The second juan of the Array of the Five Talismans (Taishang lingbao wufuxu 太上靈寶五符序 DZ 388; hereafter Array), consisting of dozens of medicinal recipes, presents us with numerous textual problems. This chapter will only be able to touch upon a few issues. In her 2011 study of the second juan of the Array, Ikehira Noriko 池平紀子 primarily used Dunhuang manuscript S.2438, the Yunji qiqian 雲笈七籤 DZ 1032 (hereafter YJQQ), and Methods for Abstaining from Grains from the Scripture of Great Purity (Taiqingjing duangu fa 太清經斷穀法 DZ 846) to compare textual variants of recipes. While she examines multiple sources and variants, Ikehira’s stimulating discussion centers on Buddho-Daoist interaction. This essay builds upon her work.

The discussion of textual variants is not merely a philological exercise to determine the correct, or best, reading of a text. The very existence of different textual recensions forces us to recognize the materiality of texts in medieval China as hand copied manuscripts circulated among initiates and within lineages of practitioners, and only sometimes available to more public view. Single recipes, or collections of recipes, circulated independently of the texts in which we find them today, and were often copied and reformulated within different compilations.

A. The Basic Textual Sources

I begin my examination with textual criticism in order to obtain a definitive version of the Array. The first step in this process is to ascertain the correct words of the text. These two tasks are very difficult. While the Zhonghua daozang edition has only one instance of emended textual criticism of the Array, I believe there are several tens of instances where textual criticism is needed, but I am currently unable to fully emend the entire text. While I still have doubts about certain passages, I have no evidentiary basis for emending them.

‘In the first place it is instructive to ask how a poet could meet the challenge of representing the population of a city on stage; in the second, this exercise is likely to shed light on the political function of Greek tragedy. More specifically it will shed light on the relationship between tragedy and democracy ? a vexed question in recent years ? for no consideration of democracy in drama can neglect the role of democracy’s central player.’ The issue of having a fully–fledged democratic system in Hong Kong goes close to the heart of the whole Hong Kong issue today.

It is sometimes said that the statist and aristocratic traditions of Europerender its political institutions less democratic than those of the UnitedStates. Richard Posner writes of “the less democratic cast ofEuropean politics, as a result of which elite opinion is more likely tooverride public opinion than it is in the United States.” If that istrue, then there are obvious ways in which it figures into debates over thewisdom of hate-speech regulation. The standard European argument in favor ofsuch regulation may easily be characterized as antidemocratic: Restrictionson hate speech protect unpopular minority groups from democracy run amok.The Nazi example states the paradigm case, even if the paradigm no longerdescribes the usual targets of such regulation. By contrast, the Americanargument against hate-speech regulation is typically framed in democraticterms: Informed deliberation requires that all sides have an opportunity tobe heard, with the most able policies emerging through a form ofintellectual competition. Or, more interestingly, full participation in ademocratic community requires that self-expression not be limited to whatothers have deemed orthodox.

There is another way, however, in which the relatively democratic characterof American politics influences – or rather, shouldinfluence – the debate over regulation of offensive speech.Scholars of U.S. constitutional law have increasingly recognized thatconstitutional argument must not simply appeal to democratic norms but mustalso attend to democratic conditions. Constitutional law is not fashionedthrough Socratic argument among scholars and judges, nor does it followmerely from the currents of elite opinion, but it results rather from adialogue between political institutions – including theSupreme Court – and social and political movements, against abackground of often exogenous cultural conditions. Thus, we shouldunderstand Brown v. Board of Education not as an epiphanyinspired by the force of Earl Warren's charisma or Felix Frankfurter'sintellect but as a piece of a movement strategy led by the NationalAssociation for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) and enabled, inpart, by antipathy toward fascism and Stalin's Soviet Union. Changes in U.S.sex-equality law in the 1970s can be tied directly to the sexual revolutionof the 1960s and the political forces behind the Equal Rights Amendment.

One of the most fundamental obstacles to EU constitutionalization is said to be the lack of a European demos, which is seen as a precondition for any constitutional system.The term ‘demos’ originally referred to the common people of an ancient Greek state. Today, demos can describe the populace of a democracy, as a political unit. European Member State courts, such as the GFCC, have raised prominent concerns that further constitutionalization is constrained by the absence, in Europe, of a common attachment as an entity; they emphasize that there is no ‘European people’ and no future possibility thereof, meaning that the final say in constitutional matters will always rest with each European Member State.

This chapter discusses the relationship between representative democracy and minority nationalism. Mobilised national minorities and nationalist unrest are a challenge that most representative democracies manage with success. Representative democracies, in the process of accommodating minority nationalist demands, are transforming themselves into something that was viewed, until recently, as a contradiction in terms: a multinational demos, also called by some authors multinational democracy (Tully and Gagnon 2001). I shall argue that it is precisely the emergence of representative democracy and its interconnected logics of competitive elections, majority formation and constitutional amendment that have together given incentives to minority nationalists to defend their claims of national self-determination through democratic means. In turn, the participation of minority nationalists in democratic politics has given state elites incentives to negotiate the demands that nationalists put forward, and to grant them some of their claims. In this manner, minority nationalist unrest has been a trigger for innovative mechanisms of democratic representation in multinational countries.

I use the case of Spain as an empirical illustration of the positive feedback that exists between representative democracy and minority nationalism. The selection of Spain does not imply that Spain is unique. Other multinational countries are going through similar, if not identical, processes of accommodation of minority nationalist claims (Alonso 2010). Spain was chosen because, in contrast to other multinational democracies with a long pedigree, such as Belgium or the UK, it is a young democracy.

The accountability of officials to the Demos

While the citizen (politēs) shared in all the facets of the life of the polis, his citizenship (politeia), his membership of the community of citizens, was most distinctively worked out in what we have called the political–judicial area. Attention may therefore be focussed on various political–judicial institutions and, in particular, on the question of how they were related to the central feature of Athenian democracy, the sovereignty of the Demos. These institutions were not static throughout our period and some were directly affected by the developments that have already been discussed. Quite apart from actual changes in the constitutional structure and procedures, developments such as the tendency to specialisation in the fourth century or shifts in the character of the strategia affect any evaluation of the structure of Athenian democracy. Changes in the socio-economic origins of leaders and other changes also had an impact on the actual operation of democratic institutions. Yet despite all the changes which affected, directly or indirectly, the supreme authority of the Demos, certain devices or factors contributed more or less constantly to the maintenance of that sovereignty in our period.

Rotation and other factors worked strongly, as we have seen, in encouraging the involvement of large numbers of citizens. These factors combined with the involvement of large numbers of citizens to make it more difficult for men from aristocratic families to retain their pre-eminence and for powerful individuals or groups to emerge that might challenge the control of the Demos.

In the midst of the multifaceted crisis the European Union (EU) is currently experiencing, almost every recent referendum held on European issues has been regarded as another crack in European unity. Not only have the questions addressed to the people – as well as the respective political campaigns – touched upon key areas of the European crisis such as finance and migration; the answers finally delivered were often also unexpected and sometimes even shocking from a European integration point of view.

The Greek ‘no’ to the bailout referendum in July 2015 and the Danish ‘no’ to an opt-out referendum six months later were followed in 2016 by a Dutch ‘no’ to the Ukraine–EU Association Agreement, by a Hungarian (invalid) ‘no’ to EU refugee-relocation quotas and, of course, by the famous Brexit referendum; the British ‘no’ to the EU itself.

The last decade of the sixth century was a momentous one in Athenian history. In 510 two generations of Peisistratid rule came to an end, hastened by the intervention of the Spartans (74). In its place, interfactional politics returned, of a type familiar enough in the first half of the century (68–69) but almost forgotten, inevitably, during the period of the tyranny. One of the protagonists, Isagoras, secured a temporary advantage over his rival, the Alkmaionid Kleisthenes, by invoking once again Spartan force majeure (75). But Kleisthenes' riposte – to widen, unprecedentedly, the entire basis of the political argument – was on a different level altogether; and whether or not he himself realised in full the implications and potential of what he then went on to do (76–80), its effect was to mark out these years, for Athens and Attika, as the real pivot between the archaic and the classical periods. The reforms of Kleisthenes, like those of Solon, had their application on several levels, of which the narrowly political, the preoccupation of the ancients themselves (80), is perhaps not the most important. True, the partnership in government between his new boulē (77) and the ekklēsia was to be at the very centre of the evolution of radical Athenian democracy in the fifth and fourth centuries, but it is that extraordinary process itself (charted in Chs.11, 21 and 31) which calls for a more fundamental explanation than the development of constitutional machinery – which is not so much cause as effect.