The employer provided everything – wages, housing, post office, parks, canteens. Such a model of the “company town,” where a single corporation dominates in multiple capacities as employer, landlord, service provider, and quasi-regulator over a dwelling area, has endured across borders and time. The term can portray textile mills in eighteenth-century England or coal and steel towns in early twentieth-century America just as fittingly as it does today’s network of “supply chain cities” that span East and Southeast Asia and beyond. This chapter studies Inter-Asia’s supply chain cities – in particular, manufacturing sites in East and Southeast Asia. More than physical spaces, these sites represent a form of legal entrepôt, created by law and capable of shaping laws and norms through diverse pathways, including regulatory fragmentation and coordinated advocacy. In comparison with another gilded-age moment of industrial development – early twentieth-century United States – these modern company towns exemplify the uniqueness of Inter-Asia’s corporate forms, exercise of power, and regional integration.

To carry out its action, the Israeli state must ensure the support of its Western allies and contain criticism from its adversaries or new partners in the Arab world, whose public opinion is highly critical of Israel. To achieve these political objectives, Tel Aviv implemented an unprecedented communication strategy to disseminate its narratives and content to the widest possible audience.

This chapter examines the introduction of new lay participation systems in Asian countries. Focusing on Russia, South Korea, Japan, and Taiwan, I explore the social and political contexts and goals of the policymakers that motivated the incorporation of citizen decision-making into the legal systems of these countries. In each of the four countries, the adoption of new systems of lay participation occurred during periods of political democratization. Those who argued in favor of citizen involvement hoped that it would promote democratic self-governance, create more robust connections between the citizenry and the government, and improve public confidence in the courts. Policymakers drew on the experiences of other countries, including other Asian nations, to develop a distinctive model that incorporated some features of lay participation systems elsewhere, and modified them to suit the specific circumstances of their own countries.

The arguments of this book are intended to tackle the social injustices faced by people living with dementia, yet reflecting on the author’s social position reveals a tension. As the author is not a member of the social group this book concerns, they are engaging in an act of speaking for others: a practice that has received significant criticism, given the risks of contributing to oppression and stigma through misrepresentation. With this concern in mind, this chapter engages in a reflective exercise about the content of the book, highlighting ways in which the author’s social position may have negatively influenced its content and setting out the steps the author has taken to try to address this.

The existence of democratic systems of government threatens the legitimacy of authoritarian regimes. Democracy presents unique opportunities and vulnerabilities, including public debate and free expression, which nefarious actors can exploit by spreading false information. Disinformation can propagate rapidly across social networks and further authoritarian efforts to weaken democracy. This research discusses how Russia and China leverage online disinformation across contexts and exploit democracies’ vulnerabilities to further their goals. We create an analytical framework to map authoritarian influence efforts against democracies: (i) through longer term, ambient disinformation, (ii) during transitions of political power, and (iii) during social and cultural divides. We apply this framework to case studies involving Western democracies and neighboring states of strategic importance. We argue that both China and Russia aim to undermine faith in democratic processes; however, they bring different histories, priorities, and strategies while also learning from each other and leveraging evolving technologies. A primary difference between the countries’ disinformation against democracies is their approach. Russia builds on its longstanding history of propaganda for a more direct, manipulation-driven approach, and China invested heavily in technological innovation more recently for a permeating censorship-driven approach. Acknowledging it is impossible to know disinformation’s full scope and impact given the current information landscape, the growing international ambition and disinformation efforts leveraged by authoritarian regimes are credible threats to democracy globally. For democracies to stay healthy and competitive, their policies and safeguards must champion the free flow of trustworthy information. Resilience against foreign online disinformation is vital to achieving fewer societal divides and a flourishing information environment for democracies during peaceful – and vulnerable – times.

How do the dual trends of increased misinformation in politics and increased socioeconomic inequality contribute to an erosion of trust and confidence in democratic institutions? In an era of massive misinformation, voters bear the burden of separating truth from lies as they determine how they stand on important issue areas and which candidates to support. When candidates engage in misinformation, it uncouples the already weak link among vote intentions, candidate choice, and policy outputs. At the same time, high levels of economic inequality and social stratification may contribute to lower levels of institutional trust, and the correspondingly more insular socioeconomic groups may experience misinformation differently. Social policy, as a policy area intentionally designed to alleviate risk and redistribute resources, thus becomes a special case where the effects of misinformation and socioeconomic inequality may be crosscutting and heightened.

This chapter contends that writing is a practice of taking responsibility for restitution. I focus on works by W. G. Sebald, Alexander Kluge and Heimrad Bäcker. In his last speech before his death, Sebald stated ‘only in literature […] can there be a form of restitution’. I look at the way two of his novels, The Emigrants (1992) and Austerlitz (2001), are literally put together and examine how they correspond to this restitutive obligation. In addition, I examine short stories by Alexander Kluge from 1962 and 2013 and the form of their response to the NS regime. I also show how the concrete poetry of Heimrad Bäcker in his work transcript (1986) demonstrates a writing practice of fragmentation and citation in its confrontation with the NS legal archives. The works in this chapter span three different literary genres and all show a struggle with the persona of the author and the practice of writing – its possibilities and its responsibilities – in the aftermath of the NS regime and the Holocaust.

In both philosophical research and public discourse around dementia, issues of power and social status receive insufficient attention. The Introduction sets out how this book is aimed at filling this gap.

The introduction briefly reviews the growing significance of remote work and then presents the volume’s holistic and interactive approach to studying the impact and regulation of this employment approach. With a rooting in methodological discussions and institutional analysis, this approach assumes that the full impact of remote work can only be understood by identifying and analyzing ways in which different employment forms and their regulation interact with one another in complex ways. Thus, for example, an employee’s work is not only remote or located in the traditional workplace but it is also part time or full time and so forth. Moreover, each of these conditions may be only partial in nature. Not only in empirical reality but also in the regulation of work, types of employment and their regulation interact with one another in ways that the volume identifies, explains and theorizes, opening up new understandings. The introduction then lays out the thematic concerns and main arguments of the chapters authored by a distinguished set of contributors.

Chapter 2 addresses the simplest potential explanation for America’s hostility to the ICC: The US might oppose international justice in general. I show that is not the case. The US has been an ardent supporter of international justice institutions both before and after the ICC’s creation. In the period immediately following World War II, the US played an indispensable role in creating the Nuremberg and Tokyo tribunals that prosecuted political and military elites in Germany and Japan. After the end of the Cold War, the US once again led the way in establishing tribunals to address genocides in Yugoslavia and Rwanda. Even after the ICC’s creation, American support for international justice has remained steadfast. The US has aided several new venues of international justice, devoted significant resources to tracking down wanted war criminals, and elevated international justice issues in its diplomacy. This chapter’s key lesson is that there is something about the ICC – and the ICC alone – that piques the ire of American politicians and policymakers.