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The chapter explores the declaration of contraception as a human right within the United Nations, focusing on key events such as the International Conference on Human Rights in Tehran in 1968. The involvement of transnationally operating NGOs such as the International Planned Parenthood Federation and the Population Council is highlighted. The narrative showcases the shift toward population control as a human right, despite opposition from such entities as the Catholic Church. The chapter delves into the resolutions and debates at the Tehran conference, emphasizing differing perspectives on population control as a human rights issue. It particularly highlights contributions from the opposing blocs in the Cold War and the Communist critique against what Soviet states understood as the fusion of human rights and Neo-Malthusianism. The chapter concludes by discussing a significant transition toward justifying population control programs in terms of human rights rather than just economic necessity, arguing that the fusion of human rights with population control in the 1960s marks a significant turning point in the global discourse on demographic policies and individual rights.
The relationship between states, cities and international organizations is a useful prism to assess broader trends of the development of the international system. Engaging with sub-national actors like cities and their networks adds a level of complexity to the question of how independent an organization is and how it relates to the preferences of its member states. This chapter provides historical context to this current debate. It looks at how a conceivable international role of cities became an issue in the interwar era. In particular, it looks at how the ‘Union Internationale des Villes’, founded in 1913, sought some form of formal recognition from the League of Nations, but also fostered more modest ties with the International Labour Organization (ILO). This historical episode might not equip us with straightforward ‘lessons’ for today. But it might help us to adopt a more nuanced and informed perspective on current debates about international institutional reform and the promise that cities and their associations and networks can play in this regard.
Heat transfer by conduction, convection and radiation are given a brief treatment. The connection with the previous chapter is emphasised since both involve the ‘heat equation’. The application of boundary conditions to the one-dimensional heat dissipation in a slab is presented. This chapter makes contact with Chapter 4 through a discussion of heat transfer across the boundary layer.
Chapter 2 focuses on the extensive decoration of the Camposanto in Pisa, the monumental cemetery adjacent to the cathedral complex. Here the author describes the ceremonies associated with death, burial and remembrance that animated the vast spaces. Unlike previous assumptions of a single program that from the beginning guided the mural decoration, it is proposed here that the wall paintings, completed during three discrete periods, reflected the changing social and religious significance of the Camposanto as a communal burial space open to all classes of Pisans. The murals of the life of the Pisan patron saint Rainerius were begun by Andrea di Buonaiuti (also called Andrea da Firenze) and completed by Antonio Veneziano in 1386. Commisssioned by Pietro Gambacorta, the signore of Pisa, they celebrated Pisa’s identity as a vibrant polity with a venerable history, against the backdrop of a fast-changing political reality.
Chapter 8 observes the emergence of frontier tycoons toward the close of the nineteenth century, carried by a wave of “South Sea Romanticism” in literature and politics, propagated publicly by a pathos of drift and discovery. Fueled by insurgent demands of popular rights in the 1870s, grassroots expansionists claimed a “national right” to adventure and opportunity in the ocean frontier. Petty entrepreneurs of questionable reputation and ambivalent attitudes towards the law “opened” remote isles where state control faded. Others, like the entrepreneur Koga Tatsushirō who appropriated the Senkaku (Diaoyu) islands in 1895, enjoyed governmental backing. Such island colonies were eventually absorbed by the empire’s corporate infrastructure and were refashioned as sandboxes for colonial administration. “Rogue entrepreneurs” meanwhile traveled as far as the Caroline Islands in Micronesia, where one businessman, operating below the government’s radar, eventually facilitated the installation of a Japanese South Seas Protectorate. The chapter argues that the Japanese empire’s modalities of expansion carried the imprint of these experiences.
This chapter argues against an interpretation of scientism according to which science determines the limits of objective thinking. Central to the argument is Kuhn’s distinction between normal and extraordinary science. Understanding science as normal science makes science the plausible basis for an “ism” that delimits what counts as objective thinking because normal science has epistemologically and sociologically attractive features. But understanding science this way undermines the idea that a fundamental part of science, extraordinary science, involves objective thinking. Understanding science in a way that includes extraordinary science vindicates extraordinary science. But science understood this way no longer possesses the attractive epistemological and sociological features which made science understood as normal science the plausible basis of an “ism.” So, science cannot constitute an “ism” that determines the limits of objective thinking without undermining a fundamental aspect of itself. The argument is placed within a larger frame, about how to understand the connection between science and humanism. The view that humanism should take the form of scientism is rejected in favor of a view of humanism that takes the presence of interpretation and criticism as fundamental but that embraces science by finding interpretation and criticism within science itself.
The way in which our understanding of and approaches to Bloomsbury have been changed by feminist and gender scholarship is under discussion in this chapter. In the main, however, it addresses the gender politics of Bloomsbury itself primarily through how Bloomsbury artists engaged with feminism and gender in their creative endeavors and in their personal relationships, and how their gender politics accorded with or diverged from what was happening in the broader public sphere in terms of social movements such as suffrage, and cultural institutions such as marriage. The chapter discusses Virginia Woolf, Vanessa Bell, Lytton Strachey, Dora Carrington, and E. M. Forster, among others. Far from seeking to present a coherent position among the group, this chapter teases out the contradictory and shifting views of various members. It ends by considering the group’s legacy in terms of whether and how Bloomsbury contributed, artistically and politically, to the reorientation of gender in its day, and ours.
G. K. Gilbert is considered one of the founders of modern geomorphology (see Chapter 2). In his 1877 report on the geology of the Henry Mountains of Utah, he wrote that (p. 109).
This chapter covers the problems with current norms in the participants we recruit for psychology experiments, and how to solve some of these problems by taking a Big Data approach. Specifically, many psychology experiments use very restricted and similar samples – such as American college students. However, this sample differs greatly from the global adult population, in many ways described here. The chapter then discusses how we can move toward more representative groups using Big Data, while also highlighting caveats that we will never be able to make a perfect sample, and sometimes we may want to intentionally restrict the people we recruit. The chapter finishes with a look at the big ethical questions surrounding participant recruitment, and discussion on imbalances in the demographics of psychology researchers themselves.