bluuebunny/crossref_metadata_2025 huggingface dataset:
Religious-Cultural Identity in Thrace and Moesia Inferior
Authors: Peter Ulrike
Published: November 2020

The Beauty and Attractions of Philippopolis, named after Philip II, king of Macedonia, praised in this poetical manner by Lucian, were also celebrated on its coinage in Roman times. Hence the river Hebrus, navigable up to Philippopolis in antiquity, was often depicted on coins; on Hadrianic coins it was even named (pl. 8.1, 1). Its great importance for the city is further reflected in the common illustrations of the river-god and the city-goddess (pl. 8.1, 2). And one coin with the river-god also shows other sources of wealth for the city: little genii are depicted representing agriculture and mining (pl. 8.1, 3). While the AIMOΣ, depicted only on coins of Nicopolis ad Istrum, is shown as a male personification (in the form of a young hunter), the smaller mountains of Rhodope, situated near Philippopolis, are depicted as a charming female figure with an explanatory legend (POΔOΠH) on coins of Philippopolis 108(pl. 8.1, 4). In addition, the three hills which formed the acropolis of the city (which, as a consequence, was called Trimontium in Roman times), and are known today as Nebet-, Džambaz-, and Taximtepe, were depicted (singly or all together) on coins of Philippopolis (pl. 8.1, 5). Sometimes even the other hills of the city (which are said to have been seven in all) can be seen on the coins. So a statue of Heracles, situated on a hill, supposedly represented the second highest elevation of the city, the Bundardžika (pl. 8.1, 6). The pictures of these hills are combined with appropriate buildings—temples, statues, aqueducts— on the coins (pl. 8.1, 7). It is clear that such illustrations conveyed a specific image of the city and the landscape, and were intended to show essential aspects of the common identity of the Philippopolites. As a consequence they give a good insight into the processes of acculturation which led to the formation or change of identities. They show how indigenous, local, or regional traditions, myths, and stories of origins were conserved or changed. They also inform us about the adaptation of foreign influences (for example, the taking over and/or integration of foreign deities in the local pantheon) or the resistance against such influences. Such central aspects of ‘Coinage and Identity’ will be studied in detail in this chapter, with special regard to Thrace and Moesia Inferior.
Pergamum as Paradigm
Authors: Weisser Bernhard
Published: November 2020

The Editors of this Book Requested a study of an individual city to contrast with the broader regional surveys. This contribution attempts to demonstrate the advantages of a fuller exploration of the specific context of a civic coinage by focusing on selected issues from the coinage of Pergamum— alongside Ephesus and Smyrna one of the three largest cities in the Western part of Asia Minor. In the Julio-Claudian period Pergamum’s coin designs were dominated by the imperial succession and the city’s first neocorate temple (17 bc–ad 59). In ad 59 Pergamum’s coinage stopped for more than two decades. When it resumed under Domitian (ad 83) new topics were continuously introduced until the reign of Caracalla (ad 211–17). These included gods, cults, heroes, personifications, architecture, sculpture, games, and civic titles. After Caracalla the city concentrated on a few key images, such as Asclepius or the emperor. At the same time, coin legends— especially civic titles—gained greater importance. This trend continued until the city’s coinage came to an end under Gallienus (ad 253–68). The overall range of Pergamum’s coin iconography was broadly similar to that of other cities in the East of the Roman empire. Coins of Pergamum from the imperial period fall into (at least) sixty-four issues, the most diverse of which employed twenty different coin types. In all, around 340 different types are currently known. They provide a solid base from which to explore various relationships. These include the relationship between coin obverses and reverses, as well as the place of an individual coin type within its own issue, and within the city’s coinage as a whole. Coin designs could allude to objects and events within Pergamum itself, or focus on the city’s connections with the outside world: with small neighbouring cities, with the other great cities within the province of Asia, or with Rome and the imperial family. Communication via the medium of civic coinage was in the first instance presumably directed towards the citizens of Pergamum. At the same time coinage also reflected developments outside the city. Social and geographical mobility was encouraged by an imperial system which allowed distinguished members of local elites access to the highest military and administrative posts.
City Eras on Palestinian Coinage
Authors: Kushnir-Stein Alla
Published: November 2020

Thirty-Eight Palestinian Cities Minted coins at various times during the Hellenistic and Roman periods. The vast majority of these coins bear dates, with the bulk of the dates involving individual city eras. During the third century bc, royal Ptolemaic silver was struck in several urban centres on the Palestinian coast. The coinage from Ptolemais, Joppe, and Gaza was fairly substantial and most of it was dated by the regnal years of the kings. One undated silver coin has also been attributed to Dora. On these Ptolemaic issues the cities are represented only by monograms. Palestine came under Seleucid control c.200 bc, after its final conquest by Antiochus III. From the reign of Antiochus IV (175–164) onwards, there are both royal and city coinages, the latter mostly of bronze. The dates which appear on many of these coins use the Seleucid era of 312 bc. As in the preceding century, only coastal cities were involved: Ptolemais, Ascalon, Gaza, and Demetrias. The location of the last city is not known for certain, but an identification with Strato’s Tower, later rebuilt by Herod as Caesarea, seems possible. There is more information about the cities themselves on these second-century coins. Royal issues often bear the names of cities as well as specific symbols, like the dove in Ascalon or the Phoenician mem in Gaza. City-coinage proper further mentions Seleucid dynastic names, like that of Seleucia for Gaza or Antioch for Ptolemais; we would not have known about these dynastic names if not for their appearance on these coins. In the last quarter of the second century, new titles, ‘sacred and inviolable’, appear on coins of Ptolemais, Ascalon, and Gaza. The first individual city eras were established in this region at the very end of the second century bc, with the earliest material evidence belonging to the beginning of the first century: Ascalon, coin of year 6 (99/98 bc); Gaza, coins of years 13 and 14 (96/95, 95/94 or slightly later); Ptolemais, coin of year 9 (apparently from the first decade of the first century bc). In Ascalon and Ptolemais the new era appears together with the addition of the title ‘autonomous’.
I. 10. 4: CASA DEL MENANDRO
Authors: Ling Roger , Ling Lesley
Published: November 2020

In its Final form, the CASA Del Menandro was adorned with decorations which can be ascribed (leaving aside a few which are too simple or too damaged to be classified at all) to the late Second and Fourth Styles (see Figs. 2–3). Remains from other phases will be considered in the next section but none of these were visible in AD 79. The First Style pavements and painted stuccowork in the rooms excavated beneath the floor of room 18 (Figs. 27B, 64; Pl. 1) had of course been buried before AD 79, and they probably belonged to a separate house anyway. A piece of a First (or early Second) Style dado carrying a curtain motif, preserved inside the cupboard 10 (Fig. 27A), belongs to a phase when this space was a passage; it would have been out of sight in subsequent periods. Other remains of similarly early phases in the atrium area are chance survivals beneath later plaster. The only remnant of a Third Style decoration (Fig. 93B; Pl. 15) is on a fragment of plaster found (probably) in the pit in passage P1; and it clearly derives from a painted scheme which had been dismantled before the final years. All that was visible in 79, then, was work from the third quarter of the first century BC and the third quarter of the first century AD—what we have classified in terms of the structural history as the end of Phase 3 and Phase 5. The late-Second Style paintings and stuccoes are confined to the southern arm of the peristyle and the bath-suite. In the peristyle there is a relatively well-preserved painted scheme of trees seen through arched openings on the walls of exedra 25 (Col. Pl. 39; Figs. 77– 9) and a stucco decoration with birds in spiralling acanthus tendrils in the semi-dome of exedra 24 (Fig. 89D; Col. Pl. 38; Pl. 13); it appears that a similar stucco decoration adorned the semi-dome of exedra 22, but only a fragment of this survives.
I. 10. 11: CASA DEGLI AMANTI
Authors: Ling Roger , Ling Lesley
Published: November 2020

The Surviving Decorations of the Casa degli Amanti belong primarily to the Fourth Style, but there are glimpses of a Second Style phase, dated around the third quarter of the first century BC, as well as some evidence for the division of the Fourth Style decorations into a very early (transitional Third to Fourth) and late (post-earthquake) phase. Second Style paintings—a simple scheme of black orthostates with yellow margins surmounted by a frieze containing a vegetal scroll—occur only in the fauces (Figs. 125–6; Pl. 97, at left), deliberately preserved when the decoration of the atrium was renewed at the time of the Fourth Style. Decorated pavements of the same phase can be identified in I.10.10 and room 19, in both cases apparently overlaid by later, plainer paving, as well as in the ala or exedra (6) opening off the south side of the atrium, and round the rim of the atrium’s impluvium (Fig. 127). In all cases the decoration consists of tesserae set in cocciopesto, either in lines forming a lozenge grid (Pl. 99) or in rows of little crosslets. The front part of the pavement of room 8, a lavapesta with a scattering of white, black, and green stones, may also go back to this time. To the late Third or early-Fourth Style we must assign the wall-paintings of the peristyle, a simple white-ground scheme with hanging objects (vessels and musical instruments) combined with garlands and tiny purple-red panels containing pairs of ducks (Figs. 148–53; Pls. 88– 91). These are likely to have been carried out when the upper storey was added. It is also possible that the paintings of room 10 (black dado, main zone with a central columnar aedicula and cinnabar-red side-Welds containing flying birds, white upper zone with rectilinear frameworks: Figs. 155–8; Pl. 92) were applied at this time, since their handling shows a delicacy and restraint much closer to the Third Style than that of the neighbouring rooms 11 and 12. The decorated pavement of the upstairs dining-room in the east wing, above rooms 11 and 12 (Figs. 168, 176), may be ascribed to the same development, as may the pavements in the east wing of the peristyle (Fig. 147; Pls. 85–6) and in two of the rooms opening off it (rooms 10 and 11: Fig. 154; Pls. 87, 92).
I. 10. 8
Authors: Ling Roger , Ling Lesley
Published: November 2020

Apart from a First Style Pavement and traces of First Style wall-decorations in the front part of the house, the only decorations attested in house 8 are two of the Third Stylewhich were evidently about to be replaced and two of the Fourth Style (one of which is now largely lost). The bulk of the rooms contain, at best, plain mortar pavements and plain wall-plaster. There are remains of First Style wall-decorations beneath later plain plaster in the fauces and room 2, while Elia refers to a yellow socle in the same style on the south wall of the atrium (see Vol. I, p. 186). None of the surviving fragments (which include part of a stucco cornice in room 2) is sufficient to provide any real notion of the decorative syntax. The only pavement that is likely to belong to the First Style phase is that of room 2, which consisted of patterns of white tesserae set in cocciopesto: a lozenge grid along the threshold and a central mat of meander (swastikas alternating with squares) surrounded by a semis of single tesserae. All these elements are typical of the First Style (the meander mat and semis surround can be paralleled in the First Style rooms buried under room 18 in the Casa del Menandro: see pp. 6–7 and Fig. 64). The lozenge and meander patterns, known from Elia’s description, have now perished, along with the bulk of the pavement, but fragments of the semis survive on the west side and reveal that the size of the tesserae (mostly from 5 mm. to 1 cm. across) and their spacing (5 cm.) conform with measurements found in other examples of this type of pavement ascribed to the time of the First Style. One interesting detail is that, in addition to the inset tesserae, the surface of this pavement shows traces of a coat of red paint. Assuming that the pavement goes back to the First Style, we can here accept Pernice’s suggestion that such colour-enhancement represents a later intervention designed to improve the appearance of pavements that had become worn.
MINOR HOUSES
Authors: Ling Roger , Ling Lesley
Published: November 2020

The Remaining Dwellings with Decorated pavements and wall-plaster are all small (ground floor areas of 125 sq. m. or less), and the surviving decorations barely adequate to justify conclusions about the function and meaning of spaces. At least one house (I.10.18) shows signs of having suffered a decline of living standards, in that its last-phase paintings mark a clear lapse in quality and ambition in relation to their surviving predecessors: there is, as a result, a disparity between the relative richness of the paintings and the relative importance of the spaces interpreted in terms of the normal patterns of house usage. Such anomalies, when combined with the almost total absence of figure subjects, make it difficult to investigate questions of taste among householders. Still less, given the defective nature of the evidence, is it possible to look at such questions in diachronic terms. For these reasons we shall deal with the remaining properties in a more summary fashion than the houses discussed in earlier chapters, and we shall tend to focus on the situation in the final phase. The decorations of this house are divided into two clearly defined groups. There are more or less complete Third Style decorations in the rooms on the axis of the street entrance (the so-called ‘atrium’ and ‘tablinum’), and fragmentary remains of what were probably Fourth Style paintings in the rooms to the east, including those of the upper storey. The only decorated pavements are those of rooms 1 and 3 (the so-called ‘atrium’ and ‘tablinum’); these consist of continuous cocciopesto inset with small chips of white stone and a few larger and irregularly spaced pieces of white and coloured marbles (a grey marble—either Hymettan or bardiglio scuro), portasanta (or africano?), and giallo antico), punctuated by a band of scattered white tesserae between the responds which mark the division between the two spaces. The types of marble, and datable material built into the stair-base against which the pavement abuts, point to a date no earlier than the first century AD, and it is likely that the pavements belong to the same decorative programme as the Third Stylewall-paintings of the two rooms.
Introduction. The Problematic: Territorial State, International Capital, and Uneven Industrial Development in Thailand
Authors: Glassman Jim
Published: November 2020

Thailand presents a vexingly ‘hybrid’ image of both success and failure. A lay reader of journalistic and academic literature on Thai development could readily be excused for concurring with the opinion of renowned Thai scholar David Wilson, who long ago insisted ‘What damn good is this country—you can’t compare it to anything!’ (Anderson 1978: 193). Indeed, so contradictory are the varying images of the country and the events taking place within it that it often seems Thailand can’t even be compared to itself. This sense of identity crisis has only been heightened by the economic crisis that began in 1996. What had been one of Asia’s miracle economies led the region into bust, leaving many analysts gasping for air. Thus, as the twenty-first century begins, and we look back on the events of the past century, there is a sense of urgency and contentiousness surrounding a very basic question that one might have already expected to be answered: what exactly is this multifaceted and volatile phenomenon called ‘development’ in Thailand, and why does it generate such diverse evaluations? To be sure, some of the contention is due to non-negotiable differences in political perspectives. Yet even granting this, there seems to be less agreement about how to assess development in Thailand than development in many other places. For example, few South Korea scholars, of whatever persuasion, disagree that the country exhibited remarkable and sustained economic growth in recent decades, that this has at least laid the foundations for significant improvements in overall standards of living for most of the population, or that in spite of the crisis the Korean political economy still has substantial potential for further development. Nor, for that matter, do many people disagree that the development process in South Korea was driven forward by an authoritarian state and that issues such as social justice and environmental sustainability must still be addressed. In contrast, interpreters of Thailand’s development experience seem to disagree about such fundamental issues as the importance of state involvement in the process, the degree of well-being which it has bequeathed to the general population, and the future prospects of development.
Interpreting Post-World War II Development in Thailand: More and Less than a National Phenomenon
Authors: Glassman Jim
Published: November 2020

The processes of internationalization and political economic transformation described in the previous chapters help explain the specific character of recent industrial development in Thailand. Capital accumulation in Thailand has been centred heavily on Bangkok and has favoured a stratum of ruling elites who are disproportionately represented in the capital. The Bangkok-centric political economy has been tightly linked—indeed, over a very long period of time—with broader regional and international processes of capital accumulation, and the Thai elites have been successful at using international connections to buttress their social positions and control. Bangkok elites, in particular, have been able to utilize international support to strengthen a project of Bangkok sub-imperialism, which has in turn brought various local elites from outside Bangkok into national and international coalitions. All of this has consequences for the results of economic growth and industrial transformation in Thailand. Until the economic meltdown that began in 1996, Thailand’s GDP growth record was one of the most impressive in the world since World War II, and the country was included by the World Bank among the ‘miracle’ economies of East Asia (World Bank 1993), while being lauded by others as ‘the Fifth Tiger’ (Muscat 1994) and as a new entrant into the ranks of the NICs (Jansen 1991). At the same time, Thailand has become one of the more inegalitarian countries in the world, in terms of income distribution (Medhi 1996; Voravidh 1996) and displays a dramatic spatial skew in the distribution of economic activities. There have also been numerous social and environmental problems connected with industrial development in Thailand, along with various political indignities to the general population (Bello, Cunningham, and Poh 1998)—problems that can be seen alternatively as ‘the strains of success’ (UNIDO 1992) or as symptoms of ‘maldevelopment’ (Suthy 1991). To some extent, each of these images of success and failure correspond to a definite reality of the complex development process, neither of which by itself adequately summarizes the totality. What I focus on in this chapter, however, is not the multifaceted complexity per se but rather the connections between what are regarded as the success and failure stories.
Uneven Economic Crisis, Industrial Restructuring, and the Politics of Development in a Post-Nationalist Era
Authors: Glassman Jim
Published: November 2020

Up until 1996, the interpretation of Thailand as something at least akin to an economic ‘miracle’ was hegemonic, and the analysis offered here has not so much attempted to challenge this interpretation on its own terms as to offer an alternative interpretation that recognizes why Thailand’s rapid industrialization process can be considered simultaneously a success in capitalist terms and a highly troubled process from other perspectives. The economic events that began in 1996, however, have considerably tarnished the mainstream image of Thailand as a ‘new little dragon’ and have called into question the notion that Thailand’s development has been an unquestionable capitalist success story. The framework I have presented for analysing Thailand’s uneven and contradictory success story can also be used to analyse the dynamics that are at work in the recent bout of economic bust, partial recovery, and post-crisis political manoeuvring. In this chapter, then, I round out the discussion of Thailand’s uneven industrial transformation and the role of the Thai state in this process by suggesting how the dialectically conceived internationalization processes discussed earlier might help to explain the nature of the contemporary economic crisis and the economic challenges that lie ahead. More specifically, I offer here an alternative to the dominant explanations of the Thai economic crisis, which have tended to focus narrowly either on corruption and lack of transparency in the functioning of Thai institutions (the dominant line of analysis emanating from the West and neo-liberals) or on international forces beyond the control of the Thai state, such as currency traders and IMF measures (a prominent line of analysis in much of Southeast Asia and among neo-Weberians). While these lines of analysis vary in where they place the blame for the Thai crisis, they share the view that the crisis is primarily financial and does not reflect deep, underlying structural problems in either the Thai pattern of industrial growth or the place of small industrial exporting countries in the global economy. The analysis I offer here differs from both types of views on a number of counts.
Tsunamis
Authors: Papadopoulos Gerassimos
Published: November 2020

According to Imamura (1937: 123), the term tunami or tsunami is a combination of the Japanese word tu (meaning a port) and nami (a long wave), hence long wave in a harbour. He goes on to say that the meaning might also be defined as a seismic sea-wave since most tsunamis are produced by a sudden dip-slip motion along faults during major earthquakes. Other submarine or coastal phenomena, however, such as volcanic eruptions, landslides, and gas escapes, are also known to cause tsunamis. According to Van Dorn (1968), ‘tsunami’ is the Japanese name for the gravity wave system formed in the sea following any large-scale, short-duration disturbance of the free surface. Tsunamis fall under the general classification of long waves. The length of the waves is of the order of several tens or hundreds of kilometres and tsunamis usually consist of a series of waves that approach the coast with periods ranging from 5 to 90 minutes (Murty 1977). Some commonly used terms that describe tsunami wave propagation and inundation are illustrated in Figure 17.2. Because of the active lithospheric plate convergence, the Mediterranean area is geodynamically characterized by significant volcanism and high seismicity as discussed in Chapters 15 and 16 respectively. Furthermore, coastal and submarine landslides are quite frequent and this is partly in response to the steep terrain of much of the basin (Papadopoulos et al. 2007a). Tsunamis are among the most remarkable phenomena associated with earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, and landslides in the Mediterranean basin. Until recently, however, it was widely believed that tsunamis either did not occur in the Mediterranean Sea, or they were so rare that they did not pose a threat to coastal communities. Catastrophic tsunamis are more frequent on Pacific Ocean coasts where both local and transoceanic tsunamis have been documented (Soloviev 1970). In contrast, large tsunami recurrence in the Mediterranean is of the order of several decades and the memory of tsunamis is short-lived. Most people are only aware of the extreme Late Bronge Age tsunami that has been linked to the powerful eruption of Thera volcano in the south Aegean Sea (Marinatos 1939; Chapter 15).
Urbanization in Kingston since Independence
Authors: Clarke Colin
Published: November 2020

The enactment of Jamaica’s independence in Kingston on 6 August 1962 did not sweep away the colonial structures that had been put in place for the previous three centuries. Constitutional change had been taking place since 1944, but unemployment and dependence on the informal sector of the economy, coupled to poor housing and slum formation, could not be put right in short order. This chapter focuses on employment/unemployment and housing issues in Kingston in the first decades after independence, and makes a direct comparison with conditions in the last years of colonialism. A major new policy introduced after sovereignty was structural adjustment, which began to be implemented in a systematic way in the 1980s, and has had a substantial—and negative—impact on the lower class. Academic opinion suggests that the Latin American and Caribbean city has been doubly undermined during the last half century: first, by massive population increase following 1950, as the balance of the population has shifted from predominantly rural to overwhelmingly urban; and, secondly, by structural adjustment, which, since the late 1970s, has undone or undermined many of the solutions to urbanization previously achieved by grassroots endeavour in the face of labour-intensive capitalism—for example, the provision of shelter through self-help housing of the squatter kind. In short, whatever benefits late twentieth-century globalization has brought to Latin American and the Caribbean, there have been massive losers among the urban poor (Clarke and Howard 1999). This chapter modifies many, but not all, of these generalizations in the case of Kingston. While its formerly protected economy has been turned inside out by structural adjustment, Jamaica’s economy, even prior to independence, was small, open, and therefore potentially vulnerable; and Kingston was already a classic example of an overcrowded metropolis with a weak industrial base. The introduction of structural adjustment in Jamaica has increased unemployment or withdrawal from the labourforce, and impacted on the housing situation among the lower class, without—in the case of Jamaica—increasing economic growth. However, in Kingston, once the immediate impact of structural adjustment was over, a static or slowly declining urban economy has gone hand in hand with a gradual reduction (so the data show) of the highest levels of unemployment and a substantial improvement in housing provision and quality, despite the fact that more than half the labourforce is in the informal sector.
From Slum to Ghetto: Social Deprivation
Authors: Clarke Colin
Published: November 2020

There were signs of the formation of a massive zone of social deprivation in Kingston—notably in West Kingston, dating from the West India Royal Commission Report (1945) and the Denham Town redevelopment project of the late 1930s (Central Housing Advisory Board, 1936; Stolberg 1990), via the Report on the Rastafari movement in the early 1960s (Smith, Augier, and Nettleford, 1960) and an early paper by Clarke (1966), to the research of Clarke (1975a, b) and Eyre (1986a, b) in the 1970s and 1980s. Kingston’s late-colonial slums were redesignated the ghetto after 1970 (Eyre 1986a, b). More precisely, the ghetto had its origins in the recognized slum areas of West Kingston of 1935 (Clarke, 1975a: fig. 25), in the areas in poor condition in 1947 (Fig. 1.9), the areas of poor housing in 1960 (Fig. 1.10), and the overcrowded areas of 1960 (Clarke 1975a: fig. 48). Clearly, the slum/ghetto is associated with deprivation, and with high population density in relation to low social class and poor quality (usually rented) accommodation. What is peculiar about the present-day Kingston ghetto is that it is a predominantly black area (more than 92 per cent), in a city where the black population is 88 per cent of the total (Ch. 4). So, while the ghetto conforms to Ward’s definition (1982) in that it is racially homogeneous (almost all the remainder of its population is mulatto), it is defined as much by the deprivation of its occupants—and their high-density dwelling—as by its exclusive racial characteristics. Moreover, it has not expanded by flight from white residential heartlands on its periphery, as in the case of Morrill’s (1965) US ghetto model. Indeed the middle-class mulatto districts on its northern periphery in Kingston have retained their class status (while becoming noticeably darker) over the last thirty years, and the ghetto has spread into areas that were either vacant (in the west) or have become decayed (in the east) (Knight and Davies 1978). Whereas in 1970, the slum/ ghetto was largely West Kingston, it now extends to East Kingston as well, and the major spatial distinction is between uptown (which is largely upper or middle class) and downtown (which is lower class and houses the core of the ghetto). The precise point of division is often given as the clock at Half Way Tree, hence the terms living above or below the clock (Robotham 2003b).
Conclusion
Authors: Clarke Colin
Published: November 2020

This conclusion reconsiders the various themes depicted by spatial and longitudinal analysis, and reflects on the use of spatial and aspatial census data to construct the social geography of Kingston since sovereignty. In particular, the conclusion returns to the imposition of structural adjustment by the IMF-World Bank; the formal/informal split in employment; the persistent housing deficit; the demise of colour/race segregation and the enduring significance of class and pluralism in the social stratification; and the ghetto as a locale of deprivation and violence, as well as of creole creativity. Kingston is no longer the colour–class segregated entity that it was at independence, but it is broken, in a post-modern sense, into variegated micro-worlds of achievement and defeat, danger and safety, often spatially proximate or even juxtaposed. But Kingston is not unique. It is comparable in its employment and housing problems to adjacent Latin American cities that have experienced structural adjustment over the last twenty to twenty-five years, and to an even wider range of post-colonial cities that are undergoing rapid political or economic transformation, including globalization. Two obvious comparators are São Paulo in Brazil, which has suffered income polarization, and the massive growth of its informal settlements since the democratization of the military regime in the 1980s, and the cities of South Africa, where apartheid provided the basis for segregation on a massive scale until the early 1990s. Furthermore, São Paulo, Johannesburg, and Kingston have violent crime records among the worst in the developing world, largely because social polarization is rooted in class/race difference and deprivation. The conclusion turns first to the value of long-run census analysis, before it reviews the book’s major findings, considers Kingston’s place in a wider world, and assesses Kingston’s decolonization. This book has focused on issues of social development and spatial change covering the late-colonial and post-sovereignty periods in Kingston, and has drawn heavily on the census information covering the period 1943 to 1991. The 1943 census was carried out to provide statistical information essential for population registration prior to the first general election based on adult suffrage in 1944, and is regarded as the first modern census.
The Role of Environmental Regulatory Agencies in Sustainability: Korea and Indonesia
Authors: Rock Michael T. , Angel David P.
Published: November 2020

The first step, but by no means the last, in the process of improving the environmental performance of manufacturing plants, firms, and industries in East Asia requires the building and strengthening of traditional environmental regulatory systems. Without this, policy integration is not likely to work and without effective policy integration, governments in East Asia are not likely to be able to link environmental intensities reduction policies to the technological capabilities policies of economic and industrial development agencies. Because most governments in East Asia pursued ‘grow first, clean up later’ environmental strategies and because traditional economic and industrial development agencies are so closely linked to their counterparts in private industry, many (Lee and So 1999; Lohani 1998; Smil 1997; Eder 1996; Bello and Rosenfeld 1992) are skeptical of the ability of governments in this region to build and sustain traditional environmental regulatory agencies. But there is growing evidence that numerous governments in this region, including in Singapore, Malaysia, and Indonesia in Southeast Asia and Taiwan Province of China, China, and Korea in Northeast Asia have made significant progress in building traditional command and control regulatory agencies (Rock 2002a; Aden et al. 1999). Everywhere in East Asia, this was and is a lengthy, costly, difficult, contentious, and time-consuming process. The speed and alacrity with which governments succeed depends on an intricate interplay of international pressures, the nature of domestic politics, the capacity and capabilities of the state, and the rapidity with which new ideas about the environment spread (Rock 2002a). Sometimes, as in Taiwan Province of China, international pressures associated with the loss of diplomatic recognition and citizen pressures associated with democratization have exerted powerful influences on the ruling party, the KMT, to build a strong and capable environmental regulatory agency as a way of demonstrating to the world and Taiwan’s citizens that the government was environmentally responsible (Rock 2002a). Other times, as in Singapore, a benevolent despot committed to creating a clean and green Singapore used the powers of government and a highly capable bureaucracy to create a credible environmental agency (Rock 2002a).
Implications for Other Industrializing Economies
Authors: Rock Michael T. , Angel David P.
Published: November 2020

In previous chapters we have demonstrated how the practice of policy integration—the linking of environmental regulatory policies with resource pricing policies, trade and investment policies, and technological capabilities building policies—in the East Asian NIEs has driven down the energy and pollution intensity of industrial activity in these economies. As we have shown, each East Asian NIE used a somewhat different strategy for driving down environmental intensities. Singapore did it by effectively linking its tough environmental agency, the Ministry of the Environment, to the country’s premier institutions of industrial policy—the Economic Development Board and the Jurong Town Corporation—charged with attracting OECD multinationals and providing them with factories and OECD-like infrastructure facilities. Taiwan Province of China took a decidedly different path. Following the decision of the central government to create a tough regulatory agency in the face of strong opposition from the country’s institutions of industrial policy, the government, by building a capable regulatory agency and allowing it to get tough with polluters, demonstrated to those who managed the institutions of industrial policy that they would have to adapt to a crackdown on polluters. They did so by using the institutions of industrial policy to craft an approach to industrial environmental improvement that linked Taiwanese firms and the Taiwan Environmental Protection Administration to the technology-upgrading policies of the Industrial Development Bureau in the Ministry of Economic Affairs and the technological research activities of the Industrial Technology Research Institute. Where governments had less capable environmental regulatory agencies, they used several other pathways to policy integration. The government of Malaysia followed two different pathways to policy integration. On the one hand, it adopted an industry-specific approach to de-link palm oil production and the export of processed palm oil products from palm oil pollution by integrating palm oil processors with a quasi-public, quasi-private palm oil research institute, the Palm Oil Research Institute of Malaysia, and the Department of the Environment in a search for a cost-effective palm oil waste treatment technology. Once a viable solution to pollution emerged, the Department of the Environment used its embedded autonomy with producers in this sector to ratchet up emissions standards and de-link palm oil processing from palm oil pollution.
Prospects for Policy Integration in Low Income Economies
Authors: Rock Michael T. , Angel David P.
Published: November 2020

In the final chapter of the book, we turn to the question of the prospects for policy integration in the low income countries, or the poorest of the rest of the industrializing economies in Africa, Asia, and elsewhere. Is there any evidence that these low income countries can or have practiced policy integration? Does policy integration offer opportunities for low income countries to pursue industry-led growth strategies in ways that balance concerns with the environment and those of poverty reduction? Answering these questions is a difficult challenge in that far less is known about the institutions and strategies of industrial capabilities building in low income countries than is known about industrial capabilities building in the East Asian NIEs. To partially address this concern, we have conducted a questionnaire survey of the effectiveness of industrial capability building strategies and institutions in a sample of 27 low income countries in Asia, Africa, Latin America and the Caribbean, and in the former Soviet Union. We then combine these survey data with the published measures on country industrial competitiveness and on macro-institutional conditions, as used in Chapter 2, to provide an initial assessment of the effectiveness of industrial capability building strategies in these countries, as well as the macro- and meso-level institutional obstacles to effective policy integration. Building on the analyses of industrial upgrading presented in Chapter 2 and of policy integration in Chapter 3, we need to consider three broad domains of institutional effectiveness. First, we need to examine the extent to which the basic enabling conditions identified in Chapter 2 are, or are not, being met in low income countries. In Chapter 2 we argued that openness to trade and investment, macroeconomic stability, political stability, development of a substantial physical and human infrastructure base, and bureaucratic capability in government are critical to industrial competitiveness and industrial capability building. These variables, along with better resource pricing policies and the development of an effective environmental regulatory agency embedded in the institutions of industrial policy, are also critical for improving the environmental performance of industry (Chapters 3 and 9).
The Regulatory World of Agri-food: Politics, Power, and Conventions
Authors: Morgan Kevin , Marsden Terry , Murdoch Jonathan
Published: November 2020

The history of agriculture in developed countries over the past seventy years is first and foremost a political history because of the intense interplay between farming and the state. Indeed, it is difficult to think of any other ‘industry’ which has been so comprehensively regulated by the state, over such a long period of time, as agriculture. Even neo-liberal governments in OECD countries have accepted the political compact between farming and the state on account of the ‘exceptionalism’ of agriculture. The rationale for its exceptional status might vary from country to country, but it invariably has something to do with one major aspect that distinguishes agriculture from all other industries: the fact that we ingest its products. In other words, the centrality of agriculture to human health is far and away the most important reason why many countries have sought to ensure a measure of food security by protecting their national farm sectors through permutations of production subsidies, price supports, and import controls—the origins of which stretch back to the 1930s in the case of the US and as far back as the nineteenth-century Corn Laws in the case, for example, of the UK. Agricultural history can be read in a number of different ways. The most polarized readings are the productivist and the ecological interpretations. The productivist discourse, which emphasizes the phenomenal productivity gains that have been achieved since the Second World War, is essentially a story of unalloyed economic success due to a tripartite alliance of state, science, and farmers. The ecological discourse, by contrast, points not to the economic benefits of the post-war productivity miracle, but to the social and environmental costs of agricultural intensification. In the US, where intensive farming practices are most advanced, such problems as soil erosion and animal welfare were attributed to the regulatory regime operated by the United States Department of Agriculture (USDA), which actively encouraged unsustainable farming practices. Similar connections have been made in Europe, where the Common Agricultural Policy (CAP) was deemed to be the main culprit.
California: The Parallel Worlds of Rival Agri-food Paradigms
Authors: Morgan Kevin , Marsden Terry , Murdoch Jonathan
Published: November 2020

The aim of this chapter is to explore the nature of the contemporary agri-food worlds—the conventional and the alternative—in California. More specifically, we ask: what are the variations within each world? What sources of contestation are leading to (1) convergence and potential appropriation by the dominant agri-industrial complex; or (2) separation and real ecological modernization; or (3) a sort of coexistence and spatial multifunctionality and regulation of the two systems? In this chapter we make some preliminary assessment of the agri-industrial pathway that distinctively marks out California as one of the most highly productivist agrarian regions in the world. This region has applied successive waves of capitalist and endogenous development, with or against a series of ‘obstacles’. As the literature has traditionally emphasized, the history of agri-food in California is the history of a tension within a regional brand of agrarian capitalism continually wrestling with its own contradictions between economic accumulation and social legitimacy. The chapter first examines the historical and contemporary dynamics of the agri-industrial paradigm as it has played itself out in this bountiful but peculiar agrarian space. Specifically, it describes how the agri-food system in California has (quite successfully) attempted to overcome ‘the obstacles’ of what we term ‘first’, ‘second’, and ‘third’ natures. More so than any other region, California has developed since 1849 an agri-industrial dynamic that continues to exploit its natural and social conditions in ways that sustain an exceptional and endogenous form of ‘agri-cultural economy’. After exploiting the natural resource ‘initial endowments’ through a very effective ‘extractive’ mode (i.e. ‘first nature’), the agri-industrial paradigm assembles a specific form of fictitious circulation of capital, goods, and services. This creates a ‘second nature’: a longstanding framework of flows of capital and labour, infrastructure and technologies, which provide a superstructure for the state to overcome the well-documented obstacles of labour and production time in the agri-food sphere. However dominant or celebrated this peculiar model becomes at the end of the twentieth century, we see another set of profound challenges ahead. These are ‘third nature’ obstacles which were in part created out of the very success of a century of Californian agri-industrialism.
Nature and the State Apparatus
Authors: Whitehead Mark , Jones Rhys , Jones Martin
Published: November 2020

The previous two chapters have examined key moments and sites of nature– state interaction and have argued for the need to explore the manifold contexts within which these linkages develop. This discussion proved useful as a way of highlighting the different ways in which modern states have sought to frame national natures through ideological and material processes, and began to illustrate the ideological and concrete impacts of national natures on state organizations. This chapter focuses on the ways in which nature has been incorporated into the state apparatus, as well as showing how the state apparatus has helped to frame national natures. When referring to the state apparatus, we mean the ‘set of institutions and organizations through which state power is exercised’ (Clark and Dear 1984: 45). The state apparatus is distinct from the state form, which refers to the relationship between a given state structure and a particular social formation, and the state function, which alludes to the ‘activities which are undertaken in the name of the state’ (Clark and Dear 1984: 37, 41). Despite the reference to a state apparatus in the preceding sentences, it is clear that it does not represent a singular entity. If, as Neil Brenner (2004: 4) maintains, a reference to the state in the singular misleadingly ascribes to it a unity and uniformity that it does not possess, then by the same token, we need to think about the state apparatus as something that is not singular in character. Gordon Clark and Michael Dear (1984) have emphasized the multi-faceted and plural nature of the state apparatus. The state apparatus, in this sense, comprises an agglomeration of different sub-apparatuses, which are the ‘collection of agencies, organizations and institutions which together constitute the means by which state functions are attained’, and para-apparatuses, namely those ‘auxiliary agencies’ that possess ‘some degree of operational autonomy’ (Brenner 2004: 49). The state apparatus ranges, therefore, from those bureaucracies charged with conducting the state’s executive functions to a plethora of agencies involved in its more mundane aspects of governance. For Antonio Gramsci, the state apparatus is even broader in scope, drawing in important aspects of civil society.