De zwaargewonden eerst? Het Nederlandsche Roode Kruis en het vraagstuk van oorlog in vrede 1867–1945

emotional and intellectual rationales for the movement. At the same time he explores in meticulous detail the complicated practical politics involved. The heart of the story lies in the irony of the movement's survival, the success of the philanthropic effort to "civilize war" being met only through accommodation to, and then generous assistance of, the militaristic interests of individual nation states. By documenting this "militarization of philanthropy", Hutchinson not only fulfils the book's promise "to help us to a clearer understanding of the relationship between organized charity, war, and the state" (p. 4), but also effectively punctures the internationalist, humanitarian, and pacific image of the Red Cross. The myth is blown as much by the evidence of enthusiastic support for the movement from states such as Prussia and Japan, as by the opposition to it from Florence Nightingale, who shrewdly perceived that it would only encourage the business of warring. Many of the book's excellent illustrations further highlight that the Red Cross ultimately served best, not the cause of suffering humanity, but the patriotic propaganda of belligerents. To oppose the Red Cross became, as in America during the First World War, an act of treason. Only in the aftermath of the Great War were some long discarded pacific and civilian purposes revived, such as disaster relief and the implementing of public health measures. Such goals were advocated by the American Red Cross, which also went so far as to set up an office in Geneva to contest the authority of the would-be Genevan overlords. But until the 1920s, when new agendas and new relations of power came into play, national differences and factionalism continued to dominate. Whether Champions of charity would have been greatly improved if its author had gained access to the archives in Geneva is a moot point. But almost certainly that would have made it a different and less engaging book. For the "courteous stonewalling" (p. 3) that Hutchinson received from the guardians of the official records has not only enabled him to share the experience of some of his historical actors, but has also added great force to, if not determined, his compulsion to slaughter the "sacred cow" of the Red Cross's image and history. Yet this strength-the passion to lay low once and for all the pacific, international, and humanitarian myths of the movement's making-is also the book's weakness. It leads Hutchinson virtually to indict …