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The conclusion operates around four questions. First, the appropriate extent and limitations of networks and who should set the boundaries. Self-evidently, the less well-known networks created by the most marginalized, particularly lower-class women of color and Indigenous people at the outer edges of empires and religious traditions, are still the most under-researched and the least understood. Second, how to critically evaluate the relationship between Christianity and empire in the early modern and modern world. Christian expansion and the rise of the European empires are inextricably linked; they are not always in synchronicity regarding objectives or consequences. Third, how did the various revolutions in communications, from the print to the digital revolutions, shape the content of nuclei, the nature and location of nodes that became most important, and the ways networks expanded? Finally, how helpful is it to think of religious traditions capable of transnational mobility in terms of a religious nucleus with a particular DNA core? What inner cores of ideas and practices enabled these disparate religious traditions to grow and thrive thousands of miles from their origins?
This chapter examines the related objectives of defining spatial clusters and delineating spatial boundaries in discontinuous data. The former often proceeds by grouping together adjacent locations when they have the most similar characteristics; the latter proceeds by estimating boundaries between locations that are most different. For this, there are several methods available that suggest ’boundary elements’ as possible components of a final division or complete boundary, depending on the kind of data (e.g. binary versus qualitative versus continuous quantitative) and the arrangement of the measured locations (e.g. regular lattice versus irregular spatial network). Once boundaries have been established, statistics are available to evaluate them, including boundary overlap measures. Clusters and boundaries represent two aspects of the same phenomenon, with the same challenge of formalizing similarity and difference in continuous spatial data.
In this case of Complex Ethics Consultations: Cases that Haunt Us, the author recounts an ethics consultation involving a 70-year-old Roman Catholic nun in the cardiac ICU after emergency bypass and mitral valve replacement. As difficult postoperative complications began to resolve, including her respiratory function, the patient indicated that she wanted all treatments stopped, but in the past she had accepted treatments after initial reluctance. She pointed to her trach, saying she wanted it to be removed. Upon questioning by the ethics consultant, her discomfort was with the tube, not the ventilator per se. Reducing the diameter of the trach tube eased her comfort and she consented to a two-day trial. She was subsequently weaned from the vent. The author reflects on professional boundaries in ethics consultations and the risk that ethics consultants can inadvertently become stewards of the "culture of death" when they make premature assumptions.
Constitutions are fundamental sources of authority in the states that adopt them. Yet, many constitutions offer little guidance about who is eligible for citizenship and what it means to have citizenship. This vagueness often gives rise to fierce contestation about the boundaries of membership in some constitutional states. In the essay that follows, we do not attempt to resolve this contestation. Instead, we distinguish citizenship from other forms of membership, offer an overview of the concept of citizenship, and specify citizenship’s relationship to constitutional theory. We discuss the theories that undergird citizenship practices, the norms that guide its administration, and the ways in which boundaries are established in order to delimit citizenship. We also highlight common boundary problems generated by democratic citizenship even when it is explicitly defined by established constitutional jurisprudence and describe how these boundary problems create complicated challenges that citizens, non-citizens, and states must navigate.
In Chapter 6, I offer a narrative of how Tehran, as both a physical reality and a conceptual entity, captures the imagination of its residents. The chapter is organized around two emerging cities. The first is a material city that is sometimes admired as “modern,” “developed,” or “comparable to other modern capitals,” and sometimes criticized as “a betrayal of Tehran’s history,” “superficial,” “fake,” “a parody of other cities, with no authenticity.” I explore a second emerging city, a perceptual Tehran, through the narratives that engage with the city as a symbolic entity. Through these expressions, I lay out how Tehran is perceived by its residents, showing that identifying with the city is common and that place identities are more influenced by a sense of belonging to the city than to specific neighborhoods. Furthermore, Tehran has become a new source of inspiration for an unprecedented number of artworks and literature in recent years. Accordingly, while the chapter explores perceptions of the city through narratives of its residents, it also draws on examples of works of art and literature to examine how the city is reproduced and, thus, remembered and celebrated.
As Chapter 4 has already made clear, this chapter is not another caravan-to-car story. Nor is it another case study of threatening mobility vs. governmentality. It is rather a continuation of Chapter 4 on the transformations of economic and political geography that put caravans to the test. Building on Chapter 4 and contrary to developmentalist notions of modernisation, this chapter argues that the end of caravans was a cumulative process, just like its persistence until the interwar period. New kinds of territorialisation (automobility and what I define as the ‘evening of mobility’ were part of it, indeed) fostered gradual disintegration and divergence across the caravan regional market. This would gradually erode the caravans’ raison d’être and deepen their transition to shorter routes while camels and traders would find new employments.
This chapter begins with the First World War, when camels were used in unprecedented numbers by fighting armies. The First World War was the first step in the gradual transformation of the economic and political geography of the Middle East. It had deep influence on caravan trade and, following the caravans during the war and in the midst of borders negotiations, one can see how transnational and national form in parallel through overland mobility. With the following one, this chapter benefits from a dense and heterogeneous source base, which allows for the inclusion of lively narratives in order to give a full extent to Middle Eastern experiences of these transformations.
The Introduction begins by unpacking a 1929 Taiwanese civil case where multiple parties were concerned with the formation of a marriage, showing how the case – and public debates as well as other civil and criminal cases presented in this book – evolved around sociolegal problems across the empire, social customs and new forms of family, masculinity tied to household relationships, and Taiwanese women’s agency. The argument of the circulation of gender ideals is followed using ethnographic and historical backgrounds on marriage gifts, daughter adoption, and premarital sexual relationships in Japan and Taiwan from the late nineteenth century through the 1910s. Grounded in these historical contexts, the Introduction suggests gender was at the center of Japan’s international and colonial relations, the competition surrounding Taiwanese masculinity in society and law, and the contested formation of Taiwanese women’s agency in the colonial courts. The final section outlines the organization of Geographies of Gender by highlighting the shift in narrative from the larger historical circumstances surrounding the Japanese empire to the specific interactions between discourse and colonial law in gendered terms.
This chapter seeks keywords and concepts that will enable us to grasp the contradictory and conflictive globality of the current moment and sharpen our analysis of equally contradictory and conflictive global pasts. In a plea to move beyond equating the global with openness, connection, and integration, I address the role of closure, boundaries, and limits in global history in a wider sense. For this purpose, I explore in an experimental and deliberately open-ended fashion how thinking about global spherescan be utilised fruitfully for the current practice of history writing. The first part explores the radically inclusive yet claustrophobic vision of the globe as a closed sphere from which there is no escape. Building on earlier closed-world and one-world discourses, this thinking gained prominence after the Second World War in the face of the threat of nuclear destruction and environmental degradation. I then move to think about the globe as composed of many bounded spheres – geopolitical but also social. Here, I take central examples from the realm of communication and language and discusses the public sphere as an exclusionary rather than inclusionary figure of thought.
More-than-human refusal, as an expression of agency, plays an active role in constructing boundaries. In this article, I address what kind of environmental education is made possible by the productive constraints of respecting more-than-human boundaries and refusal. This is intertwined with how humans can practice being attentive to the intra-actions of more-than-humans when they are not physically present, are only speculated to be present or are present through artifacts. I rhizomatically analyse my relationship with a leafcutter bee (Megachile spp.) nest as a situated example of practicing a relational ethic of care. Through queering the boundary between myself and the leafcutter bee, nature becomes not something that I (human) experience, but as something we (bougainvillea-leafcutter bee-nest-human assemblage) produce through our human-and-more-than-human relationality. Rather than seeing limited proximity as prohibitive, environmental education can use this productive constraint to know-with more-than-human others in a way that disrupts the nature/culture binary — to blur the boundaries between humans and more-than-humans without violating the agency asserted by more-than-humans.
This chapter investigates fundamentalist experience in self-described fundamentalist communities in order to ascertain the structures and motivations of their experiences. It shows how fundamentalist experience provides an alternative space and time, thus separating itself from society and living in highly structured fashion. Such experience is marked by an intense preoccupation with corporeality in particular, although affect also plays an important role. Fundamentalist communities provide a whole vision of the world – a way of being in the world – that makes other ways of living impossible to envision. Fundamentalist experience is essentially not at home in the world and is marked by profound angst about its own existence. It therefore cannot allow individual appropriation of religious life, but imposes tight control on its members. Fundamentalist experience is deeply marked by the desire for assurance and security in the face of the loss of the home, the world, and one’s identity within it.
This chapter gets to the heart of why the disciplinary imagination of international law is only able to see deterritorialisation without reterritorialisation, by excavating the content of the orthodox concept(s) of territory and scrutinising the spatial assumptions. For it is how territory is understood that forces the production of aterritorial functionalist account of law. The chapter reviews the standard definition(s) of territory before deconstructing the characteristics and qualities of the concept of territory. These include: that territory is only states’; that territory is imagined in a two-dimensional, flat, jigsaw-like form; that the physical referents are analytically prioritised over the social; that territory tends to be imagined as homogeneous, uniform, and contiguous ; that territory is bound by a particular technology and representation of borders; and that territories are relatively static. The final sections delve into the signification of territory and outline five different uses for territory in the discourse, before exploring how territory has mediated legal theoretical understandings of sovereignty.
The book’s closing Chapter 9 on change in economics begins with an examination of the methodological problem of explaining what counts as change, and argues change in economics needs to be explained in terms of economics’ relationships to other disciplines. It argues that economics’ core–periphery structure works to insulate its core from other disciplines’ influences upon it, minimizing their influences. This raises the question: Can other disciplines influence economics’ core and potentially produce change in economics? To investigate this question, the chapter develops an open–closed systems model of disciplinary boundary crossings and argues that economics’ core is only incompletely closed and consequently its adopting other disciplines’ contents can change its interpretation. Using the different forms of relationships between disciplines distinguished in Chapter 7, mainstream economics’ relations to other disciplines are argued to currently be interdisciplinarity, but may also be unstable and can break down. When and under what circumstances? Moving from what happens within social science, two sets of external forces influencing change in economics – change in how research is done and historical changes in social values and social expectations regarding what economics is and should be about – are argued likely to increase boundary crossings between economics and other disciplines, undermine the insularity of its core, and move economics toward being a multidisciplinary, more pluralistic discipline. What would then be especially different about economics would be that individuals are seen as socially embedded and an objective economics is seen as a normative, value-entangled science.
This chapter explores the contrast between two types of ultimate authority (the tyrant and the sovereign) and the material limits on both through a study of Sophocles’ Oedipus Tyrannos. It begins with an examination of the shared terrain between the two terms, and then moves to a study of the discursive development of tyrannos in ancient Greece. Two insights result: first, notions of sovereignty depend on some idea of limits or boundaries, whether recognized or not, to differentiate it from illegitimate tyranny. Second, the legitimacy problem is always political, depending on power and contestation; claims to either sort of ultimate authority will never find secure or self-evident foundations. Oedipus – a benevolent tyrant who has faith in his power because he escaped his fate and has bested the Sphnix – ends up unwittingly demonstrating the limits of both types of claims to ultimate authority. Attempting to find freedom beyond democratic knowledge and the constraints of time and inheritance, Oedipus’s refusal to remain bounded by the material limits of human existence results in his tragic downfall.
The Precipice of Hope: a conversation with Hahrie Han The concluding contribution to the volume features a conversation with scholar and activist Hahrie Han. Drawing on Han’s extensive experience as an adviser to popular movements across political divides, the conversation revisits the main questions of the volume: what is popular sovereignty and how can we understand and repurpose this historically important concept today? What is a people and under what conditions can a sense of solidarity across a vast array of social and political differences be build? Last but not least, are the idea and regulative ideal of rule of the people, and the very existence of a people that can govern itself, necessarily fictional, and to what extent is fiction an indispensable dimension of political concepts and norms.
In its early decades, Antiquity regularly featured the subject of linear earthworks that criss-cross the British landscape. Subsequently, however, discussion has been largely relegated to period-specific and local journals. As a result, interpretations of these imposing but often poorly dated earthworks have been drawn in the contrasting research traditions of later prehistory and the early medieval period. Here, the authors propose a comparative dialogue as a means for reinterpreting these landscape features, and as a lens through which to explore social complexity. Combined with advances in archaeometrical dating, this new approach promises to reinvigorate the study of some of Britain's largest archaeological monuments.
Group Analysis is a particular approach to group psychotherapy as developed by S. H. Foulkes. Key influences and shared ground with other approaches are noted. This brief overview focuses largely on key constituents of the setting and format of group analysis as a psychological treatment. The group analyst, referred to as the conductor, and their dual roles of group administrator and group therapist are briefly explored. Vignettes show this therapeutic approach, in both therapeutic and non-clinical settings. Some key group analytic phenomena are illuminated as is the minimally interventive, analytical approach of the conductor. We encounter ‘John’ at three key stages namely pre-group preparation, joining a new group, and a preparing to leave the group. The conductor’s responsibilities are explored, specifically their intention to help the group develop a therapeutic culture, where dependence on the group conductor is replaced by a greater connectedness to each other. The conductor’s ability to trust the group to find its way is noted while their role in helping this process is not undervalued. Communication, both conscious and unconsciously is a central concern of the group analytic approach.
Working online and by phone can be useful in certain circumstances. However, it is important to be mindful that psychodynamic therapy online or by phone requires a shift in frame, boundaries, and setting. In order for the therapy to remain helpful and containing, both therapist and patient should be clear on the new framework and be able to review and consider in-person sessions if needed. This chapter uses clinical examples to illustrate some of these differences and how they might offer opportunities and also challenges. In addition, it includes discussion on technical and practical issues to consider if embarking on psychodynamic therapy online or by phone.
The academic interest in popular entertainment was long retarded by a class attitude that regarded it as a cultural phenomenon of inferior quality. Those who researched it were collectors and enthusiasts rather than professional scholars. The disdain of the Frankfurt School was also a factor. In the 1960s, with the rise of leisure studies and a Marxist-inflected interest in working-class culture, this began to change. The study of popular forms is now an accepted, even dominant part of the humanities curriculum, though still occasionally tinged with apology.
This chapter examines the impact of state formation, in the form of the rise of the civil parish, on manorial governance structures. Through examining churchwardens’ accounts, it demonstrates that these officials at Worfield and Cratfield transformed from being local managers in the parish to being important agents of the state. However, comparison of the identities of churchwardens and manorial officials reveals that, throughout this transformation, the same individuals continued to hold both manorial and parochial roles. Moreover, qualitative evidence reveals that the powers of churchwardens and manorial officials were combined to meet the same objectives by these individuals, helping them meet their obligations to the lord and the crown. This questions a model of replacement of manor by parish which has been put forward by some early modernists, instead suggesting that the local parochial elite that state formation is often argued to have created was deeply rooted in the governing structure of the medieval manor.