While the basic outline of the soteriological narrative of Cyril of Alexandria is a near repeat of Athanasius, Cyril reverses the role that Athanasius had given to physicalism in this narrative. While Athanasius had said that the physicalist (i.e., universal and automatic) transformation of human nature was related to humanity’s ability to receive the Holy Spirt and not connected to the salvation of humans from death, Cyril says the opposite: the physicalist transformation of human nature does not change humanity’s ability to receive the Holy Spirit (which is salvific), but it does save every human being from eternal death (which, in itself, is not salvific). Cyril demonstrates the limitations of physicalism within a theology that also includes the creationist ensoulment model: the physicalist effects of the incarnation are limited to the body. Cyril’s physicalism is part of his nuanced use of the Adam-Christ parallel in which Cyril carefully balances the agency of Adam and Christ.

This chapter crosses the bridge from music industry practice to the analysis of the legal regimes deemed most relevant in securing a fair(er) balance in music contracts in the streaming age. Particular focus lies with the effect of the law on contracts entered into between musicians and record companies and/or music publishers as to individually managed exclusive rights. First, the chapter analyses the role of the legal framework in achieving this book’s policy objective of moving towards a fair(er) balance in the streaming age, fleshing out both the substantive and procedural dimensions of what may be perceived as ‘fair’ in this particular context. It then goes on to provide a typology of the relevant legal regimes, categorising these limitations to parties’ freedom of contract in terms of substantive, geographical and temporal scope and analysing the interplay between them. Finally, the chapter sets out to establish the appropriate level(s) and method(s) of further potential policy initiatives aimed at contributing to the elusive fair balance that this book advocates.

There were only 10 minutes left until the adhan (call to prayer) for Maghrib (evening prayer). The evening twilight had spread across the horizon beyond the sprawling mass of bamboo and tarp shelters carved into the hillsides of southeastern Bangladesh. The sky blazed with hues of orange and red; the fleeting colours of dusk began to fade away on that hot summer evening in August 2017. We – Absar the driver, my research assistants and friends Munni and Zia, and myself – sat in a rusty old Toyota on our way towards Balukhali refugee camp from the nearby Kutupalong camp. Gathering dust along the way, the car was slowed down by passing tomtoms (auto-rickshaws) that weaved in and out of the dirt road as we drove past rows upon rows of tightly packed shelters – their orange and blue tarpaulin tents almost unnoticeable as darkness quietly descended.

We reached Balukhali at 6:30 p.m. as darkness started creeping into the alleyways of the camp. I noticed a group of young boys kicking a limp football in the dusty open space that served as a makeshift parking spot. For these kids, this sandy spot had become their stadium, where they could enter a world of respite and aspiration – if only temporarily – to escape the destitution and bleakness that hung like a cloud over the camps. Another group of children playfully made jokes and began to disperse back towards their homes. While Absar and Zia stayed behind in the car, Munni and I made our way through the city of tents, climbing up small hills up to 30 metres high, past food vendors – often local Bangladeshis from neighbouring villages who had found new economic opportunity from the waves of refugees and non-governmental organizations (NGOs) that had entered their once-pristine locale – closing up shop for the night and groups of men in white panjabis (a traditional pant and shirt outfit) and colourfully checked lungis (a type of sarong in South Asia worn only by men) with white tupis (a rounded skullcap often worn for prayer) on their heads making their way to the makeshift mosques.

Physicalist soteriology is a scholarly category created by the nineteenth-century German liberal Protestants. Because they immediately connected physicalism with heterodoxy, subsequent scholars have – through methodologically untenable approaches – frequently rejected physicalism as a logic that has no historical existence. A review of scholarship on physicalist soteriology – within development of doctrine studies, studies of individual early Christian authors, and deification studies – reveals that physicalist soteriology has been subsumed into other scholarly projects and has rarely been the direct subject of scholarly study. The six major early Christian proponents of physicalist soteriology, namely Athanasius, Hilary of Poitiers, Marius Victorinus, Gregory of Nyssa, Cyril of Alexandria, and Maximus the Confessor, are introduced.

As well as BGT, the other main influence on this book is Oxtoby’s Measure and Category: A Survey of the Analogies between Topological and Measures Spaces (Springer, 1971). For Oxtoby, (Lebesgue) measure is primary, (Baire) category is secondary. Our view, as our title shows, reverses this. The book may thus be regarded as an extended demonstration of the power and wide applicability of the Baire category theorem. Chapter 2 – where we use ‘meagre’ and ‘non-meagre’ for ‘of first (Baire) category’ and ‘of second category’ – proves and discusses several versions of Baire’s (category) theorem: on the line, the intersection of any sequence of dense open sets is dense. We also discuss Baire measurability, and the Baire property. We likewise give a full treatment of the Banach category theorem – a union of any family of meagre open sets is meagre – also used extensively in the book. We discuss countability conditions, and games of Banach–Mazur type. The chapter ends with a discussion of p-spaces (plumed spaces).