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This chapter discusses the second phase of UN involvement in Iraq, which seemed to herald the emergence of the Security Council as a New World Order Policeman. The Security Council’s capacity to legitimize the use of force provided a legal basis for international action to expel Iraqi forces from Kuwait in 1991. The chapter recounts the diplomatic and military success of Operations Desert Shield and Desert Storm — mandated to compel the withdrawal of Iraq from Kuwait and conducted by a coalition of states — drawing legitimacy from Security Council decisions under Chapter VII of the UN Charter. Chapter VII also provided a newly assertive basis for traditional activities, such as ceasefire implementation and border-monitoring tasks, the Council gave to a new mission, UNIKOM, deployed along the border between Iraq and Kuwait. This new police role for UN peace operations was part of a larger ‘New World Order’ heralded by President George H. W. Bush, which seemed to hold the promise of an international rule of law, enforced by a united P-5 operating through the Security Council.

The story of Jesus’ post-resurrection appearance in the New World is the climax of the Book of Mormon, but in some ways it is disappointing. It doesn’t fit well into the larger narrative and Jesus’ words consist, in large measure, of lengthy quotations from Isaiah, Micah, and the Sermon on the Mount. When examined from the perspective of the narrator, however, several key themes emerge. In Mormon's account, the issue of prophecy and fulfillment comes to the forefront, in both Samuel the Lamanite's predictions of the birth and death of Christ, and also in Jesus’ own prophecies concerning the destiny of the House of Israel and the fulfillment of the Law of Moses. The general flow of the narrative is punctuated by four significant editorial interruptions, and with the last of these, Mormon himself undergoes a literary transformation from historian to prophet.

Increasingly Roosevelt's 1930s America looked like European capitalism's last best hope. But what were the true lessons of its successes and obvious failures? ‘Middle’ opinion in Britain — personified by Keynes — took them seriously; the French Popular Front attempted to embrace them in lieu of the socialist revolution; everywhere the personal charisma and unbeatable optimism of the President served as an inspiration even as democractic politicians despaired that he would ever rescue them from the threat of war. But America was changing; an internationalist élite was girding itself to embrace the rendez-vous with history it saw in the Old World's collapse, developing its economic-determinist analysis of the roots of Europe's troubles, and presenting its view of a technologically driven, consumerist future with enormous panache at the New York World's Fair of 1939–40. But of all America's institutions, only Hollywood and the great foundations embraced the cause of European democracy openly, with the result that they became a mecca for the hundreds of intellectual and artistic exiles who fled to the US as war came.

This chapter examines why colonists assumed that English livestock and animal husbandry practices would easily transfer to the New World. They also presumed that by raising livestock on lands that Indians seemingly did not use, the English could justify their legal claim to the territory. Despite early difficulties, livestock populations eventually flourished.

This chapter concentrates on three distinct but related strands of Old World traditionalist disapprobation of the United States. The first focuses on British voices loyal to the Anglican Church, who tended to see the prevalence of ‘revivalist’, ‘sectarian’ religion in America as a consequence of the dangers of popular democracy and the weakening of rightly-constituted authority. Second, German-speaking Continental-Romantic voices are examined. Often nonplussed about a ‘history-less’ land, these voices frequently faulted the New World for its ‘lack of spirituality’ (Geistlosigkeit) and its cultural mediocrity in comparison to the spirit- and history-laden atmosphere of the Old World. Finally, the Catholic Church and its ultramontane supporters throughout Europe, roiled by revolution and anticlericalism in the 19th century, tended to view the United States skeptically as a seedbed of political liberalism and its excesses. These liberal excesses were often explained as a consequence of America's Protestant heritage and they contributed, in 1899, to the Vatican's condemnation of ‘Americanism’.

The huarango are a species of the genus Prosopis, one of the most common plants found along the watercourses of New World deserts and members of a family of nitrogen-fixing, bean-producing plants — the legumes — whose importance to humankind is second only to that of the cereal grasses and with which our relationship is even older. Today, perceptions of the genus are deeply divided between appreciation of its value on the one hand, and intense dislike of it as a thorny, invasive weed on the other. This chapter sifts through the reasons for this and a history of misidentification, in order to identify the particular characteristics of the huarango and, thereby, its true value as a human resource in the past. It suggests that thousands of years of co-evolution with humans have left their mark on the tree's form on the south coast of Peru.

This concluding chapter takes a brief look at the changes that took place among traditional producer countries in Europe and then offers some comments concerning the obstacles facing the producers in the New World. It finishes with reflections on the extent to which the organization of the wine industry today is the result of changes that took place before 1914. These changes were not uniform, and by 1914 major differences were found in the organization of production and marketing of commodity wines in places as far-flung as France, California, South Australia, and Mendoza. Even within a country such as France, new and differing institutions had appeared that altered market incentives for growers, winemakers, and merchants in places such as Bordeaux, Reims, and Montpellier.

This chapter considers how English people accommodated America and its inhabitants into their thinking during the century-and-a-half succeeding the first encounter — a subject that riveted the attention of earlier scholars but that has been strangely neglected by recent historians of England. Those persisting in the established lines of enquiry have been primarily interested in trade, and few recent historians of early modern England have been concerned with the intellectual responses of English observers to foreign peoples and places. The limited extent to which these early English voyagers appreciated America as a New World was acknowledged in 1625 by Samuel Purchas when he stated that accounts of pre-1580 voyages were situated by him, in his multivolume Pilgrimes, with texts relating to travel in the Old World because the navigators had then been ‘sailing from and for Europe’ and spent ‘most of their time on the Asian and African coasts’.

A counterpart to the symbolic affinities between the knowing self and the unknowable world in Mercator’s Atlas, the Essais reveal, from the perspective of the late Renaissance, the profound epistemic links between self-examination and global exploration. This chapter therefore considers the development of a distinctly modern relationship between self and world as it evolves through the New World essays and the monumental “Apologie de Raimond Sebond.” Reading the “Apologie” not as a skeptical manifesto, but rather as a paradigmatic treatise on worldmaking, it emphasizes how the Essais are preoccupied with the reimagining of the world in the wake of cross-cultural encounters. Montaigne interrogates all systems of world-order, exposing them as contingent human artifacts. Skepticism thus opens the way to intellectual renewal and demands a new ethical basis for living in a modern world as Montaigne insists on the permeability between an imagining self and a changing world.

This chapter surveys the role of the New World, from 1492 to 1616, in both Cervantes's writing projects and his personal history. His novels respond to the events precipitated by Spain's ultramarine enterprise in startling ways. As cultural forms, these novels are engaged in a dialogue with a great ensemble of lived and fictional practices that we now call Spanish colonialism. This chapter reviews some of the promising twentieth-century research on Cervantes's reading – what he had access to, what he was indebted to – in the huge textual family of the Chronicles of the lndies, classified as a mass of texts covering Spain's exploration, conquest, and colonization of the Americas. The chapter ends with a biographical sketch of Cervantes's life, including his frustrated attempts to emigrate to America.

This chapter uses part of a speech by the famous orator and abolitionist, Henry Highland Garnet, to examine some of the similarities between late 19th- and early 20th-century ideologies of racial egalitarianism in the New World and contemporary advocacy of hybridity, or what one scholar refers to as the “amalgamation thesis.” It further uses Garnet's declaration that the Western world is destined to become a “mongrel race” to pose a counterfactual for students of African-American studies, black politics, and African diaspora studies: What if Garnet's dictum, rather than Du Bois's declaration in the The Souls of Black Folk concerning “the color line” were the dominant trope for the probing of racial identification, categorization, and consciousness?

This chapter examines the entry and subsequent diffusion and incorporation of New World vocabulary from the native languages of the New World into early modern Spanish. In the New World, speakers of Spanish encountered languages with which they had not even a minimum degree of familiarity. At the outset communication was at best rudimentary. Early borrowings from these languages entered Peninsular Spanish via written reports from the New World. The overwhelming majority of indigenous lexical items that entered Peninsular and New World Spanish are nouns designating realities of the local physical terrain, flora, fauna, foods, dress, customs, indigenous social organization, etc. Only a relatively small number of words from the New World took root in Spain. The proposed New World origin of some items (e.g. tabaco, poncho) remains controversial.

This chapter summarizes the logic of comparative studies, and the work on Italian immigration to Buenos Aires and New York City from 1870 to 1914, and proposes what may be a coming agenda for immigration studies: a comparative typology of immigrant adjustment. It points out the need for more synthetic treatments that would historicize the experiences of all immigrating peoples.

The successes, as well as the failures, at Chicago helped LDS leaders realize the importance of exhibiting their ecclesiastical institution as a culturally advanced society thereafter. Striving for Utah statehood as well as religious legitimacy, LDS leaders who ventured to the White City in 1893 became convinced of the image-shaping utility of such gatherings. While in Chicago, Mormons sensed the importance, from a public relations perspective, of deemphasizing polarizing spiritual beliefs and practices and instead highlighting their religion's cultural contributions. Rather than stressing the despised LDS theology and reviled cosmology, church members showcased their territory's natural resources, the progressive contributions of their women and young ladies, and the musical prowess of the Tabernacle Choir. From henceforth, Mormons sought to exhibit themselves, rather than be exhibited by others.

This chapter examines the time in George Luks’s life when he began to seek out an alternative to magazine work. In January of 1894, Luks secured a position on the Philadelphia Press, rooming with Everett Shinn, a debonair man who intervened to rescue Luks from O’Malley’s bar. The chapter talks about the process through which, in the 1890s, most American newspapers contained drawings that were at first merely line pictures traced over paragraphs. When Luks joined the Press, however, photo tracing had been abandoned in favor of artists sketching assignments on the spot. These drawings, however, remained mainly anonymous, making it impossible to identify Luks’s work among them. The chapter moves on to recount the events that occurred when Luks eventually secured a job on the Philadelphia Evening Bulletin and the New York World.

This chapter provides a discussion on religion in relation to the British commercial Empire during the 18th century. Religion in the developing 18th-century British Empire was directly influenced by a burgeoning commercial culture. Strenuous efforts by the Church of England to co-ordinate its activities in the Atlantic world were seriously undercut. Growing colonial impulses intent on celebrating the blessings of free trade in goods were accompanied by equally potent forces expounding free trade in religious ideas and practices. By the second half of the century, this had swamped any hope of a religiously unified Empire and had firmly established religious competition throughout the New World marketplace. In general, Great Britain’s 18th-century Empire was driven by the marketplace rather than the meeting-house. The Great Awakening had taught men to make new choices in open market terms and had greatly increased the sense of individual destiny in America.