During 1969, growing GI dissent intersected with movement outreach and the opening of new coffeehouses to expand civilian/military collaboration. More government leaders publicly supported antiwar activism. The Woodstock festival was the most visible sign of increased overlap between political and cultural dissent. Various elements of the movement coalesced into the most spectacular outpouring of antiwar passion in the nation’s history during the October Moratorium. Repression of the antiwar movement escalated under the Nixon administration. Activists faced local red squads and vigilante attacks on GI coffeehouses, as well as administration threats against the media, conspiracy trials, and intelligence agencies using COINTELPRO and Operation CHAOS. The president’s fear of stimulating additional antiwar sentiment contributed to his decision to keep secret his expansion of the air war into Cambodia. National Security Advisor Henry Kissinger met with various dissenting groups to buy additional time. Once Nixon developed his Vietnamization policy, it forced the movement to adapt to new circumstances, but local grassroots activism and conventional dissent persisted.

After a successful fundraising campaign, the Church of Christ mission was able to purchase two buildings, in Milan and Rome, and expand its operations to Italy’s two main cities as well as other parts of the country. The decision to open a prayer hall in the heart of Rome, in the Prati neighborhood near the prominent Sacro Cuore di Cristo Re parish and just a few minutes from Vatican City, was particularly bold and controversial. The Catholic Church, along with its numerous allies in the Italian government and parliament, reacted harshly, condemning the move as another intolerable provocation. In September 1952, the Ministry of the Interior launched a crackdown on the mission’s activities as well as those of other Protestant groups. Several of the mission’s churches were shut down, and police were dispatched to prevent access to them. As in the “stoning” crisis of 1950, many members of Congress in the United States responded forcefully, viewing and portraying the crackdown as an unacceptable infringement on the fundamental right to religious freedom and a violation of both the 1948 US–Italian bilateral treaty and the Italian constitution.

This chapter exemplifies key areas of regime terror (concentration camps; police and judiciary; forced labor; media control) and their agents (hierarchies in the Reich and occupied territories); explains the scope, transformation and limitations of the terror apparatus after the beginning of the war; discusses the regime’s tendency to combine stoking fear with cooptation/integration; and explains the relevance of postwar legal/political discussions (IMT and beyond) of (German) culpability.

This chapter concerns the situation of Jewish families, focusing on physical and emotional experiences and reflecting on elements of daily life. It emphasizes familial roles, hierarchies, and relations: between spouses, among children, and between children and parents. It tracks the phenomena of family solidarity and family atomization.

Given how common portrayals of vigilantism are in history books, literature, cinema, television, and the popular press, it is surprising how little we know about the public’s attitudes and beliefs about the phenomena. While there is a fair amount of research by historians, political scientists, sociologists, and cultural anthropologists on various forms of vigilantism, only a limited number of psychological studies have explored people’s moral judgments about vigilantism in a controlled and systematic way. Our goal was to build upon the work that has been done by probing people’s moral, legal, and political judgments about what we call “retributive vigilantism” – that is, vigilante acts that are intended to give the deserved suffering to those who have harmed other people.

Indians experience violence at twice the rate of any other racial group in the United States. Violence against Indian women is particularly severe; in fact, Congress stated the rate of violence against Indian women has become an “epidemic.” Aside from its prevalence, violence against Indians is unique because, unlike other racial groups, the majority of crimes committed against Indians are perpetrated by non-Indians. The high rate of crimes against Indians is attributable to Indian country’s peculiar jurisdictional rules. Most notably, tribes cannot prosecute non-Indians. This limitation is not a product of the 1700s or 1800s; rather, it is a result of the Supreme Court’s 1978 decision in Oliphant v. Suquamish Indian Tribe. Oliphant has been widely critiqued in legal scholarship, but it remains the law. Jurisdictional limitations are compounded by Indian country’s geographic isolation, meaning tribes rely on law enforcement agents that are often located more than 100 miles away. Not only are state and federal law enforcement far away; they have little incentive to prioritize Indian country crime. Consequently, criminals have been known to target reservations.

The chapter describes how forms of ill-treatment other than torture have been defined over the last 85 years since they were prohibited in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. The core elements are described of cruel, inhuman, or degrading treatment or punishment are described in turn with the distinctions between these terms and the definition of torture highlighted. The distinct features of other ill-treatment under international humanitarian law are also described.

A victim is most obviously under the effective control of another where he or she has been formally deprived of liberty by the State and the perpetrator is a legal custodian. But a state of powerlessness may also arise in an extra-custodial law enforcement setting in certain circumstances. This chapter explores that dynamic, addressing the regulation of unlawful extra-custodial use of force by the police and other law enforcement officials, first as a manifestation of torture and then, in the more common alternative, as other proscribed ill-treatment.

Drawing upon ethnographic research and an analysis of judgments at the Special Anti-Prostitution Court in Mumbai, Chapter 4 shows how rescued women’s testimony is only one (albeit significant) factor shaping the outcomes of trials against the accused. The chapter illustrates how these trials are primarily shaped by the priorities of Indian law, its interpretation by the police and prosecutors, and the possibilities that requirements for “respectable” witnesses both in the ITPA and in Indian procedural law open up for NGOs. It reveals that anti-trafficking NGOs’ participation in the Special Court is neither entirely dependent on victim-witness testimony, nor on proving sex trafficking. Overall, the chapter shows how evidence and testimony at this Special Court is presented to prove prostitution rather than sex trafficking, and how NGOs, police, and other witnesses participate in what the author refers to as the choreography of these trials. Beyond victim-witness testimony, it examines how the testimony of other prosecution witnesses (police officers, NGO workers, and decoy customers), forms of material evidence (cash, packets of condoms and tissues), and medical reports shape ITPA cases and their outcomes at the Mumbai Special Court.

The US-driven and NGO-mediated prosecutorial approach to address trafficking prioritizes efforts to convict the accused and foregrounds victim-witness testimony as the central piece of evidence to do so. Though training rescued women to testify against alleged traffickers is thus a key component of donor-driven NGOs’ efforts, the author’s ethnographic research revealed that this is a rare occurrence. This chapter explores the multiple and complex reasons why most rescued women don’t testify, by situating them in the broader Indian sociolegal context. In juxtaposition, it tracks the case of a trafficked woman, Sunaina Das, who testified for the prosecution in a New Delhi trial court, to also explore the constellation of factors that lead some women to testify and the challenges they face. It follows Sunaina’s encounters with the Indian criminal justice system and the support she received from both NGOs and Indian legal actors. Finally, it explores how an NGO-led training session for Indian judges impacted her case. Through these contributions, this chapter challenges prevalent assumptions in global anti-trafficking campaigns about the victimhood of Global South sex workers, about criminal justice necessarily benefiting trafficked sex workers, and about the Indian criminal justice system necessarily lacking the ability to address sex trafficking.

This chapter focuses on the police and other law enforcement agencies. Mapping their transformation since the 1979 Revolution, it highlights the tensions and overlapping jurisdictions between different law enforcement agencies and units, arguing that their security mission has expanded alongside their disciplinary and religious morality mission, especially since the disputed 2009 elections. To maintain order, the Islamic Republic has taken several measures, such as the expansion of law enforcement units, the establishment of several special forces for crowd control and anti-riot missions, and heavy investment in the training and equipment of these forces. The police force has also dramatically intensified its ideological programs for the indoctrination of its members and has made changes to recruitment by shifting focus toward more conservative parts of society. Despite some attempts at reform, Iran’s various police forces are not consistently subject to the rule of law, nor are they accountable to elected institutions.