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Based upon an analysis of 30 historic narrative accounts of mutinies, Coye, Murphy, and Spencer recently extended voice theory to clarify the ontological status of the concept of upward defiance. The purpose of this article is to extend the framework of Coye et al. and illustrate the process of escalation towards hostility to offer practicing managers guidance on appropriate steps to interrupt the extreme escalation of member resistance.

The authors examined the significant historical insurrection within the 1921 Battle of Blair Mountain. With the case of the Blair Mountain War, the historical record provides ample narrative data for a textual, interpretive, pseudo‐ethnographical analysis.

The examination of the Battle of Blair Mountain provides additional support for the upward organizational defiance framework proposed by Coye, Murphy, and Spencer. In addition, the authors have extended the theoretical upward defiance framework to account for the escalation of constructive to destructive forms of voice towards mutiny to reveal managerial actions and attitudes to mitigate follower defiance.

The common limitation to any historic case study is one of generalizability, although it often useful to accept the trade‐off between limited generalizability and the potential discernment associated with the methodology.

The paper investigates a mutiny outside of a maritime setting to offer support for Coye et al.’s conceptual framework, extend that framework in a manner more consistent with organizational practice, and offer guidance to practitioners.

The nexus where law, social movements, and organizations meet demands further explication. This research adds to our understandings of these dynamics by examining the case of the central Appalachian anti-strip mining movement. After developing a social network technique to analyze over thirty years of newspapers, we find a period of reduced movement activity following the passage of the Surface Mining Control and Reclamation Act of 1977. Conversely, we observe a reinvigoration of the movement following the passage of the Clean Air Amendments of 1990 and the perverse incentives they created for mountaintop removal mining. Finally, we see that joint participation in lawsuits is a primary tie that binds these groups together.

In this study I revisit the Cuban missile crisis of 1962, in order to gain additional perspective on the relationship between organizational decision making and crisis outcomes. This exercise is an historical “counterfactual” or “what if” excursion, using recently declassified documents and simulated exchange calculations, from which I hope to draw three principal benefits. First, the study may shed some additional light on why Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev was willing to take such a dangerous gamble. Second, our counterfactual crisis suggests that the risk of inadvertent war, so much written about in connection with Cuba, 1962, was less important than the risk of a deliberate, but miscalculated, escalation. Third, the balance of command and control vulnerability might have mattered more to crisis‐ridden US leaders than the balance of strategic nuclear forces. If so, it helps to explain the apparent reluctance of US leaders to employ highly coercive forms of nuclear brinkmanship.

The article chronicles the use of a Civil War soldier's diary to teach Civil War history. The project was carried out over a two-semester period in a social studies pedagogy class. The professor and students in cooperative learning groups and whole group discussions interpreted the diary. In this unique process, they also discussed how primary sources might be used to teach middle school and high school students United States History as a dynamic process of real people and not simply facts.

The student revolt of 1967 to 1974, which finally expired about 1978, retains its fascination and much of its significance in the twenty‐first century. But the seven or so years which preceded it are often passed over as simply a precursor, the incubation of a subsequent explosion; they deserve a higher status. The concentration of interest on the late 1960s and early 1970s arises from the driving role of students in the cultural revolution whose traumatic impact still echoes with us. As late as 2005 some commentators saw federal legislation introducing Voluntary Student Unionism as the culmination of struggles in the 1970s when Deputy Prime Minister Costello and Health Minister Abbott battled their radical enemies. Interest in these turbulent years at a popular, non‐academic level has produced a succession of nostalgic reminiscences. In the Sydney Morning Herald’s ‘Good Weekend’ for 13 December 2003 Mark Dapin pondered whether the Melbourne Maoists had changed their world views (‘Living by the Little Red book’.) In the Sydney University Gazette of October 1995 Andrew West asserted that the campus radicals of the 1960s and ‘70s had remained true to their basic beliefs (‘Not finished fighting’.) Some years later, in April 2003, the editor of that journal invited me to discuss ‘Where have all the rebels gone?’ My answer treated this as a twofold question: What has happened to the former rebels? Why have the students of today abandoned radicalism?

SEPTEMBER finds the summer irrevocably over, although there will still be one or two very beautiful months in the English autumn remaining. It is usually the time when the older librarian thinks of conferences, and today he realizes regretfully that these have receded into what already seems a remote past. This month as we write we have to repeat the expectation we have expressed every month since May that before these words appear in print the threatened lightning attack on the life of England will have been made by the Nazis. It is becoming so customary, however, that one can only suggest that so far as circumstances allow we proceed with our normal work. The circumstances may make this difficult but they should be faced. One thing stands out: that in public libraries, at anyrate, the demands made by readers have gradually returned to their usual level and in some places have risen above it. This does not always mean that the figures are as high as they were, because in many of the great cities and towns a part of the population, including a very large number of the children, have been evacuated. In spite of the pressure on the population as a whole, it would seem that head for head more books are being read now than at any previous time.