This chapter delves into the politics of factionalism in Gaza, its causes, development, the impact of external factors, and its effects. It surveys the main bones of contention within the Gazan elite, presents portraits of elite families and political personalities, and discusses the relationships between the Gazan elite and outside forces. It focuses on the rise of the Shawwa family and its allies the Busaysus, erstwhile supporters of the Husaynis, who at some point in the mid-1890s turned against them for unknown reasons and eventually were able to oust them from control over the city’s politics in 1898, when the leadership of the Husayni family was exiled by the Ottoman government to Ankara. The rise of the Shawwa–Busaysu coalition, whose source of power was the newly created municipality, was accompanied by a spatial divide of the city between the neighborhood of Daraj where most of the elite families, including the Husaynis, resided, and the relatively poor neighborhood of Shajaʿiyya, the stronghold of the opposition. This led to what here is termed “spatialized factionalism,” a new concept that is discussed at length. Gaza’s factionalism is then analyzed in comparison to late Ottoman cities in Bilad al-Sham.

Chapter 5 explores the use of political correspondence (mursalāt), in the form of petitions and firmans, during the early Qajar period. Like marriage, political correspondence had a long history in Iran, but a manuscript collection of correspondence between Qajar rulers and Kangarlu tribal khans in the Caucasus helps us see how and why the use of correspondence changed during the early nineteenth century. The manuscript collection from the Majlis Library contains correspondence dating to the eighteenth century and up to 1828, with the numbers of petitions and firmans increasing dramatically during the Russo-Persian Wars (1804–13 and 1826–28). The collection suggests that correspondence was critical to Qajar efforts to protect the ‘Guarded Domains of Iran,’ that Qajar rulers in Tehran and Tabriz were well-informed of events on the war’s front, and that local circumstances and conditions in the Caucasus influenced political decisions.

Over nearly three decades of British rule, mental health illness sparked complex, consequential interactions in Palestine: between colonial state and society, Arabs and Jews, and Palestine and the wider region. The introduction outlines Mandatory Madness’s focus on the social and cultural history of colonial psychiatry in mandate Palestine and argues for its significance across three distinct fields: as offering a novel account of the mandate period, which stresses entanglement rather than assuming division; as shifting the focus in histories of psychiatry away from institutions and experts and towards encounters; and as challenging methodological nationalism by revealing regional and global forms of interconnection. The introduction also reflects on the possibilities and perils of working with the archives of colonial psychiatry in mandate Palestine and provides an overview of the political history of the period to orient readers across the rest of the book.

This chapter focuses on the hundreds of the so-called criminal lunatics who appeared to slip between the gaps in psychiatric provision over the 1940s and ended up in the lunatic sections of the mandate’s prisons. Their abandonment, this chapter argues, was the product of often- fraught negotiations across state and society: mandate officials in particular worried that the families of the mentally ill were staging minor criminal offences in order to have their relatives bypass long waiting lists and access institutional provision. Through a careful reading of case files from the rich archive of the criminal lunatic section at Acre, this chapter delves into the complex dynamics that surrounded these individuals’ routes into – as well as out of – this institutional site. These stories reveal that neither insanity nor criminality was a stable category in mandate Palestine. But the case files, particularly the ‘delusions’ they record, also hold out the possibility of recovering the experiences and perspectives of those deemed criminally insane, and indeed their capacity to exercise a degree of agency over their lives.

This chapter brings to the fore a key theme across the second part of Mandatory Madness: the considerable agency exercised by families over the management of their mentally ill relatives. This chapter focuses in particular on the petitions that flooded the mandate government from the 1930s onwards, seeking the admission of relatives to the government’s mental health institutions. These petitions are read both for what they reveal about the often-complex therapeutic strategies pursued by families, and as carefully crafted arguments about mental health illness and the state’s obligations to its subjects. Petitions make clear that Palestinian Arab families in particular were much more actively engaged with questions of psychiatric care than has been often represented, incorporating the mandate’s processes, institutions, and indeed anxieties into their strategies for managing the mentally ill. Petitions reframe our understanding of the interactions between state and society in mandate Palestine, by revealing how these played out in the intimate stretches of people’s lives.

Chapter 6 reconstructs the process of petitioning to the king, once a dispute had set in and the decision to litigate before the highest authorities had been taken. Firstly, the chapter establishes the extent of knowledge and understanding about royal justice among Tudor subjects. Returning to some of the themes set out in Chapter 1, it explores the wider culture of complaint with which all prospective supplicants were familiar, provides evidence for growing awareness of the format required for petitions to the king, and surveys the range of professional legal advice available to produce these documents. The contents of the petitions that litigants and their counsel put together is further explored, with some consideration of the potential for the plaintiff’s ‘voice’ to break through the formula. Finally, the chapter sets out the practical steps required to reach the royal household and to seek out the king himself. Throughout this analysis, bills of costs submitted by Requests’ litigants facilitate further scrutiny of its accessibility, and particularly whether its shift from itinerancy to settlement at Westminster negatively affected its poorest suitors.

Chapter 5 turns from the demography of the Court of Requests to the issues that its plaintiffs presented. It begins with a breakdown of the subject matter of petitions, including violent assaults, debt and goods disputes, and quarrels over the possession of land. Thereafter, the chapter abandons firm legal categorisations used in other single-court studies, observing that supplicants to the king more often framed their cases in terms of emotions, relationships, and social values – of personal status and a wider social order that they perceived to be at risk. Finally, the chapter examines claims made by Requests’ petitioners about their inability to find justice elsewhere, in other parts of the legal system. This serves to trace the various possible steps between the onset of a localised feud and the pursuit of litigation before the king, and therefore to better contextualise the Court of Requests and the conciliar justice network. It also demonstrates how subjects and supplicants perceived this new jurisdiction: not as a forum for trying particular areas of case law but as a mechanism for remedying tangled feuds that could not be so simply defined nor easily remedied elsewhere.

This chapter looks at the impact of the American Revolution and its war on both Britain and Ireland. Its central concern is to explore whether Britain and Ireland can be incorporated in the Atlantic Revolution thesis, first advanced by Robert Palmer, which suggests the migration of revolutionary impulses eastwards. The argument developed here lays less emphasis on the inspiration provided by the democratic ideas associated with the American Revolution than on the importance of British military setbacks and ultimate defeat in the War of American Independence. It also highlights domestic and wider imperial influences on reform within Britain and Ireland, which also seem to have played a more significant role than the democratic tendencies of the American Revolution. By no means all the different reform programs and proposals in Britain and Ireland envisaged movement in a democratic direction. Indeed, the chapter makes the case for our considering most of the calls for reform in this period as attempts to turn the clock back, and recover lost or declining safeguards against misrule, or remedy long-standing grievances, rather than as forward-looking attempts to embrace democracy.

Shakespeare and George Peele’s Titus Andronicus (1591–94) stages both the proliferating texts and the religious violence of the early 1590s. These years saw a spate of sectarian libels from persecuted Puritans and Catholics alike. In Titus, the marginalized Andronici likewise launch ephemeral scraps of writing into the sky, texts that join appeals for redress with violent threats. These libels bear an especially close resemblance to those scattered in the streets by the Puritan extremist William Hacket and his accomplices in 1591. But the echoes are also cross-confessional, indicating a broader interest in the “manner” of religiopolitical speech. The play folds its topical allegory into a Tacitean-humanist history of political communication: the rise of the emperor, Saturninus, brings about the end of public oratory. Their speech silenced, the Andronici unleash a flurry of texts that takes the Tacitean story of rhetorical decline into its early modern future. By yoking libels not just to the pursuit of justice but also to factionalism and violence, Titus takes a hard look at the viral and virulent media of the late Elizabethan public sphere.

This chapter explores the changing nature of property rights over more than five decades in China through a case study of an individual family. Tracing the Zhu family’s demand for justice in the post-Mao era for the six houses it had owned and lost – the first five to Mao’s 1950s socialist reforms and the last one to post-Mao urbanization – the chapter notes how the post-Mao transition initially brought a small measure of justice when the family was allowed to reclaim their house and offered a token payment for their prior losses. This was undone in the rapid urbanization that led to the eviction of the family and the destruction of their home in 2005 to make way for a twenty-four-storey grand hotel that now stands in its place. The case demonstrates how the concept of transitional justice and limited past success in regaining property continue to motivate the family to engage in an ongoing struggle for justice.

This chapter reflects upon the role of petitions in the history of transnational anticolonialism at the United Nations. Even though the UN circumscribed the right to petition in 1948 by excluding it from the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, anticolonial nationalists used petitions to oppose the return of colonial rule, condemn human rights abuses, and demand self-determination. The independence movement in Somaliland and the other former Italian colonies in Africa sent petitions to the Trusteeship Council, which in turn were supported by anticolonial UN delegations from the global South. Although Italy returned as the administering authority when the Trust Territory of Somaliland was formed, this collective effort led to the defeat of the Bevin–Sforza Plan and contributed to increasing international support for decolonization.

The thirteenth-century kingdom of England was a political, jurisdictional and administrative unit consisting of thirty-nine contiguous counties which the Norman and Angevin kings of England had in large part inherited from their Anglo-Saxon predecessors – although two of those counties (Cheshire and Durham) had by the thirteenth century come to enjoy an enhanced degree of autonomy, which for many, if not all, purposes placed them outside direct royal control. The kings of England also possessed a limited degree of control over the marcher lordships of Wales which had been conquered from native Welsh rulers by ‘English’ lords and constituted a barrier between England and the kingdoms of Wales. The rest of Wales remained under the control of native Welsh rulers until Edward I in successive campaigns in the 1270s and 1280s destroyed the last remaining native princes and their independence. He did not annex the conquered Welsh lands to the kingdom of England or dispossess all the conquered Welsh, but he established a separate principality of Wales in the north and west of Wales under English control and in 1301 the king’s eldest son became ‘prince’ of Wales. Edward also imposed a version of English law and of the English local administrative system on this area through the Statute of Wales of 1284.1

Focusing on firm-level behavior in the US pharmaceutical and agrochemical industries, Chapter 4 provides evidence that companies do indeed seek stricter standards on their own, out-of-patent products in order to boost sales of newer, patented substitutes, even providing negative information about their own products in pursuit of this goal. In order to show this, the chapter leverages petitions submitted by pharmaceutical and agrochemical companies to the US FDA and EPA, respectively, requesting that the agencies place stricter standards or all out bans on products that these companies themselves developed. In the case of the pharmaceutical petitions, the chapter provides evidence that all but one of the requests for a product ban has targeted a drug that is about to lose or has already lost patent protection and for which the company had a more recently patented substitute. This suggests that such requests are not publicly minded attempts to ensure dangerous products remain off the market but, instead, are strategic gambits to boost profits of exclusively produced alternatives. In addition, the chapter provides a statistical analysis of petitions submitted by agrochemical companies and farm groups to show that, whereas farmers are no more likely to seek stricter standards on out-of-patent pesticides, agrochemical companies systematically request stricter standards on these products while requesting more lenient standards on products still enjoying patent protection.

This chapter provides the first overview of the gobierno petition-writing process. It focuses on how subjects would create and structure these documents, devoting particular attention to the contributions of many intermediary figures: formal and informal assistants, translators, and procurators, as well as notaries and others. It frames petitioning as a paper ritual emulating the vassal–ruler encounter in which the subject’s voluntad flows to the heart and mind of the monarch, and asks how these lifeless papers could come – through a scaffolded series of legal fictions – to contain this volition. Specifically, vassals might reach to the fictions of notarial truth and signatures to seal this will to manuscripts. The result was that a wide range of subjects, even illiterate ones, might partake in the petition-and-response system. Moreover, the social backgrounds of these intermediaries could be quite diverse, meaning that before these texts even reached the court this dialogue was already touched by many actants.

The extent to which a country succeeds in enforcing its competition legislation is dependent as much on the interaction between the adopted competition system and the pre-existing legal system of the country as it is on the performance of the competition authority established by the adopted legislation. This chapter examines the extent and nature of interactions between the adopted competition enforcement systems and pre-existing legal systems in India and Pakistan by evaluating the petitions filed from orders of the CCI and CCP before the general courts in their countries. The chapter demonstrates that the nature and quality of these interactions has a discernible impact on competition enforcement in these countries. It argues that the interactions between the Indian and Pakistani competition legislations and the pre-existing legal systems in India and Pakistan are largely shaped in part by the strategies, mechanisms, and institutions through which the countries had initially adopted their respective competition legislation and the compatibility and legitimacy generated in the process. It further argues that the nature of these interactions determines the extent of competition enforcement in the country and the pace at which the adopted legislation integrates with the country’s pre-existing legal system.

The conclusion summarises the key findings of the book. Not only were petitions and petitioning a central, and hitherto, missing component of our understanding of UK political culture, but these practices contributed to the transformation of political culture. The remainder of the conclusion considers how a study of petitionary culture reconnects and pushes forward the currently fragmented field of nineteenth-century political history, before considering three major implications of the book for the wider historiography. First, it demonstrates that UK political culture was even more inclusive than previously thought, thereby qualifying the emphasis on the exclusivity of the political nation. Second, it charts how the authority and legitimacy of the Commons in particular, and Parliament more generally, was renewed by petitions, although it could also, on occasion, be challenged by petitioners. Third, it shows how the UK state was transformed by the continuous interaction with petitioners, and restores the place of the people within accounts of the relationship between state and subjects. Ultimately, petitions and petitioning were part of a broader social phenomenon that decisively reshaped the modern political culture of the UK.

Scripting their own lines, African Americans in Britain’s North American colonies early joined in the fresh discourse touting “the rights of man” that propelled the US era of independence. They heard from the works of Locke, Montesquieu, Rousseau, and others attacks on authority derived from anything other than personal consent, and they turned that to attacks against their enslavement and subordination. From religious rhetoric emphasizing slaveholders’ Christian hypocrisy, they moved more and more to political arguments against their condition, deploying rhetoric of individual rights as evidenced in governmental petitions and other writings particularly from the 1770s through the 1790s. Shifting from merely escaping slavery, African Americans moved to embrace equal protections and rights regardless of race. They escalated from appeals to white conscience to appeals to Black consciousness. Pressing for a new day, African American writers advanced not only Christian brotherhood but also a brotherhood of shared African ancestry engaged in cooperative action for mutual recognition, relief, benefit, and advancement to escape exclusion from the promise of American life.