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Many healthcare workers do not seek help, despite their enormous stress and greater risk for anxiety, depression and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).
This study screened for psychopathology and evaluated the efficacy of a brief, social contact-based video intervention in increasing treatment-seeking intentions among healthcare workers (trial registration: NCT04497415). We anticipated finding high rates of psychopathology and greater treatment-seeking intentions post-intervention.
Healthcare workers (n = 350) were randomised to (a) a brief video-based intervention at day 1, coupled with a booster video at day 14; (b) the video at day 1 only; or (c) a non-intervention control. In the 3 min video, a female nurse described difficulty coping with stress, her anxieties and depression, barriers to care and how therapy helped her. Assessments were conducted pre- and post-intervention and at 14- and 30-day follow-ups.
Of the 350 healthcare workers, 281 (80%) reported probable anxiety, depression and/or PTSD. Participants were principally nurses (n = 237; 68%), physicians (n = 52; 15%) and emergency medical technicians (n = 30; 9%). The brief video-based intervention yielded greater increases in treatment-seeking intentions than the control condition, particularly among participants in the repeat-video group. Exploratory analysis revealed that in both video groups, we found greater effect among nurses than non-nurses.
A brief video-based intervention increased treatment-seeking intention, possibly through identification and emotional engagement with the video protagonist. A booster video magnified that effect. This easily disseminated intervention could increase the likelihood of seeking care and offer employers a proactive approach to encourage employees to search for help if needed.
Giles Cooper, the one-time agent of Brigid Brophy, wrote in his obituary of her that ‘[h]er greatest literary disappointment, I believe, was that Michael Holroyd, not she, was approached by the Society of Authors to write George Bernard Shaw's biography’. The Society of Authors in the early 1970s wanted a biographer who had not known Shaw personally, but who had a proven ability in writing biography and who had demonstrated an interest in Shaw. This put Brophy in the front running. She had written widely about Shaw in essays and reviews, with more than passing mentions in her critical studies of Mozart, Ronald Firbank and two of Aubrey Beardsley, all involving research into a wide variety of sources – some abroad, and not all in English.
The two on Beardsley are particularly relevant. One was a critical appreciation (Black and White, 1968), and the other a biography (Beardsley and his World, 1976). Both upped the status of Beardsley, and in 1976, Kenneth Clark, the director of the National Gallery (and the boss of Brophy's husband, Michael Levey) was asked by the New York Review of Books ‘to write a piece on Beardsley to coincide with the publication of a short, useful book by Brigid Brophy in which, unfortunately, she had repressed her gift of critical insight and has concentrated on the facts of Beardsley's life’. He added later: ‘The facts of his early life have recently been collected in a scholarly manner by Brigid Brophy.’
The combination of critical insight and factual accuracy comes across in Brophy's review of the biographer Miriam Benkovitz, who had also written a study of Beardsley (and Firbank): ‘To write with complete accuracy to any set of facts is hard even for the diligent and self-critical. I think with rue of a couple of hal-finaccuracies in my own recent book on Beardsley.’ This desire for accuracy of expression was in part derived from Shaw.
Working in the public library system during the late 1970s and early 1980s was not a particularly rewarding experience. It was at best – to quote from The Pilgrim's Progress, one of the fifty works of English literature that Brigid Brophy felt the world could do without – a ‘slough of despond’. The Minister for Local Government had said ‘the party's over’. There were to be cuts in spending, and libraries, always the Cinderella service, were a prime target. Many libraries were threatened with reduced opening hours or even closure. There was talk of charging for library use, for the loan of fiction; charges for museum and gallery entrance had already been introduced.
In 1975 I joined the library service of the London Borough of Tower Hamlets. The authority had not really come to terms with the Amalgamation of London Boroughs Act of ten years before. Three East End authorities – Stepney, Bethnal Green and Limehouse – were amalgamated to become the London Borough of Tower Hamlets. They were not really hamlets, nor were they in the shadow of the Tower; and there was little evidence of cooperation. Much resentment lingered, with rivalry and personality clashes between older members of staff still wedded to their former boroughs. However, these same staff would temporarily unite against incoming staff, especially newcomers who had gained a professional library qualification.
The older staff claimed they knew from years of experience and from being local exactly what the readers wanted. ‘Libraries as supermarkets’ was the ideal. Detailed and informed discussion at book selection meetings was taken to be a farce, and the only promotion of book stock thought necessary was the prominent siting of the returned books trolley on the basis that readers just wanted to read what other readers had read. New staff took a different perspective. The borough was changing and the readership with it. The old attitude of ‘give them what they want’ was passive, not pro-active. The bulk of the issues were fiction: genre fiction, bought by the yard, and spine-labelled Romance, Crime, Western, Sci-Fi. New fiction was not encouraged, rarely bought and never promoted or circulated between libraries.
Until the past half-century, all agriculture and land management was framed by local institutions strong in social capital. But neoliberal forms of development came to undermine existing structures, thus reducing sustainability and equity. The past 20 years, though, have seen the deliberate establishment of more than 8 million new social groups across the world. This restructuring and growth of rural social capital within specific territories is leading to increased productivity of agricultural and land management systems, with particular benefits for those previously excluded. Further growth would occur with more national and regional policy support.
Late Medieval Castles is a companion to Anglo-Norman Castles (2003), a volume that brought together a series of historiographically significant articles on castles and castle-building in the period from the Norman Conquest to the early thirteenth century. The format and themes of the present collection are broadly comparable with the earlier book, but with the focus on those castles dating to the period c.1250–1500.
In the course of bringing Anglo-Norman Castles to publication the somewhat arbitrary cut-off date of c.1225 seemed unsatisfactory for a number of reasons. On a practical level, there were highly relevant articles that could not be included because the subject matter fell outside the chronological range of the volume. A more scholarly concern was the fact that a number of issues pertinent to castle-building in the eleventh and twelfth centuries could not be satisfactorily addressed without reference to subsequent developments in the thirteenth and fourteenth. Allied to this, a focus on Anglo-Norman building (no matter how justifiable in historical terms) does perhaps contribute, albeit unwittingly, to the erroneous idea that the eleventh and twelfth centuries are the most important centuries for castle-building, a time when the ‘true’ castle is to be found, and that the period that follows, particularly after 1300, is something of an anti-climax. The present volume should therefore be seen as a continuation of the broad themes discussed in the introduction to Anglo-Norman Castles, with the aim of pursuing them in a late medieval context.
In the years since 2003 there have been a number of important publications in the field of castle studies, and castles continue to be a source of controversy and to provoke debate. Despite the fact that the availability of some secondary material has been made easier through electronic access, I have been consistently reminded by academic colleagues that a compilation such as this is worthwhile, both for the student reader and those seeking a path into the specialist secondary literature. This author at least also believes that there is value in bringing together in one place a series of important contributions that have defined the subject and which also illustrate a diversity of approaches.
The castles of the late medieval period represent some of the finest medieval monuments in Britain, with an almost infinite capacity to fascinate and draw controversy. They are also a source of considerable academic debate. The contents of this volume represent key works in castle scholarship. Topics discussed include castle warfare, fortress customs, architectural design and symbolism, spatial planning and the depiction of castles in medieval romance. The contributions also serve to highlight the diversity of approaches to the medieval castle, ranging from the study of documentary and literary sources, analysis of fragmentary architectural remains and the recording of field archaeology. The result is a survey that offers an in-depth analysis of castle building from the thirteenth to the fifteenth centuries, and places castles within their broader social, architectural and political contexts.
Robert Liddiard is Professor of History, University of East Anglia.
Contributors: Nicola Coldstream, Charles Coulson, Philip Dixon, Graham Fairclough, P.A. Faulkner, John Goodall, Beryl Lott, Charles McKean, T.E. McNeill, Richard K. Morris, Michael Prestwich, Christopher Taylor, Muriel A. Whitaker.
Even when the social order appears intractable, social change is constantly unfolding all around us, finding expression in the accumulation of small acts of resistance as much as in dramatic moments of revolution. Psychologists should take interest in the dynamics of social change, whether mundane or dramatic, for at least two reasons. First, the explanation of when and why change occurs – or fails to occur –requires analysis of ordinary people's thoughts, feelings, and behaviors. To understand fully the conditions under which people act in ways that support or challenge the status quo, we simply cannot afford to overlook the role of psychological factors. Second and related, processes of social change invite us to (re)appraise the moral and political implications of psychological knowledge. How do we reduce discrimination against others? When do we recognize and challenge social inequality and when do we accept or even endorse it? How can we create more inclusive forms of identity and community? Such questions elide the traditional division between scholarship and advocacy. They require us to demonstrate how psychological knowledge helps create a more just and tolerant society. Perhaps less comfortably, they require us to recognize how our discipline may be complicit in maintaining social inequalities.
In this chapter, we discuss two psychological models of social change, namely prejudice reduction and collective action. Both models focus on the problem of improving relations between groups to reduce social inequality and discrimination. However, they propose different psychological pathways to the achievement of this goal and prioritize different core questions. As we shall see, the prejudice reduction model primarily addresses the question “How can we get individuals to like one another more?” whereas the collective action model primarily addresses the question “How can we get individuals to mobilize together to challenge inequality?”
The first section of the chapter elaborates the fundamental principles and underlying assumptions of these models. The second section explores the relationship between the two models of change, focusing on the allegation that prejudice reduction exerts counterproductive effects on collective action. The chapter's conclusion advocates a contextualist perspective on social change. We hold that any evaluation of the efficacy of psychological models of change must remain sensitive to the “stubborn particulars” (Cherry, 1995) of local conditions and the affordances and obstacles embedded there.