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This chapter engages with another case study, Japan’s anti-monopoly regulation after the 1980s, noting the response of the state to the specific challenges it presented. First, the chapter discloses how anti-monopoly regulation emerged and developed in Japan. The review starts with the establishment of the Fair Trade Commission, Japan (JFTC) in 1947, and pays attention to the period after the Structural Impediments Initiative (SII) between 1989 and 1990. How the core executive actors and structures related to them transformed their power and roles is explored in the following section. This chapter explores how the Japanese state has responded to the challenges of governance in anti-monopoly regulation.
This chapter argues for the rich and varied approaches taken by the aristocracy and gentry in providing for illegitimate children. Insights into the immediate circumstances of the birth are provided in the naming of the bastard child, both in forenames and family names attributed and adopted – suggesting the relative importance of the mistress’s family, anyone involved in fostering the child, and the elite family involved. Considering the later life of the bastard child, the chapter examines evidence for gendered and status differences e.g. in finding marriage partners or in financial provision. One important question is the degree to which these children were able to maintain gentle status. Many were evidently able to sustain the standing of gentlemen and gentlewomen; many males, in particular, proved to be vital supports to their kin, playing a full role in society and politics within and without family networks. Further, bastard offspring of the elite were able to accumulate considerable wealth and power – as in the case of Thomas Egerton, the illegitimate son of Sir Richard Egerton of Ridley who rose to become lord chancellor. The period saw an increasing scope for the careers of illegitimate offspring of the elite, in the law, the church, military service, and other areas.
This chapter draws out Brazilian confusion regarding China by focusing on the economic and political factors at play. Attention is first turned to the basis for the relationship, which grew out of good intentions and optimistic readings of the global system. This 'Southern solidarity' approach has offered some results in the science and technology spheres, but nevertheless coloured Brazilian perceptions of what can be done with China. The chapter maps out how China's surging economic growth contributed to the economic foundations of Brazil's rise to an important position on the global stage. Simultaneous gain and loss are also presented, which examines Brazilian efforts to mobilize Chinese support for global governance reform projects. More chillingly for Brazil's leading agro-industrial business sector, Li Jinzhang noted that a central policy goal of the new administration in Beijing was food security with an ultimate aim of self-sufficiency.
This chapter examines the ways in which ‘racial issues’ migrated from Rhodesia to London through institutional connections between the London School of Economics, the University of London and the University of Rhodesia from the 1950s to 1970s. As Walter Adams was appointed as the new director of LSE from his post as principal of the University College of Rhodesia and Nyasaland in 1967, LSE students were against his appointment to protect what they construed as the most multiracial university in Britain from having a director they regarded as holding reactionary racial views. The students made further demonstrations against Adams’s directorship until 1974. In doing so, their voices became stronger, reflected in the school’s governance and policymaking processes. The continued inflow of returning staff and international students from new Commonwealth countries shaped new communities and cultures at the University of London. These students’ radical activities in Britain helped to highlight and challenge racial issues within British universities and among students. Britain’s 1960s student counterculture was shaped by these colonial networks that brought the colonial empire’s race and decolonisation issues ‘home’. By introducing new postcolonial perspectives on the history of the University of London, this chapter argues the earlier activism of LSE students and student demonstrations at British universities in the late 1960s are a key example of Britain’s afterlives of empire and the predecessor of current movements to ‘decolonise the university’.
The nineteenth century was a significant one in terms of the figure of the female werewolf. In the nineteenth century, at the fin de siècle, female authors began to produce fiction about the female werewolf. Two of the most interesting examples of this, which have been curiously neglected by critics, are Clemence Housman's novella The Werewolf and Rosamund Marriott Watson's poem 'A Ballad of the Were-wolf'. The female werewolf's potential for subversion of societal norms and expectations in any era is considerable, and the female lycanthrope was put to excellent use in this regard by the Victorian authors. The choice of the werewolf in itself could be interpreted as an effort to subvert masculine literary history, given that for thousands of years the female werewolf was non-existent in written fiction.
This chapter transitions away from Arendt and begins to analyse the ethical implications of violent political practices. Throughout the focus is on how a specific form of ethics is produced through contemporary biopolitical regimes and the violent technologies associated with these. The chapter begins by mounting a critique of practical or applied ethics, which is the conception of ethics that dominates contemporary debates over war and armed conflict. It is argued that such a conception not only reduces ethics to technical practice (rendered as code and facilitated through algorithmic operations), but also puts ethics beyond contestation through its reliance on professionalism and ostensibly superior modes of technology. The result is an adiaphorised form of ethics that not only justifies but in many cases also legislates for violent interventions on the basis of a deep techno-biopolitical logic.
Anouk Guiné’s study is set against the background of the civil war between the Communist Party of Peru (PCP), also known as Shining Path (Sendero Luminoso), and the Peruvian state, a conflict that began in 1980 and lasted well into the 1990s. Relying also on interviews with detainees, Guiné engages with the depiction of the massacre that was produced by Maoist convicts. She discusses issues of memory, resistance, resilience and popular imagery.
Postmodernism is usually framed as a Western movement, with theoretical and philosophical roots in Europe. Victoria H. F. Scott’s chapter links artistic postmodernism to the influence of Maoism in the West, specifically through the dissemination and absorption of the content and form of Maoist propaganda. Taking into consideration the broad significance of Mao for art and culture in the West in the second half of the twentieth century, the chapter comes to terms with the material effects of a global propaganda movement which, combined with the remains of a personality cult, currently transcends the traditional political categories of the Left and the Right.
In her afterlives in Japan, Ophelia becomes a woman with supernatural power. In an early twentieth-century novel, Natsume’s Kusamakura (1906), the Ophelia figure resists a supernatural curse. In other mid-century novels, she is a ghost who raises an angry voice against an abusive Hamlet, such as in Kobayashi’s Ophelia’s Literary Remains (1931) and Ooka’s Hamlet’s Diary (1955). In post-modern Japanese pop culture, such as manga and anime, Ophelia is an avenging ghost (Nakata’s Ringue (1998) and The Ring 2 (2008)), a water dragon (Yagi’s Claymore (2007)), a protectress of the tree of life (Oizaki’s Romeo × Juliet (2007)), a sea goddess (Miyazaki’s Ponyo (2008)), a grim reaper (Toboso’s and Shinohara’s Black Butler (manga: 2006–present; anime: 2008-11), an adolescent ghost (Otsuka, Zero: 2014) and backstroke champion who has supernatural power to communicate with animals (Inoue, Ophelia, not yet: 2015). This chapter argues that various transformations of Ophelia in Japan create a critical intervention in Ophelia’s fetishised image as a dedicated lover, beautiful corpse, innocent adolescent and passive victim.
This chapter considers the American Revolution as a moment of imperial partition. It explores how, in the wake of the Revolution, Britons and Americans remained entangled with each other in the hemispheric neighbourhood that they still shared. It also explores how, in a situation where governments were weak, where borders were shifting and ambiguous and where the forces that once bound territories and inhabitants together were often as powerful as the ones that drove them apart, making peace proved to be no simple matter, not least in terms of whose interests it served. The consequences of partition involved Britain remaining as a metropole in new ways, and Britain’s former subjects being condemned to a longer cycle of war and conflict.
Women involved in animal protection were often victims of ancient misogynistic prejudices – notably a belief that women were themselves animalistic, or prone to irrational and excessive ‘sensibility’. Tenderness towards animals might be an attractive feminine trait, suited to acculturation of the young, but it was viewed as a foil rather than as a corrective to normative masculine behaviour. Important thinkers and writers of the late Georgian period such as Catharine Macaulay, Mary Wollstonecraft, Anna Letitia Barbauld and Joanna Baillie attempted to counter these prejudices, reflecting deeply on human–animal relationships, while Margaret Cullen embodied such reflections in the form of a novel, Mornton (1814). At a more didactic level, women were acknowledged as the prime authors of books for children about the need for kindness to animals, many of which became nursery classics reprinted throughout the Victorian period. However, one woman in particular, the anti-slavery campaigner Elizabeth Heyrick, resorted to bold practical action to prevent cruelty to animals. The obstruction and indifference she encountered typified the problems that women experienced when entering the public sphere.
The doctrine that had allowed the East India Company to annex states with empty thrones before 1857 was thereafter abjured by the British government. Among the crowds of political exiles, the ex-monarchs' situation was exceptional, in large part because of their royal status, one that both British monarchists and French republicans still allowed their prisoners. Colonialism, in Europe and conquered territories, embodied a certain type of statecraft in which the government, frequently of a monarchical sort, of one country imposed overrule on another country, commonly one also governed under hereditary principles. Though Europeans addressed those they dethroned with deference and attended solicitously to their needs, the colonisers had reduced the ousted monarchs to captives, prisoners of war or political prisoners, and wards of the state whose fate depended on decisions taken in London or Paris.