The various names given to the new theatre movement that emerged in the 1960s to challenge both the West End and the new subsidised theatre sector include ‘fringe’, ‘alternative’, and ‘underground’; each offers different aesthetic, social, political, and other definitions of what this theatre movement means. This chapter traces the modern precursors of the movement and the cultural forces that fed into its concerns, forms, and methods, before examining three companies as case studies: Portable Theatre, the Pip Simmons Group, and Monstrous Regiment. Through close analysis of each company’s history, the chapter explore some key features of the fringe that would contribute to its strength but also its vulnerability: its relationship to the mainstream, its collective ethic, and its experience of arts subsidy. Focusing on the period from the mid-sixties to the mid-eighties (perhaps the first wave of the fringe), the chapter asks how far the movement succeeded, whether its radicalism was absorbed by the mainstream or quashed, what contributed to its arguable decline, and what is left today of its legacy of political engagement, artistic experimentation, and much more.

The concept of ‘agency’ demands theorization that captures the dynamic (in-motion) and collective nature (motive orientation) of practice. This chapter follows Edwards’ conceptualisation of relational agency and Stetsenko’s critique of grand narratives of agency, viewing agency as central to relational and transformative practice. Methodologically, the chapter argues in favour of researching incomplete practices in their making or formation rather than complete, fossilised, best practice examples. Data from the initial teacher education programme and teacher sharing meetings show how motive orientation for transformative and responsive professional action takes shape among teachers. It is argued that agentic action is historical and located in the collective system of practice. The findings of the study also put more weight behind arguments that understanding agentic action demands more interrogation of the ‘why’ and ‘where to’ questions of practice; that is, unpacking the ‘motion’ and ‘motive orientation’ of the practice.

Chapter 3 offers a brief history of The Farm community in Tennessee, from the commune period (1971–1983), when it exemplified the spirit of the communal 1960s era, to this day. Using books about The Farm and materials posted on various websites, this chapter also relies on the stories shared by the study participants. It thus provides a somewhat hybrid version of The Farm’s history that enables an understanding of what it was (and is) all about from the perspective of people who were there from the very beginning. Accordingly, it facilitates an understanding of their present realities. This chapter also examines The Farm’s characteristics vis-à-vis the hippie ethics and suggests that it makes a perfect springboard for research on aging hippies.

Groundwater extraction has emerged as a major concern at a global scale. The race to the bottom refers to the practice of drilling deeper to reach ever-deepening water tables. Much attention is given to the threat of reduced access to groundwater, but less attention is given to the irreparable damage to the aquifer due to excessive development. There are several international agreements regarding aquifers, but none refer to storage volumes available in the aquifer. But the potential storage available in aquifer systems could have great value in the future. Unitization explicitly includes governance of storage spaces. By design, unitization seeks to conserve collectively held resources. Elinor Ostrom’s work on common pool resources sought similar outcomes and has similar theoretical foundations. Many of the same policies adopted or proposed for groundwater have similar allegories in the history of oil and gas regulation. These regulations proved ineffective for oil and gas, and unitization closed the policy gap. Because of these similarities, the issues that the oil and gas industry resolved historically with unitization agreements could also address the issues facing today’s aquifers.

Chapter 2 delves into George Orwell’s use of the second-person pronoun in Down and Out in Paris and London published in 1933. It has been rarely noted in Orwell’s autobiographical essay and yet, alternating between the ‘I’ pronoun and the indefinite ‘one’, it uniquely brings the reader to more directly experience what other sentient beings living in deprivation are going through. A detailed quantitative as well as qualitative analysis is offered, classifying the different ‘you’ that pervade the text based on linguistic clues and contextual parameters, exposing all the plasticity of the pronoun. The results show that ‘you’ oscillates between specificity and genericity in a way subtly exploited by Orwell in his attempt at implicating the reader in re-living his experience as a tramp through writing about it.

Though a prominent strand of Wallace Stevens studies argues that his poetry has neither a sense of the interpersonal nor any actual human audience to speak of, recent critics are at last taking Stevens seriously as a poet of community—a key word in recent work by several critics and a peripheral or secret subject in countless other studies. Questions of community and audience, Spaide finds, have helped these critics to reconceive both “the poem of the idea” and “the poem of the words”: critics drawn to the former have focused on Stevens’s historical and personal crises, political philosophy, aesthetics, place, and affect; those drawn to the latter have focused on Stevens’s diction, genres, forms, speakers, and lyric pronouns. Community and audience, for Stevens, are always counterbalanced by their others—individuality, impersonality, inhuman nature, aesthetic autonomy. Closing on a reading of “The Sick Man” (1950), Spaide concludes that Stevens’s truest subject is not community, not individuality, but the never-settled contest between the two.

This chapter argues that the weight of teachings in the ICJ varies between works. Some works are cited far more than others. The most-cited writers tend to men from Western countries. The judges frequently justify citations of teachings, by arguing that the teachings of high quality, that the writer is an expert, that the writer holds an official position, or that multiple writers agree. It is plausible to view this as factors that influence the weight of teachings. Explanations for why the judges distinguish between works is that they want to make their opinions authoritative, that they want to save time, and that they want to comply with the ICJ Statute Article 38(1). Finally it is argued that the variations between the weight of teachings shows that authority in international law is established through an informal, collective process.

The chapter considers communication beyond the minimal dyad. The first section looks at the challengs of multi-party dialogue in relation to the shared workspace framework. It discusses the various conversational roles in multi-party dialogues, distinguishing active participants from audience and overhearers, and considers collectives who speak as one voice.The second section of the chapter considers how monologue fits into the shared workspace framework and discusses the monological roles of designer and audience.

In this chapter, I demonstrate the problem to which the rest of this book proposes a solution: namely, the need for more careful deontic reasoning. I will focus on certain distinctive habits of reasoning that have often recurred in ICL, which have a tendency to undermine compliance with deontic principles.

All legal systems sometimes generate doctrines that appear to conflict with stated principles. However, in national systems, the clash tends to be openly between liberal principles and ‘law and order’ considerations. I argue that ICL discourse often features an additional and interesting dynamic. In ICL, the distortions often result from habits of reasoning that are progressive and appropriate in human rights law and humanitarian law, but which become problematic when transplanted without adequate reflection to a criminal law system. I highlight three kinds of such reasoning: interpretive assumptions, substantive and structural assumptions, and ideological assumptions. These habits of reasoning were more prevalent in the early days of the renaissance of ICL than they are today. It is still valuable to discern and dissect these habits of reasoning, because their legacy continues, because they still recur today, and because they help show the value of attending to reasoning.

The previous chapter examined the range of reward plans associated with the recognition and reward of individual behaviour and/or results. This chapter focuses on plans where reward outcomes are contingent on measures of collective results; that is, on collective incentive plans. Because such plans are generally geared to measures of group results over a relatively brief time frame – typically monthly, quarterly or annually – they are also known as collective or group short-term incentive plans, or ‘STIs’.

We begin our exploration of collective STIs by outlining the general rationale for such plans and by overviewing the four main plan types: profit-sharing, gainsharing, goal-sharing and team incentives. Subsequent sections explore each of these four plan types in more detail, noting the advantages and disadvantages of each. Consistent with the approach taken in earlier chapters, a final section considers the strategic priorities to which each plan type would be most and least appropriate.