The origin and the development of scientific disciplines has been a topic of reflection for several decades. The few extensive case studies support the thesis that scientific disciplines are not monolithic structures but can be characterized by distinct social, organizational and scientific–technical practices. Nonetheless, most disciplinary histories of genetics confine themselves largely to an uncontested account of the content of the discipline or occasionally institutional factors. Little attention is paid to the large number of researchers who, by their joint efforts, ultimately shaped the discipline. We contribute to this aspect of disciplinary historiography by discussing the role of women researchers at the Institute for Heredity Research, founded in 1914 in Berlin under the directorship of Erwin Baur, and the sister of the John Innes Institute at Cambridge. This paper investigates how and why Baur built a highly successful research programme that relied on the efforts of his female staff, whose careers, notably Elisabeth Schiemann's, are also assessed in toto. These women undertook the necessary ‘technoscience’ and in some cases innovative work and helped increase the prestige of the institute and its director. Together they played a pivotal role in the establishment of genetics in Germany. Without them the discipline would have developed much more slowly and along a divergent path.

An idempotent phonological grammar maps phonotactically licit forms faithfully to themselves. This paper establishes tight sufficient conditions for idempotency in (classical) Optimality Theory. Building on Tesar (2013), these conditions are derived in two steps. First, idempotency is shown to follow from a general formal condition on the faithfulness constraints. Second, this condition is shown to hold for a variety of faithfulness constraints which naturally arise within McCarthy & Prince’s (1995) Correspondence Theory of faithfulness. This formal analysis provides an exhaustive toolkit for modeling chain shifts, which have proven recalcitrant to a constraint-based treatment.

David Little has pioneered the study of religion, human rights, and religious freedom during fifty-five years of distinguished scholarly work at Yale, Harvard, Virginia, Georgetown, and the United States Institute of Peace. Starting with his first major book, Religion, Order, and Law: A Study in Pre-Revolutionary England, he has traced cardinal principles like freedom of conscience and free exercise of religion from their earliest formulations in Stoic philosophy and Roman law, through the writings of Augustine, Aquinas, the medieval canonists and scholastics, and their many early modern heirs. Among the latter, he has explored most deeply the contributions of Protestants to the Western understanding of human rights and religious freedom, with special focus on John Calvin, John Locke, Roger Williams, and Reinhold Niebuhr, all of whose ideas he connects to each other and to the broader Western tradition in fresh and inventive ways. He has written astutely on the vexed questions arising under the First Amendment's guarantees of no government establishments of religion and no prohibitions on its free exercise. And he has charted many of the religious sources and dimensions of modern human rights, particularly the fundamental international protections of freedom of thought, conscience, and belief, freedom from religious hatred, incitement, and discrimination, and freedom for religious and cultural self-determination.

“CLS” was an acronym with two very different meanings when I was a fledgling law student some thirty-five years ago. For most, it meant “critical legal studies,” a burgeoning new movement of sundry neo-Marxist jurists and philosophers collectively bent on exposing the fallacies and false equalities of modern law. Many of my first-year law professors were the high priests of this CLS movement. They were making serious waves at the time with their denunciation of much that was considered sound and settled in the law. The best CLS professors taught black letter doctrine—and then shredded it with rhetorical and analytical power. That instruction appealed to my native ethic of semper reformanda—always reforming and working to improve our traditions. Other professors simply taught their pet critical topics, sending us students scrambling to the bookstore in search of study guides that would acquaint us with the legal basics. After a year of such CLS instruction, I could not wait to take the upper-level electives that would no doubt unveil the new and better legal system CLS had in mind. Little was on offer. The “crits,” I soon learned, were better at deconstruction than reconstruction of the law. Not surprisingly, this movement has now faded and fractured into sundry special interest groups.