Zeitschriftenartikel zum Thema „Eritrea – History – Autonomy and independence movements“

Abstract Abstract The post-independence government of Eritrea introduced Proclamation 86/1996 to redraw the administrative structure of the newly independent territory. The principle behind the redrawing was pronounced to be to serve decentralised governance system where considerable power is devolved to the regions. According to this principle the regions were provided with legislative, executive and judiciary bodies of local governance. Further the regions were also to be divided into sub-regions and village/area units with provisions of legislative, executive and judiciary organs that would enhance the local governing system where the local communities are provided both legally and practically the autonomy to run their political, economic, social and cultural life with less central interference. In practice however the governance system that was introduced following independence proved to be highly centralised. This became glaringly obvious following the outbreak of the second war (1998-2000) between Eritrea and Ethiopia. The paper critically re-examines local governance in Eritrea. It examines the various stages of redrawing of the regions over the historical trajectory of the making of Eritrea until the redrawing following independence. It examines the corresponding power structures and local governance systems. It also examines the modality of the redrawing and the political intentionality behind it. Through text interpretation and analysis the paper examines the connection between local governance and decentralisation. The paper draws the conclusion that the legal mechanism put in place and the discretionary power arrangement between the executive and legislative bodies could not provide ample space for local governance.

The end of the First World War was a crucial time for nationalist leaders and minority communities across the European continent and beyond. The impact of the post-war spread of self-determination on the redrawing of Eastern European borders and on the claims of colonial independence movements has been extensively researched. By contrast, the international historiography has paid little attention to minority nationalist movements in Western Europe. This article focuses on three regions (Catalonia, Flanders and South Tyrol) that experienced considerable sub-state national mobilization in the interwar period. We aim to understand whether the leaders of Western European minorities and stateless nations shared the same enthusiasm as their anti-colonial and Eastern European counterparts for the new international order that self-determination seemed to foreshadow in the months following the end of the First World War. Because the American President Woodrow Wilson stood out as the most prominent purveyor of the new international legitimacy of self-determination, the article further examines how Western European nationalist movements exploited Wilson's image and advocacy to achieve their own goals. Nationalist forces in Catalonia, Flanders and South Tyrol initially mobilized self-determination and referred to Wilson as a symbol of national liberation, but this instrumentalization of self-determination was not sustained. Large-scale mobilization occurred only in Catalonia, and, even there, it disappeared suddenly in spring 1919. Furthermore, sub-state nationalist movements in Western Europe tended to mobilize self-determination to gain regional autonomy, rather than full independence, thus pursuing internal, not external, self-determination. The willingness of these movements to privilege autonomy over full independence made them more receptive to compromise. Radical forces would become stronger only in the 1930s and largely for reasons not directly connected to the post-war mobilization around self-determination.

State responsiveness to pressures from women's movements in Africa has been limited. However, where inroads have been made, associational autonomy from the state and dominant party has proved critical. The women's movement is one of the most coordinated and active social movements in Uganda, and one of the most effective women's movements in Africa more generally. An important part of its success comes from the fact that it is relatively autonomous, unlike women's movements in earlier periods of Uganda's post-independence history. The women's movement, in spite of enormous pressures for cooptation, has taken advantage of the political space afforded by the semi-authoritarian Museveni government, which has promoted women's leadership to serve its own ends. Leaders and organisations reflect varying degrees of autonomy and cooptation. Nevertheless the women's movement has had a visible impact on policy as a result of its capacity to set its own far-reaching agenda and freely select its own leaders.

This paper explores the idea that poor governance explains the rise of separatist nationalism in situations such as Zambia, Eritrea, Sudan and Somalia (in Africa) that had previously been independently governed during the colonial times, but later joined other states at independence to enjoy normal politics, but later degenerated into violent separatist nationalism. Our argument is that centralisation of power in an environment in which cultural groups are calling for regional autonomy, for even development, and for the international community to intervene on the side of peace, create grounds that explain the rise of violent separatist movements. The Barotseland Protectorate negotiated for autonomous development and, after securing constitutional guarantees in its favour, voluntarily joined Zambia in what was expected to be a one nation, two states system. After four decades of resisting constitutional amendments in favour of the centralisation of power, the Barotse of Zambia abandoned the politics of autonomous development and started calling for a separate state. Their resolve to remain peaceful is not aided by the international community that is reluctant to intervene, exposing the political process to radicals who consider violence as an alternative. The paper argues that violent separatist politics is preventable.

AbstractIn late 1909, the liberal Russian newspaperBirzhevye Vedomostiexpressed the fear that Finland could become ‘Russia’s Ireland’. The implication was that by restricting the autonomy that Finland had enjoyed within the Russian Empire for much of the preceding century, Russian nationalists risked creating a chaotic, discontented eastern province, dangerously close to the imperial capital. The ‘Russia’s Ireland’ motif became so prominent in the following eight years – before Finnish independence in 1917 – as to become an international cliché. The discourse of imperial subjugation that existed in both Ireland and Finland in the first decade of the twentieth century has rather obscured the fact that, despite obvious superficial parallels, the nineteenth-century experiences of these nations differed considerably. Both Finland and Ireland were part of larger imperial systems in the nineteenth century, and national movements emerged in both countries that sought to develop political, economic and cultural autonomy. Finland became a sporadic model for diverse Irish national aspirations, but the analogy was rejected consistently, and often vigorously, by Finns in the nineteenth century. This article charts the development of the Finnish–Irish constitutional analogy from the middle of the nineteenth century to the eve of both nations’ independence. It demonstrates that despite the similarities in overall historical timelines, contemporaries perceived differences between the two cases.

With the collapse of the Soviet Union and the subsequent independence of Latvia, a minority group became a majority and a majority group became a minority. This has been the situation for Latvians and Russians after August 1991. The Baltic States led the way towards first autonomy and then independence. The nationalist movement in the Latvian SSR was primarily a minority nationalist movement. Why do minorities mobilise? Gurr finds that minorities rebel for two reasons: relative deprivation and group mobilisation. Relative deprivation answers the question of why and it characterizes the status of the Latvian language and culture vis-à-vis that of Russia during the Soviet period. While relative deprivation has come under considerable criticism because of its inability to explain when a group will mobilise, the notion can be found in the nationalist rhetoric before and since the restoration of Latvian independence. Group mobilisation goes further in explaining when minorities may assert political claims. Considered in terms of changes in the political opportunity structure, the changing politics of glasnost allowed the nationalist movements to mobilise in the Baltic States.

Abstract This essay offers an intellectual history of the armed mobilizations that traversed the highlands and valleys of the Dominican Republic's southern borderlands during the last decades of the nineteenth century, finding at their very heart a spiritually grounded defense of autonomy within an embattled geography of community and freedom. The residents of these highlands and the San Juan Valley mounted repeated guerrilla movements against the island's two capitals in service of defending the whole island's independence; unlike borderlands struggles elsewhere, residents forged these campaigns long before any capital transformations encroached on their own territory. The essay analyzes the spiritual, political, and geographic logic of self-rule that these individuals invoked and also, critically, the gendered cost of violence that these campaigns fostered. The success of these anticolonial struggles highlights the profound fugitive history of the center island, just as it rewrites narratives of exclusivist Dominican nationalism in the present day.

The study synthesizes the most important events and transformations that marked Moldovan society in 1989 and its future developments. The study’s primary aim is to highlight the most important events from 1989 that led the Moldovan society towards obtaining the sovereignty and independence of the Republic of Moldova. At the same time, the study also shows the current knowledge of the 1989 developments to draw new research perspectives. Thus, in chronological order, the most critical social, cultural, and political events that have had long-term effects on Moldovan society are reviewed. The article analyzes the national emancipation movement’s emergence, activity, and counter-movements to maintain the Soviet regime. The 1989 events in the Moldavian SSR resulted from Gorbachev’s reforms (glasnost, perestroika) and the “revolutions” in the socialist states that succeeded in bringing down the communist regimes. Starting with cultural demands and rights (the language and alphabet), people had reached economic and political demands (economic autonomy, sovereignty, independence). The emergence of alternative political forces to the Communist Party, their official registration, the legalization of their meetings, and public manifestations led to the consolidation of the critical mass opposed to the Communist regime. Changing the language legislation, returning to the Latin alphabet, and condemning the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact are just some of the successes of 1989 that impacted the following years, resulting, eventually, in the Declaration of Sovereignty of 1990 and the Declaration of Independence of 1991.

After World War II, Great Britain's loss of power in the international system had a great impact on the start of the decolonization process (the beginning of the independence movements in colonial geographies and the acquisition of peoples' independence) and expansion of it. India, one of the most important colonies of the British Empire which is known as the empire on which the sun never sets, was also the most important representative and perhaps even the trigger of this process. The Republic of India (hereafter referred to as India) which gained independence from Britain in 1947, also witnessed the birth of another state from its territory. The newly established state of the Islamic Republic of Pakistan (hereinafter referred to as Pakistan) has maintained a high-tension relationship with India since the foundation. The main cause of this tension has been the dispute over the Jammu and Kashmir region. The controversial region has again become a conflictual geography with the decision of the Indian Parliament on the 5th of August 2019. By this, the autonomous status of the J&K was abolished and Pakistan and India came to the edge of confrontation. The measures and precautions of the Indian government regarding the region has increased the tension not only in J&K but also in India and in Pakistan. This study tries to analyze the Kashmir dispute in line with the recent developments and how the issue effects the regional political dynamics. In the first part of the paper; there will be a short history of the dispute, the claims of the parties, and the place of this dispute in the international system. In the second part, the current situation will be tried to investigate from the foreign policy and regional policies aspect. The general conclusion of the author is that the recent decision on autonomy of Kashmir will have cumulative negative impacts on the stability of the region in coming years.

The main subject of this article is the presentation of the historical backgrounds of the contemporary conflicts over the Mountainous Karabagh, South Ossetia and Abkhazia. The author describes the history of these regions from the beginning of the 19th century till 1992. The conquest of the South Caucasus by Imperial Russia in the 19th century resulted in the immigrations of Armenians to the Mountainous Karabagh, Ossetians to South Ossetia and Georgians to Abkhazia. These immigrations completely changed the ethnic compositions of these region. The Russian authorities supported the immigrations of pro-Russian Armenians and Ossetians.The political situation in these regions changed in 1918, when the independence of Georgia, Armenia and Azerbaijan was declared. South Ossetia and Abkhazia were parts of independent Georgia, and the Mountainous Karabagh was dependent on Azerbaijan. Ossetians and Abkhazians resisted the Georgian authorities and Karabagh Armenians fought against Azerbaijan’s rule.After the conquest of the South Caucasus by Soviet Russia in 1920-1921, the Mountainous Karabagh remained part of Soviet Azerbaijan, and South Ossetia and Abkhazia remained part of Soviet Georgia. The Autonomous Oblast of Nagorno-Karabagh was created in the Mountainous Karabagh in 1923. The authorities of the Mountainous Karabagh were dominated by Karabagh Armenians and this region was practically independent of Soviet Azerbaijan. A similar situation was in South Ossetia and Abkhazia, especially after 1956.The development of Abkhazian and Ossetian national movements at the end of the 1980s led to the situation in which Abkhazians and South Ossetians claimed the political autonomy of Abkhazia and South Ossetia in Georgia, and then the independence of these regions. The Georgian authorities were against these claims, as they considered these regions to constitute the historical parts of Georgia. The political hostility between Georgia and South Ossetia resulted in South Ossetian-Georgian armed fighting in January 1991, and South Ossetia proclaimed its independence in November 1991. Moreover, the political conflict between the Georgian government and the Abkhazian authorities in the first half of 1992 turned into open war in August 1992.Karabagh Armenians claimed the incorporation of the Mountainous Karabagh into Soviet Armenia because of historical, ethnic, cultural and regional connections between the Mountainous Karabagh and Armenia. These claims were very strong from the end of 1980s, but Azerbaijan’s communist authorities and the Azerbaijan anti-communist movement wanted to retain the Karabagh region in Azerbaijan. The hostility between the local Armenian and Azerbaijan population of the Mountainous Karabagh turned into armed fighting in 1989. The Mountainous Karabagh proclaimed its independence in December 1991.

Separatism has long been present in Western Europe as a political and social phenomenon. In the 21st century, it is the most manifest in the most affluent and successful countries in the European Union, including the United Kingdom, Spain, Italy, Germany, and Belgium. The paradox of this phenomenon is that the political aspect of the issue, which represents the confrontation between the newly emerged elite of «disobedient territories» and the central authorities, is closely intertwined with the economic factor of regional inequality, which has historically been present in those countries. The objective of the article is, therefore, to elucidate the economic factor in the separatist sentiments in the countries of Old Europe and the role of regional political elites in the formation of separatist sentiments. The methodology used in the course of research includes a number of scientific methods. The historical method helped reveal the features of separatist sentiments in specific EU countries and the internal and external factors that have transformed these sentiments into a commonplace public stance. The comparative method allowed clarifying the peculiarities of separatist movements in particular countries and the intentions of the political discourse in the political and legal field which they produce in order to support the view that secession is more beneficial to all than remaining within the ineffective state system. Finally, the dialectical method made it possible to identify political contradictions between governments and regions within their common history with delicate and contestable moments that secessionists seek to use in their struggle for independence. The manifestation of separatism and secessionist policies by opposition forces has been analysed in Spain, Germany, and the United Kingdom. It is noted that in the United Kingdom, where the rich province of Britain seeks to keep its political influence over the poorer provinces, separatist sentiments in Catalonia (Spain), Bavaria (Germany), South Tyrol (Italy), in Flanders and Wallonia (Belgium) are more akin to whims of human rationality, seeking for even more material possessions for already economically successful provinces with broad autonomy. Based upon the analysis conducted, the following findings have been arrived at. First, European separatism is not a one-dimensional phenomenon and includes economic as well as political, ethnic and national motives. Second, European separatism varies from country to country: in the UK, it is categorical for long-term purposes and historically caused by the negative effects of colonization policies by the British in other provinces; in Spain, it is nationally and culturally specific, based on identity and history; and in Germany, it is «soft» in form and restrained in manifestation, with autonomy and federalization not destroying the state.

Separatism has long been present in Western Europe as a political and social phenomenon. In the 21st century, it is the most manifest in the most affluent and successful countries in the European Union, including the United Kingdom, Spain, Italy, Germany, and Belgium. The paradox of this phenomenon is that the political aspect of the issue, which represents the confrontation between the newly emerged elite of «disobedient territories» and the central authorities, is closely intertwined with the economic factor of regional inequality, which has historically been present in those countries. The objective of the article is, therefore, to elucidate the economic factor in the separatist sentiments in the countries of Old Europe and the role of regional political elites in the formation of separatist sentiments. The methodology used in the course of research includes a number of scientific methods. The historical method helped reveal the features of separatist sentiments in specific EU countries and the internal and external factors that have transformed these sentiments into a commonplace public stance. The comparative method allowed clarifying the peculiarities of separatist movements in particular countries and the intentions of the political discourse in the political and legal field which they produce in order to support the view that secession is more beneficial to all than remaining within the ineffective state system. Finally, the dialectical method made it possible to identify political contradictions between governments and regions within their common history with delicate and contestable moments that secessionists seek to use in their struggle for independence. The manifestation of separatism and secessionist policies by opposition forces has been analysed in Spain, Germany, and the United Kingdom. It is noted that in the United Kingdom, where the rich province of Britain seeks to keep its political influence over the poorer provinces, separatist sentiments in Catalonia (Spain), Bavaria (Germany), South Tyrol (Italy), in Flanders and Wallonia (Belgium) are more akin to whims of human rationality, seeking for even more material possessions for already economically successful provinces with broad autonomy. Based upon the analysis conducted, the following findings have been arrived at. First, European separatism is not a one-dimensional phenomenon and includes economic as well as political, ethnic and national motives. Second, European separatism varies from country to country: in the UK, it is categorical for long-term purposes and historically caused by the negative effects of colonization policies by the British in other provinces; in Spain, it is nationally and culturally specific, based on identity and history; and in Germany, it is «soft» in form and restrained in manifestation, with autonomy and federalization not destroying the state.

Background. At the beginning of the 1920’s, after establishing the borders of the restored Polish State, its eastern territories were dominated by the Ukrainian, Belarusian and Lithuanian populations, and in the western part, a significant percentage were Germans. Accordingly, the state faced the problem of developing a constructive policy towards national minorities. Purpose. The article analyzes the attitude of the Polish intellectual elite to the prob-lem of national minorities, whose opinions were partially reflected in a poll conducted in July and August 1924 by the liberal Warsaw newspaper “Kurjer Polski”. The discussion intensified, in particular, due to the expiration of the government’s commitment to give Eastern Galicia autonomy, the preparation of a government law on education (known as Lex Grabski). Results. The opening of a Ukrainian university was a part of the problem. At the request of the government, the academic community of the Jagiellonian University expressed its views in June, which generally welcomed the idea of opening a separate Ukrainian university in Lviv, Warsaw or Krakow. “Kurjer Polski” published reflections of intellectuals representing different regions of the country and political currents: socialists (A. Śliwiński – Warsaw), nationalists (S. Bukowiecki – Vilno), conservatives (Fr. Bossowsky, T. Dembowsky – Vilno; E. Hauswald – Lviv ). The basis for solving the problem at that time, most authors called the provisions of the March 1921 Constitution on the main democratic rights of citizens, unanimously called for creating opportunities for cultural and national development of national minorities, hoping for the consolidation of the state. It was emphasized the need to take into account the individual characteristics of each minority and regional specifics. In particular, E. Hauswald considered the experience of the Austro-Hungarian monarchy of the early twentieth century as an example of solving the problem (Moravian Compensation 1905 and The Bukovinian Compromise 1910). Quite controversial about the essence of Belarusian (Belarusians are not a nation that encompasses all segments of society, but only the mass of the peasantry is devoid of any political ambitions; Belarusian language is a set of dialects that makes a gradual transition from Russian to Polish; literary Belarusian lan-guage is artificially created, the population does not understand it) and Ukrainian (did not deny the existence of political ambitions, but emphasized the significant differences in Volhynia and Eastern Galicia and dependence on external support) national movements were the reflections of Fr. Bossovsky, who, however, supported the idea of granting national minorities freedom of cultural development. Lviv lawyer J. Makarewicz (representative of the Christian Democrats) called for a policy of state assimilation towards Ukrainians and Belarusians, tactics of “state indifference” towards Jews, Russians and Germans. However, despite the existence of such ideas in the Polish intellectual environment, government circles have chosen the concept of a unitary mono-national state. As early as July 1924, a law on education was passed, many articles of which were aimed at discriminating against national minorities. And further changes in the political life of the country only exacerbated the problem, which was not solved throughout the interwar period. Keywords: Fr. Bossowski, S. Bukowiecki, T. Dembowski, interwar Poland, E. Hauswald, Kurjer Polski, J. Makarewicz, national question, A. Śliwiński. A never-extinguishing volcano, 1924. Kurjer Polski, May 31, р.2. (In Polish) Announcement of the National Electoral Commission on November 24, 1930, s. 1. 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Abstract Since its inception, Pakistan has faced challenges of ethnic-nationalism from her ethnicities. State efforts to mold these diverse identities into one communal Muslim identity have been continually resisted by the different nationalities comprising Pakistan. The demands of ethno-national movements have fluctuated between independence and autonomy, depending upon the relation between the state and the respective ethnic group. Sometimes the demand for autonomy has expanded into a desire for independence, as was the case with Bengali ethnic nationalism. At other times, the desire for independence has shrunk to a demand for autonomy, as manifested by Pashtun nationalism. This shift is explicated through the relationship between the state and ethnic groups. The author analyzes this shift through the prism of Paul Brass’s instrumental theory of elite competition. The factors that contributed to the success of Bengali nationalism in achieving statehood and the failure of Baloch nationalism to do so are viewed through Ted Gurr’s concept of relative deprivation. The integration of Sindhi and Pashtun ethnic groups into the state structure is explained via Andreas Wimmer’s notion of ownership of the state.

Abstract For three European states in particular, the Covid-19 pandemic has served to catalyze pre-existing territorial disputes. While the United Kingdom, Spain, and Belgium have all had very different responses to the pandemic, in all three cases the actions of central and regional government have put existing structures of regional autonomy under strain. In Spain, the pandemic response has become intertwined with the Catalan independence debate (especially in disputes between pro-independence parties), and elsewhere in the country it has cemented co-operative relationships between moderate nationalists and the statewide left. In Belgium, the pandemic has accentuated territorial disputes and further complicated government formation. And in the UK diverging responses to the pandemic have helped boost nationalist movements in the devolved nations; particularly the cause of the Scottish National Party (SNP) and their ambitions to create an independent Scottish state. While the year has been highly significant for secessionist movements in all three states, only in the UK does a decisive shift towards state-breakup seem to have occurred. The article argues that whether or not a secessionist movement benefits from the pandemic is highly contingent on contextual factors, including the performance of state-level governments in responding to the pandemic and the relative autonomy of regional governments during the response.

This paper critiques the structure and functionality of the 21st century nation-state through analysis of emancipatory decisions in the former Dutch Caribbean colonies of Aruba, Curaçao, and Suriname.Suriname, the most culturally Dutch of the Caribbean territories, was the first of the former colonies to secede from the Netherlands. Although Suriname achieved independence in 1975, the economy remained heavily reliant on the policies of the United States. As such, the Surinamese government prioritized the interests of NATO and struggled to reconfigure its preexisting relationship with the suzerain. This dynamic strained Surinamese relation with Latin American nations more actively resisting US imperialism and isolated Suriname politically.Aruba became a constituent country in 1986; however, this shift was not contemporaneously reflected in Curaçao. Curaçao had headed the former Colony of Curaçao and Dependencies, and independence would have weakened its influence on the other islands whose governing structure would have remained unchanged. While Aruba had the opportunity to claim equal status with Curaçao, it instead pursued emancipation. Demographically Mestizo unlike neighboring islands, Aruba was eager to distinguish itself from Curaçao, where advocacy for decolonization arose with support from regional Black Power movements. Aruba and Curaçao had a long history of human exchange with Latin American continent from the pre-Columbian period. The inhabitants, especially those of African descent excluded from citizenship on the basis of race, moved to Spanish colonies where citizenship was granted upon conversion to Roman Catholicism. The people could use religion to obtain citizenship. They had no loyalty to the European empire nor a sense of belonging to any European kingdom. What they wanted was citizenship and human rights.Around the time Suriname declared independence, European governments began to promote neo-liberal policies that advanced smaller or limited government function. The former Dutch empire was itself abandoning its role as sovereign of a nation-state. Aruba, which had witnessed Suriname’s predicament post-independence and where sense of belonging within the nation-state was historically weak, finally elected to retain within the Dutch Kingdom. To become an independent nation would have entailed severing preexisting ties with Europe and rendered the territory more vulnerable, since globalization often facilitates interference from supranational institutions and military alliances such as the EU and NATO. The trajectory of Aruba prompts questions regarding the true definition and function of the 21st century nation-state.Today, even independent nations comply with international regulations and belong to multinational free trade spheres and military alliances. Due to Dutch disinterest, Aruba and Curaçao enjoyed a greater degree of autonomy. Thus, dependent territories such as Aruba that are capable of maintaining intercontinental and supranational affiliations do not immediately necessitate full independence

This paper examines how the women’s movement in Uganda will lead to political empowerment of women. This paper investigates the role played by women in political sphere in Uganda. This paper will also focus on the struggle of women and women’s movement in politics, which has traditionally been considered as the men’s sphere. Moreover, it also investigates the conditions of women in Uganda from pre-colonial to post independence period and changes in the conditions within that time period based on the availability of secondary data. This research is done to throw light on the origin and role of women’s movement in Uganda and its achievements in terms of political empowerment of women. Available literature is insufficient to explain that whether it is due to the pressure of women’s movement that Museveni had to give space to women in politics or there were other reasons too. Using the data collected from various sources such as articles, books, Government of Uganda reports, it will find that women’s movement leads to empowerment of women in political sphere to the extent that Uganda’s quota design has set an inspiring model for other quota adopter countries in the region. In the central and eastern Africa region alone, Sudan, Burundi, South Sudan, Eritrea, Kenya, Djibouti, Zimbabwe, and Somalia have followed Uganda’s quota adoption in 1989 and reserved seat quotas were introduced in their majoritarian parliaments (Clayton, Josefsson & Wang: 2016). Hence, it was an early quota adopter country. This research would encourage the women’s movements in economic and social sphere. Because it is evident from this study that if oppressed people are aware about their rights and if they are able to organize themselves in a group to put pressure on the government for their rights then they can achieve it.

During the post-War period, British Methodist commentators have sought to portray their denomination in a favourable light by highlighting the manner in which this Church supported movements toward ecclesial autonomy in their former British colonies. This narrative, which at times attempts to contrast British Methodism with the United Methodist Church, holds that the “Methodist Church in Britain is not identical in ethos” to Methodism in “the United States,” which has struggled to retain a global presence (Beck 2002:106). However, while this may be so, it is evident that British Methodism has also continued to exert considerable influence in its former overseas districts which, after obtaining independence, have generally continued to retain the doctrinal standards that they inherited from the founding denomination. Taking the Methodist Church in Zimbabwe as an example, this essay explores the way in which these continue to exert a negative influence on the lives of many Christian people today.

Abstract Catalan nationalism had always supported Ireland in its struggle for autonomy or independence against the British Empire. The outbreak of the Irish Civil War, nevertheless, surprised Catalanism. This article discusses the difficulties of the main Catalanist political parties in that period—the Lliga Regionalista, Acció Catalana, and Estat Català—to explain the Anglo-Irish Treaty in the Catalanist milieu as well as the difficulties of differentiating dominion and federation and adopting a coherent position according to their own ideology and to Catalan internal political dynamics. Focusing on this study case, the objective of the article is to show the difficulties of stateless national movements to explain their own politics and objectives from external models. And, likewise, how the look toward an external nationalism can stop being useful or even raise unexpected questions within the movement that tries to explain itself by simplifying the contexts of others.

Abstract As the State of Israel defined citizenship rights for its Jewish population after independence in 1948, it also began to articulate the rights of those affected by disabilities of the mind—i.e., psychiatric, cognitive, and learning disabilities—by issuing, for example, the “Law for the Management of Institutes” (1952) and the “Law for the Treatment of the Mentally Ill” (1955). Due to haphazard state-building and insufficient funding, however, this process was slow and uneven. In the meantime, people with mental and cognitive disabilities often remained vulnerable to abuse and sexual violence in domestic and institutional spaces and suffered from a lack of proper care and accommodation. Operating on the assumption that disability of the mind could be transmitted from generation to generation, some medical professionals contemplated sterilization as a way to prevent the reproduction of mental disability in the children of affected parents, but the lingering trauma caused by the Holocaust and Nazi racial hygiene hindered their plan. This article examines a 1954 case involving a cognitively disabled woman who was brought to court for neglecting her children. Due to her delinquent parenting, she was slated to undergo sterilization, but her legal incompetence raised a host of ethical questions that tested the psychiatrists’ and judicial authorities’ assumptions about cognitive competence, civic fitness, and reproductive autonomy. By examining contemporary press reports of the legal proceedings, their larger context, and their consequences, this article shows how the woman remained hostage to male-dominated power structures that devalued her dual status as a mother and as a cognitively impaired citizen. While this case study shows how easily overridden were the liberties and protections of those affected by disabilities of the mind, it can also be viewed as a situation that impelled the Israeli public to contemplate the rights of the cognitively disabled, foreshadowing later movements aimed at expanding the boundaries of society to include members of many degrees of ability.

The lengthy political party conflicts in Argentina following the wars of independence concluded in the early 1870s when the Unitarios, now more commonly known as the Liberals (Liberales), defeated the last of four major rebellions by the Federalists (Federales). Of the four insurrections, the first two --in 1863 and 1866-1867, led by Ángel V. Peñaloza and Felipe Varela-- occurred in the western provinces, and the second two, in 1870 and 1873, under Ricardo López Jordán, in the eastern province of Entre Ríos. The origins of all four movements lay in the country's turbulent political history during the previous fifty years since the outbreak of the wars of independence. In part, the rebellions reflected resentments against the rulers of the province of Buenos Aires for monopolizing the revenues from foreign trade. They became constitutional disputes between the Liberal supporters of national state-building and the Federalist proponents of provincial autonomy. On a local level, they became struggles between town and country, and ethnic and class conflicts between the white Liberal urban elite and the Federalist rural mestizo gauchos. Above all, the rebellions of the 1860s and early 1870s became reactions to the aggressive Liberal movement based in Buenos Aires. In 1861 an English visitor argued that the construction of railroads would spontaneously effect the social and political changes desired by the Liberals. "But the unquiet spirit of these intriguing doctores," as he called the leaders of the Liberals, "is not content to let nature work in her own fashion: they imagine they have a holy mission to redeem the provinces from barbarism and caudillos."

The dynamics of self-determination have increasingly demanded the attention of academics, policymakers, and the international community in general. This can be attributed to the new age of the communications revolution; peoples are increasingly aware of state systems and how they can be recognized and respected within a state system. These people, largely with peculiarities, whether to be recognized within a state or internationally, are now pushing to exercise what they perceive as their right to self-determination, which in their calculation includes the right to independent statehood; in international law, do these groups have this right? Is this new call a result of the dissolution of imperial powers, neo-decolonization or just increased international consciousness on the subject matter? How should the intelligentsia and the international community approach this issue in our modern-day? History has shown that self-determination movements often resort to violence to achieve targeted aims and objectives. The origins of these movements have continued to be a subject of debate within international relations and international law as well; however, the outside world continues to pay little attention to this thorny matter until conflict breaks out, leaving similarly ambitious groups with the mindset that violence is the only practical course of action. The issue of self-determination is often assessed from a formal, legalistic viewpoint. While most knowledgeable actors continue to address the issue mildly, it should be known that in practicality, the issue is far trickier than it looks on paper. Self-determination encompasses so many issues—including individual and minority rights, autonomy, state repression, territorial integrity, state sovereignty, and claims to independence, to name but a few—the intelligentsia and the international community should see this issue as one that cannot be treated lightly, at least for the sake of protecting lives and property. This paper extensively discusses the concept of statehood in international law, including the issue of state-building and the criteria for the rise of a state established in law. It further examines and interrogates the Montevideo Convention; also, this work explores the recognition of statehood in its classical and modern understanding as it relates to prevailing legal theories.

The word “anarchy” comes from the ancient Greek word “anarchos” and means “without a ruler.” While rulers, quite expectedly, claim that the end of rule will inevitably lead to a descent into chaos and turmoil, anarchists maintain that rule is unnecessary for the preservation of order. Rather than a descent into Hobbes’s war of all against all, a society without government suggests to anarchists the very possibility for creative and peaceful human relations. Pierre-Joseph Proudhon neatly summed up the anarchist position in his famous slogan: “Anarchy is Order.” Historically, anarchists have sought to create a society without government or State, free from coercive, hierarchical and authoritarian relations, in which people associate voluntarily. Anarchists emphasize freedom from imposed authorities. They envision a society based upon autonomy, self-organization and voluntary federation which they oppose to “the State as a particular body intended to maintain a compulsory scheme of legal order” (Marshall 12). Contemporary anarchists focus much of their efforts on transforming everyday life through the development of alternative social arrangements and organizations. Thus, they are not content to wait either for elite-initiated reforms or for future “post-revolutionary” utopias. If social and individual freedoms are to be expanded the time to start is today. In order to bring their ideas to life, anarchists create working examples. To borrow the old Wobbly phrase, they are “forming the structure of the new world in the shell of the old.” These experiments in living, popularly referred to as “DIY” (Do-It-Yourself), are the means by which contemporary anarchists withdraw their consent and begin “contracting” other relationships. DIY releases counter-forces, based upon notions of autonomy and self-organization as motivating principles, against the normative political and cultural discourses of neo-liberalism. Anarchists create autonomous spaces which are not about access but about refusal of the terms of entry (e.g. nationalism, etc). The “Do-it-Yourself” ethos has a long and rich association with anarchism. One sees it as far back as Proudhon’s notions of People’s Banks and local currencies which have returned in the form of LETS (Local Exchange and Trade Systems). In North America, 19th Century anarchist communes, such as those of Benjamin Tucker, find echoes in the Autonomous Zones and squat communities of the present day. In the recent past, Situationists, Kabouters, and the British punk movements have encouraged DIY activities as means to overcome alienating consumption practices and the authority and control of work. Punks turned to DIY to record and distribute music outside of the record industry. At the forefront of contemporary DIY are the “Autonomous Zones” or more simply “A-Zones.” “Autonomous Zones” are community centres based upon anarchist principles, often providing meals, clothing and shelter for those in need. These sites, sometimes but not always squats, provide gathering places for exploring and learning about anti-authoritarian histories and traditions. Self-education is an important aspect of anarchist politics. A-Zones are important as sites of re-skilling. DIY and participatory democracy are important precisely because they encourage the processes of learning and independence necessary for self-determined communities. A-Zones are often sites for quite diverse and complex forms of activity. The “Trumbellplex” in Detroit is an interesting example. Housed, ironically, in the abandoned home of an early-Century industrialist, the Trumbell Theatre serves as a co-operative living space, temporary shelter, food kitchen and lending library. The carriage house has been converted into a theatre site for touring anarchist and punk bands and performance troops like the “Bindlestiff Circus.” Because of their concern with transcending cultural barriers, residents of A-Zones try to build linkages with residents of the neighbourhoods in which they were staying. The intention is to create autonomous free zones that may be extended as resources and conditions permit. These various practices are all part of complex networks that are trans-national, trans-boundary and trans-movement. They encourage us to think about writing against the movement as movement. Movement processes involve complex networks outside of and alongside of the State (trans-national and trans-boundary). These are the building blocks of what Howard Ehrlich refers to as the anarchist transfer culture, an approximation of the new society within the context of the old. Within it anarchists try to meet the basic demands of building sustainable communities. A transfer culture is that agglomeration of ideas and practices that guide people in making the trip from the society here to the society there in the future….As part of the accepted wisdom of that transfer culture we understand that we may never achieve anything that goes beyond the culture itself. It may be, in fact, that it is the very nature of anarchy that we shall always be building the new society within whatever society we find ourselves (Ehrlich 329). In this sense, anarchist autonomous zones are liminal sites, spaces of transformation and passage. As such they are important sites of re-skilling, in which anarchists prepare themselves for the new forms of relationship necessary to break authoritarian and hierarchical structures. Participants also learn the diverse tasks and varied interpersonal skills necessary for collective work and living. This skill sharing serves to discourage the emergence of knowledge elites and to allow for the sharing of all tasks, even the least desirable, necessary for social maintenance. For Paul Goodman, an American anarchist whose writings influenced the 1960s New Left and counterculture, anarchist futures-present serve as necessary acts of “drawing the line” against the authoritarian and oppressive forces in society. Anarchism, in Goodman’s view, was never oriented only towards some glorious future; it involved also the preservation of past freedoms and previous libertarian traditions of social interaction. “A free society cannot be the substitution of a ‘new order’ for the old order; it is the extension of spheres of free action until they make up most of the social life” (Goodman quoted in Marshall 598). Utopian thinking will always be important, Goodman argued, in order to open the imagination to new social possibilities, but the contemporary anarchist would also need to be a conservator of society’s benevolent tendencies. As many recent anarchist writings suggest, the potential for resistance might be found anywhere in everday life. If power is exercised everywhere, it might give rise to resistance everywhere. Present-day anarchists like to suggest that a glance across the landscape of contemporary society reveals many groupings that are anarchist in practice if not in ideology. Examples include the leaderless small groups developed by radical feminists, coops, clinics, learning networks, media collectives, direct action organizations; the spontaneous groupings that occur in response to disasters, strikes, revolutions and emergencies; community-controlled day-care centers; neighborhood groups; tenant and workplace organizing; and so on (Ehrlich, Ehrlich, DeLeon and Morris 18). While these are obviously not strictly anarchist groups, they often operate to provide examples of mutual aid and non-hierarchical and non-authoritarian modes of living that carry the memory of anarchy within them. It is within these everyday examples that anarchists glimpse the possibilities for a libertarian social order. If, as Colin Ward suggests, anarchy is a seed beneath the snow of authoritarian society, daily expressions of mutual aid are the first blooms from which a new order will grow. In viewing the projects that emerge from contemporary anarchist movements, I would suggest that, in the words of Castells, Yazawa and Kiselyova, such projects offer “alternative visions and projects of social transformation that reject the patterns of domination, exploitation and exclusion embedded in the current forms of globalization” (22). Following Leslie Sklair I suggest that autonomist/anarchy movements exemplify a “disruption” model of social movements and resistances to capitalism (as opposed to an “organizational model” or an “integrationist model”). Through their uncompromising rhetoric and immodest strategies they resist attempts to divert their disruptive force into normal politics. Activists attempt to reject the entire context within which they can be either marginalized or assimilated; they occupy their own ground. This “autonomy” must be constantly constructed, reconstructed and defended in the face of powerful foes as events of the last four years have shown. Autonomy movements in abandoned or impoverished inner-city areas are movements involving individuals, social groups or territories excluded or made precarious by the “new world order”. This distinguishes them somewhat from institutional global social movements that seek increased participation by members who are not yet rendered irrelevant (and who thus have something with which to bargain). In any event, how does one ask a global (or national) body to grant the “subversion of the dominant paradigm” or the “liberation of desire?” References Ehrlich, Howard J. “Introduction to Reinventing Anarchist Tactics.” Reinventing Anarchy, Again. Ed. H. J. Ehrlich. Edinburgh: AK Press, 1996: 329-330. ———. “How to Get from Here to There: Building Revolutionary Transfer Culture.” Reinventing Anarchy, Again. Ed. Howard J. Ehrlich. Edinburgh: AK Press, 1996: 331-349. Ehrlich, Howard J., Carol Ehrlich, David DeLeon, and Glenda Morris. “Questions and Answers about Anarchism.” Reinventing Anarchy, Again. Ed. Howard J. Ehrlich. Edinburgh: AK Press, 1996: 4-18. Horowitz, Irving L (Ed.). The Anarchists. New York: Dell, 1964. Joll, James. The Anarchists. New York: Grosset and Dunlap, 1964. Laclau, Ernesto, and Chantal Mouffe. Hegemony and Socialist Strategy. London: Verso, 1985. Lange, Jonathan, I. “Refusal to Compromise: The Case of Earth First!” Western Journal of Speech Communication 54 (1990): 473-94. Marshall, Peter. Demanding the Impossible: A History of Anarchism. London: Fontana Press, 1993. Proudhon, Pierre-Joseph. Selected Writings of Pierre-Joseph Proudhon. Garden City: Anchor Books, 1969. Sklair, Leslie. 1995. “Social Movements and Global Capitalism.” Sociology 29.3 (1995): 495-512. Ward, Colin. Anarchy in Action. New York: Harper Torchbooks, 1973. Woodcock, George. Anarchism: A History of Libertarian Ideas and Movements. New York: World Publishing, 1962. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Shantz, J. "Anarchy Is Order: Creating the New World in the Shell of the Old." M/C Journal 7.6 (2005). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0501/09-shantz.php>. APA Style Shantz, J. (Jan. 2005) "Anarchy Is Order: Creating the New World in the Shell of the Old," M/C Journal, 7(6). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0501/09-shantz.php>.

Photo ID 279661800 © Sidewaypics|Dreamstime.com ABSTRACT Decolonization is complex, vast, and the subject of an ongoing academic debate. While the many efforts to decolonize or dismantle the vestiges of colonialism that remain are laudable, they can also reinforce what they seek to end. For decolonization to be impactful, it must be done with epistemic and cultural humility, requiring decolonial scholars, project leaders, and well-meaning people to be more sensitive to those impacted by colonization and not regularly included in the discourse. INTRODUCTION Decolonization is complex. To successfully achieve decolonization, projects should incorporate the voices of those subjugated or silenced. Including such voices requires sincerely exploring who has been affected by colonialism or neocolonialism and how, as well as cultural sensitivity. In its basic use, decolonization refers to countries under colonial rule gaining independence or freedom from forms of subjugation. Additionally, scholars use the term to refer to efforts to dismantle neocolonialism and vestiges of colonialism. The process includes de-silencing subjugated voices.[1] I use decolonization in the latter way to refer to countries with technical independence. While arguably colonization ended formally with independence from colonizing powers, neocolonialism is the indirect, informal, and sometimes subtle control of the people, their economy, and political life despite formal independence from colonizing authorities. I conceptualize neocolonialism as a system that involves direct and involuntary control of another’s political, economic, or social life, impacting their worldview and ways of encountering the world. Decolonization may target actions, places, or systems like health care or AI to overcome the ills of colonialism and neocolonialism. It also may target knowledge and require rethinking how people develop their knowledge base. For example, if people grew up seeing an outside colonizer as superior, they would need to change their knowledge of superiority. Decolonization may target power, for example, changing who owns and distributes COVID-19 vaccines and who distributors exclude in the distribution of vaccines. Decolonization could require looking at those disempowered in the distribution process. Additionally, decolonization may target autonomy of persons by freeing people, ensuring human and individual rights, and respecting cultural traditions. Decolonization projects that try to de-silence by including the voices of those affected by colonialism and neocolonialism must examine inclusiveness in the context of the culture of the subrogated individuals. Examples of decolonization projects include making datasets inclusive of diverse peoples and places, returning to traditional food and eating practices, making sure hospitals in developing countries are led by locals and respectful of cultural traditions, returning unethically obtained artefacts or objects. Another project would be laying the groundwork for equality in formerly colonized countries to ensure that business ownership, education, and financial success will flow fairly to those previously victimized by colonization. Summarily, there are many strategies for decolonizing. However, it is worth asking whether the strategies have risks that undermine the goal of decolonization. I. Understanding Decolonization Discourses Many fields, from AI to politics, economics, health care, aviation, and academia, discuss decolonization. The content of the discourse on decolonization depends on the region and field discussing it. Rather than just reporting on decolonization, the discussions may be calls to action. For example, decolonization discourses reflect activism for cognitive justice, such as equal consideration of Indian or African knowledge systems in global health discourses.[2] In politics and political science, some scholars frame decolonization as an anti-western, anti-colonial movement by Africans to emancipate Africa/ns from subjugation or shift the continent to postcolonialism and post-neo-colonialism. This framing walls off non-African participants and may undermine their capacity to benefit the conversation.[3] There are other political scientists who actively support decolonization and see it as a field of activism in support of anyone and countries where colonization harmed people and development.[4] The point is that two ways of conceptualizing decolonization in politics and political science are discernible. One conceptualization is less inclusive since it alienates scholars and professionals from Western, high-income, or developed countries. The other is more inclusive. In humanitarian studies, including philosophy, some decolonization articles and conversations are efforts to end the destructive force of colonization. They focus on either the form, such as ecocide, genocide, and many others, or the geographic location, such as Africa, Asia, Latin America, and Oceania.[5] Finally, the feelings one brings into this conversation can adversely impact how one engages in them and who they listen to or are willing to hear from. For example, anger, rage, bitterness, and hatred are emotions that are not uncommon in spaces of decolonization conversations. Decolonization conversations that originate from a place of negativity risk deepening the psychological state of victimhood and prevent people from disrupting constructively or critically engaging in the conversation.[6] II. Understanding Decolonization Strategies Decolonization strategies mainly aim to de-silence victims of domination or subjugation. People have proposed many strategies for decolonizing. These strategies may be informed by what the target is for decolonization. Decolonization can target power relations in global health. For example, during the COVID-19 pandemic, public health organizations noted the power imbalance in vaccine distribution. Decolonization could involve de-silencing those affected by neocolonialism to bring about a more balanced distribution of power and a more fair distribution of the vaccine. By analyzing who was adversely impacted by the distribution and who ought to wield power, those engaged in decolonizing advocated for positive change and equitable power relations. Equally, when being is the target of decolonization, the language of unlearning or relearning and mental decolonization take centre stage in the decolonization discourse. For example, the quest to decolonize colonized minds aims to demythologize African inferiority and Western superiority. Demythologizing African inferiority enables those engaged in the decolonization discourse to cultivate and foster African agency.[7] Finally, when knowledge production is the target of decolonization, scholars use inclusion and cognitive justice. For example, they try to alter the knowledge that underlies global health ethics.[8] “[D]decolonizing researchers aim to respectfully understand and integrate theory from Other(ed) perspectives, while also critically examining the underlying assumptions that inform their Western research framework.”[9] One common strategy that scholars use in decolonization is inclusion. It is worth asking, does including people who have been subrogated foster decolonization? Whether that is effective depends on whether included people are more heard or whether the strategies to include them create new forms of silencing. III. Inclusion and the Quest to Decolonize Evaluating how effective inclusion is in the quest to de-silence subjugated voices is important. First, inclusive strategies are not neutral. They are epistemically situated. This situatedness constrains meaning-making in different ways: how and what questions are asked, how social roles are constructed, organized or assigned, and who is admitted to the room where these conversations occur.[10] Inclusion strategies may reinforce (unchallenged) assumptions. For example, to address prejudices and stereotypes in global health images, Arsenii Alenichev and his colleagues[11] successfully inverted “one stereotypical global health image” by prompting a generative AI to produce “an image of a traditional Indian or African healer healing a White Child.” Although there were some problems with the image of the White child, this innovation is a significant, useful effort to de-embed or strip global health images of problematic pictures that mythologize White superiority and Black inferiority. Yet it is possible that using categories like traditional Indian or African reinforces unchallenged assumptions, raising key questions regarding how language and words create new stereotypes. It is common to define traditional as non-conventional, unorthodox, and informal. Yet studies continue to reveal that non-scientifically appraised healing approaches in India or Africa are not only effective but also real, meaningful, fundamental, and primary care-seeking behaviours in many communities in these regions.[12] Suppose inclusive strategies are not un-situated. These conversations may be had within the structures, language, and spaces built by or connected to colonialism. The spaces, language, places, and structures in which these conversations occur can limit who can participate and how they participate. Importantly, some conditions are not conducive to participation as equals. The allocated time for the discussion could also constrain how individuals express themselves. It is unclear who is ultimately heard. Furthermore, epistemic situatedness of inclusion can impact decolonization conversations when participants are beneficiaries of, products of, and trained by structures and systems they seek to dismantle. To enhance the decolonization project and its goals, a pressing task is to unveil and question how the circumstances may inhibit activism. If the vestiges of colonialism continue to structure the decolonization discourse invisibly, the vestiges may undermine decolonization. For example, a public health discussion that includes white Western doctors and Western pharmaceutical executives in Africa may have many local Africans at the table but could still effectively devalue their input based on built-in assumptions and biases that are vestiges of colonialism. Second, exclusion and inclusion are also not binary. Individuals may experience exclusion, even while included (the phenomenon called internal exclusion). In other words, inclusion can fail to be substantial or become a means of enhancing optics, “a way of (un)consciously weakening the radical claims being pursued.”[13] For example, in South Africa, many institutions have made significant efforts to diversify their faculties due to the promulgation of the Employment Equity Act 55.[14] The act requires South African institutions to implement employment equity that redresses the history of harmful discrimination in the country. The act further requires transforming departments and institutional administrations. Although many recognize and support the need to transform departments in South Africa, the rhetoric of transformation departs sharply from the lived experiences.[15] This misalignment between the plan and practice is evident in the underrepresentation of black people and females in senior management teams, professorships in many universities and health departments, and positions of power in some South African institutions. Those selected in the transformation of the departments have also complained of being overworked. The burden of extra work undermines their ability to develop agency and voice in the space they now occupy or fulfil key requirements that have implications for their career trajectory.[16] This is called the minority tax. Notably, "the minority tax… is the burden of extra responsibilities [placed] on faculty of colour to achieve diversity and inclusion and contributes to attrition and impedes academic promotion."[17] One challenge for decolonializing projects will be for decolonial scholars and those selected for decolonization objectives to have the humility to decline invitations, requests, roles, and platforms for which they are either unqualified or lack the capacity to fulfil. At its heart, decolonization strategies must empower those included rather than weaken them. Finally, inclusion can lead to a phenomenon known as elite capture.[18] Elite capture occurs when socially advantaged individuals in a group monopolize or exploit activism to their own benefit at the expense of the larger, struggling group. Elite capture weakens decolonization efforts from within, revealing that those likely to benefit from global inclusive efforts are those who fulfil globally constructed standards, those “already present in the room.” There is no better strategy to weaken decolonial movements than weakening the project from within by strategically positioning individuals who share physical properties with the victims of exclusion and silencing but intellectually, behaviourally, psychologically, and emotionally share more common ground with the colonizer. Such insiders may be unaware they are furthering neocolonial conditions rather than decolonizing. In relation to decolonization, particularly in global health, elite capture reveals that those whose voices are loudest in the room are not necessarily those more impacted by colonialism. They may benefit more from reinforcing colonialism. Opportunism weakens meaningful activism from within, preventing good initiatives and strategies from having their intended impact or taking substantive root.[19] This paper cannot do justice to elite capture, but it is worth noting its negative impacts. IV. Improving the Impact of Decolonization To end neo-colonialism, it is important to understand how it manifests and what to do at each level. Beyond the academic discourse, many tangible efforts exist to decolonize through de-silencing. Examples of these efforts include the ME2 movement that seeks to centre the concerns and experiences of sexually abused or harassed victims in the public discourse. At the funding level, many grant-awarding agencies like Wellcome Trust have dedicated huge budgets to studies that help them understand how they may have perpetrated colonialism or neocolonialism and what they can do differently going forward.[20] In South Africa, promulgating the Employment Equity Act 55 was a tangible attempt to entrench decolonization concerns in a country's regulatory framework. Yet, these decolonization efforts could fail to be substantive if they do not reflect cultural sensitivity. Two key components of cultural sensitivity are worth highlighting here: epistemic and cultural humility. Epistemic humility is an intellectual virtue described as knowing one’s limitations and the limitations of the learning methods employed. At its simplest, it is the ability to admit when one is wrong. Cultural humility includes genuine attempts to learn about and embrace other cultures. Epistemic and cultural humility are signs of academic excellence and strength. Epistemic and cultural humility seriously acknowledge how the state of our knowledge, cognitive limitations, experiences, and backgrounds, while constraining us, also invite us to listen, learn, grow, and change. The limitations-owing account of epistemic and cultural humility suggests that “a person who is aware of her cognitive limitations and owns them is much better positioned to achieve such epistemic goods as true beliefs and understanding than someone who… simply has insight into the epistemic status of her beliefs.”[21] Epistemic and cultural humility may help prevent decolonization projects that unintentionally reinforce what they seek to dismantle. Epistemic humility calls on decolonizers to defer tasks for which they are not qualified to suitably qualified persons. Beyond this, humility supports brave scholarship that imagines and reimagines how featuring the same voices, faces, and perspectives possibly introduces new forms of domination or silencing. Cultural knowledge can lead to a more intentional way of seeking out the right people or a more diverse group than those frequently featured in decolonization conversations. This would give others more opportunities to navigate these spaces and should do so in ways that are familiar to them. One ought to be more sensitive to those who would ordinarily not be included in these conversations. Unless we radically and boldly reimagine these discussions, we risk alienating those most negatively impacted by neocolonialism. CONCLUSION Decolonization conversations are complex and the subject of academic debate. The strategies employed to decolonize can harm or help the victims of neo-colonialism. Inclusion of previously silenced individuals may not be enough to overcome the vestiges of colonialism, leading to a false inclusion, where those included feel excluded or contribute in ways reflecting their own biases and circumstances. Inclusion of an elite or people who do not truly represent the subjugated can lead to elite capture. For decolonization strategies to be impactful, for example, in the context of global health, project leaders and participants must engage in conversations employing epistemic and cultural humility. In many ways, epistemic and cultural humility can help us demythologize our assumptions of any cultural superiority or cognitive authority, allowing for diverse voices, cultures, and perspectives to emerge without domination. - [1] Caesar Atuire & Olivia Rutazibwa. 2021. An African Reading of the Covid-19 Pandemic and the Stakes of Decolonization. An African Reading of the Covid-19 Pandemic and the Stakes of Decolonization [Online]. Available from: https://law.yale.edu/yls-today/news/african-reading-covid-19-pandemic-and-stakes-decolonization [Accessed July 29, 2021 2021]. [2] Bridget Pratt & Jantina De Vries 2023. Where is knowledge from the Global South? An account of epistemic justice for a global bioethics. Journal of Medical Ethics, medethics-2022-108291. [3] Anye-Nkwenti Nyamnjoh 2023. Is decolonisation Africanisation? The politics of belonging in the truly African university. Social Dynamics, 1-20. [4] Rianna Oelofsen 2015. Decolonisation of the African mind and intellectual landscape. Phronimon, 16, 130-146. [5] Caesar Atuire & Olivia Rutazibwa. 2021. An African Reading of the Covid-19 Pandemic and the Stakes of Decolonization. An African Reading of the Covid-19 Pandemic and the Stakes of Decolonization [Online]. Available from: https://law.yale.edu/yls-today/news/african-reading-covid-19-pandemic-and-stakes-decolonization [Accessed July 29, 2021 2021]. [6] Pedro Alexis Tabensky 2008. The Postcolonial Heart of African Philosophy. South African Journal of Philosophy, 27, 285-295. [7] Nicholas M. Creary 2012. African Intellectuals and Decolonization, Ohio, Ohio University Press. [8] Bridget Pratt & Jantina De Vries 2023. Where is knowledge from the Global South? An account of epistemic justice for a global bioethics. Journal of Medical Ethics, medethics-2022-108291. [9] Vivetha Thambinathan & Elizabeth Anne Kinsella 2021. Decolonizing Methodologies in Qualitative Research: Creating Spaces for Transformative Praxis. International Journal of Qualitative Methods, 20, 16094069211014766. [10] Abimbola Seye 2023. Knowledge from the global South is in the global South. Journal of Medical Ethics, 49, 337. [11] A. Alenichev, P. Kingori & K. P. Grietens 2023. Reflections before the storm: the AI reproduction of biased imagery in global health visuals. Lancet Glob Health. [12] Jonathan K. Burns & Andrew Tomita 2015. Traditional and religious healers in the pathway to care for people with mental disorders in Africa: a systematic review and meta-analysis. Social Psychiatry and Psychiatric Epidemiology, 50, 867-877. [13] Anye-Nkwenti Nyamnjoh & Cornelius Ewuoso 2023. What type of inclusion does epistemic injustice require? Journal of Medical Ethics, jme-2023-109091. [14] 1998. Employment Equity Act. In: GOVERNMENT, S. A. (ed.) 19370. [15] Dina Zoe Belluigi & Gladman Thondhlana 2019. ‘Why mouth all the pieties?’ Black and women academics’ revelations about discourses of ‘transformation’ at an historically white South African university. Higher Education, 78, 947-963. [16] Juliet Ramohai & Khomotso Marumo 2016. Women in Senior Positions in South African Higher Education: A Reflection on Voice and Agency. 231, 135-157. [17] J. Trejo 2020. The burden of service for faculty of color to achieve diversity and inclusion: the minority tax. Mol Biol Cell, 31, 2752-2754. [18] Olufemi Taiwo 2020. Being-in-the-Room Privilege: Elite Capture and Epistemic Deference. The Philosopher, 108, 7. [19] Margarita Kurbatova & Elena Kagan 2016. Opportunism of University Lecturers As a Way to Adaptate the External Control Activities Strengthening. Journal of Institutional Studies, 8, 116-136. [20] Jeremy Farrar. 2022. An update on Wellcome's anti-racist programme. An update on Wellcome's anti-racist programme [Online]. Available from: https://wellcome.org/news/update-wellcomes-anti-racism-programme [Accessed August 10, 2022 2022]. [21] Katherine Dormandy 2018. Does Epistemic Humility Threaten Religious Beliefs? Journal of Psychology and Theology, 46, 292-304.

Prelude: 2020 in Words Each year the Australian National Dictionary Centre, based at the Australian National University (ANU), selects “a word or expression that has gained prominence in the Australian social landscape”. In 2020, “iso” took out first place, with “bubble” following close behind. On the Centre’s website, Senior Researcher Mark Gywnn explains that “iso” was selected not only for its flexibility, merrily combining with other words to create new compound words (for instance “being in iso”, doing “iso baking” and putting on “iso weight”), but also because it “stood out as a characteristically Aussie abbreviation” (Australian National Dictionary Centre). Alongside the flexibility of the word “iso” and its affinity with the Australian English tradition of producing and embracing diminutives, iso’s appeal might well be that it does not carry the associations that the word “bubble” has acquired in the time of COVID. While COVID-19 has put many of us in various forms of “iso”, the media imagery—and indeed experiences—of many older people living in residential aged care during COVID has shifted some of the associations of the word “bubble”, heightening its associations with fragility and adding vulnerability and helplessness into the mix. 2020 was not the first time “bubble” has appeared in the Australian word of the year list. In 2018 “Canberra bubble” took out the first spot. What interests us about bubble’s runner-up position behind “iso” in 2020’s word of the year is what this might also reveal about the way ideas of independence vs dependence, and youthfulness vs aged underlie and inflect new usages of these words. In the era of COVID-19, the buoyancy of “iso” is tied to its association with a particular kind of Aussie-youth-speak, while the sense of heaviness and negative resonances that now accompany the word bubble are tied to its associations with the experiences of those in aged care. In 2020 “bubble”—a word that has primarily been associated with children and the child-like (bubble baths, bubble tea)—took on new associations and overtones. As the pandemic unfolded, “bubble” also became intertwined with media depictions of and popular discourses around those in later life, many of whom experienced “iso” much more brutally than the easy-Aussie-speak of “iso” would convey. There is much less play—and a lot less mingling—in the Australian National Dictionary Centre description of new uses of the word “bubble”: “a district, region, or a group of people viewed as a closed system, isolating from other districts, regions, or groups as a public health measure to limit the spread of Covid-19”. There have been various kinds of “closed system[s]”, isolated groups and regions constructed in the management of the pandemic, but there is one group—and one kind of location—that has been “bubbled” in quite specific ways. While the sectioning off and isolating of older age people in the name of protecting their health has often been ineffectively—and in some places, disastrously—managed in terms of disease prevention, it has been very effective in reducing the rights and voices of those it acts in the name of. Speaking from Ireland but commenting on the situation in the UK and parts of Europe, Anne Fuchs and colleagues write that “the discursive homogenization and ‘frailing’ of the over 65s meant that people in this category were an object of public discourse rather than participants in the debate” (2). In many instances the “bubbling” of older people, particularly those in aged care residences, has served to both isolate and render largely voiceless the residents of these care homes. Although the global impact of COVID-19 on the aged has been significant, including across many affluent societies, it has been particularly disastrous in Australia. At the time of writing (1 January 2021), of the 909 COVID-related deaths in Australia to date, 693 have been of people aged 80 or over: in other words, more than 75% of COVID-related deaths in Australia have been of people over 80. According to the federal government’s records of COVID-19 deaths by age group and sex, 685 of these deaths have been of aged care residents. It is not surprising therefore that many speak of the heavy impact of COVID-19 on older people as a form of genocide. Public discourse and government policies and priorities around COVID-19 have thrown into relief and exacerbated some of the deeply troubling ways that older people, particularly those living in aged care residences, are not recognised or treated as “equal partners in our future” (Royal Commission into Aged Care 1). Both the management of and public discourse around COVID-19 have highlighted and escalated the forms of ageism, especially ageism around later life, that have become embedded in Australian culture. In late 2019 the Royal Commission into Aged Care Quality and Safety released its Interim Report, titled simply Neglect. In the Foreword, the commissioners write: the Australian community generally accepts that older people have earned the chance to enjoy their later years, after many decades of contribution and hard work. Yet the language of public discourse is not respectful towards older people. Rather, it is about burden, encumbrance, obligation and whether taxpayers can afford to pay for the dependence of older people. (Royal Commission into Aged Care 1) Written and released before the COVID-19 pandemic, the Interim Report highlighted the “fundamental fact that our aged care system essentially depersonalises older people” (Royal Commission into Aged Care 6) and identified many ways “the aged care system fails to meet the needs of our older, often very vulnerable, citizens” (Royal Commission into Aged Care 1). In 2020 we saw some of the effects of these failures in the often disastrous mismanagement of disease transmission prevention in many aged care residences in Australia. Equally troubling, the resulting deaths have at times been accompanied by a general acceptance of the loss of so many in later life to COVID-19. The fact that these deaths are often regarded as somehow more inevitable, or as less significant than the deaths of others, is an indication of how deeply “Australia has drifted into an ageist mindset that undervalues older people and limits their possibilities” (Royal Commission into Aged Care 1). It assumes that one’s later-life years are of less significance and value (to oneself, to the community) than one’s younger years. At various times in the pandemic, sizable parts of the global population have been variously asked, advised, or required by their governments to remain within their household or residential “bubble”. These COVID-related “bubbles” are more buoyant for some. Jackie Gulland has written a feminist analysis of the ways that the UK COVID-19 lockdown rules are premised on “neo-liberal assumptions about the family as autonomous and sufficient for the provision of reproductive labour” (330). In many places the requirement to stay within one’s “household bubble” both assumes that the home is safe for all, and that most care and dependency requirements are provided and received within a household. As Gulland’s essay demonstrates, the idea of the household bubble constructs an image or idea of who and what constitutes a household, and which relationships “count”. Drawing on critiques of neo-liberal and able-ist ideas about autonomy by feminist and disability scholars, Gulland “shows how the failure of policymakers to take account of interdependency has made lockdown more difficult for carers and those in receipt of care” (330). In this essay we look at some of the ways that the required and/or imagined COVID-19 bubbles for people in later life are thought of differently to the COVID-19 bubbles that younger, and mixed age, households are imagined as forming. This is particularly the case, we argue, for those in aged care residences. Younger and mixed age COVID bubbles often include extended or linked households (as we will discuss below in relation to the idea of the compassionate bubble) and function as a bubble that can link and enclose. In contrast, COVID bubbles in and for aged care and those in later life, work to isolate and separate. They function as bubbles that close off and shut out, as if placing the older person and older people behind glass (in some cases, quite literally). Likewise, while the COVID-19 bubbles for the “general” population (a category from which those in later life are often excluded) are regarded as temporary structures that will in time be dissolved to re-allow social movement and intermingling, the later life and aged care COVID-19 bubble is imagined very differently. This is because it is overlaid upon a pre-existing conception of later life—and in particular the fourth age—as itself a kind of bubbled existence, a fragile state held somewhat separate and apart from the general population and moving inexorably toward death—a bubble that pops. Bubbling the Fourth Age The idea that later life can be divided into different stages and ages has a long history, although the shape, meaning and valuing of different ages in later life is historically specific. Back in the late 1980s the Cambridge historian Peter Laslett proposed that rather than falling into three main stages—childhood, adulthood and old age—there are in fact four stages and that “later life can be divided into a ‘third age’ and a ‘fourth age’” (Gilleard and Higgs, “The Fourth Age” 368). Laslett’s distinction between a third age (active and characterised by personal fulfillment) and a fourth age (for Laslett an age of infirmity) has become increasingly significant in both age studies and in the provision and imagining of aged care. While the third age is increasingly depicted as something that, when managed “successfully”, can expand and fill with rich experiences and rewards (assuming one has the economic and social privilege and mobility to embrace these rich offerings—see Katz and McHugh cited in Zeilig, “Critical Use of Narrative”), the fourth age, on the other hand, is associated with frailty, increased dependence, vulnerability, precarity (see Lloyd; Gilleard and Higgs; and Morganroth Gullette on the fourth age). Of course, experiences of vulnerability, dependency and precarity run throughout the life course and cannot be reduced to chronological age. However, the distinction between a third and fourth age tends to assume that once one “leaves” the third age, it is a one-way path to “the three ‘Ds’: decrepitude, dependence, and death” (Laslett). The fourth age becomes associated with those aspects of ageing that are culturally rejected and pushed aside—in particular physical dependence which, as in much able-ist thinking, is rendered abject. As Morganroth Gullette has argued, a “savage contradiction” underlies and fuels this distinction, as “fantasies of the longevity bonanza proliferate alongside growing terrors of living too long” and becoming a “‘burden’” (21). In other words, those aspects of ageing—indeed those aspects of being human—that are seen as undesirable and/or abject are associated with the fourth age and imagined as somehow exclusive to it: they are placed elsewhere, contained in a fourth age “bubble”. The understanding of the fourth age as a kind of bubble is evident in and enabled by various kinds of cultural representations and institutional discourses around later life, including the kind of language used (particularly language connoting precarity and fragility and liminality) and recurrent media imagery in which people in their “fourth age” are depicted as mentally and physically out of reach (for instance isolated behind glass). Legislation around the movements of residents, visitors, and staff in aged care residence does not simply create “protective” bubbles around aged care residences but also constructs and imagines these residences and their inhabitants as “bubbled”, removed, and voiceless. Vulnerability, ephemerality, precarity and decline have become increasingly significant in representations of and discourses around ageing. Much of the media coverage of those in later life, particularly those living in aged care residences, has further fuelled what Sally Chivers has called the “nursing home specter” and delivered, in heightened and often spectacularised form, the “life-course narrative that dominant culture provides—an unliveable mind and unrecognizable body, mountainous expense” (Morganroth Gullette, 24). The discourse on ageing is characterised by the use of metaphor and metonymy, of which “the bubble” or “bubbling” is only one notable example. The culture of fear that surrounds the fourth age stems from the presumption that ageing inevitably leads to decay and decline in quality of life, and that the experience of ageing is characterised by various forms of physical and cognitive deterioration, such as dementia. Cultural gerontologist Hannah Zeilig has drawn attention to the pervasive use of metaphors—in both medical journals and mass media reports—to describe the experience of living with dementia. These metaphors attempt to capture and simplify the complexities of being, speaking, and knowing experienced by people with dementia. They are frequently used to communicate these experiences to people who do not live with dementia. The cultural metaphors of dementia are potent examples of ageism. They are not neutral in their connotations or implicit value judgements. These metaphors reveal wider social anxieties around ageing, despite the fact that people in their 40s and 50s can have dementia (Dementia Australia). As Zeilig has pointed out, many of these metaphors have presented a negative framing of dementia, describing the rising numbers of dementia diagnoses in apocalyptic, biblical terms such as “plague”, “crisis”, and “epidemic” (“Cultural Metaphor” 260). While this hyperbole may be grounded in statistics and the realities of an ageing population, it has nevertheless been alarming. This rhetoric has often been a necessary tactic for dementia organisations as part of their efforts to secure media coverage, raise public awareness of dementia, and lobby for increased government and private investment in funding research and support services. Despite these noble intentions, this rhetoric can risk excluding or marginalising the voices of people living with dementia. Some of the metaphors that have been used to describe dementia are particularly dehumanising and stigmatising, such as the perception of Alzheimer’s disease as a form of “living death”. This conception of Alzheimer’s, which Susan M. Behuniak has observed in both scholarly and popular discourse, elicits strong negative emotional responses of revulsion and fear. It constructs people with Alzheimer’s as abject zombie-like figures living a half-life or twilight existence. These trends in dementia discourse that Zeilig and Behuniak identified in the first half of the 2010s are also apparent in media imagery and discourse about older people in the COVID-19 pandemic. Much like the cultural narratives of dementia, these representations often reinforce the fourth age’s association with forms of vulnerability, decline and decay that are rendered abject. In contrast to this negative framing of both dementia and the fourth age, the trope of “living in a bubble” can also present a more ambivalent conception of both living with dementia and, by extension, the sociocultural experience of living in the fourth age during the time of COVID-19. “Bubbling” can serve a protective function for the person living with dementia by reducing sensory overload and cognitive confusion that may lead to anxiety and emotional distress. In dementia care, bubble wands and bubble wrap are two of the most commonly used tools in sensory therapy for reducing anxiety and agitation, and providing comfort (DailyCaring). These examples remind us of the materiality of the bubble, which functions as both cultural trope and material condition that affects people’s lives (to borrow from Helen Deutsch and Felicity Nussbaum, cited in Vivian Sobchack’s essay on metaphor and materiality). Within the diversity and range of caring practices encompassed by the trope of “bubbling”, there is clear potential for the bubble to be enabling, rather than disabling, if it is used to enhance quality of life and wellbeing for older people, rather than to separate, marginalise and isolate. Despite the multivalent possibilities of the bubble for enhancing quality of life for people with dementia, the bubble’s association with precarity has been heightened by its deployment to protect older people during the COVID-19 pandemic. This is a source of ambivalence around the COVID-19 bubble, a public health response that is acknowledged as having both protective and harmful effects. It involves “bubbling” older people, especially those living in residential care, by physically isolating them and limiting their contact with family and friends to conversations mediated by digital technology or a windowpane. By restricting physical and direct contact with the outside world in order to reduce and contain transmission of the virus, the COVID-19 bubble is intended to protect the physical health of older adults. But as Karra Harrington and Martin J. Sliwinski caution, this can also risk the cognitive health and mental wellbeing of older people by creating social isolation. These concerns about the negative health impacts of the COVID-19 bubble compound the existing popular understanding of late life as isolated and isolating, perpetuating the ageist assumptions that characterise the social imaginary around the fourth age. Creating Compassionate Bubbles The distress of separation caused by COVID-19 lockdowns and restrictions is felt by all generations, not just older people. Recognising the costs to our emotional and mental wellbeing of living in isolation to protect our bodies and our communities from viral invasion, Australian epidemiologist Mary-Louise McLaws has called for “a compassionate germ bubble”, modelled on New Zealand’s concept of an extended bubble that allows close contacts beyond one household. This alternative approach to “bubbling” is designed to strike a better balance between physical and mental health. Writing during Melbourne’s strict and prolonged lockdown following a second wave of cases in the winter of 2020, McLaws argued that “a compassionate germ bubble may foster resilience by reducing a sense of isolation for people living alone and friends, extended family and partners distressed by the separation”. There have been a number of creative and compassionate responses to the necessity of the COVID-19 bubble for protecting those most vulnerable to the virus. Aged care residences have developed innovative ways to safely maintain in-person visits and provide opportunities for face-to-face contact between residents and their families and friends. One example reported in the Australian media (Steger) is “The Window of Love” in Perth, which demonstrates the positive potential of the bubble—represented here as a pane of glass bordered by a painted frame—for facilitating social connection and supporting wellbeing despite restrictions on physical contact. The media reporting of these innovations tends to spectacularise the residents of these homes, reinforcing their fragility and vulnerability as they are framed behind plastic or glass. In December 2020, international media outlets The Guardian, RTE News, and Star Media posted a Reuters video story on their respective YouTube channels about a “hug bubble” created in an aged care home in Jeumont, France. This inflatable plastic tunnel allows physical touch between those living in the home and those outside it through hermetically sealed sleeves. Separating the resident from their visitors is a clear plastic sheet, which is disinfected by staff in between each visit. Recognising the importance of physical contact for wellbeing, nursing staff reported that the hug bubble has brought comfort to the residents, whose previous contact with family and friends since the outbreak of COVID-19 in March 2020 had been limited to video calls or talking through a window. Viewer comments reveal divergent responses to this media story across all three YouTube channels. Some viewers applaud the innovation while others disparage the hug bubble as “cruel” and “disgraceful”. Other comments register viewers’ ambivalence, recognising the good intentions behind the idea while despairing at the need for it. Several comments offer a snapshot of the cynical, often incoherent views about the pandemic commonly found on social media platforms like Facebook and Twitter, while also demonstrating the persistence of ageist attitudes that regard the elderly as a burden. These negative responses are striking in contrast with the positive framing of the original media report, which is presented as a “feel good” human interest story through brief interviews with family members and nursing home staff, reflecting on the residents’ experiences using the hug bubble. This positive framing is reinforced by the gentle music track accompanying the video posted on the RTE News channel. Beyond the institutional context of aged care residences, many families and communities have also engineered solutions to reduce the stress of separation. Craving physical contact after months of isolation, they have embraced the materiality and tactility inherent in the bubble trope. People have improvised using household objects, such as plastic sleeves attached to transparent shower curtains, to build “cuddle curtains”, and “hug machines” to enable safe—and playful—physical contact. These innovations and adaptations tap into the bubble’s playful qualities, while also “going viral” as families document their creativity, delight and joy through their own video stories shared on YouTube. As we move into the second year of the COVID-19 pandemic, with case numbers and the death toll continuing to climb globally, the concept of the COVID-19 bubble and its role in protecting the community will continue to be debated, refined and reconfigured in both public health responses and media discourse. Despite Australia’s relatively good fortune in terms of total number of COVID-related deaths compared to other Western nations such as the US and the UK, the disproportionately high number of deaths among Australians in aged care is a sobering reminder of the systemic failures in Australia’s aged care residences. As we move in and out of periods of social isolation, restrictions and lockdowns, it will become increasingly important to address the mental health impacts of “living in a bubble” and to consider creative, compassionate alternatives that challenge ageism and maintain quality of life for fourth age Australians. *** As COVID-19 and its management continue to reshape our world(s) and our relations to each other, its impacts continue to be unevenly felt, particularly for those in later life. For this reason, it becomes increasingly important to be alert to the ways in which “bubbling” the fourth age in response to COVID-19 risks reinforcing a homogenising view of older people as vulnerable and isolated, defenceless against viral invasion and voiceless in expressing agency and maintaining social connection. This essay responds to Hannah Zeilig’s earlier call to “radically rethink the ways in which age and ageing have been culturally configured” (“Critical Use of Narrative” 16). One of the purposes of this essay has been to critically assess some of the ways that the relatively new discourse of a fourth age—as somehow both qualitatively and quantifiably different to and separate from the third age—entails a homogenising view of older people. This view has enabled forms of ageism that have often been particularly brutal in their impact during the pandemic. In this essay we have argued that popular conceptions of and public health discourse and policy around the fourth age have often enabled—or, at the very least, supported—forms of ageism. This ageism has been further heightened through both the discourse and the imagery of the COVID-19 bubble. The fourth age, we argued, has often been understood as bubble-like: as a “stage” of life when one is somehow separated from the larger community and culture. The fourth age is configured as physically fragile and precarious, transient and temporary, ephemeral, and enclosed in—and as—its own world. Created in the name of protecting “our most vulnerable”, the bubble in the time of COVID-19 has heightened these pre-existing social anxieties around the fourth age. The challenge, as we move into the second year of the pandemic in Australia, is to find new ways of protecting the health and wellbeing of people in later life, while creating opportunities for connection, agency and play that are supported, rather than hindered, by the COVID-19 bubble. References Australian National Dictionary Centre. “2020 Word of the Year.” Canberra: School of Literature, Languages and Linguistics, ANU College of Arts and Social Sciences, Australian National University. 17 Nov. 2020. 12 Jan. 2021 <https://slll.cass.anu.edu.au/centres/andc/news/2020-word-year>. Behuniak, Susan M. “The Living Dead? The Construction of People with Alzheimer’s Disease as Zombies.” Ageing & Society 21 (2011): 70–92. 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