Between 1660 and 1775 the number of European countries with diplomatic relations with the Ottoman Empire that obtained ahdames of their own grew rapidly, but many of these newcomers did not establish networks of consulates and vice-consulates in the eastern Mediterranean. Instead, they appointed the consuls of other European nations as their vice-consuls. This did not hurt the legal privileges of the merchants from these countries. In the course of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, some nations asked the Ottoman government to renew their capitulations several times with the single aim of obtaining more privileges. This development culminated in the French capitulations of 1740, which incorporated the clauses of virtually all earlier ahdnames. In the eyes of many Ottomans, the capitulations of 1740 came to symbolise the Europeans’ ceaseless attempts to obtain more and more privileges from the Turks. But the French renewal of their capitulations in 1673 already laid the foundations for the rise of imperialism. It was then that the Ottoman authorities granted Ottoman subjects working for foreigners as interpreters or as warehousemen the same fiscal and legal status as the Westerners. It was also in 1673 that the French had their role as protectors of the Christian Holy Places in Jerusalem, as well as of all Catholic clergymen – not just Western missionaries, but all Catholic clerics – in the Levant codified in their capitulations. It was this French model that the Russians used in 1774 to claim their own protectorate over all Greek Orthodox Christians in the Ottoman realm.

Pepys kept his diary for more than nine years, covering a variety of topics that is unrivalled among seventeenth-century diarists. This chapter explores why and how he did so, drawing on recent work which has expanded our sense of early modern life-writing. Pepys turned the methods seen in religious diaries and financial recording to his own ends. His diary’s purposes developed to include assessing his social status and his health; storing useful anecdotes; and relishing illicit pleasures. To illustrate Pepys’s techniques his account of Charles II’s coronation is examined, alongside his friend John Evelyn’s account of the same event. Pepys’s diary was a dynamic text: it evolved in response to Pepys’s changing needs and was intended to act upon him, stimulating favourable change in him and for him.

The chapter articulates a political theory of secularism that can be defended against common, legitimate criticisms of existing forms of secularism. What I call minimal secularism is not vulnerable to the claim that secularism is hostile to religion, marked by an ethnocentric legacy of church-state separation, or committed to a Christian, and specifically Protestant, conception of religion. In addition, it is more structured and precise than liberal philosophies advocating state ‘neutrality’ towards the plurality of conceptions of the good life. Minimal secularism is a thin, yet attractive, transnational ideal for progressive politics.

Shelley has traditionally been associated with radical atheism and freethought. This chapter places those movements in a wider context by tracing historical definitions of religion and atheism. It suggests that Shelley’s doctrine of Love moves beyond atheism and the radical enlightenment that influenced Shelley’s early verse. The entry concludes with a discussion of the Victorian Shelley, capable of being understood as a non-doctrinal spiritual guide whatever his private opinions were. This leads to some reflections about how scholars define and analyse religion in literary texts.

The chapter discusses regulations and legal reform in medical law, in particular assisted reproductive technology (ART). A combination of Iranian state law, Shiʿi rulings, and national, medical, and clinical guidelines govern access to ART. In 2003, parliament enacted a law allowing the use of embryo donation for treating infertility in married couples. The law also implicitly recognized the permissibility of embryo-carrying and surrogacy arrangements. In comparative terms, this made Iran the most progressive country in the Muslim world regarding ART regulations and has resulted in the phenomenon of medical tourism. The chapter discusses the many ways in which Shiʿi Islamic legal rulings are mobilized to respond to medical and ethical concerns of different constituencies, illustrating the dynamism and adaptability of Shiʿi fiqh. Taking family as a legal concept, the chapter argues that Iranian family beliefs and values play a crucial role in shaping Iran’s permissive reproductive policy. Genealogical continuity and legal parenthood are central to these beliefs and values.

European history has been defined as a field by a notion of Europe – its borders, values, civilization, and nationalities – that is structured by Christianity and its secular legacies. Rather than seeking to globalize the history of Europe by considering the impact of European Christianity on other parts of the world, and how it was impacted by them, this chapter challenges that narrative. It asks how the historiography of Europe can be integrated with the historiographies of Europe’s historic non-Christian populations, namely Jews and Muslims. These are historiographies with their own rhythms, conceptual frameworks, and geographies in which Europe carries quite different connotations. They shift our attention from the north and west to the south and east, enjoining us to think differently about Europe and the diversity that has always existed within it. Separately, these historiographies speak to very different experiences. Taken together, they help us to think differently about the interface between Europe and the world and to write the history of Europe itself against the grain.

This chapter argues that scholars of sex, sexuality, and gender have begun to engage with global histories, but in a selective manner and often characterised by ideas of one-way dissemination from Europe to locations beyond its borders. It suggests some entry points for a richer, multidirectional historiography, including the movements of indigenous and colonised peoples, economies of trading sex, the regulation of reproduction, and new histories of feminisms. Non-binary forms of gender and queer sexualities are prominent within such literatures and help to complicate established narratives. The chapter also highlights historiographical contributions that diversify our histories away from ‘great power’ geopolitics and draw out the specificity of regions such as eastern and central Europe and the experiences of ‘non-aligned’ states and of non-state actors such as religious organizations and racialized historical actors.

In American culture, there is a mix and mismatch of core discourses: religious, Enlightenment, and market economy. Each claims, contributes, and competes for kinds of belonging and national definition, by abstract principles of equality, particular community of religion and nation, and possessive individualism of each one’s own self-interest. Poetry, far from being private reflection or self-referring aesthetic object, is an arena in which each of these discourses encounter each other. Widely circulated in newspapers, magazines, publicly recited, poetry took part in and also refracted, in especially intense and focal ways, the drama, questions, and terms of belonging crucial to, and conflictual in, the unfolding of America. In this chapter, I explore the intercrossing and contention between American discourses of religion, Enlightenment, and individualism in the Abolitionist poetry of Whittier, the poetry of war in Herman Melville and Emily Dickinson, and the poetry of participation in Walt Whitman. In the texts of each, vocabularies, terms, allusion, and critique of American cultural, religious, and political life form complex interchanges, at times through alignment, at times in tense and critical relationship. The poem becomes a field of confrontation, appeal, and address within the context of their writing as voices of culture take on poetic force.

The right to freedom of thought is enshrined in Article 32(1) of Kenya’s 2010 Constitution. This right aims to facilitate democratic discourse, critical thinking, and societal progress. However, despite its constitutional protection, the right remains underdeveloped statutorily, in judicial decisions, and in academic literature. Ambiguity persists in defining and qualifying violations of this right, as no court has thus far engaged in a comprehensive analysis to establish its content and scope. Instead, it has been intertwined with discussions on the scope, application, and limitations of freedoms of expression, religion, belief, and opinion, being regarded as the essential inner element necessary for the exercise of these freedoms. This chapter examines the scope of the right to freedom of thought in Kenya and the importance of recognising it as an independent right, despite its interconnectedness with the aforementioned freedoms. Ensuring this recognition allows citizens to develop their own set of ideals and belief systems without facing coercion to disclose their thoughts, punishment for holding certain thoughts, impermissible alteration of their thoughts, or a lack of an enabling environment to hold and express their thoughts. To establish this, the chapter explores the historical and legal framework of the right to freedom of thought in Kenya and examines its interplay with related constitutional rights such as freedom of expression, belief, religion, and opinion. It addresses contemporary issues, including the impact of technology, surveillance, and cancel culture on freedom of thought. Recommendations are then made on its applicability and how courts and academics can navigate the complexities surrounding its scope, content, and limitations.