While Arthur functioned as a point of reference and a hero to be emulated in early medieval Welsh texts, the rise in interest in utilising King Arthur and the values he stood for in visibly political ways becomes evident in the period following the twelfth century. Appropriations of the symbolism from Arthurian stories ranged from objects, performances, ceremonies, events (such as Arthurian-themed tournaments and pageants) and displays. This chapter interrogates the social and political uses of these varied instances of Arthurianism, linking them, where possible, to their Arthurian literary sources. It aims to show, selectively, the breadth of inspiration drawn from Arthurian legends across Europe for daily life, particularly among those who had urgent and real benefits to reap from association with the legendary king.

This chapter characterizes the evolution and politicization of corporate regulation in Nigeria and crafts a theory of professional interest group politics in Nigeria. The chapter outlines how corporate regulation in Nigeria was politicized during the era of Ibrahim Babangida’s Structural Adjustment Program. In particular, the drafting process of the Companies Decree of 1990 provided a previously unparalleled opportunity for independent manufacturing, services, professional, and labor organizations to contest the revision of the most fundamental provisions of Nigerian corporate law. Informed by this history, the chapter advances a novel theory of professional interest groups in Nigerian politics, which are industry-based organizations that seek to advance their policy objectives at the federal level. Drawing their membership from across traditional regional, ethnic, and class boundaries, they are internally hierarchical and their less-prominent members also benefit from the achievement of shared regulatory objectives. Nigerian professional interest groups exercise a tangible influence over federal policy and its implementation.

Chapter 9 continues to explicate Machiavelli’s theory of the state in the Discorsi, showing how he avails himself of many of the conceptual materials whose place in his earlier thinking has now been observed. It illustrates how Machiavelli continues to conceptualize the state as a body and to understand the work of state formation as an aesthetic process which involves carefully shaping its human material, although he now tracks that process across the course of centuries in a complex account of the phenomenon of corruption within the career of the Roman state. The chapter also underlines how Machiavelli continues to insist that benefits are a powerful way of generating obligations to the state, although he is now noticeably more concerned about the effects of ingratitude upon beneficiaries who are prone to forget or renege upon their debts. And, as the chapter further emphasizes, he continues to maintain that those who hold office within the state should not be mistaken for representative figures in any capacity whatsoever. This point raises a fundamental problem in how to construe his overall theory: is the state a person as well as a body? The chapter culminates in an attempt to resolve this complex question.

While the rest of the book takes the form of a constitutional law text largely based on discussion of theory and court precedent, the prologue provides the lived, empirical day-to-day context out of which the project arose by sharing the stories of the ordinary people on whom the topics discussed have primary bearing. Moreover, given the grounded, ethnographic method from which the prologue’s scene-setting stories draw and the ‘constitutional ethnography’ to be applied more broadly as a methodology throughout the book, the prologue draws inspiration from qualitative scholarship’s emphasis on the need for researchers to state their positionality vis-à-vis the research. The prologue therefore describes the global transdisciplinary approach adopted in and through the book project which primarily builds upon critical Black, Indigenous, postcolonial and decolonial scholarship developed in the Global South and by marginalised communities in the Global North.

Describes the British government’s ‘Meade Mission’ to the island of Mauritius and its subsequent report.

Chapter 5 is focused on the impact of national security review for cross-border listings of Chinese companies within the broader context of foreign investment regulation in China. By analyzing the law and practices of China and the United States, this chapter finds that the national security review regimes of the two jurisdictions have functional convergences despite some formal divergences caused by diverse political-economy landscapes. Their functional convergences are highlighted by China’s local practices, such as the de facto national security screening in the name of anti-monopoly review. There are many factors affecting China’s national security review regime for foreign investment, including the ongoing (and escalating) US–China competition (or conflict) at the international level and the evolution of state or party capitalism at the domestic level.

The final decade of Sarah Wambaugh’s life would see her appointed technical advisor to the allied-run mission to observe the sensitive Greek elections of 1946, as well as to the soon abandoned plebiscite in Kashmir several years later. However, in Greece Wambaugh’s expertise now stood in contrast to new scientific sampling techniques, while she would keep silent about the fact that women were not allowed to vote, in a bid to support the anti-communists who won the election. Meanwhile her normative rules for the plebiscite would be dispensed with as not culturally relevant by those planning the vote in Kashmir. The chapter ends with an examination of the first UN plebiscite actually held, in British Togoland in 1956, and with the 1955 referendum on the proposal to turn the Saar into a Europeanised territory. Both operations eschewed many of the heavy normative principles which Wambaugh had developed for the plebiscite.

This manifesto argues that by combining student voice, agency and practical wisdom, or phronēsis, a more equitable and just educational system can be created that supports students’ empowerment as leaders of transformative change who can make well-informed, values-based judgements. Practical wisdom is the ability to make well-informed decisions based on knowledge, experience and ethical values. The manifesto recommends specific actions in support of this, such as reevaluating curriculum goals; availing students of different types of knowledge, capacities and reasoning; and establishing environments that promote collaboration and reflection. It aims to inspire educators to nurture children to be better decision makers and collaborative problem solvers. It concludes that despite the challenges facing the world today, the voices of children and young people offer hope, and that we must listen to them.

I met Robert Aumann (*1930) in his office at the Federmann Center for the Study of Rationality at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem. The place has an interesting architecture; it is a square building with a large opening in the middle, so everyone could basically see everyone else’s office, enabling a lot of interaction. The green plants in the building nicely complemented the brown wood, together giving the feeling of comfort. Aumann’s office was located in a central spot in the building. When I entered, he sat behind his desk, surrounded by hundreds of books and papers. Rather small, but with a long white beard and a black suit, he nearly blended in with the shelves. Throughout the whole interview, Aumann remained friendly but at the same time notably affirmative, clearly having strong views – particularly on the status and relevance of game theory not only as a scholarly enterprise but also a basis for political advice and ultimately as a tool to support one’s political views.

Hume’s Dialogues contains one of the most efficient and rhetorically effective – and consequently influential statements of the problem (or problems) of evil in literature. In the last three parts of the Dialogues, we can see much of the shape of the contemporary debate on the problem, in its various aspects. But, familiar though the main lines of that debate might be, Hume’s presentation of the issues in dramatic form throws up some less familiar angles, as well as posing a question concerning his own views on religion. This chapter will follow the course of the discussion as it unfolds, taking points more or less in the order in which they arise, but organised around the various problems of evil. It ends with a brief consideration of the wider consequences of the discussion.