We begin this chapter by outlining what constitutes a humiliating foreign policy. We then linger on a key feature in the phenomenology of political humiliation, namely the sense of being replaced. This sense manifests in a perception of being removed from importance and consequence – usually by someone not viewed as a worthy competitor. After describing the phenomenology of replacement, we point out that it is particularly important to understand this sentiment because it straddles personal and political psychology, and because a focus on the sense of replacement helps us distinguish normative and descriptive aspects of political humiliation. After discussing the phenomenology of replacement, we highlight the difference between democratic and autocratic rulers in their susceptibility to humiliation. We conclude the chapter with a discussion of the dual role of humiliation as both driver and method of war.

Neuroimaging plays an important role in workup of pregnant patients with seizures. Seizures in pregnant and postpartum women may be due to pre-existing epilepsy, the initial manifestation of a primary central nervous system–related problem, or a neurologic problem unique to pregnancy and the postpartum period. Multidisciplinary decision making is required when selecting the most suitable neuroimaging technique and the specific protocol. The different clinical scenarios in a pregnant patient with seizures are reviewed and suitable MR protocols are discussed for each clinical context. Safety considerations for CT and MR as well as iodinated and gadolinium-based contrasts are summarized, together with the most recent recommendations.

HB2281 (2010) was a state law meant to eliminate the TUSD MAS program. This is not conjecture but rather a direct statement from the law’s chief architect, former state superintendent of public instruction Tom Horne. This brief chapter provides a broad overview of the history and key figures in this protracted, painful, community-oriented drama of resistance, while also considering the difficulties of telling this story honestly. It draws a direct line between the current banning of Critical Race Theory nationally and this piece of Arizona legislation.

The German Empire was born in the aftermath of one war and died at the conclusion of another. Even within its own chronological confines of 1871 and 1918, Imperial Germany’s history poses narrative challenges. The principal issue has to do with the second of these wars, which brought the German Empire to an end. This conflict weighed more heavily than the short war that began the story in 1870. The earlier war made possible the unification of the nation-state and served as a symbol of its military splendor, but otherwise, at least to judge from economic historians, it had a limited or ambivalent material impact on what followed. The Great War of 1914–18, by contrast, gave rise to the term “total war.” It left no phase of life in the German Empire unaffected. It let loose pressures so comprehensive that they challenged even the narrative coherence of German history during the imperial era itself.

At the United Nations Conference on Climate Change at Copenhagen in 2009 (COP 15), Narsamma Masanagari, Manjula Tammali, and Sammamma Begari – Dalit women from Medak district of Andhra Pradesh – burnt their accreditation badges in protest against the lack of recognition of caste and Dalits in climate discussions. Coming from Medak district, where extreme heat and erratic rainfall impacts the everyday village life, Sammamma, a small farmer of Bidakanne village, explained: ‘Climate change does make it more difficult. If there is drought or unseasonal rainfall, the first thing that suffers is crop cultivation. If there are no crops, it is difficult for us.’ Narsamma, farmer and activist of Pastapur village, claimed that ‘upper-caste farmers use machines to plough their land, heightening the climate crisis with fertilizer and other things. Our impact on the climate is much smaller. Larger farmers grow money, we grow food’. Standing outside the Conference Centre, Dalit women demanded ‘to bring in the voices of the small and the excluded. If you really want to understand climate change, then come and talk to people like us’. During COP, they also spoke about untouchability and occupational hierarchy still being practised in the villages, and how a group, Deccan Development Society, was trying to organize Dalit women farmers’ collectives by pooling financial and human resources, sowing local rice varieties and diversifying crops in small farms, to mitigate the impact of volatile weather and increasing water scarcity. On another occasion, ‘Dalits Dignity March’ in Delhi, organized every year on 5 December by the National Confederation of Dalit Organisations (NACDOR), a network of grassroot Dalit groups, displayed prominently the banner of ‘Dalit Climate Justice’. Ashok Bharti, the chairman of the organization, submitted a memorandum to the prime minister, asking the Indian government not to compromise the interests of Dalits in the country's commitment to cut carbon emissions, and suggested fair share and special care for the community in climate change mitigation policies and budget allocation. Of late, a few Dalit and anti-caste writers have begun articulating their views on climate change. They have critiqued the trend to overlook the ‘correlation between climate change and social exclusion’, the ‘hidden casteism of climate change reporting’, and have explored ‘a broader framework to situate caste in the climate change/climate justice discourse’.

Chapter 6 traces the last years of Britain’s communal currency. From the chapter’s examination of the resumption debate, it emerges that the decision on resumption stemmed from loss of faith in inconvertible currency and the fractured state of British society, rather than from unanimous support for the theory or policy of the gold standard. This chapter reveals that the supporters of resumption were a mixed group of people, including those with metallist and non-metallist views alike. The anti-resumption campaign lacked coherence, but ultimately it was the fractured state of British society that made inconvertible currency unsustainable: Britain’s note users no longer saw themselves as a single community of money users but as competing groups with different economic interests. The rest of the chapter illustrates the process by which the remnants of communal currency were gradually chipped away in the following twelve years, which were punctuated by major events such as the financial crisis of 1825 and the political run on the Bank of England in 1832. This chapter closes in 1833, when the fate of currency voluntarism was finally sealed as the Bank note became legal tender.

Middle class

The day Sheela brought her new phone into work, she clutched her bag extra tight on the Gramin Seva, a shared minivan that she took for her daily commute (Figure 4.1). In the café, Sheela had tucked the phone into her trousers pocket. She took it out carefully and showed me, putting it on the café counter and pressing the home button so the screen would light up. Both of us admired the display – the colours were bright and the images sharply defined. She swiped it open and demonstrated the quality of the camera lens too – with inbuilt ‘beauty’ filters, I could tell and Sheela was convinced, this was going to be a great ‘selfie’ camera. She wiped the screen gently with a paper tissue to rub out the finger marks it had incurred in the course of showing it to me and slipped it right back into her pocket. This was by no means the first smartphone that Sheela had used, but it was the first smartphone that she had bought with her own salary. It was also the only thing she had ever purchased just for herself with her salary.

Following her father's unemployment, Sheela had, along with her mother, taken on the responsibility of a ‘breadwinner’. She handed over all of her salary (at the time INR 7,000 per month) to her mother for household expenses, supplementing the income her mother earned as a domestic worker. If and when there was money left, Sheela got some ‘pocket money’ from her mother. It was this money that she had saved and bought herself a phone with. Although she had seemingly become part of Digital India’s2 growing population of smartphone users, the smartphone had not come easily to Sheela:

TO ‘BREAK THROUGH THE BOTTLENECKS …’

Despite its lack of electoral imprimatur, there were no troubles for the Nehru government after it decided to remain in the remodelled British commonwealth in April 1949. On the day that the constituent assembly ratified this decision, the only dissenting voices were those of the Khilafatist Hasrat Mohani, the UP socialist Shibbanlal Saxena and the Bombay liberal K. T. Shah. Chapter 2 chronicles the threefold challenges of 1949, refugees–food–economy and the bottlenecks therein, and then interrogates the attempted breakthroughs by a still-contingent state, whose presentation of the new constitution ushered another age of establishment. It demonstrates the tumult before any transformation within the administrative apparatus of a neither too strong nor yet fully centralised state. With the communists ‘isolated’, some peasant proprietorship could be attempted, along with control of key industries before the election, but it was the food situation that proved the biggest headache, and the provinces needed to initiate on the troika of intensive cultivation– procurement–rapid yields.

On the other hand, some initiatives were unwelcome. When Indian army's chief General K. M. Cariappa made a press statement congratulating the prime minister for the Commonwealth conference and the country's ‘all-round progress’, he was told to not get ‘mixed up … with politics.…’ Inside a week, Lt General Nathu Singh made comments on law and order in Lucknow, as well as on ‘step-motherly army pay scales.…’ In this context, it was not surprising that in Hyderabad, where communism, food production and land reform came together, the Ministry of States outlined a fantastic proposal of the abolition of jagirdari over 60 years. Going this slow might lead to a ‘rapid shift-over to Communism’.

Across the southern peninsula, there was also a linguistic tussle simmering, and educationist Ali Yavar Jung suggested that like Banaras and Aligarh, central centres like Andhra university (Telugu), Madras (Tamil), Mysore (Kannada) and Osmania (Urdu) could be created to spread the ‘national language’. Another academic, John Boyd Orr, the Scottish polymath who would win the Nobel Peace Prize later in the year, came visiting in April 1949 and left India having grasped the prime difficulty of decision-making in New Delhi and actioning them across the country.

This chapter reviews research on a contemporary form of prejudice – aversive racism – and considers the important role of implicit bias in the subtle expressions of discrimination associated with aversive racism. Aversive racism characterizes the racial attitudes of a substantial portion of well-intentioned people who genuinely endorse egalitarian values and believe that they are not prejudiced but at the same time possess automatically activated, often nonconscious, negative feelings and beliefs about members of another group. Our focus in this chapter is on the bias of White Americans toward Black Americans, but we also discuss relevant findings in other intergroup contexts. We emphasize the importance of considering, jointly, both explicit and implicit biases for understanding subtle, and potentially unintentional, expressions of discrimination. The chapter concludes by discussing how research on aversive racism and implicit bias has been mutually informative and suggests specific promising directions for future work.

In the final chapter, the straw man of the introduction is laid to rest – the Indus can no longer be seen as dull and homogenous and based on a few crops, but must instead be seen as vibrant and complex. The final chapter again acknowledges, though, that we have known this for a long time and we should stop rehashing the straw man and instead look to the future, outlining some new avenues for research instead.

Widely considered to be an art today, music in the medieval Islamic world was categorized as a branch of the mathematical sciences; in fact, some philosophers and scholars of music went as far as linking music with medicine and astrology as part of an interconnected web of cosmological knowledge. Focusing on the science of music this book discusses how a non-European premodern intellectual tradition – in this case, the Islamic philosophical tradition – conceptualized science. Furthermore, it explores how this intellectual tradition produced “correct” scientific statements and how it envisioned science’s relationship with other bodies of knowledge. Finally, it investigates what made music a science in the medieval Islamic world by examining the ontological debates surrounding the nature of music as a scientific discipline as well as the epistemological tools and techniques that contributed to the production of musical knowledge during the medieval period (third/ninth–ninth/fifteenth centuries).

A hundred years after the Xinhai Revolution, a centennial judgment has to be made by an impartial observer for the interest of China’s constitutional cause. Despite its sharp language, the main theme of the Manifesto is to explore the conditions and mechanisms of constitutional transformation, as well as the way out of the hopeless historical cycle of reform and revolution. It analyzes the cultural syndrome under absolute despotism and the difficulties it has caused to constitutional transformation, and presents the human dignity theory of modernized Confucianism as a possible solution to transform the Chinese moral and political personality.

In this paper dedicated to Hudson, we discuss the criteria used to define the dependency structure and to characterize the syntactic head of every syntactic unit. Hudson was the first one, in the 1980s, to really try to justify his choices of analysis in dependency syntax by using both distributional criteria with and without removal, but he never stated them in black and white. This paper is an attempt to propose distributional criteria for choosing a syntactic head and proving the head status of words that can generally not stand alone, such as determiners, prepositions, or auxiliaries. Three criteria are stated – a Positive and a Negative distributional criterion with removal and a Distributional criterion without removal – as well as a Distributional criterion for the head of a sentence. These criteria are compared to criteria used in Garde (), Hudson (, ), and Mel’čuk (), showing that Mel’čuk circumvented them in practice, while Hudson applied them quite systematically but never really stated them clearly.

A rich historiography of secularism (the doctrine of the separation of church and state) in India examines its fate as an essentially European Enlightenment export to the colonies. Indian secularism was a key component in the configuration of the relationship between nation, state and religion. Sumit Sarkar argues that secularism in India was seen as the other of communalism (mutual social, cultural and political antagonism between religions). The discourse of secularism that eventually became the distinct Indian one, that is, the state's equidistance and equal treatment of all religions, sprung from the needs of a united anti-colonial movement. Shabnam Tejani suggests that secularism was a bulwark for predominantly Hindu upper-caste male nationalists against challenges from the minorities, namely dalits and Muslims. Both ‘nationalist’ and ‘secularist’ became political positions with specific attributes, and any variance from these positions was deemed ‘anti-national’ or ‘communal’. What secularism was clearly not was a set of widely-agreed-upon human values that could endure various forms of national and regional crises.

Buddhism had the most ‘secularist potential’ through its denial of the existence of god, as T. N. Madan points out, though the history of Buddhism has more than revealed its political potential, where the world renouncer as monk is at a slightly higher plane than the world conqueror as king, while being mutually dependent. Many of the figures covered in the pages of this book did argue for Buddhism's secularist potential, that is, as a faith that was compatible with the modern age and modern politics while denying the existence of god. Buddhism was therefore more a philosophy rather than a religion.

Ashis Nandy's well-known formulation of the problem of secularism lays the blame at the feet of the Indian state and the elites that run it. The state regards religious ideology as its field of action and is unable to comprehend religion as faith. Elaborating on this in a similar way, Nandini Chatterjee, Anuradha Needham and Rajeshwari Sunder Rajan view the transition from religion to community—that is, religion as a guide to salvation to a political community with a bundle of rights—as the key transformation here. In India, as mentioned in Chapter 8, Buddhism's political community came with the dalit conversion in 1956 and after.