The inclination to withdraw himself from the public as far as possible is regarded as one of Virgil’s most salient characteristics: this at least is the impression given by the few testimonia and numerous anecdotes of his life. The guiding principle of Virgil’s life as a poet of the res publica Romana could be described as an ‘art of disappearing’, which becomes evident in different ways. By means of this Virgil sometimes succeeds in withdrawing himself spatially even from Augustus, the mightiest designer of space, and in establishing certain limits to his ‘topotactic’ power. To present the ‘withdrawing technique’ practised by Virgil, this chapter draws on information gathered from biographical texts on Virgil as well as on relevant passages of Virgil’s work, naturally without ignoring the documentary fragility of the texts considered. Nevertheless there are conspicuous correspondences between the texts about Virgil and the poetological messages within his literary works, which give an impression at least of his effective seclusion. His reception by his contemporaries and immediate successors proves his greatest success in this respect.

In this chapter Adam Hanna notes that “From the lonely farm-redoubts of John Hewitt, to the flooded demesnes imagined by Seamus Heaney to, more recently, the imperiled familial spaces that appear in the work of Sinéad Morrissey, the homes and other refuges of Northern Irish poetry have often been isolated, watchful, and precarious ones.” Apart from the threat of political violence arising from the Troubles (1968–98) in Northern Ireland, Hanna detects a complex dialogic between domestic spaces (which are immediately beholden to local pressures) and the wider environment (which is endangered by rising seas, violent storms, and overflowing rivers). Hanna deconstructs this interplay between the effects of climate change and the “discourses about both the established order of the province and the subversive energies that might undermine this order” and defines a distinctive “Northern Irish ecological poetics” in which “global anxieties and local pressures entwine.”

Christine Cusick argues in this chapter that “an ethics of environmental engagement [often] decenters a sense of nation,” revising our sense of identity honed within discourses of political modernity. She focuses on this crucial aspect of ecological dwelling, countering the rise of nationalist discourses in the twenty-first century. Irish literature, like many other postcolonial literary traditions, is in a bind here: Questions related to borders and border transgressions (central to the discourse of political modernity) need to be rethought in the present. Cusick notes that “Implicit in the question of border mapping is the familiar question about how a critical discourse might approach texts as locally embedded without denigrating global import.” The essay draws on the work of the geographer Nessa Cronin and the polymathic narratives of Tim Robinson but moves beyond them to center contemporary Irish writers.

This chapter analyzes the third mechanism for participation in working-class routines: protection. The expansion of unemployment undermined the material conditions for a number of established routines in working-class neighborhoods: Community spaces decayed, drug use became rampant, and interpersonal violence skyrocketed. Hence, wholesome habits associated with communal life (such as spending time in common spaces and sharing resources with neighbors) are perceived to be endangered. In this context of individual and collective deprivation, organizations become oases of socialization where interpersonal trust and altruism is still possible. The chapter concludes by showing how, just like reconstruction and development, protection of routines is a gendered process. It outlines this effect by describing the role of two typical shared tasks within piquetero groups: the male-dominated “security teams” in charge of self-defense; and the “milk cups”, soup kitchens for minors that are almost entirely run by women.

I start with reference to refugee journeys and how they are rarely linear but are instead ‘fragmented’ because of poor conditions in many places of ostensible refuge and states’ containment mechanisms. I highlight that there has been little consideration of the role litigation plays in refugee journeys. This is despite refugees increasingly turning to courts to seek protection, not from persecution in their home country, but from a place of ‘refuge’. While there are myriad studies of how courts interpret refugee definitions, in this first global and comparative study of protection from refuge jurisprudence, I examine how judges approach the remedy: refuge. Using feminist approaches to international law,I also consider whether these judicial approaches assist or hinder refugees’ (or particular refugees’) journeys towards a safe haven with a particular focus on gender but also intersectional factors such as youth, disability, sexuality and parenthood. I argue that when protection from refuge claims first come before decision-making bodies, judges adopt rich and robust ideas of refuge. However, most of these victories have been ephemeral. Decision-makers reverse or dilute initial successes and adopt rudimentary understandings of refuge. This trajectory transforms these judgments from refugee protection to migration management decisions.

In Chapter 8, I reflect on the patterns in the ways decision-makers approach protection from refuge claims. Across the globe, decision-makers have transitioned from sophisticated to impoverished understandings of refuge, from approaches that disrupt containment mechanisms to those that cement them and from decisions that facilitate to ones that impede refugee journeys. I consider the implications this has for refugee law, and the international protection regime more broadly. I discuss how my analysis of judicial approaches that give a rich meaning to the concept of refuge responds to scholars’ identifications of current dilemmas in refugee law. I also consider how the judicial dilution of the concept of refuge poses risks to the future directions of refugee law. In particular, I suggest that decision-makers’ dilution of the notion of refuge risks refugee law developing in an asymmetrical fashion: widening the categories of people entitled to international protection, but diminishing the protection to which they are entitled. Last, I highlight how the analysis in this book adds new dimensions to scholarly assessments of decision-makers’ understandings of gender and intersectionality. Overall, I argue that the trajectory of decision-makers’ approaches to protection from refuge claims has rendered refuge elusive.

This chapter draws an outline how scholars from myriad disciplines (including law, anthropology, political science, history, geography, international relations, philosophy, psychology and economics), UN institutions and refugees approach and understand the notion of refuge. I also highlight the discrepancies between these ideas and the reality. I ask the gender question by exploring what women are seeking when they search for refuge as well as the nature of refuge sought by children and refugees with disabilities. I show that the concept of refuge is a robust one. There are different approaches to theorising refuge, but there is a shared understanding that it has restorative, regenerative and palliative functions that address refugees’ past, present and future. Refuge operates as a response to the particular dilemmas of those in need of protection and is variously expressed as a remedy, right, duty, process and status. It has a broad and flexible scope that responds to the specific needs of women, children and refugees with disabilities. The threshold for adequate refuge is a high one, encompassing much more than mere survival. However, many people who seek protection find themselves in places where the conditions may be comparable to or worse than the places they fled.

This chapter argues that human and environmental sanctuary, operating within liberalism, is a constituent aspect of US colonialism, not an exception from it. The chapter offers a cultural genealogy of sanctuary as a justificatory logic of US settler expansion through a reading of Terry Tempest Williams’ memoir, Refuge: An Unnatural History of Family and Place (1991). Against this, the chapter turns away from the canon of white American nature writing in order to center literary and material practices of survival that do not depend on international, colonial orders of protection. Here, the chapter reads Joan Naviyuk Kane’s collections of poems, The Straits (2105) and Milk Black Carbon (2017), written in the aftermath of the King Island Diaspora, as poetic and social experiments in thinking beyond colonial state sanctioned modalities of safety, return, and kinship.

This chapter draws on research into the lives and prison experiences of around 650 male and female convicts who were released on licence (an early form of parole) from sentences of long-term imprisonment in England in the mid- to late nineteenth century. While both men and women were overwhelmingly committed to the convict system for larceny, their treatment differed significantly. The vast majority of convicts were released early on licence from their prison terms, even those committing very serious offences. However, female offenders were released slightly earlier and under different conditions than men. Having offended against their gender as well as society, more moral rehabilitation was deemed necessary for deviant women than for men, leading to requirements such as entering refuges or shelters. Female convicts’ internment in these institutions after being granted a licence reveals the impact of gender expectations on female prisoners in England.

The chapter focuses on the renewed campaign by Southerners to enforce the Fugitive Slave Act in the Free Soil Region, from which few fugitives had hitherto been recovered. The law’s passage triggered a storm of indignation across the region as communities gathered in public meetings and pronounced the law void and of no force. Nevertheless, the law emboldened slaveholders to pursue fugitives from enslavement who had taken refuge in abolitionist strongholds in the Upper North. In response, Underground activists took pains to publicize their activities and promised to protect fugitives who settled within the United States. As slave catchers ventured into the region, a series of spectacular public rescues garnered national attention. These large-scale acts of outright defiance revealed the determination of the region’s residents to defend the “free soil” of their communities by violence if necessary. Free Soil residents gathered in interracial crowds numbering in the thousands to confront slave catchers, humiliate those cooperating with the law, and punish those who performed the violence of mastery within their communities.