‘Strait’ is not a term of art, and it is not defined in any of the conventions produced by the United Nations Conferences on the Law of the Sea. It bears its ordinary meaning, being ‘geographically, a narrow passage between two land masses or islands or groups of islands connecting two sea areas.’ It is the legal status of the waters constituting the strait and the fact of their use by international shipping, rather than any definition of ‘strait’ as such, that determines the rights of coastal and flag States in the waters of the strait. This chapter first considers the rules governing straits prior to the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS), before turning to a detailed analysis of the UNCLOS regime, notably the transit passage through straits used for international navigation, established by Part III of the Convention. It addresses a coastal State’s legislative jurisdiction and the (less clear) scope of a coastal State’s enforcement jurisdiction. It considers the issue of whether there is a right similar to transit passage through international straits as a matter of customary international law. The chapter concludes by noting special regimes which regulate passage through particular straits.
The territorial sea is the first coastal State maritime zone seawards of the baseline and internal waters. This chapter traces its development as a concept, and then addresses the current legal status of the bed, subsoil and superjacent air space of the territorial sea. The breadth of the territorial sea is explained, with reference to relevant State practice. The chapter provides a detailed analysis of the right of innocent passage, including of warships and ships carrying hazardous cargoes, and of the right to deny and suspend passage. Other rights, as well as the duties, of the coastal State are discussed, including the scope of its legislative and enforcement jurisdiction over foreign vessels.
Ranters, Quakers and the revolutionary public sphere
This chapter re-examines relations between Quakers and Ranters in the 1650s. Although J. C. Davis’ robust attack on the Ranters in the 1990s has been widely rebutted, it retains nevertheless an enduring influence on scholarly approaches to radical sects in the 1650s. Accounts of Ranters still focus on the small handful of so-called Ranter authors. Their broader significance is largely understood negatively, as a thorn in the side of religious and political settlement in the 1650s, or as esoteric intellectuals operating on the margins of acceptable religious doctrine. Using material from Quaker correspondence, this chapter explores the broader impact of Ranter preaching and Ranter authors on local audiences. Quakers and Ranters sought out public debate and conducted formal disputations with each other in front of religiously diverse local audiences throughout the 1650s; Quaker authors worked hard, both in print and in local meetings, to refute Ranter ideas on sin and transgression, and argued for the importance of moral regulation governed by conscience, as part of their on-going campaign for the statutory provision of liberty of conscience. Ann Hughes’ work has been pivotal in founding a scholarship that has established the vibrancy and participatory nature of religion and politics during the 1640s and 1650s. This chapter builds upon her work and argue that the public exchanges and formal debates between Ranter and Quaker preachers can be integrated into this participatory model.
Developing States have long argued that the lack of appropriate technology is an obstacle to their development. During the 1970s the UN General Assembly adopted a number of resolutions calling for the mandatory transfer of technology. While never accepted by developed States, those calls left their mark on the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea. As originally drafted, Part XI required those engaged in mining in the Area to transfer relevant technology to developing States. However, the Implementation Agreement (1994) removed that obligation, as explained in chapter twelve. This chapter examines other provisions in the Convention on the transfer of technology, notably those in Part XIV, which is exclusively concerned with the topic. It is argued that the provisions of Part XIV are purely hortatory, not least because they do not adequately address the intellectual property issues involved in the transfer of technology. The chapter goes on to discuss the ‘Criteria and Guidelines on the Transfer of Marine Technology’ adopted by the UN Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization’s Intergovernmental Oceanographic Commission and action taken thereunder. The last part of the chapter suggests that over the years the emphasis in international fora has shifted from the transfer of technology to capacity-building, as the latter is a less politically loaded term and broader in concept. Examples are given of capacity-building in relation to ocean affairs undertaken by international organisations.
This chapter examines why Montaigne, the great French Catholic writer and sceptic, was so appealing to the radical writer and Leveller leader William Walwyn. It argues that Montaigne was crucial to Walwyn’s self-fashioning, though he would not have used the term with its implications of theatrical self-presentation. Plain, direct, true to his self (especially his conscience), and made uneasy by any kind of behaviour marked by dissimulation, the ‘honest papist’ (as Walwyn characterised Montaigne) provided a kind of broad-minded, multi-vocal European model for Walwyn in his seventeenth-century world too often marred by religious enmity, suspicion, treachery and uncharitable Christian behaviour. Walwyn was making a powerful polemical point by using the ‘honest papist’ writer as a major authority on ethical, religious and political matters. Montaigne may have been ‘but a Romish Catholique’, but his essays, and the often startling perspectives they provided, offered Walwyn some of the most provocative, unorthodox observations about Christian religion and behaviour in a seventeenth-century world of Protestant divisions in which ‘pretence of pietie and religion’ (to recall a phrase from Montaigne’s ‘Of Cannibals’) was too often manipulated and where toleration itself was far from assured. Montaigne appealed to Walwyn the radical tolerationist not simply because of his irenic sensibility – as unusual as that was in his own age of religious extremism – but because of his tendency to interpret against the grain and to unsettle deeply ingrained stereotypes, dogmatic perspectives, and religious prejudices based upon claiming doctrinal infallibility.
Richard Culmer and the practices of polemic during the English Revolution
Richard Culmer – the famous Canterbury iconoclast – shares certain characteristics with the well-known Presbyterian preacher from the civil wars, Thomas Edwards. Both were controversial ministers, and both became involved in the world of print culture and pamphleteering. With both men, however, there has always been a danger that the printed pamphlets are studied in order to reconstruct their lives and ideas, or the beliefs and activities of those that they studied, in ways which left unanswered questions about the role that print played within their careers, and the ways in which they thought about its uses. Of course, pioneering work by Ann Hughes has helped to revolutionise our understanding of the print revolution, and the innovative ways in which Edwards appropriated print as part of mobilisation strategies. This piece revisits the texts produced by and about both Richard Culmer and his son, in order to deepen our understanding of the nature, practices and role of polemic during the civil wars and interregnum, not least in relation to the ways in which pamphlets deployed evidence in order to mould reputations, and did so in ways that might be thought to have resonated – perhaps in different ways – both nationally and in the locality.
Sounds and images in The Twilight Zone, ‘The Invaders’
This chapter analyses the unusual and expressive uses of both visual style and sound in an episode of the science fiction series The Twilight Zone, ‘The Invaders’ (1961). The episode has no dialogue, though it has some framing narration spoken direct to camera, and it has little music. Nevertheless, this chapter makes the case that the consequent rebalancing of the usual expressive means available to television is both innovative and compelling. The absence of sound becomes an occasion to think more precisely about what sound does, and by removing some of the usual functions of sound the episode allows us to question the customary hierarchy in which sound is a support for the image. Shifts in the viewer’s knowledge of the fictional world depend on how image and sound manipulate our relationship with the female protagonist of ‘The Invaders’ in both conventional and unconventional ways. Sounds produced by her vocally, by her body movement and as a result of actions she initiates, as well as sounds coming from alien invaders and their technologies, carry an extraordinary weight because of the lack of other kinds of audio information. Lack of the speech which would usually convey information, emotion and tone encourages the viewer to attend to images more intensely than usual, reading details of setting, costume, posture and facial expression for example, to make sense of the action.
Jazz music and images of the past in Stephen Poliakoff’s Dancing on the Edge
Will Stanford Abbiss
This chapter examines Stephen Poliakoff’s television serial Dancing on the Edge (BBC Two, 2013), focusing on its use of originally composed jazz music and its development of fictional spaces. The analysis of the chapter shows how these elements can agree or disagree with each other; this embodies the dichotomy between optimism for the future and the political and social developments that lead to the Second World War, felt in the serial’s 1930s setting and represented by the binary of its title. Focusing on a Black British jazz band, Dancing on the Edge’s narrative concerns of racial identity are reflected in the struggle of their invigorating music to overcome the darker elements of 1930s society. The moment examined shows the Louis Lester Band performing for members of royalty, their ascent into high society undermined by the intercut scene of their manager being deported to America. It is argued that music becomes the organising element of this scene, allowing cultural significance not indicated by dialogue alone to be felt. Following this, the serial’s use of ‘Poliakovian’ spaces is assessed, considering the importance of the hotel space as a potential heterotopia and Poliakoff’s own cultural position. Lastly, the postmodernism of Dancing on the Edge’s music is identified, through the modulation of its music and its ‘decoupling’ from the band’s performances in the serial’s final episode. The conclusion asserts the broader significance of Louis’s subjectivity in the serial, in terms of both its historical moment and the potentials of period drama productions on television.
This chapter explores the use of direct audience address in Netflix’s flagship drama House of Cards, and the role of this technique in building up a relationship between the show’s Machiavellian anti-hero, Frank Underwood, and the television audience. As was the case with the BBC series on which the show was based, critics were divided on the ‘theatrical’ strategy of breaking the ‘fourth wall’ between the audience and the lead character. This chapter, however, will argue that the device of direct address is key to the characterisation of the anti-hero as well as to the viewer’s investment in his story. On a simple level it gives us privileged access to Frank’s character allowing us to enjoy the ‘operational aesthetic’ of watching his plans unfold. On a more complex level it creates an inter-diegetic space and a reflexive metanarrative, while employing a shifting tone that subtly informs the dynamics of the narrative. Frank’s use of direct address to camera is as variable in form as it is in function, producing a degree of affective disorientation, both in terms of our cognitive and emotional alignment with Frank himself and in terms of our immersion in his story-world. We are lured into an imaginative investment in the anti-hero, who at once seduces us with this cleverness and repels us with his cynicism; simultaneously we are reminded that both he and his world are fictional constructs, enabling us to set aside our own moral judgement and blamelessly enjoy his wickedness.
This chapter argues that the creative and evocative use of sound throughout BBC’s drama Bodyguard played a particularly important, though generally unacknowledged, role in the show’s success. Analysis of the prolonged opening sequence, in which the protagonist thwarts a plot to blow up a moving train, reveals how claustrophobic visual framing and dynamic editing contribute to an overarching atmosphere of threat. However, the most critical factor in producing the intense paranoia that pervades the scene is the aural mise-en-scène, a blend of composed music and sound design. The discussion explores a carefully nuanced soundscape integrating diegetic sonic components, such as metallic screeches and groans apparently emanating from within the scene’s train setting. These aural elements transform the composed non-diegetic music into a liminal acoustic presence that shifts between sound design and underscore in a manner resonant of the musique concrète, pioneered by Pierre Schaeffer. The chapter argues that these aural themes act as accelerants for the dramatic tension of the overall narrative, as well as metaphors for its protagonist’s mental state. It further explores the ways in which the text uses aural and visual points of perception to create an ambiguous psychological portrait of Bodyguard’s central protagonist. It then traces the ways in which similar aural themes emerge extra-diegetically in subsequent scenes, where the story setting no longer provides a diegetic rationale for their inclusion. This chapter argues that Bodyguard’s complex sonic structures represent far more than an aural reflection of visual storytelling: here sound design undercuts, intensifies and challenges the visual domain.