Academic literature on the topic '180199 Law not elsewhere classified'

Abstract ContextLarge forest-dwelling mammals are highly sensitive to habitat structure. Thus, understanding the responses of reintroduced banteng (Bos javanicus d’Alton 1823) to their habitat is important for ensuring the sustainability of a reintroduction program. AimsThe aim of the present study was to evaluate the habitat preferences of banteng after reintroduction into the Salakphra Wildlife Sanctuary in Thailand on the basis of fieldwork conducted between January 2015 and November 2017. MethodsSeven banteng individuals bred at the Khao Nampu Nature and Wildlife Education Center were systematically reintroduced into the Salakphra Wildlife Sanctuary in 2015 (four individuals) and 2016 (three individuals). The banteng individuals were tracked via radio-collars and camera-traps. The maximum-entropy method (MaxEnt) and multiple logistic regressions (MLR) were used to identify habitat preferences. Kernel-density estimates (KDE) and a minimum convex polygon (MCP) were used to estimate the area of the habitat used. Key resultsIn total, 407 radio-signal locations showed that the MaxEnt habitat-preference models classified the banteng as associated with distance from villages and salt licks (regularised training gain of >1.0). Multiple logistic regressions form 32 camera-trap locations classified the banteng as associated with low elevations far from villages, guard stations and roads in a flat area (no aspect). The two methods for estimating habitat use provided similar results and showed that the reintroduced banteng used a wider range of habitat in the dry than in the wet season. ConclusionsThe results from the present study suggest that the reintroduced banteng individuals prefer low elevations and flat areas without human activity. ImplicationsThese findings are important for possible translocations elsewhere.

East Macedonia (northeast Greece) is a relatively small part of Greece, where a considerable number of orchid taxa occurs. Some of these orchids can only be found there and this fact makes the specific area of Greece unique. In this study, an up-to date database of orchid records was used to assess the effectiveness of the existing Natura 2000 network. Specifically, the effectiveness of the Natura 2000 network was evaluated by identifying the number of orchids whose distribution is overlapping to a lesser or greater extent with the network, which chorological categories are included/excluded from it, and whether the rare and threatened orchid taxa are adequately distributed within that. Out of the 73 orchid taxa recorded in East Macedonia so far, 14 taxa are exclusively distributed outside the Natura 2000 network. Specifically, the Natura 2000 network is not overlapped with a number of Balkan and Mediterranean orchid taxa, which are only sparsely found in East Macedonia. Moreover, most of the orchid taxa that have been classified in the threat categories of the IUCN are distributed within the Natura 2000 network of East Macedonia, and specifically, some of the most threatened ones are almost exclusively distributed within that network. Consequently, although the Natura 2000 network is not congruent with the distribution of a number of species of southern origin, which are widely distributed elsewhere in Greece, it can conserve important floristic elements of Greece, which are orchid taxa of northern or central European origin.

Bivalves play an important part in freshwater ecosystems and improve water quality; the thick-shelled river mussel Unio crassus is classified as a bioindicator. Unfortunately, the species is regarded as endangered and is under species protection in the whole of Europe. The reasons for the drastic decline of its populations are: considerable eutrophication of waters, anthropogenic influence in its broad sense and the presence of invasive species. The life cycle of U. crassus includes the stage of larva which is an obligatory parasite of fish. This makes it possible for the species to disperse and populate new territories but it limits the development to places where appropriate host species are available. Intensive measures have been taken in Poland to protect U. crassus, while in France numerous new localities of the species have been bar-coded. In 2010–2014 active protection measures were taken in southern Poland, including inventorying, studies of genetic diversity and reintroductions. The project contributed to the increase in population abundance and in the number of localities of the thick-shelled river mussel, which resulted in a twofold increase in the range of occurrence of the species in the river. The procedures presented here can and should be used in further restitution of U. crassus not only in Poland but also elsewhere in Europe.

Context. European rabbits are serious environmental and agricultural pests throughout their range in Australia. Rabbit haemorrhagic disease virus (RHDV) greatly reduced rabbit numbers in arid central Australia but had less impact in cooler, higher-rainfall areas. RHDV-like benign caliciviruses (bCVs) have been implicated in limiting the impact of RHDV in the higher-rainfall regions of Australia and also in Europe. Aims. Experimental releases of RHDV on bait were tested as a means of initiating disease outbreaks. Serological evidence of antibodies to bCVs was examined to determine whether they reduce mortality rates and/or spread of the released RHDV, and how that might influence the effectiveness of future RHDV releases for rabbit management. Methods. Four experimental releases were conducted in high-rainfall and coastal regions of southern Australia. Virus activity was implied from recapture rates and serological changes in marked rabbits, and genetic sequencing of virus recovered from dead rabbits. Changes in rabbit abundance were estimated from spotlight transect counts. Key results. Release of RHDV on bait produced disease outbreaks that challenged almost all animals within the general release area and spread up to 4 km beyond the release sites. Recapture rates were high in marked rabbits that possessed antibodies from previous exposure to RHDV and extremely low amongst rabbits that lacked any detectable antibodies. Rabbits carrying antibodies classified as being due to previous infection with bCVs had recapture rates that were dependent on circulating antibody titre and were ~55% of recapture rates in rabbits with clear antibodies to RHDV. Conclusions. This is the first quantified evidence that antibodies produced against bCVs provide significant protection against RHD outbreaks in field populations of rabbits. Implications. bCVs can greatly reduce the impact of RHDV on wild-rabbit populations in Australia and presumably elsewhere. RHDV can be effectively released on bait although further releases are likely to be of minor or inconsistent benefit for controlling rabbit numbers where bCVs are common.

Greater gliders, Petauroides volans, were radio-tracked within a large tract of forest in the dry inland of southern Queensland. This forest has been commercially logged for timber for more than 100 years. Home-range estimates ranged from 1.4 ha (female) to 19.3 ha (male). Minimum convex polygon (MCP) estimates were larger for males (average, 11.5 ha) than females (average, 3.3 ha) and combined (6.8 ha, sexes pooled) were larger than estimates from other Australian populations. Gliders were located foraging in myrtaceous tree species only, using mostly Eucalyptus moluccana, E. fibrosa and Corymbia citriodora. E. moluccana was used for foraging more frequently than would be expected on the basis of its availability in the forest. E. fibrosa and C. citriodora were used in proportion to their availability in the forest. Gliders were not seen foraging in non-myrtaceous species or myrtaceous trees <20 cm diameter at breast height (dbh), preferring trees in 30–70-cm dbh classes and as ‘mature’ and ‘over-mature’ classified according to growth-stage characteristics. Den tree species included the same species used for foraging as well as dead trees (16% of den trees). E. fibrosa and E. tereticornis were preferred significantly more than expected by their availability in the forest. Non-myrtaceous species were not used as live den trees. Large (dbh >50 cm) and old living trees (in deteriorating and senescent condition: ‘late mature’ and ‘over-mature’ categories) were primarily used as den trees. Individual gliders utilised 4–20 den trees. Females utilised more den trees per unit area of home range (3.8 den trees ha–1, maximum) than males (0.9 den trees ha–1, maximum). Fewer den trees were used per unit area of home range than by gliders at a coastal location with approximately the same latitude. The density of live stems containing hollows suitable as dens is currently lower than 1 tree ha–1 in some parts of the study forest. Gliders were two and half times less likely to be observed during standardised spotlighting surveys in the study area than elsewhere in southern Queensland. It is likely that low availability of den trees is contributing to large home ranges and the apparent low population density observed in this study.

Abstract In a recent ruling (Parry Sound (District) Social Services Administration Board v. O.P.S.E.U., Local 324, 2003 SCC 42), the Supreme Court of Canada states that an arbitrator has jurisdiction to hear a dispute that involves rights guaranteed by codes, charters and employment legislation even if the arbitrator has been barred from such recourse under a collective agreement. In the case at issue, an employee with probationary status benefited from maternity leave and was discharged upon her return. Despite the clarity of the wording under the collective agreement stating that a probationary employee may not resort to arbitration, a grievance was filed and was worded as follows: [Translation] “. . . was discharged without reason and this decision is arbitrary, discriminatory, unjust and vitiated by bad faith.” Owing to the rights vesting in the employee under the Employment Standards Act (Ontario), the Board of Arbitration ruled on its own jurisdiction to hear such a grievance. This decision was quashed in judicial review (Superior Court) and but was then upheld in Court of Appeal and once again by the Supreme Court of Canada (majority 7/9). The Supreme Court of Canada began by making several observations concerning the criteria of judgment applicable to judicial review, namely that which is considered patently unreasonable. An attempt was made to distinguish between an unreasonable decision and one that would be patently unreasonable. It seems to us that such a distinction remains ambiguous and further confuses the exercising of a fair judicial review; unreasonableness should not be graded by degrees. In a second approach, the ruling establishes the relationship between State standards (Codes, Charters and employment legislation) and contractual standards. Working from the basis that State standards would be incorporated into the collective agreement, the Court establishes that the limit imposed upon the collective agreement regarding access to arbitration had the practical effect of denying the right to maternity leave, elsewhere guaranteed by law. For this reason, the arbitrator had to intervene and exercise control in order to ensure respect for established standards of public order. To achieve these ends, the Supreme Court of Canada seemed to experience considerable difficulty in qualifying the collective agreement and classified it in the category of private contracts. Such a categorization, confined to the traditional “public/private” dichotomy, dismisses the true legal and desired effect seeking to make the collective agreement a regulatory labour provision complementary to statutes governing public order and intimately related to the latter. In support of his line of reasoning, Judge Iacobucci, on behalf of the majority (7/9), repeatedly referred to the ruling: McLeod v. Egan, [1975] 1 S.C.R. 517. The referrals denied under this ruling are hardly convincing and uselessly weigh down the reasoning. Moreover, Judge Major (dissenting) also referred to it and considered that Judge Iacobucci was reading into the McLeod v. Egan ruling a purport that it just does not have. In all, we believe that the codes, charters and employment legislation serve as the basis upon which the collective agreement is built and, consequently, the parties’ contractual freedom both derives from this basis and is limited thereto. This interrelation would be analogous to that of the Constitution and employment statutes, without it being possible to affirm that the Constitution would be found to be a part of each of these statutes. This ruling is especially interesting because it recognizes the employee’s right to resort to arbitration in order to ensure respect for guarantees stipulated in employment legislation, despite wording to the contrary in the collective agreement. Parties to collective agreements and arbitrators must therefore respectively correct their approach and grant access to arbitration for all employees from the very moment that their fundamental rights are jeopardized in any way.

As the distinction between disclosure-fuelled celebrity and lasting fame becomes difficult to discern, the “based on a true story” label has gained a particular traction among readers and viewers. This is despite much public approbation and private angst sometimes resulting from such disclosure as “little in the law or in society protects people from the consequences of others’ revelations about them” (Smith 537). Even fiction writers can stray into difficult ethical and artistic territory when they disclose the private facts of real lives—that is, recognisably biographical information—in their work, with autoethnographic fiction where authors base their fiction on their own lives (Davis and Ellis) not immune as this often discloses others’ stories (Ellis) as well. F. Scott Fitzgerald famously counselled writers to take their subjects from life and, moreover, to look to the singular, specific life, although this then had to be abstracted: “Begin with an individual, and before you know it, you find that you have created a type; begin with a type, and you find that you have created—nothing” (139). One of the problems when assessing fiction through this lens, however, is that, although many writers are inspired in their work by an actual life, event or historical period, the resulting work is usually ultimately guided by literary concerns—what writers often term the quest for aesthetic truth—rather than historical accuracy (Owen et al. 2008). In contrast, a biography is, and continues to be, by definition, an accurate account of a real persons’ life. Despite postmodern assertions regarding the relativity of truth and decades of investigation into the incorporation of fiction into biography, other non-fiction texts and research narratives (see, for instance: Wyatt), many biographers attest to still feeling irrevocably tied to the factual evidence in a way that novelists and the scriptors of biographically-based fictional television drama, movies and theatrical pieces do not (Wolpert; Murphy; Inglis). To cite a recent example, Louis Nowra’s Ice takes the life of nineteenth-century self-made entrepreneur and politician Malcolm McEacharn as its base, but never aspires to be classified as creative nonfiction, history or biography. The history in a historical novel is thus often, and legitimately, skewed or sidelined in order to achieve the most satisfying work of art, although some have argued that fiction may uniquely represent the real, as it is able to “play […] in the gap between the narratives of history and the actualities of the past” (Nelson n.p.). Fiction and non-fictional forms are, moreover, increasingly intermingling and intertwining in content and intent. The ugly word “faction” was an attempt to suggest that the two could simply be elided but, acknowledging wide-ranging debates about whether literature can represent the complexities of life with any accuracy and post-structuralist assertions that the idea of any absolute truth is outmoded, contemporary authors play with, and across, these boundaries, creating hybrid texts that consciously slide between invention and disclosure, but which publishers, critics and readers continue to define firmly as either fiction or biography. This dancing between forms is not particularly new. A striking example was Marion Halligan’s 2001 novel The Fog Garden which opens with a personal essay about the then recent death of her own much-loved husband. This had been previously published as an autobiographical memoir, “Cathedral of Love,” and again in an essay collection as “Lapping.” The protagonist of the novel is a recently widowed writer named Clare, but the inclusion of Halligan’s essay, together with the book’s marketing campaign which made much of the author’s own sadness, encourages readers to read the novel as a disclosure of the author’s own personal experience. This is despite Halligan’s attempt to keep the two separate: “Clare isn’t me. She’s like me. Some of her experience, terrors, have been mine. Some haven’t” (Fog Garden 9). In such acts of disclosure and denial, fiction and non-fiction can interrogate, test and even create each other, however quite vicious criticism can result when readers feel the boundaries demarking the two are breached. This is most common when authors admit to some dishonesty in terms of self-disclosure as can be seen, for instance, in the furore surrounding highly inflated and even wholly fabricated memoirs such as James Frey’s A Million Little Pieces, Margaret B. Jones’s Love and Consequences and Misha Defonseca’s A Mémoire of the Holocaust Years. Related problems and anxieties arise when authors move beyond incorporating and disclosing the facts of their own lives in memoir or (autobiographical) fiction, to using the lives of others in this way. Daphne Patai sums up the difference: “A person telling her life story is, in a sense, offering up her self for her own and her listener’s scrutiny […] Whether we should appropriate another’s life in this way becomes a legitimate question” (24–5). While this is difficult but seemingly manageable for non-fiction writers because of their foundational reliance on evidence, this anxiety escalates for fiction writers. This seems particularly extreme in relation to how audience expectations and prior knowledge of actual events can shape perceptions and interpretations of the resulting work, even when those events are changed and the work is declared to be one of fiction. I have discussed elsewhere, for instance, the difficult terrain of crafting fiction from well-known criminal cases (Brien, “Based on a True Story”). The reception of such work shows how difficult it is to dissociate creative product from its source material once the public and media has made this connection, no matter how distant that finished product may be from the original facts.As the field of biography continues to evolve for writers, critics and theorists, a study of one key text at a moment in that evolution—Jill Shearer’s play Georgia and its reliance on disclosing the life of artist Georgia O’Keeffe for its content and dramatic power—reveals not only some of the challenges and opportunities this close relationship offers to the writers and readers of life stories, but also the pitfalls of attempting to dissemble regarding artistic intention. This award-winning play has been staged a number of times in the past decade but has attracted little critical attention. Yet, when I attended a performance of Georgia at La Boite Theatre in Brisbane in 1999, I was moved by the production and admiring of Shearer’s writing which was, I told anyone who would listen, a powerfully dramatic interpretation of O’Keeffe’s life, one of my favourite artists. A full decade on, aspects of the work and its performance still resonate through my thinking. Author of more than twenty plays performed throughout Australia and New Zealand as well as on Broadway, Shearer was then (and is) one of Australia’s leading playwrights, and I judged Georgia to be a major, mature work: clear, challenging and confident. Reading the Currency Press script a year or so after seeing the play reinforced for me how distinctive and successful a piece of theatre Shearer had created utilising a literary technique which has been described elsewhere as fictionalised biography—biography which utilises fictional forms in its presentation but stays as close to the historical record as conventional biography (Brien, The Case of Mary Dean).The published version of the script indeed acknowledges on its title page that Georgia is “inspired by the later life of the American artist Georgia O’Keeffe” (Shearer). The back cover blurb begins with a quote attributed to O’Keeffe and then describes the content of the play entirely in terms of biographical detail: The great American artist Georgia O’Keeffe is physically, emotionally and artistically debilitated by her failing eyesight. Living amidst the Navajo spiritual landscape in her desert home in New Mexico, she becomes prey to the ghosts of her past. Her solitude is broken by Juan, a young potter, whose curious influence on her life remains until her death at 98 (Georgia back cover). This short text ends by unequivocally reinforcing the relation between the play and the artist’s life: “Georgia is a passionate play that explores with sensitivity and wry humour the contradictions and the paradoxes of the life of Georgia O’Keeffe” (Georgia back cover). These few lines of plot synopsis actually contain a surprisingly large number of facts regarding O’Keeffe’s later life. After the death of her husband (the photographer and modern art impresario Alfred Steiglitz whose ghost is a central character in the play), O’Keeffe did indeed relocate permanently to Abiquiú in New Mexico. In 1971, aged 84, she was suffering from an irreversible degenerative disease, had lost her central vision and stopped painting. One autumn day in 1973, Juan Hamilton, a young potter, appeared at her adobe house looking for work. She hired him and he became her lover, closest confidante and business manager until her death at 98. These facts form not only the background story but also much of the riveting content for Georgia which, as the published script’s introduction states, takes as its central themes: “the dilemma of the artist as a an older woman; her yearning to create against the fear of failing artistic powers; her mental strength and vulnerability; her sexuality in the face of physical deterioration; her need for companionship and the paradoxical love of solitude” (Rider vii). These issues are not only those which art historians identify as animating the O’Keeffe’s later life and painting, but ones which are discussed at length in many of the biographies of the artist published from 1980 to 2007 (see, for instance: Arrowsmith and West; Berry; Calloway and Bry; Castro; Drohojowska-Philp; Eisler; Eldredge; Harris; Hogrefe; Lisle; Peters; Reily; Robinson).Despite this clear focus on disclosing aspects of O’Keeffe’s life, both the director’s and playwright’s notes prefacing the published script declare firmly that Georgia is fiction, not biography. While accepting that these statements may be related to copyright and privacy concerns, the stridency of the denials of the biography label with its implied intention of disclosing the facts of a life, are worthy of analysis. Although noting that Georgia is “about the American artist Georgia O’Keeffe”, director of the La Boite production Sue Rider asserts that not only that the play moves “beyond the biographical” (vii) but, a few pages later, that it is “thankfully not biography” (xii). This is despite Rider’s own underscoring of the connection to O’Keeffe by setting up an exhibition of the artist’s work adjacent to the theatre. Shearer, whose research acknowledgments include a number of works about O’Keeffe, is even more overtly strident in her denial of any biographical links stating that her characters, “this Juan, Anna Marie and Dorothy Norman are a work of dramatic fiction, as is the play, and should be taken as such” (xiii).Yet, set against a reading of the biographies of the artist, including those written in the intervening decade, Georgia clearly and remarkably accurately discloses the tensions and contradictions of O’Keeffe’s life. It also draws on a significant amount of documented biographical data to enhance the dramatic power of what is disclosed by the play for audiences with this knowledge. The play does work as a coherent narrative for a viewer without any prior knowledge of O’Keeffe’s life, but the meaning of the dramatic action is enhanced by any biographical knowledge the audience possesses. In this way, the play’s act of disclosure is reinforced by this externally held knowledge. Although O’Keeffe’s oeuvre is less well known and much anecdotal detail about her life is not as familiar for Australian viewers as for those in the artist’s homeland, Shearer writes for an international as well as an Australian audience, and the program and adjacent exhibition for the Brisbane performance included biographical information. It is also worth noting that large slabs of biographical detail are also omitted from the play. These omissions to disclosure include O’Keeffe’s early life from her birth in 1887 in Wisconsin to her studies in Chicago and New York from 1904 to 1908, as well as her work as a commercial artist and art teacher in Texas and other Southern American states from 1912 to 1916. It is from this moment in 1916, however, that the play (although opening in 1946) constructs O’Keeffe’s life right through to her death in 1986 by utilising such literary devices as flashbacks, dream sequences and verbal and visual references.An indication of the level of accuracy of the play as biographical disclosure can be ascertained by unpacking the few lines of opening stage directions, “The Steiglitz’s suite in the old mid-range Shelton Hotel, New York, 1946 ... Georgia, 59, in black, enters, dragging a coffin” (1). In 1946, when O’Keeffe was indeed aged 59, Steiglitz died. The couple had lived part of every year at the Shelton Towers Hotel at 525 Lexington Avenue (now the New York Marriott East Side), a moderately priced hotel made famous by its depiction in O’Keeffe’s paintings and Steiglitz’s photographs. When Stieglitz suffered a cerebral thrombosis, O’Keeffe was spending the summer in New Mexico, but she returned to New York where her husband died on 13 July. This level of biographical accuracy continues throughout Georgia. Halfway through the first page “Anita, 52” enters. This character represents Anita Pollitzer, artist, critic and O’Keeffe’s lifelong friend. The publication of her biography of O’Keeffe, A Woman on Paper, and Georgia’s disapproval of this, is discussed in the play, as are their letters, which were collected and published in 1990 as Lovingly, Georgia (Gibiore). Anita’s first lines in the play after greeting her friend refer to this substantial correspondence: “You write beautifully. I always tell people: “I have a friend who writes the most beautiful letters” (1). In the play, as in life, it is Anita who introduces O’Keeffe’s work to Stieglitz who is, in turn, accurately described as: “Gallery owner. Two Nine One, Fifth Avenue. Leader of the New York avant-garde, the first to bring in the European moderns” (6). The play also chronicles how (unknown to O’Keeffe) Steiglitz exhibited the drawings Pollitzer gave him under the incorrect name, a scene which continues with Steiglitz persuading Georgia to allow her drawings to remain in his gallery (as he did in life) and ends with a reference to his famous photographs of her hands and nude form. Although the action of a substantial amount of real time is collapsed into a few dramatic minutes and, without doubt, the dialogue is invented, this invention achieves the level of aesthetic truth aimed for by many contemporary biographers (Jones)—as can be assessed when referring back to the accepted biographical account. What actually appears to have happened was that, in the autumn 1915, while teaching art in South Carolina, O’Keeffe was working on a series of abstract charcoal drawings that are now recognised as among the most innovative in American art of that time. She mailed some of these drawings to Pollitzer, who showed them Steiglitz, who exhibited ten of them in April 1916, O’Keeffe only learning of this through an acquaintance. O’Keeffe, who had first visited 291 in 1908 but never spoken to Stieglitz, held his critical opinion in high regard, and although confronting him over not seeking her permission and citing her name incorrectly, eventually agreed to let her drawings hang (Harris). Despite Shearer’s denial, the other characters in Georgia are also largely biographical sketches. Her “Anna Marie”, who never appears in the play but is spoken of, is Juan’s wife (in real life Anna Marie Hamilton), and “Dorothy Norman” is the character who has an affair with Steiglitz—the discovery of which leads to Georgia’s nervous breakdown in the play. In life, while O’Keeffe was in New Mexico, Stieglitz became involved with the much younger Norman who was, he claimed, only his gallery assistant. When O’Keeffe discovered Norman posing nude for her husband (this is vividly imagined in Georgia), O’Keeffe moved out of the Shelton and suffered from the depression that led to her nervous breakdown. “ Juan,” who ages from 26 to 39 in the play, represents the potter Juan Hamilton who encouraged the nearly blind O’Keeffe to paint again. In the biographical record there is much conjecture about Hamilton’s motives, and Shearer sensitively portrays her interpretation of this liaison and the difficult territory of sexual desire between a man and a much older woman, as she also too discloses the complex relationship between O’Keeffe and the much older Steiglitz.This complexity is described through the action of the play, but its disclosure is best appreciated if the biographical data is known. There are also a number of moments of biographical disclosure in the play that can only be fully understood with biographical knowledge in hand. For instance, Juan refers to Georgia’s paintings as “Beautiful, sexy flowers [... especially] the calla lilies” (24). All attending the play are aware (from the exhibition, program and technical aspects of the production) that, in life, O’Keeffe was famous for her flower paintings. However, knowing that these had brought her fame and fortune early in her career with, in 1928, a work titled Calla Lily selling for U.S. $25,000, then an enormous sum for any living American artist, adds to the meaning of this line in the play. Conversely, the significant level of biographical disclosure throughout Georgia does not diminish, in any way, the power or integrity of Shearer’s play as a literary work. Universal literary (and biographical) themes—love, desire and betrayal—animate Georgia; Steiglitz’s spirit haunts Georgia years after his death and much of the play’s dramatic energy is generated by her passion for both her dead husband and her younger lover, with some of her hopeless desire sublimated through her relationship with Juan. Nadia Wheatley reads such a relationship between invention and disclosure in terms of myth—relating how, in the process of writing her biography of Charmain Clift, she came to see Clift and her husband George Johnson take on a larger significance than their individual lives: “They were archetypes; ourselves writ large; experimenters who could test and try things for us; legendary figures through whom we could live vicariously” (5). In this, Wheatley finds that “while myth has no real beginning or end, it also does not bother itself with cause and effect. Nor does it worry about contradictions. Parallel tellings are vital to the fabric” (5). In contrast with both Rider and Shearer’s insistence that Georgia was “not biography”, it could be posited that (at least part of) Georgia’s power arises from the creation of such mythic value, and expressly through its nuanced disclosure of the relevant factual (biographical) elements in parallel to the development of its dramatic (invented) elements. Alongside this, accepting Georgia as such a form of biographical disclosure would mean that as well as a superbly inventive creative work, the highly original insights Shearer offers to the mass of O’Keeffe biography—something of an American industry—could be celebrated, rather than excused or denied. ReferencesArrowsmith, Alexandra, and Thomas West, eds. Georgia O’Keeffe & Alfred Stieglitz: Two Lives—A Conversation in Paintings and Photographs. Washington DC: HarperCollins and Calloway Editions, and The Phillips Collection, 1992.Berry, Michael. Georgia O’Keeffe. New York: Chelsea House, 1988.Brien, Donna Lee. The Case of Mary Dean: Sex, Poisoning and Gender Relations in Australia. Unpublished PhD Thesis. Queensland University of Technology, 2004. –––. “‘Based on a True Story’: The Problem of the Perception of Biographical Truth in Narratives Based on Real Lives”. TEXT: Journal of Writers and Writing Programs 13.2 (Oct. 2009). 19 Oct. 2009 < http://www.textjournal.com.au >.Calloway, Nicholas, and Doris Bry, eds. Georgia O’Keeffe in the West. New York: Knopf, 1989.Castro, Jan G. The Art and Life of Georgia O’Keeffe. New York: Crown Publishing, Random House, 1985.Davis, Christine S., and Carolyn Ellis. “Autoethnographic Introspection in Ethnographic Fiction: A Method of Inquiry.” In Pranee Liamputtong and Jean Rumbold, eds. Knowing Differently: Arts-Based and Collaborative Research. New York: Nova Science, 2008. 99–117.Defonseca, Misha. Misha: A Mémoire of the Holocaust Years. Bluebell, PA: Mt. Ivy Press, 1997.Drohojowska-Philp, Hunter. Full Bloom: The Art and Life of Georgia O’Keeffe. New York: WW Norton, 2004.Ellis, Carolyn. “Telling Secrets, Revealing Lives: Relational Ethics in Research with Intimate Others.” Qualitative Inquiry 13.1 (2007): 3–29. Eisler, Benita. O’Keeffe and Stieglitz: An American Romance. New York: Doubleday, 1991.Eldredge, Charles C. Georgia O’Keeffe: American and Modern. New Haven: Yale UP, 1993.Fitzgerald, F. Scott. The Diamond as Big as the Ritz and Other Stories. Harmondsworth, U.K.: Penguin, 1962.Frey, James. A Million Little Pieces. New York: N.A. Talese/Doubleday, 2003.Gibiore, Clive, ed. Lovingly, Georgia. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1990.Halligan, Marion. “Lapping.” In Peter Craven, ed. Best Australian Essays. Melbourne: Bookman P, 1999. 208–13.Halligan, Marion. The Fog Garden. Sydney: Allen and Unwin, 2001.Halligan, Marion. “The Cathedral of Love.” The Age 27 Nov. 1999: Saturday Extra 1.Harris, J. C. “Georgia O’Keeffe at 291”. Archives of General Psychiatry 64.2 (Feb. 2007): 135–37.Hogrefe, Jeffrey. 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Adams, and Alisha Vitale. “Truth Troubles.” Qualitative Inquiry 15.1 (2008): 178–200.Patai, Daphne. “Ethical Problems of Personal Narratives, or, Who Should Eat the Last Piece of Cake.” International Journal of Oral History 8 (1987): 5–27.Peters, Sarah W. Becoming O’Keeffe. New York: Abbeville Press, 1991.Pollitzer, Anita. A Woman on Paper. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1988.Reily, Nancy Hopkins. Georgia O’Keeffe. A Private Friendship, Part II. Santa Fe, NM: Sunstone Press, 2009.Rider, Sue. “Director’s Note.” Georgia [playscript]. Sydney: Currency Press, 2000. vii–xii.Robinson, Roxana. Georgia O’Keeffe: A Life. London: Bloomsbury Publishing, 1990. Shearer, Jill. Georgia [playscript]. Sydney: Currency Press, 2000.Smith, Thomas R. “How Our Lives Become Stories: Making Selves [review]”. Biography 23.3 (2000): 534–38.Wheatley, Nadia. The Life and Myth of Charmian Clift. Sydney: Flamingo, 2001.Wolpert, Stanley. “Biography as History: A Personal Reflection”. 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This paper argues that artist Dope Saint Jude is transforming South African hip-hop by queering a genre that has predominantly been male and heteronormative. Specifically, I analyse the opening skit of her music video “Keep in Touch” in order to unpack the ways which she revives Gayle, a gay language that adopted double-coded forms of speech during the apartheid era—a context in which homosexuals were criminalised. The use of Gayle and spaces close to the city centre of Cape Town (such as Salt River and Woodstock) speaks to the city as it was before it was transformed by the decline of industries due to the country’s adoption of neoliberal economics and, more recently, by the gentrification of these spaces. Dope Saint Jude therefore reclaims these city spaces through her use of gay modes of speech that have a long history in Cape Town and by positioning her work as hip-hop, which has been popular in the city for well over two decades. Her inclusion of transgender MC and DJ Angel Ho pushes the boundaries of hegemonic and binary conceptions of gender identity even further. In essence, Dope Saint Jude is transforming local hip-hop in a context that is shaped significantly by US cultural imperialism. The artist is also transforming our perspective of spaces that have been altered by neoliberal economics.Setting the SceneDope Saint Jude (DSJ) is a queer MC from Elsies River, a working class township located on Cape Town's Cape Flats in South Africa. Elsies River was defined as a “coloured” neighbourhood under the apartheid state's Group Areas Act, which segregated South Africans racially. With the aid of the Population Registration Act, citizens were classified, not merely along the lines of white, Asian, or black—black subjects were also divided into further categories. The apartheid state also distinguished between black and “coloured” subjects. Michael MacDonald contends that segregation “ordained blacks to be inferior to whites; apartheid cast them to be indelibly different” (11). Apartheid declared “African claims in South Africa to be inferior to white claims” and effectively claimed that black subjects “belonged elsewhere, in societies of their own, because their race was different” (ibid). The term “coloured” defined people as “mixed race” to separate communities that might otherwise have identified as black in the broad and inclusive sense (Erasmus 16). Racial categorisation was used to create a racial hierarchy with white subjects at the top of that hierarchy and those classified as black receiving the least resources and benefits. This frustrated attempts to establish broad alliances of black struggles against apartheid. It is in this sense that race is socially and politically constructed and continues to have currency, despite the fact that biologically essentialist understandings of race have been discredited (Yudell 13–14). Thanks to apartheid town planning and resource allocation, many townships on the Cape Flats were poverty-stricken and plagued by gang violence (Salo 363). This continues to be the case because post-apartheid South Africa's embrace of neoliberal economics failed to address racialised class inequalities significantly (Haupt, Static 6–8). This is the '90s context in which socially conscious hip-hop crews, such as Prophets of da City or Black Noise, came together. They drew inspiration from Black Consciousness philosophy via their exposure to US hip-hop crews such as Public Enemy in order to challenge apartheid policies, including their racial interpellation as “coloured” as distinct from the more inclusive category, black (Haupt, “Black Thing” 178). Prophets of da City—whose co-founding member, Shaheen Ariefdien, also lived in Elsies River—was the first South African hip-hop outfit to record an album. Whilst much of their work was performed in English, they quickly transformed the genre by rapping in non-standard varieties of Afrikaans and by including MCs who rap in African languages (ibid). They therefore succeeded in addressing key issues related to race, language, and class disparities in relation to South Africa's transition to democracy (Haupt, “Black Thing”; Haupt, Stealing Empire). However, as is the case with mainstream US hip-hop, specifically gangsta rap (Clay 149), South African hip-hop has been largely dominated by heterosexual men. This includes the more commercial hip-hop scene, which is largely perceived to be located in Johannesburg, where male MCs like AKA and Cassper Nyovest became celebrities. However, certain female MCs have claimed the genre, notably EJ von Lyrik and Burni Aman who are formerly of Godessa, the first female hip-hop crew to record and perform locally and internationally (Haupt, Stealing Empire 166; Haupt, “Can a Woman in Hip-Hop”). DSJ therefore presents the exception to a largely heteronormative and male-dominated South African music industry and hip-hop scene as she transforms it with her queer politics. While queer hip-hop is not new in the US (Pabón and Smalls), this is new territory for South Africa. Writing about the US MC Jean Grae in the context of a “male-dominated music industry and genre,” Shanté Paradigm Smalls contends,Heteronormativity blocks the materiality of the experiences of Black people. Yet, many Black people strive for a heteronormative effect if not “reality”. In hip hop, there is a particular emphasis on maintaining the rigidity of categories, even if those categories fail [sic]. (87) DSJ challenges these rigid categories. Keep in TouchDSJ's most visible entry onto the media landscape to date has been her appearance in an H&M recycling campaign with British Sri Lankan artist MIA (H&M), some fashion shoots, her new EP—Reimagine (Dope Saint Jude)—and recent Finnish, US and French tours as well as her YouTube channel, which features her music videos. As the characters’ theatrical costumes suggest, “Keep in Touch” is possibly the most camp and playful music video she has produced. It commences somewhat comically with Dope Saint Jude walking down Salt River main road to a public telephone, where she and a young woman in pig tails exchange dirty looks. Salt River is located at the foot of Devil's Peak not far from Cape Town's CBD. Many factories were located there, but the area is also surrounded by low-income housing, which was designated a “coloured” area under apartheid. After apartheid, neighbourhoods such as Salt River, Woodstock, and the Bo-Kaap became increasingly gentrified and, instead of becoming more inclusive, many parts of Cape Town continued to be influenced by policies that enable racialised inequalities. Dope Saint Jude calls Angel Ho: DSJ: Awêh, Angie! Yoh, you must check this kak sturvy girl here by the pay phone. [Turns to the girl, who walks away as she bursts a chewing gum bubble.] Ja, you better keep in touch. Anyway, listen here, what are you wys?Angel Ho: Ah, just at the salon getting my hair did. What's good? DSJ: Wanna catch on kak today?Angel Ho: Yes, honey. But, first, let me Gayle you this. By the jol by the art gallery, this Wendy, nuh. This Wendy tapped me on the shoulder and wys me, “This is a place of decorum.”DSJ: What did she wys?Angel Ho: De-corum. She basically told me this is not your house. DSJ: I know you told that girl to keep in touch!Angel Ho: Yes, Mama! I'm Paula, I told that bitch, “Keep in touch!” [Points index finger in the air.](Saint Jude, Dope, “Keep in Touch”)Angel Ho's name is a play on the male name Angelo and refers to the trope of the ho (whore) in gangsta rap lyrics and in music videos that present objectified women as secondary to male, heterosexual narratives (Sharpley-Whiting 23; Collins 27). The queering of Angelo, along with Angel Ho’s non-binary styling in terms of hair, make-up, and attire, appropriates a heterosexist, sexualised stereotype of women in order to create room for a gender identity that operates beyond heteronormative male-female binaries. Angel Ho’s location in a hair salon also speaks to stereotypical associations of salons with women and gay subjects. In a discussion of gender stereotypes about hair salons, Kristen Barber argues that beauty work has traditionally been “associated with women and with gay men” and that “the body beautiful has been tightly linked to the concept of femininity” (455–56). During the telephonic exchange, Angel Ho and Dope Saint Jude code-switch between standard and non-standard varieties of English and Afrikaans, as the opening appellation, “Awêh,” suggests. In this context, the term is a friendly greeting, which intimates solidarity. “Sturvy” means pretentious, whilst “kak” means shit, but here it is used to qualify “sturvy” and means that the girl at the pay phone is very pretentious or “full of airs.” To be “wys” means to be wise, but it can also mean that you are showing someone something or educating them. The meanings of these terms shift, depending on the context. The language practices in this skit are in line with the work of earlier hip-hop crews, such as Prophets of da City and Brasse vannie Kaap, to validate black, multilingual forms of speech and expression that challenge the linguistic imperialism of standard English and Afrikaans in South Africa, which has eleven official languages (Haupt, “Black Thing”; Haupt, Stealing Empire; Williams). Henry Louis Gates’s research on African American speech varieties and literary practices emerging from the repressive context of slavery is essential to understanding hip-hop’s language politics. Hip-hop artists' multilingual wordplay creates parallel discursive universes that operate both on the syntagmatic axis of meaning-making and the paradigmatic axis (Gates 49; Haupt, “Stealing Empire” 76–77). Historically, these discursive universes were those of the slave masters and the slaves, respectively. While white hegemonic meanings are produced on the syntagmatic axis (which is ordered and linear), black modes of speech as seen in hip-hop word play operate on the paradigmatic axis, which is connotative and non-linear (ibid). Distinguishing between Signifyin(g) / Signification (upper case, meaning black expression) and signification (lower case, meaning white dominant expression), he argues that “the signifier ‘Signification’ has remained identical in spelling to its white counterpart to demonstrate [. . .] that a simultaneous, but negated, parallel discursive (ontological, political) universe exists within the larger white discursive universe” (Gates 49). The meanings of terms and expressions can change, depending on the context and manner in which they are used. It is therefore the shared experiences of speech communities (such as slavery or racist/sexist oppression) that determine the negotiated meanings of certain forms of expression. Gayle as a Parallel Discursive UniverseDSJ and Angel Ho's performance of Gayle takes these linguistic practices further. Viewers are offered points of entry into Gayle via the music video’s subtitles. We learn that Wendy is code for a white person and that to keep in touch means exactly the opposite. Saint Jude explains that Gayle is a very fun queer language that was used to kind of mask what people were saying [. . .] It hides meanings and it makes use of women's names [. . . .] But the thing about Gayle is it's constantly changing [. . .] So everywhere you go, you kind of have to pick it up according to the context that you're in. (Ovens, Saint Jude and Haupt)According to Kathryn Luyt, “Gayle originated as Moffietaal [gay language] in the coloured gay drag culture of the Western Cape as a form of slang amongst Afrikaans-speakers which over time, grew into a stylect used by gay English and Afrikaans-speakers across South Africa” (Luyt 8; Cage 4). Given that the apartheid state criminalised homosexuals, Gayle was coded to evade detection and to seek out other members of this speech community (Luyt 8). Luyt qualifies the term “language” by arguing, “The term ‘language’ here, is used not as a constructed language with its own grammar, syntax, morphology and phonology, but in the same way as linguists would discuss women’s language, as a way of speaking, a kind of sociolect” (Luyt 8; Cage 1). However, the double-coded nature of Gayle allows one to think of it as creating a parallel discursive universe as Gates describes it (49). Whereas African American and Cape Flats discursive practices function parallel to white, hegemonic discourses, gay modes of speech run parallel to heteronormative communication. Exclusion and MicroaggressionsThe skit brings both discursive practices into play by creating room for one to consider that DSJ queers a male-dominated genre that is shaped by US cultural imperialism (Haupt, Stealing Empire 166) as a way of speaking back to intersectional forms of marginalisation (Crenshaw 1244), which are created by “white supremacist capitalist patriarchy” (hooks 116). This is significant in South Africa where “curative rape” of lesbians and other forms of homophobic violence are prominent (cf. Gqola; Hames; Msibi). Angel Ho's anecdote conveys a sense of the extent to which black individuals are subject to scrutiny. Ho's interpretation of the claim that the gallery “is a place of decorum” is correct: it is not Ho's house. Black queer subjects are not meant to feel at home or feel a sense of ownership. This functions as a racial microaggression: “subtle insults (verbal, nonverbal, and/or visual) directed toward people of color, often automatically or unconsciously” (Solorzano, Ceja, and Yosso 60). This speaks to DSJ's use of Salt River, Woodstock, and Bo-Kaap for the music video, which features black queer bodies in performance—all of these spaces are being gentrified, effectively pushing working class people of colour out of the city (cf. Didier, Morange, and Peyroux; Lemanski). Gustav Visser explains that gentrification has come to mean a unit-by-unit acquisition of housing which replaces low-income residents with high-income residents, and which occurs independent of the structural condition, architecture, tenure or original cost level of the housing (although it is usually renovated for or by the new occupiers). (81–82) In South Africa this inequity plays out along racial lines because its neoliberal economic policies created a small black elite without improving the lives of the black working class. Instead, the “new African bourgeoisie, because it shares racial identities with the bulk of the poor and class interests with white economic elites, is in position to mediate the reinforcing cleavages between rich whites and poor blacks without having to make more radical changes” (MacDonald 158). In a news article about a working class Salt River family of colour’s battle against an eviction, Christine Hogg explains, “Gentrification often means the poor are displaced as the rich move in or buildings are upgraded by new businesses. In Woodstock and Salt River both are happening at a pace.” Angel Ho’s anecdote, as told from a Woodstock hair salon, conveys a sense of what Woodstock’s transformation from a coloured, working class Group Area to an upmarket, trendy, and arty space would mean for people of colour, including black, queer subjects. One could argue that this reading of the video is undermined by DSJ’s work with global brand H&M. Was she was snared by neoliberal economics? Perhaps, but one response is that the seeds of any subculture’s commercial co-option lie in the fact it speaks through commodities (for example clothing, make-up, CDs, vinyl, or iTunes / mp3 downloads (Hebdige 95; Haupt, Stealing Empire 144–45). Subcultures have a window period in which to challenge hegemonic ideologies before they are delegitimated or commercially co-opted. Hardt and Negri contend that the means that extend the reach of corporate globalisation could be used to challenge it from within it (44–46; Haupt, Stealing Empire 26). DSJ utilises her H&M work, social media, the hip-hop genre, and international networks to exploit that window period to help mainstream black queer identity politics.ConclusionDSJ speaks back to processes of exclusion from the city, which was transformed by apartheid and, more recently, gentrification, by claiming it as a creative and playful space for queer subjects of colour. She uses Gayle to lay claim to the city as it has a long history in Cape Town. In fact, she says that she is not reviving Gayle, but is simply “putting it on a bigger platform” (Ovens, Saint Jude, and Haupt). The use of subtitles in the video suggests that she wants to mainstream queer identity politics. Saint Jude also transforms hip-hop heteronormativity by queering the genre and by locating her work within the history of Cape hip-hop’s multilingual wordplay. ReferencesBarber, Kristin. “The Well-Coiffed Man: Class, Race, and Heterosexual Masculinity in the Hair Salon.” Gender and Society 22.4 (2008): 455–76.Cage, Ken. “An Investigation into the Form and Function of Language Used by Gay Men in South Africa.” Rand Afrikaans University: MA thesis, 1999.Clay, Andreana. “‘I Used to Be Scared of the Dick’: Queer Women of Color and Hip-Hop Masculinity.” Home Girls Make Some Noise: Hip Hop Feminism Anthology. Ed. Gwendolyn D. Pough, Elain Richardson, Aisha Durham, and Rachel Raimist. California: Sojourns, 2007.Collins, Patricia Hill. Black Sexual Politics: African Americans, Gender, and the New Racism. New York: Routledge, 2005. Crenshaw, Kimberle. “Mapping the Margins: Intersectionality, Identity Politics, and Violence against Women of Color”. Stanford Law Review 43.6 (1991): 1241–299.Didier, Sophie, Marianne Morange, and Elisabeth Peyroux. “The Adaptative Nature of Neoliberalism at the Local Scale: Fifteen Years of City Improvement Districts in Cape Town and Johannesburg.” Antipode 45.1 (2012): 121–39.Erasmus, Zimitri. “Introduction.” Coloured by History, Shaped by Place. Ed. Zimitri Erasmus. Cape Town: Kwela Books & SA History Online, 2001. Gates, Henry Louis. The Signifying Monkey: A Theory of Afro-American Literary Criticism. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1988.Gqola, Pumla Dineo. Rape: A South African Nightmare. Johannesburg: Jacana, 2015.Hames, Mary. “Violence against Black Lesbians: Minding Our Language.” Agenda 25.4 (2011): 87–91.Hardt, Michael, and Antonio Negri. Empire. London: Harvard UP, 2000.Haupt, Adam. “Can a Woman in Hip Hop Speak on Her Own Terms?” Africa Is a Country. 23 Mar. 2015. <http://africasacountry.com/2015/03/the-double-consciousness-of-burni-aman-can-a-woman-in-hip-hop-speak-on-her-own-terms/>.Haupt, Adam. Static: Race & Representation in Post-Apartheid Music, Media & Film. Cape Town: HSRC Press, 2012. Haupt, Adam. Stealing Empire: P2P, Intellectual Property and Hip-Hop Subversion. Cape Town: HSRC Press, 2008. Haupt, Adam. “Black Thing: Hip-Hop Nationalism, ‘Race’ and Gender in Prophets of da City and Brasse vannie Kaap.” Coloured by History, Shaped by Place. Ed. Zimitri Erasmus. Cape Town: Kwela Books & SA History Online, 2001. Hebdige, Dick. Subculture: The Meaning of Style. London: Routledge, 1979.Hogg, Christine. “In Salt River Gentrification Often Means Eviction: Family Set to Lose Their Home of 11 Years.” Ground Up. 15 June 2016. <http://www.groundup.org.za/article/salt-river-gentrification-often-means-eviction/>.hooks, bell. Outlaw: Culture: Resisting Representations. New York: Routledge, 1994.Lemanski, Charlotte. “Hybrid Gentrification in South Africa: Theorising across Southern and Northern Cities.” Urban Studies 51.14 (2014): 2943–60.Luyt, Kathryn. “Gay Language in Cape Town: A Study of Gayle – Attitudes, History and Usage.” University of Cape Town: MA thesis, 2014.MacDonald, Michael. Why Race Matters in South Africa. University of Kwazulu-Natal Press: Scottsville, 2006.Msibi, Thabo. “Not Crossing the Line: Masculinities and Homophobic Violence in South Africa”. Agenda. 23.80 (2009): 50–54.Pabón, Jessica N., and Shanté Paradigm Smalls. “Critical Intimacies: Hip Hop as Queer Feminist Pedagogy.” Women & Performance: A Journal of Feminist Theory (2014): 1–7.Salo, Elaine. “Negotiating Gender and Personhood in the New South Africa: Adolescent Women and Gangsters in Manenberg Township on the Cape Flats.” Journal of European Cultural Studies 6.3 (2003): 345–65.Solórzano, Daniel, Miguel Ceja, and Tara Yosso. “Critical Race Theory, Racial Microaggressions, and Campus Racial Climate: The Experiences of African American College Students.” Journal of Negro Education 69.1/2 (2000): 60–73.Sharpley-Whiting, T. Denean. Pimps Up, Ho’s Down: Hip Hop’s Hold on Young Black Women. New York: New York UP, 2007.Smalls, Shanté Paradigm. “‘The Rain Comes Down’: Jean Grae and Hip Hop Heteronormativity.” American Behavioral Scientist 55.1 (2011): 86–95.Visser, Gustav. “Gentrification: Prospects for Urban South African Society?” Acta Academica Supplementum 1 (2003): 79–104.Williams, Quentin E. “Youth Multilingualism in South Africa’s Hip-Hop Culture: a Metapragmatic Analysis.” Sociolinguistic Studies 10.1 (2016): 109–33.Yudell, Michael. “A Short History of the Race Concept.” Race and the Genetic Revolution: Science, Myth, and Culture. Ed. Sheldon Krimsky and Kathleen Sloan. New York: Columbia UP, 2011.InterviewsOvens, Neil, Dope Saint Jude, and Adam Haupt. One FM Radio interview. Cape Town. 21 Apr. 2016.VideosSaint Jude, Dope. “Keep in Touch.” YouTube. 23 Feb. 2015. <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w2ux9R839lE>. H&M. “H&M World Recycle Week Featuring M.I.A.” YouTube. 11 Apr. 2016. <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f7MskKkn2Jg>. MusicSaint Jude, Dope. Reimagine. 15 June 2016. <https://dopesaintjude.bandcamp.com/album/reimagine>.

Story spreads out through time the behaviors or bodies – the shapes – a self has been or will be, each replacing the one before. Hence a story has before and after, gain and loss. It goes somewhere…Moreover, shape or body is crucial, not incidental, to story. It carries story; it makes story visible; in a sense it is story. Shape (or visible body) is in space what story is in time. (Bynum, quoted in Garland Thomson, 113-114) Drawing on Goffman’s classic work on stigma, research documenting the existence of discrimination and bias against individuals classified as obese goes back five decades. Since Cahnman published “The Stigma of Obesity” in 1968, other researchers have well documented systematic and growing discrimination against fat people (cf. Puhl and Brownell; Puhl and Heuer; Puhl and Heuer; Fikkan and Rothblum). While weight-based stereotyping has a long history (Chang and Christakis; McPhail; Schwartz), contemporary forms of anti-fat stigma and discrimination must be understood within a social and economic context of neoliberal healthism. By neoliberal healthism (see Crawford; Crawford; Metzel and Kirkland), I refer to the set of discourses that suggest that humans are rational, self-determining actors who independently make their own best choices and are thus responsible for their life chances and health outcomes. In such a context, good health becomes associated with proper selfhood, and there are material and social consequences for those who either unwell or perceived to be unwell. While the greatest impacts of size-based discrimination are structural in nature, the interpersonal impacts are also significant. Because obesity is commonly represented (at least partially) as a matter of behavioral choices in public health, medicine, and media, to “remain fat” is to invite commentary from others that one is lacking in personal responsibility. Guthman suggests that this lack of empathy “also stems from the growing perception that obesity presents a social cost, made all the more tenable when the perception of health responsibility has been reversed from a welfare model” (1126). Because weight loss is commonly held to be a reasonable and feasible goal and yet is nearly impossible to maintain in practice (Kassierer and Angell; Mann et al.; Puhl and Heuer), fat people are “in effect, asked to do the impossible and then socially punished for failing” (Greenhalgh, 474). In this article, I explore how weight-based stigma shaped the decisions of bariatric patients to undergo weight loss surgery. In doing so, I underline the work that emotion does in circulating anti-fat stigma and in creating categories of subjects along lines of health and responsibility. As well, I highlight how fat bodies are lived and negotiated in space and place. I then explore ways in which participants take up notions of time, specifically in regard to risk, in discussing what brought them to the decision to have bariatric surgery. I conclude by arguing that it is a dynamic interaction between the material, social, emotional, discursive, and the temporal that produces not only fat embodiment, but fat subjectivity “failed”, and serves as an impetus for seeking bariatric surgery. Methods This article is based on 30 semi-structured interviews with American bariatric patients. At the time of the interview, individuals were between six months and 12 years out from surgery. After obtaining Intuitional Review Board approval, recruitment occurred through a snowball sample. All interviews were audio-taped with permission and verbatim interview transcripts were analyzed by means of a thematic analysis using Dedoose (www.dedoose.com). All names given in this article are pseudonyms. This work is part of a larger project that includes two additional interviews with bariatric surgeons as well as participant-observation research. Findings Navigating Anti-Fat Stigma In discussing what it was like to be fat, all but one of the individuals I interviewed discussed experiencing substantive size-based stigma and discrimination. Whether through overt comments, indirect remarks, dirty looks, open gawking, or being ignored and unrecognized, participants felt hurt, angry, and shamed by friends, family, coworkers, medical providers, and strangers on the street because of the size of their bodies. Several recalled being bullied and even physically assaulted by peers as children. Many described the experience of being fat or very fat as one of simultaneous hypervisibility and invisibility. One young woman, Kaia, said: “I absolutely was not treated like a person … . I was just like this object to people. Just this big, you know, thing. That’s how people treated me.” Nearly all of my participants described being told repeatedly by others, including medical professionals, that their inability to lose weight was effectively a failure of the will. They found these comments to be particularly hurtful because, in fact, they had spent years, even decades, trying to lose weight only to gain the weight back plus more. Some providers and family members seemed to take up the idea that shame could be a motivating force in weight loss. However, as research by Lewis et al.; Puhl and Huerer; and Schafer and Ferraro has demonstrated, the effect this had was the opposite of what was intended. Specifically, a number of the individuals I spoke with delayed care and avoided health-facilitating behaviors, like exercising, because of the discrimination they had experienced. Instead, they turned to health-harming practices, like crash dieting. Moreover, the internalization of shame and blame served to lower a sense of self-worth for many participants. And despite having a strong sense that something outside of personal behavior explained their escalating body weights, they deeply internalized messages about responsibility and self-control. Danielle, for instance, remarked: “Why could the one thing I want the most be so impossible for me to maintain?” It is important to highlight the work that emotion does in circulating such experiences of anti-fat stigma and discrimination. As Fraser et al have argued in their discussion on fat and emotion, the social, the emotional, and the corporeal cannot be separated. Drawing on Ahmed, they argue that strong emotions are neither interior psychological states that work between individuals nor societal states that impact individuals. Rather, emotions are constitutive of subjects and collectivities, (Ahmed; Fraser et al.). Negative emotions in particular, such as hate and fear, produce categories of people, by defining them as a common threat and, in the process, they also create categories of people who are deemed legitimate and those who are not. Thus following Fraser et al, it is possible to see that anti-fat hatred did more than just negatively impact the individuals I spoke with. Rather, it worked to produce, differentiate, and drive home categories of people along lines of health, weight, risk, responsibility, and worth. In this next section, I examine the ways in which anti-fat discrimination works at the interface of not only the discursive and the emotive, but the material as well. Big Bodies, Small Spaces When they discussed their previous lives as very fat people, all of the participants made reference to a social and built environment mismatch, or in Garland Thomson’s terms, a “misfit”. A misfit occurs “when the environment does not sustain the shape and function of the body that enters it” (594). Whereas the built environment offers a fit for the majority of bodies, Garland Thomson continues, it also creates misfits for minority forms of embodiment. While Garland Thomson’s analysis is particular to disability, I argue that it extends to fat embodiment as well. In discussing what it was like to navigate the world as fat, participants described both the physical and emotional pain entailed in living in bodies that did not fit and frequently discussed the ways in which leaving the house was always a potential, anxiety-filled problem. Whereas all of the participants I interviewed discussed such misfitting, it was notable that participants in the Greater New York City area (70% of the sample) spoke about this topic at length. Specifically, they made frequent and explicit mentions of the particular interface between their fat bodies and the Metropolitan Transit Authority (MTA), and the tightly packed spaces of the city itself. Greater New York City area participants frequently spoke of the shame and physical discomfort in having to stand on public transportation for fear that they would be openly disparaged for “taking up too much room.” Some mentioned that transit seats were made of molded plastic, indicating by design the amount of space a body should occupy. Because they knew they would require more space than what was allotted, these participants only took seats after calculating how crowded the subway or train car was and how crowded it would likely become. Notably, the decision to not take a seat was one that was made at a cost for some of the larger individuals who experienced joint pain. Many participants stated that the densely populated nature of New York City made navigating daily life very challenging. In Talia’s words, “More people, more obstacles, less space.” Participants described always having to be on guard, looking for the next obstacle. As Candice put it: “I would walk in some place and say, ‘Will I be able to fit? Will I be able to manoeuvre around these people and not bump into them?’ I was always self-conscious.” Although participants often found creative solutions to navigating the hostile environment of both the MTA and the city at large, they also identified an increasing sense of isolation that resulted from the physical discomfort and embarrassment of not fitting in. For instance, Talia rarely joined her partner and their friends on outings to movies or the theater because the seats were too tight. Similarly, Decenia would make excuses to her husband in order to avoid social situations outside of the home: “I’d say to my husband, ‘I don’t feel well, you go.’ But you know what? It was because I was afraid not to fit, you know?” The anticipatory scrutinizing described by these participants, and the anxieties it produced, echoes Kirkland’s contention that fat individuals use the technique of ‘scanning’ in order to navigate and manage hostile social and built environments. Scanning, she states, involves both literally rapidly looking over situations and places to determine accessibility, as well as a learned assessment and observation technique that allows fat people to anticipate how they will be received in new situations and new places. For my participants, worries about not fitting were more than just internal calculation. Rather, others made all too clear that fat bodies are not welcome. Nina recalled nasty looks she received from other subway riders when she attempted to sit down. Decenia described an experience on a crowded commuter train in which the woman next to her openly expressed annoyance and disgust that their thighs were touching. Talia recalled being aggressively handed a weight loss brochure by a fellow passenger. When asked to contrast their experiences living in New York City with having travelled or lived elsewhere, participants almost universally described the New York as a more difficult place to live for fat people. However, the experiences of three of the Latinas that I interviewed troubled this narrative. Katrina felt that the harassment she received in her country of origin, the Dominican Republic, was far worse than what she now experienced in the New York Metropolitan Area. Although Decenia detailed painful experiences of anti-fat stigma in New York City, she nevertheless described her life as relatively “easy” compared to what it was like in her home country of Brazil. And Denisa contrasted her neighbourhood of East Harlem with other parts of Manhattan: “In Harlem it's different. Everybody is really fat or plump – so you feel a bit more comfortable. Not everybody, but there's a mix. Downtown – there's no mix.” Collectively, their stories serve as a reminder (see Franko et al.; Grabe and Hyde) to be suspicious of over determined accounts that “Latino culture” is (or people of colour communities in general are), more accepting of larger bodies and more resistant to weight-based stigma and discrimination. Their comments also reflect arguments made by Colls, Grosz, and Garland Thomson, who have all pointed to the contingent nature between space and bodies. Colls argue that sizing is both a material and an emotional process – what size we take ourselves to be shifts in different physical and emotional contexts. Grosz suggests that there is a “mutually constitutive relationship between bodies and cities” – one that, I would add, is raced, classed, and gendered. Garland Thomson has described the relationship between bodies and space/place as “a dynamic encounter between world and flesh.” These encounters, she states, are always contingent and situated: “When the spatial and temporal context shifts, so does the fit, and with it meanings and consequences” (592). In this sense, fat is materialized differently in different contexts and in different scales – nation, state, city, neighbourhood – and the materialization of fatness is always entangled with raced, classed, and gendered social and political-economic relations. Nevertheless, it is possible to draw some structural commonalities between divergent parts of the Greater New York City Metropolitan Area. Specifically, a dense population, cramped physical spaces, inaccessible transportation and transportation funding cuts, social norms of fast paced life, and elite, raced, classed, and gendered norms of status and beauty work to materialize fatness in such a way that a ‘misfit’ is often the result for fat people who live and/or work in this area. And importantly, misfitting, as Garland Thomson argues, has consequences: it literally “casts out” when the “shape and function of … bodies comes into conflict with the shape and stuff of the built world” (594). This casting out produces some bodies as irrelevant to social and economic life, resulting in segregation and isolation. To misfit, she argues, is to be denied full citizenship. Responsibilising the Present Garland Thomson, discussing Bynum’s statement that “shape carries story”, argues the following: “the idea that shape carries story suggests … that material bodies are not only in the spaces of the world but that they are entwined with temporality as well” (596). In this section, I discuss how participants described their decisions to get weight loss surgery by making references to the need take responsibility for health now, in the present, in order to avoid further and future morbidity and mortality. Following Adams et al., I look at how the fat body is lived in a state of constant anticipation – “thinking and living toward the future” (246). All of the participants I spoke with described long histories of weight cycling. While many managed to lose weight, none were able to maintain this weight loss in the long term – a reality consistent with the medical fact that dieting does not produce durable results (Kassirer and Angell; Mann et al.; Puhl and Heuer). They experienced this inability as not only distressing, but terrifying, as they repeatedly regained the lost weight plus more. When participants discussed their decisions to have surgery, they highlighted concerns about weight related comorbidities and mobility limitations in their explanations. Consistent then with Boero, Lopez, and Wadden et al., the participants I spoke with did not seek out surgery in hopes of finding a permanent way to become thin, but rather a permanent way to become healthy and normal. Concerns about what is considered to be normative health, more than simply concerns about what is held to be an appropriate appearance, motivated their decisions. Significantly, for these participants the decision to have bariatric surgery was based on concerns about future morbidity (and mortality) at least as much, if not more so, than on concerns about a current state of ill health and impairment. Some individuals I spoke with were unquestionably suffering from multiple chronic and even life threatening illnesses and feared they would prematurely die from these conditions. Other participants, however, made the decision to have bariatric surgery despite the fact that they had no comorbidities whatsoever. Motivating their decisions was the fear that they would eventually develop them. Importantly, medial providers explicitly and repeatedly told all of these participants that lest they take drastic and immediate action, they would die. For example: Faith’s reproductive endocrinologist said: “you’re going to have diabetes by the time you’re 30; you’re going to have a stroke by the time you’re 40. And I can only hope that you can recover enough from your stroke that you’ll be able to take care of your family.” Several female participants were warned that without losing weight, they would either never become pregnant or they would die in childbirth. By contrast, participants stated that their bariatric surgeons were the first providers they had encountered to both assert that obesity was a medical condition outside of their control and to offer them a solution. Within an atmosphere in which obesity is held to be largely or entirely the result of behavioural choices, the bariatric profession thus positions itself as unique by offering both understanding and what it claims to be a durable treatment. Importantly, it would be a mistake to conclude that some bariatric patients needed surgery while others choose it for the wrong reasons. Regardless of their states of health at the time they made the decision to have surgery, the concerns that drove these patients to seek out these procedures were experienced as very real. Whether or not these concerns would have materialized as actual health conditions is unknown. Furthermore, bariatric patients should not be seen as having been duped or suffering from ‘false consciousness.’ Rather, they operate within a particular set of social, cultural, and political-economic conditions that suggest that good citizenship requires risk avoidance and personal health management. As these individuals experienced, there are material and social consequences for ‘failing’ to obtain normative conceptualizations of health. This set of conditions helps to produce a bariatric patient population that includes both those who were contending with serious health concerns and those who feared they would develop them. All bariatric patients operate within this set of conditions (as do medical providers) and make decisions regarding health (current, future, or both) by using the resources available to them. In her work on the temporalities of dieting, Coleman argues that rather than seeing dieting as a linear and progressive event, we might think of it instead a process that brings the future into the present as potential. Adams et al suggest concerns about potential futures, particularly in regard to health, are a defining characteristic of our time. They state: “The present is governed, at almost every scale, as if the future is what matters most. Anticipatory modes enable the production of possible futures that are lived and felt as inevitable in the present, rendering hope and fear as important political vectors” (249). The ability to act in the present based on potential future risks, they argue, has become a moral imperative and a marker of proper of citizenship. Importantly, however, our work to secure the ‘best possible future’ is never fully assured, as risks are constantly changing. The future is thus always uncertain. Acting responsibly in the present therefore requires “alertness and vigilance as normative affective states” (254). Importantly, these anticipations are not diagnostic, but productive. As Adams et al state, “the future arrives already formed in the present, as if the emergency has already happened…a ‘sense’ of the simultaneous uncertainty and inevitability of the future, usually manifest in entanglements of fear and hope” (250). It is in this light, then, that we might see the decision to have bariatric surgery. For these participants, their future weight-related morbidity and mortality had already arrived in the present and thus they felt they needed to act responsibly now, by undergoing what they had been told was the only durable medical intervention for obesity. The emotions of hope, fear, anxiety and I would suggest, hatred, were key in making these decisions. Conclusion Medical, public health, and media discourses frame obesity as an epidemic that threatens to bring untold financial disaster and escalating rates of morbidity and mortality upon the nation state and the world at large. As Fraser et al argue, strong emotions (such hatred, fear, anxiety, and hope), are at the centre of these discourses; they construct, circulate, and proliferate them. Moreover, they create categories of people who are deemed legitimate and categories of others who are not. In this context, the participants I spoke with were caught between a desire to have fatness understood as a medical condition needing intervention; the anti-fat attitudes of others, including providers, which held that obesity was a failure of the will and nothing more; their own internalization of these messages of personal responsibility for proper behavioural choices, and, the biologically intractable nature of fatness wherein dieting not only fails to reduce weight in the vast majority of cases but results, in the long term, in increased weight gain (Kassirer and Angell; Mann et al.; Puhl and Heuer). Widespread anxiety and embarrassment over and fear and hatred of fatness was something that the individuals I interviewed experienced directly and which signalled to them that they were less than human. Their desire for weight loss, therefore was partially a desire to become ‘normal.’ In Butler’s term, it was the desire for a ‘liveable life. ’A liveable life, for these participants, included a desire for a seamless fit with the built environment. The individuals I spoke with were never more ashamed of their fatness than when they experienced a ‘misfit’, in Garland Thomson’s terms, between their bodies and the material world. Moreover, feelings of shame over this disjuncture worked in tandem with a deeply felt, pressing sense that something must be done in the present to secure a better health future. The belief that bariatric surgery might finally provide a durable answer to obesity served as a strong motivating factor in their decisions to undergo bariatric surgery. By taking drastic action to lose weight, participants hoped to contest stigmatizing beliefs that their fat bodies reflected pathological interiors. Moreover, they sought to demonstrate responsibility and thus secure proper subjectivities and citizenship. In this sense, concerns, anxieties, and fears about health cannot be disentangled from the experience of anti-fat stigma and discrimination. Again, anti-fat bias, for these participants, was more than discursive: it operated through the circulation of emotion and was experienced in a very material sense. The decision to have weight loss surgery can thus be seen as occurring at the interface of emotion, flesh, space, place, and time, and in ways that are fundamentally shaped by the broader social context of neoliberal healthism. AcknowledgmentI am grateful to the anonymous reviewers of this article for their helpful feedback on earlier version. References Adams, Vincanne, Michelle Murphy, and Adele E. Clarke. “Anticipation: Technoscience, Life, Affect, Temporality.” Subjectivity 28.1 (2009): 246-265. 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Colls, Rachel. “‘Looking Alright, Feeling Alright:’ Emotions, Sizing, and the Geographies of Women’s Experience of Clothing Consumption.” Social & Cultural Geography 5.4 (2004): 583-596. Crawford, Robert. “You Are Dangerous to Your Health: The Ideology and Politics of Victim Blaming.” International Journal of Health Services 7.4 (1977): 663-680. ———. “Health as a Meaningful Social Practice.: Health 10.4 (2006): 401-20. Dedoose. Computer Software. n.d. Franko, Debra L., Emilie J. Coen, James P. Roehrig, Rachel Rodgers, Amy Jenkins, Meghan E. Lovering, Stephanie Dela Cruz. “Considering J. Lo and Ugly Betty: A Qualitative Examination of Risk Factors and Prevention Targets for Body Dissatisfaction, Eating Disorders, and Obesity in Young Latina Women.” Body Image 9.3 (2012), 381-387. Fikken, Janna J., and Esther D. Rothblum. “Is Fat a Feminist Issue? Exploring the Gendered Nature of Weight Bias.” Sex Roles 66.9-10 (2012): 575-592. Fraser, Suzanne, JaneMaree Maher, and Jan Wright. “Between Bodies and Collectivities: Articulating the Action of Emotion in Obesity Epidemic Discourse.” Social Theory & Health 8.2 (2010): 192-209. Garland Thomson, Rosemarie. “Misfits: A Feminist Materialist Disability Concept.” Hypatia 26.3 (2011): 591-609. Goffman, Erving. Stigma: Notes on the Management of Spoiled Identity. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1963. Grabe, Shelly, and Janet S. Hyde. “Ethnicity and Body Dissatisfaction among Women in the United States: A Meta-Analysis.” Psychological Bulletin 132.2 (2006): 622. Greenhalgh, Susan. “Weighty Subjects: The Biopolitics of the U.S. War on Fat.” American Ethnologist 39.3 (2012): 471-487. Grosz, Elizabeth A. “Bodies-Cities.” Feminist Theory and the Body: A Reader, eds. Janet Price and Margrit Shildrick. New York: Routledge, 1999. 381-387. Guthman, Julie. “Teaching the Politics of Obesity: Insights into Neoliberal Embodiment and Contemporary Biopolitics.” Antipode 41.5 (2009): 1110-1133. Kassirer, Jerome P., and M. Marcia Angell. “Losing Weight: An Ill-Fated New Year's Resolution.” The New England Journal of Medicine 338.1 (1998): 52. Kirkland, Anna. “Think of the Hippopotamus: Rights Consciousness in the Fat Acceptance Movement.” Law & Society Review 42.2 (2008): 397-432. Lewis, Sophie, Samantha L. Thomas, R. Warwick Blood, David Castle, Jim Hyde, and Paul A. Komesaroff. “How Do Obese Individuals Perceive and Respond to the Different Types of Obesity Stigma That They Encounter in Their Daily Lives? A Qualitative Study.” Social Science & Medicine 73.9 (2011): 1349-56. López, Julia Navas. “Socio-Anthropological Analysis of Bariatric Surgery Patients: A Preliminary Study.” Social Medicine 4.4 (2009): 209-217. McPhail, Deborah. “What to Do with the ‘Tubby Hubby?: ‘Obesity,’ the Crisis of Masculinity, and the Nuclear Family in Early Cold War Canada. Antipode 41.5 (2009): 1021-1050. Mann, Traci, A. Janet Tomiyama, Erika Westling, Ann-Marie Lew, Barbara Samuels, and Jason Chatman. “Medicare’s Search for Effective Obesity Treatments.” American Psychologist 62.3 (2007): 220-233. Metzl, Jonathan. “Introduction: Why ‘Against Health?’” Against Health: How Health Became the New Morality, eds. Jonathan Metzl and Anna Kirkland. New York: NYU Press, 2010. 1-14. Puhl, Rebecca M. “Obesity Stigma: Important Considerations for Public Health.” American Journal of Public Health 100.6 (2010): 1019-1028.———, and Kelly D. Brownell. “Psychosocial Origins of Obesity Stigma: Toward Changing a Powerful and Pervasive Bias.” Obesity Reviews 4.4 (2003): 213-227. ——— and Chelsea A. Heuer. “The Stigma of Obesity: A Review and Update.” Obesity 17.5 (2009): 941-964. Schafer, Markus H., and Kenneth F. Ferraro. “The Stigma of Obesity: Does Perceived Weight Discrimination Affect Identity and Physical Health?” Social Psychology Quarterly 74.1 (2011): 76-97. Schwartz, H. Never Satisfied: A Cultural History of Diets, Fantasies, and Fat. New York: Anchor Books, 1986. Wadden, Thomas A., David B. Sarwer, Anthony N. Fabricatore, LaShanda R. Jones, Rebecca Stack, and Noel Williams. “Psychosocial and Behavioral Status of Patients Undergoing Bariatric Surgery: What to Expect before and after Surgery.” The Medical Clinics of North America 91.3 (2007): 451-69. Wilson, Bianca. “Fat, the First Lady, and Fighting the Politics of Health Science.” Lecture. The Graduate Center of the City University of New York. 14 Feb. 2011.

The attacks against the United States of America (US) on 11 September 2001 paved the way for the coming into effect of much counter-terrorism legislation across the world. Ethiopia is one of the countries that have introduced new legislation on terrorism, which is mainly drawn from the UK and, to a lesser extent, from the US. The aim of this thesis is to comprehensively assess Ethiopia's counter-terrorism legislation in light of the experiences of the UK and the US in dealing with terrorism. Furthermore, this thesis discusses the consequences of ‘copying' Western counter-terrorism legislation into Ethiopian culture, drawing particular attention to the need for a proper balance between legitimate security interests and the protection of fundamental rights. This thesis is organized as follows. The first chapter introduces the significance, methodology, limitation, and scope of the thesis. The second chapter discusses the development of Ethiopian legal system, human rights and counterterrorism measures. Moving forwards, chapter three seeks to analyse two important factors encapsulated within the right to freedom of expression; that is, the content and medium of the expression and the identity of the speaker/publisher. The relevance of these factors in giving effect to the right to freedom of expression is evaluated in light of the need to protect against the incitement and/or encouragement of terrorism. The chapter then deepens its critical assessment by reviewing the difficulty of implementing these factors in Ethiopia. Chapter four seeks to widen the debate by exploring the legal regimes governing intercept evidence - an issue of great importance in terrorism discourse. The chapter critically examines why intercept evidence obtained through a warrant is inadmissible in UK courts. Additionally, this chapter compares the position of the UK with that of the US, isolating areas of similarities and differences with a view to comparing the Ethiopian position on intercept communications. Chapter five focuses on the arrest of individuals on suspicion of terrorism and the length of pre-charge detention under the three countries selected for this research. This chapter will then explore whether there is a need for a watered down version of ‘reasonable suspicion' in terrorism cases. This chapter further considers Ethiopia's position with regard to the level of knowledge required to execute arrests, considering whether Ethiopia could and should reflect on the UK's position in attempting to facilitate a greater accordance with fundamental rights by shortening the 120 days pre-charge detention currently available to police when arresting individuals on suspicion of terrorism. The final chapter draws on the preceding debate and provides the concluding remarks on the thesis.

Environmental issues, the frequency of oil accidents, liability and compensation, and issues related to the efficacy of oil legislation proliferate oil discourse. In addition, there is good amount of literature on the use of deterrence in the criminal justice system. However, literature on the connection between compliance and deterrence practices in the oil transportation industry is patchy, especially about less-developed economies. Where an attempt is made to assess compliance practices in the oil industry, there is a general drift towards bunching compliance experiences along regional lines or regional players; (Asian countries, EU countries), or coastal states, port states and flag states. Another tendency is to evaluate the activities in a few developed economies (United States, United Kingdom, Netherlands, Australia, Japan, Germany or France) and transpose that as representation of what prevails in all other developed countries or other economies. This study takes a holistic approach by synthesizing the environmental, regulatory, and socio-economic issues related to compliance with vessel-source legislation in just two specific jurisdictions without getting trapped by the bunching idea. Therefore, the focus of this research has been to investigate the compliance practices of two economies- Nigeria and the United States- against the backdrop of existing deterrent international and domestic vessel- source legislation. The enforcement corridor by stakeholders leaves grounds for flaunting of some relevant provisions, thus necessitating an investigation into the compliance practices of both economies in order to seek ways to deter those rogue practices. Additionally the study aims to design a framework that would enable decision-makers within the studied jurisdictions to frame their compliance decisions based on relevant environmental, regulatory, and socio- economic indicators that are targeted at reducing oil pollution from malfeasors. To this end, using a combination of black-letter approach, socio-legal methodology, comparative analysis, and questionnaires, the project aims to synthesize these methods with case laws and case studies, and apply the framework designed to the two economies. Evidently at the level of international oil tanker transportation, there is noticeable tightening of control and more reasonable compliance. However, domestic compliance practices in both the developed and less-developed economies could do better. On the whole, the international regimes have succeeded to deter some rogue behavior and foster compliance with some aspects of the trade, but would require severity and certainty of regulatory adjustments to attain a spill- free vessel-tanker trade that prevents pollution.

This thesis undertakes to research the development of domestic legal protection for privacy rights within employment. Unusually for a current work, it does this by returning to the genesis of the protections. The work challenges pervasive arguments that the notion of confidence did not protect privacy and exceptionally argues that the earliest incarnation of the notion of confidence was well equipped to protect private and personal information against disclosure. The thesis puts forward the novel view that the problems that have arisen in providing domestic protection for such information, in the absence of a right to privacy, are the result of an unfortunate narrowing of the original notion. This position is underpinned by the contention that a number of cases misinterpreted the nature of the original tort and did not fully recognise the requirement to provide protection against the acquisition of personal information. The historical analysis contributes to current knowledge by providing an alternative interpretation of the historical legal framework. This analysis provides an unorthodox assessment of the opportunities provided to the courts by the notion of confidence, to enhance both the theory and practical impact of the protection of privacy rights within employment Furthermore the thesis evaluates a broad range of case law from the European Court of Human Rights. These include general privacy cases, those involving wrongdoers as well as general employment cases. These cases are used to identify any consistent themes or conflicts in the application of the right to privacy. The evaluation produces a highly developed analysis and uncovers the latent significance of employment policies in both the protection of and the intrusion into, an employee's privacy. Most notably and distinctively the thesis identifies the important role that a well-crafted policy can have in augmenting an insubstantial legislative framework, provided that some legal basis provides the foundation for the policy. This evaluation also exposes the implications of any policy, which provides the basis for an interference with an employee's privacy and unconventionally highlights that the mere existence of such a policy can of itself amount to an intrusion, whether or not it is put into practice. Moreover, the thesis considers whether the incorporation of the right to privacy into domestic law has any impact upon private sector employers and employees. It heightens knowledge of the positive obligations placed upon the state and the courts to protect the right to privacy of all individuals against intrusions by the state and significantly against intrusions by other individuals or private sector organisations. The thesis therefore provides a valuable addition to current understanding of the interventionist and rigorous protections for privacy rights within employment, provided by the Strasbourg Court. This in turn provides the foundation for the unique evaluation of how effectively the right to privacy is incorporated into current domestic law. The thesis has taken the valuable opportunity provided by the tenth anniversary of the publication of the Human Rights Act 1998 to consider its impact upon privacy rights within employment. It takes advantage of the occasion to re-evaluate the categories of confidence and privacy and to analyse the principles underpinning the notions within domestic courts. The work exceptionally compares the development of domestic employment law with the development of general civil and criminal cases. This is an effective structure, which facilitates the development of arguments outlining how privacy rights within employment can be more effectively recognised and protected. The thesis does not shirk the challenges posed by the complex and difficult piece of legislation known as the Regulation of Investigatory Powers Act 2000, a particularly puzzling statute'. 1 It singularly and painstakingly reviews its provisions and questions whether accepted interpretations are correct or workable. The work offers an independent analysis of the rationale and application of its terms and brings to light the finding that despite its name Part II of the Act does not provide any powers and does not regulate the use of any existing powers but merely provides a framework, by which, intrusions may be undertaken by public authorities 'in accordance with the law' where there is no other statutory basis for the interference. The thesis makes an interesting case that other than where it creates criminal offences and civil liabilities for the interception of communications2, it has little if any effect upon the monitoring of employees, whether in the public or private sectors. The thesis also evaluates the Data Protection Act 1998 and The Employment Practices Code. It originally asserts that the Act and the Code provide the statutory basis for employers to intrude into the private lives of employees and prospective employees 'in accordance with the law' where it is necessary and proportionate to so; providing the employer has established and published policies that make the intrusion foreseeable in the circumstances. The fact that these arguments need to be evaluated and explained, naturally leads to the explicit conclusion that the incorporation of the rights protected by Article 8 in the statutory framework have failed to supply the necessary clarity to provide forseeability or to give, strengthen or explicitly restrict privacy rights within employment. Additionally, the creative comparison with the general privacy and criminal cases brings to light the evident disparity in the development of the case law in these areas compared with the development within employment cases. The thesis sets out the &adual but definite maturing of the protection noticeable in general privacy and criminal cases, particularly in v W [2003] EWCA Crim 1632 p. 98 2 Which themselves are modified by the Telecommunication (Lawful Business Practice) (Interception of Communications) Regulations, 2000 L1 relation to wrongdoing and rehabilitation, arguing that this has yet to filter into the employment cases. This leads to proposals for reform to remove the evident confusion for employers, employees, legal advisors, those providing oversight and commentators. The proposals encourage the judiciary to embrace the challenges and possibilities provided by the Human Rights Act 1998 to provide appropriate protections for privacy rights within employment. The thesis provides a platform for further research within this area and makes recommendations as to how the findings could be developed by both empirical research or by further comparative studies. The unusual approach to the research, the original nature of the findings and proposals for reform provide a valuable contribution to knowledge of the domestic legal framework, both statutory and common law suggesting both how it may be more effectively applied and how it could profitably be developed and clarified for both employers and employees. The thesis has thereby moved the debate to a different theoretical place from the established view of the ability of domestic law to effectively protect privacy rights within employment.

The International Safety Management (ISM) Code was introduced in 1998 in response to a number of high-profile maritime disasters, with the aim of establishing minimum standards for the safe operation of ships and creating an enhanced safety culture. It was the first piece of legislation introduced by the International Maritime Organisation that demanded a change in the behaviour and attitude of the international maritime community. Whilst there is no doubt that the ISM Code has been successful at improving maritime safety, there is now an increasing problem with complacency. The aim of this thesis is to consider how complacency with the ISM Code in the UK can be tackled by using reformed corporate manslaughter legislation. This thesis adopts a Safety Culture Theory approach and uses a multi-model research design methodology; a doctrinal model and a socio-legal model. The thesis hypothesis and the author's proposed corporate manslaughter reforms are tested through case studies and a survey. The thesis proposes the introduction of secondary individual liability for corporate manslaughter, in addition to existing primary corporate liability. If the proposed provisions were to be implemented, a gap in the law would be filled and, for the maritime industry, both the ship company and its corporate individuals would be held accountable for deaths at sea that are attributable to non-implementation of the ISM Code. It is suggested that this would deter further ISM complacency and so encourage the ISM Code’s intended safety culture. This thesis contributes to the intellectual advancement of the significant and developing interplay between criminal and maritime law, by adding to the scholarly understanding of the safety culture operating within the international maritime community, and examining how corporate manslaughter legislation could be used to improve implementation of the ISM Code. It offers sound research for consideration by legal researchers and scholars, and also by those working within the field of maritime safety regulation.

Youth justice in England and Wales is a highly politicised area of government policy and youth justice provision has always been a highly contested issue. The discourse of diversion stems from debates about the purpose and effectiveness of various types of penal regimes, and particularly their effect on children and young people in trouble with the law. The process of diversion aims to remove children and young people from the formal sanctions of the criminal justice system or minimize their penetration into it, and failing that it aims to avoid incarceration. Over the years diversion has taken many forms and the extent to which children have been diverted has varied. This thesis explores the various types of diversionary practice and how they have changed over time. It explores the political, administrative and professional conditions under which diversion has been a priority and those under which it has been effective. Bernard (1992) has argued that there is a ‘cycle of youth justice’ in which responses to youth crime move from the harsh to the more lenient before swinging back again. The thesis suggests that there is a ‘spiral’ of youth justice in which different paradigms are sometimes entangled together leading to the often contradictory and complex realities of youth justice and diversion without necessarily returning to the place of origin. It concludes that, given the current fiscal climate, there is a distinct likelihood that diversion policies will gain ascendancy. However, any developments will be fragile and susceptible to unintended consequences if the ‘real’ outcomes for children and young people are not part of the motivation for reform.

‘To require old heads upon young shoulders is inconsistent with the law’s compassion to human infirmity’ (Lord Diplock in Director of Public Prosecutions v Camplin Appellant [1978] AC 717)’. For young people in England and Wales who offend, diversion from formal proceedings has historically been a principle constituent of youth justice policy and practice, and presently accounts for over a third of all outcomes for detected youth offending (Youth Justice Board for England and Wales, 2015). Although attitudes concerning diversion have often oscillated between favour and criticism, and there has rarely been a period of sustained consensus or constancy of processes (Bernard, 1992; Goldson, 2010), eligibility for an out of court disposal has traditionally been dependent on an admission of some form being made by a young person. This thesis seeks to place the evolution of diversionary measures for young people who commit low level offences or engage in nuisance behaviours into a contextual and historical context, and explore why an admission has become, in the absence of any discernible political, academic or professional considerations, a central tenet of diversionary policies in England and Wales. Potential barriers which may prevent some young people making an admission and unnecessarily losing eligibility for an out of court disposal are considered, as well as the nature and standard of admission expected from young people, and the circumstances in which admissions are usually sought from them. This thesis also explores whether the mandatory admission criterion is compatible with other statutory and international obligations to consider the welfare of a young person when determining a suitable disposal, and whether it sufficiently distinguishes between young people unwilling to make an admission and those who may feel unable to. The thesis seeks to identify the gaps in current academic and professional knowledge concerning whether some young people may unnecessarily forfeit eligibility for a diversionary outcome for the sole reason that they do not make an admission. The research undertaken with relevant professionals’ endeavours to fill these gaps by exploring the practical application of the admission criterion, as well considering any suitable alternatives within the existing statutory regime.

The destructive force of the far-right was tragically witnessed through the mass devastation brought about by World War II. The international community sought to prevent the repetition of such destruction through the establishment of institutions, such as the United Nations, and the adoption of documents such as the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and the European Convention on Human Rights. Jurisprudence and conventions on a supranational level directly prohibit speech and expression of the far-right with, for example, Article 4 of the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination prohibiting racist associations and racist expression. Nevertheless, we are living in a world where violent far-right entities, such as Golden Dawn of Greece, have received unprecedented electoral support, where xenophobic parties have done spectacularly well at the latest European Parliament elections, where the United Kingdom has voted to leave the European Union and where Donald Trump has been elected as the next president of the United States of America. As such, the far-right is no longer a phenomenon of the past. It is one of the present, rising at swift and worrying rates. In this light, the study analyses how supranational bodies, namely the United Nations, the Council of Europe and the European Union, require their members to tackle right-wing extremism either directly, or through the regulation of by-products of right-wing extremism, such as hate speech. The adherence to international obligations is examined through an assessment of two jurisdictions, namely, England and Wales and Greece. For purposes of this thesis, supranational obligations emanate from, inter alia, instruments such as the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination and the European Convention on Human Rights. It must be noted that, on an EU level, there is also a centralised mechanism in the form of Article 7 TEU which can, in theory, be used against Member States which embrace a far-right ideology or, potentially, tolerate the far-right. However, this tool has never been used. The dissertation considers the means and methods adopted by the jurisdictions under consideration to interpret and apply international and European obligations through their national legal systems along with a broader conceptualisation of their legal and judicial approaches to right-wing extremism. The country analyses commence with an assessment of their adherence to international and European obligations, the thesis looks at the case-studies' domestic frameworks in the realm of challenging far-right movements. For both countries, there is a legal analysis of how central rights and freedoms, such as non-discrimination, expression, assembly and association, are established by law. For England and Wales, it proceeds to look at the role of criminal law in relation to the far-right, assessing the public order ambit which is the one most habitually used to challenge the rhetoric and activities of the far-right. This is followed by an evaluation of recent anti-terror legislation which has come into play in relation to the regulation of violent elements of the far-right movement. After looking at criminal law and how it deals with ensuring public order and countering terror, the assessment of England and Wales looks at how national law treats political parties before registration and during their functioning. The purpose is to determine what tools and sub-tools are available and can be used for challenging far-right parties contesting elections. From the above-described analysis, it is concluded that the legal framework of England and Wales embraces the significance of the freedom of expression but readily allows for the limitation of speech if issues of public order, terrorism or anti-social behaviour arise. Assemblies are also readily prohibited if public order or anti-social behaviour issues arise. What is clear is that this case-study is not willing to proscribe associations if such associations do not amount to terrorist organisations. In relation to Greece, the dissertation assesses the principal legal instrument that tackles issues relevant to challenging the far-right, namely the criminal law framework and particularly the law on the punishment of racially discriminatory acts, and relevant provisions of the Greek Penal Codes such as those on racial aggravation and criminal and terrorist organisations. It also look at the non-discrimination law which is relevant to this case-study given Golden Dawn's provision of services to Greeks only. It became evident from the analysis that relevant legislation has seldom been relied upon to challenge the far-right in Greece, a reality which has led to a state of impunity for the criminal activities of Golden Dawn and an issue that has become a key concern for national and international human rights institutions and non-governmental organisations. Although some members of Golden Dawn were convicted for their criminal activities and the Court recognised their affiliation with Golden Dawn, before the murder of an ethnic Greek, no steps were taken against the organisation. The chapter incorporates an analysis of the legal basis of the ongoing trial against Golden Dawn. Furthermore, the chapter also looks at how national law treats political parties before registration and during their functioning. This analysis demonstrated that political parties, even ones with dangerous and undemocratic intentions, can register and function without limitations with the only point of State intervention being when such entities cross into the threshold of a criminal organisation, as was the case of Golden Dawn.

There has been increasing interest in open innovation in academic research as well as industry application since the concept was introduced in 2003. The concept got much attention because of its economic benefits and novel means for facilitating innovation. This thesis aims to adapt the concept of open innovation to the university environment, in order to foster innovation in the development process for intellectual property (IP) derived from academic research activities. It contributes to the literature on open innovation adapted to the university context, i.e. open collaboration on the development of intellectual property towards a commercial ready stage. In order to investigate the potential of open innovation in the university environment, a focus group was conducted. In addition, the business process of Quirky Inc. was analysed as an example to better understand how open innovation works in the business context. The results of the study’s data analyses inform new opportunities for interventions in universities towards fostering different approaches to IP development as research outcomes. Further, it reveals interventions that can promote open innovation approaches in the university’s context more generally.

Amidst growing concerns due to a rise in incidents of inter racial conflict between African Caribbean and South Asian young men; this thesis draws on the concept of identity formation as an instigating factor in terms of why young people may get embroiled in conflict with other cultural groups. Drawing on semi structured questionnaires with professionals and community workers, an ethnographic study with young people involved in or party to the incidents and a few in depth focus groups it explores the historical issues associated with the conflict, the development of identity and how and why this may be different for those from Black and Minority Ethnic (BME) groups and how it can then materialise into conflict when threatened. It aims to contribute to practice, knowledge and understanding of inter racial conflict and how the creation of positive identities can reduce these incidents. It also seeks to identify approaches and interventions most likely to be effective in addressing this which include working with parents, carers and the wider community who may carry some of the historical issues that allow the conflict to exist. Findings point to identity formation being complex and multifaceted, which can be affected through personal and social experiences: many of these being different for young people from BME communities. Identity is fragile and can be shaped and changed through these experiences which can be compounded by interrelated needs and anxious backgrounds which can then manifest into behaviour that targets those that they may feel threatened by. This study cites the importance of cultural specific responses and interventions which are holistic, informal and flexible to meet the distinct needs of not only young people but those that are influential in their lives. In addition it highlights the importance of work associated with identity formation and the creation of positive identities as a precursor to reducing conflict situations.

This masters thesis titled 'Buying across price tiers in the Australian wine market' explores if the duplication of purchase law (DoP) can be used to describe how consumers purchase across price tiers. The law has traditionally been used to describe how consumers buy across different brands in repeat purchase markets over time. This thesis builds on the generalisability of the DoP law by applying it to how consumers buy from different price tiers in a market where much price choice exists.