Academic literature on the topic 'Fur trade – North America – Social aspects'

Historical zooarchaeologists have made significant contributions to key questions about the social, economic, and nutritional dimensions of domestic animal use in North American colonial contexts; however, techniques commonly employed in faunal analyses do not offer a means of assessing many important aspects of how animals were husbanded and traded. We apply isotopic analyses to faunal remains from archaeological sites to assess the social and economic importance of meat trade and consumption of local and foreign animal products in northeastern North America. Stable carbon and nitrogen isotope analyses of 310 cattle and pigs from 18 rural and urban archaeological sites in Upper Canada (present-day southern Ontario, Canada; ca. A.D. 1790–1890) are compared with livestock from contemporary American sources to quantify the importance of meat from different origins at rural and higher- and lower-status urban contexts. Results show significant differences between urban and rural households in the consumption of local animals and meat products acquired through long-distance trade. A striking pattern in urban contexts provides new evidence for the social significance of meat origins in historical Upper Canada and highlights the potential for isotopic approaches to reveal otherwise-hidden evidence for social and economic roles of animals in North American archaeology.

During World War II, the Allies created the United Nations and its associated international institutions to stabilize the post-war world. The Allies envisioned a coordinated world in which human rights for all were respected, economic and social progress for all promoted, and global warfare prevented. This was a phenomenally fantastic vision that seemed unattainable in the wake of the most devastating global war in history.Today, the world is witnessing some of the fruits of these mid-20th century events and aspirations, especially since the collapse of Communism in 1989. Economic integration and free trade has become much more prevalent as exemplified by astounding developments such as the European Union. And there is a greater appreciation of human rights, including the international human right to health. This article examines the evolution of trade policy and the impact of free trade policies on the health care sectors of the three countries of North America and the realization of the human right to health in North America.

SUMMARYThe early labour movements in Western Europe and North America were all dominated by urban artisans, a fact reflected most clearly at the programmatic level by the prominence of demands for producers' cooperatives. This article presents a proposal for and an extremely brief sketch of a comparative investigation of this first phase of the labour movement in England, France, Germany, and the United States. Different aspects of class formation, such as the economic situation of the trades, the social relationships within them, or the role of artisanal and corporate traditions in artisanal politics and trade-union organization, are discussed. Comparative labour history, it is argued, must employ such a theoretical framework, one that allows the integration of the many dimensions of class formation; otherwise it will have to sacrifice whatever progress the last generation of labour historians has achieved.

A major facet of the bioethics phenomenon in North America has been the emergence of a new profession on the healthcare turf: a growing number of people calling themselves or being called “bioethicists.” Bioethicists are plying their trade mainly as ethics consultants in hospital settings and as researchers and educators with university affiliations. Other more questionable affiliations can easily be imagined: Bioethicist for a controversial transplant program? For a lobby or advocacy group? For a pharmaceutical company?

This paper builds upon DeBoer's (2001) assertion that models of ancient North American cultural systems can be enriched by incorporating gambling as a dynamic and productive social practice using the case study of the Ancient Puebloan center of Chaco Canyon (ca. AD 800–1180). A review of Native North American, Pueblo, and worldwide ethnography reveals gambling's multidimensionality as a social, economic, and ceremonial technology in contrast to its recreational associations in contemporary Western society. I propose that gambling was one mechanism through which leaders in precontact North America—and, specifically, at Chaco Canyon—integrated diverse communities, facilitated trade, accumulated material wealth, perpetuated religious ideology, and established social inequality. I present evidence of gambling at Chaco Canyon in the form of 471 gaming artifacts currently held in museum collections in addition to oral traditions of descendant Native cultures that describe extensive gambling in Chacoan society.

We systematically mapped the scientific literature on the sustainability of pig production at farm-level. Sustainability was considered holistically, covering its economic, environmental, and social dimensions, each consisting of a broad range of different aspects that may contradict or reinforce each other. Literature published between January 2000 and March 2020 with a geographical focus on Europe, North America, Australia, and New Zealand was included. A standard template with predefined keywords was used to summarise aspects of each sustainability dimension covered in identified papers. We found that papers analysing environmental sustainability were more frequent than papers analysing economic or social sustainability. However, there are many different aspects within each dimension of sustainability, hampering comparisons between studies. In addition, each dimension of sustainability has many sides, making it difficult to compare different studies, and different dimensions and aspects may have complex interrelations. Our systematic literature review revealed that these interrelations are not well understood and that possible trade-offs or synergies between different aspects of sustainability dimensions remain unidentified. This systematic mapping of the current literature on farm-level sustainability in pig production can support a more informed discussion on knowledge gaps and help prioritise future research at farm-level to enhance sustainability in pig production.

With the adoption of the World Trade Organization’s (WTO) Agreement on Trade-Related Aspects of Intellectual Property Rights (henceforth, TRIPS), the WTO members agreed to provide a minimum level of Intellectual Property (IP) protections to a broad range of subjects, including “undisclosed test or other data.” However, following the entry into force of TRIPS, some WTO members (particularly, developed countries) have concluded Free Trade Agreements (FTAs) that consist of TRIPS-plus provisions, which go beyond the minimum standard established under TRIPS. One of the agreements that represent such a trajectory is the newly renegotiated agreement between the U.S, Mexico and Canada. The agreement has been negotiated, among other issues, to replace the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA). This trilateral agreement also changed the name NAFTA to the United States-Mexico-Canada (USMCA) Agreement or NAFTA 2.0. The new agreement contains rules that govern undisclosed test or other data (hereafter, test data), which biopharmaceutical companies submit to Health Regulatory Authorities for the purpose of obtaining the right to market biological medicines (hereafter, biologics). Drawing upon the aforementioned background, this article examines if and how USMCA’s test data rule contravenes the obligations of the USMCA Parties to fulfill, protect and respect the right to biologics, as contained under the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (hereafter, ICESCR) and other international human rights instruments that cover the right to health. The first section provides an overview of USMCA, the second section addresses the nature of legal protection given to test data under the TRIPS Agreement, the third section is devoted to examining the nature of obligation as contained under USMCA’s rule on test data, the fourth discusses the legal basis of the right to biologics, while the fifth section assesses if and how the rule on test data impedes the USMCA Parties from realizing the right to biologics. The last section provides a conclusion.

The impact of Salo Wittmayer Baron on the study of the history of the Jews during the Middle Ages has been enormous. This impact has, in part, been generated by Baron's voluminous writings, in particular his threevolume The Jewish Community and–even more so–his eighteen-volume Social and Religious History of the Jews. Equally decisive has been Baron's influence through his students and his students' students. Almost all researchers here in North America currently engaged in studying aspects of medieval Jewish history can surely trace their intellectual roots back to Salo Wittmayer Baron. In a real sense, many of Baron's views have become widey assumed starting points for the field, ideas which need not be proven or irgued but are simply accepted as givens. Over the next decade or decades, hese views will be carefully identified and reevaluated. At some point, a major study of Baron's legacy, including his influence on the study of medieval Jewish history, will of necessity eventuate. Such a study will have, on the one hand, its inherent intellectual fascination; at the same time, it will constitute an essential element in the next stages of the growth of the field, as it inevitably begins to make its way beyond Baron and his twentieth-century ambience.

In this critically insightful and highly readable book of political ethnogra- phy, Aisha Ahmad, a political scientist at University of Toronto, seeks to explain how and why Islamist movements continue to militarily prevail and politically succeed in forming proto-states, over clan, ethnic, and/or tribal based competitions, amidst the chaos and disorder of civil wars across the contemporary Muslim world, from Mali to Mindanao. To this end, Ahmad seeks to go beyond the usual expositions that center the explanatory power of Islamist ideologies and identities, which dominate the scholarly fields of political science, international relations, security studies as well as the global public discourse shaped by journalists, politicians, and the punditry of shouting heads everywhere. Through a deep, immersive study of power in Afghanistan and Soma- lia, Ahmad demonstrates the profoundly symbiotic relationship between Islamists and the local business class. While recognizing the interconnec- tions between violent conflict and illicit trade is nothing new, Ahmad’s explication of the economic logics of Islamist proto-states furnishes a nov- el two-stage dynamic to explain the indispensability and ubiquity of this Islamist-business alliance in conflict zones. The first is the gradual social process of conversion of the business class’ worldview and practice to align them with Islamist identity formations, which is “aimed at mitigating un- certainty and improving access to markets” (xvii). Alongside this long-term socialization is a second, short-term political-economic dynamic of rapid shift in the business class’s collective patronage of a new Islamist faction, based on the assumption that it will lower the cost of business. The for- midable alliance between business class interests and Islamist institutions brings forth the new Islamist proto-state. Chapter one of the book adum- brates this two-stage argument and offers justifications for the two case studies, namely the Taliban in Afghanistan and the Islamic Courts Union in Somalia. The second chapter unpacks the two-stage dynamic in detail. We learn that in modern civil wars across the Muslim world, business communi- ties intentionally adopt ardent Islamist identities as a practical means to- ward building trust and lowering cost. Islamist factions, aspiring toward hegemony, offer the possibility of economic relationships that transcend the ethnic boundaries which limit rival factions rooted in clan, tribal, or ethno-linguistic social formations. This leads to the second, faster conver- gence of business-Islamist interests, wherein the Islamist groups leverage their broader social identity and economic market to offer stronger secu- rity at a lower cost. This development of an economy of scale leads the local business elites to throw their financial support behind the Islamists at a critical juncture of militant competition. Once this threshold is met, Islamist factions rapidly conquer and consolidate territories from their rel- atively socially constrained rivals to form a new proto-state, like the Taliban regime and the Islamic Courts Union (ICU). When we look at the timeline of their development (the Taliban in 1994 and the ICU in 2006), we notice a similar length of gestation, about 15 years of war. This similarity may be coincidental, but the political-military threshold is the same. Both societ- ies, ravaged by civil war, reached a stalemate. At this critical juncture the positional properties of Islamist formations in the field of civil war factions gives the Islamists a decided economic (cost analysis) and social (trust building across clan/tribal identities) advantage. Chapters three to six examine each of the two processes for the se- lected sites of inquiry. Thus chapters three and five, respectively, explore the long-term Islamist identity construction within the smuggling industry in the Afghanistan-Pakistan borderland, and the Somali business elites’ gradual convergence with Islamists. In chapter four, Ahmad explores the second dynamic in the context of rising security costs during the Afghan civil war. Mullah Omar’s Taliban provided the order and security across the borderland that had previously eluded the variety of industries. This allowed the Taliban to expand on the backs of voluntary donations, rather than extortions like their rival tribal warlords, which in turn allowed them to recruit and retain more disciplined fighters (81). The source of these donations was the business class, especially those involved in the highly lucrative transit trade, which, before the rise of Taliban, paid immense op- portunity cost at the hands of rapacious local and tribal warlord fiefdoms and bandits. Instead of the multitude of checkpoints crisscrossing south- ern Afghanistan and the borderlands, the Taliban presented a simplified administration. While the rest of the world took notice of their repressive measures against women’s mobility, education, and cultural expression, the men of the bazaar appreciated the newly acquired public safety to ply their trade and the lowered cost of doing business. Chapter six, “The Price of Protection: The Rise of the Islamic Courts Union,” demonstrates a similar mutually beneficial Islamist-business relationship emerging out of the incessant clan-based militia conflicts that had especially plagued southern Somalia since the fall of the last national government in 1991. Businesspeople, whether they were tycoons or small business owners, had to pay two types of tax. First was what was owed to the local racket or warlord, and the second was to the ever-fragmenting sub-clan militias and their checkpoints on the intercity highways. Unlike their rival, the Transitional Federal Government (TGF), ICU forged their supra-clan institutional identity through a universalist legal discourse and practice rooted in Islamic law and ethics. They united the courts and their associated clan-based militias, including al-Shabaab. Ahmad demonstrates, through a synthesis of secondary literature and original political ethnogra- phy, the economic logics of ICU’s ability to overcome the threshold of ma- terial and social support needed to establish the rule of law and a far-reach- ing functioning government. If the Taliban and the ICU had solved the riddle of creating order and security to create hegemonic proto-states, then what was their downfall? Chapter seven gives us an account of the international interventions that caused the collapse of the two proto-states. In the aftermath of their de- struction, the internationally supported regimes that replaced them, de- spite immense monetary and military aid, have failed to gain the same level of legitimacy across Afghanistan and Somalia. In chapter eight, Ahmad expands the scope of analysis to North/Western Africa (Al-Qaeda in the Is- lamic Maghrib: AQIM), Middle East (Islamic State in Iraq and Syria: ISIS), and South Asia (Tahrik-i Taliban-i Pakistan: TTP). At the time of this book’s publication, these movements were not yet, as Ahmad posits, closed cases like the Taliban and the ICU. Thus, the data from this chapter’s comparative survey furnishes suggestive arguments for Ahmad’s larger thesis, namely that Islamist proto-states emerge out of a confluence of economic and security interests rather than mere ideological and identity politics. The epistemic humility of this chapter signals to this reader two lines of constructive criticism of some aspects of Ahmad’s sub- stantiation of this thesis. First, the juxtaposing of Islamist success against their clan-/tribal iden- tity-based rivals may be underestimating the element of ethnic solidarity in those very Islamists’ political success. The most glaring case is the Taliban, which in its original formation and in its post-American invasion frag- mentations, across the Durand Line, was more or less founded on a pan- or-tribal Pashtun social identity and economic compulsions relative to the other Afghan ethno-linguistic communities. How does one disaggregate the force of ethnic solidarity (even if it is only a necessary condition, rather than a cause) from economic calculus in explaining the rise of the Taliban proto-state? The second issue in this juxtaposition is that when we compare a suc- cessful Islamist movement against socially limited ethnocentric rivals, we discount the other Islamist movements that failed. Explanations for those Islamists that failed to create a proto-state along the lines of the ICU or the Taliban, such as al-Ittihad al-Islamiyya (Somalia) or Gulbuddin Hekmat- yar’s Hezb-e Islami (Afghanistan), needed to be more robustly taken into account and integrated into the substantiation of Ahmad’s thesis. Even in the section on ISIS, it would have been helpful to integrate the case of Jabhat al-Nusra’s (an al-Qaeda affiliate in Syria) inability to create a proto-state to rival ISIS. We must ask, why do some Jihadi Islamist movements prevail against each other and why do others fail? Perhaps some of these Islamist movements appear too early to scale up their operation (i.e., they precede Ahmad’s ‘critical juncture’), or they were too embroiled and too partisan in the illicit trade network to fully leverage their Islamist universalism to create the trust and bonds that are the first part of Ahmad’s two-stage dy- namic. Possible answers would need to complement Ahmad’s excellent po- litical ethnography with deeper quantitative dives to identify the statistical variations of these critical junctures: when does the cost of warlords and mafias’ domination outweigh the cost of Islamist-Jihadi movements’ social- ly repressive but economically liberating regimes? At which point in the social evolution of society during an unending civil war do identities forged by the bonds of blood give way to those imagined through bonds of faith? These two critical suggestions do not diminish Ahmad’s highly teach- able work. This book should be read by all concerned policy makers, schol- ars in the social sciences and humanities, and anyone who wants to go be- yond ‘culture talk’ historical causation by ideas and identity and uncover structuralist explanations for the rise of Jihadi Islamist success in civil wars across the Muslim world. It is especially recommended for adoption in cog- nate courses at the undergraduate level, for its combination of erudition and readability. Maheen ZamanAssistant ProfessorDepartment of HistoryAugsburg University

In this critically insightful and highly readable book of political ethnogra- phy, Aisha Ahmad, a political scientist at University of Toronto, seeks to explain how and why Islamist movements continue to militarily prevail and politically succeed in forming proto-states, over clan, ethnic, and/or tribal based competitions, amidst the chaos and disorder of civil wars across the contemporary Muslim world, from Mali to Mindanao. To this end, Ahmad seeks to go beyond the usual expositions that center the explanatory power of Islamist ideologies and identities, which dominate the scholarly fields of political science, international relations, security studies as well as the global public discourse shaped by journalists, politicians, and the punditry of shouting heads everywhere. Through a deep, immersive study of power in Afghanistan and Soma- lia, Ahmad demonstrates the profoundly symbiotic relationship between Islamists and the local business class. While recognizing the interconnec- tions between violent conflict and illicit trade is nothing new, Ahmad’s explication of the economic logics of Islamist proto-states furnishes a nov- el two-stage dynamic to explain the indispensability and ubiquity of this Islamist-business alliance in conflict zones. The first is the gradual social process of conversion of the business class’ worldview and practice to align them with Islamist identity formations, which is “aimed at mitigating un- certainty and improving access to markets” (xvii). Alongside this long-term socialization is a second, short-term political-economic dynamic of rapid shift in the business class’s collective patronage of a new Islamist faction, based on the assumption that it will lower the cost of business. The for- midable alliance between business class interests and Islamist institutions brings forth the new Islamist proto-state. Chapter one of the book adum- brates this two-stage argument and offers justifications for the two case studies, namely the Taliban in Afghanistan and the Islamic Courts Union in Somalia. The second chapter unpacks the two-stage dynamic in detail. We learn that in modern civil wars across the Muslim world, business communi- ties intentionally adopt ardent Islamist identities as a practical means to- ward building trust and lowering cost. Islamist factions, aspiring toward hegemony, offer the possibility of economic relationships that transcend the ethnic boundaries which limit rival factions rooted in clan, tribal, or ethno-linguistic social formations. This leads to the second, faster conver- gence of business-Islamist interests, wherein the Islamist groups leverage their broader social identity and economic market to offer stronger secu- rity at a lower cost. This development of an economy of scale leads the local business elites to throw their financial support behind the Islamists at a critical juncture of militant competition. Once this threshold is met, Islamist factions rapidly conquer and consolidate territories from their rel- atively socially constrained rivals to form a new proto-state, like the Taliban regime and the Islamic Courts Union (ICU). When we look at the timeline of their development (the Taliban in 1994 and the ICU in 2006), we notice a similar length of gestation, about 15 years of war. This similarity may be coincidental, but the political-military threshold is the same. Both societ- ies, ravaged by civil war, reached a stalemate. At this critical juncture the positional properties of Islamist formations in the field of civil war factions gives the Islamists a decided economic (cost analysis) and social (trust building across clan/tribal identities) advantage. Chapters three to six examine each of the two processes for the se- lected sites of inquiry. Thus chapters three and five, respectively, explore the long-term Islamist identity construction within the smuggling industry in the Afghanistan-Pakistan borderland, and the Somali business elites’ gradual convergence with Islamists. In chapter four, Ahmad explores the second dynamic in the context of rising security costs during the Afghan civil war. Mullah Omar’s Taliban provided the order and security across the borderland that had previously eluded the variety of industries. This allowed the Taliban to expand on the backs of voluntary donations, rather than extortions like their rival tribal warlords, which in turn allowed them to recruit and retain more disciplined fighters (81). The source of these donations was the business class, especially those involved in the highly lucrative transit trade, which, before the rise of Taliban, paid immense op- portunity cost at the hands of rapacious local and tribal warlord fiefdoms and bandits. Instead of the multitude of checkpoints crisscrossing south- ern Afghanistan and the borderlands, the Taliban presented a simplified administration. While the rest of the world took notice of their repressive measures against women’s mobility, education, and cultural expression, the men of the bazaar appreciated the newly acquired public safety to ply their trade and the lowered cost of doing business. Chapter six, “The Price of Protection: The Rise of the Islamic Courts Union,” demonstrates a similar mutually beneficial Islamist-business relationship emerging out of the incessant clan-based militia conflicts that had especially plagued southern Somalia since the fall of the last national government in 1991. Businesspeople, whether they were tycoons or small business owners, had to pay two types of tax. First was what was owed to the local racket or warlord, and the second was to the ever-fragmenting sub-clan militias and their checkpoints on the intercity highways. Unlike their rival, the Transitional Federal Government (TGF), ICU forged their supra-clan institutional identity through a universalist legal discourse and practice rooted in Islamic law and ethics. They united the courts and their associated clan-based militias, including al-Shabaab. Ahmad demonstrates, through a synthesis of secondary literature and original political ethnogra- phy, the economic logics of ICU’s ability to overcome the threshold of ma- terial and social support needed to establish the rule of law and a far-reach- ing functioning government. If the Taliban and the ICU had solved the riddle of creating order and security to create hegemonic proto-states, then what was their downfall? Chapter seven gives us an account of the international interventions that caused the collapse of the two proto-states. In the aftermath of their de- struction, the internationally supported regimes that replaced them, de- spite immense monetary and military aid, have failed to gain the same level of legitimacy across Afghanistan and Somalia. In chapter eight, Ahmad expands the scope of analysis to North/Western Africa (Al-Qaeda in the Is- lamic Maghrib: AQIM), Middle East (Islamic State in Iraq and Syria: ISIS), and South Asia (Tahrik-i Taliban-i Pakistan: TTP). At the time of this book’s publication, these movements were not yet, as Ahmad posits, closed cases like the Taliban and the ICU. Thus, the data from this chapter’s comparative survey furnishes suggestive arguments for Ahmad’s larger thesis, namely that Islamist proto-states emerge out of a confluence of economic and security interests rather than mere ideological and identity politics. The epistemic humility of this chapter signals to this reader two lines of constructive criticism of some aspects of Ahmad’s sub- stantiation of this thesis. First, the juxtaposing of Islamist success against their clan-/tribal iden- tity-based rivals may be underestimating the element of ethnic solidarity in those very Islamists’ political success. The most glaring case is the Taliban, which in its original formation and in its post-American invasion frag- mentations, across the Durand Line, was more or less founded on a pan- or-tribal Pashtun social identity and economic compulsions relative to the other Afghan ethno-linguistic communities. How does one disaggregate the force of ethnic solidarity (even if it is only a necessary condition, rather than a cause) from economic calculus in explaining the rise of the Taliban proto-state? The second issue in this juxtaposition is that when we compare a suc- cessful Islamist movement against socially limited ethnocentric rivals, we discount the other Islamist movements that failed. Explanations for those Islamists that failed to create a proto-state along the lines of the ICU or the Taliban, such as al-Ittihad al-Islamiyya (Somalia) or Gulbuddin Hekmat- yar’s Hezb-e Islami (Afghanistan), needed to be more robustly taken into account and integrated into the substantiation of Ahmad’s thesis. Even in the section on ISIS, it would have been helpful to integrate the case of Jabhat al-Nusra’s (an al-Qaeda affiliate in Syria) inability to create a proto-state to rival ISIS. We must ask, why do some Jihadi Islamist movements prevail against each other and why do others fail? Perhaps some of these Islamist movements appear too early to scale up their operation (i.e., they precede Ahmad’s ‘critical juncture’), or they were too embroiled and too partisan in the illicit trade network to fully leverage their Islamist universalism to create the trust and bonds that are the first part of Ahmad’s two-stage dy- namic. Possible answers would need to complement Ahmad’s excellent po- litical ethnography with deeper quantitative dives to identify the statistical variations of these critical junctures: when does the cost of warlords and mafias’ domination outweigh the cost of Islamist-Jihadi movements’ social- ly repressive but economically liberating regimes? At which point in the social evolution of society during an unending civil war do identities forged by the bonds of blood give way to those imagined through bonds of faith? These two critical suggestions do not diminish Ahmad’s highly teach- able work. This book should be read by all concerned policy makers, schol- ars in the social sciences and humanities, and anyone who wants to go be- yond ‘culture talk’ historical causation by ideas and identity and uncover structuralist explanations for the rise of Jihadi Islamist success in civil wars across the Muslim world. It is especially recommended for adoption in cog- nate courses at the undergraduate level, for its combination of erudition and readability. Maheen ZamanAssistant ProfessorDepartment of HistoryAugsburg University

This thesis examines the impact of European trade goods on some aspects of North American Indian clothing. Sources include historical archives, artefacts, and artistic representations as well as the conclusions of archaeologists and anthropologists. Part One considers the beaver fur trading background. Geographically, the area extended from the northern Atlantic seaboard, through the St. Lawrence River and Great Lakes, the northern Plains and into the Canadian Subarctic. The native population included Northeast Woodland, Plains, and Athapaskan/Subarctic peoples. European goods entered at different periods and varying rates. French and British traders depended for success upon the established trade network and the extensive goodwill of the Native American population. They found it essential to determine by trial and error and "market research" the types of goods which the experienced Indian consumers would accept in exchange for their furs. The Indians were discerning in their selection of items and made critical choices which have been under-rated or over-looked in the literature of the fur trade. In the past they were often represented as simple, passive and willing to accept any trifles which came their way. In fact, European men often adopted Indian clothing appropriately suited to the environment. They also carried popular items of Indian manufacture to trade alongside imported wares. Additionally, Indian traders expected that Euro-Americans would participate in their pre-existing reciprocal ceremonial bartering practices. Since cultural values differed widely they needed to find mutually accommodating methods for dealing with each other. Part Two, based extensively on artefactual examples examines the impact and influence of introduced trade goods, and to some extent French and British "styles" on Native American clothing manufacture of hats, coats, and shoes. Decorative materials such as cloth, blankets, ribbons, silverwork, braids, laces, and beads were adopted and ingeniously used in often unique ways. Steel needles, scissors, awls and knives came to play an important part in skin preparation. The potential of new materials was skilfully realised but elements of existing technological practise continued. It is difficult to establish a case for Indian dependency when acceptance of introduced items, contrary to Eurocentric accounts, was by no means wholesale. There was instead, a mutual inter-twining of cultures. In fact, trade goods were often used in conjunction with native materials and sometimes rejected altogether. Careful creative choices were made regarding such factors as colour, lustre, and sound. Trading was seldom a simple procedure since there were sometimes hidden nuances. Goods could fulfil expressive symbolic, magic, prestige or status functions poorly recorded and comprehended by Europeans. Paradoxically, far from becoming dependent or Europeanised, in the days of the declining fur trade, it will be evident from this thesis that Native Americans produced clothing which became flamboyantly ever more distinctive and innovative as their three hundred year period of usefulness in their own right to Europeans as fur traders ended.

The years 1815 to 1867 marked the first protracted period of peace in Nova Scotia’s colonial history. While the immediate effects of peace were nearly disastrous, these years ultimately marked a formative period for the province. By the eve of Confederation, various social, cultural, political, economic, and technological developments had enabled Nova Scotia to become a mature province with a distinct identity. One of the manifestations of this era of community formation was the emergence of a cosmopolitan-oriented music culture. Although Atlantic trade routes ensured that Nova Scotia was never isolated, the colonial progress of the pre-Confederation era reinforced and entrenched Nova Scotia’s membership within the Atlantic World. The same trade routes that brought imported goods to the province also introduced Nova Scotians to British and American culture. Immigration, importation, and developments to transportation and communication systems strengthened Nova Scotia’s connections to its cultural arbiters – and made possible the importation and naturalization of metropolitan music practices. This dissertation examines the processes of cultural exchange operating between Nova Scotia and the rest of the Atlantic World, and the resultant musical life to which they gave rise. The topic of music-making in nineteenth-century Nova Scotia has seldom been addressed, so one of the immediate aims of my research is to document an important but little-known aspect of the province’s cultural history. In doing so, I situate Nova Scotia’s musical life within a transatlantic context and provide a lens through which to view Nova Scotia’s connectivity to a vast network of culture and ideas. After establishing and contextualizing the musical practices introduced to Nova Scotia by a diverse group of musicians and entrepreneurs, I explore how this imported music culture was both a response to and an agent of the formative developments of the pre-Confederation era. I argue that, as Nova Scotia joined the Victorian march of progress, its musicians, music institutions, and music-making were among the many socio-cultural forces that helped to transform a colonial backwater into the civilized province that on 1 July 1867 joined the new nation of Canada.

Ruled from Mexico City for about a century longer than they have thus far been from Washington, New Mexico and Arizona lie in what English speakers generally term ‘the Southwest’. I follow that usage here, even though calling them the ‘Northwest’ (of first colonial New Spain and then an independent Mexico) would, for this chapter’s purposes, be more accurate, as well as emphasizing that the cultural area to which their Indigenous inhabitants belonged extended across modern Chihuahua, Coahuila, Durango, Sinaloa, and Sonora. Together with the Southern Plains, to which trade links intimately tied it before and after Spanish arrival, the Southwest constituted the cradle within which the first Horse Nations of North America took shape. I start by highlighting key aspects of the two regions’ ecologies and prehistories. Next, I look at the horse’s impact on the Southwest’s settled farming peoples, particularly the Pueblos, many of whom came under Spanish rule after 1598. Its take-up by their Athapaskan-speaking neighbours, the Apache and Navajo, gives us our first view of how more mobile societies understood and used the horse, including—in the Navajo case—the development of a distinctive pastoralist way of life. Attention then turns to the Comanche, another pivotal player in the horse’s expansion across western North America, for whom it altered not just how they secured food, but also their social organization and entire economy. Trade—especially trade in horses—was critical in this, and so I end by examining the horse’s arrival among some of the Comanches’ trade partners, the village communities of the eastern edge of the Southern Plains, an area to which Native farmers-with-horses from the American South moved, and were forced to move, in the early 1800s. The Southwest is one of the driest parts of North America (Plate 4). Its climate is also strongly seasonal, with cold winters and hot summers. Major drainages are few: the Colorado in the west and northwest, southern Arizona’s Gila, the Río Grande, which snakes south through New Mexico and then along the present Texas/Mexico border, and the rivers draining into the Gulf of California from Mexico’s rugged Sierra Madre Occidental.

This chapter presents a cultural history of the eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century building tradesman in Britain, Ireland and North America, focusing on his social identity and professional class; the textual and visual representations of the building trades in contemporary print culture; degrees of social and professional mobility; and the means by which the builder promoted and self-fashioned as an arbiter of architectural taste. Of particular importance here is how the reputations of tradesman were characterized in social and architectural discourse at a time when concerns were raised about the quality of speculatively built urban domestic architecture (in terms of aesthetics and sound construction); a discourse predicated on the emerging architectural profession and its corresponding demand for authority over all aspects of design and building. Taken together, the themes of this chapter provide the cultural backdrop for an examination of the artisan’s relationship to house design, to interior decoration, and to real estate advertising.

The Atlantic world became Britain’s main early imperial arena in the seventeenth century. Subsequent to Ireland, North America and the Caribbean were the most important zones of British settler colonialism. At the northern limits of settlement, around the Atlantic coast, the St Lawrence River, the Great Lakes and on the shores of the Hudson Bay, cod fisheries and fur-trading networks were established in competition with the French. This intrusion, while it had profound effects on the indigenous population, was comparatively constrained. Secondly, British settlements were founded in colonial New England from 1620. Expanding agrarian communities, based largely on family farms, displaced Native Americans, while the ports thrived on trade and fisheries. In the hotter zones to the south, both in the Caribbean and on the mainland, slave plantations growing tropical products became central to British expansion. Following in Spanish footsteps, coastal Virginia was occupied in 1607 and various Caribbean islands were captured from the 1620s: Barbados in 1627, and Jamaica in 1655. The Atlantic plantation system was shaped in part by environment and disease. But these forces cannot be explored in isolation from European capital and consumption, or the balance of political power between societies in Europe, Africa, and America. An increase in European consumer demand for relatively few agricultural commodities—sugar, tobacco, cotton, and to a lesser extent ginger, coffee, indigo, arrowroot, nutmeg, and lime—drove plantation production and the slave trade. The possibility of providing these largely non-essential additions for British consumption arose from a ‘constellation’ of factors ‘welded in the seventeenth century’ and surviving until the mid-nineteenth century, aided by trade protectionism. This chapter analyses some of these factors and addresses the problem of how much weight can be given to environmental explanations. Plantations concentrated capital and large numbers of people in profoundly hierarchical institutions that occupied relatively little space in the newly emerging Atlantic order. In contrast to the extractive enterprise of the fur trade, this was a frontier of agricultural production, which required little involvement from indigenous people. On some islands, such as Barbados, Spanish intrusions had already decimated the Native American population before the British arrived; there was little resistance.

Employing an indigenous-centered perspective, this chapter explores the impact of material objects recovered from houses, hearths, and camp facilities received by the Chinook (at the mouth of the Columbia River in the Pacific Northwest of North America) as gifts, purchased, used, modified, repaired and discarded. These materials come from the Middle Village (qí’qayaqilxam) component of the Station Camp/McGowan site (45PC106), a traditional summer village occupied recurrently by hunter-gatherer-fishers during the early fur-trade period (ca. A.D. 1788-1825). The manner in which new forms of capital, like glass trade beads, muskets, European and Chinese ceramics, copper and iron goods, and glass bottles, were integrated into Chinook economic and political systems is important in the study of colonialism and culture contact. Combined with ethnographic and ethnohistorical data, their use is contextualized within dramatic social and demographic changes in Chinook culture as it intersected with British and American commercial trade.

Within the framework of contractual archaeology in the UK (in which both authors largely operate) individual graves and funerary sites are regularly encountered, while they are also the object of targeted research projects. The ability to investigate a burial and to exhume human remains is a practical skill that can be taught and which may be mastered by practice. The investigation of a cemetery of any age is essentially a repetition of this basic technique, in which each grave (or indeed any feature-type containing human remains) is revealed, excavated, and the human remains recorded and lifted. Such exercises vary in scale, but the largest can address very significant numbers of bodies: one obvious example is the cemetery at Spitalfields, London, in which several thousand skeletons were exhumed. Post-excavation methods are also fairly standardized, both in terms of general archaeological reporting and the specific osteological analysis of human remains. These approaches can reasonably be said to be universal within European and North American archaeology, though inevitably with some variation in detail. As a consequence, field archaeologists are, in a technical sense, expert in dealing with the dead. Archaeologists, however, are often less familiar with the more esoteric aspects relating to the dead. Taking the British example again, the field archaeologist generally arrives at a site only after any discussion about the moral or social aspects of exhumation has been concluded. Thus, while provided with technical guidance and being aware of the wider issues involved, they are essentially there to dig. But away from such controlled circumstances, governmental frameworks for dealing with cultural heritage are either less developed or do not exist at all. Here, archaeologists can find themselves enmeshed in matters that go far beyond the technical and, not uncommonly, do so in societies where local attitudes and belief systems are very different to their own. This requires a skill-set for which ‘standard’ archaeological education and training has not necessarily equipped them. This chapter offers a narrative of one such example, which took place on the remote South Atlantic island of St Helena during 2007–8. Here, a team of experienced British field archaeologists, tasked with the excavation of a graveyard of considerable size and international significance, came to deal with the dead— and the living—on a number of fundamental levels that extended far beyond the project brief.