This short chapter provides a speculative account of what the realm of freedom in associational anarchism entails. Here desires are not ranked in any order in the sense that no reference is made to the collective or individual higher-self. Where uniform procedures emerge, they will be accommodated within the civic sphere of a functional mode of organisation. This social domain is constituted through the cultural and health councils, which are required to work in union with the corresponding education and health guilds. In the process of stabilising a cooperative and complementary relationship with the civic guilds, the civic councils will assume an additional role insofar as they will also maintain the public arenas through which the physical and spiritual pursuits of local populations, the aim-independent ‘ends in themselves’, will take place. Their method of operation is explained through an inquiry into whether Marx’s communism has any role in liberal freedom, which includes a discussion on the contrast between the values of pluralism and monism. The chapter argues that this book’s redirection of Marx’s critique of capital along an associational anarchist path has profound consequences for life in the realm of freedom, which departs radically from how it turns out wherever the realm of necessity is planned and administered through a centralised authority. Certain conjectures are put forward that suggest the realm of freedom will, within its anarchist-sensitive value-pluralism, engender a very different set of values to those typically endorsed in bourgeois society.

From the mid-seventeenth to the mid-eighteenth centuries, the law of neutrality came of age. This was achieved by the growth of a network of bilateral treaties of 'amity and commerce' between the principal European states. Resolution of neutrality issues by means of bilateral treaties was not an invention of the seventeenth century. The most striking feature of the treaty network of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries was its liberality towards neutrals. Neutral ships sometimes attempted to undermine the visit-and-search process in unscrupulous ways. One was by destroying crucial evidence, for example by hastily throwing the ship's papers overboard as a belligerent ship approached. If Britain was gradually emerging as a consistent advocate of broad rights for belligerents, certain other states were moving in the opposite direction. From the 1780s, the effect of British free riding was set to become more apparent, to the particular discomfiture of France, Britain's long-term enemy.

This chapter introduces the wide variety of primary sources that can be fruitful in our investigation of urban space or the built environment. In addition to giving advice about how and where to begin looking for evidence for a research project, this discussion also provides an overview of different categories of source material. These are loosely grouped as: buildings and built environments; archival materials (like inventories, government regulations, contemporary descriptions); visual sources (such as plans, maps and photos); material cultures and oral history interviews. A strong theme across this chapter is the extent to which doing spatial history demands that you use a variety of source types and engage in interdisciplinary research practices.

Throughout the nineteenth century, the code-of-conduct school of thought would have the doctrinal field largely to itself. But it continued to be a broad church, with the split between the deductive wing and the pragmatic line remaining very much in evidence. It was, accordingly, an age of diversity within this framework. More significant, though, was the fact that state practice was pushing the law in the direction of a certain uniformity, with a broad consensus for redressing the juridical 'balance of power' more in favour of the rights of neutrals than of belligerents. The high point of this trend was the adoption of the Declaration of Paris in 1856, when the world definitively resolved that the 'free ships-free goods' principle should become a rule of general law. In the nineteenth century, practice rather than theory continued to play the leading role in the evolution of the law of neutrality generally.

The chapter offers a survey of the debt of the Fletcher canon to Shakespeare’s Roman plays in general and then focuses on Valentinian, Bonduca, The False One, and The Prophetess. Valentinian is in conversation with Julius Caesar. Bonduca is shown to refashion motifs from Cymbeline and Antony and Cleopatra. The False One draws upon both Julius Caesar and Antony and Cleopatra. The discussion of The Prophetess sheds light on Fletcher and Massinger’s appropriation of Julius Caesar and Antony and Cleopatra, particularly as concerns the depiction of Diocletian, who is modelled more after Shakespeare’s Antony than the historical emperor. Fletcher appears to put Shakespeare’s Roman plays on the same level as the accounts of the classical historians, interweaving Shakespeare’s dramatic retellings of Roman history with actual historical accounts. The Shakespearean example seems to direct the choices and decisions of the Fletcherian characters by bestowing on them a kind of prescience of future events. When Fletcher’s Roman plays are considered in the broader context of the King’s Men’s repertory, the possibility arises that the effect of this Shakespearean memory could have been enhanced if the same actors performed different roles in different plays. While Fletcher’s conversation with Shakespeare’s Roman plays spans his entire career, it intensifies in 1619–23, when he seems to have been attracted to previously unpublished plays and when work towards the publication of Shakespeare’s First Folio was under way. The chapter ends by wondering whether Fletcher might have had a role in the First Folio’s preparation

Chapter 4 reads the interest in the archive among artists and art writers in light of the persistent tension between the materiality and immateriality of the archive. Much artistic practice at the turn of the twenty-first century engages with the specifically material connotations of the archive, in ways that mobilise nineteenth-century Romantic views of the archival document as containing traces of the past. This chapter argues that it is no coincidence that the timing of the archival turn in art coincided with the shift from analogue to digital media. The interest in archives is related to the sense that the indexicality – material trace – of analogue photography, established in theories of photography (Walter Benjamin, Susan Sontag, Roland Barthes), was perceived to be under threat from the advent of digital media. The phenomenon of archive art is thus shown to be tied to another pervasive trend among artists in the same time period: artistic engagement with obsolete or soon-to-be obsolete technology. Artworks such as Zoe Leonard’s Analogue (1998–2007) and Joachim Koester’s Message from Andrée (2005) anchor the discussion in specific artistic practices, where these material associations between archive and analogue media are processed.

This chapter outlines the tales of two researchers who finished their fieldwork in less than perfect circumstances. The projects reported on here do not align with more typical accounts of exiting the field. Indeed, they might best be described as having culminated in explosive end points, where a number of ethical incidents erupted and relative chaos and confusion ensued. The first tale focuses on Alexandra’s experiences during her last day of fieldwork, when she was packing her bag to leave the field and a participant disclosed the bullying they were experiencing as a result of participating in the research. The second tale examines Sarah’s forced departure from the field (owing to difficult personal circumstances) at a time when her participants had started to develop a trusting relationship with her and had just started to open up about their own relationships with the subject of the research (relational violence). As well as outlining the difficulties faced by these researchers, and thus troubling notions of smooth or seamless exits, the chapter examines the strategies utilised by these researchers as they attempted to navigate this tricky terrain. As such, the chapter considers the methods lessons learnt in these projects, particularly when dealing with uncertainty and the unexpected as part of ethnographic fieldwork.

Bailey’s models for describing and analyzing sociocultural conflict and contradiction in Tribe, Caste and Nation (1960) influenced work in Yugoslavia and Croatia during two distinct periods of research. The chapter first describes family, gender, and household life in Yugoslavia in the years following Tito’s death. Bailey’s rich understanding of the ways in which people invoke competing, but overlapping models for the ways things should be, and his attention to everyday life, described in case studies, provided an approach that uncovered subtle but meaningful changes in household patterns and in gender roles and relationships. Women learned to use bridge-actions to achieve greater autonomy. The chapter shifts focus to a second period of work, the early 1990s, a period marked by economic and political tensions that eventually led to war. Again, drawing on Bailey as a theoretician and scholar, the chapter describes changes in understandings tied to ethnicity and nationalism at a local level. In both cases, overlapping systems and contradictions among them provided space for shifts in behavior, and ultimately thought, about gender, families, ethnicity, and more.

The disputes about what counts as interference with freedom have a long and varied history. This chapter adds to this mountainous body of literature by contrasting the guild cooperative with the private enterprise economies, both taken in ideal-typical terms. Expositions on the Hayekian and the radical republican conceptions of coercion are provided. The former regards coercion as both interpersonal and intentional, as the arbitrary instrument of someone else’s will, while the latter has a wider understanding in the sense that coercion exists not only within the workplace but also through systemic forms of domination, where it is experienced in unpremeditated ways. Particular attention is paid to the radical republican claim that the forms through which anonymous interdependency is organised in class-divided societies result in a loss of real freedom. Following suit, the chapter argues that as the terms of transactions and the dissemination of productive assets are greatly significant to the meaningful exercise of agency, an adequate conception of freedom needs to incorporate a more extensive account of coercion. The chapter then explains that in the guild system, as there is an egalitarian access to productive resources, and because there are no plutocracies exerting disproportionate control over the means of investment, there is no structural domination as conceived by the radical republicans. This argument is completed by weaving together the anarchist voluntary and free communal service principles through an associational anarchist reading of freedom to do/become and freedom from. Through these sets of social relations, anonymous interdependence is reorganised felicitously.

In 1907, at the Second Hague Peace Conference, was a major effort made to codify the entire law of neutrality. A provision on submarine cables was placed in the Hague Rules on War, barring belligerent occupiers of enemy territory from seizing or destroying cables connecting the occupied territory with a neutral state except in cases of 'absolute necessity'. In December 1911, the House of Lords voted against the draft legislation which would have enabled Britain to ratify both the Hague Convention on Neutrality at Sea and the Declaration of London. That was the death knell of the Declaration as a legally binding instrument. Without Britain's adherence, no other state troubled to ratify it. The Declaration of London, and indeed much of the traditional law of neutrality along with it, was soon to be subjected to a very much greater test.

Chapter 8 covers the tumultuous events of November 2020 to January 2021 – including the US presidential election and the storming of the US Capitol – arguing that there is a democratic deficit at the heart of nuclear weapons policy. Here, the twin forces of populist authoritarianism and the backsliding of democracy create, as the poet Amanda Gorman eloquently put it in her poem at the inauguration of President Biden, ‘a force that would shatter our nation rather than share it’. This chapter argues that authoritarian conspiracy theories that influence populist movements of the modern era pose a serious threat to the planet, especially in states that have leaders with the sole authority to use nuclear weapons. As the storming of the US Capitol made clear, democratic states such as the United States are not immune to instability and violence striking at the heart of state institutions. Beyond this, the author demonstrates how nuclear weapons undermine democracy itself, and shows that the Third Nuclear Age is wrought with exterminist dangers that threaten the social and political fabric of democracy itself.

The European Convention, which protects the right to life in Article 2, deals with liberty and security of person in Article 5. To decide whether someone has been deprived of his rights under Article 5(1) it is necessary to begin by establishing that he has been 'deprived of his liberty'. Article 5(2) requires a person to be informed about the reasons for an arrest and is intended to enable someone who is arrested to admit or deny the alleged offence and make effective use of the judicial safeguards of Articles 5(3) and 5(4). Article 5(4) provides that when a person is deprived of his liberty by arrest or detention he 'shall be entitled to take proceedings by which the lawfulness of his detention shall be decided speedily by a court and his release ordered if the detention is not lawful'.

The first of two chapters on working with text, this chapter covers the difference between plain text formats and proprietary formats, the pattern-matching technique ‘regular expressions’, the command line as an interface for working with large amounts of text, particularly the grep command. All of the examples work on a specific historical text, a Post Office directory for late nineteenth-century London.

A personal story of the violence that is casually meted out to queer people, who seldom gain recognition within discussions of gender-based harm.