The Declaration of Independence, usually regarded principally or even exclusively as a manifesto about certain “inalienable rights,” is better understood, especially historically, as a complex argument about popular sovereignty. Who exactly were “the people” who were entitled, as in the America of 1776, to secede from the British Empire and then claim their own rights of “self-determination”? The Declaration begins with the assertion that Americans were “one people.” But that was demonstrably false, even in 1776, and has become even more so since then. After all, James Madison, in Federalist 10, emphasizes the plurality of interests, including, religion and property, that generate “faction” and the possibility of tyranny of governing elites. Does the Declaration, even if complemented by the Constitution, supply enough of an “American creed” to supply the basis for genuine unity and political amity or does it instead plant the seeds for further division and even secession in the name of self-determination and government by consent of the governed?

This chapter examines the narrative of cybersecurity in China’s mass media, with a focus on the domestication of cybersecurity and its subsequent challenge to democracy. While much ink has been spilled over cybersecurity in (Western) democracies, less is known about the narrative and discourse of cybersecurity in an authoritarian context and its implications for global Internet governance and security. This chapter fills this gap by exploring news narratives on cybersecurity in China’s domestic mass media after the enactment of the Cybersecurity Law of the People’s Republic of China in 2017. Drawing on computer-assisted semantic network analysis of 9,094 news articles and commentaries, this chapter uncovers how the Chinese regime is adopting a discourse of cybersecurity to legitimize and consolidate its control over the Internet and to counter the challenges of global Internet connection. This domestication discourse is further utilized to place blame on the West for cyber threats. This chapter concludes with thoughts on the domestication of cybersecurity by authoritarian regimes like China and the challenge of defending cybersecurity.

This chapter lays out the book’s argument in two parts. First, it first develops the concept of self-determination as understood by state and non-state actors in the Global South to apply to the legitimate exercise of power in the international system. Rather than requiring strict sovereignty and exclusion of outside actors, self-determination is about the nature of cooperation and international involvement. It requires that people, through their governments, be able to domestically affirm international rules and to meaningfully participate in their enforcement. The second part of this chapter explains how establishing regional organizations as an authority over issue areas can be a strategy for realizing self-determination and why, in the case of human rights, it necessitated compromising on the norm of non-interference. This strategy is effective at deterring pressure from Western governments because it combines and appeals to widely held beliefs about the legitimacy of self-rule with beliefs about the importance of exercising power through international organizations.

Why have regional organizations become authorities over human rights and international intervention, and what explains the differences in regional authority across different regions? Why did leaders in some parts of the Global South go from rejecting any interference to arguing for the central role of regional organizations in international interference? This chapter introduces the central questions addressed by this book and provides an overview of its core argument, focusing on the creation of new regional authority at one important moment: the emergence of regional organizations as authorities over human rights. This was the first time when leaders in the Global South changed from arguing for complete non-interference to arguing that legitimate interference should be carried out by or with the involvement of regional organizations. They did so as a strategy of subtle resistance to new challenges to self-determination, in the form of economic enforcement of human rights by Western governments. In regions targeted by this enforcement, leaders responded by establishing their regional organizations as authorities over human rights, accepting regional interference for the first time.

This chapter explores implications of the argument made in this book for other areas of international relations scholarship and for contemporary international politics, with regional authority and self-determination continuing to occupy an important place in the international politics of the Global South. It considers how incorporating the importance of self-determination, and the idea of regional organizations as a means of realizing it, can provide more complete understandings of contemporary political phenomena. I discuss how the argument in this book sheds light on the Global South’s dissatisfaction with liberal norms and institutions, the openness of democratic states in the Global South to cooperation with illiberal powers, and present-day dynamics of regionalism, including the creation of “new” regions and the growth of “authoritarian” regional organizations.

Just a few years after Latin American leaders began to establish regional authority over human rights, African leaders started to face similar economic pressure in their relations with European governments, most significantly in the context of the Lomé Convention, an aid and preferential trade agreement with the European Economic Community. In response, African leaders created their own regional human rights system from scratch, setting up a human rights charter and a commission to enforce the charter within the Organization of African Unity. This chapter traces the drafting history of the African Charter of Human and Peoples’ Rights, showing that the initiative to create a regional human rights system was led by prominent human rights advocates who wanted an African-owned and -led system. Many African leaders were concerned with the level of authority given to the proposed human rights commission and the fact that it compromised on non-interference. They ultimately accepted it, in spite of these concerns, because of the shadow cast by new Western enforcement.

Where the 1970s and 1980s was a period of dramatic change in the use of regional organizations and attitudes towards the norm of non-interference in Latin America and Africa, the Middle East followed a very different trajectory. The changes in global norms and advocacy surrounding human rights in the 1970s coincided with the Middle East’s increased importance in Western foreign policy and the explosion of oil wealth in the region. Because of this, Western governments did not attempt to enforce human rights in this region, and as a result, leaders in the region made no changes towards establishing regional authority over human rights. Instead, the emergence of the human rights movement in the 1970s had the effect of short-circuiting earlier advances towards creating human rights institutions. It was only in the early 2000s, following the start of the Global War on Terror, that the Arab League finally began to develop new human rights institutions, and these institutions have been weaker and subject to greater state control. In contrast to Latin America and Africa, regional human rights institutions in the Middle East represent a straightforward attempt to deflect international pressure.

What should we make of the dramatic appearance of the Leveller leader John Lilburne in Hatfield Level in 1651, at the height of a decade of anti-improvement riots? This unusual contact between central radicalism and rural unrest destabilises binaries between a zealous minority driving civil war conflict and indifferent provincial subjects. Fen projects instead expose the pluralism of political ideas in seventeenth-century England. These crown-led ventures polarised notions of justice and became entangled in the events and debates propelling the English civil wars. In Epworth Manor, commoners across the social spectrum asserted an inalienable ‘just right’ to wetland commons in the face of royal and republican coercion. The strength of customary politics extended far beyond the parish, becoming a powerful means to articulate opposition to improvement in conflicts that moved between wetlands and Westminster. Central governors ultimately struggled to exercise a monopoly over legitimacy or violence in Epworth, where collective action across almost a century repelled efforts to turn their commons into theatres of state power and national productivity.

Latin America was the first and most intense target of the imposition of economic enforcement of human rights. The strategy of establishing regional organizations as authorities over human rights emerged in response to these new enforcement policies. This meant greatly expanding the authority of the Organization of American States and, for the first time, allowing it to interfere in member states’ internal affairs to enforce human rights. This strategy emerged first as an authoritarian survival strategy put forward by the Chilean government in response to unprecedented challenges to its domestic behaviors. However, democratic leaders in the region transformed it into a strategy involving real enforcement once economic pressure spread to the entire region. As this chapter demonstrates, the idea that regional organizations have special authority over human rights had not been taken for granted prior to this, as human rights were not understood as an issue that could be altered to fit local contexts. Instead, Latin American leaders–including democracies and leaders supporting human rights enforcement–argued forcefully for this new authority.

This chapter explores anti-utopian satire in bestselling British author Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series. Like the anti-chivalric satire of Cervantes, Shakespeare, and Voltaire, the Discworld books celebrate pragmatism and local knowledge rather than political ideals. The Discworld is alive with vivid utopian impulses, however, the chapter argues that they frequently lack concrete detail. Pratchett is more concerned with constructing a colourful world of humour, heroism, and villainy. The Ankh-Morpork books reflect on the processes of historical change, accelerating a medieval city-state into liberal industrial modernity via an array of fantastically estranged forms. The city itself, however, fails to actualise into a utopian vision of the future. Rather, Pratchett’s fantasy series articulates a deep suspicion of the kind of political radicalism often associated with utopian thinking. Through a close reading of two books in the series, Night Watch (2002) and Making Money (2007), the chapter considers how Pratchett’s fantasy world laments structural violence whilst lampooning utopian remedies to such violence, such as democratic elections, trade unions, industrial action, or new kinds of post-capitalist value.

The introduction provides historical and theoretical framings for this book. It situates the American military presence in postwar China within two interconnected contexts of China’s civil war confrontations and America’s global occupation. It engages with existing historiographies by locating China in the American empire and locating America in Communist propaganda. Through the micro-lens of the everyday, it also analyzes the actual and critical links between grassroots frictions and Sino-US relations.

Chapter 1 examines the the US military operations in China within the volatile context of the civil war and the emerging Cold War. As the US forces accepted the Japanese surrender, clashed with Communist forces in sporadic skirmishes, and adjudicated trials of Japanese criminals in China independent of the Nationalist Government, they staged an American victory, might, and justice to both enemies and allies. The tactic of “show of force” was used in a “peaceful” mission to ensure submission and deference. However, its diverse, ambiguous, and at times contradictory objectives created significant military and political challenges. Ultimately, occupying China became a mission impossible.

In January 1950, the missionaries reported a vicious attack and an attempted stoning while preaching in the town of Castel Gandolfo, home to the Papal Palace and the Pope’s summer residence. The missionaries’ efforts to preach and proselytize in the town sparked outrage among the local population, with violent reactions allegedly incited by the local clergy. Accounts of the incident varied. In Italy, the police and pro-Vatican press sought to downplay the event, framing it as a reaction to the missionaries’ perceived insensitive and aggressive behavior, and accusing them of aiding the spread of Communism. The missionaries seized the opportunity to raise awareness of their challenges and promote their mission. The crisis garnered headlines in the United States, leading to a significant mobilization in Congress, where senators and representatives urged the Truman administration to pressure the Italian government to allow the missionaries to preach and proselytize. The Italian Foreign Ministry and the State Department entered into protracted negotiations, which lasted several years, as they sought a practical solution that could accommodate the many actors involved. The Castel Gandolfo incident thus became a flashpoint in the broader struggle over religious freedom, sovereignty, and Cold War geopolitics.

After his visa extension was denied, the mission’s leader, Cline Paden, made unsuccessful attempts to return to Italy. He moved to Denmark for a few years before eventually settling back in Texas, where he established a missionary school in Abilene – the Sunset International Bible Institute (SIBI) – and became a prominent figure in the Churches of Christ. Meanwhile, the Italian mission continued its precarious existence, never achieving the status of a major religious player as it had hoped and attracting only a few hundred members. One of the defining features of its story was the stark contrast between the mission’s limited success and the disproportionate political and diplomatic attention its activities garnered. Yet, thanks to their “Americanness” and the ability to leverage the United States’ unique power and influence over its junior Italian ally, the Texans played a significant role in advancing religious pluralism and freedom in Italy – a fact acknowledged even by other long-established Protestant churches such as the Waldensians that had little or no political or theological sympathy for the Church of Christ.

The chapter examines the relatively underexplored relations of property, sovereignty, and security underlying transitional justice by focusing on the national and “European” legal space of Polish lustration and postsocialist Eastern European transitional justice more generally from a critical legal and social-materialist perspective. The chapter offers an analysis of the key European resolutions, the rulings of the European Court of Human Rights, the legal doctrine of “militant democracy,” and the landmark verdicts of Poland’s Constitutional Tribunal concerning lustration. In particular, this analysis critically interrogates the public–private distribution of responsibility, the problem of corporate sovereignty and immunity, and the authoritarian logic of security underpinning neoliberal and liberal capitalist citizenship. While highlighting the importance of the interdependence of legal rights and struggles, the chapter urges us to go beyond the binary of liberalism and authoritarianism and attend to the ways in which rightwing authoritarian populism grows out of liberal legal and capitalist institutions and frameworks.

Chapter 7 discusses the emergence of new actors in the Kuroshio frontier over the decades after the shogunate’s retreat from the Bonin Islands. It observes that pirates, state officials, and scientists formed a triangle of frontier actors. The pirate Benjamin Pease vied for state approval of his local rule in the Bonins, but eventually it was individuals like the official-botanist Tanaka Yoshio or the Bonin settler Thomas Webb who helped showcase the colonial flagship project of the young Meiji empire. The relationship of state and commercial agents, as much as the swift reconfiguration of settler identities on the ground, reflected the physical fluidity and political instability of the contested ocean frontier. Taming this frontier was a project of ideological significance for Japan. Clarifying the state’s relationship with its new subjects by testing new forms of subjecthood was central to this process. The flagship colony in the Bonin Islands became the site of state-funded agrarian experiments centered on exotic fruits and medical plants. Showcased at agricultural exhibitions, these experiments underpinned the “enlightened” character of Japanese colonialism.