This chapter follows Pedro’s trajectory, which goes back and forth across the boundaries that circumscribe São Paulo’s ‘world of crime’. The young man describes violent persecutions, shootings and what he ought to do in many different situations, experiencing both sides of these boundaries. ‘Crime’ appears as a set of normative codes and social practices established primarily at the local level, around markets such as illegal drug trafficking, robbery and theft, yet equally established through family relations, gendered status, and through courage and respect. Based on São Paulo’s peripheries, transformations and Pedro’s narrative, I argue an interpretation of the expansion of ‘crime’ boundaries in recent decades, as well as the patterns of coexistence between crime and other normative legitimacies in the outskirts of the city.

This chapter evaluates the extent to which ideology may now matter more in Irish elections than before. It does so by analysing the relationship between the ideological positions of parties and vote choice, and by developing a dimensional mapping of ideological space based on rankings in the mock ballots. The principal conclusion is that while it may still be the case that ideology does not play a lead role in Irish politics, perhaps now it might be seen at least as ‘a supporting actor’. It remains the case that ideological positioning does not separate the two largest Irish parties, Fine Gael and Fianna Fáil; however, ideology does determine whether someone might vote for either or neither of these parties. On average, Irish voters select parties that are ideologically close to them on a left–right scale, most prominently so for voters on the left of the spectrum where left versus right does matter in their choice between parties. Overall, from a comparative perspective, the Irish case may appear more conventional in terms of left–right competition than is typically assumed; it also has an undercurrent of anti-globalization that is similar to that found in other European states.

This chapter documents a variety of issues which continue to concern victims of crime in Ireland and those working on their behalf. The absence of comprehensive, accurate and reliable data on the experience of victims of crime while engaging with the criminal justice system and support services is raised as a concern. The chapter examines the challenges facing the state in tackling the problem of under-reporting and attrition in this country. It also documents the burden placed on victims and the potential for disillusionment and further trauma through engagement with the system, focusing on the potential to minimise risk through comprehensive training programmes designed to enable front-line workers to provide a sensitive and compassionate service to victims. Innovative policy options adopted in other jurisdictions, including the creation of an Ombudsman for Victims of Crime and measures to unify service provision within the sector, including Witness Care Units, are also explored.

This chapter is divided into three main sections. The first traces economically the emergence of film as a medium in the late nineteenth century, noting its entanglement with many other forms of visual culture (not least the magic lantern). It is also observed that film’s current status as an object of analysis is complicated by digital developments. The second section turns to the emergence of film studies itself, briefly plotting the discipline’s consolidation from patchy beginnings in the first half of the twentieth century. The third section outlines the intentions of this book, summarises its structure and contents, and considers a number of questions readers may have as they begin work in film studies (for example, regarding the specialist, sometimes demanding terminology of film studies or how an increasing engagement with this discipline may affect the immersive experience important to many spectators when watching movies).

This chapter considers the 1915 match-fixing scandal between Manchester United and Liverpool and its impact on the perception of the game and its leading players. It considers the long-range impact of that scandal on the structure of league football. The significance of the match-fixing scandal and player-related issues is that a simple episode, such as the increase in membership of the Football League, is merely one event within a sequence of events at the episodal level and that, as in this case, analysis of each League meeting and an interrogation of evidence reveals a broader series of episodes. In the case of the League’s expansion, this was a transformational cycle containing a series of episodes such as the Liverpool–Manchester United game and the various meetings along the way.

In 2005, the Historical Association published a government-sponsored report, which attacked what it referred to as the 'Hitlerisation' of history. The report's positive reference to what The Spectator called 'Our shameful Nazi fetish', helped to conjure a picture of the mindless anti-German 'patriotism' that characterises elements of British society. This chapter takes a look at the unique fascination that the Nazis has exercised on both academic and popular historiography, along with the allied study of the Holocaust. Christopher R. Browning rejects the 'intentionalist' view that the Holocaust was the fulfilment of a long-term plan formulated by Adolf Hitler in the 1920s, but he has argued that Hitler played a much more direct role in the process leading to the Holocaust. The chapter demonstrates that historiographical issues are intimately connected with political and social developments in the Nazi regime.

Before goth, there was positive punk, a term coined by Richard Cabut. Writing as Richard North for NME, he outlined the foundations of what later soon became known as goth. However, the influences, ideas and aesthetics of this were first developed in fanzines such as Cabut’s Kick. Here he recalls what informed his notion of a ‘positive punk’

The Conclusion provides a balanced overview of the achievements and limitations of Obama’s record on race relations. It hopes to provide readers with important context with which to judge the Obama Administration. By explicitly comparing the performance of the Obama Administration with the Clinton and Bush Administrations at critical junctures in this analysis, it gains perspective on the limitations and possibilities of presidential power in being able to unilaterally address issues of racial inequality. Similarly, the comparative analysis of the presidents’ symbolic behaviour also provides some insight into the extent of President Obama’s importance as a racial figurehead. Finally, by exploring public opinion data on reactions to the Obama Administration, it has the ability to understand black voters on their terms and ascertain what their political desires and expectations are and make distinctions—if necessary and appropriate—between black mass and elite opinion.

One of the abiding controversies that attends The Clash centres on their ‘authenticity’ as a political band. While some recall seeing the band live as a moment that altered their perspective on the world, others have dismissed their politics as posturing framed by a certain cinematic version of outlaw chic. In this chapter, the author leans towards the former, more optimistic reading of The Clash’s cultural politics. The focus here is on the band’s 1982 tour of Australia during which they championed the cause of Aboriginal rights. Each night during their cover of the reggae number ‘Armagideon Time’, the group would segue into an instrumental section during which activist Gary Foley would take the stage and address the predominantly white audience. The attendant media attention for these moments was sparse and it remains difficult to establish whether they had any real political impact. That The Clash were willing to provide a space for the airing of what were at the time controversial views serves to underline that here was a band that, for all their shortcomings, had a genuine concern for the promotion of human rights and global justice.