This chapter provides a detailed comparative overview of domestic religion in seventeenth- and eighteenth-century London, setting out evidence of a range of domestic devotional activities as performed by households of different faiths, and introducing the legislation which, to varying extents, restricted the open religious expression of these different communities. It considers how larger domestic gatherings involving participants other than members of the household would have been restricted by legislation such as the Conventicle Acts (1664–89), as well as self-regulation within the recently established Jewish communities. This legislation or congregational law drew a distinction between household and family prayer and ‘gathering for worship’ in domestic spaces. The chapter suggests that domestic gatherings for worship were permitted in certain circumstances, and that these circumstances generally coincided with life-cycle events.

The Conclusion sets out the key findings of the book: that the home was a significant site of communal religious practice for those of all faiths who lived and died in seventeenth- and eighteenth-century London, and that this was particularly true at occasions of childbirth and death. It suggests that domestic religion should not be equated solely with ‘everyday’ or household religion; the home was the setting of both the daily round of prayer as well as significant life events, and their attendant ceremonies, some of which, such as churching or funeral services, it had been largely assumed had taken place only in sites of public worship. It makes the case for what it terms the cyclical permeability of the urban home, demonstrating that connections between the individual household and the religious community it was part of were strengthened at moments of birth and death. This focus reveals the continued vitality of collective religious life into and throughout the eighteenth century, and the relative authority of women both within and beyond their own households.

The Introduction sets out the rationale for focusing on the home as a neglected setting within histories of London’s religious life, as well as the importance of the book’s comparative approach in bringing together the experiences of households belonging to different faiths. It establishes the parameters of the book’s scope: the focus on London in its unique religious diversity, and as a densely populated political centre, and the period 1600–1780 (roughly bookended by the Gunpowder Plot of 1605 and the Gordon Riots of 1780). It sets out the book’s interventions in key areas of scholarship, including its contributions to understandings of London lives and domestic space, complicating understandings of public and private space in the densely populated and diverse City of London. It establishes how it moves beyond existing scholarship on domestic religion, and the relationship between religion and the life cycle, which has tended to focus upon conforming Protestant and almost entirely on Christian experiences. It also surveys the broad range of sources analysed in the book, including letters, diaries, court cases, wills, and material culture.

For many visitors to China, airports may be where Chinese signs are first seen. This chapter will sample some signs that are commonly seen at airports, including those for customs, terminals, departure lounges, boarding gates, baggage claims, and transportation options. Most of the airport signs are bilingual with English translations. Most of the signs in this chapter are seen at the Pudong International Airport in Shanghai.

Chapter four examines the Muses, the sole female divinities who are regularly depicted as musicians in the surviving visual material. The ambiguity inherent to their representation, where it is never clear whether they are goddesses or human women, allows for their bodies to become visual forms capable of taking on multiple identities. Laferrière considers the images within their original contexts, including the domestic sphere, the cemetery, the sanctuary, and the symposium, to examine how the images invited their viewers to imagine the sounds of divine music and what effect this visualized music had upon the viewing audience. In each instance, she argues that the depictions of the Muses respond to the spaces in which they are encountered, so that their visual interpretation becomes inherently multivalent and malleable. When representations of the Muses are considered within a range of possible contexts of use, the vases make a powerful statement about the Muses: not only may they appear in any context or work through any female figure, but as divinities who are flexible in their visual representation, the Muses become visual forms capable of taking on multiple identities.

The chapter examines the relevance of (international) human rights law for international arbitration. It advances the proposition that (international) human rights law is part of the fabric of international arbitration. Hence the chapter sets out firstly thehuman rights norms and human rights methodology as far it is relevant in the international arbitration context. It then discusses human rights as the means to justify the existence of international arbitration. In its main part, the chapter considers the relevant human rights norms in commercial and investment arbitration and discusses the application of international human rights law in the commercial and investment arbitration context.

Paradise Regained, which opens with an “eremite” (I.10) and ends at home, examines different recurring response to the conditions of modernity: how some people attempt a retreat from the world. By expanding on the Temptation of Jesus (the Son of God in Paradise Regained) by Satan, a set of stories told in the Gospels of Matthew (4:1-11), Mark (1:12-13), and Luke (4:1-13), Milton’s Paradise Regained revises the Temptation in the Desert, casting the world as a series of temptations to be avoided, just four years after Paradise Lost narrates giving into temptation as a felix culpa. To generations of readers, “retreat” comes freighted with political or military connotations that can unfortunately lead the contextual scholar back to the Restoration, i.e., with Milton in retreat from the Stuart monarchy. Paradise Regained proposes a spiritual domestic retreat, and one in which the particular government is irrelevant.

Supporters of ISDS often justify the continued existence of ISDS on the basis that disputes are denationalized, thus keeping foreign investors out of domestic courts which may lack independence, be less efficient, or are biased against foreigners. This justification, unwittingly perhaps, strengthens a perception that foreign investors proceed directly to the international sphere. However, this chapter finds that many investors do avail themselves of domestic courts prior to an ISDS case and asks why this is the case. Looking at two states with transitional judiciaries and two states with well-functioning judiciaries, the author uncovers a rich data on the impressive scope of claims brought by foreign investors in the host states where they are investing; and Gáspár-Szilágyi concludes with some reflections on the role of domestic litigation in the legitimation of ISDS. (This abstract needs development)

There is a critique that investment arbitration undermines or hampers the development of national legal institutions. By providing a forum for foreign investors separate and distinct from local courts, critics argue, ISDS removes any incentive for foreign investors to promote the development of local legal institutions. This chapter sets out an account of how investment arbitration might affect development of local legal institutions, in particular international commercial arbitration and, perhaps, domestic arbitration. The authors find that while both the number of investment agreements and investment arbitration proceedings to which a state is a party is negatively related to the rule of law in the state, the presence of an indicator for support for international commercial arbitration – adoption of the UNCITRAL Model Law on International Commercial Arbitration – essentially offsets that negative relationship.

This chapter seeks to review the current definitions, laws, thinking and theorising around intimate partner violence, from a UK perspective. The breadth of the behaviours included within this type of offending and the importance and centrality of control within many definitions is highlighted. Differences between 2 key approaches to intimate partner violence or domestic abuse are explored an and the tension between traditional psychological/individually focused approaches and feminist/explanation at a societal/structural level are identified. Heterogeneity across perpetrators and the range of typologies that have been developed to address these differences are described and critiques and issues linked to male victims and female perpetrators and IPV within same sex couples if briefly reviewed.Links between substance use and IPV are considered and a range of models, including the multiple thresholds model, are reviewed. The need for integrated theories is considered. General risk factors for IPV are described and individual risk markers for some perpetrators of IPV are identified.Current commonly used risk assessment tools are described and targets for intervention are briefly explored.

Hamilton Carroll considers shifting trends across nearly two decades of post-9/11 novels from early works grappling with the unrepresentability of terror to recent narratives by Susan Choi, Mohsin Hamid, Joseph O’Neill, and Jess Walter that depict the everyday experiences of racialized precarity in a period of perpetual warfare, nuclear proliferation, migration catastrophes, and neo-ethnonationalisms. Political turmoil and violence by state and non-state entities remain central to twenty-first century life, even as the events of September 11, 2001, have shifted from recent trauma to historical retrospection.

This essay develops a conceptual frame for the analysis of peace under a comparative area perspective.I discussthe main concepts (peace, violence, conflict) and assess them in relation to four main theoretical schools (realism, liberalism, cosmopolitanism, critical), demonstrating in the process how a global approach to peace resolves many of the difficulties these theoretical schools encounter by placing specific emphasis on the need to focus a lens on both international and national dynamics across cases. I also address the problem of reliable comparable date and suggest that a comparative area studies approach may be preferable as a means to measure the potential for and progress toward peace.I provide evidence for the added value of such a perspective based on an analysis of peace in Latin America. The concluding section discusses the necessity of a hybrid outlook on peace, which requires sustained action on the part of international and local actors toward reducing conditions of structural violence, and it formulates some avenues for future research.

In this essay, I argue that liberal concepts provide a strong basis for understanding contemporary peacebuilding practice, for assessing its successes and failures, and for improving its outcomes.At the same time, its overwhelming focus on building liberal democratic institutions and on the role of external actors has resulted in conceptual blind spots.Neither the proponents nor the critics of the liberal approach have paid sufficient attention to understanding the internal political dynamics that drive postwar peace and state building. While critics frequently point out the liberal tendency to neglect local perspective and power dynamics, they have not adequately explained how varying political, social, and institutional realities affect peacebuilding outcomes. I explore how a hybrid approach that focuses attention on internal political dynamics can shed light on peacebuilding successes and failures. I conclude with the implications, devoting more attention to the implications of internal politics for the study and practice of peacebuilding and the implications a hybrid model has for the paradigm of liberalism.

Critical responses to the home frequently imagined by nineteenth- and twentieth-century feminist writing suggest that the domestic is too compromised for a twenty-first-century feminist imaginary. Contemporary feminist dialogues are increasingly alert to the politics of the domestic and its resistance to transformational politics. Yet feminist writing has not relinquished the domestic as a site or language for imagining feminist possibility and practice. If anything, we have seen a proliferation of feminist writing interested in the domestic since the beginning of the twenty-first century. This chapter turns to three literary novels spanning the century so far: Zadie Smith’s On Beauty (2005),Deborah Levy’s Swimming Home (2011), and Miranda July’s First Bad Man(2015). In each novel, the homeas literary institution, holiday villa, and single-woman’s houseoffers a focal point for questions about feminist imagining that gives shape to specific textual strategies, suggesting that if twenty-first-century feminism cannot relinquish the domestic, we must learn to dwell in its compromised politics.

This chapter focuses attention on a visual motif that became synonymous with the Reformation; the scales of justice weighing the Bible against the vanities of the Roman Catholic Church. It traces the migrations and mutations of this iconography in English visual culture from the 1570s to the 1670s, examining the contexts in which it appeared and was viewed, including canonical Protestant texts, popular print, domestic decoration and the battlefields of the civil war. It is argued that, in contrast to the pictorial elaboration of similar iconography in reformed continental art, an ‘insular’ process of visual compression enhanced the efficiency and immediacy of this motif’s message of Protestant righteousness. In this synoptic form the imagery served practices of ideological and social cohesion as well as fuelling conflict and division. Like memory itself, the ‘weighing motif’ was repeatedly remade; it was reiterated but modified as it transferred between and across objects, places and spaces. Its success as a particularly memorable motif encapsulates an understanding of the Reformation as both defining historical event and incremental process; while its imagery commemorated a single moment of judgement effecting schism, its persistence and longevity emphasised and facilitated the ongoing struggle for reform.

This chapter explores how Tudor and Stuart families used portraiture to project and record their Protestant identities and reformed lineages over several generations. It asks why portraits as familiar visual sources displayed within a domestic context became important and considers how visual mnemonics were leveraged to secure spiritual status and determine ancestry or broader social status in a rapidly changing social order. The chapter demonstrates how the display of portraiture helped families recall and celebrate the personal narratives of their own Reformation histories in later centuries. It shows how portraiture could provide an assurance of constancy to reformed Christian ideals and a sense of spiritual stability over time, offering evidence of a potential pattern of election to Christian salvation.

This chapter evaluates the links between the power balance in household relationships and Chrysostom’s preaching on pistis (normally translated as ‘faith’). It argues that, for Chrysostom, pistis is closer to faithful obedience than cognitive belief and analyses how Chrysostom used the expected norms of faithful obedience in household relationships to reinforce congregational faithful obedience to God. The chapter uses this preaching to expose the unequal, reciprocal, and sometimes violent nature of the relationships in the late antique household. It also demonstrates how Chrysostom attempted to regulate the household through reinforcing existing power imbalances in relationships, benefiting the paterfamilias as husband, father, or master. Faithfulness to God and the paterfamilias are intertwined. Wives are exhorted to be faithful to and obey their husbands. Sons are expected to obey their fathers. Slaves are encouraged to be loyal and obedient. Masters are encouraged to treat slaves as if they were their own children – fictive kinship – but in practice this amounted to little change. Chrysostom preached a potentially revolutionary message about faithful obedience to God, but recast it into safe exhortations and a defence of existing societal structures.