941; and served as field commander of the Arab Liberation Army in the 1948 Arab-Israeli war. This essay, part of a larger study of Qawuqji’’s life and career, is based on his published memoirs as well as his private papers, stored in boxes at the back of a closet in the Beirut apartment where he lived after his retirement until his death in 1976.

AbstractThe foundations of both Arab and Turkish nationalism lay in the late Ottoman mass education and conscription project and in the region-wide struggle against colonial rule in the 1920s and 1930s. The anticolonial insurgencies of the 1920s and 1930s have passed into history as the formative expressions of new nations: the Turkish War of Independence, the Iraqi revolt of 1920, the Syrian Battle of Maysalun, the Great Syrian Revolt, and the Palestinian uprisings of 1920, 1929, and 1936. But all insurgents of the 1920s had been Ottoman subjects, and many and probably most had been among the nearly three million men mobilized into the Ottoman army between 1914 and 1918. The Ottoman State, like all 19th-century European powers, had made mass education and conscription a centerpiece of policy in the decades before the Great War.

Tiberias was unique among Palestinian mixed cities for its unusually harmonious Arab-Jewish relations, even during periods of extreme tension like the 1936--39 Arab Revolt. Yet within hours of a brief battle in mid-April 1948, the town's entire Arab population was removed, mostly across the Transjordanian border, making Tiberias a wholly Jewish town overnight. In exploring how this took place, this article focuses on the Arab community's rigid social structure; the leadership's policy of safeguarding intercommunal relations at all costs, heightening local unpreparedness and isolating the town from the rest of Arab Palestine; the growing involvement of the local Jewish community with the Haganah's plans; and the British authorities' virtual abdication of responsibility as they began withdrawing their troops in the last month of the Mandate and as Plan Dalet was launched, engulfing the country in all-out war.

The 2nd November 2017 is the centenary of the Balfour Declaration which is Britain’s public acknowledgement and support of the Zionist movement and the commitment to a Jewish National Home. The Declaration is identified by the Palestinian narrative as the source of their tragedy whilst the British side its motive was the consideration of who would be most useful to the British interest under the given circumstances. The main characteristics of the Palestinian politics and society after the Balfour Declaration and during the Mandate period was the pervasiveness of factionalism. These divisions were based on family, kinship, and clan. As for their politics, they were mainly shaped by the notable families who helped to intensify this fragmentation in the Palestinian society. The notable families pervaded local politics during the Ottoman period and continued to do so in the early part of the British administration. The mandate administration, although denied the effective Palestinian self-government, it toughened the notability stratification by giving it recognition and legitimacy in social and religious affairs. The British administration refused to accept or recognize the Palestinian Arabs as a national entity, because of the lack of a central authority, Palestinians did not have the social resources to organize and unite themselves. Although the British did not recognize the Palestinians as a national entity they accepted its notables as the leaders and representatives of the Palestinians. The British policy of alliance with the notables helped those notable families achieve decisive pre-eminence in the Palestinian politics. The notability was at the forefront of the nationalist sentiment. They suppressed the existence of independent nationalist parties and groups. The same traditional elite helped intensify fragmentation in the society, especially as the external challenges became more severe. They became an impediment to the wider national integration. Following the historical background of the area until the establishment of the Mandate, this paper will focus on the analysis of the British policies feeding the inter-Arab rivalries and animosity between the notable families and conclude with the study of the valuation of the Palestinian Arab leadership until 1936-1939 Arab revolt.

This article examines British human rights abuses against noncombatants during the 1936––39 Arab Revolt in Palestine, contextualizing brutality in Palestine within British military practice and law for dealing with colonial rebellions in force at the time. It shows that the norms for such operations, and the laws that codified military actions, allowed for some level of systemic, systematic brutality in the form of "collective punishments" and "reprisals" by the British army. The article also details the effects of military actions on Palestinian civilians and rebels and describes torture carried out by the British on Palestinians. Finally, it highlights a methodological problem in examining these sorts of abuses: the paucity of official records and the mismatch between official and unofficial accounts of abuse during counterinsurgency.

In the late XX – early XXI century, the Arab discourse on the issue of Palestine remains saturated with references to the Crusades (1099-1291), and likening the current tribulation of the history of Palestine to the medieval events. Modern historiography traces the growth in popularity of such reminiscences beginning from 1948, while modern literature practically has no mentions of the used of the “anti-Crusades rhetoric” by the Arab cultural figures prior to this data. The object of this research is the mobilization of historical memory in Arab culture of the first half of the XX century; the subject is reference to the topic of the Crusades in the Arab literary texts of 1917-1948 dedicated to the Palestinian issue. Analysis of literary works of the Arab cultural figures of the early XX century demonstrated that way before Arab-Israeli War of 1948-1949, such events as Balfour Declaration (1917) and Arab revolt (1936-1938) were being actively compared by the Arab poets and dramaturgists to the era of the Crusades. In the period from 1917 to 1948, the author highlights the following types of references of the Arab cultural figured to the era of the Crusades in relation to the Palestine issue: blaming of Europe for conducting a new Crusade, manifestations of which were declared the activity of the mandate administrations and arrival of the Jewish settlers; reminding of failure of the Crusades, which should have served as the warning for the modern Europeans; revival of heroic memory of the Palestinians in confrontation of the European crusaders in the Middle Ages, which should have inspire the contemporaries to fight for their land.

AbstractIn response to the outbreak of the Arab Revolt of 1936, a coterie of five prominent entrepreneurs and intellectuals in the Mandatory Jewish community formulated a capitalist binationalist resolution of the Israeli–Palestinian conflict. This paper examines the genesis of and debate over the little-known Concord they proposed and compares it with better-known liberal and socialist binationalist plans. “The Five,” as they came to be known, were the only binationalists seeking to base political parity on economic integration. The occasion of their blueprint allows further exploration of the preconditions for an effective binationalist program, among them the structure of labor markets, political preferences of minorities and majorities in regard to sovereignty, and levels of mutual trust. Ultimately, binationalist resolutions of the Israeli–Palestinian conflict were precluded by the Labor Settlement Movement's separatist state-building strategy.

I begin with a pair of narratives:[Jenin] itself showed signs of the Government's wrath. It was in a shocking state, having the appearance of a front-line town in a modern war. Huge gaps were visible between the blocks of buildings and houses, while piles of rubble lay across the streets. . . . Many men had been arrested and detained, while many buildings, including shops and offices, had been demolished as a punitive measure by the military.On the fourth day, they managed to enter [the Jenin camp] because . . . this giant tank could simply run over booby traps, especially since they were very primitive booby traps. Once the army took over our street, they started shooting missiles from the air. On the fifth day they started shelling homes. A large number of people were killed or wounded. My neighbour's home was blown up by missiles . . . Close to us was a group of [detained] young men. They were handcuffed, naked, and lying on their stomachs . . . They would take each one of us and force us onto the ground, stomping on our backs and heads. One soldier would put his machine gun right on your head, and the other would tie you up.The first narrative dates from 1939, when the British finally suppressed the Arab Revolt; the second is from the Israeli counterinsurgency against Palestinians during the second intifada in 2002. What is striking about the two narratives is not only the similarity of “control” measures and the targeting of politically mobilized towns and villages across time but also the persistence of these techniques across different administrative/colonial systems. Further, these practices—house demolitions, detention of all men of a certain age, and the targeting of civilian spaces and populations—are familiar from other counterinsurgency contexts, whether British and French colonial wars in the 20th century or the 21st-century wars of the United States in Iraq and Afghanistan.

The article is dedicated to the activities of the Soviet intelligence agencies in Spain during the Civil War of 1936–1939. By June 1936, diplomatic relations between USSR and Spain were absent. Due to the putschist revolt and the appeal of the legitimate government of Spain to the USSR, the Politburo of the Central Committee of the Communist Party (Bolshevik) made a decision to establish diplomatic, military, and trade delegations in Spain. The intelligence agencies of the USSR planned operation ‘X’ for military assistance to Spain. As part of this operation, a Soviet advisory staff concerning military and foreign intelligence was formed. The author brings to light the goals of the secret service authorities of the Soviet Union, including such particular ones as the removal of Spain’s gold reserve and the creation of the 14th Partisan Corps. The article analyses the activities of the advisory staff, their role in the development of the largest military operations during the Spanish Civil War, and traces the fate of the conflict’s most active participants. Based on the analysis of new data introduced into the historical discourse in recent years, the author concludes that the secret services of the USSR played a large role in this conflict. The Soviet advisors and specialists obtained unique experiences, including conducting large-scale operations; military equipment was tested in actual battle activities; intelligence specialists enlisted information sources with great potential. Many military specialists tried and trained in Spain in 1936–1939 later played an invaluable role in the victory of the USSR in the Great Patriotic War.

This article, perhaps for the first time in Russian scientific and historical literature raises the question of the nature and character of the social protest in the Arab Palestinian society. Even before the creation of the State of Israel in 1948, the Arab population of Palestine entered an active stage of forming national consciousness and identity, which was parallel to the development of pan-Arab national liberation movement. Mass demonstrations of Palestinians in 1920, 1929 and 1936-1939 suggest that the main cause of the protest was the colonial policy of Great Britain, expressed in support the Zionist movement and, as a consequence – the impossibility for the leading Palestinian clans to realize their political ambitions. Taking into account the fact that the Palestinians have shown exceptional tenacity and will in the struggle for national independence, the international community has supported the UN decision to create on the territory of mandated Palestine two States – one Arab and one Jewish. However, due to the Arab-Israeli conflict and other well-known geopolitical reasons, the state of Palestine has not been created till now. Today the Palestinians are divided into four segments: refugees living outside of Palestine in other countries, the Arab population of Israel, the Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza Strip. In this article the author analyses the situation of the Palestinians on the territory of the historical Palestine and typical forms of protest and discontent in the Palestinian community at present. The article argues that the protest in the Palestinian society, as in the past, has a distinct anti-Israel and anti-Zionist orientation.

AbstractRiḥlah bayna al-jibāl fi maʿāqil al-thāʾirīn was serialized in the Jaffa newspaper Al-Jāmiʿah al-Islāmiyyah towards the end of the 1936 Palestine revolt. Under the guise of a reportage by a Western journalist, the series successfully defied British censorship and published interviews with guerrilla commanders and rank-and-file rebels, and one of Fawzī al-Qāwuqjī’s communiqués. Following the main trend of literary reportage at that time, the author adopted a viewpoint focused on the rebels’ cause and emphasized the ability of the Arabs of Palestine to face the challenges of modernity. The narrator comments on the skills and virtues of rebel leaders and common people, rejecting the dehumanizing image that colonial officials and Western newspapers were making of them, and romantically depicting the nighttime Palestinian landscape. At the same time, the description of the insurgents’ organization projects the picture of an orderly society, equipped with the institutions and symbols that typically define modern states.

Yemen is provided for the first time. The following genera are recorded in the southern Arabian Peninsula for the first time: tribe Doryctini – Hemispathius Belokobylskij & Quicke, 2000 and Doryctes Haliday, 1836; tribe Spathiini – Parana Nixon, 1941 and Spathius Nees, 1819; tribe Hecabolini – Hemidoryctes Belokobylskij, 1992 and Parallorhogas Marsh, 1993; tribe Heterospilini – Heterospilus Haliday 1936; tribe Rhaconotini – Platyspathius Viereck, 1911 and Rhaconotinus Hedqvist, 1965. Sixteen species and one subspecies are described as new for science: Dendrosotinus (Gildoria) maculipennis Belokobylskij sp. nov., D. (G.) subelongatus Belokobylskij sp. nov., Doryctes (Neodoryctes) arrujumi Belokobylskij sp. nov., Parana arabica Belokobylskij sp. nov., Spathius alkadanus Belokobylskij sp. nov., S. austroarabicus Belokobylskij sp. nov., S. lahji Belokobylskij sp. nov., S. subafricanus Belokobylskij sp. nov., Hecabalodes maculatus Belokobylskij sp. nov., Platyspathius (Platyspathius) longicaudis Belokobylskij sp. nov., P. (P.) brevis Belokobylskij sp. nov., Rhaconotinus albosetosus Belokobylskij sp. nov., Rhaconotus brevicellularis Belokobylskij sp. nov., Rh. magniareolus Belokobylskij sp. nov., Rh. microexcavatus Belokobylskij sp. nov., Rh. vanharteni Belokobylskij sp. nov. and Hemidoryctes carbonarius postfurcalis Belokobylskij subsp. nov. Two new generic combinations are proposed: Hemispathius pilosus (Granger, 1949) comb. nov. (transferred from Doryctes) and Parallorhogas testaceus (Szépligeti, 1914) comb. nov. (transferred from Opius). Rhaconotus decaryi Granger, 1949 is here synonymised with Rh. menippus Nixon, 1939 (syn. nov.). A lectotype for Doryctes pilosus Granger, 1949 is designated. The following species are recorded for the UAE and/or Yemen for the first time: Dendrosotinus ferrugineus (Marshall, 1888), Hemispathius pilosus (Granger, 1949), Mimodoryctes proprius Belokobylskij, 2001, M. arabicus Edmardash, Gadallah & Soliman, 2020, Spathius nixoni Belokobylskij & Maetô, 2009, Hecabalodes anthaxiae Wilkinson, 1929, H. radialis Tobias, 1962, H. xylophagi Fischer, 1962, Parallorhogas testaceus (Szépligeti, 1914), Heterospilus (Eoheterospilus) rubrocinctus (Ashmead, 1905), Rhaconotinus menippus (Nixon, 1939), Rhaconotus arabicus Belokobylskij, 2001, Rh. manolus Nixon, 1941, Rh. scirpophagae Wilkinson, 1927 and Rh. sudanensis Wilkinson, 1927.

The outbreak of World War II in September 1939 had a negative impact not only on the European continent, but also most of the countries of Asia and Africa. Iraq was affected because of its political and economic association with the British government, which was one of the parties involved in that war. The Iraqi and British governments had signed a treaty concerning their political, economic and military relationship on 30 June 1930. It came into force after the end of the mandate and the entry of Iraq League of Nations in 1932, but that the treaty was only a new framework for the continuation of the British occupation. The situation was exacerbated when the military became the helm of the government after the 1936 coup led by Bakr Sidqi, which caused much anxiety within the British government and the strained relations between it and the Iraqi government despite the British recognition of the coup government. These tensions became more evident when World War II broke out. At this point, the British government demanded that Iraq abide by the provisions of the 1930 Treaty by declaring war on Germany. However, the Iraqi government. In addition to the severing of diplomatic relations, the tension between the British and Iraqi governments were intensified by Italy’s entry into the war with Germany. Iraq refused to sever its diplomatic relations with Germany, but allowed the Italian government to open an embassy in Baghdad, which Britain considered an act of hostility. Military operations between the Iraqi and British armies continued throughout May 1941, known to the historical sources as ‘the movement of Mayes’ or ‘the revolt of Rashid Ali Kilani’ or ‘the Iraq war the British second’. The Dulaim brigade and nearby villages were involved in the greatest share of those clashes, which left material and human destruction on the people of the judiciary in particular, and the Dulaim brigade and Iraq in general. This ended with the occupation of Fallujah by British forces on the 19th of May 1941. It is useful to consider the position of Falluja in the context of the military battles that took place between the Iraqi and British armies during this period. The study is divided into four subjects .the first subject was titled as ”the British- Iraqi treaties until 1930”. It deals with most important provisions of the treaty, which became controversial. The second subject was ”Falluja and preliminaries of May’s Movement” clarifies the British government’s request, under the terms of the 1930 treaty, that Iraq declare war on the Axis countries headed by Germany. This request was rejected by the Iraqi government. In particular, this segment considers events after Rashid Ali al-Kilani became prime minister and the anti-British military leaders took control of Iraq, as well as the military and political preparations taken by the Iraqi and British governments throughout April 1941. This study also explores their impact on the situation in the Fallujah district, which forms the third segment, titled “Fallujah and the Second Iraqi- British War”. This section explores the most important battles occuring in the lands of Fallujah district, and the role of the people of the judiciary in supporting The Iraqi army against the British forces, which prompted the latter to take revenge on them after occupying the center of killing and sabotage on the nineteenth of May 1941, Atanih than the recent push to revenge them after the occupation of the district center of death and destruction on the 19th of May 1941, and the steps that were taken after a full occupation of the land district of Fallujah until the entry of British troops to Baghdad on the fifth of June of the same year. Keywords: Fallujah, Documentary, Movement, May, Position

In PilsenTwenty-six Station Road,She climbed to the third floorUp stairs which were all that was leftOf the whole house,She opened her doorFull on to the sky,Stood gaping over the edge.For this was the placeThe world ended.Thenshe locked up carefullylest someone stealSiriusor Aldebaranfrom her kitchen,went back downstairsand settled herselfto waitfor the house to rise againand for her husband to rise from the ashesand for her children’s hands and feet to be stuck back in placeIn the morning they found herstill as stone, sparrows pecking her hands.Five Minutes after the Air Raidby Miroslav Holub(Calder 287) Holding Still Detonation. Affect. During the Second World War, London and other European cities were subjected to the terrors of aerial bombardment, rendered through nightmarish anticipations of the bomber (Gollin 7) and the material storm of the real air-raid. The fall of bombs plagued cities and their citizens with the terrible rain of explosives and incendiary weapons. A volatile landscape was formed as the urban environment was ‘unmade’ and urged into violent motion. Flying projectiles of shrapnel, debris and people; avalanches of collapsing factories and houses; the inhale and exhale of compressed air and firestorms; the scream of the explosion. All these composed an incredibly fluid urban traumatic, as atmospheres fell over the cities that was thick with smoke, dust, and ventilated only by terror (see for instance Sebald 10 and Mendieta’s 3 recent commentary). Vast craters were imprinted onto the charred morphologies of London and Berlin as well as Coventry, Hamburg and Dresden. Just as the punctuations of the bombing saw the psychic as well as the material give way, writers portraying Britain as an ‘volcano island’ (Spaight 5) witnessed eruptive projections – the volleys of the material air-war; the emotional signature of charged and bitter reprisals; pain, anguish and vengeance - counter-strikes of affect. In the midst of all of this molten violence and emotion it seems impossible that a simultaneous sense of quiescence could be at all possible. More than mere physical fixity or geographical stasis, a rather different sort of experience could take place. Preceding, during and following the excessive mobilisation of an air raid, ‘stillness’ was often used to describe certain plateuing stretches of time-space which were slowed and even stopped (Anderson 740). Between the eruptions appeared hollows of calm and even boredom. People’s nervous flinching under the reverberation of high-explosive blasts formed part of what Jordan Crandall might call a ‘bodily-inclination’ position. Slackened and taut feelings condensed around people listening out for the oncoming bomber. People found that they prepared for the dreadful wail of the siren, or relaxed in the aftermath of the attack. In these instances, states of tension and apprehension as well as calm and relief formed though stillness. The peculiar experiences of ‘stillness’ articulated in these events open out, I suggest, distinctive ways-of-being which undo our assumptions of perpetually fluid subjectivities and the primacy of the ‘body in motion’ even within the context of unparalleled movement and uncertainty (see Harrison 423 and also Rose and Wylie 477 for theoretical critique). The sorts of “musics of stillness and silence able to be discovered in a world of movement” (Thrift, Still 50), add to our understandings of the material geographies of war and terror (see for instance Graham 63; Gregory and Pred 3), whilst they gesture towards complex material-affective experiences of bodies and spaces. Stillness in this sense, denotes apprehending and anticipating spaces and events in ways that sees the body enveloped within the movement of the environment around it; bobbing along intensities that course their way through it; positioned towards pasts and futures that make themselves felt, and becoming capable of intense forms of experience and thought. These examples illustrate not a shutting down of the body to an inwardly focused position – albeit composed by complex relations and connections – but bodies finely attuned to their exteriors (see Bissell, Animating 277 and Conradson 33). In this paper I draw from a range of oral and written testimony archived at the Imperial War Museum and the Mass Observation wartime regular reports. Edited publications from these collections were also consulted. Detailing the experience of aerial bombing during the Blitz, particularly on London between September 1940 to May 1941, forms part of a wider project concerning the calculative and affective dimensions of the aeroplane’s relationship with the human body, especially through the spaces it has worked to construct (infrastructures such as airports) and destroy. While appearing extraordinary, the examples I use are actually fairly typical of the patternings of experience and the depth and clarity with which they are told. They could be taken to be representative of the population as a whole or coincidentally similar testimonials. Either way, they are couched within a specific cultural historical context of urgency, threat and unparalleled violence.Anticipations The complex material geographies of an air raid reveal the ecological interdependencies of populations and their often urban environments and metabolisms (Coward 419; Davis 3; Graham 63; Gregory The Colonial 19; Hewitt Place 257). Aerial warfare was an address of populations conceived at the register of their bio-rhythmical and metabolic relationship to their milieu (Adey). The Blitz and the subsequent Allied bombing campaign constituted Churchill’s ‘great experiment’ for governments attempting to assess the damage an air raid could inflict upon a population’s nerves and morale (Brittain 77; Gregory In Another 88). An anxious and uncertain landscape constructed before the war, perpetuated by public officials, commentators and members of parliament, saw background affects (Ngai 5) of urgency creating an atmosphere that pressurised and squeezed the population to prepare for the ‘gathering storm’. Attacks upon the atmosphere itself had been readily predicted in the form of threatening gas attacks ready to poison the medium upon which human and animal life depended (Haldane 111; Sloterdijk 41-57). One of the most talked of moments of the Blitz is not necessarily the action but the times of stillness that preceded it. Before and in-between an air raid stillness appears to describe a state rendered somewhere between the lulls and silences of the action and the warnings and the anticipatory feelings of what might happen. In the awaiting bodies, the materialites of silence could be felt as a kind-of-sound and as an atmospheric sense of imminence. At the onset of the first air-raids sound became a signifier of what was on the way (MO 408). Waiting – as both practice and sensation – imparted considerable inertia that went back and forth through time (Jeffrey 956; Massumi, Parables 3). For Geographer Kenneth Hewitt, sound “told of the coming raiders, the nearness of bombs, the plight of loved ones” (When the 16). The enormous social survey of Mass Observation concluded that “fear seems to be linked above all with noise” (original emphasis). As one report found, “It is the siren or the whistle or the explosion or the drone – these are the things that terrify. Fear seems to come to us most of all through our sense of hearing” (MO 378). Yet the power of the siren came not only from its capacity to propagate sound and to alert, but the warning held in its voice of ‘keeping silent’. “Prefacing in a dire prolepsis the post-apocalyptic event before the event”, as Bishop and Phillips (97) put it, the stillness of silence was incredibly virtual in its affects, disclosing - in its lack of life – the lives that would be later taken. Devastation was expected and rehearsed by civilians. Stillness formed a space and body ready to spring into movement – an ‘imminent mobility’ as John Armitage (204) has described it. Perched on the edge of devastation, space-times were felt through a sense of impending doom. Fatalistic yet composed expectations of a bomb heading straight down pervaded the thoughts and feelings of shelter dwellers (MO 253; MO 217). Waves of sound disrupted fragile tempers as they passed through the waiting bodies in the physical language of tensed muscles and gritted teeth (Gaskin 36). Silence helped form bodies inclined-to-attention, particularly sensitive to aural disturbances and vibrations from all around. Walls, floors and objects carried an urban bass-line of warning (Goodman). Stillness was forged through a body readied in advance of the violence these materialities signified. A calm and composed body was not necessarily an immobile body. Civilians who had prepared for the attacks were ready to snap into action - to dutifully wear their gas-mask or escape to shelter. ‘Backgrounds of expectation’ (Thrift, Still 36) were forged through non-too-subtle procedural and sequential movements which opened-out new modes of thinking and feeling. Folding one’s clothes and placing them on the dresser in-readiness; pillows and sheets prepared for a spell in the shelter, these were some of many orderly examples (IWM 14595). In the event of a gas attack air raid precautions instructions advised how to put on a gas mask (ARPD 90-92),i) Hold the breath. ii) Remove headgear and place between the knees. iii) Lift the flap of the haversack [ …] iv) Bring the face-piece towards the face’[…](v) Breathe out and continue to breathe in a normal manner The rational technologies of drill, dressage and operational research enabled poise in the face of an eventual air-raid. Through this ‘logistical-life’ (Reid 17), thought was directed towards simple tasks by minutely described instructions. Stilled LifeThe end of stillness was usually marked by a reactionary ‘flinch’, ‘start’ or ‘jump’. Such reactionary ‘urgent analogs’ (Ngai 94; Tomkins 96) often occurred as a response to sounds and movements that merely broke the tension rather than accurately mimicking an air raid. These atmospheres were brittle and easily disrupted. Cars back-firing and changing gear were often complained about (MO 371), just as bringing people out of the quiescence of sleep was a common effect of air-raids (Kraftl and Horton 509). Disorientation was usually fostered in this process while people found it very difficult to carry out the most simple of tasks. Putting one’s clothes on or even making their way out of the bedroom door became enormously problematic. Sirens awoke a ‘conditioned reflex’ to take cover (MO 364). Long periods of sleep deprivation brought on considerable fatigue and anxiety. ‘Sleep we Must’ wrote journalist Ritchie Calder (252) noticing the invigorating powers of sleep for both urban morale and the bare existence of survival. For other more traumatized members of the population, psychological studies found that the sustained concentration of shelling caused what was named ‘apathy-retreat’ (Harrisson, Living 65). This extreme form of acquiescence saw especially susceptible and vulnerable civilians suffer an overwhelming urge to sleep and to be cared-for ‘as if chronically ill’ (Janis 90). A class and racial politics of quiescent affect was enacted as several members of the population were believed far more liable to ‘give way’ to defeat and dangerous emotions (Brittain 77; Committee of Imperial Defence).In other cases it was only once an air-raid had started that sleep could be found (MO 253). The boredom of waiting could gather in its intensity deforming bodies with “the doom of depression” (Anderson 749). The stopped time-spaces in advance of a raid could be soaked with so much tension that the commencement of sirens, vibrations and explosions would allow a person overwhelming relief (MO 253). Quoting from a boy recalling his experiences in Hannover during 1943, Hewitt illustrates:I lie in bed. I am afraid. I strain my ears to hear something but still all is quiet. I hardly dare breathe, as if something horrible is knocking at the door, at the windows. Is it the beating of my heart? ... Suddenly there seems relief, the sirens howl into the night ... (Heimatbund Niedersachsen 1953: 185). (Cited in Hewitt, When 16)Once a state of still was lost getting it back required some effort (Bissell, Comfortable 1697). Cautious of preventing mass panic and public hysteria by allowing the body to erupt outwards into dangerous vectors of mobility, the British government’s schooling in the theories of panicology (Orr 12) and contagious affect (Le Bon 17; Tarde 278; Thrift, Intensities 57; Trotter 140), made air raid precautions (ARP) officers, police and civil defence teams enforce ‘stay put’ and ‘hold firm’ orders to protect the population (Jones et al, Civilian Morale 463, Public Panic 63-64; Thomas 16). Such orders were meant to shield against precisely the kinds of volatile bodies they were trying to compel with their own bombing strategies. Reactions to the Blitz were moralised and racialised. Becoming stilled required self-conscious work by a public anxious not to be seen to ‘panic’. This took the form of self-disciplination. People exhausted considerable energy to ‘settle’ themselves down. It required ‘holding’ themselves still and ‘together’ in order to accomplish this state, and to avoid going the same way as the buildings falling apart around them, as some people observed (MO 408). In Britain a cup of tea was often made as a spontaneous response in the event of the conclusion of a raid (Brown 686). As well as destroying bombing created spaces too – making space for stillness (Conradson 33). Many people found that they could recall their experiences in vivid detail, allocating a significant proportion of their memories to the recollection of the self and an awareness of their surroundings (IWM 19103). In this mode of stillness, contemplation did not turn-inwards but unfolded out towards the environment. The material processual movement of the shell-blast literally evacuated all sound and materials from its centre to leave a vacuum of negative pressure. Diaries and oral testimonies stretch out these millisecond events into discernable times and spaces of sensation, thought and the experience of experience (Massumi, Parables 2). Extraordinarily, survivors mention serene feelings of quiet within the eye of the blast (see Mortimer 239); they had, literally, ‘no time to be frightened’ (Crighton-Miller 6150). A shell explosion could create such intensities of stillness that a sudden and distinctive lessening of the person and world are expressed, constituting ‘stilling-slowing diminishments’ (Anderson 744). As if the blast-vacuum had sucked all the animation from their agency, recollections convey passivity and, paradoxically, a much more heightened and contemplative sense of the moment (Bourke 121; Thrift, Still 41). More lucid accounts describe a multitude of thoughts and an attention to minute detail. Alternatively, the enormous peaking of a waking blast subdued all later activities to relative obsolescence. The hurricane of sounds and air appear to overload into the flatness of an extended and calmed instantaneous present.Then the whistling stopped, then a terrific thump as it hit the ground, and everything seem to expand, then contract with deliberation and stillness seemed to be all around. (As recollected by Bill and Vi Reagan in Gaskin 17)On the other hand, as Schivelbusch (7) shows us in his exploration of defeat, the cessation of war could be met with an outburst of feeling. In these micro-moments a close encounter with death was often experienced with elation, a feeling of peace and well-being drawn through a much more heightened sense of the now (MO 253). These are not pre-formed or contemplative techniques of attunement as Thrift has tracked, but are the consequence of significant trauma and the primal reaction to extreme danger.TracesSusan Griffin’s haunting A Chorus of Stones documents what she describes as a private life of war (1). For Griffin, and as shown in these brief examples, stillness and being-stilled describe a series of diverse experiences endured during aerial bombing. Yet, as Griffin narrates, these are not-so private lives. A common representation of air war can be found in Henry Moore’s tube shelter sketches which convey sleeping tube-dwellers harboured in the London underground during the Blitz. The bodies are represented as much more than individuals being connected by Moore’s wave-like shapes into the turbulent aggregation of a choppy ocean. What we see in Moore’s portrayal and the examples discussed already are experiences with definite relations to both inner and outer worlds. They refer to more-than individuals who bear intimate relations to their outsides and the atmospheric and material environments enveloping and searing through them. Stillness was an unlikely state composed through these circulations just as it was formed as a means of address. It was required in order to apprehend sounds and possible events through techniques of listening or waiting. Alternatively being stilled could refer to pauses between air-strikes and the corresponding breaks of tension in the aftermath of a raid. Stillness was composed through a series of distributed yet interconnecting bodies, feelings, materials and atmospheres oriented towards the future and the past. The ruins of bombed-out building forms stand as traces even today. Just as Massumi (Sensing 16) describes in the context of architecture, the now static remainder of the explosion “envelops in its stillness a deformational field of which it stands as the trace”. The ruined forms left after the attack stand as a “monument” of the passing of the raid to be what it once was – house, factory, shop, restaurant, library - and to become something else. The experience of those ‘from below’ (Hewitt 2) suffering contemporary forms of air-warfare share many parallels with those of the Blitz. Air power continues to target, apparently more precisely, the affective tones of the body. Accessed by kinetic and non-kinetic forces, the signs of air-war are generated by the shelling of Kosovo, ‘shock and awe’ in Iraq, air-strikes in Afghanistan and by the simulated air-raids of IDF aircraft producing sonic-booms over sleeping Palestinian civilians, now becoming far more real as I write in the final days of 2008. Achieving stillness in the wake of aerial trauma remains, even now, a way to survive the (private) life of air war. AcknowledgementsI’d like to thank the editors and particularly the referees for such a close reading of the article; time did not permit the attention their suggestions demanded. Grateful acknowledgement is also made to the AHRC whose funding allowed me to research and write this paper. ReferencesAdey, Peter. Aerial Geographies: Mobilities, Bodies and Subjects. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010 (forthcoming). 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