This final chapter ties together the lessons gleaned from the preceding analyses of statutory and contractual reversion models to present broad principles for lawmakers to apply when considering implementing reversion mechanisms in their jurisdictions. These principles are pitched at a suitably abstract level, cognisant of the different issues faced across different creative markets and jurisdictions. They cover elements like protecting reversion mechanisms against subversion by rightsholders and ensuring reversion mechanisms are industry specific. We close the chapter, and the book, with a provocation as to what an effective reversion system might look like, drawn from Giblin’s prior work in ‘A New Copyright Bargain’ (2018).

Among the many transformations from the first to the third Critique, one concerns the role of imagination which is no longer connected to the problems of representation (Vorstellung) but with exhibition or presentation (Darstellung). The focus is no longer the reproduction in the mind of the appearances we experience, but reflection on the relation between the phenomenal and the noumenal levels. In § 59 of the third Critique, Kant speaks of a symbolic hypotyposis, that is, an exhibition on the part of imagination intended to prove the reality of our ideas. Indeed, subjectio ad aspectum and hypotyposis mean giving visibility to ideas. The fulcrum of the chapter will be an examination of how, in his understanding of the concept ‘symbol’ in KU, § 59, Kant retrieves the tradition of ancient rhetoric while he at the same time reverses its constitutive tenets. Imagination no longer has to do with the faculty for images, but with the exhibition of the supersensible in a sensible medium. Kant’s move prepares, but is essentially foreign to, the further development in German Romanticism that progressively makes symbol the equivalent of poetry and the coincidence of finite and infinite.

This chapter takes up a theme that has underlain all previous chapters: were these men capitalists or how are they positioned in the history of capitalism? It also explores the question of whether these merchants formed a class and, if so, in what sense. I argue that they did form a class based on their role in the economy, but that their identity was fashioned by drawing on other ideological registers as well. The complex “class identity” they constructed allowed them entry into their period’s moral economy. It also provided later merchants with a model that would enable a narrative about their own self-worth.

From the early twentieth century, African work was reshaped by the emergence of the Spiritual Baptist Faith. Chapter 9 focuses on border-crossing devotees who spread the new religion throughout several locales in the Eastern Caribbean, returning to Grenada with a reworked version of the Spiritual Baptist Faith marked by South Asian and non-Christian European characteristics. The incorporation of the Spiritual Baptist Faith into African work practice indicates some ways in which liberated African cultures were invigorated by African Caribbean practices.

Many eighteenth-century theorists of common law attributed its legitimacy in part to its connection to a particular location and history. However, as Britain incorporated Scotland and expanded its imperial reach abroad, British governors often attempted to carry common-law practices to new locations. In his fiction and nonfiction, Sir Walter Scott advocates maintaining Scotland’s common-law system but worries that the very cultural and legal distinctiveness he demands for Scotland prevents Scots from receiving justice under British law. Portraying the consequences of the Norman conquest in Ivanhoe (1819) and internal and external colonialism in Chronicles of the Canongate (1827), Scott demonstrates the difficulties of reconciling the role of custom in common law’s legitimacy with a centralizing imperial state. In both works, the victors’ biases toward their own law mean that history and historical fiction no longer suture past and present, and that law imposes tragedy as well as order.

Post-genocide Rwanda serves as a case of strong institutional control in which the government engages transitional justice through a strategy of coercion. In this chapter I explore the Rwandan government’s response to international pressure for accountability. To advance government impunity, the government adopts a strategy of coercion, wherein a new transitional justice institution, gacaca, is implemented but subsequently monitored and controlled to advance state impunity and consolidate RPF control. The chapter begins with an overview of armed conflict in Rwanda with particular attention on the complexities of the violence experienced by individuals during the civil war, genocide, and at the hands of the RPF. I then discuss the government’s strategic adaptation of transitional justice to identify and evaluate the coercive strategy in which claims for government accountability are monitored and controlled. I explore the strategy of coercion in practice through an in-depth analysis of gacaca, which has aggressively pursued crimes of genocide while ignoring RPF abuses. To explore the coercion strategy beyond the case of Rwanda, I examine transitional justice in Burundi.

This chapter examines the literary registration of the life- and environment-making dynamics of commodity frontiers. It focuses on fictional representations of the contemporary soy frontier in Argentina and the former coal-mining districts of North East England. Specifically, the chapter considers Samanta Schweblin’s Distancia de rescate (Fever Dream, 2014), described by the author as Argentina’s first glyphosate novel, alongside Benjamin Myer’s Pig Iron (2012), which registers the socioecological fallout from the collapse of the coal frontier in County Durham. Placing both novels in the context of earlier depictions of the agricultural and industrial frontiers of Argentina and North East England, I show how, despite the very different geopolitical situations to which they respond, Schweblin’s and Myer’s narratives share certain thematic, stylistic, and formal likenesses in their mediation of the volatile and violent dynamics of commodity frontiers.

The purpose of this chapter is to analyze Kant’s approach to writing philosophical texts, as such. By his own admission, Kant struggled with making his texts clear. He viewed this problem as not only technical, but as properly philosophical. It will be demonstrated that Kant carefully analyzed different types of linguistic clarity in his Lectures on Logic, that he fully recognized the difficulty of achieving them in practice, and that he nevertheless granted his readers the ‘right’ to ‘legitimately demand’ a certain level of clarity in principle. It will then be examined how and why Kant deployed various forms of metaphorical language to meet this challenge – a strategy which has, in turn, opened promising avenues for scholars interpreting his works. An analysis of the Critique of Pure Reason will illustrate how Kant ingeniously exploited metaphors to combine “discursive (logical) clarity” with “intuitive (aesthetic) clarity,” aiming for an ideal he termed “lucidity [Helligkeit].” In particular, the discursive structure of the Critique is represented here through an analogical model based on Kant’s vividly metaphorical description of moral character formation in the Anthropology.

By the mid-nineteenth century many scientists considered the notion of evolution seriously but the mechanism for this was lacking. In 1859 Charles Darwin introduced just such a mechanism – natural selection which is based on heritable variation and differential reproductive success. Hence individuals with characteristics which allow them to survive and outbreed others pass on such characteristics to future generations. The work of Williams, Hamilton and Trivers led evolutionists to reconsider the level at which selection operates. In The Selfish GeneRichard Dawkins made explicit the notion of the gene as the unit of selection and introduced the concepts of the replicator and the vehicle. The replicator is the gene and the vehicle the organism. Debates concerning individual versus gene selection continue. Generally, selection pressures which act on individuals will also act on genes directly. In the case of altruistic behaviour, however, this may not always be the case.