To save content items to your account,
please confirm that you agree to abide by our usage policies.
If this is the first time you use this feature, you will be asked to authorise Cambridge Core to connect with your account.
Find out more about saving content to .
To save content items to your Kindle, first ensure no-reply@cambridge.org
is added to your Approved Personal Document E-mail List under your Personal Document Settings
on the Manage Your Content and Devices page of your Amazon account. Then enter the ‘name’ part
of your Kindle email address below.
Find out more about saving to your Kindle.
Note you can select to save to either the @free.kindle.com or @kindle.com variations.
‘@free.kindle.com’ emails are free but can only be saved to your device when it is connected to wi-fi.
‘@kindle.com’ emails can be delivered even when you are not connected to wi-fi, but note that service fees apply.
This chapter examines ideas of belonging, the self and identity through the prism of ethnic and religious categories. It explores the complexities of seventeenth-century Irish identities, especially surrounding changing confessional and national markers, together with evolving concepts of race, and how these could generate violence and conflict. It uses a number of case studies. One is the attempt to convert a large number of Protestants to Catholicism, and the violence surrounding it that showcases the knotty nature of religious and ethnic groups, as both those who refused and those who conformed were subject to bloodshed. Irish Protestants are also considered, as a group who straddled these two categories, with evidence that they were subjected to particular pressure to convert, as being ‘in keeping’ with their Irishness. Finally, the expulsion of the Irish from several Munster towns and cities in 1644 is addressed, with Lord Inchiquin’s status as an Irish Protestant of particular interest in his justification for the anti-Catholic and anti-Irish violence that was central to this episode.
National memory cultures, military doctrine, and until recently historiography have treated total war in Europe and violence in the colonized world as unrelated concepts. But these were intertwined phenomena that escalated as they did in part because of their mutual connections. From the nineteenth century, the mass death of indigenous people through conquest, expropriation, and disease lent credence to ideologies of racial struggle while new technologies of warfare were tested and honed against enemies of empire. After the First World War intensified resource extraction and labor exploitation in the colonies, colonial logics of race, population, and territory were essentially shared by the liberal and fascist powers. The Second World War dramatized the need for restraints on state violence but also raised new barriers to effectively imposing them in the colonies.
This chapter advocates using contributive justice as a form of social justice in work situations as a necessary complement to distributive justice. In addition, it is argued that contributive justice fits better with the capability approach (CA) than distributive justice does. Finally, it is argued that most people are prone to prosocial behaviour under the right circumstances. Sen’s concept of freedom (central to the CA) is very compatible with contributive justice. Kulkarni’s definition of social justice as ‘equal freedom of capabilities’ is adapted to ‘equal freedom of capabilities in contribution’. Contributive justice, in combination with the CA, might provide more opportunities for an inclusive and diversified (work) environment. Additionally, contributive justice is apt to identify and cope with people with malicious intentions.
This chapter examines the imbrication of late eighteenth- to early nineteenth-century discourses on race and class, and thus of the formations of colonialism and capitalism, both within and beyond England as center of global empire and capital. It performs readings of this imbrication in John Clare’s protestations against land enclosure in Northamptonshire in the Romantic period, and it shows how this nexus in Clare anticipates Palestinian protestations against the dispossession of ancestral land since 1948. In doing so, it juxtaposes resonant moments in connected histories of modernity and modernization that inform the history of global capitalism, which still enacts in many ways the racial antagonisms in Marx’s theory of primitive accumulation.
Japan and ancient Greece. Placed side by side, these two concepts give the impression of something very strange, a sort of chimera - half Apollo, half samurai; half Venus, half geisha - set on a ground that is at once white and blue like the Cyclades, dark green and vermillion like Shintō shrines. How could two countries so distant from each other be joined together to form a coherent image, to give birth to a meaningful concept? In this groundbreaking study - translated into English for the first time - Michael Lucken analyses the manifold ways in which Japan has adopted and engaged with ancient Greece in the period from the Meiji restoration to the present. This invaluable and timely volume not only demonstrates that the influence of ancient Greece has permeated all aspects of Japanese public and cultural life, but ultimately illustrates that the reception of Classics is a global phenomenon.
In this chapter, we give the various properties and parameters of the Shrikhande graph; these have all been introduced earlier.
Vertices, edges, regularity The Shrikhande graph has 16 vertices and 48 edges. It is regular with degree 6. It is strongly regular: any two vertices have two common neighbours.
Symmetry The Shrikhande graph is vertex, edge and flag transitive. Its automorphism group is (Z4)2 : D12, of order 192, and has two orbits on non-edges.
Euler and Hamilton Since all vertices have even degree, the graph is Eulerian.
It is also Hamiltonian. Consider the description in Section 2.6. By using only four of the six types of edges given there
This chapter rearticulates its Romantic origins as a specificity of modern critical philology by turning to Friedrich Schlegel’s 1799 novel Lucinde and Schleiermacher’s 1800 reading thereof in Confidential Letters on Friedrich Schlegel’s Lucinde. It discerns in this pair of texts a founding scene of critical philology, in which the rules and criteria for interpretation are no longer assumed to be given in advance but are rather derived from the practice of the text in question. König distinguishes such philological practice in early Romanticism in Germany from later positivist philological practices in the nineteenth century. He traces the return and repetition of such critical hermeneutics in the work of late twentieth- to twenty-first-century philologists known for work on corpuses ranging from Greek tragedy to Paul Celan’s poetry to Sanskrit classics and their legacy in modern India, namely Peter Szondi, Jean Bollack, and Sheldon Pollock. He thus demonstrates the legacy of Romantic philology for the reading of world literature.
This introduction articulates Los Angeles: A Literary History’s interrogation of the literary and cultural representations of Los Angeles using the image of fire that recurs powerfully throughout both the city’s history and its literature. Docherty and López-Calvo acknowledge the mythologized image of LA as a place of ephemerality and reinvention – often perpetuated by the white male authors of the mid twentieth century who have often been centered in the LA canon. Simultaneously, though, they present this book as one that challenges an overfamiliar cultural narrative of LA (and the narrowness of the literary corpus upon which it subsists). The introduction argues that Los Angeles is not merely a site of rupture and creative destruction but also one of complex spatial, temporal, social, and ecological connections. Docherty and López-Calvo frame the volume in its entirety as a call for (and attempt to demonstrate) a broader, deeper, more diverse and more nuanced literary history of Los Angeles that attends to all the city’s complexities and contradictions. The introduction then goes on to offer brief summaries of each chapter in the volume.
This chapter examines early Southern California fiction, such as Helen Hunt Jackson’s Ramona (1884) and María Amparo Ruiz de Burton’s The Squatter and the Don (1885), exposing how historical nineteenth-century romance whitewashed a diverse transnational and multicultural territory. This chapter argues that by sugarcoating the realities of a violent and racialized colonial conquest, early Southern California fiction romanticized the region and its climate as a refuge where White settlers could improve their health. For Meylor, Ruiz de Burton also underscores the purported whiteness of her Californio characters to gain the empathy of her readers. By the 1920s, this chapter argues, literature had begun to depict LA as an Anglo city about to transition into a growing metropolis, but counter-narratives were already emerging, questioning the racial distortions of the booster economy.
This chapter immerses readers in the love–hate relationship Brussels diplomats have with digital technologies. We meet Daan, who thrives on WhatsApp and in-person networking but worries about leaks and information overload; Sabine, who uses two phones to separate work and private life yet still feels overwhelmed by constant connectivity; Jakub, who despises negotiating with devices in the room, fearing they disrupt trust and focus; and Lukas, drowning in his perpetually updating email inbox, struggling to maintain analytical depth. Through their experiences, the chapter reveals how digital tools – smartphones, emails, and social media – have become both indispensable and disruptive. While enabling rapid communication and public engagement, these technologies also fragment attention, blur professional and personal boundaries and threaten the confidentiality essential to diplomacy. The chapter probes the classic idea of the diplomat as an information-gatherer and mediator, asking what happens to diplomatic identity, intimacy and trust in an era of near-constant digital connection. Ultimately, it frames this tension as a defining paradox of modern EU diplomacy: the promise of efficiency and connectivity clashes with the reality of distraction, overload and the erosion of traditional diplomatic practices.
Religion had a privileged place in the culture of the British Army. This was reflected in Queen’s Regulations and (less formally) in the treatment of religious conscientious objectors, and even prospective clergy, in the era of National Service. Religion also played a notable part in the Army’s cherished regimental system, inflecting regimental identities and traditions and helping to shape the identities of relatively new creations such as The Parachute Regiment and the Corps of Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers. Sectarianism also had a role to play in the regimental tribalism of the British Army, especially in Scottish and Irish regiments. While the Army’s extensive network of churches and chapels advertised the continuing importance of religion in the institutional life of the Army, officer training at the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst inculcated its importance among the Army’s future leaders. In addition, the very public (but religiously inclusive) Christian faith of Elizabeth II fortified the role of religion in the Army, reinforcing its importance in an increasingly secular age and illustrating the historic (if now diluted) ascendancy of the Church of England.
Let n be a positive integer. A Latin square of order n is an n × n array whose entries are taken from an alphabet of size n, in such a way that each row or column of the array contains each letter in the alphabet precisely once.
The “letters” in the alphabet could be letters, numbers, colours or indeed any distinguishable symbols. Figure 6.1 gives two examples.
As far as we know, the first person to study Latin squares was the Korean mathematician Choi Seok-jeong (1646–1715), in his book Gusuryak (Fig. 6.2). The name was given by the Swiss mathematician Leonhard Euler (1707–83); we will see why he chose this name later.
Central to religious life in the British Army were the ‘padres’ of the Royal Army Chaplains’ Department (RAChD), whose pre-eminence was enhanced by the demise of the Indian Ecclesiastical Establishment in 1947 and by the slow decline of auxiliary religious welfare agencies. Supported by sending Churches which were also shrinking, and whose approach to Army chaplaincy was often (and for various reasons) ambivalent, the RAChD (like the all-professional Army) generally struggled to find recruits. The duties of chaplains were varied, ranging far beyond the stated requirements of Queen’s Regulations. They were also fulfilled under the umbrella of an organisation that was, until ‘Convergence’ in the early twenty-first century, divided along confessional lines, and whose ethos and training was widely considered archaic and even inadequate. However, the McGill Report of 1999 was a catalyst for change. Its emphasis on efficiency and on chaplaincy’s ethical contribution laid the foundations for an increased and more ubiquitous chaplaincy presence, an improved training regime and for institutional Convergence. The fruits of these changes would quickly become apparent in the War on Terror.
This chapter introduces the theory of lossless transmission lines based on an equivalent circuit. The three key parameters, the velocity of propagation, the characteristic impedance and the reflection coefficient are shown to be linked to the circuit parameters. Using these concepts, there are examples of step waves reflecting from resistances at the end of transmission lines. In some examples, there are also reflections from the source resistance as well. These multiple reflections are analysed to show that they reach a steady state predicted by circuit theory. Pulses on transmission lines are described by taking a positive step wave and then adding a delayed negative step wave. The energy in a pulse is shown to consist of an equal amount of electric and magnetic energy. The chapter ends with examples of reflections from both a capacitor and an inductor.