Essaka Joshua discusses the relationship between disability and race, both where they intersect in literary and nonliterary discourses and, importantly, where they are deliberately opposed. For example, in the writing of the blind writer and staunch abolitionist Edward Rushton, the critique of racism hinges on the idea that racial prejudice derives from sightedness. Rushton thus serves as an important counterpoint to the more widely taught Edmund Burke, whose ableist assumptions about blindness in A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of Our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful undergird a belief in blackness and Black subjects as inherently terrifying.

The ILC Study Group on Fragmentation of International Law asserted that the proliferation of special regimes poses a threat to the unity of the international legal system. Chapter 6 challenges this assumption. It builds on the distinction made in epistemology between knowledge-that and knowledge-how. The idea of a special regime as a community of practice makes it a system of knowledge-how. As such, it is compatible with all of the legal positivist’s, legal realist’s and legal idealist’s conceptions of an international legal system, which either see it as a system of knowledge-that or a combination of a system of knowledge-that and a system of knowledge-how. In the former case, in no way does the proliferation of special regimes affect the unity of the international legal system. In the latter case, the unity of the international legal system is indeed affected, but only in a positive sense, as it increases the efficacy of international law relative to the assumed legal ideal.

Chapter 12 explores the relationship between cognition and interaction. The longitudinal study, spanning over two years, utilises Conversation Analysis (CA) to investigate the cognitive and interactional abilities of a person with Alzheimer’s disease, ‘May’, through 70 audio recordings of telephone conversations with family members. The chapter acknowledges a close relationship between language and cognition by examining how memory and memory loss are displayed in verbal conduct over time. Furthermore, the chapter sets out to challenge the deficit-focused perspective pervasive in dementia literature, showcasing how May employs sophisticated communicative strategies and transacts routinised practices of interaction even with more advancing dementia. The findings suggest a nuanced understanding of cognitive abilities in dementia, questioning the binary framework of competence versus incompetence in analysing complex cognitive issues and interactional events. The findings contribute to understanding the complexities of Alzheimer’s disease, emphasising the need for tailored communication strategies to enhance the quality of interactions for individuals and their family’s facing dementia. The chapter underscores the significance of using interaction as a window to cognition, offering insights into the degenerative consequences of Alzheimer’s and paving the way for a more nuanced understanding of cognitive decline in the context of family communication.

The Conclusion provides a very brief recap of the issues discussed in the preceding chapters. It reflects on the larger context of regulatory change, and touches upon contemporary challenges of regulation such as the role of gender, race, sustainability, and future generations in the regulatory process.

This chapter summarizes lessons learned across the exemplary models presented in this book, providing a path forward in furthering prevention science and in charting a course for future directions in the specialty of prevention. A blueprint is offered for training, interdisciplinary community collaborations, program evaluation, and dissemination of evidence. Concrete steps that are necessary to foster a prevention mindset in the field of mental health are outlined. The first step is generating the “will” to reorient our psychological practice, policies, and research to a prevention focus. A second step is to position the training environment to be supportive of and to value prevention, health promotion, and social justice. A third step is to orient our healthcare systems and funding resources to include support for and to engage in prevention work. It is clear that prevention has utility in the current mental health landscape. A genuine prevention outlook is necessary to move from a reactionary approach based on illness to a proactive approach rooted in fostering strengths and wellness and aimed at averting and reducing human suffering. Ultimately, readers are invited to be leaders in translating the vision presented in this book into intentional prevention practice, research, and training.

Chapter Four focuses on how the colonial judiciary and the local government wielded the discretion available in the IPC to manage the punishment of capital crimes. The chapter begins by studying the implications of the new High Courts Act of 1861. I then explore sentencing practices for the crimes of domestic murder and infanticide to consider when and why decision-makers passed more or less severe punishments. I argue that the decision to save some subjects from the gallows helped the law build vital but ultimately fragile alliances between local elites as colonial authorities sought access to the most intimate and politicized areas of Indian life. This process also sharpened colonial terror by regulating the decision to send certain subjects to their death.

This chapter introduces a novel dataset encompassing 731,810 witnesses across 74,077 House, Senate, and Joint standing committee hearings held between 1961 and 2018. The dataset includes comprehensive details such as witness names, organizational affiliations, hearing summaries, committee titles, dates, and bill numbers discussed. The chapter describes the meticulous construction process, emphasizing the extraction of key variables focusing on witness affiliations, affiliation type, and gender. With eighteen categorized affiliation types and nine broader parent categories, this classification captures the diverse spectrum of external groups represented in congressional hearings. The chapter also provides rich descriptive statistics on hearings and witness over time and across committees.

The Nguyễn lords initially sought to control Mo Jiu and his descendants by means of stationing troops, marriage alliances, and symbolism and ritual. Jiu managed to secure autonomy for his realm by forging ties with horizontal translocal networks. Buddhist monks connected him to other Chinese communities while serving as intermediaries to the Cochinchinese state. The remnants of the Dragon Gate under Chen Shangchuan’s descendants bolstered Jiu’s military capabilities while helping him forge ties with the Qing Guangdong gentry. He further sought to provide a welcoming climate for Chinese merchants, sojourners, and immigrants by manipulating allusions in Chinese history, especially the Tang, in labeling and categorizing the major landscapes and features of The Port. The Austronesian networks helped him forge ties with island Southeast Asian ports, while the Portuguese creoles set up a mint. The brief Qing maritime ban in 1717, which exempted Vietnam, cemented The Port’s role as an emerging transshipment point, natural resource exporter, and financial center able to interact and compete in its own right with more established emporia, such as Guangzhou, Batavia, and Ayutthaya.

This chapter uses a range of quotes and findings from the internet and the literature. The key premises of this chapter, which is illustrated with examples, are as follows. First, Big Data requires the use of algorithms. Second, algorithms can create misleading information. Third, algorithms can lead to destructive outcomes. But we should not forget that humans program algorithms. With Big Data come algorithms to run many and involved computations. We cannot oversee all these data ourselves, so we need the help of algorithms to make computations for us. We might label these algorithms as Artificial Intelligence, but this might suggest that they can do things on their own. They can run massive computations, but they need to be fed with data. And this feeding is usually done by us, by humans, and we also choose the algorithms to be used.

This chapter analyses how the ideal of republican liberty and the concept of a competition–democracy nexus have been implemented through concrete competition policy. To this end, the chapter looks at the interpretation and application of the three substantive pillars (i.e., the prohibition of anticompetitive agreements, the regulation of monopoly power, and the control of mergers) of competition law in the US until the 1970s and in the EU until the early 2000s. It describes how all three branches of competition law were interpreted in accordance with a republican conception of economic liberty as non-domination that perceived the very existence of concentrated economic power as an obstacle to economic freedom and democracy. This republican concern about liberty as non-domination as the central element of the competition–democracy nexus primarily manifested itself in the overarching policy goal of preserving a polycentric market structure as an institution of antipower. The republican antitrust tradition in the United States and in Europe built upon the structuralist approaches envisaged by various republican antitrust paradigms to operationalise the idea of a competition–democracy nexus that we discussed in the previous chapter.

The custodians of what Jesus’s followers remembered of his words and deeds until the gospels were written were Jesus’s twelve apostles, several patronesses of his labors, and members of his family, all named in the gospels. Already from references in pre-synoptic letters penned by some of these persons, we can assemble a strikingly complete proto-gospel.