The traditional image of northern Iberian mountain settlements is that they are largely egalitarian, homogeneous, and survivals of archaic forms of 'agrarian collectivism'. In this book, based both on extensive fieldwork and detailed study of local records, Brian Juan O'Neill offers a different perspective, questioning prevailing views on both empirical as well as theoretical and methodological grounds. Through a detailed examination of three major areas of social life - land tenure, cooperative labour exchanges, and marriage and inheritance practices - in (...) one particular hamlet, the author demonstrates the predominance of forms of institutionalized economic inequality and social differentiation within the peasantry. Situating the local study within a wider European and Mediterranean ethnographic and geographical framework, O'Neill offers a refreshing and challenging way of combining the research methods of anthropology with those of social and economic history. His book will appeal to anthropologists, historians, sociologists, geographers and demographers interested in the present and past social structure of European village communities, as well as to those concerned with the growing links between anthropology and history. (shrink)

This essay criticises ‘modest’ one‐child policies, which would impose sanctions upon parents who create multiple children. Specifically, this article considers what the state owes individuals who would be born (illegally) beneath restrictive procreative policies and argues that such policies would fail to show due respect to second‐ or third‐born individuals created beneath them. First, I argue that modest procreative restrictions (like sanctions) are likely to generate only modest compliance. I then suggest it is reasonable to think a one‐child policy fails (...) to demonstrate due respect to existing second and third children. I argue that such a policy generates an undue burden on any second or third children who would be born beneath them, before concluding by considering whether the state might be able to avoid effectively reinscribing ‘bastardy’ into its law by locating responsibility for the effects of such a policy entirely on the parents, rather than on children. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Remembering ApartheidMark Sanders (bio)What was apartheid? How is it being remembered? Two questions. The first of them, almost at once, encourages a third: what is apartheid? An answer to the first question will be an answer to the third. Knowing what apartheid was, it is implied, we will know what apartheid is. We will know what it is in essence. But if the answer supplied to the first question (...) is the same as that to the second, the question has been begged. This answer and begged question affect not only what we understand apartheid to have been. The essence of what apartheid is has been derived from an activity of remembering that is historically contingent. Is there a way out of this circle? A path to a place where essence will in no way be trammeled by any historical excrescence—where apartheid, stamped with -heid, the Afrikaans suffix for -ness, stands forth intact, unique—where, in a final victory, apartheid's phantasy of separateness will have perfected itself in truth? Supposing that responsibility involves the unstable articulation of essence and contingency, and consequent decision in the "night of non-knowledge," would it be responsible to seek such a way out? Is it possible, on the other hand, not to embark upon, or want to embark upon, such a search?The title "Remembering Apartheid" is to be understood as shorthand for this aporia of certain knowing. It refers in the first place to ways of remembering bound up, in South Africa, with the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. These have involved not only the collection of facts anchored in recollection, a classically forensic project, but also the admission of acts of grieving and the invitation for others to participate in these acts—a participation to which I will refer, employing the word in the general sense of a mourning-with, as condolence. The word remembrance (echoing the German Gedächtnis, with its folding in of Denken) might more closely approach the inextricable interlinking, before the Commission, of epistemic and mournful practice. Yet, in traversing the aporia provisionally without eliminating it, the title of my essay lays claim to knowledge. It announces: this is apartheid, for this is what apartheid was. It thereby also seeks to acknowledge that, just as forensic evidence assembled by the Commission may be bound up with the grieving of witnesses, no claim about the nature of apartheid can be untouched by the affective demands of those who bear the burden of remembering. The legacy of apartheid of which they speak is of undiscovered bodies, of bodies denied a proper burial. They seek the help of the Commission in rectifying this state of affairs. What we hear when we listen to those witnesses is this: apartheid was a proscription on mourning, specifically of the other. Can we then not say: apartheid is, at least for those who remember the worst deeds committed under it, and who attach to them a particular affect, a proscription on mourning the other? Viewed from a purely forensic point of view, it is far from clear that we possess evidence to impeach this testimony. [End Page 60]Apartheid was/is, in the most general terms, an interdict against the development of a social formation. Although Afrikaner-nationalist politicians and intellectuals sometimes frightened the volk with images of being swamped by the vast black African mass or of being ploughed under as a people [see Louw 1: 505], the nature of that social formation was never outlined in precise terms. Versions of racial degeneration and bastardy were proffered by apartheid theorists, but what the ideology of race purity and the power that hid behind it really entailed was a foreclosure of the other, and thus of any historical possibility of another social formation—of what Breyten Breytenbach, alluding in Dog Heart [69] to the novelist Jan Rabie, calls "other-making" (andersmaak).In Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego (1921), Sigmund Freud offers an account of the social formation that, although standing on the shoulders of conservative nineteenth-century writers such as Gustave le Bon, does not depend upon racial, cultural, linguistic, or other characteristics that, singularly or together, formed the core... (shrink)

Psychoanalysis knows two things at least. First, that all human endeavour and all human failure is imbued with anxiety, and that, therefore, to diagnose human endeavour, or to diagnose failure, is to locate the nature and origin of anxiety. And second, that anxiety itself amplifies the need to “diagnose” human being, and human beings. Psychoanalysts, in other words, know that for them to be able to do the work of psychoanalysis, they need to be (cultural) anthropologists first. In this contribution (...) an attempt is made to sketch out the broad outlines, and the deep anthropological backdrop, of a cultural undercurrent which has come to dominate Western culture in the first quarter of the twenty-first century. Building on Peter Sloterdijk’s work, and using the image of the ‘line of anxiety’ as a heuristic tool, we’ve named this cultural undercurrent radical bastardy, i.e. the aspiration to live as sovereign—absolutely sovereign-a life as possible. This cultural trend-which has a long history, and which many are now drawn to- is, however, shot through with anxiety. To live the life of an aspiring sovereign is to live a life in nagging anxiety. It is to live a life of unrelenting attempts to “diagnose” anything that even vaguely resembles law, or code, in order to avoid it, elude it, keep it at bay, or, if necessary, eradicate it. (shrink)

Reports from antiquity — two factual and another based on myth — claim that Ptolemy I was a son of the Macedonian king Philip II. If so, Ptolemy was a half-brother of Alexander the Great. Scholars suppose that this rumour was promoted by Ptolemy I. But this cannot be confirmed. It seems rather that Arsinoë, the mother of Ptolemy I, was a concubine at the court of Philip II and that a rumour existed that Ptolemy I was illegitimately born. This (...) rumour developed in two separate ways. In Macedon, probably in the late 280's BCE, it was claimed that the father of Ptolemy was Philip II. The story may have been inspired by Ptolemy Keraunos in the course of his quest for the Macedonian throne. In Egypt, however, in spite of an apparent reluctance of Ptolemy I to link Lagos with his name, it was officially proclaimed in the reign of his son that Lagos was the father of Ptolemy I. It is possible thereby that Ptolemy II removed the stigma of bastardy from the first Ptolemaic king. (shrink)

This book places under sustained scrutiny some of our most basic modern assumptions about inheritance, genealogy, blood relations, and racial categories. It has at its core a deceptively simple question, one too often taken for granted: what constitutes "good" bonds among humans, and what compels us to determine them so across generations as both a physical and a metaphysical attribute? Answering this question is complex and involves a foray into a seemingly disparate array of early modern sources: from adages, common (...) law, and literature about bloodlines and bastardy to philosophical, political, and scientific discourses that both confirm and confound the "common sense" of familial, communal, national, and racial identity.  . (shrink)

En este artículo se estudia la representación de la infancia en la poesía de Delia Domínguez, la que se expresa como una estética de la orfandad y el huachismo que intentan restituir un estado primigenio, embrionario, mediante un constante mirar para atrás con ojos de niña, en el contexto de una comunidad poetizada que da lugar al encuentro regresivo e imposible de la madre con la hija. En esta búsqueda, la infancia cumple un rol reunificador y reparador. In this article, (...) the representation of childhood in Delia Domínguez's poetry is analyzed. This is expressed as an aesthetics of orfhanhood and bastardy that tries to return to an original, embryonic condition, by means of a constant looking back through a girl's eyes, in the context of a poeticized community that gives way to the regressive and impossible meeting of a mother and her daughter. In this search, childhood fulfills a reunifying and repairing role. (shrink)

The ArgumentBlood tests developed at the turn of the century could in some cases discern genetic relations. While such tests could never prove that a given individual had fathered a child in question, men of certain blood types could be exonerated from paternity of children with other blood types. Starting in the 1930s, scientists and lawmakers attempted to introduce such evidence into paternity or bastardy trials to attest to a man's innocence. Evidence from blood tests soon came to be (...) used in divorce cases.Blood tests appeared to be ideal for providing relevant information in cases when divorcing men claimed as a part of their suit that they had not fathered their ex-wife's child or children. Nevertheless, the courts remained reluctant to intro duce such evidence in divorce cases. This paper will argue that reluctance derived not from a distrust of the science, but from the courts' clinging to a definition of paternity that was not rooted in genetic connection.Many judges and juries fell back on the pre-industrial assumption that once a man married a woman he was automatically the father of any children she bore. While this assumption flew in the face of scientific evidence, it did have the advantage of ensuring that the children of married women could not be bastard ized. The changing manner in which courts handled the tension between genetic paternity and traditional paternity in divorce cases reveals how society's views on paternity have evolved over the course of this century. (shrink)

De la liaison de Charles VII et Agnès Sorel naissent quatre filles, dont trois atteignent l’âge adulte. L’une d’elles, Marie, épouse Olivier de Coëtivy, conseiller de Charles VII. Le couple et trois de leurs enfants ont laissé de nombreux manuscrits richement enluminés, témoins de leur bibliophilie mais aussi du regard porté sur la bâtardise de Marie de Valois par chaque membre de la famille. On découvre à travers les images de ces livres que l’identité bâtarde, dans les milieux de la (...) haute aristocratie et de la royauté, est davantage un honneur qu’un stigmate, comme cela a déjà été démontré, mais plus encore : elle peut faire l’objet d’une commémoration et d’une célébration au-delà de la génération bâtarde, comme c’est le cas dans la Légende dorée de Catherine de Coëtivy et de son mari, dont il sera amplement question. Cet article propose de prolonger la réflexion sur la bâtardise aristocratique selon deux perspectives peu traitées : celle du genre, à travers un exemple de bâtardise féminine et les dynamiques conjugales, et celle de la « mémoire bâtarde » aux générations ultérieures. (shrink)