The tour de force of the Chronographia takes place in the rebel Isaak’s skene, surrounded by an army whose war-cry is an acclamation, filled internally with an army ranked concentrically like a council chamber, with Isaak on a throne, controlling everything by his sheer presence. Psellos heads an embassy to persuade him to institutionalize his power by due process, bringing the complementary resources of the Byzantine State: as a rhetor and philosopher he represents its law, traditions, and cultural capital. Together he and Isaak mount a theatre of ideal rule. It is a magnificent double performance culminating in Isaak’s secret assent. Before being formalized, however, news comes of a coup. Psellos had argued for praxis first, then theory, but Keroularios, who led the coup, has seized praxis and, by an embracing irony, the embassy in the protected space was futile. Isaak is emperor already. Though he promises to rule philosophically with Psellos’ advice, he rules alone. The reign is a bitter disappointment and, from that point, the work loses authenticity. Psellos disguises his loss of influence as success and succumbs to the pressures of imperial oversight.

Chapter 20 focuses on Lima Barreto’s 1915 masterpiece, Triste fim de Policarpo Quaresma. The novel pits the ethical ideal of Policarpo Quaresma against the widespread corruption of Brazilian society under the First Republic. It suggests that individuals tend to act with more integrity when alone than when part of a group. The story reaches a dead end when Quaresma, with his naive idealism, tries to apply his values within society. His “sad end” raises key questions about the tension between personal ethics and collective action – questions that reveal Lima Barreto’s conservative perspectives, as the chapter demonstrates. This chapter deepens the conversation on ethics and praxis by interpreting the novel through the lens of ancient Stoicism contrasted with modern Marxism. The result is an ironic effect: Lima Barreto hopes to inspire social change through literature, yet his literary hero fails to bring that change to life.

Ngũgĩ’s theatrical activism in Kamĩrĩĩthũ in the 1970s and 1980s was a kind of homecoming. His conscription into theatre activities in the village was a homecoming to his adopted home, and to an epistemological one where theatre was linked to practical and historical concerns articulated by the underprivileged subjects of his earlier writing. Writing plays in Gĩkũyũ enabled him to reach his ideal audience, the workers and peasants who could not read his works written in English. Their lives embodied the broken promises of independence, concretised in community-building. A repoliticised gitiiro dance sequence evokes the joining of hands that would deliver a second liberation. Joining the community theatre project was a kind of homecoming to the storytelling and theatrical performances of his youth. His detention for theatrical activism connected him to a long tradition of community activists who used art to advance social and political causes. In turn, Kamĩrĩĩthũ needed Ngũgĩ to thrive. The theatre of learning and its investment in praxis enabled the community to read their embodied material conditions and act upon them, thus energising the Kamĩrĩĩthũ people’s rallying cry that their sons and daughters who were inspired by anti-colonial nationalism to enter the theatre of war in the 1950s will return home in triumph over colonial and neo-colonial forces.

Contemporary analytic philosophers of religion have tended to focus attention on epistemological questions about the grounds for religious belief, or on analysing the precise cognitive content of claims about God. But there is reason to suppose that the actual practice of religion depends less on intellectual inquiries of this sort and more on a lived tradition of observance, including participation in various kinds of ritual, and public and private acts of worship. This chapter, drawing on some attitudes manifest in the poetry of Horace, examines what may have been a prevalent approach to religion in the educated Roman world, involving conformity to religious praxis, combined with an ironic or sceptical attitude to the existence of supernatural forces, or the power or influence of the gods, in human affairs. Such an attitude certainly has its counterpart in our own contemporary culture, but it is argued that such a stance inevitably creates a certain psychological dissonance in the religious practitioner. Detached orthopraxy alone cannot satisfy our deepest human needs. The chapter concludes with reflections on the intimate relation between praxis and belief in matters of religion.

This chapter explores much of the current research about the value and effect of the Arts in education and assists you to develop your own thinking about the importance of Arts education. This research is framed by an understanding of developing modes of engagement in Arts education, and a discussion of the importance of personal agency and Arts education as ‘praxis’. Finally, the notions of learning ‘in’ and ‘through’ the Arts are explored to enable you to understand the types of learning in which your students can engage.

Throughout this book, you have been challenged to look at the role the Arts play in society and in education. Various methodologies have been suggested and each specific Arts area has been broken down for you. The tools are now in place for you to organise Arts learning and teaching in your classroom. You also have reflective tools to apply to the learning and teaching you undertake. In this final chapter, we challenge you to imagine your Arts-rich classroom. What do you want the Arts to look like and how do you want your students to engage in them? These decisions will reflect your vision and rationale for teaching the Arts and your many experiences in working with the Arts as you have progressed through this book. These decisions are best made by the person who decides the ‘what’ and ‘how’ for their students every day: you.

This chapter will explore the fundamentals of drama, both as a skill and as a methodology for teaching other curricular requirements. It also offers practical activities and assessment practices, as well as theoretical underpinnings and methods to further develop teaching methodologies beyond this text. You will have the confidence and knowledge to engage learners of all ages and abilities to explore their own ideas through dramatic performance and to evaluate the performance of others. The key to drama is not only the development of skills, but also the ability to apply processes and value these processes as equal to the end product of a drama activity. The application of drama in literacy, numeracy and other areas of learning will be embedded throughout. In Australia, much of the focus on drama in the classroom is from a Western perspective.

The chapter outlines the long history of the maker’s knowledge tradition from Hippocrates to Vico. It explores five specific paradigmatic moments during which the fundamental intertwinement between making and knowing was problematised. First, it addresses the Hippocratic cogitations on the nature of knowledge as a practical and theoretical activity. Second, it engages with Plato and Aristotle’s desperate attempts to purify episteme from any practical concerns. Third, it follows the transformation of the concept of episteme in the post-Aristotelian debates on the so-called stochastic arts. Fourth, it explores how the very concept of ‘knowledge by making and doing’ is gradually concocted in the Middle Ages and Renaissance. Finally, it shows how the idea of knowing by making is gradually integrated into the epistemology of modern science and history since Giordano Bruno.

This chapter traces social medicine to Shibli Shumayyil, a medical doctor and key figure of the Nahḍa, an intellectual and cultural movement that spanned from the late nineteenth century to the outbreak of the First World War. He envisioned social medicine as a tool for social reform, diagnosing its social ills, and proposing a cure. Shumayyil and his successors rejected the colonial justification of social medicine, instead promoting social medicine as a means to free people from all kinds of oppression, ignorance, and injustice. Throughout the twentieth century until today, as poverty, authoritarianism, and social conflicts escalated in the Arab world, doctors increasingly became advocates for the marginalized, the poor, and the oppressed. The chapter examines the work of several revolutionary doctors in Tunisia, Sudan, and Egypt, who used their practice as a form of protest, praxis, and critique. Not only did these doctors embody the meaning that Guérin originally gave to social medicine but they also incorporated Shumayyil’s idea of medicine as a form of progressive clinical sociology.

In this final chapter, we would like to extend the metaphor of the ‘unseen half’ by exploring how sociological theory itself is ‘unseen’ in early childhood, primary and secondary educational contexts, at least outside of pre-service teacher education and academia itself. When stories about education settings, educational-related issues or educational research findings enter the public milieu via the media, there is rarely any explicit acknowledgement of the theoretical perspectives that might have informed the analysis of the story, issue, or ‘problem’. We propose that ignoring these theoretical influences is due less to a lack of theoretical presence and more to theory’s unfortunate relegation to the background as bland, unintelligible, irrelevant or even elitist.

This book concludes by reiterating the importance of avoiding grand narratives in research on sustainable development in international law. While each chapter revolves around its unique theme, my adoption of TWAIL helped unite these separate parts to tell a single story on Africa’s intersection with sustainable development’s legal evolution, conceptualisation, and implementation. Even so, this book is more than just writing about sustainable development or Africa as it deeply explores how international law should evolve, going forward. Finally, I end this book by drawing on TWAIL’s hopeful agenda by foreshadowing my future research interests in re-reading the law and politics of ecological crises as everyday occurrences and not as episodic events in international law.

African American teachers are in high demand in urban schools. Presupposing these spaces as operating within a matrix of domination for African Americans in the United States, in this chapter, two African American scholars of differing genders model womanist thinking as politic educational ethics and praxis. hooks, Fanon, and Lorde elucidate the Black subject’s ontological condition as a problem of spectatorship. Womanist theory responds to sociopolitical forces devaluing the self as minoritized subject. Through critical self-reflexivity that acknowledges the debilitating white normative gaze and the inner turmoil of its subjugation, womanist thinking offers a normative syntax of freedom. A womanist praxis of radical subjectivity and a pedagogy of love excavates one’s inner visions for oneself and for one’s students that engenders self-authorship.

This article discusses David Tracy’s implicit and explicit reflection on the church as a community of Christian praxis. The church is both a social and a theological reality, just like its theological partner-reality ‘the world’. This means that no concrete expression of the Christian church may pronounce itself wholly or uniquely adequate to its theological field; neither can any boundary between ‘church’ and ‘world’ be rendered theologically determinate or fundamental. So Tracy’s thinking focuses on the centre of the church, not on its boundaries. As gift and sacrament, the church participates in God’s grace as disclosed in God’s self-manifestation in Jesus Christ. In bearing witness to this event, the church’s critical and self-critical praxis of love is borne upon mystical-prophetic discourses and dialogues with otherness without and within. Ecclesiology, therefore, emerges only in fragments and not as a closed system. Tracy’s ecclesiology is everywhere a function of an account of God and reality. A Christian church that learns a Tracyean route to naming God aspires actively, contemplatively, and fragmentarily to realise itself in answering fashion as an ‘institution of love’.

This chapter explores activism as an ethical practice and in doing so discusses the relationships between social life, political action, and ethical values. Anthropologists have approached the ethics of activism through ethnographies of activist movements’ moral critiques of the present, their utopian imaginaries for the future, and the creation of new political subjects and ways of being. This chapter draws on those anthropological discussions of social movements, putting work on union activism in Argentina in dialogue with ethnographies of feminist, queer, and alter-globalization activism, as well as voluntary social action. Drawing on the experience of unionism among public sector employees in Argentina, I show how activism builds from the understanding of an essential being or character that can be cultivated as a collective ethical subject to enable action in the world to change the world (praxis). This takes considerable work on the self and selves, not all of which is fully open to reflection. I argue that by interpreting practices of organization as ethical practices, we recognize the relational aspect of politics and the importance of affective processes of collective self-cultivation alongside rational and material imperatives to engage in political struggle.

Abstract: As a product of constructed imaginations, national identity is fragile, especially in pluralistic democracies where cohesion depends on the faithful execution of an aspirational ideal, such as “the American Creed,” a statement about fairness and merit. Cohesion is difficult to build and easily fractured. When fractured, the humanities may provide the material needed to stitch together a new identity, one that emerges out of the old. Repairing fractures and maintaining a cohesive democratic identity is the work of citizens serving as custodians of democracy. But failure is always a possibility.