Chapter 2 delves into the primary actors and socio-historical events that have led to producing Hindu nationalism’s multiple political imaginaries and policy imperatives. It chronologically follows how Hindutva and discourses of economic development have interacted in post-Independence political regimes. I show how the BJP has been able to build multiple narratives, using both technocratic organisations and populist mobilisation, to gain several forms of legitimacy, many of which contradict one another. Scholars have written entire books on Hindutva’s ideological basis and its interaction with economic development. My intention is to give people an overview so they can appreciate how my specific research and argument fits into existing conversations and concerns. This chapter introduces how the BJP adopts two distinct forms of persuasion, making claims about the (sometimes magnificent, sometimes repugnant) past and the future to different degrees: (1) returning to an ancient, mythic, and strategically changing cultural unity; and (2) ‘cleaning up’ persisting economic and moral decadence in pursuit of invulnerable national glory.

Chapter 2 analyses the negotiation of the WHO Framework Convention on Tobacco Control (FCTC, 1998–2003). It illustrates that evidence was a key element of the negotiations and argues that the FCTC was developed as an evidence-based treaty to counteract the attacks on evidence by the tobacco industry. After a historical introduction, Section 2.2 outlines the theoretical background of the chapter, introducing the notion of ‘treaty entrepreneurs’. Sections 2.3, 2.4, and 2.5 proceed to delineate and analyse how the strategy on evidence unfolded during the FCTC negotiations. Section 2.3 illustrates how legal expertise from international environmental law was borrowed to build a treaty that could embed and develop evidence. Section 2.4 describes how evidence was mobilised to build the treaty. First, the treaty entrepreneurs relied on existing knowledge within the WHO; second, they served as a catalyst for the production of additional evidence from other relevant actors, most notably the World Bank. Section 2.5 reviews how the treaty entrepreneurs framed the available evidence and how the label ‘evidence-based’ started being used. Section 2.6, finally, draws some conclusions on the implications of adopting a strategy on evidence to push forward the negotiations of a treaty.

This chapter examines evidence for media malaise induced by attack journalism and the mean world and bad news effects. It also considers the effects of violence, advertising and celebrity culture for the spreading of political alienation, distrust and confusion. Once again, the negative effects of the media are small, but there is evidence of a positive effect for political knowledge and engagement.

Chapter 3 analyses how evidence has become a central element of the FCTC regime (2005–present). Section 3.1 captures the most important developments since the conclusion of the FCTC in 2003. Section 3.2 provides the theoretical framework of the chapter, focusing on the concept of path dependence in international organisations. Section 3.3 proceeds by showing that the development of the guidelines by the FCTC Conference of the Parties (COP) has been in effect a continuation of the strategy on evidence. Section 3.4 in turn highlights the second facet of the FCTC as an evidence-based regime, that is how the FCTC has mobilised new evidence at the national level. Sections 3.5 and 3.6 reflect on the consequences that the evidence-based approach has had on the outlook of the FCTC regime. Section 3.5 uses in-depth qualitative analysis to demonstrate that the evidence-based approach has reinforced the importance of the expertise of civil society organisations. Finally, Section 3.6 illustrates how the evidence-based approach has started to show its shortcomings in the work of the FCTC COP – particularly in the approach to new products like e-cigarettes (or ENDS) and in the (lack of) development of strategies to foster the implementation of tobacco control measures.

Primary party organisations were key engines driving the complex process through which mass repression spread across the USSR, providing the institutional framework in which the social tensions of the mid-1930s could become entangled with the political initiatives of the leadership. PPO records thus offer a unique vantage point for following the gradual transformation of ordinary, if tense, social conflict into a lethal political crisis. They also demonstrate the significant extent to which the party rank-and-file remained a distinct actor deriving its understanding of the repressions from its own lived experience as filtered through its political outlook, in this way placing its own mark on events. In industry, this experience consisted primarily of workplace conditions and the permanently tense relations between workers and managers.

The Great War favoured the rapid rise of a national community and a local movement federated by philanthropical activity. While the various forms of involvement with the national cause of the war victims was conducive to the formation of a society of citizens, the veterans remained subjects for propaganda who were deprived of having a voice in matters. Even under the Provisional Government, the social assistance system for veterans was discriminatory and selective: they were required to remobilise by participating in the production effort without receiving the means to do so. In terms of functional rehabilitation, professional retraining, and the adaptation of recruitment practices, or working conditions, the national economy proved to be ill prepared for the reintegration of disabled veterans. Only the least afflicted physically and psychologically, the most determined, the least backward, and the most educated were able to benefit from private and institutional initiatives that were too scattered to form a coherent system. From the very beginning, their liberal nature ran counter to the progressive discourse’s ambition of transforming society. This extraordinary mobilisation of civilians did not transcend the deep fractures of Russian society.

Key Learning Points

1. 1. Around 40 per cent of patients develop clinically detectable muscle weakness known as intensive care unit-acquired weakness (ICU-AW) that can lead to long-term functional deficit.

2. 2. Accurate diagnosis of ICU-AW can be achieved through nerve conduction studies, electromyography, muscle biopsy and ultrasound of muscle cross-sectional area; however, more commonly, a clinical diagnosis is made using the Medical Research Council (MRC) Sum Score of muscle strength.

3. 3. Prevention and timely management of sepsis is the optimal way to mitigate the risk of ICU-AW.

4. 4. Minimising sedation, optimising pain relief, encouraging spontaneous breathing, early mobility and family engagement are the foundations of best quality care.

5. 5. Rehabilitation should start early after admission to the intensive care unit and continue to at least 3 months after hospital discharge.

Chapter One, ‘Contexts’, is the starting point for these colonial journeys from New Zealand, South Africa and the West Indies. What it was like to be a young man in Wellington, Cape Town or Kingston in 1914? The chapter explores the cultural ‘baggage’ the newly enlisted men brought with them: their expectations for the conflict and what service to the empire meant, to think about how this would influence their representation of their encounters. This chapter acts as touchstone for the rest of the book in explaining how New Zealand, South Africa and the West Indies got involved with the war, how they recruited and who they sent. The intricacies of racial restrictions on the service of men of colour are explored, from those demanded by the South African government, to later decisions made about the combatant status of the British West Indies Regiment which help to understand the structural framing of the encounters the men experienced.

In this chapter, I explore the destabilising role of social mobilisation and cultural shifts, in creating ruptures and generating demands for alternative energy systems and in actually doing the work of transition and wider transformative change by building alternative pathways. I briefly trace early struggles over energy systems from the London smogs and creation of the UK Factories Act during the industrial revolution, through the long histories of indigenous forms of activism against extractivism, to contemporary battles for energy and climate justice, and resistance to new infrastructures, projects and policies that further embed rather than disrupt the fossil fuel economy. I point to how mobilisations have sought to challenge existing political economies and distributions of power, as well as to construct alternative ones. I explore the interrelationships between strategies then describe the rich ecology of resistance, including lobbying, litigation and direct action, pressuring all parts of systems of production, finance and governance, as well as seeding alternatives for incumbent actors to crush or ignore, co-opt or replicate and learn from, or even support and scale up.

At the outbreak of World War I, a handful of British and Italian diplomats and statesmen wished to exploit the traditionally good Anglo-Italian relations to change the geo-strategic chessboard of the conflict. But centrifugal forces produced the longest and more complex negotiations over a neutral country’s intervention in the whole war.

This chapter focuses on the mobilisation of women for the war effort through nursing services, auxiliary military services, and a broad range of voluntary local activity on the home front such as knitting garments, preparing parcels of comforts for soldiers, and collecting sphagnum moss for bandages and surgical supplies. Following an analysis of Irish membership of the British Red Cross, the chapter argues that the extent of voluntary engagement with the war effort in Ireland was more extensive than typically realised and that it involved women from a diverse mix of social class and religious backgrounds. The impact of religious and political tensions is explored, noting the continued support for the war effort after the 1916 rebellion. Comparison is drawn between the response of Ulster unionist communities to the war effort and that of rest of Ireland, demonstrating that the war deepened the polarisation of unionist and nationalist identities.The chapter attempts to untangle the motivations of women to participate in the war effort, and to understand the impact of their wartime service on their lives.