This chapter measures the robustness of sixteen lobbying regulations using four existing indices of robustness and assesses each measurement’s validity and reliability. By robustness we mean how much transparency and accountability a lobbying law guarantees. This allows us to evaluate which of the existing indices ‘best’ measures a regulation’s robustness. Based on the results we develop three theoretical classifications of robustness for states that have lobbying legislation as discussed in Chapters 2, 3 and 4: low-robustness systems, medium-robustness systems and high-robustness systems. We consider how each of the political systems studied in Chapters 2, 3 and 4 falls within the different regulatory environments.

This part explores how early television dealt with representations of antiquity and the significant differences in the structural framework between the commercial broadcasting system in the US and the dominance of public broadcasting in the UK and elsewhere in Europe. It also argues that, while specific shows dealing with antiquity were rare, many other shows, especially science fiction, contained episodes set in the ancient world. The two case studies that feature in this part, ITV’s The Caesars and RAI’s Odissea/The Odyssey (both 1968), offer examples of two very different approaches to TV antiquity as well as diversity of aesthetic styles. In addition to the case studies, the introduction to this part also discusses the BBC’s remarkable six-part series The Spread of the Eagle (1963), and a number of other shows featuring ancient world episodes.

Current ontological critiques point to how discoursesof diversity like multiculturalism help domesticatedifference by making it fit into predeterminedcategories, such as those we are accustomed tothinking of as cultures. These ways of conceivingrelations within and between groups of people –common to anthropology and museums, as well as toliberal democratic regimes of governance – assertthat differences between peoples are relativelysuperficial in that our cultures overlay afundamental and universal sameness. Museumsshowcasing cultural artefacts have thus helpeddomesticate difference by promoting world-makingvisions of (natural) unity in (cultural) diversity.Yet some artefacts exceed the categories designed tocontain them; they oblige thought and handlingbeyond the usual requirements of curatorialpractice. This chapter considers the challenges of‘curating the uncommons’ in relation to work carriedout by and with the Māori tribal arts managementgroup Toi Hauiti and their ancestor figure, Paikea,at the American Museum of Natural History in NewYork.

Although I am a strong advocate for access tocollections in museums and although I see newtechnologies as a necessary part of this goal, I donot think that technology and its associated impactsand benefits should be the end goal. Rather, theyshould exist collaboratively with physical museumsthat mirror the robust developments in digitaltechnology. The physical museum needs to betransformed so that their material collections canstimulate cultural production by living artists andcultural practitioners. This juxtaposition of thepast and the present, the dead and the living,ensures that museums remain vibrant and vital spacesfor the multicultural communities around them.

The introduction provides a brief overview of Garrel’s life and career, and a review of some of the key literature published on him. It argues for the need to provide a more nuanced analysis of his relationship with the New Wave and for a careful consideration of the director’s relationship with the political and artistic climate fostered by May 68. It also proposes to consider Garrel’s work in light of its intersection with other avant-gardes. The Introduction provides a summary of various chapters in the study.

This chapter explores the extent of bastardy among the nobility and gentry, using a variety of sources, especially wills, property transactions and court records. It compares numbers of births and rates of bastardy among the elite with overall and non-elite bastardy rates, suggesting that although there are some correlations with levels of bastard-bearing among the poor, the peaks of activity in the mid-sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries do not correlate clearly. There are also clear regional and sub-regional variations to be observed, in particular of north versus south, and within the north in the north west and far north east, although any attempt to see the developments of the period as producing a clear distinction between a bastard-prone north and west, and a non-bastard-prone south and east is not supported by the evidence.

Emily Wingfield’s chapter examines treatments of Queen Margaret of Scotland (d. 1093), beginning with the Life written by Turgot, prior of Durham, at the request of Margaret’s daughter the English queen Matilda, a work that highlights Margaret’s literacy and learning; Margaret’s role as reader and writer is shown to be emphasised also in later treatments. The subject of this chapter is thus not a branch of knowledge but the perceived learning of an important female individual and the significance of that learning in constructions of her as a saint. The chapter examines the way in which books function as vehicles for Margaret’s sanctity and political power and suggests that the Life itself is designed to model the life of a learned and holy queen for Margaret’s daughter, Matilda. Wingfield then considers how later verbal and visual accounts of Margaret develop this tradition so that she comes to function as an advisor of princes as well as princesses, her sanctity being shown to inhere ‘quite specifically, in her literacy’.

In this chapter Denis Renevey examines the ways in which writers in the Greek world and, later, western religious teachers used the name of ‘Jesus’ in contemplative practices, and offers ‘answers as to the way in which knowledge of the power of the name “Jesus” was appropriated for different purposes in the two differing Christian traditions, and according to distinct spiritual ideologies’. Renevey discusses the influence of Origen in the development of knowledge about the powerful potential of the name of Jesus and goes on to highlight the attachment to the name in Orthodox liturgical practice from about the ninth century, an attachment that in the fervency of its language anticipates western traditions of affectivity. Among western writers, Renevey focuses on Anselm of Canterbury and Bernard of Clairvaux, the former promoting affective use of the name in personal devotion, the latter in a communal monastic context, as part of a well-conceived devotional scheme.

A key – some might even say the key – curatorial roleis to decide what to collect. What, that is, shouldbe preserved for the future? In this chapter, wepresent ethnographic research with curators ofcontemporary everyday life. As we show, thesecurators struggle with a profusion of things,stories and information that could potentially becollected. Moreover, they widely report the struggleto be intensifying. Exploring their perceptions andwhat these mean in practice in their work, we arguethat while neo-liberal and especially austeritypolitics has an important role in intensifying theirsense of anxiety, their experience cannot be reducedto this. On the contrary, their intimation ofdystopia is as much a function of other – in someways utopian – aspirations and politics, as well asof a relativisation of value. These all contributeto transforming the nature of curatorship morewidely.