University sport was less developed in Italy than in other European countries in the first decades of the twentieth century. Nevertheless, in April 1922, students from the University of Rome organised a national multi-sport event, which they called the Olimpiadi Universitarie (University Olympic Games). Many eminent figures of the ruling class supported the initiative and thousands of undergraduates participated in the competitions. The Olimpiadi Universitarie also had an important international impact and facilitated the establishment of the International University Games, which were held from 1924 to 1939. The Olimpiadi Universitarie were based on a patriotic-educational concept of sport and played a significant role in spreading physical activities in Italian universities. Additionally, they promoted the idea of sport that in the following years would be accepted by the Fascist regime. The regime developed university sport enormously, but replaced the autonomous initiative of students with control from above.

When we encounter a disagreeing interlocutor in the weighty domains of religion, philosophy, and politics, what is the rational response to the disagreement? I argue that the rational response is to proportion the degree to which you give weight to the opinion of a disagreeing interlocutor to the degree to which you and your interlocutor share relevant beliefs. I begin with Richard Fumerton's three conditions under which we can rationally give no weight to the opinions of a disagreeing peer. I argue that his conditions are incomplete; I propose a fourth condition that maintains that disagreeing interlocutors (whether they are peers or not) need not give weight to each other's opinions when the interlocutors do not share rationally held relevant beliefs. By contrast, when rationally held relevant beliefs are shared, rationality demands that we re-evaluate and even moderate or change beliefs in the face of disagreement. I then defend my condition against two objections. First, I argue that the condition does not entail a coherence theory of justification. Second, I consider the charge that my condition recommends operating within an epistemic bubble.

This article describes the group of ninth-century Zoroastrian philosophers I call the ‘Dēnkard School’ and sketches the way they do philosophy. It presents their argument against substance dualism, which the Zoroastrians argue is in tension with the belief in repentance. From an analysis of this polemic, there follows a reconstruction of the Dēnkard School's own doctrine of the consubstantiality of body and soul. To understand these arguments, I describe some background eschatological and ontological beliefs upheld by the Dēnkard School and their specific conception of substance, which includes the notions of ownership and responsibility. Overall, the argument can be seen as a new position on a traditional problem, and so increasing the scope of philosophy in a more global perspective.

“Your political hegemony ended; your cultural hegemony, too, will end.”1

The late eighteenth and early nineteenth century witnessed a dramatic increase in the number of pauper lunatics being admitted to institutions and many mentally-ill paupers found their way into workhouses. The range of options existing for the admission of paupers, who at the time were described as lunatics or insane, included private madhouses, charitable asylums, public asylums as well as workhouses. Legislation relating to transfer from a workhouse to a one of these other institutions was ambiguous and depended on the concept of dangerousness and whether a workhouse inmate was manageable, rather than the nature of their illness. Because demand exceeded the space available because of overcrowding, workhouses and public asylums continually needed to increase provision by means of converting existing facilities or erecting new buildings. Nevertheless, the transfer of patients between asylums was commonplace and extensive. This article will explore the interface between two urban workhouses in the West Midlands of England and their local asylums from the late eighteenth until the end of the nineteenth century. It will demonstrate that, although local circumstances at any one time may have contributed to decisions on transfer, the overriding difficulty in the correct placement of pauper lunatics throughout the time period was institutional overcrowding, mainly driven by the increasing numbers of pauper lunatics.

The dinner I was invited to was held after the monthly meeting of the Kayseri Chamber of Industry on a pleasant summer night in 2015. The spacious dining hall on the top floor of the chamber headquarters was filled by over a hundred industrialists from large and small companies. Kayseri's nationally celebrated cuisine was lavishly represented on our table. I was in a good mood because I had been looking forward to this opportunity for the previous two years. This meeting, and especially the part closed to the press, would hopefully give me many insights into the relations among the members of the chamber.

Nineteenth-century physicians increasingly favoured leeching – the placing of a live leech onto a patient’s skin to stimulate or limit blood flow – as a cure for numerous ailments. As conviction in their therapeutic properties spread, leech therapy dominated European medicine; France imported over fifty million leeches in one year. Demand soon outpaced supply, spawning a lucrative global trade. Over-collection and farming eventually destroyed leech habitats, wreaked environmental havoc and forced European merchants to seek new supply sources. Vast colonies of leeches were found to inhabit the immense wetlands of the Ottoman Empire, which soon became a major exporter of medicinal leeches. Following the Treaty of Balta Liman (1838), the Ottoman state moved to exert control over the lucrative trade, imposing a tax on leech gathering and contracting with tax-farmers (mültezim) to collect the taxes. British diplomats, merchants and other stakeholders protested the imposition of the tax, as had previously happened with the commodification of wildlife; their pursuit of profit led collectors and farmers to over-gather leeches, with catastrophic consequences. By the end of the century, so great had their worth climbed that the leech population faced extinction. This paper situates medicinal leeches as therapeutic actors of history and adopts an interscale approach in formulating the human-leech interaction. It offers a substantive contribution to the history of medicine, in revealing the centrality of leeches to the rise of modern medicine and global trade, but also by making visible their role in shaping imperial diplomacy and worldwide economic markets.

It was a routine winter night. Men sat gathered at the Café Fuentes, one of the fabled coffee houses in the medina of Tangier. A chilly gust blew up from the port, dispersing the aroma of tea and cannabis in the air. During the colonial days Hotel Fuentes, owned by the famed Spanish painter Antonio Fuentes, was a favored brasserie for high society. As European and American expats departed, Café Fuentes became a gathering spot for local elders, fishermen working in the port, random hawkers, and jobless youth. By the early 2000s, it was drawing West African migrants who had settled in the medina, hoping to try their luck and cross the Straits of Gibraltar to Spain.

The theory that the people of the early modern period slept in well-defined segments of ‘first’ and ‘second’ sleeps has been highly influential in both scholarly literature and mainstream media over the past twenty years. Based on a combination of scientific, anthropological and textual evidence, the segmented sleep theory has been used to illuminate discussions regarding important aspects of early modern nocturnal culture; mainstream media reports, meanwhile, have proposed segmented sleep as a potentially ‘natural’ and healthier alternative to consolidated blocks of sleep. In this article, I re-examine the scientific, anthropological and early modern literary sources behind the segmented sleep theory and ask if the evidence might support other models of early modern sleep that are not characterised by segmentation, while acknowledging that construction of such models is by nature limited and uncertain. I propose a more diverse range of interpretations of early modern texts related to sleep, with important implications for medical and social history and literary scholarship.

The essays in this forum demonstrate how attending to the intricacies of documentary practice provides a way to see legal practices over the long haul. Different materials—for instance, paper and palm leaves—manifested different ways of understanding and doing law. But change from one way of doing law to another is sticky; old practices persist alongside new ones. Appreciating this helps us see past apparent ruptures in ways of living brought about by states and empires as they come and go. By looking closely at the routines and physical materials through which law works, we can look past simple binaries: European vs. indigenous; pre-colonial vs. colonial; resistance vs. accommodation; oral vs. literate; manuscript vs. print; paper vs. palm leaf.