Almost on the eve of the Iranian revolution, the shah's regime adopted a policy of daylight-saving time to cope with a chronic power shortage in Tehran, a densely populated city of more than four million people. The clock was moved ahead by an hour in the spring and set back again in the fall. Few decisions of the old government evoked as much public criticism and outcry as this one. Thousands of complaints were registered against the plan. The Department of Energy was swamped by daily protest letters and phone calls. Iran's daily newspapers printed hundreds of letters and editorials decrying the idea as absurd and futile. Comedians capitalized on the arbitrary nature of the official time as they sought to mobilize public ridicule of the government. Many people rejected the plan outright and adhered to the old time. Others kept both times. When you asked someone for the time of the day, the immediate response was “which time do you mean, the old time or the new time?” For some people, the rejection of daylight-saving time became a symbol of opposition to the shah's regime—it was at least justified as such.

I. Some recent essays on the relationship between history on the one hand and anthropology and/or sociology on the other concentrate on the differences in the material with which the typical practitioner deals and the types of issues likely to be addressed (Thompson 1972, 1976, 1977; Davis 1981). They have tended to compare the perspectives that anthropologists1 and historians bring into their work. And both E. P. Thompson and Natalie Z. Davis advocate increasing mutual borrowing from each discipline: they wish the one discipline to deepen its sensitivity and to avoid the usual pitfalls by drawing on the strengths of the other. Thus, by way of illustration, one finds Thompson arguing that historians tend to be more attentive to the paradoxes and ambivalences of actual men, and that they are attuned to the discipline of context because of this attentiveness to heterogeneity, a strength which sociologists—who, he says, tend to overgeneralise and to swallow heterogeneity through the manufacture of neat typologies—would be well advised to draw upon (1976:387,394).

In the past few decades, there has been an explosion of literature concerning the changes taking place in American art music. In many cases, this literature is the work of the very people who are making those changes, the composers of new music. Much of their commentary is written in a manifesto style reminiscent of avant-garde movements of the early twentieth century. The dominant topic concerns the changes composers feel are needed to revolutionize American music.

Studies of local markets have come to attract much interest of late in the anthropological and geographical literature. However, while a fair amount of work has been done on rural and periodic markets in the Middle East and some on North Africa, no serious research has been done in Egypt. Yet Egyptian weekly markets have been around for a very long time, and they continue to play an important role in the local and national economy today, despite extensive state control. For this reason they deserve more serious study and attention than they have so far been given.

Case studies in local economic history and organization conventionally employ either of two rhetorical strategies. In the first, a particular world view, theoretical orientation, or set of basic categories is assumed and forms the basis for organizing a description of a particular case; in the second, the facts or data are marshaled in an attempt to validate, authenticate, or test an explicitly stated theoretical position. Of course, these are ideal types, and many studies quite appropriately combine both. Progress is conceived as an outcome over time in which both kinds of study contribute to ever more elegant, encompassing, and parsimonious orderings of data. The nature of the relationship between theory, assumptions, world view, and so forth on the one hand, and data, subject, or facts on the other, transcends otherwise widely divergent arguments-for example, “Marxist,” “dependency,” “neoclassical,” and (more subtly) “substantivist.” In short, a common value, broadly “positivist,” informs most Western sociaI science discourse.