This chapter will examine the state of evidence-based treatment methods in psychiatry. It will show why the rise of evidence-based medicine has been a boon to the specialty.

American morality standards traditionally dictated restrictions on erotica featuring nudity and sex. Early twentieth century pornography only circulated in marginal spaces — brothels and all-male gatherings. But the new Kodak camera fueled amateur pornography, and, despite Hollywood’s self-censorship, adult “exploitation” films grew. In postwar America, pornography emerged from the shadows. Obscenity laws and their enforcement weakened, and Hollywood relaxed its censorship as acceptance of sex imagery grew. Porn bookstores and foreign or “art” films featuring nudity increased in downtown sex districts. Risqué novels, Playboy, and beefcake magazines addressing gay subculture became popular. Sexually explicit films starting with Deep Throat (1972) achieved notoriety and commercial success. By the 1980s, however, urban renewal gentrified porn districts while videotape and cable TV shifted pornography to homes and privacy, increasing pornography’s audience. The Internet merely proliferated at-home pornography. As pornography expanded, so did public opposition in a feminist anti-pornography movement allied with Christian conservatives

Relativistic Approach to ‘Climate Justice’ in the Paris Agreement

The Paris Agreement is the first international climate agreement using the term ‘climate justice’ (13th preambular recital of the Paris Agreement). ‘Justice’ means ‘impartial adjustment of conflicting claims’, ‘conformity to truth, fact, or reason’ (Gove 1986, 1228), ‘morally right and fair’, and ‘fair and reasonable’ (Pearsall and Hanks 2001, 992–993). It refers to the moral foundations of conduct, political institutions, distribution, or minimum standards for individual rights (Beitz 1999, 270). Justice has a strong normative component that persists independently of individual convictions.

The idea of objective criteria that define justice has caused and continues to cause heated debates across disciplines, within and beyond the climate context (Gajevic Sayegh 2018; Murphy 2019, 80–82; Mi et al. 2019). This analysis seeks only to clarify the term ‘climate justice’ in the context of the Paris Agreement, not to review one of the biggest questions of the humanities. Still, it should be complex enough to capture the problem of justice in the broader climate context, covering the substantive (distributional) and procedural dimensions of justice.

The justice theory of Amartya Sen (2009) is well suited to understanding the ‘climate justice’ of the Paris Agreement, even though originally, Sen's approach is based on natural persons, not states. First, like the Paris Agreement, Sen recognizes more than one measure for justice (Sen 2009, 239–241, 272–290, 298, 395). Second, his approach does not depend on a final answer to universal justice questions; Sen rather provides orientation on how to increase justice in situations of incomplete information and uncertain weights of different measures of justice (Sen 2009, 259, 266–267, 398–400).

In the fall of 2015, Christie's auction house staged a special exhibition entitled The Art of Music. The display, comprising eight Cremonese stringed instruments, was accompanied by an extensive program of lectures, art forums, recitals, and an interactive documentary tracing the history of violin-making through the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Consisting of several videos interspersed with blocks of florid text, the documentary featured a section on “Violins in Art,” playing up the strong connection between the violin as a beautiful object and its visual representation in art. Christie's is an auction house; the instruments—four violins and one cello by Antonio Stradivari and three violins by Giuseppe Guarneri del Gesù—were for sale: a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to acquire “objects of near-mystical perfection” with “an extraordinary lineage of owners and players, including Napoleon Bonaparte, Nicolò Paganini, Yehudi Menuhin, and Jacqueline du Pré.” According to the documentary transcript, “the extraordinary and ceaseless innovators” Stradivari and del Gesù “reached a pinnacle of excellence as assured and complex as anything achieved by other great Renaissance masters.”

Bartolomé de las Casas is alive and well today, if not in body, most certainly in spirit. He wears, as usual among his many students and admirers over the past five hundred years, many hats.

Years ago the U.S. historian Lewis Hanke wrote a pathbreaking study of Las Casas, whom he labeled a pioneer in “social justice.” My own colleague David Lantigua and I, in Bartolomé de las Casas and the Defense of Amerindian Rights, labeled him a political philosopher, canon lawyer, and reformer both within and outside the church.

When approached by the publishers for a book on the “iconic” Las Casas, I wondered “which one?” And I quickly deferred to the dictionary for an official meaning of a word which has become popular among scholars today.

Iconic. What exactly does iconic mean? Our handy dandy Merriam Webster's states that it is of, or relating to, or having the characteristics of an icon, widely recognized and well-established, and/or widely known and acknowledged especially for distinctive excellence. The first definition for an icon is a person or thing widely admired, especially for having great influence or significance in a particular sphere.

Was Bartolomé de las Casas iconic? He fits the bill in virtually all instances of iconic, or, to state it simply, is one of the best recognized of all Spaniards in the conquest of the New World, and, secondarily but no less important, widely admired today for what he did with respect to justice, truth, the Christian faith, and equality of all people, to name just a few areas, in the Spanish conquest. And, to be fair here, he was also reviled as a defender of pagans and such a severe critic of his own Spanish nation as to be a traitor to his country.

Introduction

The interactions of human with other species and the natural environment and their appropriation of natural resources are central to any discourses centering on human history. Drawing from this awareness and understanding, scholars across different fields of academic study have attempted to explore the history and dynamics of human relationship with the natural environment. These studies and scholars particularly paid laser-focused attention to Africa's international rivers and the impacts of changing dynamics in the allocation, use, and management of river resources on the environment and climate. Notably, African rivers serve as conspicuous indicators of the environmental and climatic transformations that are occurring throughout the continent; their modified circulation patterns and reduced strength function as a disconcerting caution. As revealed in this chapter, the diverse and substantial evidence of change in these critical waterways emphasizes the severe repercussions that this has on both ecosystems and human societies. This is evident in changes in river flow regimes, reduction in rivers’ sizes and water compositions, eutrophication of rivers, destruction of aquatic habitats, loss of biodiversity, and climate change. Though the carefree use of river resources without concerns for sustainable development is not the only cause of environmental and climatic change, an understanding of the history and dynamics of allocation, use, management, and conservation of river resources is crucial to a full-picture analysis of Africa's environmental history, and the changing environmental and climatic dynamics on the continent.

According to Beinart, environmental history runs in parallel with trends in African history because it shares many well-established Africanist concerns and perspectives about the environment.

The Roman world was a rural world. In this pre-industrial society, the majority of the population – between 70 and 90 per cent – lived in the countryside and was to some degree active in agriculture.1 A large proportion of these rural dwellers had their immediate rural surroundings as their main social and economic frame of reference, with only minimal engagement with cities: they procured necessary supplies and services in local rural centres and sold off any (agricultural) surplus via low- and higher-frequency rural markets and fairs.

Traditionally, investigations of Sir Thomas Malory's adaptation and rewriting of the Arthurian stories he inherited from French and English sources have provided original insights into his Le Morte Darthur. In this chapter I propose to re-examine the literary legacy of Malory's sources in his work, in particular his characterisation of Lancelot and Guenevere. Specifically, I examine his approach to rewriting Arthur's end in the light of historical writing of his day, including the importance granted to ‘fair speech’ and good governance in both highly charged situations in the Morte Darthur, particularly in the last Tale, and the Middle English Brut chronicles. Rather than read fifteenth-century political events into the Morte, I suggest that his writing reflects the political outlook of his generation and, what is more, contributed to the flourishing of English prose at a key juncture in the history of its development.

Malory's Lancelot is usually predominantly considered in terms of his literary legacy as a romance hero, characterised by his impressive chivalric stature and his response to the limitations of courtly love. The literary legacy Guenevere brings to Malory's text, on the other hand, draws on both romance elements from the French tradition and the English chronicle tradition going as far back as Geoffrey of Monmouth. In small but significant ways, Malory presents new facets to Lancelot and Guenevere that enhance their potential to leave a literary legacy as political actors – as opposed to only romance-derived characters, acting in a chivalric world of a golden age in the Morte Darthur.

Following an unhappy year at the Friends Seminary School on 14th Street, I followed my brother's path to the progressive and artistically minded Putney School in Putney, Vermont. In a sense, I had already been influenced by their remarkable music teacher, Norwood Hinkle, through Wally. He had introduced me to Bach's B Minor Mass, Christmas Oratorio, St Matthew Passion, and several cantatas, along with the late quartets of Beethoven, works which we regularly listened to while following the scores. These pieces—particularly the St Matthew Passion and the Beethoven quartets—became personal touchstones for me, and their beauties have never faded.

At Putney, all of the students learned to read music and sang together on Friday nights, and everyone took Music I, in which traditional classical forms were studied and a standard history of Western classical music was outlined. The excellent, enthusiastic, and plain-spoken form summaries of Donald Tovey were read by every Putney student. Norwood was a great musician who poured the intensity and depth of a Szell or Klemperer into conducting his teenage orchestra and chorus, sometimes achieving astonishing results.

With my questionable clarinet playing, I participated in Beethoven's eighth Symphony, Haydn's “The Clock” and Symphony no. 104, Mozart's 40th Symphony, and pieces by Ralph Vaughan Williams, among many other things. I also got to play the piano part in the delightful Concerto Grosso by Ernest Bloch.

Reconciling Ton and Rhythmus

In his 1874 doctoral thesis ‘Ueber Sprache und Vortrag’, Rudolph Genee lamented how theories on declamation had come to be exceedingly close to the laws of Tonkunst. By this he did not mean that declamation had erred in adopting the melodic scale, which would have amounted to a late nineteenth-century revamping of Seckendorff's argument. Instead, Genee reminded his readers that the attention should primarily focus on rhythm, the role of which is to provide the ‘foundation for the two forms of expressions of feelings: the linguistic [sprachliche] and the musical’. Genee's claim benefitted from a retrospective view on the state of declamatory theories as they had been unfolding during the nineteenth century. Perceived along a vocalic and melodic continuum, declamation had started to move away by the 1800s from its more holistic eighteenth-century theorisation, which was still perceptible in the ‘rhythmic song and musical declamation’ that Reichardt had evoked to Goethe (Chapter 3, p. 96). Genee deplored such a move: therefore, by reinviting rhythm into the declamatory debate, he marked a decisive return to Goethe's rule and to eighteenth-century concepts that posited the primacy of rhythm as the first element to have appeared in music, prior to melody, and as the common denominator between music and poetry.

Genee's return to rhythm was even more apparent in that nowhere did his thesis mention any of the early nineteenth-century theorists who had dealt with a melodicised approach to declamation: Kerndorffer, frequently quoted in nineteenth-century treatises, is absent, as is Schocher, who had entered progressive oblivion since the first part of the century. The culprit behind this melodic approach to declamation was the separation between melody and rhythm, which Genee viewed as the ‘two fundamental conditions’ (Grundbedingungen) of poetry and music.