The Scottish Highlands and Islands were furthest from London, remote from the trade routes and commerce of the nation, the last region to experience a battle of great military forces. The Highlands present a clear-cut case of emigration as extrusion, of a poor population propelled outwards by force majeure. The Highland story was punctuated by recurring and dramatic episodes of exodus by emigration, but most of the intermittent and sporadic outflow was within Scotland. Even in wartime, emigration from the Highlands continued, usually associated with landlord policies to rationalise their estates, as in the early Clearances in Sutherland in 1806-1807. Famine was a conclusive symptom of land hunger and low productivity, vulnerability and a misshapen community, in the 1840s emigration accelerated, urged on by landlord assistance, pressure and coercion, and the availability of philanthropic, landlord and colonial assisted passages.

Malcolm Lowry’s Under the Volcano places the committed drinker, in the form of ex-Consul Geoffrey Firmin, in the Mexican ‘Day of the Dead’ festival, so that the main character encounters ‘hell’ in physical and spiritual dimensions. The novel is technically innovative in its aim to register the subjective experience of the Existential drinker: Geoffrey Firmin’s world is constructed through a highly individualised, expressionistic symbolism, a mid-century representation of the modern, alienated self, abandoned and suffering despair in a Godless world – the latter made evident by the novel’s attention to the rise of totalitarianism, which forms the backdrop to the events here on a day close to the onset of the Second World War. There is discussion of the novel’s difficulty and form, and a comparison of some aspects of the novel with Kafka’s The Trial, and how these relate to representation of the Existential drinker.

During May 1972, over 100 prominent southern Protestants published an open letter to Ulster Unionists in which they stressed they had 'every opportunity (to) play a full part in the affairs of the community'. They also asserted that in the Republic, 'Protestants hold positions of importance and trust at least in proportion to their fraction of the population'. Some have argued the Northern Irish conflict fostered understanding between Protestants and Catholics in the Republic. In fact, the eruption of violence after 1969 saw the re-emergence of old suspicions and resentments which produced fear and occasionally violence. Though expression of such prejudices was widely condemned, they were reminders of an element in Irish nationalism that never accepted Protestants as truly 'Irish'. Similarly, there were also those Protestants in the Republic who had remained 'loyalist' long after independence and whose politics were also a factor in border areas.

Before he died in 1994 Derek Jarman had achieved distinction in an astonishing number of different activities - as a film director, painter, writer, set designer, gardener, and political activist. He was a true 'Renaissance Man' in the colloquial sense of the word, as well as having a strong and permanent interest in the art, thought, and literature of the Renaissance. His career was unique in many respects and there are no obvious immediate successors to him, but his influence continues to be apparent in a large number of recent films. Like most Englishmen prior to the end of the twentieth century, he elided English with British national identity in a seemingly unproblematic way. Although the tone of Jarman's films is frequently melancholic, the threat which death poses for desire is sometimes modulated by an apparent desire for death.

This chapter reviews UK–Africa engagement since the late 1990s and assesses its drivers, successes and limitations. It looks at the implications of these factors for future policy, especially post-Brexit, and assesses how Africa will fit into emerging UK foreign policy in this new domestic and international policy environment. The chapter draws on policy discussions, fieldwork, and policy and academic publications on UK–Africa relations. It also benefits from ongoing research and engagement on UK Africa policy conducted at Chatham House. The author, Dr Alex Vines, has been Head of Chatham House’s Africa Programme since 2002.

In eighteenth-century England, if a household servant with writing abilities was needed, then it was the cook who was sought after, as Elizabeth Hands' Mrs Domestic points out. This chapter talks about the works of kitchen cooks and maid servants who were also poetical servants. The talents of Stephen Duck, the thresher poet, were thought to have flourished in inverse proportion to his climb up the ladder of patronage. Mary Leapor served in at least two Northamptonshire gentry households during her brief life, producing there a corpus of poetry. Ann Yearsley was not Hannah More's servant, though she had much to do with More's cook and kitchen: her poetry came into More's life through the kitchen door. W. H. Auden noted that satire, like Hands' satire, flourishes in a homogenous society where satirist and audience share the same view as to how normal people can be expected to behave.

This chapter traces the changing iconography of guns within an array of literary texts from the nineteenth century and cinematic texts of the twentieth century. This chapter outlines the shifting emphases within the Western; for though the gun has always been important to the Western, the genre’s representations of gun violence have varied through its history. This chapter argues that the Western’s changing iconographic emphases, from aim to speed, codes violence morally upright and justifiable at different moments within the genre’s long history.

The introduction highlights rarely studied aspects of medical sociability. When physicians gathered in societies to present, discuss, evaluate, publish and celebrate their studies, they followed specific rules and manners. By paying attention to the performative aspect of sociability, it becomes possible to uncover these manners and lay bare their origins in nineteenth-century civil society. Belgium is presented as a case study to this end. The presence of a liberally oriented bourgeoisie in the country’s major cities, the hesitant development of state infrastructure and the slow modernization of universities offered much room for civil engagement in the medical sciences.

Introduces chronicle and places into its historical context. The Hirsau Reform and its role at Petershausen is discussed at length, and a broad overview of the social landscape of Swabia in the central Middle Ages is provided. The manuscript of the chronicle is discussed briefly, and important notes about the translation are provided.

The phenomenology of Alfred Schutz was a major influence on ethnomethodology, and on some other developments in sociology during the 1950s and 60s, notably the work of Cicourel and Berger and Luckmann. The character and reception of Schutz’s work is examined, and it is suggested that there are significant respects in which it has been misinterpreted. The context in which he began his studies is documented, and in particular his relationship to Austrian economics. Schutz’s aim was to resolve a problem that had been at the heart of this economic tradition: the grounding of its basic theoretical principles. And he identified much the same gap in the interpretive sociology of Max Weber. Schutz drew on the work of Bergson and Husserl in an attempt to clarify the nature of the lifeworld that underpins social and economic action. Two key questions are addressed here: whether his work served as a fundamental challenge to the positivism of the dominant sociological tradition in the 1960s; and whether Schutz regarded his work as part of social science or of philosophy, and therefore whether he was, in fact, aiming to build a phenomenological sociology, as seems to have been assumed by Garfinkel and many others.

This chapter introduces the study of the law of armed conflict by considering the nature and legality of war. The treatment of Napoleon served as a precedent for the policy adopted by the principal Allied and Associated Powers at the end of World War I when considering the treatment to be accorded to those responsible as authors of that war. A more definite attempt to render the war illegal is to be found in the Covenant of the League of Nations. The United States was not a member of the League, but by virtue of being among the victors in 1918 was an important power whose views could not be ignored. In 1946 the General Assembly at its first session adopted a resolution affirming 'the principles of international law recognised by the Charter of the Nuremberg Tribunal and the judgment of the Tribunal'.

Melanie Klein, unlike other psychoanalysts, makes no distinction between introjection and incorporation. The infant incorporates, introjects, what it perceives as the mother's qualities, which become therefore inner objects, good and bad, within the self, as it projects bad and good objects on to the mother. The Fort! Da! game is essential material for Klein. The child in Klein alternates between the paranoid-schizoid and the depressive positions. Klein's point about 'projection' is that it involves the child splitting itself, so that the good, or the bad parts are separated from the self, and go into the other: it is a schizoid position. The interest in different forms of creativity associates with the relationship between Klein and 'object relations' psychoanalysts: Fairbairn, already mentioned, whose work was particularly taken up by Harry Guntrip, and Donald Winnicott, whose work was adopted by Masud Khan.

This chapter explores how Russian data scientists learn and are taught technical skills. In the Moscow data science community, well-developed mathematical skills are almost universally treated as a given: a fundamental bedrock of established knowledge, upon which the specific methodological skills proper to data science can be scaffolded in the classroom and workplace. Beyond these concrete techniques, however, Russian data scientists are expected to cultivate more ephemeral forms of abstraction and judgement, which requires concrete experience developing applied research projects. This cultivation of technical skill is part of a broad commitment to lifelong learning shared by both academic and industrial researchers, and is allied to a widespread understanding of professional data scientists as constitutionally flexible workers. Rather than the product of a precarious labour market, however, I argue that my informants’ twin commitments to flexibility and lifelong learning are inextricable from their scientific and intellectual ethos.

Language of virtue and vice, such as that used by nineteenth-century German historians, offers a glimpse on an often neglected aspect of historical studies – that of dispositions, character traits or virtues deemed necessary for pursuit of historical inquiry. The chapter shows that often-used phrases like ‘the first virtues of the historian’ invoked hierarchical constellations of virtues corresponding to distinct conceptions of the historian’s vocation, which may be called scholarly personae. From this it follows that personae can be historicized: they need not be seen as a modern conceptual tool, but as modern names for schematic models of virtue that nineteenth-century historians themselves already invoked. The chapter also argues that such personae tended to be associated with outstanding historians and often came in contrastive pairs: Schlosser vs Ranke, Waitz vs Sybel and Treitschke vs Lamprecht. What these examples also illustrate is that pairs of personae could change over time, in step with changing debates over the historian’s vocation and the virtues it demanded.