bluuebunny/crossref_metadata_2025 huggingface dataset:
Unit I 10,13
Authors: Allison Penelope M.
Published: November 2020

The pavement of this unit was of cocciopesto and the walls were covered with a high cocciopesto socle with upper parts in coarse plaster. A wooden stairway ascended from the south-west corner, along the west wall, and an L-shaped, red-painted masonry bench (h.: 760 mm; l.: 3.3 m; w.: 60 mm), inset with two small dolia, projected into the centre of the room from the south-east corner. In the west end of this bench Elia recorded a masonry fornello. Remains of the closing system, included an iron door key, were found in the east entrance. The presence of the key suggests that this establishment was abandoned in haste. On the pavement near the north jamb, an inscribed amphora was found. In the northeast corner, a small ceramic vase was found. Against the south wall stood a tripod on which were found the remains of another ceramic vessel. On the bench were found: a bronze funnel; four more ceramic vases; the base of a terra sigillata dish, possibly reused; a large glass storage jar; two small glass bottles; a bronze tube; a clay lamp; and two bronze coins, one Republican and one an as of Tiberius. These finds point to this area having been used for food preparation although this is less evident for the two small glass bottles. A bronze ring, possibly a finger-ring, and four more coins (Republican and Julio-Claudian) were found a few centimetres above the pavement. At 2.5 m above the pavement were found a bronze cooking pot, a bronze bucket, and a terra sigillata dish. These objects were conceivably from the upper storey, implying that cooking and eating may also have been taking place there, although these could have been disturbed from the ground floor. Elia identified this as a ‘taberna’ and Packer referred to it as ‘Caupona Poppaeorum’. The finds indicate that food was being prepared here. Packer believed that the owner had a small apartment above. If the finds from the upper levels of the volcanic deposit were from the upper floor, this would suggest that cooking activities were also being carried out there. However, this seems an unlikely activity in the residence of someone who ran a food outlet.
Introduction
Authors: Hinton David A.
Published: November 2020

The aim of this book is to examine some of the ways in which people in medieval Britain presented themselves. It is primarily about small artefacts, especially jewellery. It says little about costume, although that provided the immediate setting for many of the objects discussed; nor is it a study of buildings, although those provided the backdrop for the people wearing the costume. Nor is it a catalogue. Instead, it considers the reasons for people’s decisions to acquire, display, conceal, and discard some of the things that were important to them, and examines how much the wish to acquire, retain, and pass such things on to heirs explains behaviour in the Middle Ages. The book’s approach is chronological, to explore the changes and the reasons for them during the whole of the Middle Ages. It is not restricted to the study of a single group of people, but explores the significance to the whole of society of some of the things available at various times, and the restrictions that limited their acquisition and use. Many of the objects considered and the documents cited relate to the richest or most powerful people, but one of the aims of the book is to consider whether theirs was an example that others invariably sought to follow, or whether at different times different aspirations were expressed, showing social disharmony and disunity. Because the emphasis of the book is on the artefacts that people used in order to show their affiliations and status, it says little about such things as household items. Locks and keys, for instance, were in most periods primarily functional; important as they are for showing the need for security in medieval buildings, they were rarely made with an eye on what people were going to think of those who turned them—except in the early period, they do not seem to have been regarded as things that served to define their owners’ social place or aspirations. Details of weapons, armour, and horse trappings do not get much attention either, since their finer points would have mattered only to a very privileged few. On the other hand, drinking-vessels and tableware are included, because they were very often used in ways that made them visible and a direct reflection of social standing.
Envoi
Authors: Hinton David A.
Published: November 2020

The significance of material culture, and the portable objects that are part of it, is dictated by people’s economic and social power, and their need to give physical expression to their status and aspirations. As in any society, the ability and wish to acquire, display, and use metals, glass, gems, or pots depended in the Middle Ages upon the supply of raw materials and finished products, and the demand that their availability might meet or create. The island of Britain had never been united by the Romans, and different reactions to their army’s withdrawal were only to be expected. Generally, however, power-seeking leaders establishing petty and impermanent fiefdoms relied largely upon being able to demonstrate their success by the acquisition of booty that could be profligately consumed, shown off, or distributed to families and supporters. Swords, brooches, or drinking-vessels symbolize how these social affinities were created and maintained, whether recorded in graves, hoards, and other deliberate deposits, or in accidental loss or intentional jettisoning of what was beyond reuse. The precise meanings that were given to gold and silver, glass and garnets, changed according to their contexts; some gave physical expression to an ambition to inherit the prestigious authority of Rome, others gave credence to stories of descent from far-travelling heroes, while others stressed a person’s place within their own immediate society. Yet artefacts such as pottery show that even people whose priority was subsistence were part of a wider network of contact. External factors influenced behaviour: no leader of a group in Britain could negotiate directly with the Byzantine emperor for the subsidies that brought gold into western Europe, so none could take action to ensure its continuing availability during the seventh century. Its relative value changed as it became rarer, so that it had to be used sparingly if at all; consequently, for some people the display of access to it became even more important. Contemporaneously, however, Christianity’s infiltration changed beliefs about what happened after death, and how people should use and dispose of their worldly goods. In bigger political units, using symbols to show origins and allegiances mattered less, but the large numbers of artefacts now known show that prosperity was not confined in the eighth and ninth centuries to the royal families.
Coinage and Identity in the Roman Provinces
Authors: Howgego Christopher
Published: November 2020

‘Identity is Now Seen Not as an Eternal given, but as something actively constructed and contested in a particular historical context, based on subjective, not objective criteria.’ For all that it may be a contingent construct, identity is a powerful driver of action, as we know all too well from our own experience. Identity matters. Coins have been described, in the words of Fergus Millar, as ‘the most deliberate of all symbols of public identity’. Yet the Roman historian will look in vain for any good introduction to, or systematic treatment of, the subject. That, in a nutshell, is the need which this volume seeks to address. It is worth emphasizing the words deliberate and public. It is relevant to recall the late second-century bc inscription which states the reasons why the people of Sestus decided to use its own bronze coinage. The first reason given is so that the city’s coin type should be used as a current type. In this context at least, coins were seen as a deliberate advertisement of public identity. What coinage most obviously provides is an enormous range of self-defined and explicit representations of public/official/communal identities, principally civic in nature. The material thus largely allows us to avoid the thorny problems associated with externally defined, implicit, and private identities. A public medium like coinage is not the place to look for overt opposition to Roman rule. And it invites, rather than answers, the question of to what extent public identities might have been understood as covert ‘resistance’ to Rome, to what extent they represented a self-definition designed to accommodate or play up to Roman attitudes, and to what extent they may even have been inspired or promoted by Rome itself. Identity has been a major focus of research in recent decades, for the obvious reason that it is particularly an issue when under threat. That consideration applies as much to our own scholarly context as it does to our subject, the Roman empire. The advent of the Euro has inevitably drawn attention to money in this context. Naturally there are major differences between now and then.
‘Belonging’ to Rome, ‘Remaining’ Greek: Coinage and Identity in Roman Macedonia
Authors: Kremydi-Sicilianou Sophia
Published: November 2020

During a Period when the Western world, and especially Europe, has been undergoing radical changes, the concept and definition of ‘identity’ has naturally attracted the interest of sociologists, historians, and political scientists alike. This tendency has influenced classical studies and the way we approach ancient civilizations. Archaeologists, for example, tend to become more cautious concerning the connection between material civilization and ethnic identity, and the ‘objectivity’ of the available evidence, whether literary or material, is now often scrutinized. One of the main interests— but also difficulties—of this perspective is that it requires interdisciplinary research: in order to understand how private individuals, or social groups, perceived ‘themselves’, in other words what they considered as crucial for differentiating themselves from ‘others’, one cannot rely on partial evidence. Can, for example, the adoption of Roman names by members of the provincial elite be conceived as an adoption of Roman cultural identity? Other literary, epigraphic, and archaeological evidence clearly shows that this was not the case. The Roman empire was a state that incorporated many ethnic groups, with different political institutions and various religious beliefs. In this sense it is natural that contemporary studies on cultural identity have, to a large extent, concentrated on the imperial period. And a good many of them are dedicated to the interpretation of literary texts. The contribution of coinage to the understanding of identity under the Roman empire is what this book is about, and Howgego has set the general framework in his introduction. Before trying to explore what coins can contribute to our understanding of the civic identity of Macedonian cities, it is crucial to bear in mind the restrictions imposed by the nature of our material. It is clear that coin types represent deliberate choices made by certain individuals who possessed the authority to act in the name of the civic community they represented. Whose identity therefore do these coins reflect? Under the late Republic and the imperial period provincial cities possessed a restricted autonomy but were always subjected to Roman political authority. Their obligations towards Rome or their special privileges could vary according to the emperor’s will.
Postscript to Volume I
Authors: Ling Roger , Ling Lesley
Published: November 2020

We take the opportunity of modifying ideas presented in Volume I, and responding to queries raised by reviewers and other commentators. 1. Street fountains. It was claimed in Volume I (p. 252) that the cutting back of the fac¸ade of I.10.1 to create space round the fountain was almost without parallel in the city: the only other places where we could point to similar sacrifices being made, either for fountains or for the distribution tanks and watertowers which were an integral part of the distribution system provided to feed them, were at the southern tip of Insula VI.1 and the south-east corner of VI.14. We suggested, therefore, that the owner or occupier of I.10.1, rather than being subject to an expropriation order, may have yielded the space voluntarily. It is certainly true that street fountains and water-towers were as far as possible sited to avoid impinging upon existing buildings, even though the installations in question almost invariably ended up both encroaching upon the sidewalk and projecting into the carriageway. In some cases, as at the northeast corner of VI.8, there was no great problem, because there was suficient space for pedestrians and wheeled trafic to get past without dificulty. In other places, the street was closed to vehicles, so the fountain could project freely into the carriageway or even stand wholly within it: such was the case at the north-west corner of VI.13, where the lack of ruts and a strategically placed bollard at the south end conform that the Vico del Labirinto was for pedestrians only. The western stretch of the Via dell’Abbondanza, between the forum and the Via Stabiana crossing, was at least partially closed to vehicles, but there was, in any case, no shortage of space for the fountains at the south-east corners of VII.9 and VII.14. At the north end of the Via delle Scuole, closed off by the forum colonnade, it was even possible to site a fountain in the middle of the road. In other cases, however, accommodating the fountain presented serious difficulties. At the south-east corner of VII.4, for instance, the fountain jutted into the street so far as to leave only a narrow gap for wheeled trafic to squeeze through, and ultimately the street was closed.
Descriptive Catalogue
Authors: Ling Roger , Ling Lesley
Published: November 2020

The pavement of room 1, like that of 3, is mortar (cocciopesto), containing isolated fragments of white and coloured marbles, including bardiglio scuro (or Hymettan?), giallo antico, and portasanta(?), amid a regular scatter of white chips, from 0.05 to 0.10 apart. A band of more closely spaced white tesserae, approx. d. 0.60 × w. 2.90 (tesserae from 0.005 to 0.008), marks the threshold between rooms 1 and 3. The three fragments of bardiglio scuro have maximum measurements of 0.20 × 0.125; 0.15 × 0.07; 0.06 × 0.065. Wall-paintings (Figs. 4, 5a; Pl. 133; Elia, 265; PPM ii. 231–2, figs. 2–4) State of preservation. The wall-paintings are late Third Style, with design and colours now damaged but with a few exceptions relatively easy to decipher. The W wall is the most complete, with plaster preserved to full height on the right, but dropping to just above the top of the dado near the left end before rising again to half-height in the SW angle. On the E wall, decorated only to the right of the doorway to room 2, the plaster is well preserved to mid-height. The S side of the room is open to room 3, but the shallow responds at each side retain plaster to mid-height. The N wall has no decoration other than fragments of a lararium painting to the right of the street entrance. The plaster overlaps the pavement. West wall. The DADO (ht. 0.82) is black with a delicate design of white and yellow lines, focused on a series of four little panels containing decorative motifs, one beneath each of the intervals of the main zone. Within an overall frame formed by a narrow white base-line (0.15 above the floor) and vertical white lines at each end (0.07 from the left angle, 0.19 from the right) the space is divided into five parts (w. resp. 0.70, 0.95, 1.17, 0.92, and 0.72) corresponding to the fivefold structure of the main zone. The two central divisions are each effected by a vertical white line interrupted at mid-height by a tiny square tilted at 45º; this is framed by the same white line, with an inner border-line in yellow, and contains a central rosette in white.
Internationalization of the State under US Hegemony and Japanese Quasi-Hegemony: Promoting Industrialization and Disciplining Labour, 1945–2000
Authors: Glassman Jim
Published: November 2020

The fashion in which the Thai peasantry was captured has heavily conditioned the development of the industrial labour process and labour markets. Thai workers did not simply appear at the factory gates when and where they were needed and in possession of the requisite skills. Rather, new streams of marginalized peasants began to join older streams of immigrant Sino-Thai workers as the capitalist transformation of agriculture proceeded, and the ways in which these new streams entered the industrial labour force depended in part upon the ways they were removed from agriculture. Beyond this, the state did not merely passively witness the absorption of former peasants into the industrial labour force but actively abetted the process through a variety of measures, ranging from state promotion of industrial development to investment in education and training of workers. The Thai state also actively shaped the labour market through its alternating suppression and promotion of trade unions, a matter addressed in this chapter. The state functions that are integral to the industrial transformation described here were carried out by internationalized segments of the Thai state, including one—the Department of Labour—that would typically be associated with national corporatism, thus illustrating the depth and complexity of the internationalization process. The internationalization of capital and the state around industrial manufacturing development has been more complicated than the internationalization of capital and state in the capture of the peasantry both because of this depth and complexity and because of the overlapping roles played by two hegemons. Whereas the capture of the peasantry was the product of collaboration between Thai and US elites, the disciplining of the industrial labour force involves more multifaceted collaboration among Thai, US, and Japanese elites—as well as transnational statist institutions. Furthermore, there has been some historical phasing of the relative influence of the two hegemons, with US influence declining after the mid-1970s and Japanese influence increasing. Finally, whereas the US intervention in Thailand aimed directly at transforming the structures of state power along with the economy, the Japanese state has been more inclined to make use of the existing state apparatus and to transform its functions, where necessary, through sheer economic power.
Managing Water for the Future: The Case of England and Wales
Authors: Byatt Ian
Published: November 2020

To understand how things have worked is the best preparation for looking ahead. So I will not gaze into a crystal ball but explain what is happening in England and Wales. I will, however, set out and discuss some scenarios for the future. In 1989 the water industry emerged from the nationalization era which it had entered only fifteen years earlier. It was a late entrant into the world of public corporations that had emerged between the wars, and particularly after 1945—a world that was a product of Fabian thinking and wartime experience. The Fabians provided the intellectual base for ‘gas and water socialism’ in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Two world wars encouraged people to believe that the state could manage our basic industries efficiently, and the inter-war depression drew attention to deficiencies in the working of the market economy. ‘Gas and water socialism’ started in the last quarter of the nineteenth century, in the municipalities, with gas, water, electricity, and tramways. In the inter-war years there was a movement towards regional, then national operations, culminating in the post-war Nationalization Acts. Consolidation in water followed slowly. The amalgamation of municipal undertakings into ten Regional Water Authorities did not take place until 1973. It brought a host of water and wastewater undertakings onto a river basin basis. A further step was taken in 1983 with the substitution of smaller, more executive boards for the much larger bodies that had included local authority representatives. The model for nationalization in the UK developed from the experience of Herbert Morrison, a key figure in the post-war Labour Government. It involved an arm’s-length relationship with government. By the 19705, the flaws in this model were evident. The boards of the nationalized industries were required to act in the social interest, subject to breaking even financially. The definition of the social interest was the responsibility of the boards, without any clear mechanisms for ministers to influence their decisions. It was never clear what ‘breaking-even’, ‘taking one year with the next’, meant in practice. Moreover, having delegated social functions to such a public not-for-profit body, ministers found it difficult to stay clear.
Biodiversity and Conservation
Authors: Blondel Jacques , Médail Frédéric
Published: November 2020

The biodiversity of Mediterranean-climate ecosystems is of particular interest and concern, not only because all five of these regions (the Mediterranean basin, California, central Chile, Cape Province of South Africa, western and southern parts of Australia) are among the thirty-four hotspots of species diversity in the world (Mittermeier et al. 2004), but they are also hotspots of human population density and growth (Cincotta and Engelman 2000). This relationship is not surprising because there is often a correlation between the biodiversity of natural systems and the abundance of people (Araùjo 2003; Médail and Diadema 2006) and this, inevitably, raises conservation problems. Within the larger hotspot of the Mediterranean basin as a whole, ten regional hotspots have been identified. They cover about 22 per cent of the basin’s total area and harbour about 44 per cent of Mediterranean endemic plant species (Médail and Quézel 1997, 1999), as well as a large number of rare and endemic animals (Blondel and Aronson 1999). A key feature of these Mediterranean hotspots as a whole is their extraordinarily high topographic diversity with many mountainous and insular areas. Not surprisingly this results in high endemism rates and they contain more than 10 per cent of the total plant richness (see the recent synthesis of Thompson 2005). However, of all the mediterranean-type regions in the world, the Mediterranean basin harbours the lowest percentage (c.5%) of natural vegetation considered to be in ‘pristine condition’ (Médail and Myers 2004; Chapter 7). With an average of as many as 111 people per km2, one may expect a significant decline in biological diversity in the Mediterranean basin—a region that has been managed, modified, and, in places, heavily degraded by humans for millennia (Thirgood 1981; Braudel 1986; McNeill 1992; Blondel and Aronson 1999; Chapter 9). There are two contrasting theories that consider the relationships between humans and ecosystems in the Mediterranean (Blondel 2006, 2008). The first one is the ‘Ruined Landscape or Lost Eden’ theory, first advocated by painters, poets, and historians in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and later by a large number of ecologists.
Plural StratiWcation: Colour-Class and Culture
Authors: Clarke Colin
Published: November 2020

Urbanization in Kingston since independence, as the previous chapter demonstrated, has placed a very heavy burden on the already disadvantaged lower class. This burden is expressed in their dependence on the informal sector of employment, high rates of unemployment, rental of high-density accommodation (or outright squatting), shared access to toilet facilities, and lack of piped-water connections in the tenements—all these problematic characteristics piling up in the downtown areas—quintessentially in West Kingston. There is clearly a stratification of living conditions ranging from affluence in the uptown suburbs via a modicum of comfort in the middle zone around Half Way Tree and Cross Roads to outright deprivation in the downtown neighbourhoods. It was argued in the previous chapter that this stratification of living conditions is underpinned by class-differentiated neighbourhoods; as this chapter will show, these circumstances mesh with—and reinforce—colour-class stratification and cultural pluralism, or what I have called plural stratification (to distinguish it from class stratification alone). After the Second World War, it became the conventional wisdom among Caribbean social scientists (of local birth) to depict Jamaica—and the Windward and Leeward Islands—as colour-class stratifications. This had the advantage of linking these Caribbean stratifications to occupational/class systems in the US and Europe, while pointing to a colonial history of colour differentiation, which shadowed class and reinforced it. So, the upper class was white or pass-as-white, the middle class brown and black, and the lower class black with some brown (Henriques 1953: 42). A number of racially or ethnically distinct groups originally fell outside this colour-class stratification, but had, over time, been accommodated within it: Jews were absorbed into the upper class, as were the Syrian professionals; Chinese, the remaining Syrians, and a few East Indians were middle class; the majority of East Indians were lower class. Two further aspects of colour-class need underlining. There was a tendency for its advocates to regard class as unproblematic and consensual, as in the American tradition of social analysis (Parsons 1952). In short, the whole colour-class system was dependent upon the almost complete acceptance by each group of the superiority of the white, and the inferiority of the black (Henriques 1953).
Impact of Multinational Corporations’ Firm-Based Environmental Standards on Subsidiaries and their Suppliers: Evidence from Motorola-Penang
Authors: Rock Michael T. , Angel David P.
Published: November 2020

How successful are multinational corporations (MNCs) in extending their firm-based environmental standards to their wholly owned subsidiaries and local suppliers, particularly the small and medium sized firm suppliers in developing economies who operate as part of the global production networks of MNCs? Three developments suggest this is not an idle question. To begin with, the economic influence of MNCs is simply staggering. As Dowell et al. (1999: 4) state, the intra-firm transactions of the more than 40,000 MNCs with approximately 250,000 affiliates worldwide account for about 40% of world trade; foreign direct investment is roughly five times official development assistance, and the sales of the ten largest MNCs are larger than the GNP of the 100 poorest countries. This suggests that MNCs along with their affiliates and their suppliers have the potential for exerting substantial influences on local, national, regional, and global environments. Because most of the value added and employment in industry in most developing countries, including the developing economies of East Asia, is accounted for by small and medium sized firms that lie beyond the reach of most governments’ environmental regulatory agencies and because we suspect that the most viable path to technological upgrading and environmental improvement in the low income economies lies in finding ways to increase the participation of indigenous small and medium sized enterprises (SMEs) in the global value chains of multinationals, it is important to ask whether an upgrading strategy based on linking indigenous SMEs to the global value chains of MNCs can also be used to affect the environmental performance of SMEs. While not all the SMEs in any one developing economy are ever likely to be reached through the supply chains of MNCs, there is substantial evidence that governments working in concert with MNCs in vendor development programs linking SMEs to MNCs in some places such as Taiwan Province of China, Malaysia, and Singapore have affected the technological upgrading activities of indigenous small and medium sized firms. To date, there is little rigorous evidence to suggest that these vendor development programs have affected the environmental behavior of small and medium sized firms in the East Asian newly industrializing economies.
Beyond the Placeless Foodscape: Place, Power, and Provenance
Authors: Morgan Kevin , Marsden Terry , Murdoch Jonathan
Published: November 2020

The foregoing chapters bring us to the point where we can directly address the three themes that constitute the subtitle of the book—namely place, power, and provenance. Reflecting the binary thinking that pervades the agri-food literature—global versus local, embedded versus disembedded, conventional versus alternative, quantity versus quality, and so forth— these themes tend to be treated in a highly compartimentalized fashion, with place and provenance being the preserve of the alternative food literature, while power seems to be the proper object of analysis in the conventional food literature. This binary conceptual tradition has the effect of segmenting the food sector into unduly rigid and path-dependent worlds of production. It could even lead to the (erroneous) conclusion that the conventional food chain is inextricably tied to a particular world of production, invariably the Industrial World, while alternative food chains are embedded in, and tethered to, the Interpersonal World. To overcome this unwarranted division of labour, we propose to examine the roles of place, provenance, and power in both the conventional food chain and the ecological food chain. However, we also want to suggest that the borders between these worlds are more porous and much less static than the worlds of production literature sometimes implies, leaving open the possibility that firms and regions can move from one world to another. Each world of production may have its own nuanced regulatory environment, where a specific mix of rules, regulations, and quality conventions defines its distinctive milieu, but all worlds are subject to some meta-regulatory trends that are emerging in the global food sector, two of which have the potential to induce significant changes. For the sake of simplicity, we shall refer to these meta-regulatory trends as the new moral economy on the one hand and the neo-liberal economy on the other. Taken in isolation, these regulatory trends could trigger very different trajectories of development, with major implications for place, power, and provenance in the food chain, because the former involves reregulating the food sector, while the latter aims to deregulate it.
States and Natures: An Introduction
Authors: Whitehead Mark , Jones Rhys , Jones Martin
Published: November 2020

Before continuing to read this book, stop, place this volume back on the shelf and take a moment to look through the pages of an illustrated atlas of the world. At least half of this atlas will probably be given over to illustrating one of the dominant political ordering principles around which our world continues to be constructed and conceived—the nation-state. If your atlas is similar to ours, however, you will also notice that nation-states are not only represented and recognized according to their territorial shape and official political nomenclature. Skimming through the glossy colour pages of our atlas, a continual cross-referencing appears between the political, ecological, and geological motifs of nation-states. The political map of the US, for example, is surrounded by images of the forests of New England in the fall and the spectacular geological strata of the Grand Canyon. Turning the page you find an immediate association being made between Iceland and the volcanically heated Blue Lagoon Lake, the Bahamas and its golden sandy beaches, Belize and banana trees, Peru and the cloud-laden Andes. Further into the atlas the fjords are deployed as an icon for the Norwegian state, barren deserts are used to denote Western Sahara and Mauritania, and a dramatic picture of Victoria Falls is carefully positioned below a map of Zambia. These images are, of course, as with so much of what is routinely produced within the visualizations of state and nationhood, crude stereotypes of complex geographical entities. However, we want to argue that this collection of ecological and geological imagery does reveal an interesting relationship, a relationship that is central to the ways in which our worlds are constructed, ordered, and reproduced—the relationships between states and natures. This book is premised upon the exploration of a paradox. While contemporary discussions of global environmental change, trans-boundary biological communities, and systemic ecological threats routinely emphasize the irrelevance of state systems and boundaries as means for understanding and addressing questions of nature, everywhere you look nature is continually being ordered and framed by nation-states.
Minor Landforms
Authors: Migon Piotr
Published: November 2020

Perhaps the most characteristic of all minor landforms on exposed granite surfaces approaching horizontality are flat-bottomed or, less commonly, hemispherical hollows ranging in diameter from 15–20 cm to a few metres. They are known under a variety of local names, such as Opferkessel in German, pias in Spanish, vasques in French, or gnamma, which is an Aboriginal word occasionally used in Australia (e.g. Twidale and Corbin, 1963). In English, these superficial features are collectively described as weathering pits. They are not unique to granite, but are also abundant in sandstone and occur in other lithologies too. A remarkable flatness of floors of many shallow pits is reflected in another name present throughout the literature, namely that of a ‘pan’ (e.g. Twidale and Corbin, 1963; Fairbridge, 1968; Dzulynski and Kotarba, 1979). However, and despite a more accurate reflection of the form, the term ‘pan’ for weathering pits has fallen into disfavour, apparently because an identical name is used to describe much larger, closed topographic depressions within low-angle surfaces in arid lands. The majority of weathering pits are either closed features or there is a narrow outlet in the form of a channel trending away from the pit (Plate 4.1). Another type is an ‘armchair pit’, which grows into the rock surface from the side of an outcrop. These are hemispherical and wide open. At many localities pits may coalesce to form extensive networks, or else they are joined by channel-like features. Weathering pits in granite show a wide range of dimensions. Hollows in excess of 10 m long and 3 m deep have been reported, and the largest ever described is probably one in Australia, measuring 18.3 x 4.6 x 1.8 m (Twidale and Corbin, 1963). Unfortunately, there are very few systematic measurements of large populations of pits, and this severely restricts any attempts to generalize about the size of pits. Goudie and Migoń (1997) provided such a data set for two outcrops in the central Namib Desert. An interesting observation is that weathering pits in this arid area are much larger than their counterparts in humid temperate latitudes.
Freedom’s Prospect
Authors: Harvey David
Published: November 2020

In his annual message to Congress in 1935, President Roosevelt made clear his view that excessive market freedoms lay at the root of the economic and social problems of the 1930s Depression. Americans, he said, ‘must forswear that conception of the acquisition of wealth which, through excessive profits, creates undue private power’. Necessitous men are not free men. Everywhere, he argued, social justice had become a definite goal rather than a distant ideal. The primary obligation of the state and its civil society was to use its powers and allocate its resources to eradicate poverty and hunger and to assure security of livelihood, security against the major hazards and vicissitudes of life, and the security of decent homes.1 Freedom from want was one of the cardinal four freedoms he later articulated as grounding his political vision for the future. These broad themes contrast with the far narrower neoliberal freedoms that President Bush places at the centre of his political rhetoric. The only way to confront our problems, Bush argues, is for the state to cease to regulate private enterprise, for the state to withdraw from social provision, and for the state to foster the universalization of market freedoms and of market ethics. This neoliberal debasement of the concept of freedom ‘into a mere advocacy of free enterprise’ can only mean, as Karl Polanyi points out, ‘the fullness of freedom for those whose income, leisure and security need no enhancing, and a mere pittance of liberty for the people, who may in vain attempt to make use of their democratic rights to gain shelter from the power of the owners of property’. What is so astonishing about the impoverished condition of contemporary public discourse in the US, as well as elsewhere, is the lack of any serious debate as to which of several divergent concepts of freedom might be appropriate to our times. If it is indeed the case that the US public can be persuaded to support almost anything in the name of freedom, then surely the meaning of this word should be subjected to the deepest scrutiny.
Geography and Development
Authors: Scott Allen J.
Published: November 2020

Theories of regional development and growth have hitherto focused for the most part on situations in the more developed countries of the world. There is no reason in principle, however, why these theories should not also apply—with suitable adjustments— to cases in less developed countries. Certainly, economic theorists of late have increasingly sought to deny that we need radically different approaches for dealing with less as opposed to more advanced economies (cf. Bloom and Sachs 1998; Sachs and Warner 1997). In recent years, indeed, a growing body of empirical work has demonstrated that very similar kinds of regional development and growth processes to those found in North America, Western Europe, and Japan are observable in much of the rest of the world. These processes are manifest in localized industrial systems that range from the purely incipient to largescale productive regions with global reach. In the present chapter, I attempt to systematize some of the main theoretical issues that are encountered in any attempt to understand the logic and dynamics of regional production complexes in less developed countries. In addition, I offer a brief review of some of the empirical work that has been undertaken on this question in Asia, Latin America, and Africa, together with some comments on the dilemmas that policy-makers in these areas must face up to in any attempt to promote development. I proceed at the outset by drawing both explicitly and implicitly on three major strands of thought. The first of these is what Krugman (1996) has called High Development Theory, with its central focus on virtuous circles of cumulative causation and balanced growth. The second is the so-called new growth theory, which emphasizes the pervasiveness of dynamic increasing returns effects in the modern economy (Lucas 1988; Romer 1986). The third is contemporary economic geography, where a long tradition of research has underscored the important role of regional clusters of production and work as motors of economic expansion and social progress (cf. Scott and Storper 2003).
The Stone Age Archaeology of Church Hole, Creswell Crags, Nottinghamshire
Authors: Jacobi R. M.
Published: November 2020

Church Hole (SK 5339 7411) is towards the western end of Creswell Crags gorge. It is the only cave or fissure on the south (Nottinghamshire) side of the crags to have yielded evidence of human occupation. It is not known when the cave got its name and at the beginning of its exploration, perhaps through ignorance, it was referred to simply as ‘Fissure C’ (Mello 1875) or the ‘Notts Cave’ (Dawkins n.d., 1876). Looking into the cave from the entrance grille is very like looking down the nave of a church and there may be no more to the name than this resemblance. The cave (Fig. 7.1) consists of a narrow passage, variously termed ‘chamber A’, ‘long passage’, or ‘main passage (A)’, which is horizontal for much of its length. It rises steeply at its inner end to terminate in a blocked crevice near the top of the Permian Lower Magnesian Limestone outcrop. On either side of the entrance are small chambers of which the more clearly defined is that on the western (right-hand) side—‘chamber B’. This is independently linked to the gorge by a narrow fissure. The cave had been closed by a stone wall and prior to excavation its outer part had been used as a byre. While bones and teeth may have been found at Creswell by George Stubbs, and these were the inspiration for his famous lion and horse paintings (Egerton 1984), it appears that the first confirmed palaeontological discovery to be made in the Crags came from Church Hole. This was a lower cheek tooth of a woolly rhinoceros (Coelodonta antiquitatis) and was found by Frank Tebbet the quarry manager at Welbeck. This was in 1872 (Heath 1879: 4). Serious exploration of Creswell Crags was begun in April 1875 by J. Magens Mello, the rector of St Thomas, New Brampton near Chesterfield (1863–87) and better known as the author of the Handbook to the Geology of Derbyshire (1876a).
Dating Magdalenian Art in North Spain: The Current Situation
Authors: Sainz César González
Published: November 2020

The graphic activity of Magdalenian human groups forms the most spectacular part of the archaeological record in Cantabrian Spain and, at the same time, represents probably the most expressive aspect of the culture of those Upper Palaeolithic hunters. Since the early 1990s, several projects have tried to fix more precisely the chronology of the cave art through the application of radiocarbon dating by Accelerator Mass Spectrometry (Valladas et al. 1992, 2001; Moure Romanillo and González Sainz 2000; Fortea Pérez 2002). The present article attempts an integrated discussion of the results of the absolute chronology for Magdalenian cave art and the present situation of the most reliable parallels between this and the mobile art of the same period. It is well known that the ordering in time of cave art is rather more complex than that of decorated objects, which are dated by their archaeological context (and therefore both this context and the artefacts themselves can be dated by radiocarbon). In Cantabrian Spain, the approaches to dating cave art, especially for the Magdalenian depictions, are the series of superimpositions known on certain walls of a few caves, the analogy with stratified mobile art, and absolute dating, essentially for this period, radiocarbon dating by accelerator. Other procedures, such as the correlation with stratigraphic sequences, offer good results in pre-Magdalenian periods (Fortea 1994), but are limited in the period that interests us here to just a few cases, such as Cueva del Mirón, in relation with some rather modest depictions (González Morales and Straus, 2000). 1. Series of superimposed figures of different kinds have often been described, on panels in a limited number of cave sites. In Cantabrian Spain, the main examples are found in the caves of La Peña del Candamo, Tito Bustillo, Llonín, Altamira, El Castillo, La Pasiega, and La Garma Lower Passage—in other words, the main cave art centres, repeatedly used over long periods in the Upper Palaeolithic. These sites tend to differ quite clearly from the other cave art sites, which are more or less synchronic internally (they have a much lower number of depictions which, above all, are more homogeneous in style and techniques).
Rewriting the History Books: The Magdalenian Art of Creswell Crags
Authors: Fisher Claire , Dinnis Rob
Published: November 2020

The text books say that there is no cave art in Britain. These will now have to be rewritten. . . . There had been a psychological barrier to the existence of cave art in Britain . . . butnever a satisfactory explanationas to why there was none. (Jon Humble, Inspector of Ancient Monuments, English Heritage, in an interview with John Pickrell for National Geographic News) In April 2003 Britain’s first unequivocal Palaeolithic parietal art was discovered in Creswell Crags, a narrow limestone gorge located on the Derbyshire and Nottinghamshire border in the English North Midlands. The announcement of its discovery was accompanied by a furore of media attention. Archaeological dogma had long maintained that no such art would be discovered in Britain, although, as Bahn (2003) has suggested, there was no good reason for such art not to exist. As Bahn highlighted, Britain has plenty of caves with evidence of Upper Palaeolithic occupation, plus examples of portable art from the period, including two figurative engravings attributed to Creswell Crags. The Magdalenian era was the last time that Europe was unified ‘in a real sense and on a grand scale’ (Paul Pettitt, quoted in The Guardian, 15 April 2004) and the conference organizers realized that to fully appreciate and understand the Creswell art, it must be considered in its wider continental context. The conference in Creswell was conceived to bring together specialists from across Europe and to place the art of Creswell in its European setting. The conference was held at the Social Centre in Creswell from 15 to 17 April 2004, and was organized by the team who had discovered the art, along with Andrew Chamberlain of the University of Sheffield and Ian Wall of the Creswell Heritage Trust. The Creswell Crags project is at the heart of regeneration in this former rural coalfield area. Indeed, Jon Humble (English Heritage 2003) has described the project in glowing terms as, ‘quite possibly the best and most successful example of an archaeology-led project for social and economic regeneration anywhere in the UK’.
Diabetes Breakthroughs: Januvia and Janumet
Authors: Cordes Eugene H.
Published: November 2020

I do not recommend this, but let’s just suppose that for breakfast you had a waffle drenched in maple syrup, a large glass of orange juice, and coffee with two teaspoons of sugar. What happens next? Your breakfast is full of carbohydrates. The waffle contains complex carbohydrates (starches) from the flour, and the orange juice, syrup, and sugared coffee contain simple carbohydrates (sugars). The sugar in orange juice and syrup is mostly fructose, and that in your coffee is sucrose. In the intestines, the starches are slowly broken down into the sugar glucose; the sucrose is split into equal amounts of glucose and fructose. The fructose can be converted to glucose in the liver. The sugars from the orange juice, syrup, and coffee enter the blood quickly; those from the starches in the waffle enter more slowly. However, they all act to increase blood glucose levels. A basic principle of human physiology is summed up in one word—homeostasis, which simply means that when the normal metabolic status of the human body is changed in some way, the body responds by restoring normality. When something changes, the body fights back to eliminate or minimize the change. This is what happens when blood glucose is elevated in response to a meal. Here is how. The pancreas is a medium-size organ in the abdomen that secretes enzymes into the gut to aid in digestion, and endocrine hormones into the bloodstream to control some aspects of metabolism. The pancreas responds to sugar entering the bloodstream by secreting the peptide hormone insulin into the circulation. Insulin is made in specialized cells of the pancreas known as the beta cells of the islets of Langerhans. Insulin has a critical role in the regulation of blood glucose levels. Acting through its receptor, insulin causes glucose in the blood to be taken up by muscle and fat cells, reducing the blood glucose level.