In order to be seen as a full participant in the global system, a person must usually first be recognised as a citizen of a state. In a world in which not every person is a citizen of a state, and in which states exclude people from full membership, this produces contradictions. For example, it means that when a person is locally excluded, this can in fact produce exclusion from recognition as a person in the international system as a whole. This chapter shows how this exclusion can lead to both invisibility and hypervisibility with respect to global governance projects. First, those excluded from citizenship can be rendered invisible in discussions about sustainable development. That is, rather than being merely ‘left behind’, they are in fact ‘left out’ entirely. Meanwhile, the same individuals can be made hypervisible when it comes to migration governance. Policies ostensibly directed at managing migration in fact target people insofar as they do not have the documentary proof that they are eligible for inclusion in a particular state. This means that the work to address the problems associated with statelessness cannot only fall with UNHCR, the agency with a mandate in this area. This work must be done in every area in which this deference to citizenship currently either leaves stateless people out of consideration or makes them targets. Crucially, this work will require the expert participation of people with direct experience of statelessness.

Articles 14 to 18 of the European Convention on Human Rights relate to the scope and exercise of the rights guaranteed. Article 14 establishes the principle of non-discriminatory application, Article 15 allows for the exercise of emergency powers, and Article 17 is intended to prevent abuse of the Convention's freedoms. Article 16 is very short and provides: 'Nothing in Articles 10, 11 and 14 shall be regarded as preventing the High Contracting Parties from imposing restrictions on the political activity of aliens.' Article 18 provides: 'The restrictions permitted under this Convention to the said rights and freedoms shall not be applied for any purpose other than those for which they have been prescribed.' The inclusion of a separate reference to authorised limitations should be thought of as no more than a drafting technique used to indicate. Article 57 of the Convention deals with the important question of reservations.

The chapter questions a central policy norm that key international actors in the area developed to govern the relationship between statelessness and refugeeness. This policy position, which the author terms as the ‘protection hierarchy’, posits that for stateless refugees their refugee-ness should trump their statelessness. This justification is based on the claim that the protection concerns stemming from refugeeness are more immediate and pressing than those stemming from statelessness. This chapter consolidates the growing body of multidisciplinary research to question the justification of the protection hierarchy. Three main themes emerge from this systematic literature review: statelessness and recognition as a refugee; vulnerability, protection and refugee’s statelessness; and statelessness and ‘durable solutions’ for refugees. The chapter discusses how there is a solid empirical foundation which shows that the relationship between statelessness and refugee-ness is impactful, fluid and complex. As such, the claim that the consequences of statelessness can be distinguished, detached, and/or compared to refugeeness, the central premise of the protection hierarchy, is argued to be highly problematic. The chapter then turns to consider the recent tentative moves away from the protection hierarchy in the discourse of key international actors. It concludes by reflecting upon what the future holds for the governance of stateless refugees and the role that evidence-based policy can and must play.

This chapter provides a survey of the landscape of contemporary digital history, with coverage of the way individual research projects have built upon each other. An understanding of what is available and how it can be used is vital to choosing a viable research project, and this chapter covers technologies such as optical character recognition (OCR), handwritten archives, crowdsourcing, big data and web archives. The chapter concludes with discussion of publication broadly conceived, so not simply of the final outputs of a project.

Chapter 6 begins with the murder by police of George Floyd in May 2020, whose last words ‘I can’t breathe’ resonated across the world as people took to the streets to protest against police brutality and racism. This chapter argues that even though the police murder of a Black American citizen on the streets of Minneapolis may seem a far cry from the realm of nuclear politics, George Floyd’s death occurred due to the structural racism that permeates and shapes state institutions, global politics more broadly, and much thinking and policy about nuclear weapons. To illustrate this point the author examines the role of racism, colonialism, and orientalism in the Third Nuclear Age, as evidenced in renewed calls for the United States to test a nuclear weapon for the first time in decades on the eve of the 75th anniversary of the American atomic bombing of Japan. In tracing the linkages between the racism that underpinned the testing of nuclear weapons on indigenous lands and the dropping of the bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, with the racism that led to renewed calls to test nuclear weapons today, the chapter argues that the Third Nuclear Age cannot be understood without an interrogation of colonialism and white supremacy in nuclear politics.

Article 7 is one of the provisions not subject to derogation under Article 15 which is an indication of its importance. However, although Article 7 deals with a fundamental aspect of the principle of legality, it is subject to certain limitations. The scope of Article 7 is limited to the criminal law where judicial legislation is now uncommon. A great many different issues have arisen in relation to Article 8 which can conveniently be considered under the four headings of privacy, family life, home and correspondence. Article 9(1) makes a distinction between the right to freedom of thought, conscience and religion on the one hand, and the manifestation of religion or belief on the other. Freedom of religion includes, as Article 9(1) indicates, freedom to change one's religion, as well as the freedom to teach and practise it.

Old age in America represents the antithesis of American culture because cherished American values (e.g., independence, health, and productivity) become harder to achieve as people grow older. Thus, older Americans are ‘oppressed’ by cultural demands. This chapter explores how they negotiate the gap between the ideal (e.g., being independent) and the real (e.g., needing assistance), drawing on the data from my longitudinal research at a senior center. To discover elders’ strategies, I examine their social exchange and postretirement housing and demonstrate how their endeavour to conform to dominant values ‒ most importantly, independence, egalitarianism, and freedom of choice ‒ motivates and shapes their actions. Paradoxically, elders negotiate the reality within the realm of the very culture that oppresses them. Such seemingly contradictory actions are not only possible but also normal in human experience, because, as Bailey shows us in his works, sociocultural systems do not exist in the abstract but are embodied in people’s lives and shaped through their agency. Consequently, no matter how despotic the systems may seem, leeway always exists even for the most disadvantaged, invoking people’s ingenuity to achieve their goals.

Statelessness’ is both a legal condition and a social label that sets the parameters of policy discussions and influences broader discourses. Both of these can be seen in the case of the Rohingya who have been displaced from their homes in Myanmar. Many Rohingya who are seeking safe return to their homelands feel their identities and their futures are being negatively impacted by the slow and ongoing production of statelessness in Myanmar, as well as by the label ‘stateless’ that frames understandings of their persecution in international discourses. Both the condition and the labelling process can profoundly affect international approaches to securing the futures of such individuals in Myanmar and beyond. The analysis presented in this chapter is based on narrative research with Rohingya in Bangladesh, Malaysia, and India between 2017 and 2019, including focus groups and in-depth interviews with 100 participants. The chapter considers how Rohingya negotiate, resist, and problematise the labelling process. It explores Rohingya narratives relating to their identity documents and citizenship with a focus on how and why they resist the documents, categories, and labels that frame them domestically and internationally as foreign or stateless. It concludes that the category ‘stateless’, for many affected Rohingya, represents a deficit of protection, justice, and restitution. Until the term becomes better endowed with rights and protections, it will remain contested.

This chapter considers the Indian state, which invariably mirrors the behaviour of the individual patriarchal predator rather than taking on the protective role it owes to female, femme and queer citizens. It asks whether the MeToo movement in India sufficiently addressed the role of the state in perpetuating cultures of patriarchal violence against the most vulnerable.

In 1991, just after the re-independence of Estonia, people who had held Soviet citizenship – then rendered stateless – constituted 32% of the population. In 2018, the proportion was 6%, meaning that approximately 77,000 individuals had not naturalised in 28 years. What is more, an additional 18,000 young stateless persons have been born and raised in Estonia in the same period. These people have had (and continue to have) the possibility to acquire Estonian citizenship through the naturalisation process. At the same time, they also have the option of rejecting it and living with an unidentified citizenship. Such a status sets some restrictions (such as lack of free movement within the European Union and lack of voting rights), but does not limit their everyday life to a substantial extent. The aim of this chapter is to explore the motivations of young stateless people in acquiring Estonian citizenship in the face of continued statelessness. Through secondary data analysis, combined with in-depth interviews with stateless young people, findings indicate that citizenship is not simply about a rational pursuit of state rights and benefits, but involves questions about belonging, nationalism, and legitimacy. While there are practical reasons for not acquiring citizenship, the stateless youth in Estonia have experienced overall exclusionary attitudes from the majority population and the state via national policies. Moreover, the citizenship process has proven to be so uncompromising that even people who have gone to Estonian schools, speak Estonian, and are integrated into Estonia have not always managed to naturalise.

What is clear from the #MeToo moment is that the more visible sexual violation becomes, the more contested will be its meanings and implications. Now more than ever, the emotional energy (moral outrage, fear, anger) emitted by accounts of sexual attack gets appropriated for purposes far removed from the primary victims. There is more policing of what rape victims say than the rapes themselves. A dominant response to the greater visibility of victims of sexual attack worldwide is to marginalise victims’ perspectives and appropriate the issue for anti-feminist aims such as imperialist, anti-immigration, racist and xenophobic politics. This chapter focuses on the South African context where the heightened politicisation of sexual violence is most often tied to anxieties around black rule and the sovereignty of the new (nation-)state, instead of being drawn upon to further a feminist agenda of greater gender justice post-apartheid. Thus, typically, the ‘emotional capital’ or energy released by the suffering of rape victims is lifted away from them and their needs and deployed in the service of either racist or anti-racist masculinist-nationalist agendas. The chapter argues that what is needed in this context is to relentlessly centre the actual victim perspectives, of which the great majority are poorer women and children. Furthermore, it will claim that in contemporary South Africa, it is particularly pertinent for the pursuit of gender justice to include in this kind of feminist activism the voices of male prisoner victims of sexual violence.