The decline in marine biodiversity and the reasons for it were outlined at the beginning of chapter fifteen. This chapter is concerned with analysing, and assessing the effectiveness of, the large number of treaties and other measures adopted by the international community designed to conserve marine biodiversity. Some of these instruments focus on protecting habitats or conserving particular species, while others seek to do both by taking a more holistic approach. Among the latter examined in this chapter are the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea (including the mining code for the Area being elaborated by the International Seabed Authority), the Convention on Biological Diversity and regional marine environmental treaties. The chapter also looks at the establishment of marine protected areas; other area-based measures, such as the International Maritime Organization’s particularly sensitive sea areas; and the ongoing UN negotiations to develop a legally binding instrument to conserve biodiversity (including marine genetic resources) in areas beyond national jurisdiction. The remainder of the chapter considers treaties to protect habitats (focusing on the Ramsar Wetlands Convention and the UN Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO)’s World Heritage Convention) and to conserve species, especially those concerned with migratory species, cetaceans, sharks and seabirds. The chapter concludes that while there have been some successes, international law has so far failed to conserve marine biodiversity adequately.

Landlocked States, of which there are forty-three, cannot use the sea unless they have the right to grant their nationality to ships and the right to access the sea across the territory of adjoining States. This chapter begins by explaining that the former right has been guaranteed under international law for a century or more. The chapter goes on to explain that under the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea, landlocked States also have the right to exercise the freedoms of the high seas, to engage in activities in the Area and, to a limited degree, to exploit the living resources of the exclusive economic zones of States in the same region. However, a right of transit across adjoining States’ territory to access the sea has proved more problematic. The chapter shows that while such a right is granted under a number of multilateral treaties, including the Convention, it is always subject to qualifications. More robust rights are provided by an array of bilateral and regional agreements. In recent years the international community has focused on non-legal, practical measures to facilitate transit, notably in the Almaty (2003) and Vienna (2014) Programmes of Action.

The major question to answer was the extent to which plague spreading and witchcraft could be safely and accurately amalgamated into a single activity. The primary conclusion of this study is that the conflation is much too simplistic. It is essential to see the behaviour as twofold. First, there is plague spreading as part of a conspiracy. The second variety of plague spreader seems to target people more haphazardly or primarily for personal reasons of grievance and ire or, in an even more dramatic departure from the primary model, to kill animals. In cases of individual plague spreading, the motivation is understood to be demonic and diabolical malice. Most of the accused plague spreaders of 1571 also confessed to Sabbath attendance and consorting with Satan. In that sense, spreading grease was just one of the demonic things they did.

This chapter examines official efforts to regulate and formalise domestic service practices in Zambia, tracing change over time and comparing this case with other southern African nations. Taking colonial labour policies as a starting point, the chapter shows that domestic service practices across the region were regulated and monitored as part of broader efforts to discipline workers, police racial boundaries, and maintain social order. After independence, the Zambian state took a more detached approach towards domestic service than its colonial predecessor and the sector declined as a topic for official concern and intervention. It was only in 2011 that the Zambian state introduced protective legislation for domestic workers. Zambia’s approach contrasted with several other southern African nations where legal protections for domestic workers were introduced following independence and the transition to democracy. The chapter explores the local, regional, and global contexts within which Zambia shifted from a position of disinterest to one of protection, and considers the influence of developments in neighbouring states and at the International Labour Organization. It demonstrates the mixed impacts of protective legislation on domestic workers in Zambia and elsewhere in the region. While labour protections brought about important gains for many domestic workers in relation to wages and working conditions, these laws were often inadequately monitored and enforced. Labour protections also failed to address the particularities and diversity of domestic service, excluding child domestic workers from protection and exacerbating gender and age inequalities within the sector.

The previous two chapters exposed a divergence between messy but tractable ordinary usage of the word ‘privacy’ and an apparently incoherent academic literature. Two views on this are discerned: a narrow view, defended in this book, that the incoherence is down to different academics with diverse perspectives and imperatives; and a wider view, that the academic incoherence is symptomatic of genuine conceptual incoherence. If the latter view is correct, then there will be serious problems translating ideas about privacy into effective policy and regulation.

A neglected area of privacy research is the phenomenology of privacy, what it feels like to an individual to be private or exposed. The relationship between one’s objective (level 2) privacy status, and one’s subjective experience is explored, and the potential illusions explored. Different social situations create different privacy experiences, while some privacy breaches are uninteresting to subjects and not even noticed. The link between privacy and autonomy is explored, and phenomenological considerations are used to suggest that even highly intimate states can be achieved in the absence of privacy, especially if the privacy breaches are phenomenologically null. As another example, successful covert surveillance makes no phenomenological impression by definition, and different aims of surveillance may have different experiential effects on the person under surveillance by design; self-censorship happens when the person is fully aware they are under surveillance, while entrapment requires them to be unaware. Orwell’s 1984 and the panopticon are discussed in this context. Creepiness and the male gaze are other examples of phenomenological effects associated with (lack of) privacy. The chapter concludes with a discussion of the phenomenology of intrusion and voyeurism from the voyeur’s perspective.

The second level of the privacy framework looks at the affordances relevant to privacy of the architecture or structural aspects of an environment. Has it been built to enable or prevent privacy? Is there privacy for subjects as a matter of fact? This includes structural aspects of online, built, personal and social environments. Clothes and buildings provide examples, both concealing and revealing according to design. Bentham’s panopticon is reviewed, a prison environment designed to enable permanent surveillance of prisoners. Many privacy-related architectural aspects have the effect of raising or lowering the costs of a privacy breach. The chapter also considers the phenomenon of obscurity, where access to information, or other types of privacy breaches, are theoretically possible but where the resources required to achieve an intended breach are high and the chances of timely success low. The move from paper files to machine readable and searchable digital files has tended to reduce obscurity.

This chapter outlines the scope of the book and provides the context for the following chapters. It summarises the early development of the law of the sea, before turning to the sources of the modern law of the sea, notably international conventions, customary international law, general principles of international law, judicial decisions and the writings of publicists. Having tracked the codification of the law of the sea prior to the adoption of the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS), the chapter explains the process by which UNCLOS was negotiated, adopted and entered into force, as well as the status of reservations and declarations made by certain States. The relationship of UNCLOS to other treaties and customary international law is then addressed, followed by sections explaining the compliance mechanisms of UNCLOS, the annual cycle of its review, the means by which UNCLOS has been developed, and the notion of UNCLOS as a constitution. The role of international organisations in developing the law of the sea is also outlined. The chapter concludes by providing a helpful and practical summary of materials on the law of the sea.

This chapter demonstrates how coverage of the life cycle in the magazines was typically based on a number of assumptions: that marriage was always desirable or possible; that all women wanted to or could be mothers; and that a husband and wife would stay married. Locating women who deviated, either by virtue of circumstances or out of choice, is challenging. ‘Unmarried’ mothers are the exception, but only because they were often cited as a warning to readers. This chapter focuses on the ‘spinster’ and the widow. These single women were not perceived to pose a threat to the moral fabric of society (in comparison to the ‘unmarried’ mother), and they featured little in the magazines. When they did appear, stereotypes and traditional understandings were typically challenged, and readers were, in places, encouraged to re-evaluate their perceptions. Woman’s Way, for example, put a widow on the cover of the magazine and called for greater rights and recognition of her status. This was not done out of pity, but rather because of the emergence of an organised association of widows who exercised influence. Widows could no longer be ignored. The modern woman, living alone and building her career, was also celebrated in various features. The inclusion of these groups of women in the magazines offered alternatives to the traditional life cycle, providing a further challenge, albeit a subtle one, to the happy-homemaker ideology.

Clive Webb places Enoch Powell in a transatlantic perspective by assessing how he was influenced by, and in turn had an impact on, American politics. He demonstrates how Powell’s notorious “Rivers of Blood” speech of April 1968 owed to fears that the racial disorders affecting the inner cities of the United States could soon sweep across the Atlantic, an anxiety fuelled by the growth of Black Power in Britain. Powell’s reactionary stance on race and immigration consequently attracted the attention of American racists who at a time of increasing political retreat in the fight against black civil rights drew renewed inspiration from his mobilization of grassroots support and impact on electoral politics.