In this chapter I address two related questions: would it be desirable to restrict the business sectors ability to advocate? And, should corporations be encouraged to interface with society in a different way? I make the case that, if business was restricted in its ability to communicate with government officials, the officials would likely make decisions less accurately, but not any more independently of business. Furthermore, I argue that allowing relatively unfettered business advocacy can help ensure that regulations are innovation-friendly and, moreover, that in comparison to other political systems, the USs openness to business advocacy actually promotes innovation. These two arguments, when taken together, amount to a cautious case against restricting business advocacy. I then discuss a different way in which business organizations operate in the political arena: namely, the leveraging of the business organizations relationship with its customers, suppliers, or workers to pursue societal goals not directly tied to its own business. I argue that this behavior, despite being well-intentioned and popular with a segment of public opinion, should be approached with some caution by business corporations.

Did 1968 – a major moment of political and cultural revolt when young people across the globe rallied under the banner of “international solidarity” to challenge the Cold War consensus as well as the authorities of governments, institutions, and ways of thought – spell the end of nationalism?1 The symbolic shorthand “1968,” perhaps more than any other event of the twentieth century, quickly became synonymous with the triumph of internationalism. “National frontiers mean less than generational frontiers nowadays,” the London Times noted with astonishment in May 1968.2 Since then, the notion that the international trumped the national in this era has only become more firmly established in assessments of 1968.

Emotions have profound consequences for human functioning. Their influences can be adaptive, guiding people through life and ensuring effective functionality within society, but emotions can also result in irrationality and bias. This chapter focuses on the role of emotion in conspiratorial beliefs, using the QAnon conspiracy theory as an example. Within the chapter, we discuss affective factors that make QAnon appealing to its followers and the role of discrete emotions in the spread of misinformation and conspiratorial beliefs. The chapter also examines the influence of emotions on information processing. Given QAnon supporters’ strong emotional involvement in the movement, we discuss affective influences on information processing through the lens of affective polarization. In addition, we explain how emotions, particularly anger, influence the propensity towards extreme and sometimes violent action that has been on the rise among the followers of QAnon. The chapter concludes with a discussion of potential mitigating variables and strategies that might curb proliferation of QAnon.

Every edition of the French translation of Adam Smith’s Theory of Moral Sentiments published between 1798 and 1981 was accompanied by the Letters on Sympathy: the philosophical text of Smith’s French translator and interlocutor, Sophie de Grouchy (1763–1822). Grouchy declared that she intended to massage the message delivered in TMS for a French audience. Yet there has been little attempt to analyse the political motivations for the changes she made to Smith’s theory. This chapter describes two key critiques that Grouchy made of TMS: her rejection of the impartial spectator and her attack on hierarchy. Based on a redating of the drafting of the Letters to the mid-1780s, it argues that Grouchy focused on these elements due to two parallel contexts: her desire to write an educational treatise for an Académie française competition, and her involvement in an ancien régime legal scandal. After exploring how Grouchy constructed an Epicurean and egalitarian theory which she saw as better suited to these contemporary demands, the chapter concludes by arguing that seeing Grouchy as an “activist commentator” on Smith leads us to re-interpret the reception of his TMS in France.

This chapter draws conclusions based on the impacts of exclusionary and hierarchical practices, the relative value of ‘top-down’ reform and ‘bottom-up’ activism, and the place of global learning in a gradualist approach to progressive change. Beyond that, the chapter considers how an approach inspired by American Pragmatism informs Global International Relations, which seeks to construct a discipline that is more inclusive of non-Western perspectives. The chapter draws parallels between the book’s reading of classical Pragmatism and non-Western ‘cosmologies’ like Confucianism. This has been introduced to contemporary Western IR mainly through the works of Yaqing Qin. The chapter does, however, build on other works identifying resonances across Deweyan Pragmatism and Confucian philosophy. The chapter argues that if the Pragmatist turn in Western IR continues, then it can be more easily harmonized with non-Western approaches. This at least signposts a path ‘towards’ Global IR, even if it does not fix the path’s end point. Indeed, the chapter argues that we should follow such signs because they do not fix the destination. Those points are for practitioners and global publics to construct and reconstruct as they work collectively to mitigate lived problems through communities of practice that are inclusive, reflexive, creative and deliberative.

One of the most powerful ways to counter the isolation that often accompanies social media use – whether that use is professional or personal – is to foster community. That community can take various forms. For researchers and online investigators, it may mean working collaboratively or celebrating the cultures of those you are researching. For everyday users of social media, community may mean reaching out to others to talk about what you’re observing or to share your thoughts and feelings online. However, not all attempts to develop a sense of community are equally beneficial: According to recent research, for example, venting can have positive or negative effects, depending on how the user engages. In this chapter, the authors discuss what is known about effective ways to combat the isolation that can be endemic to online engagement, and how to proactively foster community in online and offline spaces to minimize the risk of psychological harm and maximize psychosocial well-being.

While people have similar biological responses when viewing graphic online imagery, our unique identities mediate that affect. This chapter explains how reactions to disturbing images can vary significantly from person to person, and how important it is to understand what makes each of us – and each other – more or less vulnerable to potential psychological harm when engaging online. The chapter explores how we can better protect our kids and communities by becoming more aware of the potential impact of social media content on ourselves and on other people, and the steps we can take to lessen the risk of harm.

In this chapter, we offer a number of recommendations for those who are in a position to do something technically, structurally, and legally or otherwise to minimize the risk of psychological harm that comes with the public’s use of social media and other online sites, especially their engagement with graphic or other upsetting digital material. We outline the policy implications of what we’ve learned from more than three years of desk research and original interviews that we have conducted with dozens of people, ranging from technologists to psychologists to content moderators to human rights investigators and beyond. We first spotlight the competing interests that underscore social media companies and governments’ policy deliberations with regard to content moderation. Next, we lay out our suggestions for companies, governments, and individuals with regard to how to improve the experiences of both content moderators and everyday social media users. We close with suggestions for creating a more “pro-social” online environment, one that not only better mitigates the risks of psychological harm but potentially encourages greater connection, resulting in wellness and even flourishing.

In the concluding chapter of Graphic, the authors recount the story of a pivotal trip they took to San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, where they absorbed the stories and insights of a diverse cohort of women who had gathered to discuss the concept of resilience. Through a World Cafe–style event, where the women discussed their perspectives on both trauma and healing, the authors gathered several insights that can be used to help foster positive experiences in peoples’ engagement with social media and other online spaces. This final part of the book underscores key themes from earlier chapters, including the power of humor, community, and connection to minimize psychological harm when engaging with graphic material online and, ultimately, to maximize well-being.

This chapter outlines the history of graphic visual content and its ability to advance social and human rights. The authors trace a path from 1863 and the United States’ civil war, when photos of beaten slaves were used to advance abolitionist causes, to contemporary images of atrocity in Ukraine, now being used to rally condemnation against Russian aggression. The chapter also discusses the social significance of other seminal, historical imagery, including videos of the beating of George Floyd and Rodney King, photos and videos of John F. Kennedy’s killing, photos from the Holocaust and the Vietnam War, images that documented the beating and killing of Emmet Till, and iconic photographs from 9/11 and the War on Terror. A discussion of the qualitative and quantitative similarities and differences between historic images and digital images shared online today follows the description of these photos and their role in advancing social change.

While graphic online content may be upsetting, people who regularly work with such content – like journalists, content moderators at social media companies, and human rights investigators – have developed various strategies for minimizing the risk of psychosocial harm when engaging with such material. Many of these strategies can be adapted by the general public to limit the risk of harm and maximize the potential for positive outcomes from their online engagement. Such strategies include tactics aimed at increasing our control over when and how users view graphic online material, varying how users engage with upsetting media, treating such content like “toxic waste” and limiting exposure of the user, their loved ones, and their households, and striking the balance between looking at and engaging with such content, and knowing when it may be better to look away.

Too often, people mindlessly scroll through their social media feeds and other online spaces to catch up on the activities of their friends and family or simply to pass the time. However, this behavior can leave them vulnerable to the more insidious aspects of online engagement, especially if they come across graphic online content – whether intentionally or without warning. In this chapter, the authors of Graphic discuss how bringing greater intentionality to one’s online engagement can serve as a protective force. They summarize the most recent research and insights from their interviews with diverse experts to illustrate tactics for deriving greater meaning from time spent online and ultimately how to use that engagement to not only protect oneself from psychological harm but also to potentially even flourish.

Countering popular assumptions about comics being made for and by men, this chapter begins by offering a brief alternative comics history focusing on women artists, covering comics production from the mainstream to the underground. Taking cues from recent exhibitions on women artists and comics history by women authors and artists, the chapter provides insight into the different contexts and communities, covering political cartoonists and illustrators, mainstream and underground artists.

The second half of the chapter focuses on the graphic novel and examines works by Lynda Barry and a new generation of women comics artists, Ebony Flowers and Weng Pixin. It elaborates on the possibilities of reading the graphic novels in light of the rich history of women artists and comics storytelling, building bridges between individual and collective stories while pointing out the innovations unfolding through drawing, writing, and collage.

Chapter 8 reviews the main arguments of the book, with a discussion about how they can be applied to the new political environment in the Xi era and beyond. The chapter shows that the frequency of atomized protests did not necessarily decline in the Xi era, but its nature changed substantially. The number of interest-based protests declined dramatically, and this could be related to the Xi regimes tighter control over civil society actors such as journalists and labor NGOs. Based on two prominent cases of government crackdown on labor NGOs, the chapter demonstrates that atomized incorporation inevitably requires the regimes continued efforts to monitor and punish defectors. The chapter discusses long-term implications of atomized incorporation by looking at subtle forms of noncooperation.

Chapter 1 unfolds the historical context of two central overarching notions in this book’s narrative: the German Kulturstaat and the country’s Bildungsbürgertum. Combining historical analysis with ethnographic fieldwork in Berlin during the fiftieth-anniversary edition of Germany’s largest theatre festival and observations at the city’s iconic Volksbühne, this chapter explores the moral significance attributed to institutionalised public theatres, as well as activist contestations of its state patronage and institutional structures. It also traces the role of cultural politics in facilitating the emergence of public theatres as sites for aesthetic self-cultivation (Bildung) and nation-building in the face of an increasingly diverse contemporary Germany. Expanding on the notion of institutions as traditions in Western contexts, it expands on the necessity for anthropology to take into account cultural history and art history as part of fieldwork.

Poised between attentive ethnography and urgent critique, the chapter asks whether politics can be re thought by combining or seeing the connections between phenomena normally considered irrelevant and separated by scale. Specifically the politics that might emerge from a haircut. By tracing unruly affects and effects of the radiate outwards from the material presence of a bob cut.

Anyone who has been observing the activities of the ruling class – both in government and in business – can see that it is disorganised, and, when viewed in isolation, tactically incapable and unwilling to address even short-term crises, let alone a significant existential dilemma such as the climate crisis. A revitalised social movement could promote swift and equitable climate action: what it needs to do is to mobilise 3.5 per cent of the population – although, of course, whether this number is enough to address any particular world crisis is unknown.

The Thompson-Chesson family represent how, across three generations, nineteenth-century reformers cultivated habits of performance critique to improve the efficacy of their political work. Across various domains, and utilising many organising techniques and expressions, liberal activism was forged in this milieu. By investigating how men and women built networks and forged more effective practices, liberal convictions take form as activist practices.