bluuebunny/crossref_metadata_2025 huggingface dataset:
Paranoia
Authors: Freeman Daniel , Freeman Jason
Published: November 2020

Terrorists, child abductors, muggers, delinquent teenagers, malicious colleagues . . . Who wouldnt be worried? The world can be a dangerous place, for sure. But have we lost the knack of judging risk? Are we letting paranoia get the better of us? In this entertaining and thought-provoking book, based on the most up-to-date scientific research, Daniel and Jason Freeman highlight just how prominent paranoia is today. One in four of us have regular paranoid thoughts. The authors analyse the causes of paranoia, identifying the social and cultural factors that seem to be skewing the way we think and feel about the world around us. And they explain why paranoia may be on the rise and, crucially, what we can do to tackle it. Witty, clear, and compelling, Paranoia takes us beyond the tabloid headlines to pinpoint the real menace at the heart of twenty-first century culture.
Early Medieval Settlements
Authors: Hamerow Helena
Published: November 2020

The excavation of settlements has in recent years transformed our understanding of north-west Europe in the early Middle Ages. We can for the first time begin to answer fundamental questions such as: what did houses look like and how were they furnished? how did villages and individual farmsteads develop? how and when did agrarian production become intensified and how did this affect village communities? what role did craft production and trade play in the rural economy? In a period for which written sources are scarce, archaeology is of central importance in understanding the 'small worlds' of early medieval communities. Helena Hamerow's extensively illustrated and accessible study offers the first overview and synthesis of the large and rapidly growing body of evidence for early medieval settlements in north-west Europe, as well as a consideration of the implications of this evidence for Anglo-Saxon England.
Coastal Zone Development in Southeast Asia
Authors: Wong P. P.
Published: November 2020

Coastal environments of Southeast Asia have been discussed in Chapter 11. This chapter focuses on the utilization of the region’s coastal resources, reflecting not only its varied physical characteristics but also the traditional practices and more modern economic influences that have developed along the coastal regions. Historically, the region serves as an important link between trading routes to Western and Eastern Asia. Many sea battles were fought here between local potentates and foreign powers to win control of the spice trade. A number of the coastal villages developed into important coastal cities, e.g. Cebu, Malacca, Singapore, or in recent years, into coastal tourist resorts, e.g. Pattaya, Kuta. Within the region, there are still strong cultural traditions in the use of coast, although these are being eroded or replaced by more modern or economic practices. For example, the beach forms the traditional recreational area for farmers after the harvest season in Lombok and the east coast of Peninsular Malaysia. Traditionally, the Balinese attach a low economic value to the coast, but this has been replaced in modern times by new and high economic values for tourism, residence, and other uses. The demands for the coastal areas for different uses have various impacts, many of which are detrimental to the coastal environment and may lead to conflicts between users. This chapter relates people with the coastal environment in terms of living and non-living marine resources. Specifically, it discusses several major coastal uses, and their impacts and attempted solutions, to development-related problems. A holistic approach in coastal zone management to solve the problems is advocated, and the implementation and success of this approach assessed. This is also considered within the future and wide-ranging context of climate change and attendant sea-level rise. The definition of a ‘coastal zone’ in Southeast Asia is variable and difficult, as not all states have coastal zone management acts or legislation to define the coastal zone. For the purposes of this chapter, the coastal zone is taken as a variable area defined by not only biogeomorphological characteristics but also the major types of use.
Numismatic Background of Early Anglo-Saxon England
Authors: Gannon Anna
Published: November 2020

In much of the former western Roman Empire the use and minting of coins were continued on the established Roman pattern, albeit with innovations, initially, at least, as a legacy of the old administration. Important changes consisted in a shift from the Roman system of gold, silver, and base metal towards the sole use of gold during the fifth century and in adjusting the weights of the coins to fit in with their particular Germanic system. In Britain, however, the use of coinage seems to have lapsed for nearly two centuries. The withdrawal of the Roman army from Britain early in the fifth century meant not only that the Romano-British population had to fend for itself, but also the end of the taxation levied to support functionaries and legions and of the need for regular supplies of coins to meet these and other fiscal duties. The breakdown of Romano-British society and its infrastructure was fairly rapid but varied from area to area, as can be seen from the distribution of the finds of the last of the Roman coins to be issued to Britain. The insecurity of the period is reflected in the non-retrieval of buried treasure—precious artefacts, as well as money. Silver coins in particular, often clipped and pared, show the growing shortage of metal. Taking advantage of the uncertain political situation in Britain, tribes from the Continent—who came to be known as the Anglo-Saxons—established control over eastern Britain during the fifth century AD, extending south and west into most of modern England over the next two centuries. The situation in Britain seems to have been very different from that of other provinces of the Roman Empire, where it is appropriate to talk of the continuity of institutions rather than of the collapse of the Imperial organization. The Anglo-Saxons, though familiar with money from looting and tribute, initially had no need for coins or their orthodox uses. Coins were regarded as bullion or used as jewellery. Evidence from the graves of the fifth to the seventh centuries shows that Roman bronze coins were often pierced and used as decorative spangles on clothes or as pendants, possibly with apotropaic connotations.
The Insula of the Menander at Pompeii
Authors: Allison Penelope M.
Published: November 2020

This book contains catalogues, analyses, photographs and drawings of some 2,000 archaeological artifacts excavated from the Insula of the Menander in Pompeii. The catalogues, and analyses are organized by provenance--buildings, rooms, and location within rooms--so that the reader can understand the artifacts as household assemblages. The functions of artifacts and groups of artifacts are discussed, as are the Latin names which are often given to these artifacts, and the relationships of these assemblages to the state of occupancy of the buildings in the Insula during the last years of Pompeii. This study, therefore, provides a wealth of information, not only on the range and use of artifacts in Pompeian houses but also on Roman artifacts, and Roman society, more generally.
Introduction
Authors: Allison Penelope M.
Published: November 2020

As outlined in the introduction to the first volume of this series, this third volume contributes to the investigations of the British project in Pompeii with a study of the finds excavated from the Insula del Menandro during the 1920s and 1930s. It includes a systematic documentation and functional analysis of these artefactual remains, that can enrich our understanding of Pompeian society. My involvement with this project grew out of my study of the house-floor assemblages in thirty Pompeian ‘atrium’ houses. This earlier study reappraised past interpretations of the depositional processes at Pompeii and past spatial and functional analyses of Pompeian domestic behaviour. It used the published reports, excavation notebooks and inventories to compile a primary database of some 16,000 Pompeian artefacts, which were systematically analysed to assess patterns of residential behaviour and abandonment processes, within each house and within each room type. This study relied on the documentation of the finds from these houses that had been carried out at the time of excavation. It soon became apparent that, to understand the precise types of artefacts, described in Italian in the reports, and their functional characteristics, greater familiarity with the actual artefacts was needed. Study of the artefacts from the Insula del Menandro, whose four larger ‘atrium’ houses (the Casa del Menandro, Casa del Fabbro, House I 10,8, and Casa degli Amanti) were included in my previous study, provided an opportunity for a more in-depth knowledge of Pompeian artefacts. A finds catalogue was, therefore, compiled which catalogued not only the artefacts excavated from these four houses but also those from the other establishments in this Insula—Houses I 10,1, I 10,3, and I 10,18 and Units I 10,5–6, I 10,9, I 10,12, and I 10,13. This catalogue is the core data for this volume. Unlike more standard studies of the ‘loose finds’ from excavations of Roman period sites, this catalogue does not consist of a series of artefactual typologies. A common, although not exclusive, pattern of post-excavation processing of excavated artefacts is to divide excavated artefacts into what are now well-established categories, selected largely on criteria attributable to the formal, or manufacturing, characteristics of the artefact (for example, pottery, glass, metal).
Unit I 10,13
Authors: Allison Penelope M.
Published: November 2020

Giornali degli Scavi: A,VI,7 (Apr. 1929–Dec. 1935): 175 (15 Apr. 1932); 201–3 (2–7 July 1932); 342–3 (12–13 June 1933). Elia 1934: 340–1. The recording of the excavation for this area is again fairly summary, but reporting the removal of the volcanic deposit below the fallen rafters. It was obviously left partially unexcavated for nearly a year. Present location: unknown, not inventoried at time of excavation. Description: Fragmentary amphora with a black painted inscription on the neck. Inscription:. Present location: unknown, not inventoried at time of excavation. Reference: inscription: Della Corte 1933: 318, no. 339. Discussion: see discussion on amphora. Dimensions: preserved l.: 140 mm. Description: Iron slide key with tapering stem of rectangular section (max. dimensions: 20 mm × 10 mm). Suspension ring (diam.: c.30 mm) and L-shaped bit, with the remains of two teeth. Present location: Pompeii Collection. CB (inv. no. 5057). Discussion: Similar type to cat. no. 136. See discussion on locks and keys. Description: small vase. Present location: unknown, not inventoried at time of excavation. Present location: unknown, not inventoried at time of excavation. Description: base of vase. Present location: unknown, not inventoried at time of excavation. Discussion: excavators recorded that this was found on cat. no. 1914. Dimensions: h.: 0.9 m (GdSc). Description: one amphora is cylindrical with an inscription in black. Present location: unknown, left in situ at time of excavation (inv. no. 5631). Discussion: see discussion on amphora. Present location: unknown, not inventoried at time of excavation. Discussion: see discussion on axes. Dimensions: h.: 248 mm; diam.: 159 mm. Description: Large funnel with a bell-shaped bowl, decorated with incised concentric lines at the carination and on the inside of the rim. Tapering cylindrical funnel, consisting of a folded piece of lamina, soldered to the base of the bowl. The end of the funnel is missing. Preserved brass colour inside rim suggests this was high-quality bronze. Present location: Pompeii Collection, CB (inv. no. 5055). Reference: Tassinari 1993: i.145, and ii.198, 402. Discussion: Tassinari suggested (1993: i.232) that such funnels were for table use. According to White (1975: 124), these were used to decant wine from amphorae into lagoenae.
House I 10,8
Authors: Allison Penelope M.
Published: November 2020

The surviving plaster on the walls of this entranceway consisted of a high pink socle, delineated in red, with a white zone above. Ling observed that this overlay an earlier First-Style decoration on the east wall and that it had been patched in antiquity. Breaches are found in both the east and west walls. Outside the entrance, to either side, is a masonry bench (east bench: l.: 2.1 m, d.: 380 mm; west bench: l.: 2.4 m, d.: 460 mm), both much damaged. Finds within the entranceway consisted of bronze and iron studs, undoubtedly from the house door. Remains of plastered decoration survive on the south wall. Elia recorded a yellow dado, surmounted by a red band, with white plaster above. There is a breach in the north-west corner through to Unit no. 9, above a blocked doorway. At the centre of this front hall is a tufa impluvium (2.4 m × 2.1 m). In the north-west corner, 1 m above the pavement, were found: a small bronze ring; a bronze stud, similar to those in the entranceway and probably also from the front door; a fragment of a stone mortar or hand-mill; some glass beads; a small shell; and two bronze quadrantes, one of Nero dated ad 64. The fragmentary or loseable nature of these items suggests that they were disturbed from the ground level. Other small loseable items were found in the north-east corner: a small glass bottle, probably a toilet item; and possibly five more coins. One metre from the west side of the impluvium were found: another part of a hand-mill; two large stone weights; at least fifty-three lead weights, probably from a loom; and two other spherical stones, possibly also weights. The large number of lead weights is comparable with the quantity found under the stairway in room i of the Casa del Principe di Napoli. Another comparable group of forty loom weights was found together in a pit at Zugmantel. As Jongman noted, this amount would be equivalent to that required for one or perhaps two warp-weighted looms. It is therefore commensurate with the existence of such a loom, or looms, in this area, or of replacement loom weights, for domestic use.
Occupancy of Insula I 10 in ad 79
Authors: Allison Penelope M.
Published: November 2020

This chapter summarizes the information that a study of house contents can provide on house occupancy immediately prior to the eruption. In particular, it explores the potential relationship between the number of people within the establishment at that time and the number who might have inhabited it under a concept of ‘normal circumstances’. In other words, the material remains are investigated for evidence that can indicate whether or not the houses and units in this insula were fully occupied and fully functioning, both in terms of the number of people each building would normally accommodate, and the area of the building which would have been utilized under normal conditions. Following Della Corte’s study, which used Pompeian electoral programmata and other inscriptional remains to identify house owners in Pompeii, past scholarship and popular literature have been interested in identifying the actual names of individuals who would have owned Pompeian houses at the time of the eruption. However, many such identifications can be shown to be spurious. As Ling has argued, Della Corte’s identification of the owner of the Casa del Menandro as Q. Poppeaus Sabinus is invalid, as are his identification of the owner of the Casa del Fabbro as M. Volusius Iuvencus, and the owners of House I 10,18 as the Aufidii. With the exception of inscribed amphorae and seals, a study of house contents is unlikely to contribute to this approach to individualized house occupancy. Other scholars have assessed the social and economic status of house owners through the size and decoration of a house, and sometimes its furnishings. For this insula, Ling conjectured that: the owners of the Casa del Menandro were an affluent family, possibly headed by a city magistrate; Unit I 10, 6 was the workshop of a specialist stone-carver; the last householders of the Casa del Fabbro had a more ‘rough and ready’ lifestyle than this house was designed for; House I 10,8 was likely to be the house and workshop of a specialist weaver; and the owners of the Casa degli Amanti seemed to have pretensions above their status.
The Chronological Development of Roman Provincial Coin Iconography
Authors: Heuchert Volker
Published: November 2020

The Aims of this Chapter are to Provide a brief introduction to Roman provincial coinage as background to the book as a whole, and to outline the key developments in Roman provincial coin iconography from a chronological perspective. Geographical diversity will only be touched on here, but emerges strongly from the regional studies within this volume. It is also the main theme of Burnett’s paper which compares the Roman East with the Roman West. This chapter is based mainly on the material contained in the first two volumes of the Roman Provincial Coinage (RPC) series, which cover the Julio- Claudian and Flavian periods from 44 BC to AD 96, and the database of the RPC IV project. The latter embraces the Antonine period, the time from the accession of Antoninus Pius in ad 138 to the death of Commodus in AD 192. Provincial coins from the reigns of Nerva to Hadrian (ad 96–138) and the third century AD have not yet been catalogued systematically. Consequently, their treatment within this chapter can only be impressionistic, and will require refinement and revision once the RPC series has been completed. Readers in search of a more extended, but still impressionistic, treatment of key themes in the iconography of the period from ad 180 onwards are referred to Harl 1987. Finally, many of the examples given in this chapter are deliberately drawn from the rich material from the Roman province of Asia, as this region is not the subject of a dedicated chapter in this book. Types of Roman Provincial Coins and their Characteristics During the three and a half centuries from 44 BC the Roman empire embraced different categories of coinage. Scholars have divided the material into two main groups: ‘Roman imperial coins’ on the one hand and ‘Roman provincial coins’—also known as ‘Greek imperial coins’—on the other. Roman imperial mints produced coins in gold, silver, and ‘bronze’. Roman imperial gold coins (aurei) circulated throughout the empire, with the possible exception of Egypt. Imperial silver coins (denarii) and—from the reign of Caracalla onwards—also radiates or antoniniani increasingly circulated alongside provincial silver in the east.
Information, Legitimation, or Self-Legitimation? Popular and Elite Designs on the Coin Types of Syria
Authors: Butcher Kevin
Published: November 2020

In a Famous Essay ‘Numismatics and History’, A. H. M. Jones suggested that Roman imperial coin types could be compared to the designs on modern postage stamps. The purpose of this analogy was to demonstrate the relative insignificance of types and legends for the study of imperial policy. In doing so, however, he addressed a fundamental problem which is of particular relevance here: What are the meaning(s) of coin types, and who chose the designs? Jones’s comparison was perhaps offered with a slight hint of facetiousness, as a way of debunking the notion that imperial history could be reconstructed from the coin designs alone, yet the analogy does have some merit when considering the meanings of types on Roman provincial coins. These do indeed depict ‘famous men of the country concerned, its artistic monuments … fairs … or … great events in national history’, among other things. The analogy is not intended to mean that the designs were empty or frivolous, or that people could not construct a sense of identity from them. This chapter examines some of the coin types of cities in Syria, to show that not only the more unusual types, but also some of the designs that we might consider generic could have been seen as specific and generated a sense of identity among members of the issuing community. Whether individuals within a community found the same meanings in the designs is a question addressed here. What people understood is crucial to any search for identities. It is suggested that whilst people from outside the community might have understood the types, these designs were not generally intended to convey ‘information’ to outsiders. Some of the types may remain unexplained today because they were perhaps equally obscure to many non-citizens in antiquity. However, unless the issuing authorities and the audience can be clearly identified it will be very difficult to say very much about how the coin types generated a sense of identity, and what sort of identities were generated.
The Insula of the Menander at Pompeii
Authors: Ling Roger , Ling Lesley
Published: November 2020

This volume is the second in a series of five on the Insula (city block) of the Menander at Pompeii. The first (on the structures) and the fourth (on the silver treasure) have already been published; the third (on the objects) and the fifth (on the graffiti) are in preparation. The Insula of the Menander, approximately 3500 sq. m. in area, derives its name from the House of the Menander, one of the best-known dwellings of the ancient city. This was evidently the property of one of Pompeii's leading citizens. Renowned for its architectural grandeur and for the hoard of 110 pieces of silver plate found in a cellar, it also yielded room upon room of splendid wall-paintings and mosaic pavements, ranging in date from the first century BC to the eve of the eruption of AD 79. In addition to this dominant house, the block contains several smaller houses--notably the House of the Lovers and the House of the Craftsman--most of which contain further paintings and pavements of interest. The present volume publishes these decorations in full for the first time. Its importance lies in the fact that it covers the whole block, rather than concentrating upon isolated houses (as most previous volumes have done). This enables the reader not only to look at questions of chronology and iconography room by room and house by house, but also to observe broad patterns of taste and social differentiation within a particular neighborhood of Pompeii.
River Systems and Environmental Change
Authors: Macklin Mark , Woodward Jamie
Published: November 2020

Linking river behaviour and drainage basin evolution to Quaternary environmental change, most notably the effects of climatic variability, tectonics, and human activity on runoff and sediment delivery, has a long history of research in the Mediterranean areas of Europe, North Africa, and the Near East. This field of research was initially stimulated by the (re)discovery at the beginning of the twentieth century of many Classical Period remains buried by river alluvium; perhaps the best known of which is the site of Olympia in western Greece (Huntington 1910). The widespread evidence for large-scale shifts in river channel positions and the rapid growth of deltas and coastal alluvial plains in historical times (Judson 1963; Raphael 1973; Kraft et al. 1980; and Chapter 13) also provided much impetus for this research. In addition, archaeological investigations carried out soon after the Second World War in Algeria (Gaucher 1947), Italy (Selli 1962), Libya (McBurney and Hey 1955) and Spain (Gigout 1959) resulted in the recovery of large numbers of Palaeolithic stone tools from Pleistocene fluvial deposits. These early examples of what has now become more widely known as ‘geoarchaeology’ (Davidson and Shackley 1976; Butzer 1977) or ‘alluvial archaeology’ (Macklin and Needham 1992) were, with their strong interdisciplinary focus, highly innovative and ahead of their time in the way they integrated archaeology, geomorphology, and geochronology. Building on this theme, the principal aim of this chapter is to consider how river systems in the Mediterranean region have responded to the environmental changes that took place during the Late Quaternary–a time interval corresponding approximately to the last 130,000 years. There are a number of reasons for choosing this period for reviewing river-environment interactions in the Mediterranean: 1. It encompasses the last glacial–interglacial cycle (c.130 to 10 ka) for which there is now abundant global evidence from polar ice cores, speleothem records, and lake and marine sediments, for both longand short-term changes in climate. These changes included massive reorganizations of the atmosphere-ocean-cryosphere systems—often over timescales of less than 100 years (Lowe and Walker 1997)—and they are clearly recorded in the Mediterranean region (see Allen et al. 1999 and Chapter 4).
Mapping the Land: Spatializing State Nature
Authors: Whitehead Mark , Jones Rhys , Jones Martin
Published: November 2020

In 1965 it was estimated that Belgium had 607,142 hectares (ha) of forested land, while Finland had 21,800,000 ha (6,500,000 of which were swamp forest). France, meanwhile, had 111,800 ha of swamps and marshes (étang en rapport), compared with the Federal Republic of Germany’s 188,000 ha. Of its total land area of 24,402,000 ha, the UK had 7,541,400 ha of unimproved grazing land being grazed by a staggering 28,967,000 sheep. Further estimates revealed that the Netherlands had 7,990 ha of dunes and 50,700 ha of land designated as muddy flats. Perhaps what is most unusual about these figures is that they don’t appear at all unusual. What, after all, could seem more normal than knowing such detailed statistical facts about a series of modern European states? These figures are actually taken from a World Land Use Survey, which was conducted in collaboration by a series of states during the middle of the twentieth century. Despite their seemingly routine character, however, what interests us about these figures are the links they reveal between nature, the state, and space (or more specifically land). The figures presented above have two things in common: first, they are all statistics about the natural world, which have been organized through specific reference to nation-states (France, Belgium, the UK); and secondly, they all (with the exception of the statistics on British sheep) describe nature by making reference to its spatial form—or more accurately its extent (hectares of marsh, forest, dune, etc.). This association between nature and land is, we argue, a significant one. We claim that historically the idea of land has provided different nation-states with a mechanism for making sense of nature and for ordering it spatially. In light of the historical perspective on nature–state relationships provided by Chapter 3, this chapter analyses how state–nature interactions are mediated and played out within space. While recognizing the diverse range of ways in which state–nature relations have been spatialized over time, here we focus our attention on one crucial site of state nature—the land-use map.
Aeolian Environments
Authors: Koster Eduard
Published: November 2020

The literature on aeolian processes and on aeolian morphological and sedimentological features has shown a dramatic increase during the last decade. A variety of textbooks, extensive reviews, and special issues of journal volumes devoted to aeolian research have been published (Nordstrom et al. 1990; Pye and Tsoar 1990; Kozarski 1991; Pye 1993; Pye and Lancaster 1993; Cooke et al. 1993; Lancaster 1995; Tchakerian 1995; Livingstone and Warren 1996; Goudie et al. 1999). However, not surprisingly the majority of these studies discuss aeolian processes and phenomena in the extensive warm arid regions of the world. The results of aeolian research in the less extensive, but still impressive, cold arid environments of the world are only available in a diversity of articles. At best they are only briefly mentioned in textbooks on aeolian geomorphology (Koster 1988, 1995; McKenna-Neuman 1993). Likewise, the literature with respect to wind-driven deposits in western Europe is scattered and not easily accessible. The aeolian geological record for Europe, as reflected in the ‘European sand belt’ in the north-western and central European Lowlands, which extends from Britain to the Polish–Russian border, is known in great detail (Koster 1988; van Geel et al. 1989; Böse 1991). Zeeberg (1998) showed that extensive aeolian deposits progress with two separate arms into the Baltic Region, and into Belorussia and northernmost Ukraine. Recently, Mangerud et al. (1999) concluded that the sand belt extends even to the Pechora lowlands close to the north-western border of the Ural mountain range in Russia. Sand dunes and cover sands are widespread and well developed in this easternmost extension of the European sand belt. The northerly edges of this sand belt more or less coincide with the maximal position of the Late Weichselian (Devensian, Vistulian) ice sheet, while the southern edges grade into coverloams or sandy loess and loess (Mücher 1986; Siebertz 1988; Antoine et al. 1999). However, along these southern edges the dune fields and sand sheets regionally are derived from different sources, such as the sands of the Keuper Formation or the floodplains of the Rhine and Main rivers.
Uneven Geographical Developments
Authors: Harvey David
Published: November 2020

A moving map of the progress of neoliberalization on the world stage since 1970 would be hard to construct. To begin with, most states that have taken the neoliberal turn have done so only partially–– the introduction of greater flexibility into labour markets here, a deregulation of financial operations and embrace of monetarism there, a move towards privatization of state-owned sectors somewhere else. Wholesale changes in the wake of crises (such as the collapse of the Soviet Union) can be followed by slow reversals as the unpalatable aspects of neoliberalism become more evident. And in the struggle to restore or establish a distinctive upper-class power all manner of twists and turns occur as political powers change hands and as the instruments of influence are weakened here or strengthened there. Any moving map would therefore feature turbulent currents of uneven geographical development that need to be tracked in order to understand how local transformations relate to broader trends. Competition between territories (states, regions, or cities) as to who had the best model for economic development or the best business climate was relatively insignificant in the 1950s and 1960s. Competition of this sort heightened in the more fluid and open systems of trading relations established after 1970. The general progress of neoliberalization has therefore been increasingly impelled through mechanisms of uneven geographical developments. Successful states or regions put pressure on everyone else to follow their lead. Leapfrogging innovations put this or that state (Japan, Germany, Taiwan, the US, or China), region (Silicon Valley, Bavaria, Third Italy, Bangalore, the Pearl River delta, or Botswana), or even city (Boston, San Francisco, Shanghai, or Munich) in the vanguard of capital accumulation. But the competitive advantages all too often prove ephemeral, introducing an extraordinary volatility into global capitalism. Yet it is also true that powerful impulses of neoliberalization have emanated, and even been orchestrated, from a few major epicentres. Clearly, the UK and the US led the way. But in neither country was the turn unproblematic. While Thatcher could successfully privatize social housing and the public utilities, core public services such as the national health-care system and public education remained largely immune.
Cave Archaeology and Palaeontology in the Creswell Region
Authors: Chamberlain Andrew T.
Published: November 2020

The aim of this chapter is to situate the unique discoveries of cave art at the Creswell Crags caves in the context of what is known of the cave archaeology and palaeontology of the caves of the southern Magnesian Limestone outcrop. The long history of archaeological research at Creswell Crags and the spectacular discoveries that continue to be made in the Creswell caves have tended to overshadow the widespread though less prominent distribution of cave archaeological sites along the limestone outcrop to the north and south of Creswell, a region known as the Creswell Crags Limestone Heritage Area (Mills 2001). Recent audits of the archaeology of the region have drawn attention to the large number of cave sites within the Limestone Heritage Area as well as the considerable potential that these sites have for further research into the history of Ice Age people and their environments (Mills 2001; Davies et al. 2004).While the focus of this chapter is on the Pleistocene deposits and Palaeolithic artefacts that have been preserved in the region’s caves, fissures, and rock shelters, these sites were used throughout prehistory by humans and animals and they contain much important cultural and environmental evidence for these later time periods after the end of the last Ice Age. Creswell Crags is located in the southern part of the Magnesian Limestone, a geological term for deposits of Upper Permian age that includes a series of formations of well-bedded oolitic to dolomitic limestones. The Magnesian Limestone forms a narrow north–south oriented outcrop that runs from near Nottingham in the south to the North Sea coast near Tynemouth in the north (Fig. 6.1). About 30 km to the west of the southern part of the Magnesian Limestone is the older Carboniferous Limestone outcrop of the White Peak, which, like the Magnesian Limestone, contains many archaeological caves. The southern part of the Magnesian Limestone outcrop, between Doncaster and Mansfield, is cut through by a series of vales and gorges which expose caves, fissures, and rockshelters along the cliff lines.
Toward a Holy Grail
Authors: Dasgupta Subrata
Published: November 2020

Sometime between 1936 and 1946, there was a change in etymology, at least in the English language. The word computer came to mean the machine not the man. Old habits, of course, die hard. And so, such terms as automatic calculating machines and computing machines remained in common use, along with the cautious adoption of computer, until the end of the 1940s. But at the beginning of that war-ravaged, bomb-splattered decade, George Stibitz (1904–1995), a mathematical physicist working for Bell Telephone Laboratories in New Jersey, wrote a memorandum on a machine he and his colleague Samuel B. Williams had built in which computer unequivocally meant a machine. Indeed, they named their creation the Complex Computer because it was designed to perform arithmetic operations on complex numbers—computations necessary in the design of telephone networks, which was Bell’s forte. There was, of course, much more happening in the realm of computing than a change in the meaning of a word. Computers were actually being built, increasingly more complex, more ambitious in scope, more powerful, faster, and physically larger than the punched-card machines that largely dominated automatic calculation. They were being built in at least three countries: America, Germany, and England. These machines, developed in different centers of research, formed evolutionary families, in the sense that machine X built at a particular center gave rise to machine X + 1 as its successor. The word “evolution” carries with it much baggage. Here, I am speaking not of biological evolution by natural selection à la Darwin, but cultural evolution. The latter differs from the former in a fundamental way: biological evolution is not driven by goal or purpose; cultural evolution is always goal driven. In the realm of computers—artifacts, therefore part of culture—for example, a goal is established by the designers/engineers or potential client, and a machine is built that (one hopes) satisfies the goal. If it does satisfy the goal, then well and good (at least for a time); otherwise, a new effort will be initiated that strives to correct the flaws and errors of the earlier machine.
“The Best Way to Design . . .”
Authors: Dasgupta Subrata
Published: November 2020

In February 1951, the Ferranti Mark I was delivered to the University of Manchester. This was the commercial “edition” of the Manchester Mark I (see Chapter 8, Section XIII), the product of a collaboration between town and gown, the former being the Manchester firm of Ferranti Limited. It became (by a few months) the world’s first commercially available digital computer (followed in June 1951 by the “Universal Automatic Computer” [UNIVAC], developed by the Eckert-Mauchly Computer Corporation). The Ferranti Mark I was unveiled formally at an inaugural conference held in Manchester, June 9 to 12, 1951. At this conference, Maurice Wilkes delivered a lecture titled “The Best Way to Design an Automatic Calculating Machine.” This conference is probably (perhaps unfairly) more known because of Wilkes’s lecture than for its primary focus, the Ferranti Mark I. For during this lecture, Wilkes announced a new approach to the design of a computer’s control unit called microprogramming, which would be massively consequential in the later evolution of computers. Wilkes’s lecture also marked something else: the search for order, structure, and simplicity in the design of computational artifacts; and an attendant concern for, a preoccupation with, the design process itself in the realm of computational artifacts. We have already seen the first manifestations of this concern with the design process in the Goldstine-von Neumann invention of a flow diagram notation for beginning the act of computer programming (see Chapter 9, Section III), and in David Wheeler’s and Stanley Gill’s discussions of a method for program development (Chapter 10, Section IV). Wilkes’s lecture was notable for “migrating” this concern into the realm of the physical computer itself. We recall that, in May 1949, the Cambridge EDSAC became fully operational (see Chapter 8, Section XIII). The EDSAC was a serial machine in that reading from or writing into memory was done 1 bit at a time (bit serial) ; and, likewise, the arithmetic unit performed its operations in a bit-by-bit fashion. Soon after the EDSAC’s completion, while others in his laboratory were busy refining the programming techniques and exploring its use in scientific applications (see Chapter 9, Sections V–VIII; and Chapter 10), Wilkes became preoccupied with issues of regularity and complexity in computer design and their relation to reliability.
Research Design, Scoping Tools, and Preview
Authors: Araújo Kathleen
Published: November 2020

This chapter outlines the design of the current study. It discusses my underlying logic for scoping energy system change with theory-building in the form of (1) a framework on intervention that operationalizes insights from the previous chapter and (2) conceptual models of structural readiness. A brief review then follows of related, global developments to provide broader context for the cases. The chapter concludes with a preview of the transitions that will be discussed in depth in subsequent chapters. This book draws on my research of four national energy system transitions covering the period since 1970. I selected a timeframe that reflected a common context of international events which preceded as well as followed the oil shocks of 1973 and 1979. Such framing allowed me to trace policy and technology learning over multiple decades for different cases. I completed field work for this project primarily between 2010 and 2012, with updates continuing through to the time this book went to press. I selected cases from more than 100 countries in the International Energy Agency (IEA) databases. The ones that I chose represented countries which demonstrated an increase of 100% or more in domestic production of a specific, low carbon energy and the displacement of at least 15 percentage points in the energy mix by this same, low carbon energy relative to traditional fuels for the country and sector of relevance. I utilized adoption and displacement metrics to consider both absolute and relative changes. Final cases reflect a diversity of energy types and, to some extent, differences in the socio-economic and geographic attributes of the countries. The technologies represent some of the more economically-competitive substitutes for fossil fuels. It’s important to emphasize that the number of cases was neither exhaustive nor fully representative. Instead, the cases reflect an illustrative group of newer, low carbon energy technologies for in depth evaluation. Each of the cases shares certain, basic similarities. These include a national energy system comprised of actors, inputs, and outputs with systemic architecture connecting the constituent parts in a complex network of energy-centered flows over time—including extraction, production, sale, delivery, regulation, and consumption.
Long-Term Ecological Research in the Arctic: Where Science Never Sleeps
Authors: Hobbie John E.
Published: November 2020

When the Arctic (ARC) Long-Term Ecological Research (LTER) project began, I was an aquatic ecologist with experience in managing large projects in freshwaters and estuaries and a specialization in microbes. This project, which studies lakes, streams, and tundras, has greatly increased my breadth as an ecologist and allowed me to take part in terrestrial modeling, microbial studies in streams, and the role of soil mycorrhizal fungi in providing nutrients to many species of plants. As a mentor to several postdoctoral fellows, my LTER research has enabled me to learn about other fields such as the application of molecular biology to microbial ecology. The Arctic LTER project data, the long-term field experiments, and the facilities available at the University of Alaska field station brought me in contact with ecologists from many countries. One result of this association with experts was my coauthorship of a book on Arctic natural history aimed at communicating scientific knowledge to scientists and the general public unfamiliar with the Arctic (Huryn and Hobbie 2012). I have always collaborated extensively with many scientists and encouraged collaboration as the best way to carry out ecosystem research. The Arctic LTER project brought many opportunities to broaden the scope of my collaboration to include terrestrial ecologists and microbiologists. My PhD research was about year-round primary productivity of an Arctic lake but while on a postdoctoral fellowship at Uppsala University, Sweden, I switched to an emphasis on bacterial uptake kinetics in lakes. The techniques I helped develop in freshwater worked in the ocean and estuaries too (Hobbie and Williams 1984). In addition we developed the epifluorescence method for quantifying the abundance of planktonic bacteria. Our paper (Hobbie, Daley, and Jasper 1977) finally convinced oceanographers that bacteria are abundant (at 10⁹ per liter) and important. Recently, I have used my understanding of kinetics of uptake to analyze microbial activity in the soil. My Arctic expertise led to leadership of the aquatic part of the International Biological Program (IBP) at Barrow, Alaska, beginning in 1970. We (28 scientists, graduate students, and postdoctoral fellows) studied shallow ponds to quantify the carbon, nitrogen, and phosphorus cycles.
Of Fish and Platypus: If You Could Ask a Fish What It Feels Like to Swim
Authors: Grove J. Morgan
Published: November 2020

I was in the first cohort of scientists who was specifically trained in long-term, socioecological research. My cohort may have a “disciplinary home,” but we are less likely to be exclusive to a single discipline. My research requires diverse approaches and skill sets that address the spatial, organizational, and temporal complexity of human ecosystems. Donald Stokes identifies several categories of research, including (1) pure basic research, (2) pure applied research, and (3) use-inspired basic research. Most of my research and the research from Baltimore Ecosystem Study (BES) is use-inspired basic research, which is intended to advance both science and decision making. Collaborative research is not for everyone. My collaborative research in BES is more like playing in a jazz ensemble than a regimented orchestra. My participation in the BES Long Term Ecological Research (LTER) project has fostered lifelong friendships that are multigenerational. I imagine that if I could ask a fish what it feels like to swim, it would be puzzled. It has never known any other way of being than to swim. Likewise, I am puzzled when asked what it is like to work on an LTER project. I have never known any other type of research program. Furthermore, the project I work on, the BES, is quite different from all but one of the other US LTER projects. It is an urban site and was designed to be interdisciplinary from its conception. Perhaps I am being asked what it is like to be a platypus. (The platypus is a strange mammal that has a duck-like bill, beaver tail, otter feet; that lays eggs; and that carries venom. When the platypus was first encountered by Europeans in the late 1790s, a pelt and sketch were sent back to Great Britain. British scientists thought initially that the evidence provided was a hoax.) How did I come to have such a bizarre combination of traits and how does it feel? In this essay, I try to answer these questions by describing my professional training and experience working as a co–principal investigator and the lead for the social science research team for the BES for the past 17 years.
An Anthropologist Joins the Long-Term Ecological Research Network
Authors: Gragson Ted L.
Published: November 2020

Environmental science has no room for theoretical or methodological hegemony, and questions cannot be asked in the absence of purposeful design. Education must simultaneously engage students in thinking and doing, ideally in collaboration. Communication is a two-way process in which scientists are challenged to be credible and legitimate in conveying salient results to diverse audiences. Collaboration is about leveraging individual skills toward a common purpose, which can only succeed when trust exists between investigators. I was trained as an ecological anthropologist with an emphasis on behavioral and ecosystem ecology at the University of Montana and the Pennsylvania State University. I have conducted archaeological, behavioral, cultural, and historical research throughout the western and the southeastern United States, as well as in several countries in lowland South America, the Dominican Republic, and southern France. Currently, I am professor and head of the Department of Anthropology at the University of Georgia. In 1997, I was invited to join the Long-Term Ecological Research (LTER) program at the Coweeta site (CWT). CWT is based in the eastern deciduous forest of the southern Appalachian Mountains, and I was brought in to collaborate on regionalization of what had been exclusively a site-based project. Just prior to joining CWT, I had been involved for several years in regional conservation activities in Paraguay and Bolivia. Since 2002, I have served as principal investigator of CWT, leading the successful grant renewal efforts in 2002 and 2008. I recently completed the 2014 renewal effort, which was successful. There has been a dramatic shift over the period of my involvement in the LTER program in attitudes within the network to regionalization and participation by scientists from disciplines other than ecology (Gragson and Grove 2006; Robertson et al. 2012). Several colleagues and I have helped to foster this shift through our involvement on the LTER Social Science Standing Committee (1998–present), leadership in the LTER planning activities (2004–2007), and service on the LTER Executive Board (2008–2011). My experiences in the LTER program have influenced my ideas about the nature and conduct of environmental research.