To open this eceletic book of ideas, we present the key themes and ask the question, Is our education system providing the right opportunities, knowledge and skills to empower children and young people to thrive on planet Earth? Introducing the concept of the series, we explain that there seem to be three existential uncertainties - the climate and environmental crises, fractured communities and insecurities about self and purpose - that require a diverse collection of voices and their ideas to bridge academia with the practitoner wisdom in classrooms.

This chapter considers Doris Lessing’s engagement with utopia, from the Children of Violence series which is set in 1950s–60s London to her near-future ecocatastrophic Mara and Dann novels (1999, 2005). The necessity of utopian hope in Lessing’s novels is set against a seeming disavowal of the possibility of positive systemic change. Utopian possibility in Lessing’s Canopus in Argos series (1979–83), for instance, is driven by cosmic patterns rather than human action. Similarly, her excoriating descriptions of colonial and capitalist life in the Children of Violence series (1952–69) possess an energy that can be considered utopian. However, the apocalyptic strain in many of Lessing’s works renders this utopianism highly ambivalent. In their critique of societal progress or political change at scale, Lessing’s novels often sit at odds with the literary utopian tradition. In Lessing’s works, read alongside American contemporaries such as Ursula Le Guin and Octavia Butler, the prefigurative mode is less concretely utopian. Enclaves of survivors persist, but the texts indicate that political struggle will return with each generation and the same problems recur across history. The chapter concludes that Lessing’s late ecocatastrophic fictions exhibit a stronger utopian impulse, which resonates with twenty-first-century discussions of the climate emergency in the United Kingdom.

This chapter argues that Scottish author Naomi Mitchison’s 1962 novel Memoirs of a Spacewoman is an exemplary critical feminist utopia. Touching on many of the literary utopian genre’s foundational tensions and ambiguities, Mitchison’s novel offers readers a world of freely accessible abortions, inter-racial and multi-gendered parenting, queer and alien sexual practices, and universal child-led education. Despite the obviously utopian contours of this speculative narrative world, however, Mitchison’s narrative uses the utopian society for its backdrop of spacefaring alien adventure. By creating a utopian society, only to leave it behind as her protagonists visits stranger alien worlds, the chapter argues that Mitchison manages to maintain a focus on the utopian missing ‘something’, even whilst depicting a feminist utopia. Rather than arriving at a static utopian locus, Mitchison’s eponymous spacewoman journeys in an ongoing process of utopian searching, in which many of the literary genre’s pleasures and dangers are laid bare. With its focus on a female scientist attempting to avoid the harm historically perpetuated on alien flora and fauna by British colonial scientific institutions, Mitchison’s text reveals the utopian prospect of an anti-colonial feminist science.

This chapter explores Scotland’s relationship with utopia, arguing that this relationship is complicated by Scotland’s perceived peripheral, and potentially oppositional, identity within the United Kingdom. Twentieth-century Scottish fiction has often been reticent to engage with fully developed utopian paradigms, instead focusing on quotidian experience. However, utopian communities are also positioned as an opportunity to look beyond the nation to examine questions of individual and collective desire. The chapter focuses on three main strands of Scottish utopian fiction from the post-war to the present: the unusual emphasis on death and cyclical return in key utopian texts; utopian novels that explore communal life and homosociality; and queer works that employ storytelling as a utopian act. The texts discussed in this chapter reveal that in Scottish literature utopia is not located in some far-off future but, rather, operates within the continuity created by shared narratives of identity, community, and desire. Examining these themes, the chapter concludes that Scottish utopian fiction is more varied than previous accounts have noted.

Chapter 7 describes the fortunes of Mwaura three years on from the original fieldwork. It draws attention to heightened anxieties about social breakdown illuminated by the author’s host family’s own breaking apart, and two deaths – one of a neighbourhood youth, and another of a neighbourhood elder, the same young man’s father. This ethnographic epilogue crystallises key issues brought out throughout the book: male struggles with alcoholism, anxieties about downward social mobility, the damaging effects of family breakdown, and contestation over landed futures.

The conclusion offers a broader look into the role of emotions in alliances and the similarities and differences between Sino-North Korean friendship and other Cold War alliances. It shows how the idea of Sino-North Korean friendship limited emotional freedom in China and North Korea.

In his chapter, Gregory Castle explores the cultural need for heroism expressed by W. B. Yeats and Alice Milligan at a time (the first decade of the twentieth century) when hope for the future was an explicit component of revivalist discourse across the arts and the political spectrum. Yeats’s In the Seven Woods (1903) offers a vision of legendary and contemporary heroism in which love and desire are transformed in a process in which the experience of beauty and its loss, as well as the representation of this experience, become heroic endeavors. In Milligan’s Hero Lays (1908), heroism does not rely on a transposition of love into the context of heroism. Rather, her vision is informed by political activism; her poems mine the ancient legends for a model of heroic action that would be suitable for the nationalist cause of her own time. For both poets, the heroic ethos of the legendary past is sustained as part of the contemporary poet’s bardic responsibility.

The book concludes with sober thoughts on how propagandist language use threatens Indian democracy. One of the primary reasons for the book is to underline the urgency of studying and identifying linguistic trickery. While each chapter does so, the conclusion highlights the consequences of linguistic trickery for Indian Muslims. Academic work on language use such as this has argued for studying not just the language but also what is actually does to people.

Chapter 11 summarises the arguments in the book. It concludes that, although the evidence is incomplete, there is little reason to believe that the severe disfigurement provision is inducing positive attitudinal or behavioural change, nor providing an effective remedy for people discriminated against because of the way they look. It concludes by noting that other social changes may bring this issue into sharper focus, and suggests some ways in which holes in the evidence could be filled.

Reinach understood the specific temporality as an important structural element of law. It requires its own phenomenological assessment, which distinguishes the being of law from that of physical and psychological, but also mathematical objects. For him, however, the foundations of the temporality of law do not lie in consciousness, as in the later phenomenological theory of law, but in the a priori nature of the forms of law themselves. This is reconstructed here for the first time from the scattered fragments of Reinach’s phenomenology of the temporality of law and contrasted with Gerhard Husserl’s theory of law and time, which can draw on his father Edmund’s phenomenology of inner time consciousness and Heidegger’s “Being and Time”. Both make important contributions to a theory of the temporality of law.