The dissertation focuses on several Romanian avant-garde magazines, such as Contimporanul, Integral, and 75HP, that Romanian artists and writers created in Romania in the 1920s, after Romanian Dadaists Tristan Tzara and Marcel Iancu disbanded from Zurich Dada in the 1910s. The Romanian avant-garde magazines launched the Romanian avant-garde movement—the most intense period of artistic production in the country. The Romanian avant-gardists established Integralism in an attempt to differentiate themselves from other European avant-garde groups and to capture the intense and innovative creative spirit of their modern era by uniting and condensing avant-garde and modern styles on the pages of their magazines. However, I argue that instead of Integralism, what the Romanian avant-garde magazines put forth were Romanian avant-garde versions of Constructivism and Cubism conveyed in the magazines’ constructivist prints and reproductions of cubist paintings. The originality of the Romanian avant-garde magazines, thus, is concentrated in their appropriation and reinterpretation of Constructivism and Cubism rather than in their Integralism. Moreover, in their rebellion and resistance to Romania’s social, political, and artistic status quo, the Romanian avant-garde magazines functioned as an instrument with which the Romanian avant-gardists expressed their complex relationship with their Jewish identity. The magazines were not on the periphery of artistic production, as art history discourse on modern and avant-garde art has situated them, but were an important player in the global network of avant-garde magazines that traversed across eastern and western Europe, South America, the United States, and Japan.

This dissertation discusses children and childhood in Soviet Kazakhstan from 1928 to 1953. By exploring images of, and for, children, and by focusing on children’s fates during and after the famine of 1930-33, I argue that the regime’s success in making children socialist subjects and creating the new Soviet person was questionable throughout the 1930s. The reach of Soviet ideological and cultural policies was limited in a decade defined by all kinds of shortcomings in the periphery which was accompanied by massive violence and destruction. World War 2 mobilized Central Asians and integrated the masses into the Soviet social and political body. The war transformed state-society relations and the meaning of being Soviet fundamentally changed. In this way, larger segments of society embraced the framework for Soviet citizenship and Soviet patriotism largely thanks to the war experience. This approach invites us to reconsider the nature of Sovietization in Central Asia by questioning the central role of ideology and cultural revolution in the formation of Soviet identities. My dissertation brings together images of childhood, everyday experiences of children and memory of childhood. On the one hand, the focus on children provides me an opportunity to discuss Sovietization in Central Asia. On the other hand, this dissertation contributes to our understanding of Soviet childhood: it is the first comprehensive study of Soviet children in the periphery in English. It shows how images and discourses, which were produced in the Soviet center, were translated into the local context and emphasizes the multiplicity of children’s experiences across the Soviet Union. Local conditions defined the meaning of childhood in Kazakhstan as much as central visions. Studying children in a non-Russian republic allows me to discuss questions of ideology, cultural revolution and the nationalities question. A main goal of the dissertation is to shift the focus of Sovietization from the cultural and intellectual elite to ordinary people. Secondly, by studying the impact of the famine and the Great Patriotic War, I try to understand the dynamics of the Soviet regime and the changing conceptions of culture and identity in Soviet Kazakhstan.

This dissertation explores how rank-and-file political prisoners navigated life after release and how they translated their experiences in the Gulag and after into memoirs, letters, and art. I argue that these autobiographical narratives formed the basis of an alternate history of the Soviet Union. This alternate history informed the cultural memory of the Gulag in the Komi Republic, which coalesced over the course of the late 1980s and 1990s into an infrastructure of memory. This alternate history was mobilized by the formation of the Soviet Union’s first civic organizations, such as the Memorial Society, that emerged in the late 1980s. However, Gulag returnees not only joined post-Soviet civil society, they also formed a nascent civil society after their release in the 1950s. The social networks and informal associations that Gulag returnees relied upon to reintegrate back into Soviet society after release, also played an essential role in the memory project of coming to terms with the Stalinist past after the collapse of the Soviet Union.

As one of the first and most populous epicenters of the Gulag archipelago located in the Far North, from 1929-1958 Komi saw hundreds of thousands of prisoners, in addition to hundreds of thousands more who were exiled to the region from all over the Soviet Union. While some left the region after they were released, many were not able to leave or chose not to when given the choice. Regardless of where they lived when the Soviet Union collapsed, many former prisoners sent their autobiographies to branches of the Memorial Society and local history museums in Komi. For many, this was the very first time they had shared their stories with anyone. While Komi is unique in many ways, it is emblematic of processes that unfolded throughout the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe at the end of the Twentieth Century. This project expands our understanding of how civil societies form under conditions of authoritarian rule and illuminates the ways in which survivors and societies come to terms with difficult pasts.

This thesis explores the intersection of religion, social class, and politics during the late nineteenth century in Imperial Germany. Specifically, the focus of this work is on the Workers' Association of Saint Paul's in Aachen and Burtscheid, a Catholic working-class organization in the 1870s located in the city of Aachen, a rapidly industrializing city in the majority Catholic Prussian Rhineland. This organization was the largest Catholic working-class association in Germany in the 1870s, reaching 5,000 members by the middle of the decade, and also espoused the politics of Christian Socialism. This thesis explores the intersection of the possibly competing social identities of these workers between being Catholics and workers. To start, the scholarly framework of studying society and politics in Imperial Germany is discussed, especially the concept of rigidly constructed social milieus into five groups, two of them being the Catholics and the working-class, and how this work may suggest a challenge to this concept. Next, the background information of how a Catholic working-class came into existence, as it was the product of simultaneous nineteenth century processes of industrialization and a religious revival among German Catholics. The Kulturkampf was the force that politicized Catholicism in Germany, as the persecution of Catholic institutions by Prussia forced Catholics into a social and political "ghetto." Then, the Association of St. Paul's itself is discussed. First, the workers espoused their Catholic identity and religious solidarity during a time of persecution, but also emphasized the Christian basis for their brand of Socialism. This lent into their identity as part of the working-class. While they steadfastly rejected the "godlessness" of Social Democracy, the Christian Socialists also shared many similar social and political goals. This intersection between identities eventually led to political conflict in Aachen throughout the 1870s with the mainstream, bourgeois Catholics of the city. To conclude, the legacy of Christian Socialism on modern Germany is discussed, as well as its contribution to the complex politics of Imperial Germany.

South Sudan claims the position of being the newest state in the world, formed by a referendum on separation from Sudan held in 2011. The referendum comes after a half a century of fighting, which led to the displacement of an estimated four million South Sudanese and the death of two million. The massive numbers of displaced people fled to Northern Sudan or surrounding countries, crossing borders and becoming refugees. A comparatively small number were repatriated into countries of second asylum, such as the United States. Arizona, a state with relatively cheap cost of living and a large amount of low-skilled jobs became a favored state for resettling refugees. In 2013, the South Sudanese population in the greater Phoenix area was estimated to be around 4,000. This paper is an exploration of the how South Sudanese refugee youth identify themselves, and find their place in a new country, and in Phoenix, without losing their roots. This paper concludes that South Sudanese refugee youth have a hyphenated identity. They identify as both proud South Sudanese and as American citizens. This identity is formed by strong ties to the South Sudanese community and education by parents on the one hand, and integration in American schools and norms on the other hand. Having a hyphenated identity also affects the work that these South Sudanese do and their relationships with South Sudan. This research also highlights the difficulties with theorizing immigration and identity, by placing discussions of integration and transnationalism in concert with the voices of actual immigrants. The findings in this paper are developed from 12 oral history interviews of South Sudanese in conjunction with existing scholarly literature on refugees, South Sudan, and identity.

The first official history of the Great Patriotic War appeared in the Soviet Union in 1960-1965. It evolved into a six-volume set that elicited both praise and criticism from the reading public. This dissertation examines the creation of the historiographical narrative of the Great Patriotic War in the decade following de-Stalinization in 1956. The debates historians, Party and state representatives engaged in, including the responses they received from reviewers and readers, shed new light on the relationship between the government, those who wrote state-sponsored narratives, and the reading public.

The narrative examined here shows the importance and value placed on the war effort, and explores how aspects of the Stalinist period were retained during the Thaw. By focusing on previously unexplored archival material, which documents debates and editorial decisions, an examination of how officials sought to control the state’s explanation of events, motivations and consequences of the war can be examined in-depth. To date, the periodization, terminology and areas of concentration that define the course of the Great Patriotic War are fixated on topics that Stalin’s war narrative favored, assigning significance to events according to Stalinist preferences rather than objective analysis. My study of the war’s historiography shows how contentious its memory became at every level, making it difficult to clearly discern who represented and opposed the party line throughout Soviet society.

The author argues that the collective memory of the war, as propagated by the state, became so all-encompassing that it was often the preferred version, infiltrating individual memories and displacing or blending with personal recollections and factual documentation. Because the war touched the entire population of the Soviet Union, its story became the foundational myth of the USSR, replacing the October Revolution, and was used as a legitimizing tool by Nikita Khrushchev and Leonid Brezhnev. Most recently, it has experienced a revival in the post-Soviet period by Vladimir Putin as a way to unify Russia and build popular support for his administration. Viewing how the public interacted with representatives of the state over the creation of the official history of the war suggests that like no other event, war compels any state, even a totalitarian state, to reexamine its foundations, historical memory, foreign and domestic policies and views on censorship.

Approaches to Holocaust representation often take their cues from both academic and public discourse. General opinion demands serious engagement that depicts the full range of the brutality and inhumanity of the genocide and the victimization of targeted groups perpetrated by the National Socialists. Such a treatment is considered necessary to adequately represent the Holocaust for generations to come. The analysis of four texts will show that humor is not only appropriate but is also an important addition to Holocaust discourse. This study argues that humor plays an important role as a stylistic tool for discussing the Holocaust as well as for its remembrance and representation. Jurek Becker's novel Jakob der Lügner and Ruth Klüger's autobiography Weiter Leben: Eine Jugend are witness-texts by Jewish authors. Humor in these two works helps the authors engage and work their experiences. Klüger's autobiography also utilizes humor to critically engage in the discussion of Holocaust representation. This study also analyzes two non-witness Jewish texts: the stage play Mein Kampf by George Tabori and the feature film Mein Führer, die wirklich wahrste Wahrheit über Adolf Hitler by Dani Levy. These two works utilize overt humor to challenge established Holocaust representations. Drawing on ideas from Mikhail M. Bakhtin, Julia Kristeva, Giorgio Agamben, the core argument of this study demonstrates humor performs two main functions in the Holocaust literature and film chosen for this investigation. First, it restores a potential loss of dignity and helps victims endure the incomprehensible. Second, it challenges the prevailing truth and the established order.

Ethno-nationalist politicians and criminals in Mostar espoused a discourse of ethno-exclusionist sociocultural relations as a superstructure for the public in order to establish ethnocratic kleptocracies where they concealed their criminal colonization of residential and commercial property through manipulating the pre-Bosnian War discourse on property relations. This is not to argue that some or most of these politicians and criminals did not believe in their virulent nationalist rhetoric, but instead that the effects of the discourse created well-used pathways to personal, not community, wealth. Elites used the Yugoslav economic crisis and perceived past grievance to enflame growing tensions between ethnicities and social classes. I use Mostar as an object of analysis to examine the creation of Bosnian Croat and Bosniak ethnocratic regimes in this divided city. However, I focus more on the Bosnian Croat regime in the city because it envisioned Mostar as its capital, making the city the site of its political competition among factions. Even though ethno-nationalist politicians and criminals still hold a level of power in Mostar, the IC did succeed in instituting a high level of property restitution, which does not necessarily imply return, because the IC was able to impose rule of law when it acted in an organized manner. Also, the ethnocratic regimes were weakened due to regional economic and political factors that undercut the regimes' hold over the population.