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Too often, approaches to dealing with the problems posed by the spread of HIV have been one dimensional, with the assumption that what works in one place will work in another. This book includes chapters representing a range of original ideas, methodologies, and suggestions that contribute to the field of AIDS research, both in Africa and beyond. The chapters examine such issues as HIV transmission, condom use, sexual patterns, male circumcision, political factors, gender, poverty, and behavioral change. The book features the research of those working in different countries in Africa, with different communities within those countries, and with different age, class, religious, and ethnic groups within those communities. These previously unpublished chapters also address the need for a greater anthropological perspective in the increasingly medicalized and politicized study of HIV and AIDS. As a whole, they pave the way for a deeper cultural understanding necessary to effectively reverse the catastrophic growth of HIV/AIDS on the continent.

Tracing the history of efforts in the United States to limit the sexual freedoms of such persons, using methods such as forced sterilization, invasive birth control, and gender-segregated living arrangements, Michael Gill demonstrates that these widespread practices stemmed from dominant views of disabled sexuality, not least the notion that intellectually disabled women are excessively sexual and fertile while their male counterparts are sexually predatory. Analyzing legal discourses, sex education materials, and news stories going back to the 1970s, Gill shows, for example, that the intense focus on “stranger danger” in sex education for intellectually disabled individuals disregards their ability to independently choose activities and sexual partners, including nonheterosexual ones, which are frequently treated with heightened suspicion. He also examines ethical issues surrounding masturbation training that aims to regulate individuals’ sexual lives, challenges the perception that those whose sexuality is controlled (or rejected) should not reproduce, and proposes recognition of the right to become parents for adults with intellectual disabilities. A powerfully argued call for sexual and reproductive justice for people with intellectual disabilities, Already Doing It urges a shift away from the compulsion to manage “deviance” (better known today as harm reduction) because the right to pleasure and intellectual disability are not mutually exclusive. In so doing, it represents a vital new contribution to the ongoing debate over who, in the United States, should be allowed to have sex, reproduce, marry, and raise children.

The Chagos islanders were forcibly uprooted from the Chagos Archipelago in the Indian Ocean between 1965 and 1973. This book compares the experiences of displaced Chagos islanders in Mauritius with the experiences of those Chagossians who have moved to the UK since 2002. It provides an ethnographic comparative study of forced displacement and onward migration within the living memory of one community. Based on in-depth ethnographic fieldwork in Mauritius and Crawley (West Sussex), the six chapters explore Chagossians' challenging lives in Mauritius, the mobilisation of the community, reformulations of the homeland, the politics of culture in exile, onward migration to Crawley, and attempts to make a home in successive locations. The book illuminates how displaced people romanticise their homeland through an exploration of changing representations of the Chagos Archipelago in song lyrics. Offering further ethnographic insights into the politics of culture, it shows how Chagossians in exile engage with contrasting conceptions of culture ranging from expectations of continuity and authenticity to enactments of change, loss, and revival.

Death is simultaneously silent, and very loud, in political life. Politicians and media scream about potential threats lurking behind every corner, but academic discourse often neglects mortality. Life is everywhere in theorisation of security, but death is nowhere.Making a bold intervention into the Critical Security Studies literature, this book explores the ontological relationship between mortality and security after the Death of God – arguing that security emerged in response to the removal of promises to immortal salvation. Combining the mortality theories of Heidegger and Bauman with literature from the sociology of death, Heath-Kelly shows how security is a response to the death anxiety implicit within the human condition.The book explores the theoretical literature on mortality before undertaking a comparative exploration of the memorialisation of four prominent post-terrorist sites: the World Trade Center in New York, the Bali bombsite, the London bombings and the Norwegian sites attacked by Anders Breivik. By interviewing the architects and designers of these reconstruction projects, Heath-Kelly shows that practices of memorialization are a retrospective security endeavour – they conceal and re-narrate the traumatic incursion of death. Disaster recovery is replete with security practices that return mortality to its sublimated position and remove the disruption posed by mortality to political authority.The book will be of significant interest to academics and postgraduates working in the fields of Critical Security Studies, Memory Studies and International Politics.

This book addresses key aspects of the post- and decolonial analysis of childhood, such as the scope and limitations of Eurocentric concepts of childhood and the impact of social inequality aggravated by capitalist globalization on children's life prospects. In this context, it discusses the specific modes of agency emerging in children of the Global South. It reconstructs the way in which the colonialization process and the ideologies that supported it have used the metaphor of childhood, and investigates the extent to which they are reproduced in processes of colonizing childhoods. The book presents some colonial and postcolonial policy approaches to modelling childhood in different regions of the world, and asks how, within the postcolonial constellation, children's rights are to be understood and how to deal with them to overcome postcolonial paternalism. Particularly, it discusses various forms of paternalism and asks how they can be overcome in the field of rights-based children’s protection and participation and how child-led movements in the Global South can be understood as a form of citizenship from below. The book explains theoretical and conceptional reflections by case studies from Africa, Latin America and Asia. Finally, the book portrays efforts directed against the invisibilization, marginalization and social exclusion of childhoods and the recuperation of a dignified life of children.

Taking a critical view of a venerated international principle, this book shows how the concept of human rights—often taken for granted as a force for good in the world—corresponds directly with U.S. imperialist aims. Citing internationalists from W. E. B. Du Bois and Frantz Fanon to, more recently, M. Jacqui Alexander and China Miéville, the text insists on a reckoning of human rights with the violence of colonial modernity. Despite the emphasis on international human rights since World War II, the text notes that the discourse of human rights has consistently reinforced the concerns of the ascendant global power of the United States. It demonstrates how the alignment of human rights with the interests of U.S. expansion is not a matter of direct control or conspiratorial plot but the result of a developing human rights consensus that has been shaped by postwar international institutions and debates, from the United Nations to international law. The book probes high-profile cases involving Amnesty International, Nelson Mandela, the International Lesbian and Gay Human Rights Commission, Abu Ghraib, and Guantánamo, as well as offering readings of works such as Hotel Rwanda, Caché, and Death and the Maiden that have put forth radical critiques of political violence.

Heightened awareness of the problem of sexual abuse has led to deep anxiety over adults touching children—in nearly any context. Though our society has moved toward increasingly strict enforcement of this taboo, studies have shown that young children need regular human contact, and the benefits of breastfeeding have been widely extolled. Exploring the history of love, desire, gender, sexuality, parenthood, and inequality, this book probes the disquieting issue of how we can draw a clear line between natural affection toward children and perverse exploitation of them. The author demonstrates that we cannot determine what is wrong about sexual abuse without first understanding what is good about appropriate sensual affection. Looking at topics such as the importance of touch in nurturing children, the psychology of abuse and victimhood, and recent ideologies of motherhood, she argues that we must expand our philosophical and theological language of physical love and make a distinction between sexual love and erotic love. Taking on theological and ethical arguments over the question of sexuality between unequals, the author arrives at the conclusion that it can be destructive to completely bar eroticism from these relationships.

From Reason to Practice in Bioethics: An Anthology Dedicated to the Works of John Harris brings together original contributions from some of the world’s leading scholars in the field of bioethics. With a particular focus on, and critical engagement with, the influential work of Professor John Harris, the book provides a detailed exploration of some of the most interesting and challenging philosophical and practical questions raised in bioethics. The book’s broad range of chapters make it a useful resource for students, scholars, and practitioners interested in the field of bioethics, and the relationship between philosophical and practical ethics. The range of contributors and topics afford the book a wide international interest.

Teaching evolution in the public schools has led to heated conflicts since the 1920s. It continues with undiminished strength to the present day as activist citizens and elected officials fight to diminish evolution's place in the science classroom by any means necessary. This ongoing war has touched nearly every state, and Florida is no exception. Its state legislature, state school board, local school boards, governors, and individual teachers have all felt the creationism vs. evolution heat. This book details the colorful characters and dramatic events that occurred as people tried to outlaw the teaching of evolution or balance it with mandatory creationist lessons. Several times over the decades, state lawmakers have attempted to pass laws on the subject. A few local school boards considered making creationism a part of the science curriculum, and one nearly succeeded. However, despite the passion the subject has always sparked and still sparks today, these and other events have faded from the public's and current elected officials’ memories. Few people, if any, who fight in the modern evolution education battles, realize they are on well-trodden ground. This book's purpose is to chronicle the constant battles and to educate the public, both in Florida and nationwide, about the state's science vs. religion struggles, both big and small.

Although the rate of gun ownership in U.S. households has declined from an estimated 50 percent in 1970 to approximately 32 percent today, Americans' propensity for carrying concealed firearms has risen sharply in recent years. Today, more than 11 million Americans hold concealed handgun licenses, an increase from 4.5 million in 2007. Yet, despite increasing numbers of firearms and expanding opportunities for gun owners to carry concealed firearms in public places, we know little about the reasons for obtaining a concealed carry permit or what a publicly armed citizenry means for society. Angela Stroud draws on in-depth interviews with permit holders and on field observations at licensing courses to understand how social and cultural factors shape the practice of obtaining a permit to carry a concealed firearm. Stroud's subjects usually first insist that a gun is simply a tool for protection, but she shows how much more the license represents: possessing a concealed firearm is a practice shaped by race, class, gender, and cultural definitions that separate "good guys" from those who represent threats. This work goes beyond the existing literature on guns in American culture, most of which concentrates on the effects of the gun lobby on public policy and perception. Focusing on how respondents view the world around them, this book demonstrates that the value gun owners place on their firearms is an expression of their sense of self and how they see their social environment.

The book develops a novel theory of children’s place in liberal theory. It argues that justice requires promoting children’s wellbeing, not merely their fair access to resources. I argue that one important driver of children’s wellbeing is the ethical doctrines held by others in their society, as such a just society requires a culture that is conducive to children’s current and later flourishing. I outline a conception of children’s interests rooted in their ability to develop their talents, and in their current and future relationships with their family and wider community. I then apply this theory to the morality of parenting, and to two important distributive questions, school funding and parental subsidies. I argue that parents have important moral rights over their children, but that these rights are considerably more circumscribed than is often believed. I suggest that children’s deepest interests are furthered by equality of opportunity, and that the importance of parenting implies that states should transfer resources to families.

The contemporary animal rights movement encompasses a wide range of sometimes-competing agendas from vegetarianism to animal liberation. For people for whom pets are family members—animal lovers outside the fray—extremist positions in which all human–animal interaction is suspect often discourage involvement in the movement to end cruelty to other beings. This book argues that in order to achieve such goals as ending animal testing and factory farming, activists need to be better attuned to the profound emotional, even spiritual, attachment that many people have with the animals in their lives. Offering an alternative to both the acceptance of animal exploitation and radical animal liberation, the text shows that a deeper understanding of the nature of our feelings for and about animals can redefine the human–animal relationship in a positive way. The text explores five realms in which humans use animals: as pets, for food, in entertainment, in scientific research, and for clothing. In each case it presents new methods of animal advocacy to reach a more balanced and sustainable relationship association built on reciprocity and connection.

A psychiatrist writes a letter to a journal explaining his decision to marry a former patient. Another psychiatrist confides that most of his friends are ex-patients. Both practitioners felt they had to defend their behavior, but the author of this book, a psychoanalyst, could not pinpoint the reason why. What was wrong about the analysts' actions? The author explores and explains that problem of “correct behavior.” He demonstrates that the inflated and official expectations that are part of an analyst's training—that therapists be universally curious, hopeful, kind, and purposeful, for example—are often of less help than simple empathy amid the ambiguous morality of actual patient interactions. Being a good therapist and being a good person, he argues, are not necessarily the same. Drawing on case studies from his own practice and from the experiences of others, as well as on philosophers such as John Dewey, the author breaks new ground and leads the way for therapists to understand the relationship between private morality and clinical practice.

Animals fall in love, establish rules for fair play, exchange valued goods and services, hold “funerals” for fallen comrades, deploy sex as a weapon, and communicate with one another using rich vocabularies. Animals also get jealous and violent or greedy and callous and develop irrational phobias, just like us. Monkeys address inequality, wolves miss each other, elephants grieve for their dead, and prairie dogs name the humans they encounter. Human and animal behavior is not as different as once believed. In Not So Different, the biologist Nathan H. Lents argues that the same evolutionary forces of cooperation and competition have shaped both humans and animals. Identical emotional and instinctual drives govern our actions. By acknowledging this shared programming, the human experience no longer seems unique, but in that loss we gain a fuller appreciation of such phenomena as sibling rivalry and the biological basis of grief, helping us lead more grounded, moral lives among animals, our closest kin. Through a mix of colorful reporting and rigorous scientific research, Lents describes the exciting strides scientists have made in decoding animal behavior and bringing the evolutionary paths of humans and animals closer together. He marshals evidence from psychology, evolutionary biology, cognitive science, anthropology, and ethology to further advance this work and to drive home the truth that we are distinguished from animals only in degree, not in kind.

The experience of being Han in Xinjiang is part of the broader experience of migration and frontier settlement in PRC-era China. Drawing on analysis of history, biography, and social structure, Oil and Water dispels the notion that Han settlers in Xinjiang are homogenous, or that their interests necessarily align with those of the state. The book argues that it is more by default than by their own design that Han in Xinjiang are colonists, although colonists they are. Each of the core chapters has a strong biographical element, and is concerned with how formal and informal structures, agency, and chance interact to shape lives. Each chapter also focuses on one or more of the classic topics of sociological studies of China, including urbanization, the socialist-style work unit (danwei), state discourses and collective memory, social connections (guanxi), marriage and the family, and mass protest. From this socially-grounded and ethnographic perspective, the book illuminates key aspects of the relationship between China’s core area and Xinjiang-as-periphery. The “uncivilized periphery” remains essential to China’s national identity, and an integral part of Han settlers’ psychology. The frontier has been seen throughout history as simultaneously a place of exile and a place where liberation is possible, and that continues to be the case. Indeed, the search for freedom–of many different kinds–is what drives migration in contemporary times. Colonialism may be a metropolitan project, and somewhat abstract to elites in the metropole, but it is the superstructure of life for those on the periphery.

In recent years the news media have been awash with stories about increasingly close ties between college campuses and multimillion-dollar corporations. America's universities, the story goes, reap enormous windfalls patenting products of scientific research that have been primarily funded by taxpayers. Meanwhile, hoping for new streams of revenue from their innovations, the same universities are allowing their research—and their very principles—to become compromised by quests for profit. But is that really the case? Is money really hopelessly corrupting science? This book reveals that campus capitalism is more complicated—and less profitable—than media reports would suggest. While universities seek out corporate funding, news stories rarely note that those industry dollars are dwarfed by government support and other funds. Also, while many universities have set up technology transfer offices to pursue profits through patents, many of those offices have been financial busts. Meanwhile, science is showing signs of providing its own solutions, as highly publicized misdeeds in pursuit of profits have provoked promising countermeasures within the field. But just because the threat is overhyped, the book argues, does not mean that there is no danger. From research that has shifted overseas so corporations can avoid regulations to conflicts of interest in scientific publishing, the temptations of money will always be a threat, and they can only be countered through the vigilance of scientists, the press, and the public.

It is an easy assumption that social service programs and social scientific studies respond to homelessness after the fact, attempting to understand and prevent it. This book, however, argues that homelessness is an effect of social services and sciences, which shape not only what counts as homelessness, but also what will be done about it. Drawing from many years of work experience in homeless advocacy and activist settings, as well as interviews conducted with program managers, counselors, and staff at homeless services organizations in New York, Philadelphia, Seattle, San Francisco, and Seattle, this book offers the first analysis of how housing insecurity becomes organized as a legible, governable social problem. The past twenty-five years have witnessed a significant conceptual shift; whereas earlier social science and service discourse focused on individual pathologies as the locus for intervention, today a homeless population has replaced the individual as the primary object of knowledge and governance. In the realm of population management, how to most efficiently allocate resources to manage ongoing insecurity becomes the goal, rather than the eradication of the social, economic, and political bases of housing needs. Putting the work of Michel Foucault on biopower in dialogue with Marxist accounts of neoliberalism and critical race and ethnic studies analyses of the racial state and racial capitalism, the book argues that homelessness today constitutes a form of “surplus life,” populations made redundant as labor but valuable as a problem to be known and managed.

Human rights are usually understood to be that which Americans deliver unto others elsewhere, with little direct meaning for U.S. legal discourse, domestic political struggle, or American literary and cultural studies back at home. Writing Human Rights instead proposes human rights as a method for reading “minor literatures,” or fiction authored by contemporary U.S. writers of color from the closing years of the Cold War to the early years of the U.S. war on terror. It takes as its premise that—unlike a benevolent humanitarianism, which views its objects as pure victims—human rights provide deeply meaningful modes of ethical imagining for political subjects. By engaging the ethical deliberations that these minor literatures stage, Writing Human Rights explores the conditions under which new norms, more capacious formulations of rights, and alternative kinds of political community emerge. Beginning with writers such as Toni Morrison and ending with Aimee Phan, each chapter pairs works of minor literature with one human rights text, considering the specific principles that have been articulated as rights in international conventions and treaties. It offers close readings of the transnational political subjects and communities conceived in minor literature as they bear upon the legal texts and aspirational ideals of human rights, and vice-versa. Affiliating the “minor” subjects of American literary studies with decolonization, socialist, and other political struggles in the global south, this book illuminates a human rights critique of idealized American rights, freedoms, and good life that have been made global by the twenty-first century.

Why do we feel bad at the zoo? In a fascinating counterhistory of American zoos in the 1960s and 1970s, Lisa Uddin revisits the familiar narrative of zoo reform, from naked cages to more naturalistic enclosures. She argues that reform belongs to the story of cities and feelings toward many of their human inhabitants. In Zoo Renewal, Uddin demonstrates how efforts to make the zoo more natural and a haven for particular species reflected white fears about the American city—and, pointedly, how the shame many visitors felt in observing confined animals drew on broader anxieties about race and urban life. Examining the campaign against cages, renovations at the National Zoo in Washington, D.C. and the San Diego Zoo, and the cases of a rare female white Bengal tiger and a collection of southern white rhinoceroses, Uddin unpacks episodes that challenge assumptions that zoos are about other worlds and other creatures and expand the history of U.S. urbanism. Uddin shows how the drive to protect endangered species and to ensure larger, safer zoos was shaped by struggles over urban decay, suburban growth, and the dilemmas of postwar American whiteness. In so doing, Zoo Renewal ultimately reveals how feeling bad, or good, at the zoo is connected to our feelings about American cities and their residents.