To save content items to your account,
please confirm that you agree to abide by our usage policies.
If this is the first time you use this feature, you will be asked to authorise Cambridge Core to connect with your account.
Find out more about saving content to .
To save content items to your Kindle, first ensure no-reply@cambridge.org
is added to your Approved Personal Document E-mail List under your Personal Document Settings
on the Manage Your Content and Devices page of your Amazon account. Then enter the ‘name’ part
of your Kindle email address below.
Find out more about saving to your Kindle.
Note you can select to save to either the @free.kindle.com or @kindle.com variations.
‘@free.kindle.com’ emails are free but can only be saved to your device when it is connected to wi-fi.
‘@kindle.com’ emails can be delivered even when you are not connected to wi-fi, but note that service fees apply.
In chapter two, Helen O’Connell explores the idea of cultural repression as an unintended consequence of a program of language and cultural renewal. Too often, the early Irish Revival promoted the rewards of cultural renewal without at the same time emphasizing the hard work of education and social improvement that such renewal entailed. Revivalists such as Douglas Hyde and D. P. Moran attempted to reverse social and cultural decline by creating resources out of the cheerless forbearance, that is to say, the suffering of ancestors, all in the name of an Ireland free of any debased and debasing foreign culture. Hyde and Moran were dedicated to the Irish language and the importance of elevating Irish culture and Irish industries and both advocated the rejection of deleterious English influences. But each occupied a different position: one was an Anglo-Protestant and the other a Catholic, one minimized politics and ideology, the other amplified both.
This chapter addresses the challenge of socially "starting from scratch" when moving into a community of approximately 150,000 older adults. It suggests that most residents integrate into overlapping place-, leisure-, and faith-based communities, and experience varying levels of psychological sense of community (PSOC). The chapter also explores the few instances where no PSOC was reported and examines the multiple tensions between different groups based on age, type of residency, and political orientation.
In this chapter, Catherine Morris focuses on the Revival as part of a revolutionary era in Irish history, an era that saw the formation of national identity and national institutions. She shows how revival feminism links the freedom of Ireland to the freedom of women by focusing on the artistic work and social and political thought of neglected or under-studied feminists and activists such as Maud Gonne, Lady Augusta Gregory, Eva Gore-Booth, and Helena Molony. Prominent in this group of activist feminists was Alice Milligan. Milligan’s writings offer a rich context for grasping the idea that activist feminists shaped the Revival and provided an intersectional political space for women. She provides a way to reconsider the importance of the Irish Revival and to emphasize forgotten or neglected elements of it. Morris’s research on revival feminism, but especially her work on Milligan, becomes itself part of the revivalist continuum of political engagement.
In this chapter, Ben Levitas investigates forms of distance and temporal indeterminacy legible in the latter-day revivalist drama of Marina Carr and Brian Friel. In their works, strategies of distance, of “paratheatricality,” seek not to avoid representation but to link it to more authentic experiences for the audience. Both playwrights create a theatre of hope, a theatre for and of the future that testifies to a continuance of the Revival’s main themes and concerns (particularly with respect to time), despite their rejection of the idealism of so many early revivalist works. Friel and Carr achieve a transposition of dramatic life from the stage to the audience – that is to say, from the stage to actual life – which is, in its turn, captured in the dramatic work. Theatrical words are forms of political action insofar as strategies of performative distance and alienation find their place in dramatic productions that support a “grammar of change.”
This chapter discusses the variety of modernist theatrical practices grouped under the rubric ‘Theatre of the Absurd’ by Martin Esslin in the 1960s and demonstrates that absurdist theatre was a much more politically attuned and transnational phenomenon than commonly acknowledged. Esslin’s original aim was to understand theatrical practices in France that were related to, but stood outside of, the boundaries and timelines of the symbolist and surrealist movements, in particular the work of Samuel Beckett, Eugène Ionesco, Arthur Adamov, and Jean Genet. The chapter sets French absurdist drama of the 1950s and 1960s in a wider historical context and calls for the better recognition of a global absurdist canon, tracing the blossoming of a new absurdist drama through playwrights including Virgilio Piñera (Cuba), Halide Edib (Turkey), Issam Mahfouz (Lebanon), Osvaldo Dragún (Argentina), Kobo Abe (Japan), Yusuf Idris and Tawfiq al-Hakim (Egypt), and through the contemporary legacies of Beckett’s absurdist model.
Milícias are mafia-style organizations, often composed of current and former state agents, that have rapidly expanded in areas with limited state presence and weak legal oversight. In Rio de Janeiro, their territorial control is not maintained by coercion alone, but also through strategic political alliances. This article theorizes and tests a mechanism linking milícia expansion to electoral politics: milícias deliver concentrated electoral support to specific politicians, who in return shield their operations by influencing bureaucratic appointments and law enforcement priorities. Using original geospatial and electoral data, we show that milícia entry into a new area increases electoral concentration and disproportionately benefits milícia-aligned candidates in adjacent territories. We further demonstrate that this electoral capital is converted into political power through key bureaucratic appointments that facilitate further expansion and institutional impunity. Our findings support a theoretical framework in which elections reinforce, rather than constrain, criminal governance in democratic settings.
This chapter argues that stand-up comedy events are never apolitical. Politics are expressed and embedded not only in the words that are said but also in the production decisions that shape the context in which they are delivered. The Guilty Feminist podcast is used as an example through which to demonstrate this principle. The podcast presents segments of stand-up comedy within an unconventional format: one that has been designed to serve the political aims and principles of its creators. Key creative decisions are interpreted through the stated political philosophy of the podcast’s co-creator and permanent host, Deborah Frances-White. Her intersectional, feminist politics underpin three important aspects of the podcast’s creative policy: the decision to prioritise women and minority performers, an emphasis on collaboration over competition, and a challenge to conventional wisdoms regarding the nature of comic licence.
Independent Christian Churches were an important aspect of African anticolonial activism, but the political afterlives of these movements in the immediate postcolonial period have been broadly overlooked. This article studies the African Independent Pentecostal Church, focusing on its entanglement with the politics of reconciliation and state-building in a decolonising Kenya. During the 1950s Mau Mau uprising, the church lost its entire portfolio of land, churches, and schools. The article explores how church adherents sought to re-establish themselves on these holdings. These contests reveal that churches were political agents engaged in debates about the boundaries of postcolonial political community and the nature of post-conflict reconciliation. Churches’ roles as landowners and education providers meant denominational rivalries masked political struggles over justice for past violations. Embedded in intra-ethnic conflicts, churches negotiated with elites seeking to establish ethnic constituencies. Through this conflict and compromise, the brokered nature of the postcolonial nation-building project is revealed.
The details of the example of the ‘murderer at the door’ – as it is commonly, if inaccurately called – are more complicated than most interpreters assume. This chapter is dedicated to the details of the case, many of which surface only in the light of other eighteenth-century versions of the story. Does the would-be murderer know that the person hiding his intended victim knows about his murderous intentions? Why are the options of the person asked about the victim’s hiding place restricted to yes or no, and how would this restriction work in practice? What are the reasons or motives of someone who intends to lie to a would-be murderer? And what are Constant’s ‘intermediate principles’, which he introduces to defuse the problem case? The chapter also explores Johann Gottlieb Fichte’s discussion of the case in his 1798 System of Ethics. Fichte and Kant agree that lying is not a legitimate option; but Fichte is by far the more radical moralist of the two.
Politics is an inevitable feature of organisational life, particularly in large bureaucratic organisations such as hospitals or government departments. Political activities arise when there is a lack of consensus about how an organisation should be managed. They are typically employed to reconcile these divergent interests, which may be the result of competition for resources within the organisation, the pursuit of personal goals by individuals or a high level of uncertainty within the organisation.
This chapter lays out the book’s central thesis that Supreme Court decisions changing previously prevailing interpretations of a mostly unaltered written Constitution represent the historical norm, not an exception. The chapter begins by discussing the death of Justice Antonin Scalia in February 2016 and the changes in constitutional doctrine that Scalia, who had pioneered the interpretive methodologies of originalism and textualism, had helped to bring about. The chapter also highlights changes that Scalia had urged but could not persuade a majority of his colleagues to adopt. It describes the political machinations by a Republican Senate majority in the aftermath of Scalia’s death and the similarly partisan maneuvers that resulted in the swift confirmation of a successor to the iconic liberal Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg in 2020. Together, these developments helped produce the Court’s current supermajority of six conservative justices (out of nine), including three appointed by Donald Trump, and inaugurated a new era in constitutional history. After sketching this background, the chapter preliminarily sketches some of the book’s most important themes, including that the Supreme Court is a lawmaking institution but one that is constrained by widely shared understandings of the judicial role in ways that legislative lawmakers are not.
This chapter engages with an important tradition of Marxist literary criticism – principally via Fredric Jameson – that has insisted on the insufficiencies of the naturalist novel as a vehicle for revolutionary impulses. It takes up Jameson’s claims as a spur to reconsidering the contested politics of Zola’s best-selling strike novel Germinal (1885). The chapter conceives of the strike as a particular vehicle for the idealist imagination that Zola obsessively discredits – casting it as a form of ‘impossibilism’, an epithet applied to the earliest manifestation of French Marxism. Embedded in contemporary schisms on the Left, Zola’s strike novel is shown to negotiate with debates about the ethical and political legitimacy of this weapon of working-class struggle, as well as the figure of the ambitious strike leader. Zola’s critical account of political idealism ultimately entails a set of anxious reflections on the naturalist novel’s own modes of representation, as well as its equivocal sense of political purpose.
Little attention has been paid to competitive dynamics from a political perspective, despite numerous instances of political competition across cultures and systems. In liberal democratic societies, political competition is legalized, allowing citizens to elect leaders who represent their ideas. Conversely, in totalitarian societies, citizens lack voting rights, and political authority is not challenged through democratic means. However, political competitions still occur among ruling elites, often through purges to seize power. This chapter explores political competition, particularly in totalitarian regimes, where purges eliminate rivals among ruling elites. The collapse of such regimes has marked an evolution toward freedom and equal opportunities for all individuals, regardless of background, which aligns with Darwin’s theory of evolution. Highlighting the lack of research on political competitions from an evolutionary psychology perspective, this chapter underscores the need for future research on human emotions and competitive behaviors in the political arena.
Pakistan and India were born of conflict and have endured over seventy-five years of rivalry since their birth in 1947. This has led to South Asia being one of the least integrated regions in the world, constraining its economic potential and human development. Yet the relationship has not been one of unending conflict; there have been periods of calm and even hope. Cricket, a common heritage and passion for both, has often delivered episodes of optimism, providing glimpses of what India-Pakistan cooperation could achieve were a conducive environment provided. On several occasions cricket has succeeded in uniting people of the estranged nations, allowing the nascent cultural ties that have existed for centuries to flourish. This article looks at how periods of connectivity and rupture between India and Pakistan have been reflected in the cricketing ties between the two nations and how these ties have been impacted by the wider political environment.
Émile Zola was the nineteenth century's pre-eminent naturalist writer and theoretician, spearheading a cultural movement that was rooted in positivist thought and an ethic of sober observation. As a journalist, Zola drove home his vision of a type of literature that described rather than prescribed, that anatomised rather than embellished—one that worked, in short, against idealism. Yet in the pages of his fiction, a complex picture emerges in which Zola appears drawn to the ideal—to the speculative, the implausible, the visionary—more than he liked to admit. Spanning the period from Zola's epic Germinal to his fateful intervention in the Dreyfus Affair, Zola's Dream is the first book to explore how the 'quarrel' between idealists and naturalists shaped the ambitions of the novel at the end of the nineteenth century, when differences over literary aesthetics invariably spoke of far-reaching cultural and political struggles.
Draws from an extensive literature review on food politics to propose a Framework of Holistic Politics for Food System Transformation. The Framework posits that food systems transformation would be a process/outcome of interrelated political configurations of actions across four processes or stages: 1) Identifying resistance to change in the current regime, 2) Creating and sustaining new momentum, 3) Converting new momentum into sustainable options; -and cross-cutting, 4) Managing trade-offs, reducing incoherence, and prioritization. At each stage, four domains of politics must be considered, including 1) Power, the political economy of actors, knowledge, and evidence; 2) Cultural dynamics, norms, and behavior; 3) Capacity and financial resources; and 4) Technological innovations). To deliver normative transformation, these actions must be carried out in four distinct processes. The Framework underscores the need for normative and goal-oriented processes, the multi-dimensionality of politics, and the normative driving environment in governance food systems transformation.
Although the social democrats fundamentally opposed the political order of the German Empire, they participated in parliament from the beginning. The party not only sat on the parliamentary benches, but its representatives also proved to be committed parliamentarians. Using a combination of parliamentary, party, and movement sources, this article shows that social democrats’ parliamentary participation followed two lines of reasoning. First, the party admitted that parliamentary participation served publicity purposes. In fact, social democrats took the Reichstag stage to present their political project to the masses. Second, the party was less willing to admit that parliament fitted perfectly into the associational tradition of working-class culture. Orderly and fair debate had been the norm of social democratic activism long before the party was founded. It is precisely this last aspect that provides an important and previously overlooked explanation for the social democrats’ surprising devotion to a political system they so deeply detested.
In the Republic, Socrates sets up rational self-rule, archein hautou, as the ideal state, with what we might call rational other-rule as second best (590d3-5). This paper will focus on the role of dialectic in the process of establishing self-rule from two perspectives: an agent having been raised by an educational program under ideal political conditions, focusing on the Republic; and an agent trying to engage in philosophical self-improvement under non-ideal political conditions, focusing on the Hippias Major. This may be seen as a contrast between a top-down and a bottom-up approach to establishing rational self-rule. My thesis is that, in both cases, an intermediate or provisional form of rational self-rule needs to be established in order to achieve full self-rule, and that, in both approaches, the provisional state of rational self-rule shares some important features of the final state of rational self-rule, what we might call wisdom, but these are different features in the two cases.
What does it mean to be a public Catholic institution in Canada? How does this Catholic identity evolve with the secularisation and diversification of society, and with the rising awareness of the complicated legacy of Catholicism and colonisation in Canada? This article explores those questions drawing on document analysis and interviews with staff working in Catholic health care. Taking a legal pluralist approach, it documents how Catholic health-care institutions navigate between transnational canon laws and ethics, and human rights law. Catholic health care is situated in a web of national and transnational legal regimes. We argue that this navigation takes different forms to adapt to societal changes, such as the authorization of Medical Assistance in Dying (MAiD). This article speaks directly to how Christianity continues to play a subtle, but still constant presence in Canadian Catholic hospitals, and debunks tropes that construct relationships between state and religion as one of clear separation.
Chapter 6 highlights a few implications for political legitimacy and the theory of legitimacy that can be derived from some of the key points that I have touched upon in Chapters 4 and 5. The implications include the following: (1) the character of a theory of political legitimacy is at the same time conservative and progressive, albeit more progressive than conservative; (2) the scope of evaluation and judgment that a theory of political legitimacy entails must avoid two dangerous paths: the first one is thinking that it is not possible to produce valid evaluations and judgments of legitimacy, and the second one is evaluating and judging all political situations from one’s own perspective; (3) evidence—that is, what people think and feel—can be called upon and mobilized for the evaluation and judgment of legitimacy; and (4) contemporary politics is especially relevant to the discussion of legitimacy.