Hipponax’s poetry is muscular, but overwhelmingly negative: squalor, raw sex, poverty, crime, magic, abuse, violence – without political or moral commitment. With minimal traces of respectable verse style, his language is low and marginal: foreign words; prosodic eccentricities; and the harsh choliambic anti-form. Establishment poetry and poets are hardly a major presence (unlike sub-artistic artisans) and seem only to be travestied – as is Olympian religion (except for Hermes, god of thieves). Hipponax’s choliambic metre has a closing limp as point of prominence and abrasive (non-)closure. The contents of the attested limps (unexamined hitherto) are abrasive too. A high proprtion contain: verb-forms denoting physical, often violent, activity; alien exotica (Phrygian, Lydian); the scapegoat; or low, deflating vocabulary like laurē (‘open sewer’). In his relentless negativity, Hipponax is quite unlike other poets of iambos, and equally hard to place within postclassical experience. Two possible analogues: the scholar-poet François Villon, from fifteenth-century France – marginal and transgressive, both morally and stylistically, but also learned and literary – and the black British protest poet, Benjamin Zephaniah, with his British-Jamaican patois and explicit alienation from establishment poetic tradition. Despite its political aspect, the anti-poetry of Zephaniah is more revealing of the rationale, and the cultural-historical situation, of Hipponax.

Chapter 5 begins with a brief overview of the Constitutional Revolution before turning to the role of non-Muslims in the struggle. It begins by exploring the motivations behind religious minorities supporting the revolution. Then it looks at the various ways they contributed – such as providing financial and military assistance, engaging in social initiatives, and establishing cultural institutions like anjomans (associations), schools, and political parties. The chapter highlights the significance of anjomans and explores how transnational networks reinforced the revolutionary cause, with Armenians from the Caucasus and Parsis from India playing especially prominent roles. Finally, it addresses the violence directed at non-Muslims during periods of unrest, underscoring the precariousness of their position even as they participated in the revolutionary movement.

Chapter 3 explores the physical and social boundaries of non-Muslim neighborhoods, which separated them from Muslim communities. It discusses both visible and invisible markers, such as dress codes and regulations activated when residents left these areas. Additional symbols of distinction included language and ritual practices. Non-Muslim schools are examined as institutions that bridged these boundaries, serving as heterotopias that encouraged interaction while enforcing discipline. The chapter also reexamines the idea of the “scapegoat” to analyze episodes of violence, especially during Moharram and Safar, highlighting how minority areas became particularly vulnerable to attack during crises like famine or political unrest.

Political and industrial changes during High Imperialism produced social anxiety. Journalists sought explanatory symbols to narrate these changes in the form of short news messages and photographs. Publicity politicians fulfilled this symbolic function. Journalists used celebrity politicians as ‘communicative anchors’, to which they attached overlapping identities of nationalism, imperialism, and modernism. These personae even embodied industrial progress and a ‘business-like’ politics – novel and transparent compared to traditional secretive politics. The politician as a strong ‘captain of industry of the nation-state’ appealed to anxious audiences. The communicative anchor moored individuals to their imagined community. Communicative anchors formed recognizable reference points people could relate to; as projections, journalists infused these anchors with changing meanings. Journalists used these anchors as protagonists to simplify and narrate the complexity of a changing world order. Journalists invoked the power of images, and both technologically and figuratively it was easier to visualize a story about eccentric politicians than about abstract parliaments or bureaucracies. Path dependency followed: the more journalists used anchors to narrate politics, the more useful these anchors became for continuing stories. Consuming these narratives, citizens ‘participated’ in political meaning-making. The politician’s communicative anchoring peaked around 1900, amidst a pervasive press but before further diffusion of institutional power.

The second political service provided by firms is to supplement the state’s societal control efforts. When public grievances arise over a project, infrastructure, or plant, the state may politicize the associated firms by demanding their assistance in managing social unrest. Firms play two distinct roles in societal control: serving as allies when the state employs suppression strategies against protesters or acting as scapegoats when the state opts for appeasement strategies.

Private firms are more suited to serve as scapegoats, while SOEs, particularly large and powerful ones, are stronger allies. This distinction arises from differences based on ownership and extent of political capital available to firms. Private firms typically have narrower and more limited sources of political capital than SOEs. In sectors where protests become increasingly frequent and intense, suppression strategies often replace appeasement, leading to a decline in the standing of private firms as large SOEs gain dominance.

From May 1915 till the end of 1917, 200 generals commanding the major fighting units and at least 600 senior officers were sacked by Cadorna’s direct order or authorization. Though not only an Italian phenomenon, the degree of that officer purge is puzzling. Cadorna always inflexibly defended his absolutist (pre-modern) handling of the officer cadres: he would weed out any commander rumoured to be weak or cowardly, but likewise anyone who contradicted a superior or voiced doubts as to the certainty of victory, or the infallibility of the Chief. Still more draconian were his disciplinary measures against the troops. Cadorna set out to eliminate three great enemies within his army: the soldiers’ indiscipline and cowardice, indecision by the officers, and leniency by the courts. These he pursued by dint of special tribunals and ordering an extraordinarily high number of executions. ‘Discipline is the spiritual flame of victory’, ran one of his best-known circulars, issued in the first September of the war. And, particularly revealing of the supreme commander’s inflation of the discipline factor: ‘the most disciplined troops win, not the best trained’.

Atonement is a critical component of the cultic system described in Leviticus 1–7 and 16. Purification of sin and thanksgiving offerings shape the worship of Israel. This chapter describes the theology of sacrifice and atonement in Leviticus, the specific offerings, and how atonement has been interpreted by later commentators.

This essay examines the pervasive use of racist humor in Shakespeare’s comedies through stereotypical characters, exoticism, scapegoating, and ethnic slurs. While we may consider the ways in which Shakespeare’s comedies at times question or critique racist attitudes, ultimately the essay encourages readers to acknowledge and to wrestle with the racist language of the plays. The essay offers readers tools with which to identify and analyze racist humor in Shakespeare’s comedies, and to understand the role of racist humor in the social construction of race and the production of stigmatized groups.