Religious Geopolitics of Palestinian Christianity: Palestinian Christian Zionists, Palestinian Liberation Theologists, and American Missions to Palestine

The introduction of Protestantism into the Middle East by American missionaries in the nineteenth century met with limited success while the responses and internalizations of local converts proved incredibly diverse. The two resultant theological descendants are Palestinian Christian Zionists and Palestinian Liberation Theologists. The article provides a short history of these two movements and highlights influential voices through interviews and media analysis. This article argues that hybrid religious identifications with nation and place has transcended, in some cases, political struggle for territory.

Symposium - Organisational transformation in policing: Leadership and change in extreme contexts

Nearly 4000 people died in Northern Ireland’s long running conflict, 314 of them police officers (Brewer and Magee 1991, Brewer 1996, Hennessey 1999, Guelke and Milton-Edwards 2000). The republican and loyalist ceasefires of 1994 were the first significant signal that NI society was moving beyond the ‘troubles’ and towards a normalised political environment. The Belfast (Good Friday) Agreement of 1998 cemented that movement (Hennessey 1999). Policing was a key and seemingly unresolvable element of the conflict, seen as unrepresentative and partisan. Its reform or ‘recasting’ in a new dispensation was an integral part of the conflict transformation endeavour(Ellison 2010). As one of the most controversial elements of the conflicted past, it had remained outside the Agreement and was subject to a specific commission of interest (1999), generally known as the Patten Commission. The Commission’s far reaching proposals included a change of name, badge and uniform, the introduction of 50/50 recruitment (50% Roman Catholic and 50% other), a new focus on human rights, a new district command and headquarter structure, a review of ‘Special Branch’ and covert techniques, a concern for ‘policing with the community’ and a significant voluntary severance process to make room for new recruits, unconnected with the past history of the organisation(Murphy 2013).

This paper reflects upon the first data collection phase of a long term processual study of organisational change within the Royal Ulster Constabulary / Police Service of Northern Ireland. This phase (1996-2002) covers early organisational change initiation (including the pre-change period) and implementation including the instigation of symbolic changes (name, badge, and crest) and structural changes (new HQ structure and District Command structure). It utilises internal documentation including messages from the organisations leaders, interviews with forty key informants (identified through a combination of snow-balling from referrals by initial contacts, and key interviews with significant individuals), as well as external documentation and commentary on public perceptions of the change. Using a processual lens (Langley, Smallman et al. 2013) it seeks to understand this initial change phase and its relative success in a highly politicised environment.

By engaging key individuals internally and externally, setting up a dedicated change team, adopting a non normative, non urgent, calming approach to dissent, communicating in orthodox and unorthodox ways with members, acknowledging the huge emotional strain of letting go of the organisation’s name and all it embodied, and re-emphasising the role of officers as ‘police first’, rather than ‘RUC first’, the organisations leadership remained in control of a volatile and unhappy organisational body and succeeded in moving it on through this initial phase, even while much of the political establishment lambasted them externally. Three years into this change process the organisation had a new name, a new crest, new structures, procedures and was deeply engaged in embedding the joint principles of human rights and community policing within its re-woven fabric. While significant problems remained, the new Police Service of Northern Ireland had successfully begun a long journey to full community acceptance in a post conflict context.

This case illustrates the significant challenges of leading change under political pressure, with external oversight and no space for failure(Hannah, Uhl-Bien et al. 2009). It empirically reflects the reality of change implementation as messy, disruptive and unpredictable and highlights the significance of political skill and contextual understanding to success in the early stages(Buchanan and Boddy 1992). The implications of this for change theory and the practice of change implementation are explored (Eisenhardt and Graebner 2007) and some conclusions drawn about what such an extreme case tells us about change generally and change implementation under pressure.

Parades, Flags, Carnivals and Riots: Public Space, Contestation and Transformation in Northern Ireland

This paper explores one of the defining aspects of politics and identity in Northern Ireland: the control and utilization of public space, particularly urban public space. Ethnopolitical conflict consistently reveals itself through contestation over public space. The role of ritual events is important in the development of political identity and group cohesion. The symbolic landscape will be constructed through displays of identity by dominant groups and their ability to control that landscape by inhibiting displays by other groups. This will reveal itself through frequent contests over rituals and symbols. This paper looks at the role of ritual events in civic spaces in Belfast but particularly asks what role they might play in conflict transformation. The 1998 agreement offered political structures that provided for shared power after 30 years of violent conflict. At the same time, there was an increase in contestation over public space as political groups within the previously marginalized Catholic community demanded recognition within the public sphere and a rebalancing of the public space through changes to the previously dominant Protestant and Unionist expression of identity. The paper concludes by suggesting that in “shared space” a new civic identity that spans the political and ethnic divisions has started to develop in Belfast and that this might evolve despite an increased residential division throughout the urban area.

The Dublin Lock Hospital: Medicine, Morality, Disease and Sin

Anecdotal evidence has it that when Dublin’s venereal disease hospital closed its doors for the last time in the 1950s, its administrative staff began to burn its records, starting with the most recent. This attempt to conceal the results of sexual profligacy is perhaps understandable in the rarefied climate of mid-century Catholic Ireland. However, the sense of shame attached to this institution has been pervasive. For example, of all Dublin’s major hospitals, the lock hospital remains the only one without a dedicated history. And, throughout its two centuries of existence, the ‘lock’ had often been a site of controversy and approbation.

The institution began in the eighteenth century as the most peripatetic, poor relation of the city’s voluntary hospitals, wandering indiscriminately through a series of temporary premises before finally achieving a permanent home and official recognition as a military-sponsored medical hospital in 1792. It also gained architectural extensions by both Richard and Francis Johnston and in the following decades. This new-found status and a growing re-conceptualisation of venereal disease as a legitimate medical problem rather than a matter of morality was, however, somewhat compromised by the choice of site at Townsend Street. The institution occupied a hidden part of city, appropriating the vacated home of the Hospital for Incurables, another marginalised group whose presence in the city had been viewed through the lens of superstition and fear. For the rest of its existence, the lock hospital would share this experience occupying a nebulous position between medicine and morality; disease and sin.

Using what’s left of the hospital’s records and a series of original architectural drawings, this paper discusses the presence and role of the lock hospital in the city in the eighteenth and early nineteenth century, tracking how changes in its administration and architectural form reflected wider attitudes towards disease, sexuality and gender in Georgian Dublin.

Dublin 1916: theatre of revolt

At Easter 1916, Dublin city centre was one of a series of sites throughout Ireland where a rebellion was staged against British rule. It was a strategic failure, swiftly crushed by superior British forces. The event, however, subsequently took a central role in the mythology of modern Ireland.

The first visual representations were of the conflict’s aftermath: photographic journeys through landscapes of ruin. From the distance of the camera, we see none of the pockmarks of shell bursts, nor the etchings of machine guns. Instead, traces of life in the city seem to have been swept aside by an unseen hand: the passing of millennia or a violent action of nature. Architecture alone has witnessed and recorded its presence. Amongst the fragments, the shell of the General Post Office (G.P.O.) in Sackville Street is one of the few buildings still wholly recognizable. The remnants of its classical form, portico and pediment, columns and entablature seem to transcend its prosaic modern functions and allude to something more ancient. The bewilderment of city’s inhabitants is also recorded. Dubliners have become inquisitive tourists in streets which hitherto were the locus of everyday life. They wander around aimlessly in a landscape as alien and picturesque as Pompeii. This shift in perception was captured by the Irish poet W.B. Yeats who hinted that Dublin, purged of modern commercialism had transcended its petty inadequacies to revive a slumbering heroic past.

‘I have met them at the close of day
Coming with vivid faces
From counter or desk among grey
Eighteenth-century houses [.]’
All is changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.’

His comments were prescient. Initially unpopular, the republican leaders, executed by the British, slowly became recast as heroic martyrs. Similarly, the spaces where their heroism was forged became venerated. The G.P.O. and Sackville Street, however, already had a republican history. It was originally conceived in the eighteenth century as part of a series of magnificent urban spaces to provide an arena of spectacle and self-celebration for the colonial Anglo-Irish and their vision of a Protestant republic. O’Connell/Sackville Street became the temporal, geographical and mythical hinge upon which two different versions of Irish republicanism waxed and waned. Its recasting after independence as a space of Catholic Nationalism bore testimony to its consistency in providing a backdrop for the production of ritual and myth. In the 1920s and 30s, as the nascent country, beset with economic stagnation and political tensions, turned to spectacle as a salve for it social problems, O’Connell Street and the G.P.O. provided its most sacred sites. Within the introduction of new myths, however, individual as well as national identities were created and consolidated. The emerging identity of modern Ireland became inextricably linked with that of one ambitious politician. His uses of the G.P.O. in particular revealed a perceptive understanding of the political uses of classical architecture and urban space.

Old Town Glasgow: Squalor, Agitation and City Improvements

In 1862, Glasgow Corporation initiated the first of a series of three legislative acts which would become known collectively as the City Improvements Acts. Despite having some influence on the nature of the built fabric on the expanding city as a whole, the most extensive consequences of these acts was reserved for one specific area of the city, the remnants of the medieval Old Town. As the city had expanded towards all points of the compass in a regular, grid-iron structure throughout the nineteenth century, the Old Town remained singularly as a densely wrought fabric of medieval wynds, vennels, oblique passageways and accelerated tenementalisation. Here, as the rest of the city began to assume the form of an ordered entity, visible and classifiable, one could still find and addresses such as ‘Bridgegate, No. 29, backland, stair first left, three up, right lobby, door facing’ (quoted in Pacione, 1995).

Unsurprisingly, this place, where proximity to the midden (dung-heap) was considered an enviable position, was seen by the authorities as a major health hazard and a source not only of cholera, but also of the more alarming typhoid epidemic of 1842. Accordingly, the demolitions which occurred in the backlands of the Old Town under the first of the acts, the Glasgow Police Act of 1862, were justified on health and medical grounds. But disease was not the only social problem thought to issue from this district. Reports from social reformers including Fredrick Engels suggested that the decay of the area’s physical fabric could be extended to the moral profile of its inhabitants. This was in such a state of degeneracy that there were calls for a nearby military barracks to be relocated to more salubrious climes because troops were routinely coming into contact ‘with the most dissolute and profligate portion of the population’ (Peter Clonston, Lord Provost, June 1861). Perhaps more worrying for the city fathers, however, was that the barracks’ arsenal was seen as a potential source of arms for the militant and often illegal cotton workers’ unions and organisations who inhabited the Old Town as well as the districts to the east. In fact, the Old Town and East End had been the site of numerous working class actions and riots since 1787, including a strike of 60,000 workers in 1820, 100,000 in 1838, and the so-called Bread Riots of 1848 where shouts of ‘Vive La Revolution’ were reported in the Gallowgate.

The events in Paris in 1848 precipitated Baron Hausmann’s interventions into that city. The boulevards were in turn visited by members of Glasgow Corporation and ultimately, it can be argued, provided an example for Old Town Glasgow. This paper suggests that the city improvement acts carried a similarly complex and pervasive agenda, one which embodied not only health, class conflict and sexual morality but also the more local condition of sectarianism. And, like in Paris, these were played out spatially in a extensive reconfiguration of the urban fabric of the Old Town which, through the creation of new streets and a railway yard, not only made it more amenable to large scale military manoeuvres but also, opened up the area to capitalist accumulation. By the end of the works, the medieval heritage of the Old Town had been almost completely razed, the working class and Catholic East End had, through the insertion of the railway yard, been isolated from the city centre and approximately 70,000 people had been made homeless.

Towards rational catalyst design: a general optimization framework

Rational catalyst design is one of the most fundamental goals in heterogeneous catalysis. Herein, we briefly review our previous design work, and then introduce a general optimization framework, which converts catalyst design into an optimization problem. Furthermore, an example is given using the gradient ascent method to show how this framework can be used for rational catalyst design. This framework may be applied to other design schemes.

Precarious spaces and urban change in post-conflict Belfast

The Northern Ireland conflict is shaped by an ethno-national contest between a minority Catholic/Nationalist/Republican population who broadly want to see the reunification of Ireland; and a majority Protestant/Unionist/Loyalist one, who mainly wish to maintain the sovereign connection with Britain. After nearly three decades of violence, which intensified segregation in schooling, labour markets and especially housing, a Peace Agreement was signed on Good Friday 1998. This paper is concerned with the peace process after the Agreement, not so much for the ambiguous political compromise, but for the way in which the city is constitutive of transformation and how Belfast in particular, is now embedded with a range of social instabilities and spatial contradictions. The Agreement encouraged rapid economic expansion, inward investment, especially in knowledge–intensive sectors and a short-lived optimism that markets and the neo-liberal fix would drive the post-conflict, post-industrial and post-political city. Capital would trump ethnicity and the economic uplift would bind citizens to a new expression of hope based on property speculation, tourism and global corporate investment.

Interpretations of national identity in post-conflict Northern Ireland: A comparison of different school settings

It is generally accepted that education has a significant role to play in anysociety transitioning from conflict to a more peaceful dispensation. Indeed,some have argued that the education system potentially represents the singlemost effective agent of social change with the capacity to bridge ethnicdivision in conflict affected countries. Despite the potential, educationalpolicy-makers grapple with the dilemma as to precisely how school systemscan best facilitate this agenda. This paper thus attempts to shed lightupon the dilemma by exploring pupil identity and associated intergroupattitudes across various school types in Northern Ireland. Five schools wereselected for the study with each one representing a particular sector withinthe Northern Irish education system (maintained grammar, maintainedsecondary, controlled grammar, controlled secondary, integrated). This led toa total sample size of 265 pupils. The main findings show that children acrossseparate Catholic, separate Protestant and mixed Catholic and Protestanteducational contexts construct and interpret identity differently. At thesame time, our data suggest that no one school setting has supremacy inpromoting social cohesion. The implications of these findings are discussed.