bluuebunny/crossref_metadata_2025 huggingface dataset:
Dental hard tissue pathologies, aetiology, and their clinical manifestations
Authors: Banerjee Avijit , Watson Timothy F.
Published: November 2020

Minimally invasive operative dentistry is that aspect of restorative dentistry which repairs and/or restores damaged and defective tooth structure directly in order to maintain pulp vitality, function, and aesthetics (see Figure 1.1). The primary goal is to respect tooth structure during this process, retaining viable and biologically repairable tissues to maintain tooth vitality for as long as possible. The hard tissue damage or defects can be caused by one or more of the following:… • caries • tooth wear • trauma • developmental conditions…. Minimum intervention oral healthcare is that approach to patient management where the oral healthcare team (comprised of the dentist, nurses, oral health educators, hygienists, therapists, technicians, reception staff, and practice managers), led by the dentist, act as one to provide individualized patient-centred care and advice to encourage the patient to take responsibility for and maintain their own oral health. Minimum intervention care revolves around methods of detection/ diagnosis/risk assessment of oral disease, non-operative control/ prevention of these conditions, minimally invasive operative repair of tissue damage, and review/maintenance/recall of the patient and the advice/care offered by the dentist/team (see Figure 1.1). The process of care planning involves the patient, including disease prevention by behaviour change and adherence, not just listing those operative procedures offered to restore damaged or defective teeth in isolation. It must be understood from the outset that even though minimally invasive operative dentistry has a pivotal role in the ‘surgical’ repair of damaged teeth, it alone does not provide the actual cure for dental disease— please understand that ‘drilling and filling teeth does not cure caries!’ The following sections will provide an overview of the four conditions mentioned previously with respect to their aetiology, histopathology, and microbiology where relevant. An attempt will be made to relate these features to the clinical manifestations of each condition, namely carious lesions and tooth-wear lesions.
Kindling
Authors: Scott Andrew C.
Published: November 2020

What does it take to make a fire? The factors underlying fire can be illustrated with a triangle, and five fire triangles, relevant to different scales in area and time, have been defined. Let’s start with the most basic, at the smallest scale. The ‘fire fundamentals triangle’ has three elements: fuel, as there needs to be something to burn; heat, because fires can’t start without a source of heat; and oxygen, essential for a fire to combust and spread. The importance of oxygen becomes obvious when we put out a fire. The use of sand or CO2, or even smothering, is a way to exclude air, and more specifically to remove oxygen from the system so that the combustion reaction stops. Water has two effects. It reduces the amount of oxygen getting to the fire, but more importantly the heat energy from the fire goes into evaporating the water rather than heating the fuel that allows the combustion reaction to continue. Our second triangle can be called the ‘fire environment triangle’. Here again, fuel forms one of the points. Another is the weather, as this controls the moisture in the fuel, affecting its flammability. The drier the fuel, the more easily it can burn. Perhaps surprisingly, the third point of the triangle is topography, which impacts on the rate and pattern of spread of the fire. Hill slopes, for instance, can provide an updraft of air that allows the fire to spread more quickly. The next triangle up widens our perspective in terms not only of spatial scale but also time. This triangle can be called the ‘fire regime triangle’. Here we consider not simply the fuel but the type of vegetation that is being burned. Some types of vegetation are more flammable than others. The overall climate is also significant at this bigger scale. For example, temperate seasonal climates are more fire-prone than wet tropical climates, where there is rain every day. The third arm of this triangle is landform: mountainous regions are more susceptible to fire than low-lying flat areas.
The Rise, Fall, and Rise of Fire
Authors: Scott Andrew C.
Published: November 2020

When I started my doctoral research in October 1973 I never imagined that I would spend so much of my career thinking about fire. I had not considered fire as an agent of change on Earth, or that charcoal deposits may preserve its long history on the planet. I had never thought of fire as a preservational mechanism for fossil plants, producing charcoal that would show their anatomy so that they could be identified, and help us to piece together the vegetation that must have clothed the land millions of years ago. In all my years of collecting fossils as a child and student I had never found, or at least noticed, any fossil charcoal. I had wanted to look at the ecology of the plants that were found during the Carboniferous, 300 million years ago. The natural approach was to look at the large fossil plants that could easily be found in rocks such as the Coal Measures that are often found scattered on old coal tips. But many smaller plant fragments are also preserved in the rocks. I started a programme of dissolving the rocks in acids and obtaining residues of the fossil plants that remained. The rocks are made up of minerals that dissolve in different acids from the plant fossils, which are made of organic material. It was hard work, and I spent many hours a day picking through the plant fragment residues, which were about the size of tea leaves, trying to identify what the fragments represented. Incredibly, at that time, few researchers had tried to look at plant fossils in this way. I soon noticed a large number of fragments that looked like charcoal, and examined these with an SEM. Under the SEM the astonishing detail in the charcoalified leaves was revealed (BW Plate 6). The small needle-like leaves had two beautifully preserved rows of stomata. But what kind of plant did they come from? I took the material to Bill Chaloner, who was one of the world’s authorities on the lycopods, one of the most common plants found in the coal measures.
When should a dentist restore a cavity?
Authors: Kidd Edwina , Fejerskov Ole
Published: November 2020

At the start of this book it was commented that some dentists see restorative dentistry (fillings) as the treatment of dental caries. These dentists see prevention of caries as a separate issue. The authors profoundly disagree with this. The previous chapters have shown how dental caries develops and what it is, so in this chapter it is important to ask the question ‘with this knowledge in mind, what is the role of restorations (restorative dentistry) in caries control?’ Are restorations required or can the problem be solved by sealing all surfaces in the oral cavity—or at least those parts where surface irregularities (occlusal fissures, grooves, pits, etc.) may favour biofilm stagnation? Therefore, this chapter starts with a discussion of so-called fissure sealants. On occlusal surfaces, caries lesions may form at the entrance to the fissure because this complex morphology may be difficult to clean, particularly in the erupting tooth that is below the level of the arch and tends to be missed as the toothbrush swings by. Fissure sealants cover the fissures with a flowable resin or highly viscous glass ionomer cement, so that they are easier to clean. Their effectiveness has been proved in many studies. When first introduced in developed nations, all molar surfaces were recommended for sealing to avoid caries development and the need for fillings. This ‘sealing all teeth’ policy would now be totally incorrect for two reasons: ◆ Caries can be controlled by cleaning alone. ◆ Many of these surfaces will never develop lesions, and this automatic sealing approach is over treatment and not cost-effective. The indications for fissure sealing are: ◆ Active fissure caries has been diagnosed, but attempts at caries control have not arrested lesion progression. ◆ Occlusal surfaces are often highly irregular, and filled with grooves and fissures, and the patient or parent either cannot, or will not, remove plaque effectively. This is particularly important in the erupting molar. This surface is particularly at risk of lesion development and progression because permanent teeth can take 6–12 months to erupt; indeed, third molars may take several years.
When? New Outline of Development and Chronology
Authors: James Simon
Published: November 2020

Such was the extent of the base in its final form, before the disruptions of the 250s. But how and when did it reach this extent and conformation? As we have seen, the small number of direct epigraphic dates coming from key structures in the military base concentrate c.209–16. While the Yale expedition were aware that there had been resident Roman auxiliaries from the later second century, and also identified (mostly erroneously) some components as belonging to the 220s–250s, they took this ‘epigraphic dating horizon’ as indicating that the military base, from camp wall to principia to baths, amphitheatre, and campus, including creation of most military accommodation, was overwhelmingly a rapid creation of the 210s. This notion of a sudden military transformation of the urban fabric at that time supposedly reflected a radical expansion of numbers of the Roman garrison—resulting in traumatic shock to the city. The concentration of dated inscriptions from the military base does seem to constitute a tight ‘epigraphic dating horizon’ c.209–16, or indeed c.209–12 if the amphitheatre was really an opportunistic coda. It certainly represents a major military building campaign. However, it has been misinterpreted, and its significance exaggerated, especially in taking it to mark effective creation of the base. Central to the ‘epigraphic horizon’, of course, is the dating of the principia to 211–12, with rebuilding of the Mithraeum around the same time. Other components of the programme may be implied by epigraphic information. Notably the detail of the undated inscription attesting building of the A1 Temple of the Roman Archers and expansion of the campus plausibly fits in the context of the 210s. However, the Yale project team pushed interpretation of the epigraphic evidence much too far in employing other texts to date military structures. While the ‘camp wall’ may well also have been built c.210, the epigraphic argument for this, comprising an inscription of debated reading not even found in proximity to the wall, is flimsy in the extreme. Similar misuse of epigraphic evidence is seen in the case of the three altars to Dolichenus found in X7.
Meeting a genius
Authors: Hilton Peter
Published: November 2020

I had the good fortune to work closely with Alan Turing and to know him well for the last 12 years of his short life. It is a rare experience to meet an authentic genius. Those of us privileged to inhabit the world of scholarship are familiar with the intellectual stimulation furnished by talented colleagues. We can admire the ideas they share with us and are usually able to understand their source; we may even often believe that we ourselves could have created such concepts and originated such thoughts. However, the experience of sharing the intellectual life of a genius is entirely different; one realizes that one is in the presence of an intelligence, a sensitivity of such profundity and originality that one is filled with wonder and excitement. Alan Turing was such a genius, and those, like myself, who had the astonishing and unexpected opportunity created by the strange exigencies of the Second World War to be able to count Turing as colleague and friend will never forget that experience, nor can we ever lose its immense benefit to us. Before the war, in 1935–36, Turing had done fundamental work in mathematical logic and had invented a concept that has come to be known as the ‘universal Turing machine’ (see Chapter 6). His purpose was to make precise the notion of a computable mathematical function, but he had in fact provided a blueprint for the most basic principles of computer design and for the foundations of computer science. I joined the distinguished team of mathematicians and first-class chess players working on the Enigma code in January 1942. Alan Turing was the acknowledged leading light of that team. However, I must emphasize that we were a team—this was no one-man show! Indeed, Turing’s contribution was somewhat different from that of the rest of the team, being more concerned with improving our methods, especially the machines we used to help us, and less concerned with our daily output of deciphered messages. It was due to the efforts of Turing and the entire team that Churchill was able to describe our work as ‘my secret weapon’.
Turing and the origins of digital computers
Authors: Randell Brian
Published: November 2020

In this chapter I describe my initial attempts at investigating, during the early 1970s, what Alan Turing did during the Second World War. My investigations grew out of a study of the work of Charles Babbage’s earliest successors—in particular, the Irish pioneer Percy Ludgate—a study that led me to plan an overall historical account of the origins of the digital computer. The investigation resulted in my learning about a highly secret programmable electronic computer developed in Britain during the Second World War. I revealed that this computer was named Colossus, and had been built in 1943 for Bletchley Park, the UK government’s wartime codebreaking establishment. However, my attempt to get the details of the machine declassified were unsuccessful, and I came to the conclusion that it might be a long time before anything more would become public about Bletchley Park and Colossus. Around 1970, while I was seeking information about the work of Charles Babbage and Ada Lovelace to use in my inaugural lecture at Newcastle University, I stumbled across the work of Percy Ludgate. In a paper he wrote about Babbage’s ‘automatic calculating engines’, Ludgate mentioned that he had also worked on the design of an Analytical Engine, indicating that he had described this in an earlier paper in the Proceedings of the Royal Dublin Society.From a copy of that paper I learned that an apparently completely forgotten Irish inventor had taken up and developed Babbage’s ideas for what would now be called a program-controlled mechanical computer. Previously I had subscribed to the general belief that over a century had passed before anyone had followed up Babbage’s pioneering 1837 work on Analytical Engines. This discovery led me to undertake an intensive investigation of Ludgate, the results of which I published in the Computer Journal. With the help of a number of Irish librarians and archivists I managed to find out quite a few details about the tragically short life of this Irish accountant, and even to make contact with one of his relatives. Unfortunately, I found nothing more about his design for a paper-tapecontrolled analytical machine beyond what was given in his 1909 paper. My investigations into the background to Ludgate’s work left me with a considerable amount of information on pre-computer technology and on other little-known successors to Babbage.
Connectionism: computing with neurons
Authors: Copeland Jack , Proudfoot Diane
Published: November 2020

Modern ‘connectionists’ are exploring the idea of using artificial neurons (artificial brain cells) to compute. Many see connectionist research as the route not only to artificial intelligence (AI) but also to achieving a deep understanding of how the human brain works. It is less well known than it should be that Turing was the first pioneer of connectionism. Digital computers are superb number crunchers. Ask them to predict a rocket’s trajectory or calculate the financial figures for a large multinational corporation and they can churn out the answers in seconds. But seemingly simple actions that people routinely perform, such as recognizing a face or reading handwriting, have been devilishly tricky to program. Perhaps the networks of neurons that make up a brain have a natural facility for these and other tasks that standard computers simply lack (Fig. 29.1). Scientists have therefore been investigating computers modelled more closely on the biological brain. Connectionism is the science of computing with networks of artificial neurons. Currently researchers usually simulate the neurons and their interconnections within an ordinary digital computer, just as engineers create virtual models of aircraft wings and skyscrapers. A training algorithm that runs on the computer adjusts the connections between the neurons, honing the network into a special-purpose machine dedicated to performing some particular function, such as forecasting international currency markets. In a famous demonstration of the potential of connectionism in the 1980s, James McClelland and David Rumelhart trained a network of 920 neurons to form the past tenses of English verbs. Verbs such as ‘come’, ‘look’, and ‘sleep’ were presented (suitably encoded) to the layer of input neurons. The automatic training system noted the difference between the actual response at the output neurons and the desired response (such as ‘came’) and then mechanically adjusted the connections throughout the network in such a way as to give the network a slight push in the direction of the correct response. About 400 different verbs were presented to the network one by one, and after each presentation the network’s connections were adjusted. By repeating this whole procedure approximately 200 times, the connections were honed to meet the needs of all the verbs in the training set. The network’s training was now complete, and without further intervention it could form the past tenses of all the verbs in the training set.
Child machines
Authors: Proudfoot Diane
Published: November 2020

This chapter outlines Turing’s key ideas in artificial intelligence (AI) and charts his legacy in the field of robot intelligence. In 1950 Turing suggested that one approach to machine intelligence would be to provide a machine with ‘the best sense organs that money can buy’, and then ‘teach it to understand and speak English’. After decades of struggle to create intelligent software, the current goal of many researchers in AI is indeed to build ‘socially intelligent’ robots—machines with vision and hearing and primitive communicative abilities. The grand aspiration of these theorists is to create what Turing called a ‘child machine’—a machine that, like a human infant, can point, smile, recognize its carer’s face, and learn to distinguish itself from others. In this chapter I discuss Turing’s child machine and its descendants in modern cognitive and developmental robotics. In 1950 Turing said: ‘Instead of trying to produce a programme to simulate the adult mind, why not rather try to produce one which simulates the child’s? If this were then subjected to an appropriate course of education one would obtain the adult brain’. His ‘guiding principle’ in the attempt to build intelligent machines was to follow the development of intelligence in the human being: If we are trying to produce an intelligent machine, and are following the human model as closely as we can, we should begin with a machine with very little capacity to carry out elaborate operations or to react in a disciplined manner to orders . . . Then by applying appropriate interference, mimicking education, we should hope to modify the machine until it could be relied on to produce definite reactions to certain commands. This would be the beginning of the process…. Turing called this simple machine a ‘child machine’ and said that it must learn ‘initiative’ as well as discipline, so that it can modify its own instructions and make its own ‘choices’. When it does so, it has ‘grown up’—and then ‘one is obliged to regard the machine as showing intelligence’. According to Turing, this is just to follow the example of the human child: when a child learns to make discoveries independently of her teacher, the teacher does not claim the credit.
How Reliable are Centrality Measures for Data Collected from Fragmentary and Heterogeneous Historical Sources? A Case Study
Authors: Düring Marten
Published: November 2020

In social network analysis, centrality measures are used to translate empirical and common sense observations of social behaviour into mathematical expressions. In order to assess how well an algorithm performs in conditions of imperfect data, researchers typically first select either a random or a realworld network, compute a variety of centrality measures, and declare these values to be their point of reference. In a second step, they manipulate these referential networks by adding or removing nodes or ties, again either randomly or following a set of rules. They then compare the centrality measures of the referential network to the ones gathered from the manipulated network. Borgatti et al. (2006) used this approach on a large number of randomly generated networks and found that as long as manipulations were minor (c.10 per cent), results remained reasonably similar to the referential networks’ measures. This approach helps to shed light on the impact of false and missing data on centrality computations, and also helps us to assess the ability of these algorithms to describe social reality (as we reconstruct it) itself. It is surprising that the effectiveness of centrality measures to accurately describe notoriously vague concepts such as ‘power’ or ‘influence’ has not been used alongside empirical observations more often (similarly: Zemljič and Hlebec 2005: 74). In this chapter, I will compare the performance of common centrality measures with the results of an in-depth reconstruction of six historical networks: in this case, support networks for persecuted Jews during the Second World War. Data were extracted from historical narratives, contemporary and retrospective autobiographical reports, interviews, applications for remuneration, and police interrogations. These sources provide a high level of detailed contextual information about the respective ties and actions they represent. It has now become common knowledge that a small minority of Jews managed to survive the Holocaust in hiding and with support from a small and diverse group of helpers. Soon after the end of the Second World War, historians, sociologists, (social) psychologists, and scholars from many other disciplines began to analyse stories of help and survival and found several answers to what seemed to be the key question: ‘Why did helpers decide to help?’
Thinking about diagnosis
Authors: McKnight Rebecca , Price Jonathan , Geddes John
Published: November 2020

Diagnosis performs a useful function because it allows us to classify patients into groups. This enables us to: … ● study diagnostic groups, so that we can learn more about aetiology, prognosis, risks, and treatment through research; ● communicate briefly but effectively with other healthcare professionals about a specific patient— rather than having to list the specific features in every case, we have a convenient shorthand; ● predict the likely aetiology, prognosis, risks, and effective treatments in a specific patient, based on evidence from other people with that diagnosis. The process of diagnosis in mental health is not uni­versally accepted as being appropriate. This stems from concerns that diagnosis: … ● labels people with mental illness with names that may be unhelpful and stigmatizing, such as ‘personality disorder’ or ‘schizophrenia’; ● excessively simplifies the details of a particular person’s predicament, so that a person’s uniqueness is not acknowledged; ● relies upon an understanding of illness (existing classification systems) that does not reflect real illness categories, and therefore has low validity; ● relies upon the interpretation of the individual clinician, and therefore has low reliability— clinicians presented with the same information (the same patient) may draw different diagnostic conclusions…. We would argue that the rationale for diag­nosis is strong, that no realistic alternative exists, and that the advantages of this approach far out­weigh the disadvantages. When diagnostic assess­ment is conducted thoroughly and appropriately, it focuses very much on the detail of the patient’s psychological, physical, and social situation, and emphasizes the particular aspects of an individual’s case. It is therefore crucial that, when you are pre­senting a case, you stress those points, so that your case description is rich and individual, rather than being bland and general. The former reflects a real, unique person; the latter reflects a textbook description. In psychiatry, diagnosis is rarely just one simple term describing the patient’s medical situation. As we have seen so far while considering assessment, there is usually more than one issue, and sometimes many, whether within the biological, psychological, or social domains. This complexity needs to be reflected in the shorthand of diagnosis. One way in which psychiatric diagnosis has achieved this in an ordered way is by adopting a multiaxial classification, in which several axes reflect different aspects of the patient’s situation.
Risk assessment and management
Authors: McKnight Rebecca , Price Jonathan , Geddes John
Published: November 2020

Increased risk of harm to self and others occurs in sev­eral mental disorders, and the prediction and assess­ment of risk has become an important component of psychiatric practice. Fatal self- harm— or suicide— is the most important risk to assess. At least a brief assessment of suicidal risk should be included in all psychiatric assessments. However, harm to others— both homicide and non- fatal harm— is increased in some mental disorders, and a thorough assessment of the nature, severity, and likeli­hood of such risks will often form an important part of a psychiatric assessment. When assessing risk, it is useful to consider static and dynamic risk factors. Static risk factors cannot be changed, whereas dynamic risk fac­tors change over time and include mental disorder. Generally, the assessment of risk should include: … ● the nature of the risk; ● the probability of the risk in the short and longer term; ● whether there are any factors that increase the risk; ● whether there are any factors that decrease the risk; ● whether there are any interventions that may reduce the risk. … A risk management plan will aim to: … ● reduce the risk; ● review the risk. … Often, the most appropriate intervention to reduce risk will be to ensure that the patient is offered the most effective treatment for their specific condition. For example, a depressed person with suicidal idea­tion may be offered a low- toxicity antidepressant and regular follow- up. On the other hand, the management of a new mother with a postpartum psychotic depres­sive disorder who has thoughts of harming her new child may involve specific intervention to reduce the risk of harm to her baby as well as effective therapy for the depressive disorder. Many patients deliberately take drug overdoses or harm themselves in other ways. Some die (suicide, completed suicide); others survive (attempted suicide, parasuicide, or deliberate self- harm). The characteris­tics of those who kill themselves and those who harm themselves are rather different, although they overlap.
General aspects of care: settings of care
Authors: McKnight Rebecca , Price Jonathan , Geddes John
Published: November 2020

Current mental healthcare services in most of the de­veloped world are unrecognizable compared with those of the mid twentieth century. There has been a major shift from long- term institutional to community care. This chapter describes current approaches to pro­viding mental health services, particularly for people between the ages of 18 and 65 (services for children are discussed in Chapter 17, and services for the elderly in Chapter 18). It is important for all doctors to have a basic understanding of the structure of services for three main reasons: … 1 It will help you to get the most out of clinical rotations in psychiatry, either at undergraduate or postgraduate level. 2 All clinicians need to know when and how to refer their patient to appropriate services. 3 Patients being treated by other medical specialties may have psychiatric co- morbidities. Effective management and liaison with mental health services requires a working knowledge of common conditions and their treatment. … Mental health services are organized in different ways from country to country. This chapter describes mainly the provision of services in the UK, but the prin­ciples apply generally. To understand the range of psychiatric services that are required for a specific community it is necessary to know: … 1 the frequency of mental disorders in the population; 2 the severity of these conditions and the impact they have upon a person’s ability to function; 3 how patients with these disorders come into contact with the health services; 4 what type of services people engage with and find effective. … The local prevalence of mental disorders will vary, but approximate estimates can be obtained from national surveys (Table 11.1). Approximately 20 per cent of adults and 10 per cent of children experi­ence a mental health problem in any given year. A more detailed discussion of the epidemiology of mental health as a whole can be found in Chapter 2, p. 5, and for specific disorders in their individual chapters. The basic principles of the provision of mental health services are the same as for any other health ser­vice. Services should be accessible, comprehensive, appropriate to the needs of the community, offer up- to- date treatments, effective, and economical. Patients should be offered a choice in the treatment they receive, although the caveat to this is when an individual is being treated under the Mental Health Act.
Problems of sexuality and gender
Authors: McKnight Rebecca , Price Jonathan , Geddes John
Published: November 2020

Sexual problems are encountered commonly in med­ical practice. It is an area in which accurate epidemio­logical data is hard to gather, but recent systematic reviews have stated that 40– 50 per cent of women and 10– 20 per cent of men report ‘a sexual difficulty’ within the past year. Gender- related issues are classified alongside sexual problems in the ICD and DSM clas­sification systems, and are presenting with increasing frequency to mental health services. A working know­ledge of how to manage these patients is therefore in­creasingly important for clinicians. It is helpful to think of sexual- and gender- related problems in three areas (Table 30.1): … 1 Disorders of sexual function. 2 Disorders of sexual preference. 3 Gender identity disorders. These are discussed in detail in Chapter 32, p. 480 as they tend to present in childhood or adolescence…. Some knowledge of normal sexual behaviour may help you to assess a patient’s presenting problem. Always remember there is enormous variation in the quantity and type of sexual behaviour considered ‘normal’ within a population, and a diverse range of views about the importance of sexual activity among individuals. Cultural norms and religious views are the greatest influences on an individual’s sexual behav­iour: it is helpful to get an idea of what is important to a patient when taking the history. The age of first intercourse dropped steadily in the second half of the last century but has since stabilized. This was probably due to the relaxation of social atti­tudes towards sexuality that occurred in the post- war decades. At present, about 20 per cent of females and about 30 per cent of males experience heterosexual intercourse before the age of 16. More than 80 per cent of both sexes have experienced sexual intercourse by the age of 20 years. Earlier age of first intercourse is associated with lower social class, lower levels of edu­cation, and lack of religious affiliation. The earlier first intercourse occurs, the less likely it is to be accom­panied by adequate contraceptive use and the more it is felt by the subject, in retrospect, to have been too early. Data from the UK and USA in 2015 reported that 94 per cent of adults report mostly or exclu­sively heterosexual (erotic thoughts and feelings are directed towards a person of the opposite sex) experience and attraction.
Society
Authors: Hanson Robin
Published: November 2020

How might em era cultures differ from prior era cultures? Today, we can identify many standard dimensions along which cultures around the world vary ( Hofstede et al. 2010 ; Gorodnichenko and Roland 2011 ; Minkov 2013 ). For some of these standard dimensions, the world has moved in a relatively consistent direction during the industrial era, and we have good reasons to expect this direction to be more productive in a modern economy. Because of this, we have good reasons to expect that a competitive em economy will continue to select for these cultural features. For example, we should expect more industriousness relative to indulgence, a work relative to a leisure orientation, time orientations that are long term relative to short term and that are tied to clocks instead of relationships, low instead of high context attitudes toward rules and communication, and a loose relative to tight attitude on interpreting social norms. For other standard cultural dimensions, productivity considerations don’t as clearly suggest which direction an em world favors. These dimensions include degree of avoidance of risk and uncertainty, tolerance of inequality, individual or group identity, cooperative or competitive emphasis, and high or low emotional expressiveness. Today, about 70% of the variation in values across nations is captured in just two key factors ( Inglehart and Welzel 2010 ). These two factors also capture much of the variation in individual values ( Schwartz et al. 2012 ). One factor varies primarily between rich and poor nations: increasing wealth seems to cause more individualism, universalism, egalitarianism, autonomy, and self-expression. These subfactors seem to be more a result than a cause of wealth. With increasing wealth, our values have moved away from conformity to traditional “conservative” farmer-like values, and toward more “liberal” forager-like values (Hanson 2010b; Hofstede et al. 2010). Poor nations tend more to value respecting parents and authority, believing in good and evil, and wanting to protect local jobs. Rich nations tend more to value trust and imagination, and acceptance of divorce and homosexuality.
Anglo-Saxon colonization
Authors: Rippon Stephen
Published: November 2020

Two strands of evidence can be used to map where Anglo-Saxon immigrants made their home in Britain: the distributions of Grubenhäuser and burials furnished with a distinctive suite of Germanic grave goods (which are referred to here as ‘Anglo-Saxon’ burials). Exactly who is buried within ‘Anglo-Saxon’ cemeteries is not altogether clear, as they may include both the immigrant population with their direct descendants and some native Britons (e.g. Arnold 1988; Hodges 1989; Härke 1990; 2002; Higham 1992; Scull 1995; Lucy 2000; Hamerow 2002; Hills 2003; 2007; 2009; 2011), and without major advances in scientific analysis we will never know whether some of those buried were ‘really just disguised Britons’ (Hills 1993, 15). Recent work on ancient DNA at Oakington, in Cambridgeshire, has established that both immigrants and natives were buried in this ‘Anglo-Saxon’ cemetery (Pitts 2016), but in order to determine how far Anglo-Saxon colonization extended across the landscape of eastern England we must rely upon more traditional archaeology. Of particular importance is the distribution of Grubenhäuser, as these distinctive structures had no precedent in late Roman Britain, suggesting that they were constructed and used by immigrant communities. Grubenhäuser are represented in the archaeological record as shallow(c.0.3–0.5m deep), sub-rectangular (c.3 by 4 m), steep-sided, and flat-bottomed pits above which was probably constructed a suspended wooden floor (e.g. Fig. 8.1; Tipper 2004). These distinctive structures have variously been called ‘huts’, ‘sunken huts’, ‘sunken featured buildings’, and ‘SFBs’, although all of these terms are problematic. The term ‘hut’ in particular led to an interpretation that they were crude hovels, whereas, now that examples have been reconstructed, we can see that they were substantial and impressive buildings (Fig. 8.2). The German term Grubenhäuser is used here specifically because it indicates that they were an alien formof architecture: although a number of Romano-British buildingswith sunken floors have been excavated, Tipper (2004, 7–11) has demonstrated that they represent an entirely different building tradition of cellars with revetted sides, entrance stairways, and floors associated with hearths and sunken storage jars (e.g. King Harry Lane in Verulamium: Stead and Rigby 1989).
Vocational Higher Education
Authors: Willetts David
Published: November 2020

A beautiful large stained-glass window dominates the end of the Great Hall of Birmingham University. My great-grandfather was one of the glaziers who made it—my family were Birmingham artisans, craftsmen, and engineers. His son, my grandfather, remembered being taken to the opening of Birmingham University in 1902—Joe Chamberlain, the founder of the university, believed that the workers who had built it should be invited, not just the academics. From a distance it looks like the stained-glass window in an ancient cathedral with figures of saints, but close up you see the radicalism of Joe Chamberlain’s vision. It is dedicated to the arts and sciences. Instead of saints and bishops the figures represent disciplines like geometry or music, but alongside them, equally prominent, are contemporary trades: there is an electroplater, a rather Michelangelesque miner, and a demure bookkeeper too. It is a celebration of the range of trades and professions of the early twentieth century, ‘as practised in the university and in the City’, said the local paper. England’s first university in one of its great bustling industrial cities was claiming a new role for the university based on its civic commitment. This great window embodies a very different idea of the university from the Oxbridge tradition. It is a vigorous statement in an argument that was raging within Government at the very time that Chamberlain was planning his new university. The question was whether public funds should go to help pay for higher education courses outside Oxbridge on a systematic basis and if so which courses at which institutions. (At this point what would become our Redbrick universities were typically university colleges teaching for the external degree of the University of London and funded locally, though with occasional public grants.) The question came to the Chancellor of the Exchequer in 1895, who replied: ‘As an old Oxford man myself I must confess to a feeling, which you may call a prejudice, that University education, in the full sense of the term, can hardly be obtained except at our old Universities.’ The Treasury consulted Oxford and Cambridge on what they should fund.
What: A Broader Education
Authors: Willetts David
Published: November 2020

The value of universities is not simply their contribution to human capital and economic growth, welcome though these are. Universities should enable a graduate to lead a flourishing, fulfilled life. That must mean the capacity to engage with the wide range of extraordinary intellectual and cultural achievements to which we are heirs and to which we should add for the next generation. It is the most important single responsibility of our universities and it is where the most significant reform is required. English education requires 16-year-olds to take life-changing decisions to specialize in just three subjects, and indeed allows students to drop a range of subjects at the age of 14. No other major Western country does this. It is the source of many of the other problems which we worry about. Fewer girls do STEM subjects after the age of 16 than in most other countries because in England they are presented with irreversible decisions to give them up when they are much too young. We suffer particularly acutely from C. P. Snow’s two cultures because our teenagers can join one of two apparently deeply hostile gangs—the humanities or the sciences, the Montagues and the Capulets of intellectual life—when most other countries avoid promoting such divisions. When employers complain about employability they often mean that young people have been force-fed for a narrow academic curriculum without a wider range of subjects and skills. Above all, as I look back on my education, my greatest regret—and that of many friends and contemporaries as we get older—is that we missed out on great scientific or cultural achievements of our age because of early decisions whose long-term significance we completely failed to recognize. I greatly enjoyed studying History, English, and German for my A levels but now I am shocked at the barbarism of a system which restricted my studies to those three subjects at the age of 16. This is the intellectual and cultural damage inflicted by our educational system when above all it should broaden our horizons and enlighten us. That this system is preserved on the claim it is necessary for high academic standards is even more scandalous.
Conclusion: The flow of life in Bronze Age Britain and Ireland
Authors: Brück Joanna
Published: November 2020

It is evident from the discussion in previous chapters that the projection into the past of dualistic conceptual frameworks that sharply distinguish subject from object, for example, or culture from nature, is problematic. Instead, the evidence suggests that the Bronze Age self was not constructed in opposition to an external ‘other’. Things outside of the body, such as significant objects, formed inalienable components of the person, while parts of the human body circulated in the same exchange networks as objects. The self was constituted relationally, so that the social and political position of particular people depended on their connections with others. Special places, too, were sedimented into the self, forming an inextricable part of personal, family, and community histories. The Bronze Age person can therefore be viewed as a composite—an assemblage of substances and elements flowing in and out of the wider social landscape. Indeed, it is interesting to note how ideas of substance may have changed from the Neolithic to the Bronze Age. Neolithic technologies—notably the grinding and polishing of stone axes—made evident the qualities of the material itself: polishing enhanced the colour, texture, and geological inclusions of such objects, rendering visible their very essence and origin (Whittle 1995; Cooney 2002). By contrast, bronze was made of a mixture of materials and its constituent elements were hidden. The production of composite objects also became more frequent during the Bronze Age (Jones 2002, 164–5), for example the miniature halberd pendant made of gold, amber, and copper alloy from an Early Bronze Age grave at Wilsford G8 in Wiltshire (Needham et al. 2015a, 230). Sometimes particular components of such items were concealed: the conical pendant or button from Upton Lovell G2e in Wiltshire comprised a shale core covered with sheet gold (Needham et al. 2015a, 222–5). This need not indicate an attempt to deceive others into believing this item was made of solid gold, however, for shale was itself used to make decorative items and was evidently a valued material during this period.
Introduction
Authors: Swift Ellen
Published: November 2020

The physical features of objects have a very direct relationship to social practices. Many of the everyday activities of human living require the use of tools and equipment, and this material culture has developed in close relationship with the human behaviour it makes possible. At the simplest level, artefact features can provide information about what objects were used for and what activities were carried out in the past. Yet they can also tell us much more: about the perceived agency of objects, about past users and their social experience, about cultural change and development in social practice, and about the persistence of tradition and social convention. In this book, I draw on a range of perspectives from design and craft theory. These perspectives were mostly developed in the context of studies of modern objects or those of the more recent historical past. They relate to the practical uses of artefacts, for instance as tools and equipment. These approaches encourage us to re-examine a functional approach to archaeological artefacts. They can be useful in prompting us to ask new questions, and to engage with previously neglected categories of material. I will explore design theory in relation to Roman material culture, in particular, investigating the following areas: (1) The relationship between the form of objects and their actual use/s. (2) How the material properties of objects relate to social experience, behaviour, and cultural traditions. (3) Assumptions about intended users evident through object design. (4) How aspects of production affect human relationships with objects. I hope to both reveal important new aspects of Roman social practice, and help us to better understand the relationships between people, objects, and behaviour that existed in, and shaped, Roman and provincial Roman society. The social function of artefacts as possessions and commodities has been extensively studied in both archaeology and anthropology, drawing on artefact appearance and decorative style and its significance. A definitive volume on material culture summarizes theoretical approaches to artefacts, including object biography, post-colonial theory, globalization, and consumption theory. Such approaches have been influential in Roman archaeology.