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This chapter considers the impact on criminal law of adopting the relational self model. It discusses the concept of relational harm, the approach towards consent, the idea of relational blame and the definition of exploitation. It promotes a relational model of responding to criminal behaviour.
Saint Augustine “hath gret compassioun / Of this Lucresse,” declares a couplet early in Chaucer's retelling of the story of the Roman rape victim and suicide Lucretia — prompting the majority of modern commentators to conclude that the poet either never read Augustine's treatment of the story directly, or subsequently forgot what it says, or speaks here with deliberate irony. How, they ask, could anyone familiar with that text (City of God 1.19) judge it to be compassionate? But a second look reveals that the question has some positive answers, particularly when one attends not merely to the single chapter that names Lucretia but also to the surrounding thirteen-chapter discussion of rape and suicide in general. There Augustine shows compassion in several concrete ways that later summarizers omit and most modern readers overlook; the text even includes “compassion” in the strictest etymological sense of an attempt to feel-and-suffer-with a rape victim by imagining her inner world. Close attention to Chaucer's poem (the fifth in the Legend of Good Women) then uncovers more positive evidence for direct knowledge of Augustine, namely several apparent Chaucerian innovations in the story — most dramatically the fact that his Lucretia swoons just before the rape rather than “yielding” — that are easy to explain if the author was influenced by the City of God but are unnecessary or simply puzzling if not. A brief conclusion suggests points at which Chaucer's direct knowledge of Augustine's text might affect our interpretations of other poems.
Chapter Four revisits the controversial issue of sexual assault of female sent-down youth. Archival records make it clear that the compilation of statistics and the investigation of sexual misconduct were part of a campaign triggered by a state directive in 1973 concerning “harm to sent-down youth,” a campaign that pressured local officials to identify, expose, and investigate locals who had romantic relations with female sent-down youth, and punish individuals found guilty of sexual assault. This was not limited to rape, but included a range of behaviors and relationships previously deemed inappropriate and now classified as criminal: seduction, adultery, and molestation as well as flirting, dating, and affairs. Regardless of what type of intimacy was the basis of accusation and investigation, in almost every case individuals found to be guilty perpetrators of abuse were local men, and those they abused were urban women. Male sent-down youth who engaged in similar intimacies with fellow sent-down youth or local women were exempted from the investigations, as were local men who engaged in such intimacies with rural women.
A tropology of moral injury and corruption long framed the plight of the sex crime victim. Nineteenth-century psychiatric acknowledgment of adverse sexual experience reflected general trends in etiological thought, especially on ‘epileptic’ and hysteric seizures, but on the whole remained descriptive, guarded and limited. Various experiential threats to the modern sexual self beyond assault and rape were granted etiological significance, however: illegitimate motherhood, masturbatory guilt, sexual enlightenment, ‘homosexual seduction’ and chance encounters leading to fetishistic fixation. These minor early appeals to medical psychology help us appreciate the multiple nuances of ‘sexual trauma’ advanced in Breuer and Freud’s Studies on Hysteria (1895) and Freud’s subsequent work.
The use of physical force was a common experience among the kruso’b in the second half of the nineteenth century. Up to the 1870s, they suffered repeated assaults by government forces. In turn, they exerted violence for practical and expressive purposes against Yucatecan soldiers and civilians, as well as against various pacífico groups, searching for loot, scaring Yucatecans away from their frontier settlements, demoralizing soldiers etc. The chapter discusses the changes in the armament of the rebels and their guerrilla tactics. Kruso’b assaulted settlements in Yucatán ranging from small, entirely Indian hamlets to haciendas, villages and larger towns. Obvious targets were army soldiers, National Guard members, those involved in the self-defense of settlements, and Indians in positions of authority. The kruso’b killed or captured Indians, vecinos, men and women, children and the elderly indiscriminately. Kruso’b behavior during and after raids on Yucatecan or pacífico settlements did not follow a uniform pattern. While members of a certain age, gender or administrative category were slain in some cases, they were spared in others. The taking and the treatment of captives depended on a number of factors, changing rebel needs for labor being one of the most important.
Contemporary readers tend to view The Bell Jar through a post-feminist lens. Kate Harding situates the novel within a cultural and historical moment that we too readily lose sight of. Harding reads the novel in the context of 1950s discourses in which the gendered roles that Esther resists are enforced by sexual violence. Drawing on mid-twentieth century rape laws, Harding reveals the disconnect between Esther’s view of events and the contemporary readers’. Where the latter will see acquaintance rape and female victimisation, the former will see sexual availability and victim-blaming. In her brave and original response to The Bell Jar, Harding brings to light the pervasive rape culture that underpins Esther’ss story, and reveals the importance of this underpinning to our understanding of the novel.
Lust or luxuria, one of the Seven Deadly Sins, was a rich and resonant term in the medieval Christian world, evoking a whole range of appetites and desires while speaking to penitential and other ecclesiastical discourses on human sexuality. Chaucer was an avid and inventive theorist and narrator of lust in its many emotional, affective and incarnate permutations, treating the category of lust with great ingenuity though with a surprising inconsistency inherited in part from scholastic discourses on the sin and its ramifications in human life. In Chaucer’s representations of Criseyde, Troilus, the Wife of Bath, and the Parson, among many others, lust functions as both a simple human desire for some end as well as a direct pathway to sin.
Chaucer’s God considers how characters invoke God, both in terms of the everyday language of late medieval England and in the ways that the idea of God is reflected in Chaucer’s fiction. Conventional, non-theological utterances of the names for God by Chaucer’s characters as part of their, by turns, outwardly pious and unthinkingly impious phraseologies are discussed in the opening section, God Woot – ‘God knows’. Under the heading God Forwoot – ‘God foreknows’, some of the more challenging invocations of God are considered, such as the implications of divine foreknowledge and predestination on human free will in the Knight’s Tale, the Nun’s Priest’s Tale and Troilus and Criseyde. The concluding section, God in a Cruel World, asks whether in the Clerk’s Tale and the Franklin’s Tale, if Chaucer allowed his tales to reflect, and characters to reflect upon, the heretical notion of a God lacking in compassion for humanity.
Chaucer lived in a society that was aware of childhood and adolescence as distinctive stages of human life and which inherited practices whereby young people were brought up and trained for adulthood. Informally, at home, children were introduced to social norms, religion and work. Those from wealthier families underwent more formal education, mastering literacy at home, in schools or in great households, where they learnt reading, rules of courtesy, French and, in the case of some boys, Latin. Chaucer’s works refer in passing to most of these processes, with particular attention to adolescents, including university scholars. During the fifteenth century his works in general came to be seen as having educational value. The Astrolabe, first written for his son Lewis, seems to have been used for teaching reading to other young children while his major writings were recommended as suitable literature for older ones.
This chapter examines the place of law in the England of Chaucer’s day in both the formal legal system and in popular consciousness. It considers the relation of English common law both to the overarching law of God and to other institutional legal structures, not least the canon law of the church, as well as to more informal procedures. Intrinsic contradictions in the nature of legal norms, including the tension between the needs for general certainty and individual justice, provide much scope for writers of stories. Difficulties of proof and the role of the oath are outlined and an analysis is offered of the extent to which a knowledge of the law and legal system of Chaucer’s time can add to the appreciation and understanding of his work.
In the last decade, the rapes (of women) in, and the metaphoric raping (of natural resources) of, the Democratic Republic of Congo have received unprecedented attention from media, donors, and advocacy groups. Beginning in the early 2000s, these two narratives (the involvement of armed groups and state forces in illegal resource exploitation and the widespread prevalence of sexual violence in eastern DRC) merged to form a direct cause-consequence relationship, in which rape is framed as a tool for accessing mineral wealth. Through an analysis of media articles and reports of human rights organizations, this study traces the making of this rape-resources narrative, juxtaposing it with wider academic debates and critical scholarship. The narrative effectively focuses attention on a narrow set of actors and spaces in Congo’s conflicts, highlighting each of those actors/spaces in particular ways while obscuring the role of others. Because of this, key dynamics are missing from the narrative, such as historical context, gendered conflict dynamics, and armed group/civilian activity and mobilization, which are critical to understanding the scale and scope of violence in the region more broadly and the perpetration of instances of rape more specifically. The unraveling of the rape-resources narrative reveals its toxicity in limiting effective interventions and in closing down alternative narratives.
Background: Whilst evidence is mounting that childhood sexual abuse (CSA) can be a cause of auditory verbal hallucinations (AVH), it is unclear what factors mediate this relation. Recent evidence suggests that post-traumatic symptomatology may mediate the CSA–AVH relation in clinical populations, although this hypothesis has not yet been tested in the general population. There is also reason to believe that obsessive ideation could mediate the CSA–AVH relation. Aims: To test for evidence to falsify the hypotheses that post-traumatic symptomatology, obsessions, compulsions, anxiety and depression mediate the relation between CSA and AVH in a general population sample. Method: Indirect effects of CSA on AVH via potential mediators were tested for, using a regression-based approach employing data from the 2007 Adult Psychiatric Morbidity Survey (n = 5788). Results: After controlling for demographics, IQ and child physical abuse, it was found that CSA, IQ, post-traumatic symptomatology and compulsions predicted lifetime experience of AVH. Mediation analyses found significant indirect effects of CSA on AVH via post-traumatic symptomatology [odds ratio (OR): 1.11; 95% confidence interval (CI):1.00–1.29] and compulsions (OR: 1.10, 95% CI: 1.01–1.28). Conclusions: These findings offer further support for the hypothesis that post-traumatic symptomatology is a mediator of the CSA–AVH relation. Although no evidence was found for obsessional thoughts as a mediating variable, a potential mediating role for compulsions is theoretically intriguing. This study's findings reiterate the need to ask about experiences of childhood adversity and post-traumatic symptomology in people with AVH, as well as the likely therapeutic importance of trauma-informed and trauma-based interventions for this population.
This study investigated the induction and loss of dormancy in oilseed rape (Brassica napus). Twenty genotypes were preliminary screened; from these, two genotypes, RGS003 and Hayola 308, which possess high potential for dormancy induction (HSD) and medium potential to induce secondary dormancy (MSD), were selected. The stratification of seeds at alternating temperatures of 5–30°C (in dark) significantly relieved secondary dormancy, but dormancy was not fully released. The ψb(50) values were −1.05 and −1.06 MPa for the MSD and the HSD before dormancy induction. After inducing dormancy, the ψb(50) values for the MSD and the HSD were increased to −0.59 and −0.01 on day 0 stratification at 20°C. The hydrothermal time (θHT) value was low for one-day stratification for HSD in comparison with other stratification treatments. Water stress can induce dormancy (if the seeds have the genetic potential for secondary dormancy) and warm stratification (in dark) can only reduce the intensity of dormancy. The seeds with a high potential of dormancy induction can overcome dormancy at alternating temperatures and in the presence of light. It can, therefore, be concluded that a portion of seeds can enter the cycle of dormancy ↔ non-dormancy. The secondary dormant seeds of B. napus cannot become non-dormant in darkness, but the level of dormancy may change from maximum (after water stress) to minimum (after warm stratification). It seems that the dormancy imposed by the conditions of deep burial (darkness in combination with water stress and more constant temperatures) might be more important to seed persistence than secondary dormancy induction and release. The dormancy cycle is an important pre-requisite in order to sense the depth of burial and the best time for seed germination.
Claims of sexual violence against female conscripts by military commanders abound in the Eritrean National Service (ENS), but hitherto there has been no attempt to subject these claims to rigorous empirical scrutiny. This article is a partial attempt to fill the gap. Based on data collected through snowball sampling from 190 former conscripts in the United Kingdom, Switzerland, Norway, South Africa, Kenya, and Sweden who fled from the ENS, supplemented by data from systematically selected key informants who were interviewed in depth, it examines the extent to which female conscripts serving in the ENS were subjected to sexual violence and harassment by their commanders, including at the Sawa military training camp. The extensive data, based on the perceptions and experiences of respondents who served on average about six years, suggest that sexual abuse is rampant throughout the ENS, particularly among female conscripts who are assigned to work at the camp subsequent to the six months of military training.
In this study, we tested whether the addition of fatty acid methyl esters (FAME) of edible oils would influence the herbicidal effect of the essential oils (EO) of fiber hemp and peppermint (Mentha×piperita L.) against common lambsquarters, barnyardgrass, and corn. The herbicidal properties of a 2.5% concentration of each EO in water mixtures with FAME were evaluated as sprays in a pot experiment. The oil-FAME mixtures showed phytotoxic effects against common lambsquarters and barnyardgrass expressed by a reduction in plant length and aboveground and root biomass, as measured three weeks after foliar spraying. Corn was the most tolerant species to the tested mixtures. Sunflower FAME alone was safe on corn but reduced the growth of weeds. Peppermint EO alone was the most phytotoxic on all tested species. In conclusion, the mixture of peppermint EO with oilseed rape FAME was the best treatment; however, improvement on Ch. album would be desirable for commercial-level control.