A Soldier in the Psychoanalytic Army: Claud Daly's ‘Defence of the Garrison’

2016 ◽  
Vol 18 (1) ◽  
pp. 71-92
Author(s):  
Akshi Singh

This article discusses the published psychoanalytical writing and unpublished diaries of Claud Dangar Daly. An officer in the colonial army, Daly was posted in India and served in the First World War, which is when he was introduced to psychoanalysis through shell-shock treatment with Ernest Jones. He went on to have two further analyses with Freud, and one with Ferenczi. Daly's diaries are records of his dreams and his interpretations of them, written while Daly was posted in the North Western Frontier of British India. The article explores Daly's relationship to psychoanalysis, politics and his accounts of sexuality through his published and unpublished writings, and uses this to reflect on Freud's insights on groups, civilization and ethics.

Author(s):  
Claire Hilton

Abstract Britain declared war against Germany on 4 August 1914. For the next four years military priorities over-rode those of civilians. The entire population faced hardships, but for people designated “pauper lunatics” in public asylums, life became very harsh. At the beginning of the war, the asylums were a story of good intentions gone awry, “vast warehouses for the chronically insane and demented,” the failed dreams of social reformers and psychiatrists. A substantial historiography exists on “shell shock”, the syndrome of mental disorder suffered by war-traumatised soldiers. By contrast, the historiography of First World War civilian asylums and their patients is meagre. This book tells the story of four asylums to the north of London at a time of national turmoil, when intense austerity, deprivation and competing priorities affected those within them.


1984 ◽  
Vol 18 (1) ◽  
pp. 33-53 ◽  
Author(s):  
Ann Ewing

The British controlled their empire in India through the twin instruments of the army and the civil services. But the army was never used much to administer British territories and the day-to-day business of law and order was left to the civil services, headed by the élite corps of covenanted officers, the Indian Civil Service. This corps was the vital link that carried the dictates of the centre to the two hundred and fifty districts that made up British India. Obviously a Service only a thousand or so strong had a presence too thin to achieve what some hagiographers have claimed but it was, nonetheless, a vital part of the structure of British rule. In the years immediately following the first world war, this vital part seemed unable to cope with the galaxy of problems with which it was beset: its own members increasingly questioned the value of their role; Indian politicians attacked what they saw as the remnant of imperial control whilst, on the widest scale, the complex task of governing India seemed to be beyond the creaking, anachronistic and overworked I.C.S.


2004 ◽  
Vol 11 (1) ◽  
pp. 27-37
Author(s):  
Malcolm Saunders

Australians — not least of all historians and political scientists — have long wondered whether Queensland was any different from the other colonies/states. Some of the ways in which it differs from most of its southern sisters — such as its geographical size and decentralised population — have always been obvious. No less well known has been its pursuit of agrarian policies. For much of the second half of the nineteenth century and the first half of the twentieth century, governments of all political persuasions in Queensland preferred to develop primary rather than secondary industries, and consequently favoured rural rather than urban areas. An integral part of agrarianism was its emphasis on closer settlement — that is, breaking the pastoralists' (or squatters') hold over vast areas of land and making smaller and suitable plots of land available to men of limited means, people most often referred to almost romantically as ‘yeoman farmers’. Governments envisaged a colony or state whose economy was based less on huge industries concentrated in a few hands and situated in the cities than on a class of small-scale agriculturalists whose produce would not only feed the population but also be a principal source of wealth.


2004 ◽  
Vol 40 ◽  
pp. 357-368
Author(s):  
Michael Snape

Of all the dark legends which have arisen out of the British experience of the First World War, perhaps none is more compelling than the fate of more than three hundred British, Dominion and Colonial soldiers who were tried and executed for military offences during the course of the conflict. Controversial at the time, these executions were the subject of much debate and official scrutiny in the inter-war period and, even today, the subject continues to have a bitter and painful resonance. Led by the Shot at Dawn Campaign, pressure for the rehabilitation of these men continues and the case for a millennium pardon was marked in June 2001 by the opening of an emotive memorial to them at the National Memorial Arboretum near Lichfield. However, this paper is not concerned with the justice of the proceedings which led to the deaths of these men. Whether due legal process was followed or whether those executed were suffering from shell shock are difficult and probably unanswerable questions which I will leave to legal and to military historians. Instead of investigating the circumstances of the condemned, this paper turns the spotlight onto the circumstances and attitudes of men whose presence at military executions was as inevitable as that of the prisoner or the firing squad; namely, the commissioned chaplains of the British army.


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