Haitian poetry experienced a shift, beginning as early as the 1870s, away from nationally inspired themes toward a greater insistence on poetic form and a penchant for contemplative verse. Poets often pondered abstract notions like the passage of time or the mysteries of nature. Other times they chose to write from the anguish of personal experience, mourning the loss of love to death or betrayal. Their melancholic reflections were not necessarily devoid of politics. Poets Virginie Sampeur, Massillon Coicou, and Etzer Vilaire composed their own eclectic poetry years before contributing to the famous journal La Ronde. Theirs is a poetics of ‘disenchantment’, a term that permeates the pages of the journal and characterizes their reactions to Haiti’s distressing domestic and international political situation. I offer an assessment of these three key poets and of the journal, affirming and going beyond the idea of the ‘understated political aspect’ of the movement. I demonstrate that the politics occasioning and emanating from this poetry embody distinctly Haitian calls for literary perseverance, a prescient battle for national preservation to which La Ronde is dedicated.

This chapter discusses how British modernists engaged with Europe. It takes account of the wider landscape of modernists active on British soil: the impact of art circulation (including key moments like the vogue for Ivan Meštrović, British performances of the Ballets Russes, and F. T. Marinetti’s visit to England), continental European travel and residence, translation, the rise of disciplines like anthropology, attitudes like ‘Byzantinism’ and ‘primitivism’, and the redrafting of European nation-state boundaries. For key figures such as W. B. Yeats, Wyndham Lewis, and Virginia Woolf, one of the driving forces of British modernism was the question of what Europe is and what it might become if its geographical, cultural, and social boundaries were redefined. British modernists’ interest in Europe was intimately connected to their obsession with borders and boundaries – of spaces, political possibilities, customs, conditions, and humans. Reimagining others and themselves as insiders, outsiders, or in-outsiders, the writers and artists of the period adopted a range of identities (from regional identities to British to European and/or cosmopolitan) and developed corresponding artistic practices.

In the eyes of other nations, Britain was a colonial, maritime, and mercantile country, whose still strong interests in Europe were expressed largely culturally. This perception made the Enlightenment a broadly recognizable movement, carried on over national boundaries and concerned with ideas such as ‘the modern’, of religious toleration, of progress, of the ‘science of man’ so strongly supported by David Hume, and of human (or rather, white and masculine) dignity. It self-consciously located itself geographically in Europe and chronologically in ‘the modern age’, which, after much debate in the early part of the century, it saw as superior to that of the Greeks and Romans, in spite of their immense cultural legacy, which was shared by all Europeans. Yet in the end, this chapter argues, in spite of a shared ancient legacy, Britain remained pulled in two directions, the colonial and imperial on the one hand, and the European on the other.

The Nigerian-born composer Akin Euba (1935–2020) saw it as his life’s mission to create an ‘African art music’: ‘a form of music [that is] universal to all Africa’. As the chapter will outline, his career took him from Lagos to Bayreuth (Germany) and, eventually, Pittsburgh (USA), in the course of which he came up with the notions of ‘African pianism’, ‘creative ethnomusicology’ and, finally, ‘intercultural composition’, of which he was an acknowledged pioneer. Rather than seeing intercultural composition as a contradiction of African art music, I argue that Euba’s music embodies the concept of cosmopolitanism as a series of concentric circles as proposed by the Stoics, whereby the local (Yoruba) is contained in a wider (pan-African) sphere, which is in turn encapsulated in the universal. Compositionally, this vision is realised through the combination of elements from Yoruba music, such as timelines, other African influences from the likes of xylophone and mbira music and Western modernism, exemplified by serialism. As my analyses show, these elements are integrated to such an extent as to become inextricable.

This is a chapter about the desire to escape, to flee, to desert the Argentineity of Argentine literature; about a force bent on undermining or abandoning Spanish, on imagining literary projects placed beyond, underneath, or against the institutionalized understanding of a national tradition based on long-held beliefs in sovereign forms of language, territoriality, and identity. It focuses on a discursive force lurking behind a list of proper names – J.Rodolfo Wilcock, Copi, Sylvia Molloy, Edgardo Cozarinsky, María Negroni – rendered visible by a shared will to displace the boundaries of the Argentine tradition as a cultural site that lends itself to processes of subjectivation and misidentification. The textual moments and stances analyzed inscribe displaced writerly practices (always marked by ambivalences and unresolved tensions) in a designated, reimagined foreign space, at once strange and familiar – be that a specific cultural and linguistic location in the Global North (Rome, Paris, New York) or an indeterminate site marked by indexical signs of elsewhereness.

This chapter discusses the question of cosmopolitanism and its role in the formation of the poetry of Modernismo, with a focus on the work of three major writers: Manuel Gutiérrez Nájera, Amado Nervo, and José Juan Tablada. Using the notion of “strategic Occidentalism” – the deliberate and critical engagements of writers with the Western tradition – the chapter discusses the ways in which poets in the Modernismo tradition used specific literary genealogies to transition Mexican poetry into the twentieth century. The chapter also comments on the various available editions of the work of these poets.

The complex relationship between Wagner and Liszt has been much caricatured. Liszt is usually perceived as long-suffering, patient, and generous in his support, while Wagner appears self-serving and ruthless. This chapter unravels how their relationship was shaped by contemporary economic, political, and, artistic forces. In doing so, it observes the contrasting ways Liszt and Wagner attempted to reconcile revolutionary republican sympathies with their desire for royal patronage. It examines the advice and practical support Liszt provided Wagner through his position as Kapellmeister at the Weimar Court Theatre, Liszt’s ambitions to position his relationship with Wagner as equivalent to Goethe and Schiller within a new artistic ‘golden age’ in Weimar, and their differing responses to contemporary aesthetic debates. It highlights similarities and differences in their ideas about the future of music, the relationship between music and drama and its implications for musical form, and their compositional approaches.

In Chapter 3, I confront views offered by anti-cosmopolitan theorists. According to the first anti-cosmopolitan view, our obligations to guarantee the substance of the right to subsistence is owed primarily to our compatriots. These obligations outweigh our obligations to those beyond our borders. According to the second anti-cosmopolitan view, we don’t have any obligations beyond our own borders. On these views, our obligations to others are delimited by the particularities of our reciprocal relationship with our compatriots. In response, I draw from John Rawls to articulate an institutional conception of rights. On such a conception, our obligations toward others arise in particular contexts where we interact with and coerce one another vis-à-vis our participation in an institutional scheme. Because we are implicated in trans- and supranational economic, political, and social institutions, we interact institutionally with severely poor people. Employing such an argument serves as a defense against anti-cosmopolitan theorists.

This chapter introduces the aims and scope of this handbook. In this handbook, we seek to showcase the diverse perspectives offered by contributors from all over the world concerning topics of comparative law. We begin by outlining the proposition that one’s culture and identity shape what we do and how we think, but we also suggest that understanding law in a global context requires us to transcend a radical scepticism about the comparative law enterprise and also avoid exclusionary ‘identity politics’. We proceed by explaining the structure of the handbook and summarising the key contents of each chapter in the handbook.

In parallel with the establishment of English as an academic subject, Pater’s lifetime coincided with the institutionalisation of Modern Languages as an independent field of study within British universities. Pater’s contribution to the debate over a School of English at Oxford must therefore be understood in relation to his involvement with the Oxford School of Modern Languages and with the cultural and social space of the Taylorian Institution. In 1890, Pater was invited to contribute to the prestigious Taylor Lectures, which were designed to promote the study of modern European languages and literatures. The resulting lecture and essay, ‘Prosper Mérimée’, presents the French writer as a cosmopolitan and cultural mediator. After Pater’s death, the first series of Taylor lectures was collected in a volume entitled Studies in European Literature (1900). Reading the essay on Mérimée in the context of that volume enables us to see Pater as an advocate of a comparative approach to literature and as rejecting the nationalist mentality in which the rise of English in universities found itself implicated.

Marx’s thought on nationhood emerged from the cosmopolitan legacy of the “radical Enlightenment.” It took shape in the crucible of European nationalisms, the persistence of dynastic multinational empires, and the appearance of socialism as a new political actor.1 In 1848, the national question was deeply intermingled with the question of class. As a minority current of socialism, at least until the end of the nineteenth century, Marxism promoted a new form of political internationalism of which the most significant expression was the foundation of the International Workingmen’s Association in 1864. A constitutive tension quickly appeared between this cosmopolitan aspiration – well synthesized by The Communist Manifesto’s sentence: “the workers have no country”2 – and the growing tendency of the nascent socialist movements to inscribe themselves into national patterns made of inherited cultures, languages, traditions, and social practices.

This chapter examines the relationship between nationalism, ethnic cleansing, and genocide from the perspective of Eastern Galicia, a multiethnic and multireligious region populated for 400 years by Poles, Ruthenians, and Jews, which was transformed by the advent of nationalism from a society of never-harmonious but rarely violent interethnic coexistence into one of extreme violence. Special attention is given to the town and district of Buczacz as representative of what is now known as western Ukraine. In writing this chapter, I have drawn on the research conducted for my recent study, Anatomy of a Genocide: The Life and Death of a Town Called Buczacz.1 But while the book provides a heavily documented narrative of events in this locality, it largely refrains from explicitly discussing the theoretical and methodological concepts that undergird it.