Chapter 2 considers the introduction of modernist aesthetics in Sweden in the early 1930s in the image communities of marketing and visual art. The main focus is the Stockholm Exhibition held in 1930 in which marketing and advertising played an integral part in the presentation of modern architecture, design and visual art. The exhibition area hosted the first large presentation of modernist visual art in Sweden and was simultanoeusly a decisive event for the introduction of modernist window displays. From the late 1920s and onwards window displays were clearly being influenced by avant-garde modernist art such as cubism, futurism and constructivism. This is evident in the designs themselves but it was also spelled out in professional journals and handbooks. In the commercial context pure marketing rationales and arguments were linked to the modernist aesthetic.The modernist design in window displays was not unique to Sweden around 1930. However, this is an instructive case as the reception of modernist images differed widely between the two image communities. Within marketing aesthetics the Stockholm exhibition marks the breakthrough for modernism. But simultaneously, the art field was very resistant to modernist aesthetics and the Art Concret exhibition proved to be a complete fiasco.

This chapter makes a pragmatic argument for a kind of humanism that is able to respond to the ecological crisis of our age. Rather than having to choose between a humanist or post-humanist approach to addressing global ecological crises, the chapter argues for a pragmatic ‘third way’. Drawing on the thought of Hannah Arendt, John Dewey, William James and Richard Rorty, the chapter identifies six pragmatic propositions to guide social scientists in the pursuit of solutions to the ecological and other crises facing us now.

This chapter sketches out the contours of the logic of counterterrorism and argues that it is informed by a rationalist framework, or ‘the logic of expected consequences’, which reproduces the classical view of sciences. This chapter then shows that this logic transforms cognitive radicalised subjects into behavioural terrorists and creates distance and remoteness between securitisers and securitised subjects. To demonstrate this argument, the idea of remote securitisation is first unpacked, showing how it is achieved through the use of metaphors, euphemisation and the logic of consequences. Finally, the chapter introduces two vantage points to address the problems created by remoteness, one well established and the other more radical, from which the classical view collapses: Pierre Bourdieu’s social and relational ontology and the idea of a Quantum Human.

This chapter analyses the local historical background to the introduction of dispersal in Southall, after education secretary Edward Boyle visited Beaconsfield Primary School on 15 October 1963. In 1960–62, the soaring number of Punjabi Asians in the area caused a great deal of discontent among autochthonous whites, who were afraid that the influx of non-Anglophone pupils would hold back their own children’s education. Some of these campaigned against the looming threat of ‘ghetto schools’ through the Southall Residents Association, which was instrumental in bringing about the ministerial visit at the genesis of schooling dispersal. This chapter also gives a detailed account and analysis of the introduction of dispersal locally, which proved difficult since some white parents were averse to the arrival of Asian children in their own children’s schools.

This chapter examines the poetry and film of Canadian Ismaili Ian Iqbal Rashid. It argues that Rashid’s debut feature film, Touch of Pink (2004), queers the heteronormative genre of the Hollywood romantic comedy while focusing on an underrepresented community, namely the East African Ismaili diaspora in Canada and Britain. The chapter suggests Rashid’s characters are placed at the interstices between Ismaili traditionalism, colonial and postcolonial modernity, and diasporic postmodernity. It begins with an analysis of Stag (2002), a short film resonating with Rashid’s poetry, and its critique of the lingering legacies of colonialism in postcolonial Britain. It also analyses Rashid’s first short film, Surviving Sabu (1997), arguing that it rehearses a building of bridges between two generations of diasporic Muslims. Lastly, it undertakes a reading of Touch of Pink suggesting that it constructs migrant Muslim women as less imperviously traditional than Muslims brought up in the West would want us to believe. It is argues that Alim, the film’s protagonist, needs to outgrow the constraining colonial legacies of Western film, while his white British boyfriend Giles is required to become attuned to the cultural distinctiveness of Alim’s experience as a member of an ethno-religious minority.

This chapter draws attention to a dynamic range of arts-based sanctuary practices emerging across diverse geographies. By explicitly attending to these artful practices, the chapter offers an understanding of sanctuary as more than a sum of government policies and initiatives. More specificallty, the chapter asks: what role do these practices play in constituting and mobilising discourses of sanctuary? The chapter argues that these creative expressions might be collectively understood as ‘sanctuary artivism’. Artivism is politically significant for three key reasons. First, it exposes forms of everyday and ‘slow’ violence often invisiblised through a state-centric lens. Second, by affectively and intimately revealing insidious forms of violence, sanctuary artivism emboldens collective forms of resistance. Finally, sanctuary artivism enacts generative solidarities and modes of citizenship that exceed statist forms of political belonging. Contra a growing body of sanctuary scholarship, the chapter argues that these sanctuary expressions cannot be adequately understood through traditional scales of the city, the nation, or even the planet. Rather, these sanctuary politics are better understood through the register of the ‘global-intimate’. The chapter concludes by calling for a deepened understanding of, and engagement with, the global intimacies of sanctuary artivism as vital components in building more expansive geopolitical imaginations.

Ultras grew out of a politically turbulent time in Italian history: the politics of the piazza were taken into the stadium. While some ultras groups retain some ideologically political outlooks, many consider themselves apolitical. Despite this, many still see themselves as nationalist, reflecting the normalcy of the nation-state. Often these descend into racism as groups assert the desired image of their club, nation or region. Few ultras groups follow explicitly ideological politics of left or right. Yet all groups are engaged in football politics and challenging the increased regulation, restriction and criminalisation of many of their activities. This is collected under the banner of ‘Against Modern Football’, which acts as a unifying element of the ultras style. Consequently, the ultras can be considered one of the largest social movements in the world.

Big data and related methods, typically the purview of data science and data scientists, introduce new possibilities for the generation of official statistics and knowledge of the state. The chapter considers what this means for the future position and authority of national statisticians. Drawing on a collaborative ethnography of European national and international statistical institutes, we examine this as a politics of method where national statisticians position themselves in relation to data scientists to establish their legitimate authority. We suggest that both professional groups are being relationally reconfigured through not only debate, but transnational material-semiotic practices such as experiments, demonstrations and job descriptions. Through the proposed figure of the ‘iStatistician’, we suggest that these practices serve to differentiate national statisticians from data scientists by reinforcing established values and norms for the legitimate production of official statistics.

The last chapter of Part II explores Rolla Selbak’s Three Veils (2011). The religious symbol of the veil is analysed as standing metonymically for the film’s three American Muslim protagonists. The chapter suggests the film depicts the women’s struggles with familial and societal expectations about their Muslim femininity, particularly regarding arranged marriages, rape, domestic violence, and homosexuality. It is argued that the film’s protagonists struggle with inherited ideas of what constitutes a ‘good Muslim’ and Arab girl, as they find themselves grappling with the competing ideologies of American liberalism and Muslim traditionalism. The three girls are constructed as the good, the deviant, and the bad Muslim. Although Selbak tackles controversial topics regarding the American Muslim community, it is argued she does so in an attempt at dealing with real issues assailing Muslim women, yet she depicts an American Muslim community that is gradually becoming more attune to the plights of women. Amira, the homosexual Muslim, and Nikki, the queer Muslim, do not end up together, and Amira becomes a hijab teacher in Jordan, which constitutes Selbak’s admission that allegiance to faith and community can still impede the free expression of homosexual desire.

This chapter explores Sally El Hosaini's My Brother the Devil (2012), after a preliminary analysis of Muslim female homosexuality in her fictional short Henna Night (2009). The chapter suggests that, while focusing on the relationship between two British brothers of Egyptian heritage living in East London, El Hosaini’s narrative interrogates intersecting issues of ethnicity, religion, national identity, gender, and sexual orientation in a manner that disorganises Western expectations about British Muslim youth. The chapter illustrates how the older brother’s same-sex relationship with a French Arab challenges European ethnic absolutism. In the face of the central youth gang’s conjoining of masculinity, violence, and criminality, it is suggested Islam provides competing versions of Muslim masculinity that gradually relinquish violence and prize interpersonal empathy, while resisting Western views on Muslim women as invariably repressed and segregated. Finally, the film’s dealing with queerness, which rejects a Westernised ‘coming out’ narrative arc, is shown as challenging homonationalist models of sexuality prescribing cultural and sexual assimilation to the West’s constructed ‘Other’.