bluuebunny/crossref_metadata_2025 huggingface dataset:
Ireland: Realm of the Four Masters
Authors: Rowley-Conwy Peter
Published: November 2020

On 9 January 1843, Richard Griffith addressed the Royal Irish Academy (RIA) about some antiquities found in the River Shannon. The river was being dredged to render it navigable, and the artefacts were discovered during the deepening of the old ford at Keelogue. Griffith was the chairman of the Commissioners carrying out the work, and his expertise was in engineering rather than ancient history. He stated that the finds came from a layer of gravel; in its upper part were many bronze swords and spears, while a foot lower were numerous stone axes. Due to the rapidity of the river’s flow there was very little aggradation, so despite the small gap the bronze objects were substantially later than the stone ones. The river formed the border between the ancient kingdoms of Connaught and Leinster. The objects had apparently been lost in two battles for the ford that had taken place at widely differing dates; stressing that he was no expert himself, Mr Griffith wondered whether ancient Irish history might contain records of battles at this spot (Griffith 1844). This was probably the earliest non-funerary stratigraphic support for the Three Age System ever published, but it did not signal the acceptance of the Three Age System. Just as telling as Griffith’s stratigraphic observation was his immediate recourse to ancient history for an explanation; for, as we shall see, ancient history provided the dominant framework for the ancient Irish past until the end of the nineteenth century. The Irish had far more early manuscript sources than the Scots or the English, although wars and invasions had reduced them; the Welsh scholar Edward Lhwyd wrote from Sligo on 12 March 1700 to his colleague Henry Rowlands that ‘the Irish have many more ancient manuscripts than we in Wales; but since the late revolutions they are much lessened. I now and then pick up some very old parchment manuscripts; but they are hard to come by, and they that do anything understand them, value them as their lives’ (in Rowlands 1766: 315). In the seventeenth century various Irish scholars brought together the historical accounts available to them. Geoffrey Keating (Seathrú n Céitinn, in Irish) wrote the influential Foras Feasa ar Éirinn or ‘History of Ireland’ in c.1634, and an English translation was printed in 1723 (Waddell 2005).
Pre-Roman Iron Age Boats and Rocks in the North: Reality and ReXection
Authors: Coles John
Published: November 2020

This chapter is offered to Barry Cunliffe as a token of the respect that I have for his immense contribution to studies of the European Iron Age. Our research interests have sometimes overlapped, at the Glastonbury and Meare Lake Villages for example, but in general we have pursued different lines and areas of enquiry. Yet he has been unfailing in support of numerous projects undertaken in foreign Welds and none, perhaps, more foreign than the study of rock carvings in northern Europe, a long way from his beloved Atlantic lands. In 2003 an important documentation on north European late first millennium BC boats appeared, ably assembled and in part authored by Ole Crumlin-Pedersen and his collaborator Athena Trakadas. The boats, dated to the Pre-Roman Iron Age of the north, have been named after a famous discovery at Hjortspring, on the island of Als in southern Denmark. Here, in 1880 or thereabouts, fragments of planking were revealed by peat-digging, along with iron and bone spearheads; all were either burnt on the spot or discarded by the finders, and there the matter rested until a local antiquarian heard of the discovery and alerted the authorities. This led in the 1920s to a remarkable excavation, far ahead of its time in the technical recovery of the surviving evidence, in the documentation of stratigraphy and context, and in the conservation procedures devised. The history of the Hjortspring boat and its huge array of equipment need not delay us here as it is well set out in the primary report (Rosenberg 1937), in a recent analysis (Randsborg 1995) and in the book noted above (Crumlin- Pedersen and Trakadas 2003).What has intrigued me, and I hope will intrigue Barry, is the location of the Hjortspring deposit, the boat lying not by the present or the Iron Age seashore of the island of Als, but near one of the highest points on the island, and well inland. It was deposited in a pond, now a small peatbog some 50m in diameter, about 40–45m above sea level, and some two km from the eastern seaboard and about five km from the Als Fjord on the west.
The Production Technology of, and Trade in, Egyptian Blue Pigment in the Roman World
Authors: Tite Michael , Hatton Gareth
Published: November 2020

Egyptian blue was first used as a pigment on tomb paintings in Egypt from around 2300 BC, and during the subsequent 3,000 years, its use both as a pigment and in the production of small objects spread throughout the Near East and Eastern Mediterranean and to the limits of the Roman Empire. During the Roman period, Egyptian blue was distributed in the form of balls of pigment up to about 15mm across, and appears to have been the most common blue pigment to be used on wall paintings throughout the Empire. Egyptian blue was both the first synthetic pigment, and one of the first materials from antiquity to be examined by modern scientific methods. A small pot containing the pigment that was found during the excavations at Pompeii in 1814 was examined by Sir Humphrey Davy. Subsequently, x-ray diffraction analysis was used to identify the compound as the calcium-copper tetrasilicate CaCuSi4O10, and to establish that Egyptian blue and the rare natural mineral cuprorivaite are the same material. Examination of Egyptian blue samples in cross-section in a scanning electron microscope (SEM) revealed that they consist of an intimate mixture of Egyptian blue crystals (i.e. CaCuSi4O10) and partially reacted quartz particles together with varying amounts of glass phase (Tite, Bimson, and Cowell 1984). At this stage it should be emphasized that, in the literature, the term Egyptian blue tends to be used to describe both crystals of calcium-copper tetrasilicate and the bulk polycrystalline material that is used as the pigment and is sometimes referred to as frit. In this chapter, the suffix ‘crystal’ or ‘mineral’ will be added when the former meaning applies, and the suffix ‘pigment’, ‘sample’, or ‘frit’ will be added when the latter meaning applies. For the current study, a small group of Roman Egyptian blue samples were examined using scanning electron microscopy (SEM) with attached analytical facilities. Using the chemical compositions of the samples, together with the description of the manufacture of Egyptian blue given by Vitruvius (Morgan 1960) at the beginning of the first century BC in his Ten Books on Architecture, an attempt is made to identify the raw materials used in the production of Roman Egyptian blue.
Where Were North African Nundinae Held?
Authors: Fentress Elizabeth
Published: November 2020

Like several other contributors to this volume I wrote my doctoral thesis for Barry (on the economic effects of the Roman army on Southern Numidia), learning from him of the possible ways in which Roman and indigenous peoples could interact, and the various Welds in which that interaction could take place. I was then, as now, interested in the Roman economy, and while my research has moved far away from both North Africa and the economy over the past twenty-five years it is a pleasure to come back to them. This paper attempts to identify the unidentifiable, the places where the periodic markets of Roman North Africa were held. While at some level we know a great deal about the nundinae of Roman Africa—Brent Shaw’s 1981 article is still fundamental for their study, although many of his conclusions have been questioned—on another we know absolutely nothing. Considering the 300-odd towns of North Africa, our epigraphic evidence for nundinae is actually very slight: in four cases the inscriptions were put up on private estates, in two others at castellae near Cirta. An inscription from Hassawana, near Tiaret in western Algeria, appears to relate to an annual tribal fair located, significantly, far from any settlement. No circuits comparable to those in Campania and Lazio are recorded, and indeed, as Shaw points out, two neighbouring praedial nundinae had identical market days, suggesting competition rather than collaboration—although, as De Ligt notes, the inscriptions are hardly contemporary. Shaw concludes, among other things, that the nundinae were generally linked to praedia and under private control, rather than characterizing small settlements in the process of urbanization. He suggests that nundinae were tied to the internal economy of the domain, but not to the external sphere of large-scale trade and exchange between domains, or between agricultural estates and the central state. Yet it is diffcult to imagine that periodic markets were not taking place, as they do today, at every agglomeration of significant size. Products such as the ubiquitous African Red Slip ware were not produced everywhere, but they are found everywhere, and we must imagine that they were sold by travelling traders at periodic markets. Itinerant traders are characteristic of pre-industrial economies, and fundamental to the retailing of manufactured goods.
A Feast of Beltain? ReXections on the Rich Danebury Harvests
Authors: Jones Martin
Published: November 2020

Twenty-five years after embarking on what was to become one of the major Iron Age excavations of the twentieth century, Barry Cunliffe was also reflecting on the endless cycle from Beltain, through Lughnasadh, to Samhain and Imbolc, and back to Beltain (Cunliffe 1995). While the journey to which Cuchulainn aspired was across the bosom of his bride to be, Cunliffe’s journey took him to a deeper understanding of the culmination of European Prehistory. The campaign he so impressively led at Danebury hillfort formed a critical leg of that journey; it remains a keystone to everyone’s understanding of Iron Age society. He was not alone among his research group in reflecting upon that annual cycle of seasons and feasts, which is preserved in various subsequent Celtic and Gaelic accounts; the principal archaeobotanist and archaeozoologist on the Danebury Environs Project incorporated them into their resumé of seasonal economic activities (Campbell and Hamilton 2000). Cunliffe had previously inferred, on the basis of an analysis he conducted with Poole (1995) of different patterns of erosion and infilling in the thousands of pits within the hillfort of Danebury, that Beltain and Samhain were the times of their ritual opening and infilling. These same pits provided the present author with one of the richest archaeobotanical data-sets I have had the opportunity to examine, and formed a cornerstone of my arguments about Iron Age agricultural production (Jones 1981, 1984a and b, 1985, 1991, 1995, 1996). The discussion and critique those analyses have generated are at least as valuable as the original publications themselves, and the most recent of them draws the debate in an interesting direction. In a meticulous and critical study, Van der Veen and Jones (2006) question a number of aspects of my original argument, and shift the emphasis from my own, which was upon relations of production, to a new emphasis upon relations of consumption. Whereas I had connected the plant remains within the pits to the toil of farmers, they speculated upon the celebrations of the feast.
The respiratory system
Authors: Atkinson Martin E.
Published: November 2020

Oxygen derived from the air is essential for providing energy to drive the metabolic processes in cells and tissues. Air is drawn into and expelled from the body through the respiratory system by the process of ventilation. Within the respiratory system, gaseous exchange takes place between air and blood in the lungs. This is respiration in its true sense; oxygen enters the blood and carbon dioxide leaves it. The activities of the respiratory system must be regulated to ensure adequate oxygen supplies and clearance of carbon dioxide to meet the functional demands of the body. The respiratory and cardiovascular systems work in concert to maintain homeostasis and share several control mechanisms. The respiratory system also provides the driving force for production of speech and modifying sounds during speech. Anatomically, the respiratory system consists of a series of air passages that terminate in the lungs where gaseous exchange takes place across the thin walls of individual alveoli within them. The air passages are supported by bone or cartilage to prevent them from collapsing when air pressure is reduced. A schematic diagram of the respiratory tract is shown in Figure 5.1. In succession, the nose, pharynx, larynx, trachea, and bronchial tree constitute the conducting portion of air passages and the lung alveoli form the respiratory portion where gaseous exchange takes place. Clinically, the air passages as far as the larynx are known as the upper respiratory tract (URT) and the passages below the larynx and the lungs are the lower respiratory tract (LRT). Air is drawn into the body through the nose. The nose is more than a simple air passage; it has important functions in cleaning, warming, and moistening air. Air is filtered by hairs at the entrance to the nose, warmed by heat exchange with the abundant blood vessels in the mucosa of the nasal cavities, and humidified by fluid evaporating from mucus secreted by the lining mucosa. Figure 5.2A shows how bone in the lateral walls of the nasal cavities is folded to increase the surface area available and thus increase their efficiency of heating and humidification. The mucosa lining the respiratory portion has an outer covering known as respiratory epithelium although its full description, pseudostratified ciliated columnar epithelium with goblet cells, is more informative.
Embryonic development—the first few weeks
Authors: Atkinson Martin E.
Published: November 2020

Embryology is a fascinating subject and is the foundation of the development, growth, and maturation of all the cells, organs, and tissues of the body. Strictly, embryology is the study of the early processes of development beginning at fertilization and following the processes that turn a single cell into a multicellular organism. It is all about generation of the building blocks required to make a human body. Developmental anatomy is the study of how these building blocks are turned into specific cells, tissues, and organs as well as the general growth of the body. As you will soon appreciate in the following paragraphs, all organs and systems do not develop at the same rate so there is a degree of overlap between embryology and developmental anatomy. For example, the heart and circulatory system must develop and be functioning very early in development to ensure adequate supplies of nutrients to the developing fetal tissues. Teeth, on the other hand, are not going to be used until about six months after birth at the earliest; while the heart is already beating away, each developing tooth is merely a tiny group of cells bearing little resemblance to a fully formed tooth. Human gestation is considered to take nine months; more accurately, it usually lasts for 38 to 39 weeks from fertilization to birth. Clinically, it is divided into three trimesters of three months each. In this chapter, we will focus on events in the first few weeks. During the first two and a half weeks after fertilization, the very basic building blocks are formed from the single fertilized cell; this is the pre-embryonic period. The embryonic period covers the next five and half weeks during which these basic building blocks develop into the cells, tissues, and organs. As already indicated, some of these may be in a very rudimentary state at the end of the embryonic period. The remaining 30 or so weeks is the fetal period when the tissues and organs of the body grow and develop and the fetus grows considerably. We are not fully mature organisms at birth and have another 20 years a-growing.
The cranial nerves
Authors: Atkinson Martin E.
Published: November 2020

The cranial nerves are the most important neural structures relevant to dental students and practitioners. The cranial nerves are the nerve supply to all the structures in the head and neck and underpin of the anatomy and function of these regions—the head and neck will not work without them. In a wider context, correct functioning of the cranial nerves is a very good indicator of the health or otherwise of the CNS; it may be necessary to test the function of some, or even all, of the cranial nerves at times to assess neural function. In addition, many of the cranial nerves may be involved in various diseases of the head and neck. As outlined in Chapter 3, 12 pairs of cranial nerves arising from the brain form one major component of the peripheral nervous system, the 31 pairs of spinal nerves forming the other. Each pair of cranial nerves has a name and number. Conventionally, they are numbered using the Roman numerals I to XII. The nerves are numbered from one to 12, according to their origin from the brain; nerves with the lowest numbers arise from the most anterior aspect of the brain (the forebrain) whereas those with highest numbers arise from the lowest part (the medulla). Several aspects of any nerve anywhere in the body are required to d escribe its anatomy and function in complete detail: • Its origins and terminations in the CNS; • Its neuronal components—are they motor, sensory, or autonomic? • Its course to and from its target tissues; • Its distribution to specific areas and structures through specific branches; • Its overall functions and specific functions of its component parts. In addition, if the clinical significance is going to be appreciated, we w ill also need to consider: • The effects of damage or disease on the nerve; • Its important relationships to other structures; • How to test whether the nerve is functioning correctly. Given that there are 12 pairs of nerves, does a competent dentist need to know everything in the two lists about every cranial nerve? The answer, you will be relieved to hear, is ‘no’.
Introduction and surface anatomy
Authors: Atkinson Martin E.
Published: November 2020

The head and neck contain the structures that are the most significant to the practice of dental surgery. These regions are not as easy to study from dissection as other areas because an ‘onion skin’ approach has to be adopted. Layers are dissected from the most superficial subcutaneous structures to the deepest internal structures, the brain, and spinal cord; structures that appear at one level may not show up again until the dissection has advanced to much deeper layers. It is important to have a general understanding of the structures forming the head and neck to build up a coherent picture of their relationship to each other. The skull is the structural basis of the head. The skull comprises the cranium, formed from 27 bones joined together by fibrous joints known as sutures, and the separate mandible that articulates with the cranium at the temporomandibular joints (TMJ). The skull houses and protects the brain in the cranial cavity. It also protects other delicate structures vital for the reception of the special senses; the orbital cavities contain the eyes and dense bones in the cranial base house the internal ears. The entrance to the respiratory tract is the bony and cartilaginous nasal cavity; it can also be accessed together with the gastrointestinal tract through the oral cavity between the cranium and mandible. The major skeletal component of the neck is the cervical part of the vertebral column formed by seven vertebrae. The lower five cervical vertebrae conform to the general pattern of vertebrae outlined in Section 10.1.1, but the upper two cervical vertebrae are specialized; the atlas articulates with the underside of the skull for nodding movements and the second vertebra, the axis, articulates with the atlas for shaking movements of the head. The hyoid bone in the upper anterior neck and the laryngeal cartilages below it form the laryngeal skeleton. There are several important muscle groups in the head. The muscles of facial expression are small superficial muscles beneath the skin of the face; they alter facial expression in response to emotion, but also play a part in chewing, swallowing, and speech.
The face and superficial neck
Authors: Atkinson Martin E.
Published: November 2020

The surface anatomies of the face and neck and their supporting structures that can be palpated have been described in Chapter 20. It is now time to move to the structures that lie under the skin but which cannot be identified by touch starting with the neck and moving up on to the face and scalp. The cervical vertebral column comprises the seven cervical vertebrae and the intervening intervertebral discs. These have the same basic structure as the thoracic vertebrae described in Section 10.1.1. Examine the features of the cervical vertebra shown in Figure 23.1 and compare it with the thoracic vertebra shown in Figure 10.3. You will see that cervical vertebrae have a small body and a large vertebral foramen. They also have two distinguishing features, a bifid spinous process and a transverse foramen, piercing each transverse process; the vertebral vessels travel through these foramina. The first and second vertebrae are modified. The first vertebra, the atlas, has no body. Instead, it has two lateral masses connected by anterior and posterior arches. The lateral masses have concave superior facets which articulate with the occipital condyles where nodding movements of the head take place at the atlanto-occipital joints. The second cervical vertebra, the axis, has a strong odontoid process (or dens because of its supposed resemblance to a tooth) projecting upwards from its body. This process is, in fact, the body of the first vertebra which has fused with the body of the axis instead of being incorporated into the atlas. The front of the dens articulates with the back of the anterior arch of the atlas; rotary (shaking) movements of the head occur at this joint. The seventh cervical vertebra has a very long spinous process which is easily palpable. The primary curvature of the vertebral column is concave forwards and this persists in the thoracic and pelvic regions. In contrast, the cervical and lumbar parts of the vertebral column are convexly curved anteriorly. These anterior curvatures are secondary curvatures which appear in late fetal life. The cervical curvature becomes accentuated in early childhood as the child begins to support its own head and the lumbar curve develops as the child begins to sit up.
Swallowing and speech
Authors: Atkinson Martin E.
Published: November 2020

Swallowing or deglutition is a series of closely integrated actions that propel the contents of the oral cavity through the pharynx and the oesophagus to the stomach and ensuring that they do not enter the lower respiratory tract. Some of these actions are voluntary whereas others are reflex. We tend to think of swallowing merely in terms of eating and drinking. In reality, a relatively small proportion of the total number of swallows performed in a day occurs during meals; the majority of them take place to clear excess saliva from the mouth. We are generally unconscious of salivary clearance swallows, but concentrate on your swallowing as you read this chapter—you will be surprised by how often you do swallow. A single swallow usually takes 1.5 to 2 seconds from mouth to stomach. This rapid action means that it is difficult to be absolutely categorical about the precise order of events. For convenience of description, swallowing is usually divided into three phases according to the position of the food but, in reality, the three phases are continuous with each other. The phases are: • The oral phase , usually subdivided into an oral preparatory phase and an oral phase ; • The pharyngeal phase ; • The oesophageal phase . The oral phase is voluntary whereas the second and third phases are reflex. In the oral preparatory phase , food is chewed to the right consistency, mixed with saliva, and collected into a single mass, the bolus , on the dorsum of the tongue. This subphase requires the muscles of mastication, suprahyoids and infrahyoids, used during mastication as described in Chapter 26 , together with the tongue muscles and the muscle of the lips and cheeks to push food between the teeth. The consistency of chewed food is measured by sensory receptors in the oral mucosa. The oral phase is initiated when food is judged to be of the right consistency. The bolus is pushed rapidly backwards towards the oropharynx by raising the tongue against the hard palate from front to back. This action is brought about by elevating the hyoid bone by the contraction of the suprahyoid muscles and the musculature of the tongue itself.
Temperature Intermittency and Ozone Photodissociation
Authors: Tuck Adrian F.
Published: November 2020

During the last two missions performed by the ER-2 in the Arctic lower stratosphere, POLARIS in the summer of 1997 and SOLVE during the winter of 1999–2000, an unexpected correlation emerged when the data were subjected to analysis by generalized scale invariance. It was between the intermittency of temperature, a number which can be determined for each segment of analysable flight from the temperature measurements, and the average over the flight segment of the photodissociation rate of ozone, which was calculable as a time series along the flight segment by taking the product of the 1Hz measurements of the local ozone concentration and the 1Hz measurements of the ozone photodissociation coefficient. In searching for a physical explanation of this correlation, it was realized that the common link between the quantities was that ozone photodissociation produces photofragments of atomic and molecular oxygen that recoil very fast, while temperature itself is the integral of the translational energy of all air molecules. The next step therefore was to ask if the intermittency of temperature was correlated with the average of the temperature itself over the flight segment: it was. One might think that because ozone is present at about 20km altitude in mixing ratios of about 2−3×10−6, the rapid quenching of the translational energies of the recoiling photofragments by molecular nitrogen and molecular oxygen would prevent any possible effects from showing up in the bulk, observed temperature. However, during the POLARIS mission, it was possible to fly the ER-2 near the terminator, the boundary between day and night, because at Arctic latitudes the planet was rotating slowly enough that it could fly legs in the same, stagnant air mass in both sunlight and darkness. These flights showed that the heating rate was significant, about 0.2Kper hour, and since heating in the stratosphere arises from the absorption of solar radiation by ozone, which leads to photodissociation, there is a prima facie case for considering non-local thermodynamic equilibrium effects from the recoiling fast photofragments. Two arguments may be deployed at this point, both from the theoretical literature; there are as yet no experiments on the translational speed distributions of atmospheric molecules.
‘I Don’t Want to Sweep Alone’: Paranoia and Anomalous Experiences
Authors: Freeman Daniel , Freeman Jason
Published: November 2020

Thus George Costanza, nebbish anti-hero of hit sitcom Seinfeld. George is desperate to know why his girlfriend Gwen has dumped him. (‘It’s not you—it’s me’ is her somewhat unhelpful—and utterly implausible—offering on the subject.) But all is not lost. Jerry, George’s best friend, has just started dating Laura, who is deaf. And what better way to discover what people are saying about you than have a friend read their lips? It’s a scheme that appeals to the paranoid in all of us. As George tells Jerry: ‘If we could just harness this power and use it for our own personal gain there’d be no stopping us.’ Well, Laura does indeed lip-read Gwen’s conversation with Todd, the host of the party, and she duly provides George with a running commentary in sign language. So far, so good. But George doesn’t understand sign language; it has to be translated for him by ‘hipster doofus’ Kramer: . . . KRAMER ‘Hi Gwen, hi tide.’ JERRY Hi tide? KRAMER Hi Todd. ‘You’ve got something between your teeth.’ GEORGE What? KRAMER No that’s what he said. That’s interesting. ‘I love carrots, but I hate carrot soup. And I hate peas, but I love pea soup.’ So do I. GWEN I don’t envy you, Todd. The place is going to be a mess. TODD Maybe you can stick around after everybody leaves and we can sweep together. KRAMER ‘Why don’t you stick around and we can sleep together.’ GEORGE What?!? KRAMER ‘You want me to sleep with you?’ TODD I don’t want to sweep alone. KRAMER He says ‘I don’t want to sleep alone.’ She says, oh boy, ‘love to.’ . . . You can guess the rest. This sad tale points up a crucial element in paranoia. Because, although by definition paranoid thoughts are unjustified and exaggerated, they aren’t completely irrational. Life is full of confusing or unsettling experiences and paranoid thoughts supply an explanation (albeit not an especially useful or accurate one) for these ambiguous experiences. They are acts of interpretation gone awry.
Doing the Camberwell Walk: Paranoia and Reasoning
Authors: Freeman Daniel , Freeman Jason
Published: November 2020

Welcome to Camberwell, home of the Institute of Psychiatry at King’s College London. In many ways Camberwell is typical of inner-city London: built-up, busy, and ethnically very diverse. It’s also an area of considerable poverty. In the 2004 Index of Multiple Deprivation—a government-sponsored survey of living standards across England—Camberwell was ranked at 6,327 out of 32,482. This sounds alright until you know that the most deprived area is ranked number 1 and the least deprived number 32,482. (Parts of the Anfield area of inner-city north Liverpool were officially deemed the most deprived place in England in 2004; the village of Oakley in rural Hampshire took place number 32,482.) Pictured opposite is the area’s main shopping street. Follow it far enough and it’ll lead you to the Thames, but the wide expanse of the river seems a very long way from the run-down, traffic-clogged, and people-thronged streets of Camberwell. What effect—if any—does an urban environment like this have on paranoia? To find out, we asked fifteen volunteers with strongly paranoid thoughts to walk down the Camberwell Road from the Institute, buy a newspaper, and come back. Afterwards they were given a range of psychological tests. Finally, their test scores were compared to those of fifteen other people, again all with pronounced paranoia, who’d simply stayed at the Institute listening to a relaxation tape. Did making the trip down the Camberwell Road increase the volunteers’ level of paranoia? Absolutely. And given the stressful nature of the environment that didn’t come as a surprise. (As we saw in Chapter 3, there’s a well-established link between stress, particularly in urban environments, and mental illness.) More intriguing though were the results of one particular psychological test: the beads task. In the beads task, participants are presented with two glass jars. One contains 85 orange beads and 15 black beads; the other contains 85 black and 15 orange. The beads have been mixed up in the jars. The researcher conducting the test chooses one of the jars (without telling the participant), and moves them both out of view.
Technical Changes: Technology and Industry
Authors: Cliff A. D. , Smallman-Raynor M.R. , Haggett P. , Stroup D.F. , Thacker S.B.
Published: November 2020

In this chapter, we examine the second of the five overlapping drivers of disease emergence and re-emergence shown in Figure II.1—technology and industry. Technological developments have yielded immeasurable benefits to society. In the field of medicine, for example, improvements in sanitation and hygiene, along with the widespread use of vaccines and antimicrobial drugs, have served to control and prevent the spread of infectious diseases. Likewise, improvements in intensive care, surgical techniques, cancer therapy, and therapies for other conditions have led to prolonged survival and an enhanced quality of life for many millions of people. But negative effects, too, have sometimes resulted from technological developments. Not least, such developments can provide, occasionally unwittingly, supportive environments for the proliferation and spread of pathogenic micro-organisms. Following Breiman (1996), Figure 5.1 identifies several key areas to these developments. The impact of technology on food production, distribution, and processing has had a substantial effect on the spread of infectious diseases, with potential contamination occurring at all stages of production and processing. The centralization of production and the increased international sourcing of foodstuffs has also had an impact on foodborne disease activity. In addition, current methods of storing foods have resulted in the emergence of foodborne pathogens; an example is provided by outbreaks of Listeria monocytogenes. This bacterium has been found in a variety of raw foods, such as uncooked meats and vegetables, as well as in processed foods that become contaminated after processing, such as soft cheeses and cold cuts from delicatessens, in unpasteurized (raw) milk, and in foods made from unpasteurized milk. Listeria thrives in refrigerated environments and, in its presence, widespread contamination of stored refrigerated food products can occur. Legionnaires’ disease is the paradigmatic disease associated with technological innovation, with cooling towers, evaporative condensers, whirlpools, spas, and showers providing temperatures which promote the survival and proliferation of the causative bacterium, Legionella pneumophila. Municipal water systems are efficient conduits for the dissemination of pathogenic micro-organisms. While most water supplies in developed countries are effectively treated in municipal water treatment facilities, the treatment may occasionally be ineffective owing to faulty procedures or the development of resistance of an organism to routine procedures.
Disease Amplifiers: Wars and Conflicts in the Post-1945 Era
Authors: Cliff A. D. , Smallman-Raynor M.R. , Haggett P. , Stroup D.F. , Thacker S.B.
Published: November 2020

The history of war is replete with examples of novel diseases that have suddenly and unexpectedly erupted into human consciousness. As we noted in Section2.2, ancient Greek historians such as Herodotus, Thucydides, and Diodorus Siculus provide classical accounts of the devastation wrought by mysterious war pestilences—diseases which, in many instances, elude classification in modern disease systems, and to which the appellation ‘antique plague’ is occasionally given (Smallman-Raynor and Cliff 2004b: 66–73). In more recent times, we saw in Table 1.7 how maladies such as the idiopathic English sweating sickness, along with venereal syphilis, typhus fever, and yellow fever, appeared— ostensibly for the first time—in association with wars of the late medieval and early modern periods. In the twentieth century, trench fever (World War I, 1914–18), scrub typhus (World War II, 1939–45), and Korean haemorrhagic fever (Korean War, 1950–3) provide further instances of the emergence phenomenon (Macpherson et al. 1922–3; Philip 1948; Gajdusek 1956). In addition to sponsoring apparently wholly new conditions, military conflict has also promoted the re-emergence of many infectious and parasitic diseases. Recent examples include African trypanosomiasis (Ugandan Civil War, 1979–86; Berrang Ford 2007), diphtheria and tuberculosis (Tajikistan Civil War, 1992–7; Keshavjee and Becerra 2000; Usmanov et al. 2000) and epidemic louse-borne typhus fever (Burundian Civil War, 1993–2005; Raoult, Ndihokubwayo, et al. 1998). Figure 8.1 illustrates schematically the sample factors that underpin the warrelated emergence and re-emergence of infectious diseases. As Price-Smith (2002: 129) observes, military conflict acts ‘as a direct disease ‘‘amplifier,’’ creating those physical conditions (poverty, famine, destruction of vital infrastructure, and large population movements) that are particularly conducive to the spread and mutation of disease’. High-level population mobility and mixing, differential patterns of disease exposure and susceptibility, the breakdown of public health infrastructure, and insanitary living conditions are all pertinent to an understanding of the (re-)emergence complex (Lederberg et al. 1992: 110–12). Additional factors also attain prominence. Within the schema of Figure 8.1, heightened exposure to the zoonotic pool has played a particularly important role in the war-related precipitation of disease emergence and re-emergence.
Spatial Detection of (Re-)emerging Diseases
Authors: Cliff A. D. , Smallman-Raynor M.R. , Haggett P. , Stroup D.F. , Thacker S.B.
Published: November 2020

The development of models and surveillance systems to give early warning of a new or re-emerging disease is an important first step in devising control strategies to protect the public health. In this chapter, we discuss and illustrate modelling and surveillance approaches to (re-)emerging disease detection before considering in Chapter 11 what control strategies might be used to mitigate new threats. We begin by reviewing in Section 10.2.1 the generic SIR (susceptible ⇒ infected ⇒ removed) mass action models commonly used to model the spread of infectious diseases in human and many animal populations, before moving on to present a robust spatial derivative, the so-called swash–backwash model (Section 10.2.2). This model is applied in Section 10.3 to data from France, Iceland, and a small English town, Cirencester, to show, for the cyclically reemerging disease of influenza, how the model readily separates pandemic years from the normal run of influenza seasons. While it is encouraging that the model can spot pandemic years in the train of annual epidemics, influenza is an odd disease in that pandemics occur when a new strain of the causative A virus emerges to afflict the human population. To test the model further, we apply it in Section 10.4 to a set of 14 measles waves for Iceland, 1916–75, waves caused by an unchanging virus in a changing population. Our discussion of the swash–backwash model is concluded in Section 10.5, where it is shown how it can be used as part of a real-time surveillance-based earlywarning system for new disease threats. Any modelling approach to identifying newly emergent or re-emerging diseases can only be as good as the data which are supplied to the models. Accordingly, in Section 10.6, advances in surveillance methodology are outlined which have been facilitated by developments in communications technology, especially the Internet. The chapter is concluded in Section 10.7.
Soils of Southeast Asia
Authors: Dudal R.
Published: November 2020

Towards the end of the nineteenth century, with the advent of soil science, soils of the humid tropics were recognized as a separate entity called ‘tropical forest lateritic soils’. The term ‘lateritic’ was derived from laterite (Latin later, brick), a term coined by Buchanan (1807) to describe an iron-rich clay from south India which, when hardened upon exposure, was used as building material. Originally it was thought that laterite represented soil formations throughout the humid tropics, hence the generalization of the name to all red soils in the region. The great diversity of the tropical soils was realized only around the 1930s along with the limited areal occupation of laterite in the tropics. It was actually in Southeast Asia that Vageler (1930) and Mohr (1944) wrote the first two books on tropical soils, based essentially on their study of soils in Indonesia. The two volumes of Mohr’s book were published in Dutch in 1934–8. The English translation appeared in 1944. They attempted to classify soils of the tropics according to thickness, degree of weathering, parent material, and fertility. The understanding of the morphology, genesis, and distribution of soils in Southeast Asia evolved with the establishment and development of soil surveys in different countries of the region from the 1950s. A first overview was prepared by Dudal and Moormann (1964), using the 1938 and 1960 soil classification systems of the United States Department of Agriculture (USDA) (Baldwin, Kellogg, and Thorp 1938; Soil Survey Staff 1960). A revised version was in place by 1974 (Dudal, Moormann, and Riquier 1974). Preparation of a soil map of the world at a scale of 1:5 million started in 1961 at the initiative of the Food and Agricultural Organization of the United Nations (FAO), UNESCO, and the International Society of Soil Science (ISSS). In 1974 a unified soil classification was prepared and published (FAO 1974). A volume was specifically devoted to Southeast Asia (FAO 1979). The present chapter is based on this publication, and reference should be made to it and the accompanying map (1:5 million) for detailed information about the soils of the region.
Reassertion of Indigenous Environmental Rights and Knowledge
Authors: Beinart William , Hughes Lotte
Published: November 2020

Indigenous peoples have always asserted their territorial, resource and other rights when threatened by encroachment, not least in the settlement colonies covered in this chapter—Canada, New Zealand, and Australia, where they were most dramatically displaced. But in the second half of the twentieth century, the aboriginal inhabitants of these countries reasserted themselves with considerable force and success, using methods very different from those of the earlier actions—including judicial channels unwittingly provided by the colonizers. In the process, displaced and dislocated communities have attempted to repossess ‘stolen’ space—physically, intellectually, and judicially. Reassertion in the United States and these three Commonwealth countries has had global ideological ripples, which is partly why we have chosen to examine them. They also share British-based legal systems and political traditions that indigenous groups have used to good effect. We are focusing here on indigenous communities in the narrower sense, in countries where whites remained the demographic majority. Their challenge was to predominantly anglophone societies, the descendants of British settlers and immigrants who arrived mostly over the last two hundred years. The discussion is limited largely to the environmental aspects of reassertion rather than legal and other ramifications; we will mention important court cases, but not cover all landmark events on the timeline of indigenous struggle. The exploration of patterns of resistance in Chapter 16 covered South Asia and Africa where colonized people remained in the demographic majority and regained political power. Though the reassertions discussed here have strategies and aims in common, they are qualitatively different. They were not so much an attempt, by force if necessary, to repel incomers and the controls they impose (it is far too late for that), or to win overall power in an anti-colonial struggle, as a highly articulate call from the heart for justice, land, and a form of self-determination. Moreover, new movements are increasingly ideological and transnational, involving organized networks that use globalized discourses of discontent. The media, internet, NGOs, and UN fora are their tools of choice, which enable activists to influence the behaviour of states and corporations. Reassertion is the opposite of retreat, one aboriginal response to conquest, and suggests that this modern phenomenon is partly about renewed confidence.
Unit I 10,9
Authors: Allison Penelope M.
Published: November 2020

Giornali degli Scavi A,VI,7 (Apr. 1929–Dec. 1935): 242 (17 Nov. 1932); 290 (17 Jan. 1933). Elia 1934: 320–1. The report for this shop is very summary, but in keeping with the standard for this part of the Insula. Description: two small weights. Present location: unknown, not inventoried at time of excavation. Discussion: see discussion on weights. Description: oval weight. Present location: unknown, not inventoried at time of excavation. Discussion: Oval weight unlikely to have been a loom weight and therefore probably for weighing. See discussion on weights. Dimensions: l.: 67 mm; w. of pin: c.5 mm; head diam.: 16 mm. Description: two bronze fittings with heads in the form of rings of circular section (diam.: c.4 mm). Present location: Pompeii Collection, CB (inv. no. 5153). Discussion: reportedly from small lock (scibe). Present location: unknown, not inventoried at time of excavation. Discussion: Probably a storage jar rather than transportation amphora. See discussion on amphora. Dimensions: diam.: 160 mm (GdSc). Present location: unknown, not inventoried at time of excavation. Discussion: comparable size to cat. no. 261 or 571. Dimensions: diam.: 140 mm (GdSc). Present location: unknown, not inventoried at time of excavation. Dimensions: diam.: 400 mm, 320 mm, and 255 mm (GdSc). Description: three circular lids. Present location: unknown, not inventoried at time of excavation. Discussion: Relatively larger lids comparable to cat. nos. 151 and 165 and probably from open dishes. See discussion on lids.
Units I 10,5 and I 10,6
Authors: Allison Penelope M.
Published: November 2020

This upper-storey unit, or apartment, was accessed through entranceway I 10,5, which consists of a stairway between the two rooms of Unit I 10,6. Eleven masonry steps of this stairway remain. According to Ling, the apartment consisted of a room above the rear room of Unit I 10,6 (room 6A) and rooms above rooms 5–7 of the Casa del Menandro. Elia reported a semi-elliptical lararium niche (dimensions: 1.77 m × 0.65 m, d.: 150 mm) at the foot of the stairs, painted with a green festoon and red and yellow flowers. However, it is not certain that this decoration would identify it as a lararium. A downpipe in the north-east corner of room 6A in Unit I 10,6 has been used as evidence for the presence of a latrine in the upper room although this could equally have been for roof drainage. The only finds conceivably from this apartment, were a bronze buckle and possibly those items recorded above room 5 of the Casa del Menandro (cat. nos. 908–917a). There is insufficient evidence to substantiate its identification as a brothel. This was an area with a wide opening onto the street to the north of this insula. The pavement was of mortar and the walls were furbished with a high cocciopesto socle with coarse plaster above. In the south-west corner is a rectangular structure consisting of two low walls which enclosed two basins (each 1.05 m × 0.88 m) cut into the pavement, with a large drainage channel in front. Ling identifies these as washing-basins. The loose finds in this room, at pavement level, consisted of: two rectangular marble bases, likely to have been for display furniture such as marble tables or basins; four larger rectangular marble bases possibly for statuary; three other cylindrical marble supports; and a small marble capital. A clay lamp was also found in the entranceway, in the volcanic deposit. Elia interpreted the structure in the south-west corner as a ‘saltus fullonicus’, thus identifying this establishment as a fullers’ workshop. Ling points out that these basins ‘could have been used in various crafts’ and he suggests, on the basis of the stone pieces, that this was the workshop of a specialist stone-carver.