Journal articles on the topic 'Buddy scheme'

Background:Since 2006, The School of Primary, Community and Social Care, Keele University has a long standing commitment to Patient and Public Involvement and Engagement (PPIE) in research. The School’s Research User Group (RUG) has 133 members in January 2020, compared to 80 members in September 2016. Supporting the practical and emotional needs of a growing number of RUG members to support their long-term involvement is of prime importance.Arising from Keele’s role as a test bed site for the new UK Public Involvement Standards, a new peer support role (the ‘RUG-Buddy’) was co-produced to facilitate the support of RUG members.Objectives:The RUG-Buddy is a peer support and mentoring scheme. More experienced RUG members attend research meetings with less experienced members to provide support and reassurance. The scheme aims to provide:•A welcoming and friendly environment for RUG members•Extra support for all RUG members before, during and after research meetings•Help new RUG members ease into public involvement•Support with discussions between researchers and RUG members, e.g. avoiding research jargon••Reassurance to new members - learning from those with greater experience of public involvement•Someone to talk to and confide in from people who have personal experience of PPIE•Practical advice on completing payment forms, parking issues, etc.Methods:Peer support is provided by a panel of existing RUG members who have substantial experience of PPIE in research. This is anadditionalmethod of supporting the RUG members alongside support provided by the School’s PPIE team. RUG-Buddies will be supported in their role by the PPIE team and provided with an induction and training. RUG-Buddies are offered payment for their time and have their travel expenses reimbursed. The RUG-Buddies scheme will be piloted during an initial 6-month period, after which it will be reviewed, with feedback from RUG-Buddies and RUG members.Results:A role description for the RUG-Buddy role has been coproduced by Keele’s PPIE team and its RUG Steering Group (Table 1). A panel of 10 RUG members have been recruited for the RUG-Buddy role and have received an induction and training (e.g. Health and Safety, Information Governance). RUG-Buddies have provided support to and attended research meetings with other RUG members. The RUG-Buddy role will be reviewed in September 2020.Table 1.Summary of the RUG-Buddy role descriptionQualities of a RUG-BuddyRUG-Buddy responsibilitiesPPIE team responsibilitiesWilling to share personal experienceTo attend up to the first three PPIE meetings of a research projectTo provide a training session for all RUG-BuddiesFriendly and approachableTo introduce new member to RUG members and research teamTo meet RUG-Buddies every two months to provide review/feedback of the roleEnthusiastic and knowledgeable about PPIE in researchTo encourage contribution to the meetingTo have a named PPIE lead for any questions/queries that may ariseBe reliable and punctualTo provide support and respond to RUG members’ questionsTo work alongside RUG-Buddy to meet and greet public membersConclusion:The RUG-Buddy is an innovative peer support scheme to support the involvement of patients and the public in research. The support provided by RUG-Buddies offers a different perspective from people with real-life experience of involvement in research. It is anticipated that this additional support will enrich the experience of RUG members and facilitate a more welcoming and conducive environment for active and meaningful public involvement. Furthermore, it has also provided an opportunity for the RUG-Buddies to gain valuable new skills and also give something back to the PPIE team and researchers who have supported their own involvement for many years.Acknowledgments:This project is funded by the National Institute for Health Research (NIHR) School for Primary Care Research (project reference 440). Thank you to the Keele Research User Group for all their great workDisclosure of Interests:None declared

Abstract The Spine Buddy® supportive pad was developed to be inserted underneath military backpacks to help disperse the heavy load of the backpack. The purpose of this study was to determine the impact the additional supportive pad had on static balance and a running gait while wearing a military backpack. Forty healthy subjects (age= 27.5 + 5.6 yrs, body height= 1.78 + 0.06 m, body mass= 86.5 + 14.0 kg: mean + SD) participated in a static single-leg balance test on a force plate with each lower limb while wearing a 15.9 kg military backpack for 30 s. Following this, participants were randomized to one of two interventions: 1) Intervention, which wore the Spine Buddy® supportive pad underneath their backpack or 2) Control, with no additional supportive pad. Post-intervention measurements of static single-leg balance were then recorded. Afterwards, a similar pre vs post testing schedule and randomization scheme was used to test the impact of the supportive pad on a 5 mph jogging gait using Vicon® cameras. Within-group data were analyzed with a 2-way repeated measures ANOVA. Statistically significant differences were not seen between the control and experimental group for balance and gait variables. Preliminarily, this suggests that the Spine Buddy® supportive pad causes no deleterious effect on static balance and a jogging gait in 18-45 year-old asymptomatic individuals.

AbstractComparisons between computed balance velocities, obtained from two different computing schemes, and global positioning system (GPS)-derived velocities were made in the Lambert Glacier basin region, East Antarctica. The two computing schemes used for the balance-velocity computations (a flowline (FL) scheme (Remy and Minster, 1993) and a finite-difference (BW) scheme (Budd and Warner, 1996; Fricker and others, 2000)) were first evaluated and compared. One of the key issues studied was the spatial resolution of the digital elevation model (DEM), representing the surface topography of the ice sheet, and the sensitivity of the balance velocities to the length of smoothing applied to the DEM. Comparison with the GPS velocities validated the two schemes to within 5–25% but showed the high sensitivity of the flowline method to the length scale of the smoothing. The finite-difference scheme was found to be robust to the chosen smoothing scale, but the balance-velocity values increased when a finer-resolution DEM was used. Both FL and BW computing schemes tended to overestimate the balance velocities in comparison with the GPS values; some of this discrepancy can be attributed to ice-sheet sliding.

Introduction. The strive for high quality of Russian higher education, puts an emphasis on seeking the ways to improve it in the line with the topical Global educational agenda. In the context of this study provision of high quality education is defined as managing students experience in and out of the classroom as an integrative whole which is indispensable for maximising educational outcomes. Though Russian universities have a steady intake of international students on mobility programmes, there are not enough studies modelling the application of these dimensions in Russian academic setting. The current study seeks for the pathways to overcome this gap.Aim. The article is targeted to rethink the strategy of managing high quality education for international students and to work out and test an integrated model for the educational quality enhancement regarding two critical dimensions of their university training in curricular-related and co-curricular areas.Methodology and research methods. Mixed research methods were utilised. Individual interviews and a survey with close-ended and open-ended items were used to find out challenging issues impeding the development of high quality education offered in curricular and co-curricular related dimensions. Classroom observation, peer experts opinions and content analysis of the courses taught and their outcomes evaluation were applied at the University of Tyumen, being 5-100 project participant, to indicate the components, pedagogical toolkit and competencies for high educational quality of international students.Results and scientific novelty. The developed integrated model for high educational quality provision included the main interrelated curricular and co-curricular components of quality enhancement. They involved the designed up-to-date academic Russian course; teacher-student interactive support, socio-cultural and intellectual engagement such as “buddy” scheme studentto-student support, discussion workshops on intercultural awareness of students and teaching staff. Teaching methods of reflection, critical analysis, confirmatory feedback, communities, project-based and action oriented learning, group discussions, language tandems were proposed. Major competencies for international students’ curricular-based and co-curricular educational quality were suggested: critical reading and reflection, academic writing, negotiating, argumentation, logical cohesion, intercultural and cross-cultural awareness, conflict avoidance, tolerance to ambiguity.Practical significance. The integrated model can be applied for road-mapping the action plan of international policy at any university in Russia to provide high quality education for international students.

Since 2016, many German citizens have participated in so-called ‘buddy schemes’ in which volunteers provide personalised support to refugees to help them build their new lives in Germany. These relationships are characterised by ethnic, gender, and age differences between the two parties. This article looks at buddy schemes from the perspective of both volunteers and refugees and investigates whether their relationships open up spaces for transformative citizenship practices, or rather reinforce exclusionary discourses. Drawing on feminist theories of care, the article describes how volunteers and refugees attach meaning to their activities and roles in the relationship. On the one hand, values attached to caring relationships, such as emotional closeness, trust, and respect, contribute to migrants’ heightened sense of self-esteem and autonomy and foster volunteers’ sense of responsibility for fighting against inequality. On the other hand, both parties enter into particular logics of care that potentially reinforce power hierarchies between them. These ambiguous dynamics influence the possibility of transformative citizenship practices on both sides. While some volunteers and refugees develop and take a critical stance on restrictive migration policies in their relationships with others, others reinforce their exclusionist viewpoints on who deserves to be helped and by whom.

A simple computer scheme developed by Budd and Smith (1985) and modified by D. Jenssen has been further developed to provide a rapid computation of steady-state balance fluxes over arbitrary ice masses, given the surface elevations and net accumulation distribution. The scheme provides a powerful diagnostic tool to examine the flux and state of balance over whole ice masses or limited regions to interpret field observations for dynamics or the state of balance. In many cases the uncertainty in the state of balance may be much less than the uncertainty in the deformation and sliding properties of the ice and so the flux and velocities derived from balance could provide a useful guide for the dynamics where direct observations are sparse. The scheme assumes that, on a horizontal scale of many ice thicknesses, the ice-flow direction is approximately down the steepest surface slope. The continuity equation is used to compute steady-state implied downslope fluxes at each grid point from integrations of the net accumulation over the area from the summits to the edges. The algorithm ensures the exact integral balance of the surface net flux over the area with flow through boundaries. Applications are demonstrated for the whole of Antarctica and for regional areas. Comparisons are made between fluxes computed from observed ice thicknesses and velocities and those computed from balance. The observed ice thicknesses can also be used to compute surface velocities from assumed column-to-surface velocity ratios. The combined fluxes from observations and balance can be used to compute rates of change of elevation with time.

A simple computer scheme developed by Budd and Smith (1985) and modified by D. Jenssen has been further developed to provide a rapid computation of steady-state balance fluxes over arbitrary ice masses, given the surface elevations and net accumulation distribution. The scheme provides a powerful diagnostic tool to examine the flux and state of balance over whole ice masses or limited regions to interpret field observations for dynamics or the state of balance.In many cases the uncertainty in the state of balance may be much less than the uncertainty in the deformation and sliding properties of the ice and so the flux and velocities derived from balance could provide a useful guide for the dynamics where direct observations are sparse.The scheme assumes that, on a horizontal scale of many ice thicknesses, the ice-flow direction is approximately down the steepest surface slope. The continuity equation is used to compute steady-state implied downslope fluxes at each grid point from integrations of the net accumulation over the area from the summits to the edges. The algorithm ensures the exact integral balance of the surface net flux over the area with flow through boundaries.Applications are demonstrated for the whole of Antarctica and for regional areas. Comparisons are made between fluxes computed from observed ice thicknesses and velocities and those computed from balance. The observed ice thicknesses can also be used to compute surface velocities from assumed column-to-surface velocity ratios. The combined fluxes from observations and balance can be used to compute rates of change of elevation with time.

A self-surging glacier model (Budd and McInnes, 1974; Budd, 1975), in which basal sliding is parameterized in terms of energy per unit area dissipated by basal friction, TbVb, has been extended to model the steady-state and time-dependent behaviour of eight Antarctic ice streams. Their basic characteristics were established with the working hypothesis of steady-state mass balance for the ice sheet as a whole, using a 20 km grid digitization of the surface and bedrock-elevation contours in Antarctica: glaciological and geophysical folio (Drewry, 1983). When the viscosity of the ice is lowered to values that are somewhat unrealistic for the present Antarctic ice, all the model ice streams enter a pulsating fast-sliding mode of flow in which the velocity reaches several km/year for periods ranging from fractions οf a year to tens of years. Except for one ice stream (Slessor Glacier), no substantial surge-like advances were found, and even in that case no periodic surging regime developed. The pulses are tentatively attributed to processes at the grounding line, with the converging width-parameterization scheme in the surging velocity calculation as another complexity that is still being investigated. For the cyclic surging Medvezhi Glacier model (Budd and Mclnnes, 1978), it has been found that the model surges change to shorter pulses as the width-convergence rate is increased. It is concluded that the special regime and topography of ice streams — net accumulation increasing along the strongly converging flow and removal of the ice by calving rather than ablation — impede the onset of periodic surging. However, more sophisticated parameterizations of the basal hydraulics now in development may well show that ice-stream surges after all are possible.

A self-surging glacier model (Budd and McInnes, 1974;Budd, 1975), in which basal sliding is parameterized in terms of energy per unit area dissipated by basal friction, TbVb, has been extended to model the steady-state and time-dependent behaviour of eight Antarctic ice streams. Their basic characteristics were established with the working hypothesis of steady-state mass balance for the ice sheet as a whole, using a 20 km grid digitization of the surface and bedrock-elevation contours inAntarctica: glaciological and geophysical folio(Drewry, 1983). When the viscosity of the ice is lowered to values that are somewhat unrealistic for the present Antarctic ice, all the model ice streams enter a pulsating fast-sliding mode of flow in which the velocity reaches several km/year for periods ranging from fractions οf a year to tens of years. Except for one ice stream (Slessor Glacier), no substantial surge-like advances were found, and even in that case no periodic surging regime developed. The pulses are tentatively attributed to processes at the grounding line, with the converging width-parameterization scheme in the surging velocity calculation as another complexity that is still being investigated. For the cyclic surging Medvezhi Glacier model (Budd and Mclnnes, 1978), it has been found that the model surges change to shorter pulses as the width-convergence rate is increased.It is concluded that the special regime and topography of ice streams — net accumulation increasing along the strongly converging flow and removal of the ice by calving rather than ablation — impede the onset of periodic surging. However, more sophisticated parameterizations of the basal hydraulics now in development may well show that ice-stream surges after all are possible.

Objectives To understand and explain whether a dementia buddies pilot introduced into two adjacent mental health hospital wards in England was achieving its aim of enhancing person-centred care. Methods The research used a cultural lens to evaluate the dementia buddies pilot. It comprised 20 in-depth semi-structured interviews with staff, volunteers and carers in the two wards where the pilot was introduced. Results The pilot’s ability to deliver positive outcomes depended on its compatibility with the culture of the ward and it performed better in the ward where a person-centred culture of care already existed. In this ward, the pilot became a catalyst for improved experience among patients, carers and staff, whereas in the second ward, the pilot faced resistance from staff and achieved less. Conclusions This finding underlines the benefit of focusing on workplace culture to understand the performance of volunteer-led initiatives. It also shows that existing ward culture is a determining factor in the capacity for dementia buddy schemes to act as vehicles for culture change.

It is well-established that classification standards have historically reflected hierarchy, power and knowledge in the culture from which they originate (Olson, 2002). Budd(2003) describes classification as an agent of “symbolic power,” and points out that without seeing classification as a “discursive act,” class differences can be perpetuated (p.28). Placement of subjects in a classification scheme constitutes a rhetorical act that explicates an intentional or unintentional power strategy of the classification scheme’s editors as perpetuators of the dominant culture. As cultural norms shift, so does the classification, creating anontogeny, or what Tennis calls, “the life of the subject overtime” (2007, 2012). If ontogeny tracks the arc of a subject’s position, within each rendition of a classification the concepts proximate to each other to create a “rhetorica lspace” that defines how the concept should be perceived by users of the classification.

Purpose – The purpose of this paper is to analyze the difference in students’ preferences on weekly menu of school mid-day meal (MDM) program in Uttar Pradesh, India. Design/methodology/approach – The study is based on primary structured questionnaire survey through personal interviews using multi-stage stratified sampling technique. This comprehensive survey covered 2,400 primary and upper primary students belonging to eight districts of Uttar Pradesh – Allahabad, Balrampur, Gautam Buddh Nagar, Hathras, Kanpur Nagar, Mathura, Shahjahanpur and Varanasi. A total of 60 schools have been selected from each district, covering a total of 480 primary and upper primary schools. Simple statistical tools have been used to analyze the surveyed data such as cross-tabulation, percentage distribution and rank analysis. Further, six research hypotheses have been formulated to analyze the difference in school meal menu preferences among the students and χ2-statistics has been used to test the significance level of these hypotheses. Findings – Survey results indicate that more than 90 percent students eat MDM in the school as per the weekly menu. Result of χ2-test indicates that choices on school meal menu among the students differ significantly across weekdays. Rice-pulses or rice-sambar served on Tuesday is reported to be the first preferred food of children given first preference by around 30 percent, followed by kadi-rice or kheer which is served on Wednesday. The results of χ2-tests exhibited a significant difference on weekly menu choices by gender, kitchen types, rural and urban locations and geographical regions. About 27 percent of the students reported that they want to have a change in the menu. When further probed about the kind of changes desired in the menu, puri-vegetables was found to be the most preferred choice of the respondents, beside halwa/kheer and rice with pulses/vegetables/kadi being the next preferred choices. Practical implications – The present study provides managerial implications to the policy makers and scheme/program implementers for better understanding of the students’ preferences on school MDM weekly menu. Originality/value – There are several evaluation studies undertaken by various agencies to assess the impact of MDM program on school attendance, retention and nutritional status of children. However, there are limited numbers of studies available, which have measured the students’ preferences on school MDM menu.

Background:The journey of axial spondyloarthritis (axSpA) for most patients is slow and arduous.Objectives:The goal of this analysis is to describe the journey to diagnosis and further management in axSpA patients.Methods:2,846 unselected patients participated in EMAS, a cross-sectional study (2017-2018) across 13 European countries. Descriptive analysis of sociodemographic factors, insurance scheme, diagnostic journey and post diagnosis healthcare utilization was performed. Mann-Whitey test was used to analyse possible differences between BASDAI (>4 v ≤4) and the number of visits to healthcare professionals and follow-up tests undertaken.Results:Mean age was 43.9 years, 61.3% were female, 48.1% university educated, 67.9% married, 53.9% employed and 81.7% had public health insurance. Mean age at symptoms onset was 26.6 (11.1), while mean age at diagnosis was 33.7 (11.5) and mean diagnostic delay was 7.4 years. Over 50% had a diagnostic delay of ≥4 years. Prior to receiving a diagnosis, patients visited on average 2.6 specialists. The most commonly performed diagnostic tests were x-rays (72.3%), HLA B27 tests (65.4%) and MRIs (64.3%). 78.4% were diagnosed by a rheumatologist while 14.9% received their diagnosis by a GP. Patients who experienced a diagnostic delay of more than a year (n= 2,208) undertook a considerable number of visits to specialists and medical tests in the year prior to participating in EMAS, which increased with disease activity. Patients with active disease (BASDAI >4) reported a higher number of visits to rheumatologists (3.7±3.5 vs 2.9±2.6), general practitioners (6.6±10.0 vs 3.5±4.1), physiotherapists (19.3±25.0 vs 11.7±17.0), and psychologists/psychiatrists (3.4±10.7 vs 1.9±7.7). Patients with active disease also undertook more x-rays (1.8±2.8 vs. 1.3±1.9), MRI scans (0.9±1.2 vs. 0.6±1.1), and blood tests (4.7±4.4 vs 3.6±3.2). However, one in five patients visited the rheumatologist only once in the year prior to EMAS (21.1%).Conclusion:Diagnostic delay continues to be a key challenge in the axSpA patient journey, with patients waiting an average of 7.4 years and visiting multiple doctors prior to diagnosis. Once diagnosed, disease management presents a further challenge, as patients with higher disease activity reported more healthcare professional visits as well as medical tests. Safeguarding health and controlling healthcare utilization requires effective disease management, greater education for non-specialists, rapid referral routes for diagnosis and collaborative care between specialists and non-specialists.Figure 1.axSpA Patient journey according to EMASAcknowledgements:This study was supported by Novartis Pharma AG. The authors would like to thank all participants who participated in this study.Disclosure of Interests:Marco Garrido-Cumbrera: None declared, Denis Poddubnyy Consultant of: Abbvie, BMS, Celgene, Janssen, Lilly, MSD, Novartis, Pfizer, Roche, and UCB, Grant/research support from: Abbvie, MSD, Novartis and Pfizer, Christine Bundy Consultant of: Abbvie, Celgene, Janssen, Lilly, Novartis, and Pfizer, Laura Christen Employee of: Novartis Pharma AG, Raj Mahapatra: None declared, Souzi Makri: None declared, Carlos Jesús Delgado-Domínguez: None declared, Sergio Sanz-Gómez: None declared, Pedro Plazuelo-Ramos: None declared, Victoria Navarro-Compán Grant/research support from: Abbvie, BMS, Lilly, MSD, Novartis, Pfizer, Roche, and UCB

Scanlon, Liz G. Noodle & Lou. Illus. Arthur Howard. New York: Beach Lane Books, 2011. Print. In an unlikely animal pairing, Noodle, an earthworm who is having a bad day, turns to his buddy Lou, a perky blue jay, to cheer him up. While Noodle confides his feelings of envy about other worms living it up at Wiggly Field and catalogues all of his reasons for self-loathing, Lou counters with loyal support until finally Noodle cheers up. Lou’s patient, nurturing, and kind-hearted reassurance highlights the importance of friendship and self-acceptance. There are moments of entertaining weirdness in the book like when Noodle reasonably complains “My head has no eyes” but at times the text is clichéd and seems forced to fit into the rhyming scheme. The book does not stray from the author’s purposive, straightforward storyline and lessons—developing self-esteem, supporting friends, and appreciating who you are. Kids will pay attention to the thick-lined, colourful drawings and try to spot other bugs and birds found in the illustrations. The illustrations get progressively brighter and more detailed as Noodle’s mood brightens. Noodle is drawn as a ball-cap wearing, charming worm who expresses a surprising range of emotions through body language and his mouth. Noodle & Lou is an old-fashioned story about the importance of friendship. It is aimed at children ages 4-6. Recommended with reservations: 2 out of 4 stars Reviewer: Tami Oliphant

An emerging technique in image segmentation, semi-supervised learning and general classification problems concerns the use of phase-separating flows defined on finite graphs. This technique was pioneered in Bertozzi and Flenner (2012, Multiscale Modeling and Simulation10(3), 1090–1118), which used the Allen–Cahn flow on a graph, and was then extended in Merkurjev et al. (2013, SIAM J. Imaging Sci.6(4), 1903–1930) using instead the Merriman–Bence–Osher (MBO) scheme on a graph. In previous work by the authors, Budd and Van Gennip (2020, SIAM J. Math. Anal.52(5), 4101–4139), we gave a theoretical justification for this use of the MBO scheme in place of Allen–Cahn flow, showing that the MBO scheme is a special case of a ‘semi-discrete’ numerical scheme for Allen–Cahn flow. In this paper, we extend this earlier work, showing that this link via the semi-discrete scheme is robust to passing to the mass-conserving case. Inspired by Rubinstein and Sternberg (1992, IMA J. Appl. Math.48, 249–264), we define a mass-conserving Allen–Cahn equation on a graph. Then, with the help of the tools of convex optimisation, we show that our earlier machinery can be applied to derive the mass-conserving MBO scheme on a graph as a special case of a semi-discrete scheme for mass-conserving Allen–Cahn. We give a theoretical analysis of this flow and scheme, proving various desired properties like existence and uniqueness of the flow and convergence of the scheme, and also show that the semi-discrete scheme yields a choice function for solutions to the mass-conserving MBO scheme.

We take as our subject what many would deem a waste of good celluloid: the degraded cultural form of the stoner film. Stoner films plot the experiences of the wasted (those intoxicated on marijuana) as they exhibit wastefulness—excessiveness, improvidence, decay—on a number of fronts. Stoners waste time in constantly hunting for pot and in failing to pursue more productive activity whilst wasted. Stoners waste their minds, both literally, if we believe contested studies that indicate marijuana smoking kills brains cells, and figuratively, in rendering themselves cognitively impaired. Stoners waste their bodies through the dangerous practice of smoking and through the tendency toward physical inertia. Stoners waste money on marijuana firstly, but also on such sophomoric accoutrements as the stoner film itself. Stoners lay waste to convention in excessively seeking pleasure and in dressing and acting outrageously. And stoners, if the scatological humour of so many stoner films is any index, are preoccupied with bodily waste. Stoners, we argue here, waste whiteness as well. As the likes of Jesse and Chester (Dude, Where’s My Car?), Wayne and Garth (Wayne’s World), Bill and Ted (Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure) and Jay and Silent Bob (Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back) make clear, whiteness looms large in stoner films. Yet the genre, we argue, disavows its own whiteness, in favour of a post-white hybridity that lavishly squanders white privilege. For all its focus on whiteness, filmic wastedness has always been an ethnically diverse and ambiguous category. The genre’s origins in the work of Cheech Marin, a Chicano, and Tommy Chong, a Chinese-European Canadian, have been buttressed in this regard by many African American contributions to the stoner oeuvre, including How High, Half Baked and Friday, as well as by Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle, and its Korean-American and Indian-American protagonists. Cheech and Chong initiated the genre with the release of Up in Smoke in 1978. A host of films have followed featuring protagonists who spend much of their time smoking and seeking marijuana (or—in the case of stoner films such as Dude, Where’s My Car? released during the height of the War on Drugs—acting stoned without ever being seen to get stoned). Inspired in part by the 1938 anti-marijuana film Reefer Madness, and the unintended humour such propaganda films begat amongst marijuana smokers, stoner films are comedies that satirise both marijuana culture and its prohibition. Self-consciously slapstick, the stoner genre excludes more serious films about drugs, from Easy Rider to Shaft, as well as films such as The Wizard of Oz, Yellow Submarine, the Muppet movies, and others popular amongst marijuana smokers because of surreal content. Likewise, a host of films that include secondary stoner characters, such as Jeff Spicoli in Fast Times at Ridgemont High and Wooderson in Dazed and Confused, are commonly excluded from the genre on the grounds that the stoner film, first and foremost, celebrates stonerism, that is “serious commitment to smoking and acquiring marijuana as a lifestyle choice.” (Meltzer). Often taking the form of the “buddy film,” stoner flicks generally feature male leads and frequently exhibit a decidedly masculinist orientation, with women, for the most part reduced to little more than the object of the white male gaze.The plot, such as it is, of the typical stoner film concerns the search for marijuana (or an accessory, such as junk food) and the improbable misadventures that ensue. While frequently represented as resourceful and energetic in their quest for marijuana, filmic stoners otherwise exhibit ambivalent attitudes toward enterprise that involves significant effort. Typically represented as happy and peaceable, filmic stoners rarely engage in conflict beyond regular clashes with authority figures determined to enforce anti-drug laws, and other measures that stoners take to be infringements upon happiness. While Hollywood’s stoners thus share a sense of entitlement to pleasure, they do not otherwise exhibit a coherent ideological orthodoxy beyond a certain libertarian and relativistic open-mindedness. More likely to take inspiration from comic book heroes than Aldous Huxley or Timothy Leary, stoners are most often portrayed as ‘dazed and confused,’ and could be said to waste the intellectual tradition of mind expansion that Leary represents. That stoner films are, at times, misunderstood to be quintessentially white is hardly suprising. As a social construct that creates, maintains and legitimates white domination, whiteness manifests, as one of its most defining features, an ability to swallow up difference and to insist upon, at critical junctures, a universal subjectivity that disallows for difference (hooks 167). Such universalising not only sanctions co-optation of ethnic cultural expression, it also functions to mask whiteness’s existence, thus reinforcing its very power. Whiteness, as Richard Dyer argues, is simultaneously everywhere and nowhere. It obfuscates itself and its relationship to the particular traits it is said to embody—disinterest, prudence, temperance, rationality, bodily restraint, industriousness (3). Whiteness is thus constructed as neither an ethnic nor racial particularity, but rather the transcendence of such positionality (Wiegman 139). While non-whites are raced, to be white is to be “just human” and thus to possess the power to “claim to speak for the commonality of humanity” whilst denying the accrual of any particular racial privilege (Dyer 2). In refuting its own advantages—which are so wide ranging (from preferential treatment in housing loans, to the freedom to fail without fear of reflecting badly on other whites) that they are, like whiteness itself, both assumed and unproblematic—whiteness instantiates individualism, allowing whites to believe that their successes are in no way the outcome of systematic racial advantage, but rather the product of individual toil (McIntosh; Lipsitz). An examination of the 1978 stoner film Up in Smoke suggests that whatever the ethnic ambiguity of the figure of the stoner, the genre of the stoner film is all about the wasting of whiteness. Up in Smoke opens with two alternating domestic scenes. We first encounter Pedro De Pacas (Cheech Marin) in a cluttered and shadowy room as his siblings romp affectionately upon his back, waking him from his slumber on the couch. Pedro rises, stepping into a bowl of cereal on the floor. He stumbles to the bathroom, where, sleepy and disoriented, he urinates into the laundry hamper. The chaos of Pedro’s disrupted sleep is followed in the film by a more metaphoric awakening as Anthony Stoner (Tommy Chong) determines to leave home. The scene takes place in a far more orderly, light and lavish room. The space’s overpowering whiteness is breached only by the figure of Anthony and his unruly black hair, bushy black beard, and loud Hawaiian shirt, which vibrates with colour against the white walls, white furnishings and white curtains. We watch as Anthony, behind an elaborate bar, prepares a banana protein shake, impassively ignoring his parents, both clothed in all-white, as they clutch martini glasses and berate their son for his lack of ambition. Arnold Stoner [father]: Son, your mother and me would like for you to cozy up to the Finkelstein boy. He's a bright kid, and, uh... he's going to military school, and remember, he was an Eagle Scout. Tempest Stoner [mother]: Arnold…Arnold Stoner: [shouts over/to his wife] Will you shut up? We’re not going to have a family brawl!Tempest Stoner: [continues talking as her husband shouts]…. Retard.Arnold Stoner: [to Anthony] We've put up with a hell of a lot.[Anthony starts blender] Can this wait? ... Build your goddamn muscles, huh? You know, you could build your muscles picking strawberries.You know, bend and scoop... like the Mexicans. Shit, maybe I could get you a job with United Fruit. I got a buddy with United Fruit. ... Get you started. Start with strawberries, you might work your way up to these goddamn bananas! When, boy? When...are you going to get your act together?Anthony: [Burps]Tempest Stoner: Gross.Arnold Stoner: Oh, good God Almighty me. I think he's the Antichrist. Anthony, I want to talk to you. [Anthony gathers his smoothie supplements and begins to walk out of the room.] Now, listen! Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you! You get a goddamn job before sundown, or we're shipping you off to military school with that goddamn Finkelstein shit kid! Son of a bitch!The whiteness of Anthony’s parents is signified so pervasively and so strikingly in this scene—in their improbable white outfits and in the room’s insufferably white décor—that we come to understand it as causative. The rage and racism of Mr. Stoner’s tirade, the scene suggests, is a product of whiteness itself. Given that whiteness achieves and maintains its domination via both ubiquity and invisibility, what Up in Smoke accomplishes in this scene is notable. Arnold Stoner’s tortured syntax (“that goddamn Finkelstein shit kid”) works to “mak[e] whiteness strange” (Dyer 4), while the scene’s exaggerated staging delineates whiteness as “a particular – even peculiar – identity, rather than a presumed norm” (Roediger, Colored White 21). The belligerence of the senior Stoners toward not only their son and each other, but the world at large, in turn, functions to render whiteness intrinsically ruthless and destructive. Anthony’s parents, in all their whiteness, enact David Roediger’s assertion that “it is not merely that ‘Whiteness’s is oppressive and false; it is that ‘Whiteness’s is nothing but oppressive and false” (Toward the Abolition 13).Anthony speaks not a word during the scene. He communicates only by belching and giving his parents the finger as he leaves the room and the home. This departure is significant in that it marks the moment when Anthony, hereafter known only as “Man,” flees the world of whiteness. He winds up taking refuge in the multi-hued world of stonerism, as embodied in the scene that follows, which features Pedro emerging from his home to interact with his Chicano neighbours and to lovingly inspect his car. As a lowrider, a customised vehicle that “begin[s] with the abandoned materials of one tradition (that of mainstream America), … [and is] … then transformed and recycled . . . into new and fresh objects of art which are distinctly Chicano,” Pedro’s car serves as a symbol of the cultural hybridisation that Man is about to undergo (quoted in Ondine 141).As Man’s muteness in the presence of his parents suggests, his racial status seems tentative from the start. Within the world of whiteness, Man is the subaltern, silenced and denigrated, finding voice only after he befriends Pedro. Even as the film identifies Man as white through his parental lineage, it renders indeterminate its own assertion, destabilising any such fixed or naturalised schema of identity. When Man is first introduced to Pedro’s band as their newest member, James, the band’s African American bass player, looks at Man, dressed in the uniform of the band, and asks: “Hey Pedro, where’s the white dude you said was playing the drums?” Clearly, from James’s point of view, the room contains no white dudes, just stoners. Man’s presumed whiteness becomes one of the film’s countless gags, the provocative ambiguity of the casting of a Chinese-European to play a white part underscored in the film by the equally implausible matter of age. Man, according to the film’s narrative, is a high school student; Chong was forty when the film was released. Like his age, Man’s whiteness is never a good fit. That Man ultimately winds up sleeping on the very couch upon which we first encounter Pedro suggests how radical and final the break with his dubious white past is. The “Mexicans” whom his father would mock as fit only for abject labour are amongst those whom Man comes to consider his closest companions. In departing his parents’ white world, and embracing Pedro’s dilapidated, barrio-based world of wastedness, Man traces the geographies narrated by George Lipsitz in The Possessive Investment in Whiteness. Historically, Lipsitz argues, the development of affluent white space (the suburbs) was made possible by the disintegration of African American, Chicano and other minority neighbourhoods disadvantaged by federal, state, and corporate housing, employment, health care, urban renewal, and education policies that favoured whites over non-whites. In this sense, Man’s flight from his parents’ home is a retreat from whiteness itself, and from the advantages that whiteness conveys. In choosing the ramshackle, non-white world of stonerism, Man performs an act of racial treachery. Whiteness, Lipsitz contends, has “cash value,” and “is invested in, like property, but it is also a means of accumulating property and keeping it from others,” which allows for “intergenerational transfers of inherited wealth that pass on the spoils of discrimination to succeeding generations” (vii-viii). Man’s disavowal of the privileges of whiteness is a reckless refusal to accept this racial birthright. Whiteness is thus wasted upon Man because Man wastes his whiteness. Given the centrality of prudence and restraint to hegemonic constructions of whiteness, Man’s willingness to squander the “valuable asset” that is his white inheritance is especially treasonous (Harris 1713). Man is the prodigal son of whiteness, a profligate who pours down the drain “the wages of whiteness” that his forbearers have spent generations accruing and protecting (Roediger, The Wages of Whiteness). His waste not only offends the core values which whiteness is said to comprise, it also denigrates whiteness itself by illuminating the excess of white privilege, as well as the unarticulated excess of meanings that hover around whiteness to create the illusion of transcendence and infinite variety. Man’s performance, like all bad performances of whiteness, “disrupt[s] implicit understandings of what it means to be white” (Hartigan 46). The spectre of seeing white domination go ‘up in smoke’—via wasting, as opposed to hoarding, white privilege—amounts to racial treason, and helps not only to explicate why whites in the film find stonerism so menacing, but also to explain the paradox of “pot [making] the people who don’t smoke it even more paranoid than the people who do” (Patterson). While Tommy Chong’s droll assertion that "what makes us so dangerous is that we're harmless" ridicules such paranoia, it ultimately fails to account for the politics of subversive squandering of white privilege that characterise the stoner film (“Biographies”). Stoners in Up in Smoke, as in most other stoner films, are marked as non-white, through association with ethnic Others, through their rejection of mainstream ideas about work and achievement, and/or through their lack of bodily restraint in relentlessly seeking pleasure, in dressing outrageously, and in refusing to abide conventional grooming habits. Significantly, the non-white status of the stoner is both voluntary and deliberate. While stonerism embraces its own non-whiteness, its Otherness is not signified, primarily, through racial cross-dressing of the sort Eric Lott detects in Elvis, but rather through race-mixing. Stoner collectivity practices an inclusivity that defies America’s historic practice of racial and ethnic segregation (Lott 248). Stonerism further reveals its unwillingness to abide constrictive American whiteness in a scene in which Pedro and Man, both US-born Americans, are deported. The pair are rounded up along with Pedro’s extended family in a raid initiated when Pedro’s cousin “narcs” on himself to la migra (the Immigration and Naturalization Service) in order to get free transport for his extended family to his wedding in Tijuana. Pedro and Man return to the US as unwitting tricksters, bringing back to the US more marijuana than has ever crossed the Mexican-US border at one time, fusing the relationship between transnationalism and wastedness. The disrespect that stoners exhibit for pregnable US borders contests presumed Chicano powerlessness in the face of white force and further affronts whiteness, which historically has mobilised itself most virulently at the threat of alien incursion. Transgression here is wilful and playful; stoners intend to offend normative values and taste through their actions, their dress, and non-white associations as part of the project of forging a new hybridised, transnational subjectivity that threatens to lay waste to whiteness’s purity and privilege. Stoners invite the scrutiny of white authority with their outrageous attire and ethnically diverse composition, turning the “inevitability of surveillance” (Borrie 87) into an opportunity to enact their own wastedness—their wasted privilege, their wasted youth, their wasted potential—before a gaze that is ultimately confounded and threatened by the chaotic hybridity with which it is faced (Hebdige 26). By perpetually displaying his/her wasted Otherness, the stoner makes of him/herself a “freak,” a label cops use derisively throughout Up in Smoke to denote the wasted without realising that stoners define themselves in precisely such terms, and, by doing so, obstruct whiteness’s assertion of universal subjectivity. Pedro’s cousin Strawberry (Tom Skerritt), a pot dealer, enacts freakishness by exhibiting a large facial birthmark and by suffering from Vietnam-induced Post Traumatic Stress disorder. A freak in every sense of the word, Strawberry is denied white status by virtue of physical and mental defect. But Strawberry, as a stoner, ultimately wants whiteness even less than it wants him. The defects that deny him membership in the exclusive “club” that is whiteness prove less significant than the choice he makes to defect from the ranks of whiteness and join with Man in the decision to waste his whiteness wantonly (“Editorial”). Stoner masculinity is represented as similarly freakish and defective. While white authority forcefully frustrates the attempts of Pedro and Man to “score” marijuana, the duo’s efforts to “score” sexually are thwarted by their own in/action. More often than not, wastedness produces impotence in Up in Smoke, either literally or figuratively, wherein the confusion and misadventures that attend pot-smoking interrupt foreplay. The film’s only ostensible sex scene is unconsummated, a wasted opportunity for whiteness to reproduce itself when Man sleeps through his girlfriend’s frenzied discussion of sex. During the course of Up in Smoke, Man dresses as a woman while hitchhiking, Pedro mistakes Man for a woman, Man sits on Pedro’s lap when they scramble to change seats whilst being pulled over by the police, Man suggests that Pedro has a “small dick,” Pedro reports liking “manly breasts,” and Pedro—unable to urinate in the presence of Sgt. Stedenko—tells his penis that if it does not perform, he will “put [it] back in the closet.” Such attenuations of the lead characters’ masculinity climax in the penultimate scene, in which Pedro, backed by his band, performs “Earache My Eye,” a song he has just composed backstage, whilst adorned in pink tutu, garter belt, tassle pasties, sequined opera mask and Mickey Mouse ears: My momma talkin’ to me tryin’ to tell me how to liveBut I don't listen to her cause my head is like a sieveMy daddy he disowned me cause I wear my sister's clothesHe caught me in the bathroom with a pair of pantyhoseMy basketball coach he done kicked me off the teamFor wearing high heeled sneakers and acting like a queen“Earache My Eye” corroborates the Othered natured of stonerism by marking stoners, already designated as non-white, as non-straight. In a classic iteration of a bad gender performance, the scene rejects both whiteness and its hegemonic partners-in-crime, heterosexuality and normative masculinity (Butler 26). Here stoners waste not only their whiteness, but also their white masculinity. Whiteness, and its dependence upon “intersection … [with] interlocking axes [of power such as] gender … [and] sexuality,” is “outed” in this scene (Shome 368). So, too, is it enfeebled. In rendering masculinity freakish and defective, the film threatens whiteness at its core. For if whiteness can not depend upon normative masculinity for its reproduction, then, like Man’s racial birthright, it is wasted. The stoner’s embodiment of freakishness further works to emphasise wasted whiteness by exposing just how hysterical whiteness’s defense of its own normativity can be. Up in Smoke frequently inflates not only the effects of marijuana, but also the eccentricities of those who smoke it, a strategy which means that much of the film’s humour turns on satirising hegemonic stereotypes of marijuana smokers. Equally, Cheech Marin’s exaggerated “slapstick, one-dimensional [portrayal] of [a] Chicano character” works to render ridiculous the very stereotypes his character incarnates (List 183). While the film deconstructs processes of social construction, it also makes extensive use of counter-stereotyping in its depictions of characters marked as white. The result is that whiteness’s “illusion of [its] own infinite variety” is contested and the lie of whiteness as non-raced is exposed, helping to explain the stoner’s decision to waste his/her whiteness (Dyer 12; 2). In Up in Smoke whiteness is the colour of straightness. Straights, who are willing neither to smoke pot nor to tolerate the smoking of pot by others/Others, are so comprehensively marked as white in the film that whiteness and straightness become isomorphic. As a result, the same stereotypes are mobilised in representing whiteness and straightness: incompetence, belligerence, hypocrisy, meanspiritedness, and paranoia, qualities that are all the more oppressive because virtually all whites/straights in the film occupy positions of authority. Anthony’s spectacularly white parents, as we have seen, are bigoted and dominating. Their whiteness is further impugned by alcohol, which fuels Mr. Stoner’s fury and Mrs. Stoner’s unintelligibility. That the senior Stoners are drunk before noon works, of course, to expose the hypocrisy of those who would indict marijuana use while ignoring the social damage alcohol can produce. Their inebriation (revealed as chronic in the DVD’s outtake scenes) takes on further significance when it is configured as a decidedly white attribute. Throughout the film, only characters marked as white consume alcohol—most notably, the judge who is discovered to be drinking vodka whist adjudicating drug charges against Pedro and Man—therefore dislodging whiteness’s self-construction as temperate, and suggesting just how wasted whiteness is. While stonerism is represented as pacific, drunkenness is of a piece with white/straight bellicosity. In Up in Smoke, whites/straights crave confrontation and discord, especially the angry, uptight, and vainglorious narcotics cop Sgt. Stedenko (Stacey Keech) who inhabits so many of the film’s counter-stereotypes. While a trio of white cops roughly apprehend and search a carload of innocent nuns in a manner that Man describes as “cold blooded,” Stedenko, unawares in the foreground, gives an interview about his plans for what he hopes will be the biggest border drug bust in US history: “[Reporter:] Do you expect to see any violence here today? [Sgt. Stedenko:] I certainly hope so.” Stedenko’s desire to act violently against stoners echoes mythologies of white regeneration in the Old West, wherein whiteness refurbished itself through violent attacks on Native Americans, whose wasteful cultures failed to make “civilised” use of western lands (Slotkin 565).White aggression is relentlessly depicted in the film, with one important exception: the instance of the stoned straight. Perhaps no other trope is as defining of the genre, as is the scene wherein a straight person accidentally becomes stoned. Up in Smoke offers several examples, most notably the scene in which a motorcycle cop pulls over Pedro and Man as they drive a van belonging to Pedro’s Uncle Chuey. In a plot twist requiring a degree of willing suspension of disbelief that even wasted audiences might find a stretch, the exterior shell of the van, unbeknownst to Pedro and Man, is made entirely of marijuana which has started to smoulder around the exhaust pipe. The cop, who becomes intoxicated whilst walking through the fumes, does not hassle Pedro and Man, as expected, but instead asks for a bite of their hot dog and then departs happily, instructing the duo to “have a nice day.” In declining, or perhaps simply forgetting, to exercise his authority, the cop demonstrates the regenerative potential not of violent whiteness but rather of hybrid wastedness. Marijuana here is transformative, morphing straight consciousness into stoner consciousness and, in the process, discharging all the uptight, mean-spirited, unnecessary, and hence wasteful baggage of whiteness along the way. While such a utopian potential for pot is both upheld and satirised in the film, the scene amounts to far more than an inconsequential generic gag, in that it argues for the disavowal of whiteness via the assumption of the voluntary Otherness that is stonerism. Whiteness, the scene suggests, can be cast off, discarded, wasted and thus surmounted. Whites, for want of a better phrase, simply need to ‘just say no’ to whiteness in order to excrete the brutality that is its necessary affliction and inevitable result. While Up in Smoke laudably offers a powerful refusal to horde the assets of whiteness, the film fails to acknowledge that ‘just saying no’ is, indeed, one of whiteness’s exclusive privileges, since whites and only whites possess the liberty to refuse the advantages whiteness bestows. Non-whites possess no analogical ability to jettison the social constructions to which they are subjected, to refuse the power of dominant classes to define their subjectivity. Neither does the film confront the fact that Man nor any other of Up in Smoke’s white freaks are disallowed from re-embracing their whiteness, and its attendant value, at any time. However inchoate the film’s challenge to racial privilege, Up in Smoke’s celebration of the subversive pleasures of wasting whiteness offers a tentative, if bleary, first step toward ‘the abolition of whiteness.’ Its utopian vision of a post-white hybridised subjectivity, however dazed and confused, is worthy of far more serious contemplation than the film, taken at face value, might seem to suggest. Perhaps Up in Smoke is a stoner film that should also be viewed while sober. ReferencesBill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure. Dir. Stephen Herek. Orion Pictures Corporation, 1989.“Biographies”. 10 June 2010 ‹http://www.cheechandchongfans.com/biography.html›. Borrie, Lee. "Wild Ones: Containment Culture and 1950s Youth Rebellion”. Diss. University of Canterbury, 2007.Butler, Judith. "Critically Queer”. GLQ: A Journal of Lesbian and Gay Studies 1.1 (1993): 17-32.Chavoya, C. Ondine. “Customized Hybrids: The Art of Ruben Ortiz Torres and Lowriding in Southern California”. CR: The New Centennial Review 4.2 (2004): 141-84.Clerks. Dir. Kevin Smith. Miramax Films, 1994. Dazed and Confused. Dir. Richard Linklater. Cineplex Odeon Films, 1993. Dude, Where’s My Car? Dir. Danny Leiner. Twentieth Century Fox, 2000.Dyer, Richard. White: Essays on Race and Culture. London: Routledge, 1997.“Editorial: Abolish the White Race—By Any Means Necessary”. Race Traitor 1 (1993). 9 June 2010 ‹http://racetraitor.org/abolish.html›.Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Dir. Amy Heckerling. Universal Pictures, 1982.Friday. Dir. F. Gary Gray. New Line Cinema, 1995.Half Baked. Dir. Tamra Davis. Universal Pictures, 1998.Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle. Dir. Danny Leiner. New Line Cinema, 2004.Harris, Cheryl. “Whiteness as Property”. Harvard Law Review 106 (1993): 1707-1791. Hartigan, John Jr. “Objectifying ‘Poor Whites and ‘White Trash’ in Detroit”. White Trash: Race and Class in America. Eds. Matt Wray, and Annalee Newitz. NY: Routledge, 1997. 41-56.Hebdige, Dick. Subculture: The Meaning of Style. London: Methuen, 1979.hooks, bell. Black Looks: Race and Representation. Boston: South End Press, 1992.How High. Dir. Jesse Dylan. Universal Pictures, 2001.Lipsitz, George. The Possessive Investment in Whiteness: How White People Profit fromIdentity Politics. Philadelphia: Temple UP, 2006. List, Christine. "Self-Directed Stereotyping in the Films of Cheech Marin”. Chicanos and Film: Representation and Resistance. Ed. Chon A. Noriega. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1992. 183-94.Lott, Eric. “Racial Cross-Dressing and the Construction of American Whiteness”. The Cultural Studies Reader. 2nd ed. Ed. Simon During. London: Routledge, 1999. 241-55.McIntosh, Peggy. “White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack”. 10 June 2010 ‹http://www.case.edu/president/aaction/UnpackingTheKnapsack.pdf›.Meltzer, Marisa. “Leisure and Innocence: The Eternal Appeal of the Stoner Movie”. Slate 26 June 2007. 10 Aug. 2010 ‹http://www.slate.com/id/2168931›.Toni Morrison. Playing in the Dark: Whiteness and the Literary Imagination. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1992.Patterson, John. “High and Mighty”. The Guardian 7 June 2008. 10 June 2010 ‹http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2008/jun/07/2›.Roediger, David. Colored White: Transcending the Racial Past. Berkeley: U of California P, 2002.Roediger, David. The Wages of Whiteness: Race and the Making of the American Working Class. Rev. ed. London: Verso Books, 1999.———. Towards the Abolition of Whiteness: Essays on Race, Class and Politics. London: Verso Books, 1994.Shome, Raka. “Outing Whiteness”. Critical Studies in Media Communication 17.3 (2000): 366-71.Slotkin, Richard. Regeneration through Violence: The Mythology of the American Frontier. Norman: U of Oklahoma P, 1973.Up in Smoke. Dir. Lou Adler. Paramount Pictures, 1978.Wayne’s World. Dir. Penelope Spheeris. Paramount Pictures, 1992.Wiegman, Robyn. “Whiteness Studies and the Paradox of Particularity”. boundary 2 26.3 (1999): 115-50.

IntroductionI have been studying the creation of Metro style train travel in Sydney for over a decade. My focus has been on the impact that media has had on the process (see Richardson, “Curatorial”; “Upheaval”; “Making”). Through extensive expert, public, and media research, I have investigated the coalitions and alliances that have formed (and disintegrated) between political, bureaucratic, news media, and public actors and the influences at work within these actor-networks. As part of this project, I visited an underground Métro turning fifty in Montreal, Canada. After many years studying the development of a train that wasn’t yet tangible, I wanted to ask a functional train the simple ethnomethodological/Latourian style question, “what do you do for a city and its people?” (de Vries). Therefore, in addition to research conducted in Montreal, I spent ten days wandering through many of the entrances, tunnels, staircases, escalators, mezzanines, platforms, doorways, and carriages of which the Métro system consists. The purpose was to observe the train in situ in order to broaden potential conceptualisations of what a train does for a city such as Montreal, with a view of improving the ideas and messages that would be used to “sell” future rapid rail projects in other cities such as Sydney. This article outlines a selection of the pathways wandered, not only to illustrate the power of social research based on physical wandering, but also the potential power the metaphorical and conceptual wandering an Actor-Network Theory (ANT) assemblage affords social research for media communications.Context, Purpose, and ApproachANT is a hybrid theory/method for studying an arena of the social, such as the significance of a train to a city like Montreal. This type of study is undertaken by following the actors (Latour, Reassembling 12). In ANT, actors do something, as the term suggests. These actions have affects and effects. These might be contrived and deliberate influences or completely circumstantial and accidental impacts. Actors can be people as we are most commonly used to understanding them, and they can also be texts, technological devices, software programs, natural phenomena, or random occurrences. Most significantly though, actors are their “relations” (Harman 17). This means that they are only present if they are relating to others. These relations and the resulting influences and impacts are called networks. A network in the ANT sense is not as simple as the lines that connect train stations on a rail map. Without actions, relations, influences, and impacts, there are no actors. Hence the hyphen in actor-network; the actor and the network are symbiotic. The network, rendered visible through actor associations, consists of the tenuous connections that “shuttle back and forth” between actors even in spite of the fact their areas of knowledge and reality may be completely separate (Latour Modern 3). ANT, therefore, may be considered an empirical practice of tracing the actors and the network of influences and impacts that they both help to shape and are themselves shaped by. To do this, central ANT theorist Bruno Latour employs a simple research question: “what do you do?” This is because in the process of doing, somebody or something is observed to be affecting other people or things and an actor-network becomes identifiable. Latour later learned that his approach shared many parallels with ethnomethodology. This was a discovery that more concretely set the trajectory of his work away from a social science that sought explanations “about why something happens, to ontological ones, that is, questions about what is going on” (de Vries). So, in order to make sense of people’s actions and relations, the focus of research became asking the deceptively simple question while refraining as much as possible “from offering descriptions and explanations of actions in terms of schemes taught in social theory classes” (14).In answering this central ANT question, studies typically wander in a metaphorical sense through an array or assemblage (Law) of research methods such as formal and informal interviews, ethnographic style observation, as well as the content analysis of primary and secondary texts (see Latour, Aramis). These were the methods adopted for my Montreal research—in addition to fifteen in-depth expert and public interviews conducted in October 2017, ten days were spent physically wandering and observing the train in action. I hoped that in understanding what the train does for the city and its people, the actor-network within which the train is situated would be revealed. Of course, “what do you do?” is a very broad question. It requires context. In following the influence of news media in the circuitous development of rapid rail transit in Sydney, I have been struck by the limited tropes through which the potential for rapid rail is discussed. These tropes focus on technological, functional, and/or operational aspects (see Budd; Faruqi; Hasham), costs, funding and return on investment (see Martin and O’Sullivan; Saulwick), and the potential to alleviate peak hour congestion (see Clennell; West). As an expert respondent in my Sydney research, a leading Australian architect and planner, states, “How boring and unexciting […] I mean in Singapore it is the most exciting […] the trains are fantastic […] that wasn’t sold to the [Sydney] public.” So, the purpose of the Montreal research is to expand conceptualisations of the potential for rapid rail infrastructure to influence a city and improve communications used to sell projects in the future, as well as to test the role of both physical and metaphorical ANT style wanderings in doing so. Montreal was chosen for three reasons. First, the Métro had recently turned fifty, which made the comparison between the fledgling and mature systems topical. Second, the Métro was preceded by decades of media discussion (Gilbert and Poitras), which parallels the development of rapid transit in Sydney. Finally, a different architect designed each station and most stations feature art installations (Magder). Therefore, the Métro appeared to have transcended the aforementioned functional and numerically focused tropes used to justify the Sydney system. Could such a train be considered a long-term success?Wandering and PathwaysIn ten days I rode the Montreal Métro from end to end. I stopped at all the stations. I wandered around. I treated wandering not just as a physical research activity, but also as an illustrative metaphor for an assemblage of research practices. This assemblage culminates in testimony, anecdotes, stories, and descriptions through which an actor-network may be glimpsed. Of course, it is incomplete—what I have outlined below represents only a few pathways. However, to think that an actor-network can ever be traversed in its entirety is to miss the point. Completion is a fallacy. Wandering doesn’t end at a finish line. There are always pathways left untrodden. I have attempted not to overanalyse. I have left contradictions unresolved. I have avoided the temptation to link paths through tenuous byways. Some might consider that I have meandered, but an actor-network is never linear. I can only hope that my wanderings, as curtailed as they may be, prove nuanced, colourful, and rich—if not compelling. ANT encourages us to rethink social research (Latour, Reassembling). Central to this is acknowledging (and becoming comfortable with) our own role as researcher in the illumination of the actor-network itself.Here are some of the Montreal pathways wandered:First Impressions I arrive at Montreal airport late afternoon. The apartment I have rented is conveniently located between two Métro stations—Mont Royal and Sherbrooke. I use my phone and seek directions by public transport. To my surprise, the only option is the bus. Too tired to work out connections, I decide instead to follow the signs to the taxi rank. Here, I queue. We are underway twenty minutes later. Travelling around peak traffic, we move from one traffic jam to the next. The trip is slow. Finally ensconced in the apartment, I reflect on how different the trip into Montreal had been, from what I had envisaged. The Métro I had travelled to visit was conspicuous in its total absence.FloatingIt is a feeling of floating that first strikes me when riding the Métro. It runs on rubber tyres. The explanation for the choice of this technology differs. There are reports that it was the brainchild of strong-willed mayor, Jean Drapeau, who believed the new technology would showcase Montreal as a modern world-scale metropolis (Gilbert and Poitras). However, John Martins-Manteiga provides a less romantic account, stating that the decision was made because tyres were cheaper (47). I assume the rubber tyres create the floating sensation. Add to this the famous warmth of the system (Magder; Hazan, Hot) and it has a thoroughly calming, even lulling, effect.Originally, I am planning to spend two whole days riding the Métro in its entirety. I make handwritten notes. On the first day, at mid-morning, nausea develops. I am suffering motion sickness. This is a surprise. I have always been fine to read and write on trains, unlike in a car or bus. It causes a moment of realisation. I am effectively riding a bus. This is an unexpected side-effect. My research program changes—I ride for a maximum of two hours at a time and my note taking becomes more circumspect. The train as actor is influencing the research program and the data being recorded in unexpected ways. ArtThe stained-glass collage at Berri-Uquam, by Pierre Gaboriau and Pierre Osterrath, is grand in scale, intricately detailed and beautiful. It sits above the tunnel from which the trains enter and leave the platform. It somehow seems wholly connected to the train as a result—it frames and announces arrivals and departures. Other striking pieces include the colourful, tiled circles from the mezzanine above the platform at station Peel and the beautiful stained-glass panels on the escalator at station Charlevoix. As a public respondent visiting from Chicago contends, “I just got a sense of exploration—that I wanted to have a look around”.Urban FormAn urban planner asserts that the Métro is responsible for the identity and diversity of urban culture that Montreal is famous for. As everyone cannot live right above a Métro station, there are streets around stations where people walk to the train. As there is less need for cars, these streets are made friendlier for walkers, precipitating a cycle. Furthermore, pedestrian-friendly streets promote local village style commerce such as shops, cafes, bars, and restaurants. So, there is not only more access on foot, but also more incentive to access. The walking that the Métro induces improves the dynamism and social aspects of neighbourhoods, a by-product of which is a distinct urban form and culture for different pockets of the city. The actor-network broadens. In following the actors, I now have to wander beyond the physical limits of the system itself. The streets I walk around station Mont Royal are shopping and restaurant strips, rich with foot traffic at all times of day; it is a vibrant and enticing place to wander.Find DiningThe popular MTL blog published a map of the best restaurants the Métro provides access to (Hazan, Restaurant).ArchitectureStation De La Savane resembles a retro medieval dungeon. It evokes thoughts of the television series Game of Thrones. Art and architecture work in perfect harmony. The sculpture in the foyer by Maurice Lemieux resembles a deconstructed metal mace hanging on a brutalist concrete wall. It towers above a grand staircase and abuts a fence that might ring a medieval keep. Up close I realise it is polished, precisely cut cylindrical steel. A modern fence referencing another time and place. Descending to the platform, craggy concrete walls are pitted with holes. I get the sense of peering through these into the hidden chambers of a crypt. Overlaying all of this is a strikingly modern series of regular and irregular, bold vertical striations cut deeply into the concrete. They run from floor to ceiling to add to a cathedral-like sense of scale. It’s warming to think that such a whimsical train station exists anywhere in the world. Time WarpA public respondent describes the Métro:It’s a little bit like a time machine. It’s a piece of the past and piece of history […] still alive now. I think that it brings art or form or beauty into everyday life. […] You’re going from one place to the next, but because of the history and the story of it you could stop and breathe and take it in a little bit more.Hold ups and HostagesA frustrated General Manager of a transport advocacy group states in an interview:Two minutes of stopping in the Métro is like Armageddon in Montreal—you see it on every media, on every smartphone [...] We are so captive in the Métro [there is a] loss of control.Further, a transport modelling expert asserts:You’re a hostage when you’re in transportation. If the Métro goes out, then you really are stuck. Unfortunately, it does go out often enough. If you lose faith in a mode of transportation, it’s going to be very hard to get you back.CommutingIt took me a good week before I started to notice how tired some of the Métro stations had grown. I felt my enthusiasm dip when I saw the estimated arrival time lengthen on the electronic noticeboard. Anger rose as a young man pushed past me from behind to get out of a train before I had a chance to exit. These tendrils of the actor-network were not evident to me in the first few days. Most interview respondents state that after a period of time passengers take less notice of the interesting and artistic aspects of the Métro. They become commuters. Timeliness and consistency become the most important aspects of the system.FinaleI deliberately visit station Champ-de-Mars last. Photos convince me that I am going to end my Métro exploration with an experience to savour. The station entry and gallery is iconic. Martins-Manteiga writes, “The stained-glass artwork by Marcelle Ferron is almost a religious experience; it floods in and splashes down below” (306). My timing is off though. On this day, the soaring stained-glass windows are mostly hidden behind protective wadding. The station is undergoing restoration. Travelling for the last time back towards station Mont Royal, my mood lightens. Although I had been anticipating this station for some time, in many respects this is a revealing conclusion to my Métro wanderings.What Do You Do?When asked what the train does, many respondents took a while to answer or began with common tropes around moving people. As a transport project manager asserts, “in the world of public transport, the perfect trip is the one you don’t notice”. A journalist gives the most considered and interesting answer. He contends:I think it would say, “I hold the city together culturally, economically, physically, logistically—that’s what I do […] I’m the connective tissue of this city”. […] How else do you describe infrastructure that connects poor neighbourhoods to rich neighbourhoods, downtown to outlying areas, that supports all sorts of businesses both inside it and immediately adjacent to it and has created these axes around the city that pull in almost everybody [...] And of course, everyone takes it for granted […] We get pissed off when it’s late.ConclusionNo matter how real a transportation system may be, it can always be made a little less real. Today, for example, the Paris metro is on strike for the third week in a row. Millions of Parisians are learning to get along without it, by taking their cars or walking […] You see? These enormous hundred-year-old technological monsters are no more real than the four-year-old Aramis is unreal: They all need allies, friends […] There’s no inertia, no irreversibility; there’s no autonomy to keep them alive. (Latour, Aramis 86)Through ANT-based physical and metaphorical wanderings, we find many pathways that illuminate what a train does. We learn from various actors in the actor-network through which the train exists. We seek out its “allies” and “friends”. We wander, piecing together as much of the network as we can. The Métro does lots of things. It has many influences and it influences many. It is undeniably an actor in an actor-network. Transport planners would like it to appear seamless—commuters entering and leaving without really noticing the in-between. And sometimes it appears this way. However, when the commuter is delayed, this appearance is shattered. If a signal fails or an engine falters, the Métro, through a process mediated by word of mouth and/or social and mainstream media, is suddenly rendered tired and obsolete. Or is it historic and quaint? Is the train a technical problem for the city of Montreal or is it characterful and integral to the city’s identity? It is all these things and many more. The actor-network is illusive and elusive. Pathways are extensive. The train floats. The train is late. The train makes us walk. The train has seeded many unique villages, much loved. The train is broken. The train is healthy for its age. The train is all that is right with Montreal. The train is all that is wrong with Montreal. The artwork and architecture mean nothing. The artwork and architecture mean everything. Is the train overly limited by the tyres that keep it underground? Of course, it is. Of course, it isn’t. Does 50 years of history matter? Of course, it does. Of course, it doesn’t. It thrives. It’s tired. It connects. It divides. It’s functional. It’s dirty. It’s beautiful. It’s something to be proud of. It’s embarrassing. A train offers many complex and fascinating pathways. It is never simply an object; it lives and breathes in the network because we live and breathe around it. It stops being effective. It starts becoming affective. Sydney must learn from this. My wanderings demonstrate that the Métro cannot be extricated from what Montreal has become over the last half century. In May 2019, Sydney finally opened its first Metro rail link. And yet, this link and other ongoing metro projects continue to be discussed through statistics and practicalities (Sydney Metro). This offers no affective sense of the pathways that are, and will one day be, created. By selecting and appropriating relevant pathways from cities such as Montreal, and through our own wanderings and imaginings, we can make projections of what a train will do for a city like Sydney. We can project a rich and vibrant actor-network through the media in more emotive and powerful ways. Or, can we not at least supplement the economic, functional, or technocratic accounts with other wanderings? Of course, we can’t. Of course, we can. ReferencesBudd, Henry. “Single-Deck Trains in North West Rail Link.” The Daily Telegraph 20 Jun. 2012. 17 Jan. 2018 <https://www.dailytelegraph.com.au/news/nsw/single-deck-trains-in-north-west-rail-link/news-story/f5255d11af892ebb3938676c5c8b40da>.Clennell, Andrew. “All Talk as City Chokes to Death.” The Daily Telegraph 7 Nov. 2011. 2 Jan 2012 <http://www.dailytelegraph.com.au/news/opinion/all-talk-as-city-chokes-to-death/story-e6frezz0-1226187007530>.De Vries, Gerard. Bruno Latour. Cambridge, UK: Polity, 2016.Faruqi, Mehreen. “Is the New Sydney Metro Privatization of the Rail Network by Stealth?” Sydney Morning Herald 7 July 2015. 19 Jan. 2018 <http://www.smh.com.au/comment/is-the-new-sydney-metro-privatisation-of-the-rail-network-by-stealth-20150707-gi6rdg.html>.Game of Thrones. HBO, 2011–2019.Gilbert, Dale, and Claire Poitras. “‘Subways Are Not Outdated’: Debating the Montreal Métro 1940–60.” The Journal of Transport History 36.2 (2015): 209–227. Harman, Graham. Prince of Networks: Bruno Latour and Metaphysics. Melbourne: re.press, 2009.Hasham, Nicole. “Driverless Trains Plan as Berejiklian Does a U-Turn.” Sydney Morning Herald 6 Jun. 2013. 16 Jan. 2018 <https://www.smh.com.au/national/nsw/driverless-trains-plan-as-berejiklian-does-a-u-turn-20130606-2ns4h.html>.Hazan, Jeremy. “Montreal’s First-Ever Official Metro Restaurant Map.” MTL Blog 17 May 2010. 11 Oct. 2017 <https://www.mtlblog.com/things-to-do-in-mtl/montreals-first-ever-official-metro-restaurant-map/1>.———. “This Is Why Montreal’s STM Metro Has Been So Hot Lately.” MTL Blog 22 Sep. 2017. 11 Oct. 2017 <https://www.mtlblog.com/whats-happening/this-is-why-montreals-stm-metro-has-been-so-hot-lately>. Latour, Bruno. We Have Never Been Modern. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1993.———. Aramis: Or the Love of Technology. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1996. ———. Reassembling the Social: An Introduction to Actor-Network-Theory. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005.Law, John. After Method: Mess in Social Science Research. New York: Routledge, 2004.Magder, Jason. “The Metro at 50: Building the Network.” Montreal Gazette 13 Oct. 2016. 18 Oct. 2017 <http://montrealgazette.com/news/local-news/the-metro-at-50-building-the-network>.Martin, Peter, and Matt O’Sullivan. “Cabinet Leak: Sydney to Parramatta in 15 Minutes Possible, But Not Preferred.” Sydney Morning Herald 14 Aug. 2017. 7 Dec. 2017 <https://www.smh.com.au/national/nsw/cabinet-leak-sydney-to-parramatta-in-15-minutes-possible-but-not-preferred-20170813-gxv226.html>.Martins-Manteiga, John. Métro: Design in Motion. Dominion Modern: Canada 2011.Richardson, Nicholas. “Political Upheaval in Australia: Media, Foucault and Shocking Policy.” ANZCA Conference Proceedings 2015. Eds. D. Paterno, M. Bourk, and D. Matheson.———. “A Curatorial Turn in Policy Development? Managing the Changing Nature of Policymaking Subject to Mediatisation” M/C Journal 18.4 (2015). 7 Aug. 2019 <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/index.php/mcjournal/article/view/998>.———. “‘Making it Happen’: Deciphering Government Branding in Light of the Sydney Building Boom.” M/C Journal 20.2 (2017). 7 Aug. 2019 <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/index.php/mcjournal/article/view/1221>.Saulwick, Jacob. “Plenty of Sums in Rail Plans But Not Everything Adds Up.” Sydney Morning Herald 7 Nov. 2011. 17 Apr. 2012 <http://www.smh.com.au/opinion/politics/plenty-of-sums-in-rail-plans-but-not-everything-adds-up-20111106-1n1wn.html>.Sydney Metro. 16 July 2019. <https://www.sydneymetro.info/>.West, Andrew. “Second Harbour Crossing – or Chaos.” Sydney Morning Herald 31 May 2010. 17 Jan. 2018 <http://www.smh.com.au/nsw/second-harbour-crossing--or-chaos-20100530-wnik.html>.