bluuebunny/crossref_metadata_2025 huggingface dataset:
Idol Pursuits: Artifacts and Authority after the Civil War
Authors: Snead James E.
Published: November 2020

A particularly baroque literary appearance of the Kentucky Mummy highlights the transformation of public perceptions of indigenous antiquities in the United States in the Civil War decade. An imaginary romance of Mammoth Cave, Legends of the South (Smith 1869), describes a mysterious, annual journey of a “venerable Indian” down into the cavern. Ultimately the old man disappears into its depths, never to return. Decades later the author pursues the subterranean trail, encountering marvels that include the warning Siste viator—“Stop, traveler”— chalked on the cave wall. Nearby he finds the deceased elder, reduced to a “mummy-like dessication” clad in deerskin. Armed with an amulet taken from the body he pushes onward, ultimately entering a vast sepulcher in which . . . lay the warrior tribe, in their panoply complete. Supine—with their hands crossed upon their breasts, with their faces turned upward, as if acknowledging the presence of a superior being, they lay, like the marble effigies of the knights of old upon their sarcophagi. . . . In this catacomb the author is haunted by a ghostly “Sachem” who chides: “Are you not satisfied that your cruel warfare has exterminated us from the surface of the earth? Must you follow us to these chambers of death to scatter our ashes?” The supernatural figure then describes the wars of his dead people, prophesying that those events would be repeated in post-Civil War United States. “Nations from the rising sun shall make war upon the conquerors,” he pronounces “and then shall the Southern panther rise from his lair, and avenge his wrongs.” This subterranean tale amplified the myriad accounts of the Kentucky Mummy—a discovery two generations in the past by that time. By the mid-nineteenth century such visions of indigenous antiquity were increasingly commonplace, but the linkage between these histories and current events indicate increasingly deep associations with the American landscape. It was not simply abstract indigenous history that was being co-opted, however, but the material legacy of that experience—the ruins and artifacts that were ubiquitous in the increasingly populated countryside.
The Big Picture
Authors: James Simon
Published: November 2020

It is now twenty years since Fergus Millar highlighted the importance of the spectacular archaeological discoveries made at the ancient city known today as Dura-Europos. While praising the energy of the original excavators, he set out the shortcomings of the limited available publications, and called for ‘the entire corpus of material from Dura’, published and unpublished, ‘to be systematically reviewed’ (Millar 1998, 474). Research and publication had, in fact, never entirely ceased, and a new generation of scholars was already busy on both archive and site when Millar wrote. Since then, both the scale and pace of work have sharply increased, effectively developing into a renaissance in Dura studies. It is hoped that what follows will constitute a significant contribution to this wider current enterprise, regarding a key aspect of the city in the final century of its existence: the highly obtrusive Roman military presence. Imperial soldiers were always central to the story of Dura- Europos on the Syrian Euphrates. Founded by soldiers of one empire, it was eventually destroyed in conflict between those of two more, and was even revealed to modern scholarship by troops of a fourth. In 1920 Indian soldiers of the British empire, on what we would now call counter-insurgency operations, camped in the ruins known as Salhiyeh, the ancient name of which was unknown. They started digging defensive trenches, and were surprised to discover wall paintings, one of which depicted a Roman auxiliary regiment making sacrifice (Breasted 1924). The military tribune Julius Terentius, named in Latin, is seen offering incense before three Palmyrene gods, and the Tychai of Palmyra and Dura. Thus the name—as it turned out, one of the twin names—of the city was rediscovered, as was the fact that it had a Roman garrison, here on the eastern fringe of Rome’s empire. Subsequent scientific excavations revealed its other name given by its original Macedonian soldier-settlers: Europos. They also revealed that, in the decades before Dura’s violent destruction by the Sasanians (AD c.256) and permanent abandonment, one of the most prominent features inside its walls was a sprawling Roman military base.
Project Context Rediscovery and Exploration
Authors: James Simon
Published: November 2020

The ruined city known locally as Salhiyeh was virtually unknown to western scholarship until the twentieth century (Sarre and Herzfeld 1920, 386–95; Kaizer 2017, 64), but its ancient identity remained unknown until the aftermath of the World War I when collapse of the Ottoman empire saw Britain and France divide up much of the Middle East between them (Velud 1988; Barr 2011). As we saw, during operations against Arabs resisting the new western occupation, British-commanded Indian troops bivouacking at the site dug defensive positions and accidentally revealed wall paintings. These were seen and published by visiting American archaeologist James Henry Breasted (Breasted 1922; 1924), who first identified the ruins as those of the historically attested but unlocated ‘Dura . . . called Europos by the Greeks’ (Isidore of Charax, Parthian Stations, 1). The site thereafter fell inside the newly imposed borders of French-controlled Syria (Velud 1988). More substantial excavations were conducted and published with exemplary speed by Franz Cumont in 1922–3 (Cumont 1926), paving the way for the great Yale University/French Academy expedition overseen by Mikhail Rostovtzeff. This ran over ten seasons: (Dates from the Preliminary Reports, and Hopkins 1979, xxii–xxiv, except ninth and tenth seasons from information in Yale archives provided by Megan Doyon and Richard A. Grossmann.) With a Roman military presence attested from the outset, further traces were encountered throughout the city’s exploration, with the heart of the military base area being identified and excavated in the fifth season, and the great ‘Palace of the dux ripae’ in the ninth. While masterminded by Rostovtzeff, and more nominally Cumont, these giants actually only briefly visited the excavations on a couple of occasions. The dig was conducted under a series of field directors: Maurice Pillet, Clark Hopkins, and finally Frank Brown. These led a small team of American and European architects, artists, and archaeologists, mostly male (although women occupied prominent places on the team, including Yale graduate student Margaret Crosby and most notably Hopkins’s wife Susan); they were mostly young and inexperienced (including Hopkins and Brown).
The Wadi Zone Campus, Citadel, and C3 Bath
Authors: James Simon
Published: November 2020

From the junction of H and 8th Sts, which gave access to the twin main axes of the military base zone on the plateau, H St led S to the bulk of the civil town and ultimately to the Palmyrene Gate, the steppe plateau W of the city, and the roads W to Palmyra and NW up the Euphrates to Syria. The fourth side of the crossroads followed a curving course SE, down into the inner wadi, then snaking through the irregularly laid-out old lower town to the now-lost River Gate, portal to the Euphrates and its plain. Of most immediate significance is that the Wadi Ascent Road also linked the plateau military zone with what can now be seen as another major area of military control, in the old Citadel, and on the adjacent wadi floor. The N part of the wadi floor is now known to have accommodated two military-built temples, the larger of which, the A1 ‘Temple of the Roman Archers’, was axial to the long wadi floor, which in the Roman period appears to have comprised one of the largest areas of open ground inside the city walls. This is interpreted as the campus, or military assembly and training ground, extension of which was commemorated in an inscription found in the temple. In 2011, what is virtually certainly a second military temple was found in the wadi close by the first, built against the foundation of the Citadel. This is here referred to as the Military Zeus Temple. Behind the Temple of the Roman Archers was a lane leading from the Wadi Ascent Road to the N gate of the Citadel. It helped define a further de facto enclosure, effectively surrounded by other military-controlled areas and so also presumed to have been in military hands. The Citadel itself, while in Roman times already ruinous on the river side due to cliff falls, still formed part of the defences. Moreover the massive shell of its Hellenistic walls now also appears to have been adapted to yet more military accommodation, some of it two storeys or higher.
Impact of Garrison and Base on the City
Authors: James Simon
Published: November 2020

What effect did the military base and the people who occupied it have on Dura-Europos, as both civil community and urban landscape? It was clearly profound, seen in the military transfiguration of so much of the city’s fabric. But was it as traumatic and negative as Rostovtzeff and his colleagues envisaged, with a once-proud Greek polis reduced to a diminished, cowed, and brutalized satellite village of a Roman military camp? Or was it indeed more benign or even positive, seeing cordial shared urban prosperity based on a military-pay-induced economic boom, as more recent commentators like Stoll, Reeve, Sommer, and Ruffing have variously sketched? What does the new study of the archaeological evidence indicate? In some ways, it is now clear that impact of the military was even greater than the Yale expedition realized. As we have seen, the base area included the Citadel and most or even all of the N branch of the inner wadi, and so was significantly larger than hitherto thought. On the other hand, far from being the result of a sudden, short, massively disruptive episode of appropriation, conversion, demolition, and building c.210 as envisaged by Rostovtzeff, the base evolved incrementally over half a century, apparently beginning with the Palmyrene archers’ cantonment of the later 160s. This reflected a history of residence of substantial Roman regular forces in the city starting considerably earlier than previously envisaged, correspondingly characterized by incremental change. On present evidence, instead of massively expanding c.210, resident troop numbers may have peaked c.190, with little or no increase when the garrison was reshaped c.210, which episode saw qualitative change (replacement of some auxilia by legionaries), rather than quantitative. We have no clear evidence of significant subsequent variation in troop levels between the 210s and 250, although these cannot be ruled out. There was, then, a large presence of Roman troops inside the walls during the last decades of the second century, as well as the first half of the third. This has significant implications for wider political history, as well as local affairs.
Conclusion: Chiaroscuro
Authors: James Simon
Published: November 2020

This project has explored the archaeology of Dura’s imperial Roman military base, and also considered other material traces of the presence of soldiers in the city, e.g. at the Palmyrene Gate and creation of urban baths. As such it here synthesizes the archaeological evidence of a literal quarter (or more) of this globally important archaeological site. It offers an example of the still under-appreciated potential of ‘legacy data sets’ and archival archaeology, and of resurveying ‘old sites’, to generate significant new knowledge, making best use of limited resources. It also considers ‘legacy ideas’ as well as more recent publications to generate new understandings of garrison, base, and city. I hope that this volume will further constitute a useful contribution to the study of the Roman armies, and the soldiers in their ranks. I also hope that it will establish that the military aspect is a vital part of the story of Dura itself, especially for the Roman era, and that the military base and the people who lived in it cannot be treated as literally and figuratively peripheral to Durene studies. The foregoing presents what has been a visually led project, and also one of space and of movement within it. It was conducted through a combination of examining the largely image-based archival records of the Yale/French Academy expedition and direct observation of the fabric of the city, especially of the remains exposed by the original excavations as they were between 2005 and 2010. It has also generated entirely new data expanding the picture through geophysical prospection of the unexcavated portions of the base area and vicinity. Physically moving around the topography of the former city and, where it was still partially upstanding, through some of its spaces, provided many key insights. Others derived from considering plans, aerial photographs, magnetometry plots, and recent satellite images. Not least, interpretations arose from generating the new drawings, largely plans, featured in this book.
Wandering Abroad: Ethnographic Journeys in the City
Authors: Kiddey Rachael
Published: November 2020

I agreed to meet Punk Paul on Stokes Croft at around 8 a.m. Paul was exactly where he said he would be—behind the bin next to The Big Issue office. In his early forties, Punk Paul was everything a punk should be—a devout follower of punk bands across the UK, he sported a blue Mohican (when bathroom facilities and soap rations permitted), army issue boots and a battered leather jacket covered in ‘anti-fa’ (anti-fascist) symbols. Paul fashioned the rest of his clothes from whatever he was given by church volunteers and picked up along the way. His distain of authority was firm but friendly. ‘Evening officer,’ he could often be heard saying, with a wink, to local police who regularly busted him for drinking in ‘no drinking zones’. ‘Could you spare a few shekels for an old sea dog? I’m trying to get together a pirate ship to sail off the end of the earth!’ ‘I have to pay Abdul £10.03,’ Paul said, as I approached. Abdul, Stokes Croft’s kindly but long-suffering newsagent, let some homeless people, including Paul, have beer on tick. We walked the short distance from the post office to Abdul’s shop and I waited outside with my dogs while Paul paid his debt. He was holding a can of Tennant’s lager when he reappeared. ‘It’s sort of a constant debt that I have with Abdul!’ He grinned before leading the way down City Road, Brighton Road, and onto Wilder Street. ‘You have to see this place! If you want to see what homelessness is really like in this country . . . this city could be any city, if you ask me. You have to see this place!’ We continued down Wilder Street until we reached a semi-derelict building. Through peeling paint it was possible to read ‘Bristol Transmissions’ above the long-ago boarded-up shop window. ‘It’s known as “The Black House”,’ Paul said, pushing the door. A padlock had been smashed off. Inside, there were two downstairs rooms, both hugely decayed with missing floorboards.
Introducing Banburismus
Authors: Simpson Edward
Published: November 2020

Once the bombes got going, they made a massive electromechanical attack on the Enigma’s daily-changing key. But with limited numbers of bombes, the demand on them had to be minimized. For the Naval Enigma, Hut 8 used a cryptanalytic process called ‘Banburismus’ to reduce the amount of processing that the bombes had to do. Banburismus was largely a manual process—although with a vital contribution from the cardsorting machines in the Hollerith section—and employed a handful of the best cryptanalysts, with a large supporting team of WRNS (‘Wrens’) and civilian ‘girls’. The startling recent discovery of Banburies in the roof of Hut 6 at Bletchley Park adds a new twist to the story. There is much high drama in the story of breaking and reading Enigma:… • the secret meeting of British and French cryptanalysts with their Polish counterparts outside Warsaw in late July 1939 (see Chapter 11) • Colonel Stewart Menzies (later to be ‘C’, the head of the Secret Intelligence Service) waiting at London’s Victoria Station in mid-August 1939, in evening dress and with the Légion d’honneur rosette in his buttonhole, to receive a Polish-made replica Enigma machine from the French Intelligence’s Gustave Bertrand • the Royal Navy’s Anthony Fasson and Colin Grazier of HMS Petard kick-restarting the reading of U-boat Enigma in October 1942 when Hut 8 had been shut out of it for ten months, their gallantry commemorated by posthumous George Crosses for securing Enigma materials from the sinking U-559 at the cost of their lives • some two hundred purpose-built bombes clicking away endlessly at Bletchley Park and its outstations (see Chapter 12)…. At first sight, the quaintly named ‘Banburismus’ component of breaking Enigma offered no high drama. Both the mathematics it was based on and the technology of its application dated back some two hundred years to the eighteenth century. Yet the handful of cryptanalysts and supporting ‘girls’ who employed Banburismus—building on Alan Turing’s genius and carried forward by Hugh Alexander’s leadership and ingenuity in method—multiplied in manifold ways the quantity of naval intelligence that those bombes could produce.
Network Perspectives on the Past: Tackling the Challenges
Authors: Brughmans Tom , Collar Anna
Published: November 2020

As his keynote address to the 1990 Sunbelt Social Networks conference, Mark Granovetter presented a paper entitled ‘The Myth of Social Network Analysis as a Special Method in the Social Sciences’ (Granovetter 1990). In it, he described how the popular social network theory he proposed, ‘The Strength of Weak Ties’ (Granovetter 1973), was like a spectre that haunted his academic career: although he subsequently pursued other research interests, he found that ‘as I got more deeply into any subject, network ideas kept coming in the back door’. He concluded that social network analysis (SNA) is not a ‘special’ method in social science, because ‘no part of social life can be properly analysed without seeing how it is fundamentally embedded in networks of social relations’ (Granovetter 1990: 15). However, he noted that to many, SNA is an alien concept: ‘we need to remember that there are many scholars outside the house of social network analysis who think in a relational way but don’t see the kinship with network methods and ideas’ (Granovetter 1990: 15). This observation echoes the current position of network studies in archaeology and history. Few would argue that relationships between social entities are not important for understanding past social processes. However, more explicit application of network theories and methods is not yet a mainstream part of our disciplines. Although it is the case that some researchers are not aware of the advantages such perspectives might offer, the current ‘niche’ status of network applications in archaeological and historical research relates to a more general misperception: that network concepts and methodologies per se are simply not appropriate for use in research in these disciplines. This volume aims to address both issues: the contributions in this volume demonstrate both the enormous potential of network methodologies, and also—and perhaps more importantly—acknowledge and address a range of perceived problems and reservations relating to the application of network perspectives to the study of the past, thereby encouraging and enabling their wider use in archaeology and history. The full diversity of network perspectives has only been introduced in our disciplines relatively recently.
Origins
Authors: Mitchell Peter
Published: November 2020

Over 50,000 years ago a Neanderthal hunter approached a wild ass on the plains of northeastern Syria. Taking aim from the right as the animal nervously assessed the threat, he launched his stone-tipped spear into its neck, penetrating the third cervical vertebra and paralyzing it immediately. Butchered at the kill site, this bone and most of the rest of the animal were taken back to the hunter’s camp at Umm el Tlel, a short distance away. Closely modelled on archaeological observations of that vertebra and the Levallois stone point still embedded within it, this incident helps define the framework for this chapter. At the start of the period it covers, human interactions with the donkey’s ancestors were purely a matter of hunting wild prey, but by its end the donkey had been transformed into a domesticated animal. Chapter 2 thus looks at how this process came about, where it did so, and what the evolutionary history of the donkey’s forebears had been until that point. Donkeys and the wild asses that are their closest relatives form part of the equid family to which zebras and horses also belong. Collectively, equids, like rhinoceroses and tapirs, fall within the Perissodactyla, the odd-toed division of hoofed mammals or ungulates. Though this might suggest a close connection with the much larger order known as the Artiodactyla, the even-toed antelopes (including deer, cattle, sheep, and goats), their superficial resemblances may actually reflect evolutionary convergence; some genetic studies hint that perissodactyls are more closely related to carnivores. Like tapirs and rhinoceroses, the earliest equids had three toes, not the one that has characterized them for the past 40 million years. That single toe, the third, now bears all their weight in the form of a single, enlarged hoof with the adjacent toes reduced to mere splints. This switch, and the associated elongation of the third (or central) metapodial linking the toe to the wrist or ankle, is one of the key evolutionary transformations through which equids have passed. A second involves diet since the earliest perissodactyls were all browsers, not grazers like the equids of today.
The Triumph of the Mule
Authors: Mitchell Peter
Published: November 2020

This chapter starts as the Roman Empire fragmented, encompasses the emergence of Christianity and Islam, and explores the donkey’s place in the history of the Middle Ages, as well as what Fernand Braudel termed ‘the triumph of the mule’ in the ensuing early modern period from the fifteenth to the nineteenth centuries. Being closer in time to the present, historical documents are generally richer and more plentiful than for earlier periods, but archaeological excavations and surveys—especially of post-medieval sites and landscapes—are still undeveloped in many regions. Inevitably, therefore, what I present draws as much on textual sources as it does on them. I look first at the symbolic value of donkeys and mules in Christianity and Islam. Next, I consider their disappearance from some parts of Europe in the aftermath of Rome’s collapse and their re-expansion and persistence elsewhere. One aspect of this concerns their continuing contribution to agricultural production, another their consumption as food, a very un-Roman practice. A second theme showing continuities from previous centuries is their significance in facilitating trade and communication over both short and long distances. Tackling this requires inserting donkeys and mules into debates about how far pack animals replaced wheeled forms of transport as Late Antiquity gave way to the Middle Ages. Wide-ranging in time and space, this discussion also provides opportunities for exploring their role in human history in areas beyond those on which I have concentrated thus far. West Africa is one, the Silk Road networks linking China to Central Asia a second, and China’s southward connections into Southeast Asia a third. According to the New Testament Jesus entered Jerusalem on Palm Sunday seated on a donkey (Plate 20). The seventh-century apocryphal Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew also envisages donkeys carrying His mother to Bethlehem, being present at the Nativity, and conveying the Holy Family into temporary exile in Egypt. Donkeys thus framed both ends of Jesus’ life and, given their importance in moving people and goods in first-century Palestine, must have been a familiar sight. But the implications of their place in Christianity’s narrative were originally quite different from those that are generally understood today.
Habeas Corpus: Contested Ownership of Casualties of the Great War
Authors: Brown Martin
Published: November 2020

There are still tens of thousands of missing soldiers from the Great War, 1914–18. The nature of the conflict—particularly on the Western Front where the front lines moved very little for long periods, and where men disappeared into the mud of no-man’s-land between the lines of trenches, or were buried on the battlefield, only to have their graves destroyed by artillery fire, or lost as the front line moved—means that all the conflicting nations have significant numbers of missing combatants. Each year, agriculture, development, and archaeological work undertaken in the conflict zone uncover remains of fallen soldiers. These remains are regarded in a different way to other human remains, particularly those found on more traditional archaeological excavations, such as Roman sites, and are subject to different and sometimes contesting claims of ownership. Some of these claims are based in law, others originate in biological or fictive kin affiliations, whether familial, martial, or locational, national, or even archaeological. It may even come from membership of special interest groups that study and/or memorialize the conflict, or from ownership of the ground on which bodies were found. These ties and claims may be conflicting and/or complementary. As a result, an archaeologist who encounters and recovers such remains will find themselves engaged in a complex legal, social, and political landscape in which they are unable to adopt an objective position regarding both the people whom they study and the numerous interests and agents with whom they must engage. Where human remains occur on traditional archaeological excavations in Europe, the remains are unlikely to be the subject of controversy or contestation, although there have been recent moves by neo-pagans to make treatment of human remains an issue in Britain (CoBDO 2010). The situation is much less clear as regards the remains of fallen soldiers from the Great War; their discovery raises questions of ownership, both actual and perceived and the key question is: ‘To whom does the body belong?’ The Great War, 1914–18, was one of appalling loss. The British Empire alone lost 956,703 uniformed personnel (War Office 1922: 237).
Contemporary Pagans and the Study of the Ancestors
Authors: Rathouse William
Published: November 2020

In 2007, English Heritage and the National Trust initiated a public consultation process regarding the display of human remains at the Alexander Keiller Museum at Avebury. This was a response to contemporary Pagan calls for reburial of a child’s skeleton displayed there (BBC News 2007; Jenkins 2011 and this volume; Tatham this volume; Thackray and Payne 2009; Historic England 2015). This chapter derives from ethnographic research (semistructured interviews and participant observation fieldwork) undertaken between April 2008 and March 2012 for a doctoral research project as well as nearly twenty years of personal engagement with the British Pagan community. This project was designed to provide qualitative analysis of relations between heritage and archaeological professionals and contemporary Pagans and did not attempt to establish any quantitative data on the proportions of people in these groups who hold particular views. It focused on the arguments and ideas behind contestation of sites and human remains. This chapter examines how the archaeology of ancient human remains aids contemporary Pagans to reinvent beliefs and emulate practices of the pre-Christian past. It also explores how excavation and display of human remains provides an arena for counter-cultural elements of contemporary Paganism to contest the authority of the heritage establishment. The sheer diversity of values, practices, and expression make it challenging to define contemporary Paganism. Pagans usually conceptualize the divine as immanent in nature either as pantheism (the divine permeates reality) or panentheism (the divine permeates reality but also exists beyond it). The divine may be seen as unified (monotheism), gendered polarities of the God and the Goddess (duotheism), or multi-faceted (polytheism). Additionally, some Pagans may be animists, which Harvey (2005: xi) defines as the belief that the world is inhabited by many persons, only some of whom are human, or even be atheists. Harvey (2005: 28, 2013: 206–10) suggests that religions may be better defined by their practices and behaviours rather than their beliefs. This is slightly harder to do with Paganism since most Wiccans and Druids tend to practice their rites by standing in circles of fellow Pagans and invoking elemental spirits at the four cardinal directions, while many Shamans, Heathens, and other reconstructionists do not.
Psychological treatment
Authors: McKnight Rebecca , Price Jonathan , Geddes John
Published: November 2020

Psychological treatment is ubiquitous in medical prac­tice: all doctors use psychological treatment tech­niques every day, with every patient. This is because the words that we use when we speak (or write) to patients have the power to heal (or to harm). This is the essence of the psychological treatments: they are treatments that use the power of words to improve the physical and emotional state of patients. Carefully chosen words can improve your patient’s morale, engage them with self- care, encourage them to adhere to medicines and to attend appointments, and reassure them that the resumption of normal daily ac­tivities is permissible and indeed desirable. Ill- chosen words can increase dependency, disability, and dis­tress. All doctors therefore need to be able to use the core psychological techniques every day. These tech­niques (see Box 14.1) are involved in every healthcare relationship, whether in psychiatry or other specialties. … ● Develop a therapeutic relationship. This can improve a patient’s adherence to more formal psychological treatment, sustain them through periods of distress, and instil hope. In an appropriate therapeutic relationship, patients should feel that the professional is concerned about them and takes time for them, but also understand that the relationship is distinct from friendship, and is one that the professional also has with other patients. Occasionally a patient– professional relationship can become too intense so that it impedes progress (see ‘Independence versus dependence’)…. ● Actively listen to your patient’s concerns. Patients feel helped when they describe their problems to a sympathetic person, and many complain that doctors do not listen for long enough before they offer advice. To be effective, listening requires adequate time. Patients should feel that they have the doctor’s undivided attention and have been understood. Use non- verbal signs of attention. Summarize verbally, and check out understanding of what has been said. Finally, summarize the patient’s perspective in clinical letters which are copied to patients. ● Allow the expression of emotion. It is a common experience that the expression of strong emotion is followed by a sense of relief. Some patients feel ashamed to reveal their feelings to others and need to be assured that to do this is not a sign of weakness.
Social treatments
Authors: McKnight Rebecca , Price Jonathan , Geddes John
Published: November 2020

The most common approach to providing comprehen­sive treatment for patients with mental health prob­lems is the biopsychosocial model. This chapter will focus on social interventions. The majority of patients with a mental disorder will have some social difficulties. This might include needing time off work temporarily while unwell, or finding more appropriate accommodation or employ­ment. These patients can usually be helped by giving general support and advice, perhaps with minimal input from a social worker or the voluntary sector. Patients with severe, enduring mental illnesses often have much more complex social challenges. These typ­ically involve multiple areas and have usually come about due to the individual’s illness reducing the skills they can draw upon to live independently. The process by which medicine helps patients to regain their inde­pendence after illness is called rehabilitation. The aim of rehabilitation is to reintegrate the individual back into their community and ensure their ongoing well-being. Ideally, rehabilitation aims to change the natural course of a psychiatric disorder, but more frequently it just assists the patient in making life changes that allow them to manage more satisfactorily in their en­vironment. The patients who most commonly benefit from rehabilitation are those with features including: … ● persistent psychopathology (e.g. ongoing hallucinations in schizophrenia); ● frequent relapses (e.g. mania or depression in bipolar disorder); ● social maladaption (e.g. isolation, chaotic antisocial behaviour). … The key benefits of rehabilitation include: … ● that the patient moves away from the ‘sick role’ and starts to see him- or herself as a well individual again; ● improvement in quality of life; ● reduction in relapses of bipolar disorder and psychotic illnesses; ● reduction in social stigma surrounding mental health disorders. … In the UK and many other countries, social workers are key players in arranging social interventions for pa­tients. However, in order for a rehabilitative process to be successful, it is essential that the multidisciplinary team (psychiatrist, GP, CPN, and social worker) all work together. The usual areas that a social worker can help with include the following: … ● Finances: help with claiming and managing benefits, managing money. ● Accommodation: applying for funding for social or supported accommodation, liaising with social housing associations or landlords.
Assumptions
Authors: Hanson Robin
Published: November 2020

The concept of whole brain emulation has been widely discussed in futurism ( Martin 1971 ; Moravec 1988 ; Hanson 1994b , 2008b ; Shulman 2010 ; Alstott 2013 ; Eth et al. 2013 ; Bostrom 2014 ) and in science fiction ( Clarke 1956 ; Egan 1994 ; Brin 2002 ; Vinge 2003 ; Stross 2006 ) for many decades. Sometimes emulations are called “uploads.” Let me now try to be clearer about the technological assumptions whose consequences I seek to explore. When I refer to a “brain” here, I refer not just to neurons in a head, but also to other supporting cells in the head, and to neurons and key closely connected systems elsewhere in the human body, such as the systems that manage hormones. Using that terminology, I assume, following a wellestablished consensus in the cognitive and brain sciences, that “the mind is just the brain” ( Bermúdez 2010 ). That is, what the brain fundamentally does is to take input signals from eyes, ears, skin, etc., and after a short delay produces both internal state changes and output signals to control muscles, hormone levels, and other body changes. The brain does not just happen to transform input signals into state changes and output signals; this transformation is the primary function of the brain, both to us and to the evolutionary processes that designed brains. The brain is designed to make this signal processing robust and efficient. Because of this, we expect the physical variables (technically, “degrees of freedom”) within the brain that encode signals and signal-relevant states, which transform these signals and states, and which transmit them elsewhere, to be overall rather physically isolated and disconnected from the other far more numerous unrelated physical degrees of freedom and processes in the brain. That is, changes in other aspects of the brain only rarely influence key brain parts that encode mental states and signals. We have seen this disconnection in ears and eyes, and it has allowed us to create useful artificial ears and eyes, which allow the once-deaf to hear and the once-blind to see. We expect the same to apply to artificial brains more generally. In addition, it appears that most brain signals are of the form of neuron spikes, which are especially identifiable and disconnected from other physical variables.
Groups
Authors: Hanson Robin
Published: November 2020

By analogy with a family clan today, we can take all of the copy descendants of a single original human, and call that group a “clan.” All of the copy descendants of a particular em can be called a “subclan.” (While the term “clade” might be more precise, the term “clan” is more widely known.) How do clans and subclans organize? We are today each part of many organizations, such as neighborhoods, firms, clubs, and nations. But we rely most on our families when we seek strong long-term bonds and trust. It is within families that we most share resources, let ourselves be most vulnerable, and seek help in bad times. Long ago humans evolved to trust families more than other groupings because of their closer genetic relations, and have developed many family-specific adaptations to complement such unusually strong family trust. Identical twins are more closely related than are family members. Because of the rarity of such twins, however, our ancestors may have evolved few adaptations specific to twinning. Even so, the trust and bonds between identical twins seems to usually be stronger than those between other family members. Ems will have access to a new unit of organization: clans of copies of the same original person. Compared with families or even identical twins, ems have even stronger reasons to trust and bond with fellow clan members. This makes em copy clans a natural candidate unit for finance, reproduction, legal liability, and political representation. The degree of affiliation between two em copies depends on how long they have been diverging subjectively since their last common ancestor. Copies that have diverged for only an hour are likely to feel very strongly affiliated. They’d share almost all opinions and attitudes, and are usually willing to make great sacrifices for one another. On the other hand, copies that have diverged for 20 years may feel far less of a connection. They might have been trained for different professions, and live in different kinds of communities. Their personalities and political opinions might even have diverged.
Community and Identity in Material Culture
Authors: Wynne-Jones Stephanie
Published: November 2020

The identification of a cultural grouping termed ‘Swahili’ has long rested on the ability to discern a commonality of material and social environment across an enormous region, aspects of which have been discussed in previous chapters. Clearly, the coast and offshore islands of eastern Africa have been interconnected to a significant degree throughout the precolonial period, in a similar way to that noted in colonial histories. One of the key data sources for that ongoing interaction is the record of historical linguistics, which has traced a spread of Swahili languages from a north-eastern homeland southwards along the coast and to the Comoro archipelago. This has not only offered a crucial challenge to models of external origins, but also serves as a guide to the ongoing interactions that have made dialects of Swahili mutually intelligible more than 1,000 years since their original divergence. This mobility and entanglement are also invoked as causation for the ‘community of material culture that remained relatively constant over 3,000 kilometres of archipelagic civilization’ (Prestholdt 1998: 8). Certainly for the historical period, sources suggest that cultural cohesiveness was maintained through regular coasting travel along the littoral (Sheriff 2010). This seems likely also to have been the case in the deeper past, which resulted in similarities along the coastline over the longer term. Horton and Middleton (2000: 5) discuss this in enduring terms: ‘[the Swahili] have comprised a single social and cultural entity, Swahili society, with its own unique civilization of which they are deeply proud and possessive.’ These patterns of commonality have to some extent been the subject of this entire volume, but this chapter specifically explores the route by which communities of material culture were produced and maintained. Clearly this is more than simply a case of proximity or contact. Through attention to the shifting geography of coastal connections over time, it also becomes clear that the situation encountered by the Portuguese and later Europeans on the coast, while indicative, was not necessarily representative of the coast through time.
Romano-British material culture
Authors: Rippon Stephen
Published: November 2020

The apparent adoption of a relatively uniform repertoire of material culture by Romano-British communities is one reflection of what in the past has been referred to as ‘Romanization’ (e.g. Haverfield 1912; Millett 1990), and as Eckardt (2014, 127) has noted, ‘public and academic perception has perhaps had a tendency to focus on the homogenizing influence of Roman trade and, within the theoretical framework of Romanization, to look for uniformity rather than local diversity’. The concept of Romanization has, however, recently come in for much criticism (e.g. Mattingly 2006; 2011; Revell 2016), one problem being that there is far more regional variation in artefact styles than was once thought. Dress accessories, for example, will reflect current local communal traditions, family heirlooms, religious beliefs, and what is currently fashionable, as well as wealth and status (Swift 2000b, 27–9). Regionality is clearer in the early Roman period, after which it was replaced by greater uniformity (e.g. hairpins: Cool 2000), although it is still present in some classes of later Roman material (e.g. military buckles and belt-fittings: discussed further below). While many forms of artefact were used very widely across Roman Britain, such as certain types of brooches (Bayley and Butcher 2004, figs. 166–79; Mackreth 2011) and toilet instruments (e.g. Eckardt and Crummy 2008), there were some regionally specific variants. ‘Polden Hill’ brooches, for example, were largely used in the West Midlands and the West Country (Bayley and Butcher 2004, fig. 171), rear-hook brooches in East Anglia (Plouviez 2008; 2014, 35–6), and the ‘Head Stud’ type in Yorkshire and the East Midlands (Pearce and Worrell 2014, fig. 6). Walton (2012, 37–41) has even identified some marked regional differences in coin loss. Some have argued that regionally distinctive styles of artefact were used to directly signal a particular tribal or civitas identity. Laycock (2008, fig. 51), for example, has mapped stylistic variation in late fourth-century belt-fittings and argued for distinct types that he believes were related to the putative Icenian, Trinovantian, Catuvellaunian, and Corieltauvian civitates.
Introduction
Authors: Willetts David
Published: November 2020

I love universities. You just have to look at the posters stuck to walls and notice- boards. They add up to a picture of the good life—invitations to join sports teams, orchestras, social projects, new drama productions, and charity fund-raising stunts; together with public intellectuals giving guest lectures, performances by indie bands, and of course the occasional student protest against some injustice. I was on the receiving end of a few student protests myself over the years when I was minister for universities and science. Sometimes they were quite unpleasant, but usually well-intentioned young people just did not accept what I was trying to do or why. One incident captured what is special about university, even in those unpropitious circumstances. A group of perhaps forty protesters at Southampton University were shouting denunciations of the Coalition’s fees policy. I went over and tried to talk to them but they could not hear my replies so they lent me their loud-hailer to hear my argument better. Then I gave it back so they could broadcast their reply. They returned it to me again and so we carried on the exchanges. Their anger could not suppress their curiosity. It was really rather moving. The university is the institution which, above all, fosters and sustains such intellectual curiosity and openness. The university is the place where everything we think we know can be challenged and where new ideas are generated and transmitted to future generations so they will be better educated than us. A belief in the possibility of progress is one of the exceptional values of Western civilization and universities embody it because they operate at the intellectual frontier. It is why the university is one of the great institutions of the modern world—as important as the democratic legislature, an independent judiciary, or the joint stock company. The first part of the book is about how the university has grown to such importance and why it works the way it does. A medieval concept, the independent corporation, has proved to be extraordinarily well suited to one of the most important eighty-five or so major institutions which already existed in Europe five hundred years ago and still exist now, seventy of them are universities.
Robbins and After
Authors: Willetts David
Published: November 2020

The early 1960s saw the biggest transformation of English higher education of the past hundred years. It is only matched by the break-up of the Oxbridge monopoly and the early Victorian reforms. It will be forever associated with the name of Lionel Robbins, whose great report came out in November 1963: he is for universities what Beveridge is for social security. His report exuded such authority and was associated with such a surge in the number of universities and of students that Robbins has given his name to key decisions which had already been taken even before he put pen to paper. In the 1950s Britain’s twenty-five universities received their funding from fees, endowments (invested in Government bonds which had largely lost their value because of inflation since the First World War), and ‘deficit funding’ from the University Grants Committee, which was a polite name for subsidies covering their losses. The UGC had been established in 1919 and was the responsibility not of the Education Department but the Treasury, which was proud to fund these great national institutions directly. Like museums and art galleries, higher education was rarefied cultural preservation for a small elite. Public spending on higher education was less than the subsidy for the price of eggs. By 1962 there were 118,000 full-time university students together with 55,000 in teacher training and 43,000 in further education colleges. This total of 216,000 full-time higher education students broadly matches the number of academics now. Young men did not go off to university—they were conscripted into the army. The annual university intake of around 50,000 young people a year was substantially less than the 150,000 a year doing National Service. The last conscript left the army in the year Robbins was published. Reversing the balance between those two very different routes to adulthood was to change Britain. It is one of the many profound differences between the baby boomers and the generation that came before them. Just over half of students were ‘county scholars’ receiving scholarships for fees and living costs from their own local authority on terms decided by each council.