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Serving tea, women’s social labor, and the intergenerational problem of negotiating “our culture.” Despite the enjoyment of New Year (Nowruz) ritual social visits, a treasured national holiday respite is a dreaded domestic endurance test, and a quiet war between generations of women. While men quote poetry rhapsodizing over the joys of spring celebrations, women dash between guests, stove, and front door in order properly to serve tea. Woe to the daughter who would prefer to retreat to the more intimate pleasures of the nuclear family achieved through partnership marriage. Unlike religious traditions that some women can challenge through informed argument over proper interpretation, secular social obligations can be experienced as oppressive but nearly inviolable. Hannah Arendt’s theorization of “the social” as a nonnegotiable sphere lacking in possibilities for free action helps explain why it might be easier to rebel against religious norms and laws than dare to defy the accumulated familial and national weight of social tradition, and informs the situation of younger Iranian women at odds with, while trying to remain loyal to, the cultural norms their mothers still uphold.
For Cicero, effective Republican leadership entailed both morality and agency. Morality meant actions that supported the Republic, while agency was required for such actions to be carried out. It is difficult to subsume any theory of leadership under a single word, but I argue that Cicero’s leadership theory can be signified by consilium. This term encapsulates the best mental and moral aspects of leadership as well as the actions and results of acting on behalf of the Republic. It is inherently tied to the practice of Republican politics, a practice that was fundamentally transactional. Cicero used this idea of consilium to support his acceptance of Octavian as an ally against Antony. According to his theory of consilium, Cicero acted correctly against Antony, but Octavian ultimately exposed the flaws in Cicero’s theory when he refused to participate in traditional Republican transactional politics.
2.1 [85] Because we considered it not at all unreasonable, or rather thought it useful and essential, to begin with the required account of who was chronologically born before whom and indeed also what sort of theological views each of them held, we have given the most precise explanation possible of these matters [in the previous book].
Medieval English law set the killing of a husband by his wife apart from most other homicides, because it was perceived as particularly serious and disruptive of the social order. Husband-killers were burned, not hanged, as a spectacular demonstration of condemnation and concern for this social problem. As this chapter shows, however, husband-killing also presented legal problems. There was a doctrinal puzzle in terms of the unclear extent to which this offence should be assimilated to treason, as opposed to homicide: the later distinction between ‘high treason’ against the king, crown or government, and ‘petty treason’ against a domestic superior did not come into being as neatly as sometimes assumed. There were also struggles on a procedural level, as attempts were made to fit husband-killing into common law modes of prosecution, prompting some creative strategies on the part of those seeking to secure a conviction.
The question of how trade governance is – and should be – linked to labour standards has long been debated among academics, policymakers, and activists (Servais, 1989; McCrudden and Davies, 2000; Barry and Reddy, 2006). Especially the insertion of labour-related requirements into the relevant trade instruments as a means to improve workers’ rights in the global economy has been the subject of controversy (Alston, 1993; Bhagwati, 1995; Tsogas, 1999). While largely absent from the multilateral trading framework, such requirements have been included in numerous bilateral and regional trade agreements (ILO, 2013, 2016, 2019a; Corley-Coulibaly et al., 2023b) as well as unilateral trade instruments, such as trade preference schemes and import ban legislation (Tsogas, 2000; Addo, 2015; Velluti, 2020). Forced labour, a form of modern slavery, has been a key issue addressed by these instruments (Compa, 1993; Ehrenberg, 1995; Plouffe-Malette and Bisson, 2019) and, until recently, together with prison labour the only labour-related subject matter for which dedicated import ban legislation has been enacted (Bade, 2000; Fanou, 2023; Lopez and Alghazali, 2023).
This raises the question of which implications such forced labour-related clauses in trade instruments entail for addressing forced labour issues in contexts related to global value chains (GVCs). With trade in GVCs constituting 70 per cent of overall trade in 2020 (OECD, 2020), the regulation of trade can have important implications for GVC governance (Corley-Coulibaly et al., 2023). Trade instruments typically involve policy levers, including economic incentives and disincentives, that can impact actors involved in GVC governance, such as states, companies, and civil society actors (Aissi et al., 2018). However, little is known about the extent to which, and the conditions under which, they have contributed to tackling forced labour in GVCs in an effective manner, that is, in a way that tackles the underlying causes of forced labour and has enduring impact.
This book has studied the making of political legitimacy in the early British Empire in India through images. In so doing, it has argued that central to the creation of political legitimacy was the fabrication of an imperial self-image. The foundation of British imperial authority has been examined here through visual representations of people, landscapes, and flora and fauna in India by both British artists and Indian artists. The importance of art was to be measured not only by the range of audiences for such works—which was vast—but, as demonstrated in the previous chapters, also by its status as a medium through which empire was visualized and even shaped. Visual arts, in other words, enabled the British to see themselves ruling India.
Although the exercise of power necessitates a degree of abstraction, colonialism brought the idea to its most extreme. The importance of abstraction was central to the maintenance of difference, which possibly was the colonizers’ only resort in a strange, unfamiliar land. As noted in the second chapter, the formulation of abstract ideals in matters of governance seeped easily into British private lives in India. While Beth Tobin has viewed art as a mode of abstraction, which she parallels with colonial extraction, this book suggests that visual arts in the British Indian Empire itself came to be shaped by abstraction. Such an assertion redirects us to the question of acknowledgement of the role of Indian artists, who provided low-paid creative labour while remaining mostly anonymous.
This chapter explores the complexity of the relationship between Australia’s rule of law claims and its historical and contemporary treatment of First Nations. It argues that there is a constitutional legitimacy crisis within the modern Australian state, sourced in its original denial of the legal existence of First Nations of the land alongside the denial and weaponisation of the ‘rule of law’ against them. The chapter traces these two strands of rule-of-law history in the broader context of the various rule-of-law debates that persevere in the Australian legal system, and the more immediate contemporary debate as to how to ‘recognise’ First Nations in the Australian Constitution. The objectives underpinning the proposed Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Voice (a representative advisory body) are examined, as well as the reasons for its failure at referendum, which resonate with the claims of equality and rule of law that underpinned the Australian state’s origins, and the origins of its ongoing constitutional crisis.
3.1 [163] Julian has, therefore, slandered all the habits, customs, and mysteries of Christians, and there is not one thing done well or even said correctly in the God-breathed scripture that he does not unabashedly surround with accusations for the purpose of debasing it. He exults only in those things that would naturally cause no small amount of distress to the truly intelligent and lead them to turn to a better course. And, just as unreservedly, he is in awe of Plato’s speech, which he has appropriated for himself in order to defame the divine and supernatural glory.
In order to understand the current intercommunal violence in the western Niger Delta we must examine the historical deprivation of representation and resources by the Nigerian state--in its colonial, nationalist, and post-independence forms. This introduction provides an overview of this historical process, laying out the key interventions of this book. First, Nigeria’s current political culture relies on the competition between majority and minority ethnic and religious groups. Second, minorities are constitutive of the national story, and their existence disrupts the standard nationalist narrative that centers a tripartite social structure based on the three numerically major ethnic identities. Third, considering the history of minority communities in Nigeria compels us to question the nature of citizenship and belonging in modern Nigeria.
Intellectual property plays a central role in beer law, and this chapter addresses a range of intellectual property issues including trademarks, geographical indication, patents, know-how, and trade secrets. Importantly, the chapter also analyses the beer market on both a global and local level.
Even if everyone wants to talk about sex, the most intimate aspects of a culture are the little things, which are often the most opaque. Jokes, toilet etiquette, and mutual deferrals in doorways mark shared achievements of mutual recognition. But humor and bodily practices can be the least translatable of cultural identifiers. Diaspora and foreign observers tend to overlook local class differences and a deep-seated culture of political skepticism, fixating instead on more superficial revelations of sexual behavior that may not be so surprising. How do we translate cultural differences? Is it even possible to understand each other’s jokes?
This concluding chapter highlights the important contributions that this volume makes in featuring the diversity of forms of leadership in the ancient world and in illustrating how ancient people were asking questions about leadership that we should be asking more often today. It further argues that future research on ancient leadership should help readers to draw connections among the different forms of leadership in the ancient world, especially those readers who are not expert in ancient studies, and also to draw lessons that can help us better lead and better select our leaders. Ancient leadership studies need to play a vital role in helping us understand contemporary leadership as a moral, creative and collaborative art that we can all learn from one another.
Beer has been taxed since 3000 BCE. It has provided a reliable source of revenue for governments since the Middle Ages because beer was easily made, relatively cheap, and therefore consumed in large quantities. Also, the collection of beer taxes developed, which helped secure it as a revenue source. The revenue raised from beer taxes was used to fund wars (such as the Dutch Revolt), strengthen governments, and protect local industry (the UK in the seventeenth century). More recently, health and behavioural concerns dominated to the point that governments were prepared to forgo the revenue in favour of prohibitions to improve the health of their citizens (US, Finland, and Norway, 1920s and early 1930s). Sadly, beer taxes did not achieve the goal of reducing consumption or the adverse behaviours previously blamed on beer. Governments later changed the basis of taxation to link it to alcohol content. This has led to an increasing trend in the development of craft beers and low-alcohol or non-alcoholic beers. Beer taxes are certainly going to continue, but they are more nuanced now, with the aim of balancing health and welfare, revenue-raising, and the free market