Archive for July, 2017

Transculturation in 18th Century England: Oriental Influences in Handel’s Belshazzar

Monday, July 10th, 2017

Written in 2013, for SFUHS’s Western Civilization course.

Transculturation in music is more than just novel sounds and unusual instruments. It mirrors the societal zeitgeist – the economic connections, political motivations and social influences present at any moment. Late 18th century England was a small island nation in the process of building the largest empire the world has ever known. The country served as the hub of global trade and was tangled in a web of political alliances. In other words, it was a prime location for the exchange of cultural ideas. During this period, music on the British Isles was dominated by Italian operas and English oratorios. George Friedrich Handel (1785 – 1759) is synonymous with British music of this era; a prolific, virtuoso composer, he wrote over 42 operas and 29 oratorios as well as a plethora of other smaller works.[1] One of his acclaimed works, the 1745 oratorio Belshazzar, taps in to the contemporary social and political influences and masterfully incorporates elements of Oriental culture. Composed during, what Winston Dean–a prominent Handel historian calls– “the peak of Handel’s creative life,” this oratorio masterfully taps into spirit of the time and renders a biblical story into a novel and insightful piece. [2] The transculturation apparent in Belshazzar reflects the exchange of important cultural values. It demonstrates London’s growing fascination with the Orient due to expanding economic ties. It expresses the investment and mercantile interest of the directors of The Royal Academy of Music. Finally, it reveals Occidental society’s attempt to reinforce the tenets of western culture by comparing them to negative stereotypes of the east.

Contemporary London’s fascination with the East, as reflected in Handel’s Orientalist operas (specifically Belshazzar), was the result of growing international trade and greater political interaction between the East and West. During this time, the rise of joint-stock companies led to the emergence of a strong middle class in Britain. Joint-Stock companies are organizations in which the investors’ capital is pooled in a common fund; this allows the commercial risks to be spread across multiple shareholders and limits the liability of any investor to the amount of his investment. This economic structure allowed for an explosion of commercial ventures, with the East India Trading Company as perhaps the most famous, but also including the Royal Music Academy itself. [3] The economic growth sparked by these new companies fostered a substantially greater global competition. During the 17th century, economic rivalry grew between European nations as well nations within the Orient. In the West, European competition for a monopoly of trade came to a head in 1728 with the Ostend Incident. The Imperial Ostend Company was a Flemish private trading enterprise that competed fiercely with the traditional colonial trading companies such as the East India Trading Company. In 1728, what is known as the Ostend Incident occurred; Britain exerted political pressure on the Flemish government and ultimately caused the company to be dissolved.[4] In the East, the competition was intense as well, European efficiency of the industrial system quickly reduced production costs below those of Oriental competitors. However, the cheap labor of the East negatively affected artisans of the West as well.[5] In the early 1700’s, the British parliament attempted to impose a ban of imported materials such as wool and silk, but these measures could not restore prosperity to the local workers.[6] All of these various events resulted in an England intensely curious about the East.

The interests of the directors of The Royal Academy of Music also influenced the subject of Handel’s Orientalist operas. These interests were motivated by many factors, including the possibility of economic gain, the opportunity to combine professional interest with cultural interests, elevating social status and the possibility of influencing political opinions about the East. By supporting the opera, the directors stood to gain economically, socially, and politically. Evidence suggests that many made their decisions largely on the basis of financial self-interest.[7] The directors were typically businessmen actively engaged in investment, government, and international trade (often with the East Indies) and the dramatic music of the time mirrored these interests. Several of the directors were invested in economic ventures in the Orient supplying a possible motivation for the encouragement of orientalist operas.[8] The director’s social motivations played a factor as well: being on the board of such a company, resulted in a higher social status due to its connection with the arts and culture. And political interest controlled decisions.

Though the prospectus for founding the Royal Music Academy promised financial rewards, in reality little profit was made and when the company was shut down 1728, the Royal Academy of Music was clearly a financial sinkhole. Yet during the Ostend incident, the Royal Music Academy remained open, even with extremely heavy loses, because of its ability to influence public opinion: librettos were carefully chosen to cultivate a specific image of the East and sway the Parliament’s votes. [9] Clearly, the directors of the Academy had means and motive to influence Handel’s operas and chose to exercise this power for their financial, social, and political benefit.

Handel reflects exoticism mainly through the subject matter but also with the musical elements of the oratorio. The biblical story that the oratorio is based on describes the king of Babylon, Belshazzar, enjoying sybaritic festivities while the city is laid siege to by the Persians.[10] Though the music of Belshazzar might not sound as exotic as would be expected from the subject, Handel incorporates several distinct elements that emphasize the significance of the Orient. In his letters to Charles Jennens (1700 – 1773), Handel discusses his sentiments about the oratorio saying “It is indeed a noble piece, very grand and uncommon; it has furnished me with Expressions, and has given me Opportunity to some very particular Ideas…”[11] And indeed he does include many strange, novel elements. For example, voice is used as an arbitrarily exotic device. [12]The melismatic coloratura passages (the series of short nonsensical notes) convey an ungainly and primitive effect, which contemporary listeners would associate with the subject matter. Belshazzar is a prime example of, what Ralph Lock would call, the “All the Music In Full Context” paradigm.[13] The exoticism is conveyed through the context and aided only slightly by musical cues.

The depraved Eastern Tyrants depicted in Belshazzar and in many other Orientalist operas are symbolic of societies that have rejected Occidental tenets and mores. In contrast, the oriental influences in Handel’s operas are used to convey the importance the moral ideas and constructs of Western civilization. Belshazzar is portrayed as a self-indulgent tyrant; Winston Dean described his court as a “riot of oriental color – wives, concubines, astrologers and all.”[14] Operas and dramatic oratorios such as Belshazzar reinforced the contemporary ideological system. At the time in England, the growing middle class, including entrepreneurs made possible through joint stock companies, was challenging traditional social structures. Musical works of the time strived to uphold duty, self-sacrifice, and other professed ideals. These ‘occidental’ values are contrasted in Belshazzar with the depraved values of the East. Handel emphasizes the cliché of a Middle Eastern Sultan enjoying a life of excess and pleasure through the musical elements and the lyrics of Belshazzar’s aria ”Let the deep bowl thy praise confess.” He imagines himself as a god while he drinks excessively: “Another bowl! ‘Tis gen’rous wine, Exalts the human to divine.”[15] The rising vocal scale on “Exalts…” parallels Belshazzar’s claim of rising to godhood. His opening words in this aria (“Another Bowl”) are a cry of overindulgence. [16] It is repeated four times, with each reference echoed by the oboes. These reiterating instrumental phrases allow the listener to visualize Belshazzar’s behavior: grabbing and guzzling one cup after another. Ultimately, Handel’s portrayal of Belshazzar not only reinforces oriental stereotypes but also fortifies the importance of occidental social, political and religious traditions. This negative depiction reveals how the influences of the East were used to extol English (and Western) society.

Ultimately, Handel’s Belshazzar exemplifies the social, political, and economic relationships of its time. England’s intense interest in the East is portrayed through both the subject matter and the musical variations of the piece. And beyond the superficial biblical story, Handel conveys a subtler message of Western nationalism and identity by juxtaposing the values of the stereotyped East with those of the idealized West.[17] Europe’s interest in the Orient really stems from its citizens’ desire to understand Western culture. Contemporary scholars explored this in a binary way, comparing the Orient to the Occident. Responding to the desires of his audience, Belshazzar makes clear the superiority of the civilized West over the depraved and barbaric East.

 

[1] Anthony Hicks, “Handel, George Frideric, §10: Oratorios and musical dramas,” in Oxford Music Online, accessed March 27, 2013, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/40060pg10#S40060.10.

[2] Winston Dean, Handel’s Dramatic Oratorios and Masques (London, UK: Oxford University Press, 1959), 435.

 

[3] Judith Milhous and Robert D. Hume, “New Light on Handel and the Royal Academy of Music in 1720,” Theatre Journal 35, no. 2 (May 1983): 149-152.

[4] Gerald B. Hertz, “England and the Ostend Company,” The English Historical Review 22, no. 86 (April 1907): 255-260.

[5] John E. Orchard, “Oriental Competition in World Trade,” Foreign Affairs 15, no. 4 (July 1937): 708-710.

[6] Ralph Davis, “English Foreign Trade, 1700-1774,” The Economic History Review, n.s., 15, no. 2 (1962): 286.

[7] Milhous and Hume, “New Light on Handel,” 149-167.

[8] Elizabeth Gibson, The Royal Academy of Music (1719-1728): The Institution and Its Directors (New York, London: Garland, 1889), 24-33.

[9] Ellen T. Harris, “With Eyes on the East and Ears in the West: Handel’s Orientalist Operas,” The Journal of Interdisciplinary History 36, no. 3 (2006): 423.

[10] “Handel’s Oratorios,” Handel’s Music, accessed May 5, 2013,http://www.portlandhandelsociety.org/d_works1oratorio.html.

[11] Erich H. Muller, ed., The Letters and Writings of George Frederic Handel (London, UK: Butler and Tanner, 1935), 52.

[12] Ralph P. Locke, “A Broader View of Musical Exoticism,” The Journal of Musicology 24, no. 4 (2007): 501.

[13] Locke, “A Broader View of Musical,” 478.

[14] Dean, Handel’s Dramatic Oratorios and Masques, 440.

[15] Charles Jennens, Let the Deep Bowl Thy Praise Confess

[16] Ralph P. Locke, Musical Exoticism: Images and Reflections (Cambridge, MA: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 92-93.

[17] Elissa Hope Keck, “William Walton’s Belshazzar’s Feast: Orientalism and the Continuation of the English Oratorio” (master’s thesis, University of Tennessee, 2010), 5-7.

 

Towards a Utilitarian Metamorality

Monday, July 10th, 2017

There are three major approaches that can be used to define a moral philosophy: virtue ethics, where moral good is derived through moral character; Kantian deontology where moral good is arrived at procedurally, through complex duties and rules; and utilitarianism where the consequences of actions, rather than the intent, determine what is morally good. Each of these moral philosophies has merits, yet utilitarianism appears to be the best prepared to operate as a metamorality, that is a guiding philosophy for a multi-tribal society

Utilitarianism succinctly answers two central questions that confront any potential metamorality: who deserves moral consideration and what should the common currency of morality be? Utilitarians believe in maximizing happiness, impartially. So happiness, or more specifically the overall quality of experience, is the common moral denominator across different groups. And everyone deserves moral consideration, equally. Furthermore, utilitarianism is based around consequences — the outcomes of, rather than intentions behind, specific actions are what determine whether the actions themselves are justified. This is not how most people are accustomed to thinking of morality.

For many people, morality is defined by the values of their in group or ‘tribe.’ This more traditional approach is the basis for religious morality and tribal morality more broadly. Virtue ethicists ask what a ‘good’ person would do? The moral philosophy is grounded in the idea of Aristotelian idealism: that things are good when they conform to their natural purpose. [1] The limitations of virtue ethics as a foundation for metamorality are obvious. The definition of a good person is highly dependent upon tribal modes of thinking. For Aristotle, it meant looking at role models within a society and working to emulate those who excelled. Virtue ethics is a philosophical codification of innate tribal ideals. It defines “good” in the terms of what is valued by a single group. While a philosophy of virtue ethics is good for inducing cooperation within a group, it cannot function effectively as a metamorality.

The third model for a normative metamorality comes from Emmanuel Kant. Kantian ethics is highly humanistic — and initially appears as though it would provide a solid foundation for a type of universal morality. It is predicated on respect for humanity, the innate dignity of people and individual autonomy. Kant derives these noble principles through the empiricism of pure reason. For Kant, a good person follows the “laws they give themself.” And all of these self-derived laws should follow the categorical imperative. That is be unconditional moral obligations that is binding in all circumstances; it applies to everyone so must be universalizable.[2] The core tenet of Kantian deontology is that people should not be used as means to an end. The deontological theory of ethics that Kant promotes would run into limitations as a universal metamorality. Kant arrives at his conclusions through some impressive rhetorical acrobatics. He appears to rationalize intuitive feelings about morality rather than providing the foundation for a self-consistent moral system. His theory of self-derived universal rules and duties lacks the symbolic clarity of utilitarianism.

That’s not to say that utilitarianism is perfect. There are two categories of criticism that utilitarianism faces: (1) shallow, naive criticisms based on a facile understanding of the philosophy and (2) deep criticisms that engage with the philosophy and hit upon edge cases that appear morally questionable. This paper will focus on the later category. Criticisms that fall into this category tend to be thought experiments that in which maximizing ‘happiness’ seems to lead to problematic conclusion. This paper will examine three of these thought experiments: Ursula Le Guin’s short story, “The Ones Who Walked Away From Omelas,” Robert Nozick’s “Utility Monster” and the “Repugnant Conclusions” arrived at by Derek Parfit.

In “The Ones Who Walked Away From Omelas,” noted science fiction author, Ursula Le Guin, describes the fictional almost-utopia of Omelas. It is a idyllic city where its citizens happiness is maximized: “With a clamor of bells that set the swallows soaring, the Festival of Summer came to the city Omelas, bright-towered by the sea. … Omelas sounds in my words like a city in a fairy tale, long ago and far away, once upon a time. Perhaps it would be best if you imagined it as your own fancy bids, assuming it will rise to the occasion, for certainly I cannot suit you all.”[3] However this utopia is, for reasons that are left unclear, predicated on the suffering of a single, pitiful child who remains locked up, isolated, in the darkness of a cellar. This child has done nothing to deserve this treatment; it is not a punishment. And yet if the child were to be released, the city of Omelas would be crumble within the hour.

This situation encapsulates what is, in many ways, the fundamental critique of utilitarianism: the discomfort of seeing an individual used as a means to an end. There is not justification for the child’s imprisonment, beyond the supernatural supposition that releasing the child would result in the disintegration of the utopia. Everything about this situation feels wrong. Le Guin describes in great detail the child: “It could be a boy or a girl. It looks about six, but actually is nearly ten. It is feeble-minded. Perhaps it was born defective or perhaps it has become imbecile through fear, malnutrition, and neglect. It picks its nose and occasionally fumbles vaguely with its toes or genitals… They all know it is there, all the people of Omelas.”[4]

Le Guin asks the reader to weigh the suffering of a child against utopia — and she freely puts her finger on the scale. The vivid details she includes certainly speak to her skill as a writer but perhaps not as a moral philosopher. The same moral question that her short story prompts could be stated more dryly: Is it right for the prevention of single person’s suffering to result in an increase in the suffering of many others? The framing of Omelas accentuates an emotional response to utilitarianism. By flattening the narrative of a child’s torture to a neutral, intellectual question, Le Guin’s critique loses some of its sting.

It would be fair to respond that child of Omelas might experience a degree of suffering that outweighs the happiness of all the people. If this were indeed the case, the city of Omelas would be committing an immoral action. However, it would be immoral by the tenets of utilitarianism, in addition to violating Kant’s categorical imperative.

The second deep criticism is Robert Nozick’s “Utility Monster.” This monster is a hypothetical creature that gets such gratification from eating a person that it outweighs all the enjoyment that that person will experience in their entire lives by many orders of magnitude. He writes in Anarchy, State & Utopia that “[u]tilitarian theory is embarrassed by the possibility of utility monsters who get enormously greater gains in utility from any sac­rifice of others than these others lose.”[5] According to Nozick, given these conditions, the good utilitarian would sacrifice herself to this “monster’s maw.” After all, this maximizes the total level of happiness.

This obligation feels repellant. The individual asks herself, “Why should I be forced to sacrifice my life in order to satisfy this creature?” But isn’t it possible that this is the appropriate response? People are so grounded in the primacy of their own existence that it is easy to rationalize reasons that they shouldn’t be obligated to end it. Perhaps she would mention her right to life, or her desire to not be used as a means to this creatures’ end. This feels wrong because humans have evolved to value their own existence and this monster triggers a primal desire for life.

When deconstructed, the core of Nozick’s thought experiment is the obligation of a single person sacrificing themselves in order to produce a good outcome — a better outcome than what would happen if they did not sacrifice themselves. The utility monster is one example of this phenomenon, but so is a soldier throwing himself on a grenade to spare the lives of several of his fellow comrades by shielding them from the blast. So is a starving mother giving the meager rations that she receives to her hungry child.

The utility monster triggers outrage because the situation feels unfair and greedy; in fact the thought experiment is intended to do this. The hypothetical is designed to mask the true moral question, which when rephrased sounds decidedly more reasonable.

A third criticism of utilitarianism comes from Derek Parift in the form of the repugnant conclusion that he arrives at in Reasons and Persons. He believes that the inevitable, immoral corollary of blindly maximizing happiness is that morality is reduced to a ‘mere addition’ problem. Consider two possible worlds. In the first everyone has a quality of life similar to what is experienced by those best off in our world, today. In the second, people experience a quality of life that is precisely half of what is experienced by those in the first world. However, in the second world, there are twice as many people as exist in the first, so the aggregate level of happiness is identical across both. Now add one more person to the second world. The aggregate level of happiness is now marginally higher in the second world.

Which world would be better to live in? Most people would say the former. Yet if impartially maximizing happiness is what truly matters then, according to Parfit, the second world is morally superior. This logic seems like it can lead to a bizarre supposition. Does utilitarianism really advocate for endless slums over a small utopia?

But assuming that each world is unaware of the possible existence of the other, this conclusion isn’t actually that problematic. For all we know, our civilization could be the second world in this scenario. It is easy to imagine a hypothetic alternate world with a dramatically smaller population, which is significantly happier. That doesn’t condemn our society to unhappiness — we simply don’t know what we are missing out on!

Parfit has a response to this. He envisions as world of infinite mildly content rabbits. His critique is that, according utilitarian philosophy, this hypothetical world populated solely by rabbits — and not even the happiest of rabbits, mere somewhat content rabbits — is morally superior to our contemporary society. This is an extreme scenario. And again, on an emotional level, it feels like the logic of utilitarianism resulted in a repugnant conclusion.

These critiques, for the most part, rely on hypotheticals — they are not real world situations and likely never could be. But the innate reactions people have when faced with these moral dilemmas is enlightening in it owns way. The common theme that ties these critiques together is their intention to trigger an emotional response: the defenseless, innocent child of Omelas being tortured; the greedy monster that one is obligated to satiate with the sacrifice of their own life; the mundanity of an infinite sea of rabbits replacing the vibrancy of human civilization.

Many of the traditional criticisms of utilitarianism are simply creatively phrased tradeoffs that trigger a negative emotional response. They feel wrong. Yet when the true moral question of the thought experiment is extracted from the language of the experiment itself, the moral disgust evaporates. The answers that utilitarianism provides are intellectually correct, yet difficult to reconcile with intuitive moral reactions.

When utilitarianism does run up against these uncomfortable conclusions, there are two responses. The first is accommodation: that the outcomes, while they do ultimately follow from the basic principles of utilitarianism, are morally abhorrent. In accommodating these outcomes, the utilitarian implicitly acknowledges that blindly following utilitarianism is not always good. Nonetheless, utilitarianism remains a viable philosophy because these bad outcomes stem from unrealistic situations that would not occur in the real world.

The second response to criticism of utilitarianism is reform. Not reform of the moral philosophy itself, instead reform of society’s traditional conception of morality. This response asserts that though these outcomes intuitively feel wrong, a true metamorality shouldn’t be based on biologically derived emotional responses. In other words, utilitarianism isn’t producing immoral outcomes; rather, humans are just bad at judging what is moral and what is not.

Utilitarianism is valuable as a metamorality precisely because it arrives at unintuitive conclusions. It is an intellectual mechanism that forces people out of the comfort of their traditional moral beliefs — whether those beliefs are based on Kantian deontology or Aristotelian virtue. Perhaps discomfort with utilitarian conclusions says less about the moral system itself and more about the how deeply tribal beliefs are ingrained in the way people intuitively think.

[1] https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/ethics-virtue/

[2] https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/kant-moral/

[3] Le Guin 1-2

[4] ibid 3

[5] Nozick 42

Antibiotic Resistance and the Challenges of Global Commons Problems

Monday, July 10th, 2017

There are few technologies that have had as significant an impact on the human condition as the discovery of antibiotics. In a very fundamental way, antibiotics enabled the modernization of healthcare. In the twenty years following the discovery of penicillin, dozens of other antibiotics were uncovered. However, in the last twenty years the number of new antibiotics can be counted on a single hand. If the rate of evolved resistance in bacteria stays the same while the rate of discovery of new antibiotics continues to slow, we will soon find ourselves in a world were the field of medicine is thrown back to the barbarism of the 1800s — where any simple surgery is once again life threatening. Antibiotic resistance is an example of a globalized commons problem. Unlike localized commons problems which have been discussed extensively in academic literature, globalized commons problems, ones that ones that occur in domains that lie outside of the political reach of any one nation, such as global warming and antibiotic resistance, are relatively new phenomenon.

In “Revisiting the Commons: Local Lessens, Global Challenges,” Elinor Ostrom examines the nature of common pool resources and suggests alternative institutions for their management, seeing the evolution of cooperative norms as a potential solution. Globalized commons problems are highly difficult to solve — regardless of whether through Ostrom’s proposed evolved norms or through traditional mechanisms, such as increased regulation. In this paper, I will argue that antibiotic resistance is an example of a globalized commons problem and the inability to deal with it, either through state intervention or through the evolution of norms, signals biologically derived principles of cooperation are insufficient and that new supranational organizational structures are needed in order to prevent such problems from metastasizing.

Antibiotics usage exhibits the two features Ostrom suggests characterize commons problems, (1) difficulty of exclusion and (2) subtractability, meaning the “exploitation by one user reduces resource availability for others.”[1] The difficulty of exclusion comes from antibiotics’ ubiquity. They are relied on in hospitals and for medical care more broadly, but also as a supplement in the diet of livestock. A ban on antibiotics would be highly controversial and would have far reaching consequences. Though it could be done, the institutional challenges would be unprecedented and push back would be fierce.

The question of subtractability is more interesting. Antibiotics are not a finite resource in the classic sense. The active ingredients can be synthesized relatively easily. Some knowledge of how antibiotics work is required in order to understand why they should be thought of as subtractable. Antibiotics kill bacteria by targeting specific features, such as the structure of cell walls or the cellular machinery used to build proteins or copy DNA, that differ between bacteria (prokaryotic cells) and the eukaryotic cells that make up multicellular organism like humans.[2] However, when exposed to antibiotics over an extended period of time, with a concentration that doesn’t kill the entire population outright, bacteria can evolve resistance. The bacteria that have a slight natural resistance survive and reproduce, while those that lack the adaptation perish. As a result, anytime an antibiotic is used, its overall theoretical effectiveness decreases as more exposure equates to more potential for a mutation that confers resistance to occur. Antibiotics are a naturally occurring resource that is indirectly made more scarce though human consumption. Unlike with traditional natural resources, the usage of antibiotics doesn’t tax some finite supply, however it does potentially reduce the effectiveness of the drug, globally.

The case of antibiotic resistance demonstrates the limitations of biologically derived principles of cooperation. Evolved norms tend to be more effective on smaller scales and when dealing with lower stakes. At smaller scales, the currency of trust and reputation and the pull of an in-group can serve to force individuals to act more altruistically and think on a longer time horizon, rather than optimize for short-term gains. However, when applied to a more abstract problem like antibiotic resistance, the principles of cooperation seem to incentive short-term thinking. Kin selection is a prime example, showing how what is cooperative on a small scale is actually uncooperative on a larger scale. Parents want their children to have access to antibiotics because (from an evolutionary perspective) they want to see their genes passed on and keeping their child healthy is necessary for that to happen.

Furthermore, the notion of evolved norms implicitly assumes the failure of models that didn’t effectively deal with the problem. On a localized scale, this is acceptable. However, when a failure case has potentially global impacts, even a single error is one too many. To give somewhat of a contrived example, nobody would suggest that evolved norms be applied to the safeguards of nuclear weapons, as a single evolutionary dead-end would have cataclysmic effects. As the scope of the commons problem increases, the consequences of inaction or faulty action increase as well.

Traditional regulatory solutions, that require a centralized arbiter who can allocate the resource optimally, are also insufficient. Regulatory frameworks for localized common problems are usually tied to sovereign nations. Globalized commons problems, on the other hand, are large enough that they fall outside the scope of traditional, unilateral government regulation. Unlike most localized common resource problems, a single government cannot regulate a solution here. Even if the United States severely restricted the supply of antibiotics tomorrow, developing countries like India and China could still use continue their overuse. And when resistance develops anywhere, the interconnectedness of today’s society allows the mutation to spread rapidly.

The scope of the globalized commons dwarfs the regulatory scope of any single nation and thus requires extensive cooperation between multiple nations. Such problems require novel organizational structures that operate on the supranational level. Indeed, these challenges may serve as a critical impetus for breaking through to the next level of cooperation.

[1] E. Ostrom, “Revisiting the Commons: Local Lessons, Global Challenges,” Science 284, no. 5412 (1999): 278-279, doi:10.1126/science.284.5412.278.

 

[2] “What is an Antibiotic?” What is an Antibiotic? Accessed February 17, 2017. http://learn.genetics.utah.edu/content/microbiome/antibiotics/.