Search

In Marcos Zapata's 1753 painting of the Last Supper in Cuzco, Peru, Christian symbolism is filtered through Andean cultural tradition. Zapata was a late member of the Cuzco School of Painting, a group comprised of few European immigrants and handfuls of mestizo and Indian artists. The painters in Cuzco learned mostly from prints of European paintings, and their style tends to blend local culture into the traditional painting of their conquistadors. Imagery was the most successful tool used by the Spaniards in their quest to Christianize the Andean population. By teaching locals to paint Christian subjects, they were able to infuse Christianity into Andean traditions. Zapata's rendering of the Last Supper utilizes this cultural blending while staying true to the Christian symbolism within the subject. Instead of the traditional lamb, Zapata's Last Supper features a platter of cuy, or guinea pig, an Andean delicacy stocked with protein as well as cultural significance. Cuy was traditionally a sacrificial animal at Inca agricultural festivals and in this way it offers poignant parallel to the lamb, as a traditional Christian sacrificial animal.

This article revisits the debate about recent American torture practices, particularly the use of discredited anthropological texts to validate long-held Orientalist assumptions about the sexual vulnerability of Muslim males. Such practices are placed in an historical context of older imperial constructions of sexually deviant Muslims as well as of more general forms of gendered and sexual subordination required for war. American torturers intended to produce very particular objects of torture—ones willing and able to confess their 'true' orientation in terms of a binary hetero/homo sexual code established in 19th-century Europe. The torturers had the power to confirm through confession and re-enactment their crude assumptions, irrespective of the actual sexualities of those being tortured, with consequences for the transnational and reactionary politics of sexual identity.

This article examines the nature of emotional exchange among the siblings who were the children of William the Silent, leader of the nascent Dutch Republic. Using evidence from extensive familial correspondence, it asks how the language of emotions could constitute forms of power within the family, by analyzing how actions and expressions of emotion were presented, discussed, and interpreted in epistolary form, to whom, and with what intention and impact. The article studies social, geographic, linguistic, and other distinctions between siblings in their use of affective discourses in correspondence and argues that attention to affective language can help to elucidate the agentive force of emotions in both reflecting and informing notions of power within the family.

Muslims, as members of minority communities in the West, grow up against a background of everyday Islamophobia. I suggest that the Muslim self internalized in such a setting is denigrated (Fanon 1952), a problem usually grappled with during adolescence when identity formation is the key developmental task. This typically involves the adolescent taking on polarized positions and embracing extreme causes. Following the 9/11 and 7/7 attacks Islamophobia intensified, which can be understood, at the psychological level, as an internal racist defence against overwhelming anxiety. Within that defensive organization, which I describe, fundamentalism is inscribed as the problematic heart of Islam, complicating the adolescent's attempt to come to terms with the inner legacy of everyday Islamophobia. I explore these themes through a case study of a young man who travelled to Afghanistan in the 1990s, and by brief reference to Ed Husain's "The Islamist" and Mohsin Hamid's novel "The Reluctant Fundamentalist".

Men have been talking of death from time immemorial - sometimes sublimely in prose and poetry, in painting and sculpture and in music - till silence seemed to fall in the recent past. Now men are again talking about death - interminably but colloquially. They talk on television, on the radio, in books and in pamphlets. Dr Kenneth Boyd therefore finds it entirely timely to offer this historical sketch of attitudes to death. The earlier part of his paper covers fairly familiar ground but his final and longest section on the work of a social historian, Philippe Ariès, may be new to many. Ariès is reinterpreting the long history of attitudes to death in a form which may well interest those who today are concerned with helping modern man to accept his own death - death which still, for most people, is the death of another, not of oneself.

The question is raised of whether the Middle Ages held a view of the nature of childhood as distinct from adulthood. Evidence is offered from legal documents, medical writings, and church and monastic chronicles to support the viewpoint that the special nature of the child was perceived (although with great ambivalence) as being fragile, vulnerable, and naive, while also possessing a potential for closeness to God and the supernatural world.

Firstly, the considerable cultural-historical efficiency of the biblical belief is shown in its influence upon the status and the self-comprehension of elderly people. The Old Testamental monotheism leads to the disenchantment of man and a sober judgement of age, free of superstition. The theology of grace in the New Testament teaches the old to look upon the Lord hopefully, despite all deficits of life, instead of ending in a desperate balance of life. In the course of ecclesiastical history the basic biblical positions have mainly been kept till the 19th century with social efficiency, despite a certain narrowness by patriarchalism. Industrialisation however, was accompanied by a theological development, which did rather follow philosophical fashions of that time than social requirement. In connection with empirical Gerontology some Protestant theologians have tried a new concretisation of the fourth commandment for our time and conditions of life for more than one decade.