This chapter turns to the Journal's structuring focus on Fox's journeys, and raises questions about the movement's commitment to an itinerant ministry and the ways in which, in Edward Burrough's words, ‘The worship of God in itself … is a walking with God’. While an itinerant Christian proselytising ministry was as old as the journeys of St Paul, there was none the less something unusual about the Quaker commitment to such a practice – unusual in that no other radical religious groups at the time made physical travail such a cornerstone of their modus Vivendi, but unusual too in that such restlessness sits strangely with a faith premised on the silent stillness of the meeting for worship. The chapter argues, however, that the itinerancy of Fox and other early Friends, as memorialised in the Journal, becomes itself a means of demonstrating the ceaseless presence of the indwelling Christ.

The Quakers were the only organised body of Christians in Manchester to take collective measures for the rescue of the victims of Nazism. Individuals of the Christian faith—Methodists, Congregationalists and Unitarians—were to be found in refugee support organisations and amongst the advocates of tolerance towards refugees, but the branches of Christianity to which they belonged engaged in no concerted action on the refugees' behalf. For the Roman Catholic Church in the Salford Diocese, it was a matter of principle. Whatever the feelings of their congregants, the hierarchy of the Church in Salford was disinclined to put itself out in the rescue of refugees, particularly those of Jewish origin. The response of the Roman Catholic Church to refugees was particularly shaped by the Church's response to the rise of Fascism.

This chapter covers offences of violence, with the concept of violence encompassing both physical aggression (here termed ‘contact assaults’) and threatening behaviour (‘non-contact assaults’). The latter category includes stalking, intimidation and harassment, offending behaviours that have gained increasing social prominence and recognition by the criminal law in recent decades. Following this, the chapter turns to consideration of domestic violence, the response to which comprises a mixture of substantive and procedural law, and violence against children.Aside from the important common law principles of assault and battery, the offences under consideration here are primarily statutory and are largely, though not exclusively, contained in the states’ Crimes Acts (Crimes Act 1900 (NSW), Crimes Act 1900 (ACT), Criminal Law Consolidation Act 1935 (SA), and Crimes Act 1958 (Vic)). The title of this chapter reflects the enduring use and influence of common law assault as the base offence of violence and an underpinning concept in many offences of personal violence and other forms of unlawful intimidatory and threatening behaviour.

This chapter examines the radicalisation of the Labour Party's foreign and defence policy in the 1980s with the détente and the deepening of the Cold War. During this time, foreign and defence policy became a political battleground when the Conservative Party moved to the right while Labour to the left. Though Labour's shift to the left on foreign and defence policy did the party immense harm electorally, it left the party better prepared to deal with the immense changes in the international system at the turn of the 1990s, with the end of the Cold War. Labour was well placed to accept the new tenets of globalisation in the 1990s and to deal with the rise in transnational issues that was a concomitant part of international relations at the end of the twentieth century.

This chapter first sets out the purpose of the book, which is to reflect on the nature of local studies and explore the key question raised by Felix Driver and Raphael Samuel of whether it is ‘possible to maintain a sense of the uniqueness of localities, and the singularity of our attachments to them, without falling prey to introverted (and ultimately exclusionary) visions of the essence or spirit of places’? It then discusses ‘local’ and minority studies; ‘race’, community and local studies; and the evolution of Cornish studies.

This chapter compares and contrasts the 1973 and 1998 Agreements that, on the face of it, are remarkably similar: both involve power-sharing and an institutional link between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland. The phrase ‘Sunningdale for slow learners’, attributed to Seamus Mallon, masks a misunderstanding of the fundamental differences between the two Agreements. The former Agreement looked to establish a Council of Ireland with executive powers that had the potential to evolve into an embryonic all-Ireland government; the latter Agreement established a consultative North-South Ministerial Council with no executive powers that could not evolve into a united Ireland by incremental moves. This was the key to Unionist acceptance of the Good Friday Agreement (GFA) in comparison to Unionist rejection of the Sunningdale Agreement. In constitutional terms the GFA was a Unionist settlement that secured Northern Ireland’s position within the United Kingdom, recognised British sovereignty in Northern Ireland and established that a united Ireland could only be achieved on the basis of the principle of consent. In contrast the Sunningdale Agreement was, in constitutional terms, a Nationalist settlement that did not recognise Northern Ireland was part of the UK and attempted to bypass the principle of consent by establishing powerful North-South bodies. The chapter argues that the only thing the two Agreements has in common was a power-sharing element for the government of Northern Ireland.

This chapter focuses on the seventeenth-century Quaker presence in transatlantic English colonies in the Caribbean and North America. Its starting point is a puzzling discrepancy between Quaker accounts of visits to Barbados and those to the American mainland: while the latter are detailed, complex and recognisably constructed around the same kinds of oppositions and alliances as are to be found in the accounts of English journeys, the former are short, general and often bland. Why, when the terrain, the social structures and the cultures must have been equally strange to visiting Friends, was there such a disparity of textual engagement? An answer is found in the ambivalent Quaker response to the Barbadian slave-owning economy, in which Friends themselves actively participated. While the commitment to spiritual equality was advocated as strongly as ever, there was, equally, a commitment to the status quo of the social order. Rather than the inward light dissolving the boundary between the social and the spiritual – such that the one is read as a dimension of the other, linked through the frequently reiterated assertion that God is no ‘respecter of persons’ (see Acts 10.34; Romans 2.11; Ephesians 6.9), as was more typically the case – here instead the assertion of spiritual equality is maintained separately from the upholding of a system manifestly dependent on an absolute ‘respect of’ or distinction between, persons. It is argued, therefore, that the capacity of the early Quaker conception of the inward light to dissolve boundaries and fuse categories here met an unusual and unwonted limit, with the result that the seamlessly continuous culture of the early Friends faltered in its unerringly inclusive remit.

This chapter investigates the ways in which sex was examined in early case histories. Anna Barbara Meier decided to disclose himself to his physician because he wanted to marry the woman he had made pregnant ‘out of genuine affection’. Meier's disclosure consisted merely of his own words describing his sex. As Meier wanted to reassign her sex and get married, she had to overcome her deep shame at exposing her genitals because this was ordered by the court. It further explores how sex and sexual function were assessed during Meier's subsequent examinations. The hermaphrodite's sexual feelings were examined in a very concrete, physical way. During the first half of the century, visual inspection combined with superficial palpation, simple penetration and interrogation of the hermaphrodite were the main examination techniques. Central to a physician's enquiry was the question of how (in which role) a person could function in procreation.

The 2006 Irish Census identified a population of 4,239,848 persons. Of the ‘usually resident’ population, 610,000 (14.7 percent) were born outside the Republic of Ireland. Of these, approximately 10 percent were ‘non-Irish nationals’. Just more than 10 percent of children in Ireland in 2006 were born in other countries such as England and Wales, United States, Poland, Lithuania, and other European Union countries. Some 7.4 percent of identified children living in the Republic of Ireland do not have Irish citizenship. The British experience indicates that racism, discrimination, and other barriers to integration are experienced differently and with different consequences by different groups. This can be translated, in the Irish case, into a hypothesis that Chinese, Polish, Lithuanian or Nigerian immigrants will experience different opportunities for and barriers to integration. Asylum seekers comprised a major strand of immigration. Comprehensively disaggregated data can serve to explode myths, such as those about ghettos considered in this chapter, as well as provide an evidence base to address actual risks of social exclusion amongst immigrants, particularly those who settle in disadvantaged areas.

Contemporary attempts to bring 'meaningfulness' to democracy through the use of mechanisms such as 'cultural rights' often distort the original intent of democracy. In John Locke's case, the cultural attempts was primarily to limit the concentration of political power. Modern romanticism is a response to the more contemporary manifestation of epistemological relativism. But the German Romantics, tellingly, were not democrats, and did not have to worry about how to fit their ideas within a democratic framework. The current romanticization of democracy is closely tied to the development of the concept of autonomy. The best form of democracy for a globalized world is thus one in which clear and impartial institutions permit individuals enough room to sort out subjective issues like 'meaningfulness' in their own way. A more familiar justification for sovereignty rests solely upon domestic political relations, specifically the consent of the governed.

Maternity and child welfare provided the pretext for debate on issues quite apart from mothers and children, which related to the deep-seated fears regarding the power lines in Irish society. The tradition of preventive public health care in Ireland, however ad hoc, dated back to the first half of the nineteenth century. In 1925, the Department of Local Government and Public Health viewed the lack of definition of 'poor persons' in the 1851 act as an advantage because it allowed a 'liberal interpretation'. The impact of war served to focus attention on infant mortality, which was considered an indicator both of national vitality and of the weaknesses in public health policy. In Britain, this awareness led to a series of investigative committees and reports, including the Inter-Departmental Committee on Physical Deterioration in 1904, the National Conference of Infant Mortality in 1906 and the Departmental Committee on Maternal Mortality in 1928.

In autumn 1688 William of Orange, the Dutch stadholder (a title bestowed on the rulers of the Dutch Republic), issued a declaration stating his reasons for leading a fleet from the Netherlands to England. Gilbert Burnet was one of the most prominent defenders of William's invasion. Gilbert Burnet had apparently approached Aphra Behn, and asked her to pen an ode in praise of William of Orange. Elkanah Settle's 'Britain's Address to the Prince of Orange' carefully articulates that loyalist sentiment, while Aphra Behn's ode to Gilbert Burnet also resists being corralled into a defence of the Dutch ruler. Dryden's silence, and the reversal of his political and poetic fortunes, was a cause for gleeful satire from Williamite poets. In The Address of John Dryden, Thomas Shadwell mimics Dryden's voice and depicts the former laureate as willing to abandon James II.