Journal articles on the topic 'Court Culture 8th-10th century'

The poetry of Arab-Andalusian poets is a bridge between Eastern and Western culture. Its roots date back to the sixth century, when the first Bedouin songs resounded in the limitless areas of the Arabian desert. His echoes resounded in the poetry of Provençal troubadours. Traces of this poetry can be found in the works of Renaissance poets, including Petrarc. Elements of Andalusian poetry were also visible in the poetry of the Spanish court since the 16th century. The characteristic poetic forms still appeared in 20th century poetry – at least one of the most outstanding Spanish poets, Federico Garcia Llorca, reached for it. Its greatest prosperity was in the 10th andd 11th centuries, and among the outstanding Andalusian poets were both men and women. The main motive of this poetry was unfulfilled love, which remained the dominant element of modern European court poetry.

The main objective of this study is to introduce the Czech reader to the hitherto unexplored phenomenon of cuteness (kawaii) in Japanese culture and society. The term kawaii, which is used to describe cute objects (toddlers, animals, mascots, toys), represents one of the most culturally persuasive aesthetics of the new millennium and is a significant economic driver of Japan’s cultural industry (manga, anime, fashion, music). In other words, kawaii is not a temporary fashion trend – it is virtually a ‘standard aesthetic’ that has permeated all areas of Japanese everyday life. In this study, I focus on three thematic units, namely psychology, aesthetics, and history of cuteness. Within psychology, I analyze kawaii as an intense emotional response to some significant stimulus that triggers a ‘maternal’ desire. Within aesthetics, I firstly focus on the stylized Japanese script, which started the kawaii fever in 1970s. Secondly, I point out the main specifics of Japanese product design with kawaii features and explain how kawaii aesthetics permeated the field of Japanese fashion. Thirdly, I focus on various mascots and animal characters that represent the main platform of kawaii aesthetics today, and demonstrate how Japanese authorities and institutions utilize this aesthetic to maintain the status quo. Finally, I offer a brief history of Japanese cuteness, which began in court literature of the 10th century and culminated in the second half of the 20th century.

The article concentrates on an analysis of the forms of castles erected by the Teutonic Order in their conquered domain in Prussia, which were a medium of ideas and manifestation of symbols. The most significant forms were structures of the castell type. That type of fortresses, which had been built since the Antiquity, usually associated with strong centralized state authority and used as a sign of the power propaganda, was later adopted in Western Europe. The Teutonic Knights adjusted that castle type to their needs in the 1270s and 1280s as a sign of the state and the centralized idea of the knight-monks’ authority. Repetitiveness and perfect geometric archi- tectonic forms depicted the character of their rulership, modelled after the Divine Order, and their role as milites Christi, defenders of Christianity. Towers were another construction element with a strong semantic charge as a sign and symbol of feudal power. The beginnings of tower-type residences date back to the 10th century Normandy, from where they spread around Europe in the following centuries. Habitable towers were also used by the Teutonic Order, who built them in 14th century as residences of some lower rank officials. Erecting a palace for the grand masters in Malbork at the end of the 14th century, they also referred to the form of donjon as a symbol of a sovereign and a ruler seat. The castle in Sztum was a result of yet another tradition – a residence situated nearby the capital as a leisure and hunting place for the overlord. That was an expression of court culture and a sign of prestige of a ruler – in this case, the grand master.

The article examines a kind of community of aesthetic tastes that was connecting Arab and Byzantine courtly culture. This community concerned the secular and luxurious works of art. The silver casket, called a Saracenic-Sicilian, from the Wawel Cathedral Treasury in Cracow will serve as the starting point to gain a true appreciation of the complex artistic relationship between the Byzantine Empire and the Islamic world in the Middle Ages. It appears highly probable that the casket was created in the twelfth century. It was published at once after the discovery (8th March 1881) and since then, researchers argue about the place of origin of the box. Some suggest that the casket could be a product of Arabic or Persian art, while others propose either Byzantine or Sicilian workshops. What is more, even an thorough stylistic and iconographic analysis does not allow for an unambiguous resolution of the problem of provenance of the Wawel box. Lack of a resolution suggests that this piece of art was directed to a member of the cosmopolitan elite of – Arabic or Byzantine – court, which took delight in sophisticated and expensive luxury items. It is worth noting that in this case, matter of religion did not play a crucial role. For this reason, the depicted scenes and decorative details have an universal character. In order to present this specific synthesis of Arabic and Byzantine secular art, the motifs of a griffin and a hare, decorating the casket will be considered.

The Early Iron Age (EIA, 11th – 8th century BC) in Greece is the transitional period following the end of the Mycenaean civilisation. The first half of this period is the so-called Protogeometric period (11th – 10th century BC) during which the mainland communities had to recover from the collapse of the Mycenaean palatial system, a centralised economic system of a stratified society. Social and economic structures were both severely damaged in the 12th century BC, resulting in various changes in technology, material culture and mortuary practices across the entire Aegean in the ensuing periods. These changes also affected the region of Thessaly, located at the northern margin of the Mycenaean world.

Casting molds for making small ornaments of lead or tin alloys were found in different parts of the East Europe in the areas of various archaeological cultures. This simple technology and simple shapes of products were in use by many peoples since 3rd till 10th century and perhaps even earlier. Lead castings and stone molds for their manufacture attracted the attention of researchers of Early Slavic archaeology since discovery of the Velyki Budky hoard (1981) and Bernashivka workshop (1990). The obvious problem was the chronological and geographic lacuna between the Slavic Bernashivka type ornaments (6th—7th centuries) and ornaments of the Kamno-Rхuge type (8th—10th centuries) from the Eastern Baltic region. Several versions explaining the similarity of finds from the northern and southern areas have been proposed: common substrate, population migrations, imitation of some fashion etc. In recent years two molds for some ornaments of the Kamno-Rхuge type have been discovered at the Romny culture hillforts (Sverdlovske 1, Vorkhol II), which demonstrated the lasting of the tradition in the south until the 10th century. A problem of the upper limit for existence of the Bernashivka type ornaments can be clarified using the mold find from Khodosivka settlement. The mold was discovered by expedition of E. O. Petrovska in 1976 during a survey along the left edge of the Gley ravine (Kozakiv ravine) near the Khodosivka hillfort. It was found in remaining part of a pit dwelling in context with fragments of hand-made and wheel-made pots of the Volyntsevo culture. The object dates back to the second half of the 8th century — early 9th cen-tury. Negatives of ornaments are carved on both sides of the mold. A diamond-shaped patch carved on the main side. On the reverse side the negatives of round plaques are carved and probably loops for attaching the same plaques. There is also circular decoration presents, probably, of a circular pendant. The closest analogies to such decorations were found in the Bernashivka workshop, and also at the molds from the Lower Danube region. Products from the Khodosivka mold look quite archaic and simple in comparing to gold and silver jewelry from hoards of the Volyntsevo culture. Such production was undoubtedly the part of nonprofessional home craft.

The article is devoted to the analysis of how Carolingian cavalrymen and their arms and armour are depicted in a set of Carolingian visual sources dating back to VIII – X centuries. How a Frankish horseman was armed in the VIII-X centuries is generally clear. However, the questions of how well a Frankish horseman fought and how he used his weapons in a battle have so far remained unnoticed by researchers, with the exceptions of Lynn White, Bernard Bachrach and Guy Halsall. But even they were more interested in general trends than in particular combat practices. This is largely due to the conciseness of written sources. As Timothy Reuter argues, “yet the face of battle … generally eludes us when we read these works”. However, in studies of the Frankish combat practices, visual sources are of paramount importance, as only they provide a holistic and clear picture of the cavalry armament complex, as well as the use of this complex in a combat. In recent times, the historiographical debate about the time when armoured cavalry appeared in the Frankish army and about the period when such cavalry transformed itself into chivalry is incomplete. It largely revolves around the relevance of the theses uttered by Lin White in the 1960s. Important sources in this debate are the Carolingian visual material that scholars exploit permanently but arbitrarily. This text is an attempt to systematize the Frankish iconography of the VIII - X centuries as an iconographic complex depicting armoured cavalry, its armament and its practical use. The Frankish iconography of VIII - X centuries confirms clearly the existence and importance of armoured cavalry in the army of the first Carolingians, despite the modern scholar’s different views on its force level, as well as its leading role in Frankish military culture in no later than the second half of the ninth century. The cabinet view of Western researchers about the uselessness of cavalry during sieges is not confirmed by sources. On the contrary, both the images and texts of that period demonstrate the widest possible use of cavalry in such military actions, primarily as a force for rapid response to the initiatives of the besieged. Technological transformations in mounted fighting were slow. Despite the fact that the stirrups have been recorded in Europe since the VII century, in the Carolingian visual material stirrups first appeared in the second half of the ninth century in a miniature from the manuscript "The Life of Saint Wandrille”. Further, their images are frequent but irregular, so Lynn White's theory on the crucial role of the stirrup introduction for transforming the Carolingian society of VIII - IX centuries and corresponding introduction of mounted shock combat during this period is not confirmed by visual sources. However, Bernard Bachrach's opposition thesis about the unpopularity of stirrups among the Franks in this period cannot be accepted either. It is likely that the stirrups’ introduction and the transformation of military techniques was slow, in parallel with the increase in the quality and quantity of saddle horses. The image of a couched lance has appeared permanently in the Frankish iconography since the 9th century. The motif of a rider with a lance held by a straight grip horizontally in an arm bent at an elbow first appears in the ninth century in The Golden Psalter of St. Gallen and The Boland Prudence, in the context of a cavalry march and the pursuit of one cavalry unit by another. Stirrups, saddles and spurs are visible too in the Carolinian iconography in that period. The third image of a couched spear on the relief of a sarcophagus from Civita Castellana is difficult to attribute chronologically accurately. By analogy with the images of war horses, equestrians and their equipment, the relief can be widely dated to the ninth century. In the Carolingian visual material of the tenth century, the motif of thecouched lance is found twice more (Codex Perizoni, Psychomachy of St. Lawrence) in the images of a siege and a convoy of captives. In four images from five, there is no enemy hit with a lance stroke, while in the fifth, the relief displays a hunting scene with a hunter on horseback striking a wild boar with a lance. Interpretation of these images by means of German and Italian fencing manuals, as well as the 1938 military regulations for the Polish cavalry, leads to the conclusion that the armoured cavalry’s knowing the technique of couching a lance does not automatically mean their ability to mounted shock combat. Holding the spear horizontally under the armpit gave a rider the opportunity to use fencing techniques and shock blows with a shaft or "winged” ends of lance head, which were effective in a melee. According to the Carolingian visual sources, the spread of stirrups since the ninth century seems indisputable, resulting in the development of armoured cavalry and its combat effectiveness in the Frankish army. Although the identification of a couched lance with mounted shock combat techniques is erroneous, the war horse and rider's armament, consisting of a spear, sword, shield, helmet, and body armour, defined the Carolingian and Ottonian armoured cavalry as a fighting force. This set of equipment was the technological basis, and the community of its bearers was the favourable environment in which chivalry emerged later as a fighting force. Frankish military technologies of the VIII - X centuries and the Frankish military culture of this period in the broadest sense of the term served as the technological and cultural basis for forming chivalry and chivalrous military technology in the future. Despite the obvious growing importance of cavalry in the Frankish army and progressive experiments with spear-wielding techniques during the VIII - X centuries, which are clearly proved by both visual and textual sources of the day, the available source material does not prove the existence of mounted shock combat among the Frankish military elites. So, it is early to speak about the emergence of knightly military technology and, accordingly, chivalry as a fighting force in the VIII - X centuries. However, Lynn White's thesis that it was the period that opened the "window of opportunity" for transforming equestrian combat and developing and proliferating weapons for it and ultimately for the growth of cultural and political role of specialists capable of it in the Frankish kingdoms remains relevant.

The article deals with the situation of Slavic sites study in the Ternopil region. By chronology the Slavic sites divide into 2 periods: the early (second half of the 5th—7th centuries) connected with time of the existence of the Prague culture, and the later (8th — first half of the 10th centuries) — the time of the existence of Raikovetska culture. Special attention is paid to the hill-forts and settlements near Terebovlia. Author describes the excavated dwellings and household buildings and analyzes the hand-made pottery discovered in the closed assemblages of settlements. The ceramic assemblages typical for each chronological period are researched. So, the findings of the hand-made pottery of the Chernyakhiv and the Welbark cultures together with Slavic one are typical for the early period of the Prague culture. The early period of the Raikovetska culture is characterized by the absence of pottery fragments. The assemblages of the late periods of the Raikovetska culture include about 15—20 % of early pottery. Among the hand-made pottery of the second half of the 5th—6th centuries only pots and bowls are present, and dripping pans are absent. The pottery has no ornament except the one case. Assemblages of the 8th century include pots and pans ornamented with finger nips. Set of pottery of the second half of the 9th — first half of the 10th centuries are characterized by hand-made pots, bowls, pans and dripping pans occurred together with early wheel-made pottery. This period is characterized by wide spread of hand-made pottery decorated by finger nips and early wheel-made pottery with line and wave ornament, sometimes together with recurrent fir-shaped ornament made by comb-shaped punch. The results of the study indicate that the region around Terebovlia on both banks of the Gnizna river was settled by the Slavs for a long time since the second half of the 5th — first half of the 10th centuries. The group of settlements in Terebovlia district can be considered as one of the Slavic «nests of settlements» in the Gnizna river basin. The hill-fort and two settlements of the Prague culture (settlements Krovinka I, Terebovlia V, Pidgaychyky III) and seven sites of the Raikovetska culture (settlements Terebovlia I, Terebovlia III, Terebovlia IV, Terebovlia IX, Terebovlia X, Krovinka II, Krovinka III) are placed near Terebovlia city.

The paper is devoted to the Raiky culture in the Middle Dnieper. It reveals major issues of the phenomenon of Raiky culture and their possible solutions considering the achievements of Ukrainian archeologists in this field. The genesis, chronology and features of the development of material culture of the Raiky sites in the 8th—9th centuries of the right-bank of the Dnieper are analyzed. In general the existence of the Raiky culture in the Middle Dnieper region can be described as follows. It was formed in first half of the 8th century in the Tiasmyn basin. The first wheel-made pottery has begun to manufacture quite early, from the mid-8th century (probably at the beginning of the third quarter). At the first stage, the early vessels have imitated the hand-made Raiky forms as well as the Saltovo-Mayaki imported vessels. Significant development of the material culture occurs during the second half of the 8th century. At the same time, the movement of the people of Raiky culture and the population of the sites of Sаkhnivka type has begun in the northern direction which was marked by the appearance of the Kaniv settlement, Monastyrok, and possibly Buchak. This stage is characterized by the syncretism both in the ceramic complex and in the features of design of the heating structures. Numerous influences of the people of Volyntsevo culture (and through them – of Saltovo-Mayaki one) are recorded in the Raiky culture. It is observed not only in direct imports but also in the efforts of the Raiky population to imitate the pottery of Volyntsevo and Saltovo-Mayaki cultures, however, based on their own technological capabilities. The nature of the relationship between the bearers of these cultures is still interesting. The population of Raiky accepts the imported items of Saltovo-Mayaki and Volyntsevo cultures, tries to imitate high-quality pottery of them, and even one can see the peaceful coexistence of two cultures in one settlement — Monastyrok, Buchak, Stovpyagy. However, the reverse pulses are absent. There are no tendencies to assimilate each other. Although, given the number and size of the sites, the numerical advantage of the Volyntsevo population in the region seems obvious. There is currently no answer to this question. The first third of the 9th century became the watershed. The destruction of the Bytytsia hill-fort and the charred ruins to which most of the settlements of the Volyntsevo culture has turned, is explained in the literature by the early penetration of Scandinavians into the region or as result of the resettlement of Magyars to the Northern Pontic region. In any case, this led to a change in the ethnic and cultural situation in the Dnieper basin. According to some researchers, the surviving part of the population of Volyntsevo culture migrated to the Oka and Don interfluve. For some time, but not for long, the settlements of Raiky culture remained abandoned. Apparently, after the stabilization of situation, the residents have returned which is reflected by the reconstruction of the Kaniv settlement and Monastyrok; in addition, on the latter the fortifications have been erected. The final stage of the existence of culture is characterized by contacts with the area of the left bank of Dnieper, the influx of the items of the «Danube circle», as well as the rapid development of the forms of early wheel-made pottery. The general profiling of vessels and design of the rim became more complicated, the rich linear-wavy ornament which covers practically all surface of the item became characteristic. This suggests the use of a quick hand wheel which has improved the symmetry of the vessels, as well as permitted to create the larger specimens. The evolution of the early wheel-made ceramic complex took place only by a variety of forms, however, technological indicators (dough composition, firing, density and thickness of vessel walls) indicate the actual invariability and sustainability of the manufacture tradition. The discontinuance of the functioning of the latest Raiky sites (Monastyrok and Kaniv settlements) can be attributed as the consequences of the first stages of consolidation of the Rus people in the Middle Dnieper dating to the late 9th — the turn of the 9th—10th centuries.

Abstract It is usually accepted among modern scholars that the Mamluk period marked a drastic decline in the position of non-Muslims. Jews and Christians were exposed to increasing persecutions and, inter alia, could not serve as great physicians unless they converted to Islam. Against these assumptions, the article discusses new data regarding three Jewish court physicians from the first half of the 8th/14th century. Despite being under a strong pressure to convert, these doctors gained honorable positions and a high social status in the Mamluk sultanate. As erudite physicians and skillful practitioners, they were integrated with the highest circles of the political, military and especially intellectual Muslim elite of their time.

Introduction. In 2018, the Institute of Archaeology of the Russian Academy of Sciences conducted excavations of a burial ground (Artek, Gurzuf, Yalta district). The first researcher of this monument was A.L. Jacobson, and he discovered ten inventory-free graves. In 2018, more than twenty graves both with funeral inventory and non-inventory ones were discovered at the burial ground. Analysis and Results. Among the archaeological material, metal crosses from grave 7A deserve special attention. One is a bronze breast cross with a circular decor, the second one is an iron cross with a curved, elongated lower branch. The wire earrings, small metal bells-buttons, small glass beads found in the grave are known at many archaeological sites in a wide time range. Fragments of tiles from the burial belong to technological groups 1, 2, 4 that can be dated from the 8th to the 12th (13th?) centuries. The search for analogies and the comparative analysis make it impossible to unambiguously determine the time of the bronze cross. It can be dated only in a wide chronological range – the 6th – 11th centuries, not excluding the 12th century, the iron cross most likely dates to the 9th – 10th centuries. In the aggregate of items, burial 7A can be tentatively dated broadly from the 8th century to the 11th century. Perhaps, using natural science methods that are currently being conducted, we will be able to clarify the date of burial 7A. The particular interest of the considered subjects of the Christian cult lies precisely in their ordinary and standard nature; they demonstrate the uniformization of the Byzantine material culture in the very wide territory from Egypt to Crimea. The burial ground of Gorzuvity demonstrates the byzantinization of the local barbarian population both in the material culture and in the burial rite. The finds of crosses in burial 7A fit well into the Byzantine context and are another clear confirmation of the evolution and chronology of the spread of Christianity in Crimea.

In the 1st millennium BC in Western Japan, emergency a new cultural tradition, which was different from the Jōmon Period. If in an early stage (approx. 10th — 8th centuries BC), during the transitional phase, was peaceful coexistence between the Jomon and Yayoi populations, then during the period from the 7th century BC to the 3rd century AD we can see a change from the economy of hunter–gathering to the producing one (agriculture, animal husbandry); the emergence of new technologies (metallurgy), innovation in the funeral rite and the social structure of Yayoi society. As a result of the gradual expansion of settlers from the Korean Peninsula, the Jōmon cultural tradition practically ceases to exist in most of the archipelago, with the exception of local variants on Hokkaido and Ryukyu Islands. In a number of popular science publications, we can read that these events and their significance for the territory of the Japanese archipelago are to a certain extent comparable with the discovery of the New World by Europeans and the subsequent dramatic destinies of the aborigines. The only difference is in the scale of the territories and in the fact that the Europeans actually interrupted the evolution of state and early state societies in pre–Columbian America, and on the territory of the Japanese islands, migrants from the continent, on the contrary, stimulated the emergence of proto–state formations. However, the process of introducing a new culture and accompanying technologies in reality was much more complicated, differed in different regions of the archipelago in its dynamics and degree of continuity with the previous Jōmon culture.

This paper presents three formerly unpublished Byzantine lead seals and an amulet that were examined in the archaeological museum of Izmir (nos. 1, 3 and figs. 5a–b) and Akhisar (no. 2) in western Turkey. They date from the 7th to the 13th century AD. The seal of a Manuel apo hypaton (no. 1) reveals the relations between the court of Constantinople and the city of Smyrna in the 7th century AD. Another one of Ioannes hypatos spatharios (no. 2) comes from Akhisar (8th century AD). No. 3 is dated to the 11th and 12th centuries AD. A lead amulet at the appendix part (figs. 5a–b), which perhaps originates from the Early Byzantine period, bears the name of Sabaṓth.

The Early Iron Age in R. Macedonia (10th to the beginning of the 8th century BC) was a period of unclear and undefined cultural values for these communities which were influenced by the new waves of the Transitional period. Yet, besides these influences, local communities also developed their own specific and characteristic appearances in the material culture. There is the obvious influence of the local Bronze Age culture, mixed with the northern elements of Hallstatt cultures from the western Balkan regions. Some of these elements existed for only a short time during the Transitional period and disappeared leaving no trace of their further development. The elements that were accepted were adapted to the local tastes (and needs) of the Iron Age communities, thus becoming incorporated into and recognizable parts of the local Iron Age culture. All of these elements present specific manifestations of the Early Iron Age culture in R. Macedonia, bringing it closer to the northern and north-western Iron Age cultures in the Balkan Peninsula. One of the most specific cultural phenomena of the Early Iron Age is the burial under tumuli. This was a new burial practice derived from the new way of life and new social relations in society. In this way, these burials, known as clan tumuli, played a major role in the appearance and the development of the Early Iron Age in Macedonia.

Abstract. This article examines the historical development of ancient water-powered mechanical clocks. The study begins with a comprehensive analysis and comparison of the different types of ancient clepsydra, their use and development and the development of their feedback systems, power systems, and time-reporting systems. Before becoming mechanized, water clocks (clepsydra) were mainly used for astronomical timekeeping, during religious sacrifices, for military affairs, court litigation timekeeping, and the time allocation of water rights. The invention of the feedback system in the 3rd century before common era (BCE) opened the door to the mechanization of water clocks. The float is the earliest power-driven element. In the 8th century, the emergence of waterwheels with timing functions in water-powered mechanical clocks prompted ancient China to develop water-powered mechanical clocks with waterwheel steelyard clepsydra devices, time-reporting devices, astronomical demonstration devices, and multiple time-reporting wooden pavilions. After the 13th century, mechanical clocks started to integrate elements from Chinese and Western cultures. In addition to the development of new styles of water-powered mechanical clocks in ancient China, the Western mercury wheels with timing functions evolved into compartmented cylindrical mercury clocks.

From the 2nd century AD the coincidence of Passover and Easter was recognized as a problem for the Christian church by the church authorities, and in the 4th century, after Christianity became the Roman state religion, Roman authorities took steps to prevent Passover and Easter coinciding. This effort was complicated by the growing separation between the churches in Rome and Constantinople. Though from the 2nd century the majority of Jews lived in the diaspora, at least up to the 10th century the calendar was governed by a rabbinical court in Eretz Israel (the Land of Israel). Here we discuss the changes in the Jewish calendar in the 5-8th centuries AD, the middle (c. 636 AD) of which period witnessed an abrupt transition from Byzantine rule over Eretz Israel to Arab rule. In this period no serious changes were made in the basic mathematics of the Jewish calendar; the only changes had a political context. Here we discuss a single but singular feature of the Jewish calendar, the 'Deĥiyot' [postponements] of Rosh Hashana. Our major claim is that Deĥiyah D [postponement from Wednesday to Thursday] and Deĥiyah U [postponement from Friday to Saturday] entered the calendar c. 532 AD as an ingenious Jewish response to Emperor Justinian's ban against the Passover feast (Nisan 14) falling on a Saturday, instituted to mend a famous calendar rift between the Roman and Alexandrian churches. Next we claim that Deĥiyah A [postponement from Sunday to Monday] became part of the calendar no earlier than when the 2nd day of the festivals Rosh Hashana [New Year] and Sukkot [Tabernacles] acquired the status of sacred day and we raise the lower historical boundary of Deĥiyah A's introduction in the calendar up to the time of the first Gaonim [heads of talmudic academies in the Arab caliphate] (c. 658 AD). We also suggest the reasons for the timing of three other deĥiyot.

SummaryAfter the fall of the Western Roman Empire, the imperial ritual was preserved and systematized in the East, in the ‘Byzantine’ Empire, by intensifying and Christianizing. The Book of Ceremonies by Constantine Porphyrogennetos, written in Greek in Constantinople in the 10th century, by compiling protocols of the previous centuries, gathers a rich collection of court rituals to be observed during the great religious and civil ceremonies which accompanied the important events of the reigns of the sovereigns, and the sportive events at the Hippodrome. We investigate about the permanence and the future of the Latin language in the ceremonial of the Byzantine Court: the survival of formulaic expressions of order and acclamation in Latin (rhômaïzein), Latin phrases underlaying the Greek text, and a great lot of Latinisms (rhômaï(k)a lexis) in the institutional and technical lexicon, sometimes unknown in Latin, which attest integrational processes, lexical creation, and phenomens of ‘aller-retour’ (round trip) between the West and the East, and between the Greek and the Latin languages.

Traditionally dated from the 8th to the 14th century, historians generally agree on the period of the golden age of Islamic civilization. They count that the keys to this civilizational achievement laid on the flourishing educational institutions, scientific findings, and the births of influential Muslim scholars. This article tries to reframe the significance of education in the creation of Islamic golden age and offer a brief reminder to the importance of education for contemporary Muslim societies. It is a bibliographical study for the materials for the discussion are taken from books, journal articles, and other written sources related to the topic. The collected data were then analyzed by content analysis. This article argues that the state policies on education is the key for the past Muslim golden age. Scientific culture ranging from namely research tradition, translation tradition, reading tradition to scientific habitus are essential in the making of Muslim golden age. This historical records reserves as a reminder for contemporary Muslim to reestablish the past golden age that lies on the reformation of educational system.

Purpose. Turkic peoples started to spread in the Baraba forest-steppe in the 8th century AD, bringing in their material culture and mixing with local population. At present, there have been recorded two settlements: Lozhka-4 and Sadovka in the Baraba forest-steppe. More commonly studied burial complexes include Chulym-2, Bolshie Luki-1, -3, Vladimirovka-3, Tretie Otdelenie-1, -2, Bazovo-1, Bazovo-2, Vengerovo-1, Vengerovo VII, Preobrazhenka-3, Sopka-2, Turunovka-3A, Hodunekovo, Aul-Koshkul, Oltary-1, Osintsevo-IV. Burial grounds are represented in three types: single mounds, groups of mounds and ground burials. We described the content of the ground burial found in 2016, which belongs to the Early Middle Age and was situated on the settlement of the Krotovo culture Vengerovo-2. Results. It was a single ground burial, located in the South-East – North-West direction. The skeleton was placed in an elongated position, arms along the body, the skull turned to the left and tilted to the shoulder. There was an iron knife in a poor condition near the diseased man’s left hand. There were found two horn buckles to the left of the sacrum and to the right of the lumbar spine. According to the classification by V. I. Molodin of the bone buckles of the Baraba forest-steppe, the full buckle can be referred to the type I, subtype 2, and it can be dated to the 7–8th centuries. By analogy with the buckles of the Srostkinskaya culture, the buckle from Vengerovo-2 is rectangular with a rounded frame, has a T-shape, and the slot for rolling the tongue is separated from the end of the slot isthmus. Such products were widely spread in the Middle Age cultures of Siberia and are dated in a broad range to the 8–10th centuries. The closest analogues to these items can be found in materials of the site Tartas-1, where burials of different times and cultures are represented, and which is situated near Vengerovo-2 settlement. Similar ground burials had been found at the Tartas-1 cemetery in 2008, 2009 and 2011. By the traits of their burial rite and inventory, they were referred to the ancient Turkic culture. Tartas-1 is an elite cemetery of the Turkic epoch on the territory of the Baraba forest-steppe as the site contained stuffed horses and a wide set of accessories such as weapons, jewelry, art objects and horse harness in its burials. There is another similar site, Turunovka-3A, where three shallow-dug soil graves were uncovered at the edge of the high shore terrace. The ancient graves of the Baraba burial ground Vengerovo-2 also do not include ceramic vessels. Conclusion. On the basis of the specific features of the burial rite and inventory, the burial on the site Vengerovo-2 is referred to a common type which was left by the population of the ancient Turkic culture of the Baraba.

There are a lot of facts of deliberate falsification of history. Abkhazia and Georgia are neighbors geographically having a common history. In Georgian historiography, the denial of the Abkhaz people and Abkhazia’s existence became the norm: attempts are being made to prove that Apsua and Abkhaz are two different ethnic groups, that Abkhaz and Abkhaz language in medieval sources were used in the meaning of Georgian and Georgian language. Nowadays, Georgia claims that there are 1,100 Georgian architectural monuments on the territory of Abkhazia which include such ancient temples as the Church of Dormition of Lykhny of the 10th century, the Church of St. Simon the Canaanite (New Athos), the Dranda Cathedral (6th–8th centuries), and other religious objects, pieces of art. However, these political statements are not true. At various times, temple objects from Abkhazia surfaced in Georgia, storing the icon of the Pitsunda Mother of God in the Gelat Monastery, located near Kutaisi; the Golden Cup from the Bedia Church; the Gospel which belonged to the Mokva Archbishop’s Seat and is held now in the Museum of Art of Georgia in Tbilisi. Georgia considers these artifacts Georgian and refuses to return them to Abkhazia. The falsification also affected the Besleti Bridge, one of the ancient architectural monuments of Abkhazia located on the river Basla near Sukhumi. According to Abkhaz scientists, the date of the bridge’s construction was falsified in 1935 during the restoration work carried out by Georgian researchers. The biographies of well-known figures of science and culture of Abkhazia were also falsified. All these examples show that modern Abkhazia has a lot of work to do to rewrite its state history.

Radogošč (Rethra), situated in the territory of the Lutizen tribal union and described in a number of early medieval written sources (Thietmar of Merse- burg, Adam of Bremen, Helmold), is one of the most famous Slavonic pagan sanctuaries. According to the descriptions, the sanctuary, devoted to the god Radegast-Svarozic, was situated at the shore of a lake and surrounded by a sacred forest. The location of Radogošč is not yet established, although there are over 30 hypotheses as to its location. A total of 40 toponyms related to Radogošč can be found within the settle- ment area of the Slavs – Radegast, Radigošť, Radogošč, Radogošča – from the Elbe and the eastern border of Austria to the upper reaches of the Oka, and from the Baltic Sea to the Middle Danube. There is a group of hydronyms among them, while the Czechs have an ancient tradition of celebrating the summer solstice on Mount Radigošť in Moravia. Excavation of the Radahoshcha settlement outside Navahrudak, Belarus, indicates that it belonged to a Slavonic population with a culture similar to that of the Luka Raikovetskaia Culture (8th–10th century) and must have been used as a sanctuary (distinctive exterior features, long houses, the location of a cultural stratum in a narrow belt along the edge of the site). Finds of the late 1st millennium have also been made at other monuments with analogous names. The geographical position of such toponyms coincides with the area of the Prague Culture and the descendants of this population, as well as with that of the Sukovo-Dzedzin and Feldberg Cultures. In spite of the fact that written sources fail to specify the functions of the god Radegast-Svarozic, they can be reconstructed on the basis of a compre- hensive analysis. He was the head of the pantheon in societies with theocratic and popular assembly systems, connected with the cults of the sun and water. Apart from this, he had magic and military functions. The excavations at the Radahoshcha settlement in Belarus indicate that places bearing similar names are promising indicators in the search for the remains of pagan sanctuaries.

In Central Asia in the second half of the 1st millennium A.D., there were development and rapid change of large polyethnic state formations of allied congeneric groups of the Turkic people, Uigurs, Kyrgyz, Kimaks, and Kipchaks. The material goods of most of the tribal unions are unidentified and cannot be associated with the names of specific ethnic groups known from the written sources. Continuance and cultural affinity of the succes-sive nomadic communities are based upon identity of the subsistence systems in similar natural and climatic con-ditions. The Kyrgyz (Khakass) Khaganate, which emerged in the Upper Yenisei region, was one of the Early Me-dieval states. In the second half of the 9th century, the authority of the Kyrgyz khagans spread onto the vast terri-tories of Central Asia. The main culture-forming attribute of the Kyrgyz ethnos is cremation burials. The study of the cremation burials found beyond the ancestral homeland of the Kyrgyz allows tracing the intertribal contacts and directions of military campaigns of the Kyrgyz during the period of their “greatpowerness”. In this paper, mate-rials of the burial mound of Menovnoe VIII, situated in the territory of the Upper Irtysh 2.1 km south-east from the village of Menovnoe, Tavrichesky district, East-Kazakhstan Region, are analysed. Under the mound of the kurgan, there was a fence with an outbuilding. The central grave contained a cremation burial, and the outbuilding — an adolescent burial and a sacrificial pit with a horse carcass split into halves. The grave goods are represented by a bronze waistbelt clasp and a fragment of an iron object. Alongside the horse, there was a quiver with three arrow-heads and a rasp-file, as well as part of a bridle (a snaffle bit fixed to a wooden cheekpiece and a bronze buckle tip). The specifics of the burial rite and analysis of the material obtained during the study of the funeral complex allows attribution of the Menovnoe-VIII kurgan 8 graves to representatives of the Kyrgyz-Khakass antiquities, who were in contact with the rulers of the Kimak Khaganate during the second half of the 8th — 10th century.

Evidence for annotating Homeric poetry in Ancient Greece is as old as the 5th Century BCE, when the «Iliad» and «Odyssey» were performed by professional singers/composers who also performed annotations to the poetry in answer to questions from their audiences. As the long transition from a song culture into a literate society took place in Ancient Greece from the 8th to the 2nd and 1st centuries BCE, annotations were gradually incorporated into written poetic texts. By the 10th Century CE, the quantity of written annotations in the margins of medieval manuscripts has become huge. For the first two versions of «The Ancient Hero», a HarvardX MOOC, it was not possible to implement the set of annotation tools that we requested as a vehicle for close reading and assessment. Using a partial system, we were able to create a semblance of annotations in close reading self-assessment exercises. For the anticipated third version, we expect to have a complete set of textual and video annotation tools developed for HarvardX, including semantic tagging and full sharing of annotations. Such a system, which promises to make the educational experience more effective, will also inaugurate a digital phase in the long history of Homeric annotation.Las evidencias de anotaciones en la poesía homérica de la Antigua Grecia se remontan al siglo V (a.C.), cuando ya la «Ilíada» y la «Odisea» eran representadas por cantantes profesionales/compositores, que hacían anotaciones en la poesía para responder a los interrogantes de su público. A medida que la transición, desde una cultura de la canción a una sociedad alfabetizada, aconteció en este período de la Antigua Grecia, entre el siglo VIII al I y II (a.C.), las anotaciones se incorporaron poco a poco en los escritos poéticos. La cantidad de anotaciones escritas en los márgenes de los manuscritos medievales se volvió enorme hacia el siglo X. En las dos primeras versiones de «The Ancient Hero» en el MOOC de HarvardX no fue posible utilizar el conjunto de herramientas de anotación solicitadas como medio para una atenta evaluación de las lecturas. Utilizando un sistema parcial, hemos sido capaces de crear aparentes anotaciones en los primeros ejercicios de autoevaluación de lectura. En la tercera versión, disponemos ya de un conjunto completo de herramientas de anotaciones de texto y de vídeo, desarrollados para HarvardX, incluyendo etiquetado semántico y anotaciones compartidas. Dicho sistema nos permitirá una experiencia educativa más eficaz, inaugurando también una fase digital en la larga historia de la anotación homérica.

In the years 2016–2018, a three-volume work «Knight in war, travel and the accomodation» was published in Poland. The author of this trilogy is Jan Szymczak, Professor Emeritus at the University of Lodz (Poland). In the first two volumes, he discussed the armament and equipment of knights in medieval Poland from the 10th to the 16th century. In the first volume, the author deals with defensive weapons, in the second ― offensive. The author paid much attention to the issue of terminology related to weapons. He tries to explain the nomenclature that appears in the sources, to explain the origin of the names of weapons that appeared in Polish. In the discussed books, a lot of space is devoted to issues related to the production and prices of weapons. In the third volume, the author also deals with horses and riding gear. However, on the pages of the book we find not only information about the knight’s equipment, but also a lot of space is devoted to weapons used by citizens, peasants and mercenary soldiers. The reader will also find in this study a lot of information not only about Polish army, but also about armies of other countries of medieval Europe. On the pages of J. Szymczak’s works, we find not only the parameters of weapons and examples of their use in battles, but he also shows them as an important element of court and religious ceremonies. Although the work is dedicated to the Polish knighthood, in it there are references to ancient cultures or medieval European literature. The work contains a very rich bibliography, including handwritten and printed sources, as well as a very large selection of literature.

Abstract The late 8th/14th century saw a renaissance of high occultism throughout Islamdom—a development alarming to puritan scholars. This includes Ibn Ḫaldūn (d. 808/1406), whose anti-occultist position in the Muqaddima is often assumed to be an example of his visionary empiricism; yet his goal is simply the recategorization of all occult sciences under the twin rubrics of magic and divination, and his veto persuades more on religious and social grounds than natural-scientific. Restoring the historian’s argument to its original state of debate with the burgeoning occultist movement associated with the Mamluk sultan Barqūq’s (r. 784/1382-791/1389 and 792/1390-801/1399) court reveals it to be not forward-thinking but rather conservative, fideist and indeed reactionary, as such closely allied with Ibn Qayyim al-Ǧawziyya’s (d. 751/1350) puritanical project in particular; and in any event, the eager patronage and pursuit of the occult sciences by early modern ruling and scholarly elites suggests that his appeal could only fall on deaf ears. That it also flatly opposed the forms of millennial sovereignty that would define the post-Mongol era was equally disqualifying. I here take Šaraf al‑Dīn ʿAlī Yazdī (d. 858/1454), Ibn Ḫaldūn’s younger colleague and fellow resident in Cairo, as his sparring partner from the opposing camp: the Timurid historian was a card-carrying occultist and member of the Iḫwān al-Ṣafāʾ network of neopythagorean-neoplatonic-monist thinkers then gaining prominence from India to Anatolia via Egypt. I further take geomancy (ʿilm al-raml) as a test case, since Yazdī wrote a tract in defense of the popular divinatory science that directly rebuts Ibn Ḫaldūn’s arguments in the Muqaddima. To set the stage for their debate, I briefly introduce contemporary geomantic theory and practice, then discuss Ibn Ḫaldūn’s and Yazdī’s respective theories of occultism with a view toward establishing points of agreement and disagreement; I also append a translation of Yazdī’s tract as a basis for this comparison.

The Danes and the Origin of the Danish KingdomOn the Research Programme “From Tribe to State in Denmark”Since the 1970’s, the ethnogenesis of the Danes and the origin of the Danish kingdom have attracted increased interest among Danish archaeologists. Marked changes over time observed in a growing source material form a new basis of interpretation. In written sources, the Danish realm does not appear until the Viking Age. The formation of the kingdom is traditionally placed as late as the 10th century (Jelling and all that). But prehistorians have raised the question whether the formation of the kingdom was not a much longer course. Some scholars believe that we have to study the periods preceding the Viking Age to be able to understand the development, at least from the 3rd century. In Scandinavia, this covers the Late Roman Iron Age, the Migration and Merovingian periods, as well as the early Viking Age. In a Continental perspective, it parallels the Late Antiquity (3rd-6th centuries) and the Early Middle Ages (6th-10th centuries).In 1984, the Danish Research Council launched the research programme “From Tribe to State in Denmark” which aimed to understand the formation of the Danish kingdom by studying the interaction between economic, social, and political circumstances from the Roman Period to the Viking Age. This paper presents a short synthesis of my work in the programme.Two themes have been brought into focus:1) The ethnogenesis of the Nordic peoples: the formation of the tribes that appear in the few and problematic written sources of the first millennium AD, in casu the Danes;2) The making of the Nordic kingdoms: in this case Denmark.A problem with this kind of long-term research is the inherent teleological perspective, revealed in the programme title. It is essential for me to emphasise that the early Danish kingdom was not a self-evident formation but the result of a series of concrete historical circumstances. There have been alternative possibilities at several occasions.In Scandinavia, the period is prehistoric. However, in South Scandinavia it deserves to be labelled protohistoric. Scandinavian archaeologists often forget or ignore the fact that in large parts of Europe, the first millennium AD is a historical period. The Scandinavian development is too often evaluated in isolation from the rest of Europe, in spite of the fact that the material culture demonstrates that interaction with continental as well as insular powers was continuously influencing Scandinavia. Necessarily, a relevant approach to Scandinavian late prehistory includes a historical dimension and a European perspective. South Scandinavian societies were over time linked to different realms in Europe. The Danish development was certainly part of a common west European trajectory.The best possibility of interpreting the archaeological record of South Scandinavia is by analogy with historians’ interpretations of other more or less contemporary Germanic peoples, based on descriptions in the written sources. Long-term studies of Scandinavian societies in the first millennium AD has laid new ground on which scholars have to build their image of the making of a Danish kingdom. The paper briefly describes some of the results and focuses on changes in the material that I find significant.Rural settlement: Great progress in the study of Iron Age and Early Mediaeval farming suggests economic growth, a development from subsistence economy to a production of a surplus, from collective forms of farming to individually run farmsteads, from small family farmsteads to large farms and manors. It is the surplus created by this expansion that could carry the late Viking and high medieval Danish kingdom with its administration, military power, church, towns, etc.Trade and exchange: Prestige-goods exchange dominated in the beginning of the period. Goods came from various parts of Europe. The connections to central and east Europe were broken in the sixth century, not to be reopened until the Viking Age. This explains the dominating position held by West European material culture in the development of South Scandinavia. Thus, South Scandinavia became part of the commercial zone of West Europe, certainly an important element in the making of the Danish kingdom. In the Viking Age, the rapid urbanisation demonstrates that Denmark gained great profit from its key position in the North Sea-Baltic trade network.Central places and early towns: Complex settlements appeared already in the Late Roman Iron Age, e.g. Gudme/Lundeborg, Funen. Further central sites appeared, and the number of central places grew rapidly. By the year 700, they are found in virtually every settlement area of South Scandinavia. The sites were not simple trading stations, as most were labelled a few years ago, but many also fulfilled important political, social, and religious functions; some were also manorial residences. The resident elite based their power on the mobilisation of the rural surplus; at the same time, one can say that the stimulus to produce a rural surplus was probably caused by an increasing demand from the elite at the centres.In the Viking Age, urbanisation began, which meant that the old central places lost their position and were replaced by towns like Hedeby, Ribe, and Århus. Excavations show that urbanisation started in the 8th century, a little later than the famous emporia Quentovic, Dorestad, Hamwic, and Ipswic.So today, it must be concluded that at the threshold to the Viking Age, South Scandinavian societies had a more advanced economic system and a more complex social organisation than believed only 20 years ago.Warfare: The dated indications of war cluster in two periods, the 3rd to 5th centuries, and the 10th to 11th centuries. The early period could be characterised as one of tribal warfare, in which many polities were forced to join larger confederations through the pressure of endemic warfare and conquests. In the archaeological record, indicators of war seem to disappear after AD 500, not to reappear in large numbers until the Viking Age. Was this period a Pax Danorum? Indeed, the silent archaeological record could indicate that the Danes had won hegemony in South Scandinavia. This phase can be understood as a period of consolidation between an early phase of tribal warfare and a later phase in which the territorial defence of a Danish kingdom becomes visible in the record.Wars with the Carolingian empire in the 9th century are the first wars in Denmark to be mentioned in the written record. However, archaeology demonstrates the presence of serious military threats in the centuries before, e.g. the first dykes at Danevirke. The strategic localisation of the period’s defence works reveals that threats were met with both navy and army. According to the texts, the 9th century wars are clearly national wars, either wars of conquest on a large scale between kingdoms, or civil wars, which for a large part seem to be triggered by an aggressive Frankish diplomacy.The two phases of warfare mirror two different military political situations: in the Late Roman and Migration Periods they are tribal wars and conflicts over resource control; in the Late Merovingian Period and the Viking Age they concern a Danish kingdom’s territorial defence.Religious changes: The conversion is often considered a major turning point in Scandinavian history; and in a way it was, of course. But the importance of Christianisation is heavily overestimated. The conversion was simply a step in a process that started long before. The paganism of the Scandinavians must not mislead us into believing that they were barbarians.A great change in cult practice took place around AD 500 when the use of bogs and lakes for offerings rapidly decreased. Instead, religious objects are found hoarded in settlement contexts, sometimes in the great halls of the magnates. This indicates that the elite had taken control of religion in a new way. The close link between cult and elite continued uninterrupted after Christianisation; churches were built by the magnates and on their ground. Therefore, we have a kind of cult-site continuity. From the Migration Period, the archaeological material demonstrates a close link between cult and magnates. This is certainly one important element in the formation of a Danish kingdom.Political development: Analyses of material culture reveal that South Scandinavia in the Early Iron Age consisted of many small regions, and based on sources like Tacitus and Ptolemy, one can guess that they correspond to tribal areas. In the Late Roman Iron Age and the Migration Period, the formation of a South Scandinavian super-region can be discerned, but still subdivided into a small number of distinguishable culture zones, and, again, on the basis of written sources (Jordanes and Procopius), one can guess that small tribes had joined into larger confederations precisely as on the Continent. In my opinion, a Danish kingdom appeared not later than the sixth century. Based on the well-studied material culture of the early Merovingian Period, one can assume that it had its core area in Central Denmark - South Jutland, Funen, and Zealand – with a close periphery of North Jutland, South Halland, Scania, Blekinge, and Bornholm. Probably more loosely attached to the Danish hegemony was a more distant periphery in South Sweden.So the Danish kingdom already had a history when it first appeared in the Frankish sources at the end of the 8th century. Danish involvement in European politics is first clearly observable in 777 and again in 782. Obviously, the Danish kingdom was a political and military actor on the North European scene long before the Viking Age.In the light of all these arguments, three phases can be described:– Roman Iron Age: Tribal societies with chieftains or small kings.– Late Roman Iron Age, Migration Period, and early Merovingian Period: A process of amalgamation started and warfare characterises the period. The result is the formation of tribal confederations. Written sources speak in favour of the Danes as the people who eventually won hegemony over South Scandinavia.– Late Merovingian Period and Viking Age: A process began in which royal agents replaced local chieftains. The last area to be integrated under direct Danish royal rule, in the reign of Sven Forkbeard, was probably Scania. Thus Medieval Denmark appeared.Final remarks: As a result of archaeological achievements in the last decades, a number of traditional views about Scandinavian late prehistory appear less likely, or rather erroneous. It is an underestimation that the pagans were unable of organisation and that a formation of a Danish kingdom is unthinkable before the late Viking Age. Unfortunately, the ethnogenesis of the Danes is beyond the reach of study, but a rough hypothesis may be formulated. The Danes were once one of several tribes somewhere in South Scandinavia. Events outside the Scandinavian scene were of fundamental importance for the possibility of the Danish gens to grow in power in the Late Roman and Migration Periods. Already before the Merovingian Period, the Danes won hegemony between the Baltic and the North Sea. A Danish kingdom could probably be based on this key position. Its survival was by no means a matter of course. In their continued efforts to secure the Danish position, capable kings established the borders of high medieval Denmark in the course of the Viking Age.Ulf NäsmanInstitutionen för humaniora och ­samhällsvetenskap Högskolan i Kalmar

The art of miniature painting in India traces its origin to the Buddhist manuscript Illustrations of the Pala period in Nepal and Eastern part of India in the 8th to 11th century. The Jain manuscripts in Gujrat and Rajasthan, as early as 11th century, also point towards a practice of such illustrations. These manuscripts, apart from portraying religious literature, also covered wide ranging topics such as medicine, astrology, etc. They were profusely illustrated, and were mostly inscribed on palm leaves. Apart from serving as important treatises, they were widely used as gifts during royal marriages and accessions. However, the Mughal Rule in India brought a certain degree of sophistication, refinement and finesse to this form of art. Under successive Mughal Rulers, the art of miniature painting reached its zenith. While Babur and Humayun, who were great lovers of art and literature, could not build proper ateliers during their reigns due to their frequent military campaigns and conflicts, they were responsible for bringing to India two versatile artists, Abdus Samad and Mir Sayed Ali from the Safavid Persian Court-whose works would have significant impact on the art of miniature paintings in the Mughal Courts. Humayun’s successors Akbar, Jahangir and Shah Jahan built some of the most significant ateliers under their rules, and some of the preeminent miniature artists like Basavan, Manohar, Bichitar, Ustad Mansur, Balchand and Murad flourished under their patronage. Some very significant works like Baburnama, Akbarnama, Razamnama, etc. were also commissioned by the early Mughal Emperors. With the decline of the Mughal Empire, the miniature painting scene shifted to the Rajput Courts in Rajasthan and the Hill States in Northern India. Various important Schools of painting –like the Mewar, Marwar, Jaipur, Hadoti, Kangra, Basholi, and Garhwal – Schools, to name a few, started flourishing under their respective rulers. While the Mughal influence still prevailed, yet each school had its own distinctive characteristic and feature. The subjects of these paintings and manuscripts ranged from religious literature, court scenes, royal processions, flora and fauna, textiles, jewelry to elaborate equestrian and hunting scenes. However, the most riveting and captivating depictions were in the form of elaborate and brilliant portraits of the rulers, their nobles and courtiers, which not only throw light on their magnificent reigns, but also open a window to the culture, tradition and practices of those times. This essay makes an attempt to study the fine art of portraiture in miniature paintings in the various Mughal, Provincial and Rajput Courts to bring out their historical and cultural significance.

This paper aims to investigate the origins of ancient coins of Japan (until the 10th century CE), introduce the characteristics of their design and patterns, and examine their role in early Japanese culture and public administration, while briefly introducing the ancient Chinese coins that served as inspiration. Japan adopted numerous ancient Chinese cultural practices during the Asuka and Nara periods (538–794 CE). Especially from the second half of the 7th century to the 8th century CE, Japan introduced various social systems from the Tang dynasty in order to build a centralised government. Japanese nobles recognised the importance of metallic currency, leading to some silver and bronze coin production at the second half of the 7th century CE, including that of Mumon Ginsen and Fuhonsen coins. Scholars believe that they were modelled after ancient Chinese coins. The mintage was regarded as an essential tool for the Japanese government to display the independence and the authority of the nation, both inside and outside the country. The system of the first official imperial currency (Kōchōsen) was introduced to Japan in the early 8th century CE and inspired by the Kāiyuán Tōngbǎo cash coins of the Tang dynasty. The oldest known official Japanese imperial coinage is the Wadō Kaichin. In the second half of the 8th century CE, the national currency was reformed, and silver and gold cash coins were introduced. However, by the end of the 10th century CE, Japan subsequently suspended the mintage and circulation of coins.

The paper is focused on the findings of archeological studies in the medieval Dargavs burial site (dated 7th – early 8th centuries), located in the mountain area of the Republic of North Ossetia (Alania). The paper summarizes general results of comprehensive studies of two catacomb burials dated the second half of the 8th – 9th century. The study investigates the type of the discovered burial construction, timeline of the burials. The results of the anthropological analysis of ancient people and evaluation of the significance of the Dargavs necropolis in the system of antiquities of Alanian medieval culture of the Central Caucasus are given in the paper.

In the northern Dalmatia region where there were only two cultural systems throughout the Bronze and Iron Ages, four moments are crucial in the use of cremation ritual during the 2nd/1st centuries BC: in the Early Bronze Age (Cetina culture: Ervenik, Podvršje − Matakov brig, Nadin, Krneza − Duševića glavica), in the Early Iron Age (Nadin, mound 13, Krneza − Jokina glavica), in Hellenism (Dragišić, gr. 4 A-C), and finally, for the first time very intensively during the Romanization of Liburnians. Newly discovered cremations in ceramic urns (gr. 3, 13) in burial mound 13 (9th – 6th cent. BC) from Nadin near Benkovac are the first example (after Dragišić) of Liburnian cremation; more precisely, burial mound 13 with 19 graves represents a form of biritualism in the Liburnians. It is also an example of the greatest number of Liburnian burials under a mound, with crouched, extended and cremated skeletons and many ritual remains (traces of fire on the ground and on animal bones: funerary feast?; numerous remains of ceramic vessels (libation?). Although typical Liburnian burial "inherits" many formal and symbolic elements (stone cist, enclosing wall, libation, etc.) from the (Early) Bronze Age (and probably Eneolithic as well), cremation in the Liburnian burial mound 13 from Nadin cannot be explained in terms of continuity from the Early Bronze Age; links are missing, particularly those from the Middle Bronze Age in the study of the cultural dynamics of the 2nd millennium BC in the northern Dalmatia region. Squat form of the Nadin urns with a distinct neck has analogies in the Liburnian (Nin) and Daunian funerary pots for burying newborns (ad encytrismos), and also in the typology of pottery (undecorated or decorated) in a wider region (Ruše, V.Gorica, Dalj/Vukovar, Terni II, Este, Bologna I-II, Roma II, Cumae I, Pontecagnano IA, Histrians, etc.), i.e. in the forms widespread from the Danubian region, Alps, and Balkans to the Apennine Peninsula between the Late Bronze and Early Iron Ages (10th/9th – 8th cent. BC). Although appearance of cremation in the Picenian culture has not been completely clear (Fermo necropolis, burials from Ancona, Numana, Novilara: graves Servici, 29, 39 from Piceno II-III, from the 8th/7th.cent. BC), Liburnian culture is most similar to the Picenian culture in the Adriatic world by the intensity and period of cremation, and form of urns. Specifically, decorated urn in a male grave 52 from Numana from the 9th century BC is analogous to the Nadin urns. This grave from Numana is usually mentioned as an example of trans-Adriatic, Picenian-Liburnian (Balkanic) i.e. Picenian-Histrian relations. Liburnian urns are similar to the urn from the grave in Numana, 495, Davanzali, from the late 9th century by their profilation. "Genesis" of both Liburnian and Picenian cremation is unknown. They are two convergent phenomena, reflecting the "unity" of the late Urnenfelder world of the 10th/9th centuries BC and resulting from cultural-ethnical contacts in a "closed circle" from the Danubian region – southeastern Alpine region – Apennine Peninsula, supported by smaller migrations in the first centuries of the Iron Age, from the trans-Adriatic direction in Picenum (with definite Villanova influence), and in Liburnia probably from the hinterland. In this Adriatic circle in the first centuries of the Iron Age multiple cultural contacts between Liburnians, Histrians and Picenians are for now a good (initial) context for a more detailed interpretation of Liburnian cremation. Despite the aforementioned, it is not necessary to relate directly the structure (ritual, goods) of gr. 52, Numana – Qualiotti to Histrian patterns nor the grave 495, Numana-Davanzali to the Iapodian ones. Cremated Liburnian burial from the Early Iron Age represents a certain continuity and a "reflection" of the late Urnenfelder circle, which was manifested in different ways in the beginnings of the Liburnian, Picenian, and Histrian cultures and elsewhere. The latest excavations on a planned Liburnian-Roman necropolis in Nadin (Nedinum) provided us with new information about the spatial, chronological and symbolical relation (religious, social) between the autochtonous Liburnian and Roman component in the period of Romanization of northern Dalmatia.

I first came across etoy in Linz, Austria in 1995. They turned up at Ars Electronica with their shaved heads, in their matching orange bomber jackets. They were not invited. The next year they would not have to crash the party. In 1996 they were awarded Arts Electronica’s prestigious Golden Nica for web art, and were on their way to fame and bitterness – the just rewards for their art of self-regard. As founding member Agent.ZAI says: “All of us were extremely greedy – for excitement, for drugs, for success.” (Wishart & Boschler: 16) The etoy story starts on the fringes of the squatters’ movement in Zurich. Disenchanted with the hard left rhetorics that permeate the movement in the 1980s, a small group look for another way of existing within a commodified world, without the fantasy of an ‘outside’ from which to critique it. What Antonio Negri and friends call the ‘real subsumption’ of life under the rule of commodification is something etoy grasps intuitively. The group would draw on a number of sources: David Bowie, the Sex Pistols, the Manchester rave scene, European Amiga art, rumors of the historic avant gardes from Dada to Fluxus. They came together in 1994, at a meeting in the Swiss resort town of Weggis on Lake Lucerne. While the staging of the founding meeting looks like a rerun of the origins of the Situationist International, the wording of the invitation might suggest the founding of a pop music boy band: “fun, money and the new world?” One of the – many – stories about the origins of the name Dada has it being chosen at random from a bilingual dictionary. The name etoy, in an update on that procedure, was spat out by a computer program designed to make four letter words at random. Ironically, both Dada and etoy, so casually chosen, would inspire furious struggles over the ownership of these chancey 4-bit words. The group decided to make money by servicing the growing rave scene. Being based in Vienna and Zurich, the group needed a way to communicate, and chose to use the internet. This was a far from obvious thing to do in 1994. Connections were slow and unreliable. Sometimes it was easier to tape a hard drive full of clubland graphics to the underside of a seat on the express train from Zurich to Vienna and simply email instructions to meet the train and retrieve it. The web was a primitive instrument in 1995 when etoy built its first website. They launched it with a party called etoy.FASTLANE, an optimistic title when the web was anything but. Coco, a transsexual model and tabloid sensation, sang a Japanese song while suspended in the air. She brought media interest, and was anointed etoy’s lifestyle angel. As Wishart and Bochsler write, “it was as if the Seven Dwarfs had discovered their Snow White.” (Wishart & Boschler: 33) The launch didn’t lead to much in the way of a music deal or television exposure. The old media were not so keen to validate the etoy dream of lifting themselves into fame and fortune by their bootstraps. And so etoy decided to be stars of the new media. The slogan was suitably revised: “etoy: the pop star is the pilot is the coder is the designer is the architect is the manager is the system is etoy.” (Wishart & Boschler: 34) The etoy boys were more than net.artists, they were artists of the brand. The brand was achieving a new prominence in the mid-90s. (Klein: 35) This was a time when capitalism was hollowing itself out in the overdeveloped world, shedding parts of its manufacturing base. Control of the circuits of commodification would rest less on the ownership of the means of production and more on maintaining a monopoly on the flows of information. The leading edge of the ruling class was becoming self-consciously vectoral. It controlled the flow of information about what to produce – the details of design, the underlying patents. It controlled the flows of information about what is produced – the brands and logos, the slogans and images. The capitalist class is supplanted by a vectoral class, controlling the commodity circuit through the vectors of information. (Wark) The genius of etoy was to grasp the aesthetic dimension of this new stage of commodification. The etoy boys styled themselves not so much as a parody of corporate branding and management groupthink, but as logical extension of it. They adopted matching uniforms and called themselves agents. In the dada-punk-hiphop tradition, they launched themselves on the world as brand new, self-created, self-named subjects: Agents Zai, Brainhard, Gramazio, Kubli, Esposto, Udatny and Goldstein. The etoy.com website was registered in 1995 with Network Solutions for a $100 fee. The homepage for this etoy.TANKSYSTEM was designed like a flow chart. As Gramazio says: “We wanted to create an environment with surreal content, to build a parallel world and put the content of this world into tanks.” (Wishart & Boschler: 51) One tank was a cybermotel, with Coco the first guest. Another tank showed you your IP number, with a big-brother eye looking on. A supermarket tank offered sunglasses and laughing gas for sale, but which may or may not be delivered. The underground tank included hardcore photos of a sensationalist kind. A picture of the Federal Building in Oklamoma City after the bombing was captioned in deadpan post-situ style “such work needs a lot of training.” (Wishart & Boschler: 52) The etoy agents were by now thoroughly invested in the etoy brand and the constellation of images they had built around it, on their website. Their slogan became “etoy: leaving reality behind.” (Wishart & Boschler: 53) They were not the first artists fascinated by commodification. It was Warhol who said “good art is good business.”(Warhol ) But etoy reversed the equation: good business is good art. And good business, in this vectoral age, is in its most desirable form an essentially conceptual matter of creating a brand at the center of a constellation of signifiers. Late in 1995, etoy held another group meeting, at the Zurich youth center Dynamo. The problem was that while they had build a hardcore website, nobody was visiting it. Agents Gooldstein and Udatny thought that there might be a way of using the new search engines to steer visitors to the site. Zai and Brainhard helped secure a place at the Vienna Academy of Applied Arts where Udatny could use the computer lab to implement this idea. Udatny’s first step was to create a program that would go out and gather email addresses from the web. These addresses would form the lists for the early examples of art-spam that etoy would perpetrate. Udatny’s second idea was a bit more interesting. He worked out how to get the etoy.TANKSYSTEM page listed in search engines. Most search engines ranked pages by the frequency of the search term in the pages it had indexed, so etoy.TANKSYSTEM would contain pages of selected keywords. Porn sites were also discovering this method of creating free publicity. The difference was that etoy chose a very carefully curated list of 350 search terms, including: art, bondage, cyberspace, Doom, Elvis, Fidel, genx, heroin, internet, jungle and Kant. Users of search engines who searched for these terms would find dummy pages listed prominently in their search results that directed them, unsuspectingly, to etoy.com. They called this project Digital Hijack. To give the project a slightly political aura, the pages the user was directed to contained an appeal for the release of convicted hacker Kevin Mitnick. This was the project that won them a Golden Nica statuette at Ars Electronica in 1996, which Gramazio allegedly lost the same night playing roulette. It would also, briefly, require that they explain themselves to the police. Digital Hijack also led to the first splits in the group, under the intense pressure of organizing it on a notionally collective basis, but with the zealous Agent Zai acting as de facto leader. When Udatny was expelled, Zai and Brainhard even repossessed his Toshiba laptop, bought with etoy funds. As Udatny recalls, “It was the lowest point in my life ever. There was nothing left; I could not rely on etoy any more. I did not even have clothes, apart from the etoy uniform.” (Wishart & Boschler: 104) Here the etoy story repeats a common theme from the history of the avant gardes as forms of collective subjectivity. After Digital Hijack, etoy went into a bit of a slump. It’s something of a problem for a group so dependent on recognition from the other of the media, that without a buzz around them, etoy would tend to collapse in on itself like a fading supernova. Zai spend the early part of 1997 working up a series of management documents, in which he appeared as the group’s managing director. Zai employed the current management theory rhetoric of employee ‘empowerment’ while centralizing control. Like any other corporate-Trotskyite, his line was that “We have to get used to reworking the company structure constantly.” (Wishart & Boschler: 132) The plan was for each member of etoy to register the etoy trademark in a different territory, linking identity to information via ownership. As Zai wrote “If another company uses our name in a grand way, I’ll probably shoot myself. And that would not be cool.” (Wishart & Boschler:: 132) As it turned out, another company was interested – the company that would become eToys.com. Zai received an email offering “a reasonable sum” for the etoy.com domain name. Zai was not amused. “Damned Americans, they think they can take our hunting grounds for a handful of glass pearls….”. (Wishart & Boschler: 133) On an invitation from Suzy Meszoly of C3, the etoy boys traveled to Budapest to work on “protected by etoy”, a work exploring internet security. They spent most of their time – and C3’s grant money – producing a glossy corporate brochure. The folder sported a blurb from Bjork: “etoy: immature priests from another world” – which was of course completely fabricated. When Artothek, the official art collection of the Austrian Chancellor, approached etoy wanting to buy work, the group had to confront the problem of how to actually turn their brand into a product. The idea was always that the brand was the product, but this doesn’t quite resolve the question of how to produce the kind of unique artifacts that the art world requires. Certainly the old Conceptual Art strategy of selling ‘documentation’ would not do. The solution was as brilliant as it was simple – to sell etoy shares. The ‘works’ would be ‘share certificates’ – unique objects, whose only value, on the face of it, would be that they referred back to the value of the brand. The inspiration, according to Wishart & Boschsler, was David Bowie, ‘the man who sold the world’, who had announced the first rock and roll bond on the London financial markets, backed by future earnings of his back catalogue and publishing rights. Gramazio would end up presenting Chancellor Viktor Klima with the first ‘shares’ at a press conference. “It was a great start for the project”, he said, “A real hack.” (Wishart & Boschler: 142) For this vectoral age, etoy would create the perfect vectoral art. Zai and Brainhard took off next for Pasadena, where they got the idea of reverse-engineering the online etoy.TANKSYSTEM by building an actual tank in an orange shipping container, which would become etoy.TANK 17. This premiered at the San Francisco gallery Blasthaus in June 1998. Instant stars in the small world of San Francisco art, the group began once again to disintegrate. Brainhard and Esposito resigned. Back in Europe in late 1998, Zai was preparing to graduate from the Vienna Academy of Applied Arts. His final project would recapitulate the life and death of etoy. It would exist from here on only as an online archive, a digital mausoleum. As Kubli says “there was no possibility to earn our living with etoy.” (Wishart & Boschler: 192) Zai emailed eToys.com and asked them if them if they would like to place a banner ad on etoy.com, to redirect any errant web traffic. Lawyers for eToys.com offered etoy $30,000 for the etoy.com domain name, which the remaining members of etoy – Zai, Gramazio, Kubli – refused. The offer went up to $100,000, which they also refused. Through their lawyer Peter Wild they demanded $750,000. In September 1999, while etoy were making a business presentation as their contribution to Ars Electronica, eToys.com lodged a complaint against etoy in the Los Angeles Superior Court. The company hired Bruce Wessel, of the heavyweight LA law firm Irell & Manella, who specialized in trademark, copyright and other intellectual property litigation. The complaint Wessel drafted alleged that etoy had infringed and diluted the eToys trademark, were practicing unfair competition and had committed “intentional interference with prospective economic damage.” (Wishart & Boschler: 199) Wessel demanded an injunction that would oblige etoy to cease using its trademark and take down its etoy.com website. The complaint also sought to prevent etoy from selling shares, and demanded punitive damages. Displaying the aggressive lawyering for which he was so handsomely paid, Wessel invoked the California Unfair Competition Act, which was meant to protect citizens from fraudulent business scams. Meant as a piece of consumer protection legislation, its sweeping scope made it available for inventive suits such as Wessel’s against etoy. Wessel was able to use pretty much everything from the archive etoy built against it. As Wishart and Bochsler write, “The court papers were like a delicately curated catalogue of its practices.” (Wishart & Boschler: 199) And indeed, legal documents in copyright and trademark cases may be the most perfect literature of the vectoral age. The Unfair Competition claim was probably aimed at getting the suit heard in a Californian rather than a Federal court in which intellectual property issues were less frequently litigated. The central aim of the eToys suit was the trademark infringement, but on that head their claims were not all that strong. According to the 1946 Lanham Act, similar trademarks do not infringe upon each other if there they are for different kinds of business or in different geographical areas. The Act also says that the right to own a trademark depends on its use. So while etoy had not registered their trademark and eToys had, etoy were actually up and running before eToys, and could base their trademark claim on this fact. The eToys case rested on a somewhat selective reading of the facts. Wessel claimed that etoy was not using its trademark in the US when eToys was registered in 1997. Wessel did not dispute the fact that etoy existed in Europe prior to that time. He asserted that owning the etoy.com domain name was not sufficient to establish a right to the trademark. If the intention of the suit was to bully etoy into giving in, it had quite the opposite effect. It pissed them off. “They felt again like the teenage punks they had once been”, as Wishart & Bochsler put it. Their art imploded in on itself for lack of attention, but called upon by another, it flourished. Wessel and eToys.com unintentionally triggered a dialectic that worked in quite the opposite way to what they intended. The more pressure they put on etoy, the more valued – and valuable – they felt etoy to be. Conceptual business, like conceptual art, is about nothing but the management of signs within the constraints of given institutional forms of market. That this conflict was about nothing made it a conflict about everything. It was a perfectly vectoral struggle. Zai and Gramazio flew to the US to fire up enthusiasm for their cause. They asked Wolfgang Staehle of The Thing to register the domain toywar.com, as a space for anti-eToys activities at some remove from etoy.com, and as a safe haven should eToys prevail with their injunction in having etoy.com taken down. The etoy defense was handled by Marcia Ballard in New York and Robert Freimuth in Los Angeles. In their defense, they argued that etoy had existed since 1994, had registered its globally accessible domain in 1995, and won an international art prize in 1996. To counter a claim by eToys that they had a prior trademark claim because they had bought a trademark from another company that went back to 1990, Ballard and Freimuth argued that this particular trademark only applied to the importation of toys from the previous owner’s New York base and thus had no relevance. They capped their argument by charging that eToys had not shown that its customers were really confused by the existence of etoy. With Christmas looming, eToys wanted a quick settlement, so they offered Zurich-based etoy lawyer Peter Wild $160,000 in shares and cash for the etoy domain. Kubli was prepared to negotiate, but Zai and Gramazio wanted to gamble – and raise the stakes. As Zai recalls: “We did not want to be just the victims; that would have been cheap. We wanted to be giants too.” (Wishart & Boschler: 207) They refused the offer. The case was heard in November 1999 before Judge Rafeedie in the Federal Court. Freimuth, for etoy, argued that federal Court was the right place for what was essentially a trademark matter. Robert Kleiger, for eToys, countered that it should stay where it was because of the claims under the California Unfair Competition act. Judge Rafeedie took little time in agreeing with the eToys lawyer. Wessel’s strategy paid off and eToys won the first skirmish. The first round of a quite different kind of conflict opened when etoy sent out their first ‘toywar’ mass mailing, drawing the attention of the net.art, activism and theory crowd to these events. This drew a report from Felix Stalder in Telepolis: “Fences are going up everywhere, molding what once seemed infinite space into an overcrowded and tightly controlled strip mall.” (Stalder ) The positive feedback from the net only emboldened etoy. For the Los Angeles court, lawyers for etoy filed papers arguing that the sale of ‘shares’ in etoy was not really a stock offering. “The etoy.com website is not about commerce per se, it is about artist and social protest”, they argued. (Wishart & Boschler: 209) They were obliged, in other words, to assert a difference that the art itself had intended to blur in order to escape eToy’s claims under the Unfair Competition Act. Moreover, etoy argued that there was no evidence of a victim. Nobody was claiming to have been fooled by etoy into buying something under false pretences. Ironically enough, art would turn out in hindsight to be a more straightforward transaction here, involving less simulation or dissimulation, than investing in a dot.com. Perhaps we have reached the age when art makes more, not less, claim than business to the rhetorical figure of ‘reality’. Having defended what appeared to be the vulnerable point under the Unfair Competition law, etoy went on the attack. It was the failure of eToys to do a proper search for other trademarks that created the problem in the first place. Meanwhile, in Federal Court, lawyers for etoy launched a counter-suit that reversed the claims against them made by eToys on the trademark question. While the suits and counter suits flew, eToys.com upped their offer to settle to a package of cash and shares worth $400,000. This rather puzzled the etoy lawyers. Those choosing to sue don’t usually try at the same time to settle. Lawyer Peter Wild advised his clients to take the money, but the parallel tactics of eToys.com only encouraged them to dig in their heels. “We felt that this was a tremendous final project for etoy”, says Gramazio. As Zai says, “eToys was our ideal enemy – we were its worst enemy.” (Wishart & Boschler: 210) Zai reported the offer to the net in another mass mail. Most people advised them to take the money, including Doug Rushkoff and Heath Bunting. Paul Garrin counseled fighting on. The etoy agents offered to settle for $750,000. The case came to court in late November 1999 before Judge Shook. The Judge accepted the plausibility of the eToys version of the facts on the trademark issue, which included the purchase of a registered trademark from another company that went back to 1990. He issued an injunction on their behalf, and added in his statement that he was worried about “the great danger of children being exposed to profane and hardcore pornographic issues on the computer.” (Wishart & Boschler: 222) The injunction was all eToys needed to get Network Solutions to shut down the etoy.com domain. Zai sent out a press release in early December, which percolated through Slashdot, rhizome, nettime (Staehle) and many other networks, and catalyzed the net community into action. A debate of sorts started on investor websites such as fool.com. The eToys stock price started to slide, and etoy ‘warriors’ felt free to take the credit for it. The story made the New York Times on 9th December, Washington Post on the 10th, Wired News on the 11th. Network Solutions finally removed the etoy.com domain on the 10th December. Zai responded with a press release: “this is robbery of digital territory, American imperialism, corporate destruction and bulldozing in the way of the 19th century.” (Wishart & Boschler: 237) RTMark set up a campaign fund for toywar, managed by Survival Research Laboratories’ Mark Pauline. The RTMark press release promised a “new internet ‘game’ designed to destroy eToys.com.” (Wishart & Boschler: 239) The RTMark press release grabbed the attention of the Associated Press newswire. The eToys.com share price actually rose on December 13th. Goldman Sachs’ e-commerce analyst Anthony Noto argued that the previous declines in the Etoys share price made it a good buy. Goldman Sachs was the lead underwriter of the eToys IPO. Noto’s writings may have been nothing more than the usual ‘IPOetry’ of the time, but the crash of the internet bubble was some months away yet. The RTMark campaign was called ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’. It used the Floodnet technique that Ricardo Dominguez used in support of the Zapatistas. As Dominguez said, “this hysterical power-play perfectly demonstrates the intensions of the new net elite; to turn the World Wide Web into their own private home-shopping network.” (Wishart & Boschler: 242) The Floodnet attack may have slowed the eToys.com server down a bit, but it was robust and didn’t crash. Ironically, it ran on open source software. Dominguez claims that the ‘Twelve Days’ campaign, which relied on individuals manually launching Floodnet from their own computers, was not designed to destroy the eToys site, but to make a protest felt. “We had a single-bullet script that could have taken down eToys – a tactical nuke, if you will. But we felt this script did not represent the presence of a global group of people gathered to bear witness to a wrong.” (Wishart & Boschler: 245) While the eToys engineers did what they could to keep the site going, eToys also approached universities and businesses whose systems were being used to host Floodnet attacks. The Thing, which hosted Dominguez’s eToys Floodnet site was taken offline by The Thing’s ISP, Verio. After taking down the Floodnet scripts, The Thing was back up, restoring service to the 200 odd websites that The Thing hosted besides the offending Floodnet site. About 200 people gathered on December 20th at a demonstration against eToys outside the Museum of Modern Art. Among the crowd were Santas bearing signs that said ‘Coal for eToys’. The rally, inside the Museum, was led by the Reverend Billy of the Church of Stop Shopping: “We are drowning in a sea of identical details”, he said. (Wishart & Boschler: 249-250) Meanwhile etoy worked on the Toywar Platform, an online agitpop theater spectacle, in which participants could act as soldiers in the toywar. This would take some time to complete – ironically the dispute threatened to end before this last etoy artwork was ready, giving etoy further incentives to keep the dispute alive. The etoy agents had a new lawyer, Chris Truax, who was attracted to the case by the publicity it was generating. Through Truax, etoy offered to sell the etoy domain and trademark for $3.7 million. This may sound like an insane sum, but to put it in perspective, the business.com site changed hands for $7.5 million around this time. On December 29th, Wessel signaled that eToys was prepared to compromise. The problem was, the Toywar Platform was not quite ready, so etoy did what it could to drag out the negotiations. The site went live just before the scheduled court hearings, January 10th 2000. “TOYWAR.com is a place where all servers and all involved people melt and build a living system. In our eyes it is the best way to express and document what’s going on at the moment: people start to about new ways to fight for their ideas, their lifestyle, contemporary culture and power relations.” (Wishart & Boschler: 263) Meanwhile, in a California courtroom, Truax demanded that Network Solutions restore the etoy domain, that eToys pay the etoy legal expenses, and that the case be dropped without prejudice. No settlement was reached. Negotiations dragged on for another two weeks, with the etoy agents’ attention somewhat divided between two horizons – art and law. The dispute was settled on 25th January. Both parties dismissed their complaints without prejudice. The eToys company would pay the etoy artists $40,000 for legal costs, and contact Network Solutions to reinstate the etoy domain. “It was a pleasure doing business with one of the biggest e-commerce giants in the world” ran the etoy press release. (Wishart & Boschler: 265) That would make a charming end to the story. But what goes around comes around. Brainhard, still pissed off with Zai after leaving the group in San Francisco, filed for the etoy trademark in Austria. After that the internal etoy wranglings just gets boring. But it was fun while it lasted. What etoy grasped intuitively was the nexus between the internet as a cultural space and the transformation of the commodity economy in a yet-more abstract direction – its becoming-vectoral. They zeroed in on the heart of the new era of conceptual business – the brand. As Wittgenstein says of language, what gives words meaning is other words, so too for brands. What gives brands meaning is other brands. There is a syntax for brands as there is for words. What etoy discovered is how to insert a new brand into that syntax. The place of eToys as a brand depended on their business competition with other brands – with Toys ‘R’ Us, for example. For etoy, the syntax they discovered for relating their brand to another one was a legal opposition. What made etoy interesting was their lack of moral posturing. Their abandonment of leftist rhetorics opened them up to exploring the territory where media and business meet, but it also made them vulnerable to being consumed by the very dialectic that created the possibility of staging etoy in the first place. By abandoning obsolete political strategies, they discovered a media tactic, which collapsed for want of a new strategy, for the new vectoral terrain on which we find ourselves. Works Cited Negri, Antonio. Time for Revolution. Continuum, London, 2003. Warhol, Andy. From A to B and Back Again. Picador, New York, 1984. Stalder, Felix. ‘Fences in Cyberspace: Recent events in the battle over domain names’. 19 Jun 2003. <http://felix.openflows.org/html/fences.php>. Wark, McKenzie. ‘A Hacker Manifesto [version 4.0]’ 19 Jun 2003. http://subsol.c3.hu/subsol_2/contributors0/warktext.html. Klein, Naomi. No Logo. Harper Collins, London, 2000. Wishart, Adam & Regula Bochsler. Leaving Reality Behind: etoy vs eToys.com & Other Battles to Control Cyberspace Ecco Books, 2003. Staehle, Wolfgang. ‘<nettime> etoy.com shut down by US court.’ 19 Jun 2003. http://amsterdam.nettime.org/Lists-Archives/nettime-l-9912/msg00005.html Links http://amsterdam.nettime.org/Lists-Archives/nettime-l-9912/msg00005.htm http://felix.openflows.org/html/fences.html http://subsol.c3.hu/subsol_2/contributors0/warktext.html Citation reference for this article Substitute your date of access for Dn Month Year etc... MLA Style Wark, McKenzie. "Toywars" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture< http://www.media-culture.org.au/0306/02-toywars.php>. APA Style Wark, M. (2003, Jun 19). Toywars. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture, 6,< http://www.media-culture.org.au/0306/02-toywars.php>

Introduction The social roles of alcohol consumption are rich and varied, with different types of alcoholic beverages reflecting important symbolic and cultural meanings. Sparkling wine is especially notable for its association with secular and sacred celebrations. Indeed, sparkling wine is rarely drunk as a matter of routine; bottles of such wine signal special occasions, heightened by the formality and excitement associated with opening the bottle and controlling (or not!) the resultant fizz (Faith). Originating in England and France in the late 1600s, sparkling wine marked a dramatic shift in winemaking techniques, with winemakers deliberately adding “fizz” or bubbles to their product (Faith). The resulting effervescent wines were first enjoyed by the social elite of European society, signifying privilege, wealth, luxury and nobility; however, new techniques for producing, selling and distributing the wines created a mass consumer culture (Guy). Production of Australian sparkling wines began in the late nineteenth century and consumption remains popular. As a “new world” country – that is, one not located in the wine producing areas of Europe – Australian sparkling wines cannot directly draw on the same marketing traditions as those of the “old world”. One enterprising company, Treasury Wine Estates, markets a range of wines, including a sparkling variety, called 19 Crimes, that draws, not on European traditions tied to luxury, wealth and prestige, but Australia’s colonial history. Using Augmented Reality and interactive story-telling, 19 Crimes wine labels feature convicts who had committed one or more of 19 crimes punishable by transportation to Australia from Britain. The marketing of sparkling wine using convict images and convict stories of transportation have not diminished the celebratory role of consuming “bubbly”. Rather, in exploring the marketing techniques employed by the company, particularly when linked to the traditional drink of celebration, we argue that 19 Crimes, while fun and informative, nevertheless romanticises convict experiences and Australia’s convict past. Convict Heritage and Re-Appropriating the Convict Image Australia’s cultural heritage is undeniably linked to its convict past. Convicts were transported to Australia from England and Ireland over an 80-year period between 1788-1868. While the convict system in Australia was not predominantly characterised by incarceration and institutionalisation (Jones 18) the work they performed was often forced and physically taxing, and food and clothing shortages were common. Transportation meant exile, and “it was a fierce punishment that ejected men, women and children from their homelands into distant and unknown territories” (Bogle 23). Convict experiences of transportation often varied and were dependent not just on the offender themselves (for example their original crime, how willing they were to work and their behaviour), but also upon the location they were sent to. “Normal” punishment could include solitary confinement, physical reprimands (flogging) or hard labour in chain gangs. From the time that transportation ceased in the mid 1800s, efforts were made to distance Australia’s future from the “convict stain” of its past (Jones). Many convict establishments were dismantled or repurposed with the intent of forgetting the past, although some became sites of tourist visitation from the time of closure. Importantly, however, the wider political and social reluctance to engage in discourse regarding Australia’s “unsavoury historical incident” of its convict past continued up until the 1970s (Jones 26). During the 1970s Australia’s convict heritage began to be discussed more openly, and indeed, more favourably (Welch 597). Many today now view Australia’s convicts as “reluctant pioneers” (Barnard 7), and as such they are celebrated within our history. In short, the convict heritage is now something to be celebrated rather than shunned. This celebration has been capitalised upon by tourist industries and more recently by wine label 19 Crimes. “19 Crimes: Cheers to the Infamous” The Treasury Wine Estates brand launched 19 Crimes in 2011 to a target population of young men aged between 18 and 34 (Lyons). Two limited edition vintages sold out in 2011 with “virtually no promotion” (19 Crimes, “Canadians”). In 2017, 19 Crimes became the first wine to use an Augmented Reality (AR) app (the app was later renamed Living Wines Labels in 2018) that allowed customers to hover their [smart] phone in front of a bottle of the wine and [watch] mugshots of infamous 18th century British criminals come to life as 3D characters who recount their side of the story. Having committed at least one of the 19 crimes punishable by exile to Australia, these convicts now humor and delight wine drinkers across the globe. (Lirie) Given the target audience of the 19 Crimes wine was already 18-34 year old males, AR made sense as a marketing technique. Advertisers are well aware the millennial generation is “digitally empowered” and the AR experience was created to not only allow “consumers to engage with 19 Crimes wines but also explore some of the stories of Australia’s convict past … [as] told by the convicts-turned-colonists themselves!” (Lilley cited in Szentpeteri 1-2). The strategy encourages people to collect convicts by purchasing other 19 Crimes alcohol to experience a wider range of stories. The AR has been highly praised: they [the labels] animate, explaining just what went down and giving a richer experience to your beverage; engaging both the mind and the taste buds simultaneously … . ‘A fantastic app that brings a little piece of history to life’, writes one user on the Apple app store. ‘I jumped out of my skin when the mugshot spoke to me’. (Stone) From here, the success of 19 Crimes has been widespread. For example, in November 2020, media reports indicated that 19 Crimes red wine was the most popular supermarket wine in the UK (Lyons; Pearson-Jones). During the UK COVID lockdown in 2020, 19 Crimes sales increased by 148 per cent in volume (Pearson-Jones). This success is in no small part to its innovative marketing techniques, which of course includes the AR technology heralded as a way to enhance the customer experience (Lirie). The 19 Crimes wine label explicitly celebrates infamous convicts turned settlers. The website “19 Crimes: Cheers to the Infamous” incorporates ideas of celebration, champagne and bubbles by encouraging people to toast their mates: the convicts on our wines are not fiction. They were of flesh and blood, criminals and scholars. Their punishment of transportation should have shattered their spirits. Instead, it forged a bond stronger than steel. Raise a glass to our convict past and the principles these brave men and women lived by. (19 Crimes, “Cheers”) While using alcohol, and in particular sparkling wine, to participate in a toasting ritual is the “norm” for many social situations, what is distinctive about the 19 Crimes label is that they have chosen to merchandise and market known offenders for individuals to encounter and collect as part of their drinking entertainment. This is an innovative and highly popular concept. According to one marketing company: “19 Crimes Wines celebrate the rebellious spirit of the more than 160,000 exiled men and women, the rule breakers and law defying citizens that forged a new culture and national spirit in Australia” (Social Playground). The implication is that by drinking this brand of [sparkling] wine, consumers are also partaking in celebrating those convicts who “forged” Australian culture and national spirit. In many ways, this is not a “bad thing”. 19 Crimes are promoting Australian cultural history in unique ways and on a very public and international scale. The wine also recognises the hard work and success stories of the many convicts that did indeed build Australia. Further, 19 Crimes are not intentionally minimising the experiences of convicts. They implicitly acknowledge the distress felt by convicts noting that it “should have shattered their spirits”. However, at times, the narratives and marketing tools romanticise the convict experience and culturally reinterpret a difficult experience into one of novelty. They also tap into Australia’s embracement of larrikinism. In many ways, 19 Crimes are encouraging consumers to participate in larrikin behaviour, which Bellanta identifies as being irreverent, mocking authority, showing a disrespect for social subtleties and engaging in boisterous drunkenness with mates. Celebrating convict history with a glass of bubbly certainly mocks authority, as does participating in cultural practices that subvert original intentions. Several companies in the US and Europe are now reportedly offering the service of selling wine bottle labels with customisable mugshots. Journalist Legaspi suggests that the perfect gift for anyone who wants a sparkling wine or cider to toast with during the Yuletide season would be having a customisable mugshot as a wine bottle label. The label comes with the person’s mugshot along with a “goofy ‘crime’ that fits the person-appealing” (Sotelo cited in Legaspi). In 2019, Social Playground partnered with MAAKE and Dan Murphy's stores around Australia to offer customers their own personalised sticker mugshots that could be added to the wine bottles. The campaign was intended to drive awareness of 19 Crimes, and mugshot photo areas were set up in each store. Customers could then pose for a photo against the “mug shot style backdrop. Each photo was treated with custom filters to match the wine labels actual packaging” and then printed on a sticker (Social Playground). The result was a fun photo moment, delivered as a personalised experience. Shoppers were encouraged to purchase the product to personalise their bottle, with hundreds of consumers taking up the offer. With instant SMS delivery, consumers also received a branded print that could be shared so [sic] social media, driving increased brand awareness for 19 Crimes. (Social Playground) While these customised labels were not interactive, they lent a unique and memorable spin to the wine. In many circumstances, adding personalised photographs to wine bottles provides a perfect and unique gift; yet, could be interpreted as making light of the conditions experienced by convicts. However, within our current culture, which celebrates our convict heritage and embraces crime consumerism, the reframing of a mugshot from a tool used by the State to control into a novelty gift or memento becomes culturally acceptable and desirable. Indeed, taking a larrikin stance, the reframing of the mugshot is to be encouraged. It should be noted that while some prisons were photographing criminals as early as the 1840s, it was not common practice before the 1870s in England. The Habitual Criminals Act of 1869 has been attributed with accelerating the use of criminal photographs, and in 1871 the Crimes Prevention Act mandated the photographing of criminals (Clark). Further, in Australia, convicts only began to be photographed in the early 1870s (Barnard) and only in Western Australia and Port Arthur (Convict Records, “Resources”), restricting the availability of images which 19 Crimes can utilise. The marketing techniques behind 19 Crimes and the Augmented app offered by Living Wines Labels ensure that a very particular picture of the convicts is conveyed to its customers. As seen above, convicts are labelled in jovial terms such as “rule breakers”, having a “rebellious spirit” or “law defying citizens”, again linking to notions of larrikinism and its celebration. 19 Crimes have been careful to select convicts that have a story linked to “rule breaking, culture creating and overcoming adversity” (19 Crimes, “Snoop”) as well as convicts who have become settlers, or in other words, the “success stories”. This is an ingenious marketing strategy. Through selecting success stories, 19 Crimes are able to create an environment where consumers can enjoy their bubbly while learning about a dark period of Australia’s heritage. Yet, there is a distancing within the narratives that these convicts are actually “criminals”, or where their criminal behaviour is acknowledged, it is presented in a way that celebrates it. Words such as criminals, thieves, assault, manslaughter and repeat offenders are foregone to ensure that consumers are never really reminded that they may be celebrating “bad” people. The crimes that make up 19 Crimes include: Grand Larceny, theft above the value of one shilling. Petty Larceny, theft under one shilling. Buying or receiving stolen goods, jewels, and plate... Stealing lead, iron, or copper, or buying or receiving. Impersonating an Egyptian. Stealing from furnished lodgings. Setting fire to underwood. Stealing letters, advancing the postage, and secreting the money. Assault with an intent to rob. Stealing fish from a pond or river. Stealing roots, trees, or plants, or destroying them. Bigamy. Assaulting, cutting, or burning clothes. Counterfeiting the copper coin... Clandestine marriage. Stealing a shroud out of a grave. Watermen carrying too many passengers on the Thames, if any drowned. Incorrigible rogues who broke out of Prison and persons reprieved from capital punishment. Embeuling Naval Stores, in certain cases. (19 Crimes, “Crimes”) This list has been carefully chosen to fit the narrative that convicts were transported in the main for what now appear to be minimal offences, rather than for serious crimes which would otherwise have been punished by death, allowing the consumer to enjoy their bubbly without engaging too closely with the convict story they are experiencing. The AR experience offered by these labels provides consumers with a glimpse of the convicts’ stories. Generally, viewers are told what crime the convict committed, a little of the hardships they encountered and the success of their outcome. Take for example the transcript of the Blanc de Blancs label: as a soldier I fought for country. As a rebel I fought for cause. As a man I fought for freedom. My name is James Wilson and I fight to the end. I am not ashamed to speak the truth. I was tried for treason. Banished to Australia. Yet I challenged my fate and brought six of my brothers to freedom. Think that we have been nearly nine years in this living tomb since our first arrest and that it is impossible for mind or body to withstand the continual strain that is upon them. One or the other must give way. While the contrived voice of James Wilson speaks about continual strain on the body and mind, and having to live in a “living tomb” [Australia] the actual difficulties experienced by convicts is not really engaged with. Upon further investigation, it is also evident that James Wilson was not an ordinary convict, nor was he strictly tried for treason. Information on Wilson is limited, however from what is known it is clear that he enlisted in the British Army at age 17 to avoid arrest when he assaulted a policeman (Snoots). In 1864 he joined the Irish Republican Brotherhood and became a Fenian; which led him to desert the British Army in 1865. The following year he was arrested for desertion and was convicted by the Dublin General Court Martial for the crime of being an “Irish rebel” (Convict Records, “Wilson”), desertion and mutinous conduct (photo from the Wild Geese Memorial cited in The Silver Voice). Prior to transportation, Wilson was photographed at Dublin Mountjoy Prison in 1866 (Manuscripts and Archives Division), and this is the photo that appears on the Blanc de Blancs label. He arrived in Fremantle, Western Australia on 9 January 1868. On 3 June 1869 Wilson “was sentenced to fourteen days solitary, confinement including ten days on bread and water” (photo from the Wild Geese Memorial cited in The Silver Voice) for an unknown offence or breach of conduct. A few years into his sentence he sent a letter to a fellow Fenian New York journalist John Devoy. Wilson wrote that his was a voice from the tomb. For is not this a living tomb? In the tomb it is only a man’s body is good for the worms but in this living tomb the canker worm of care enters the very soul. Think that we have been nearly nine years in this living tomb since our first arrest and that it is impossible for mind or body to withstand the continual strain that is upon them. One or the other must give way. (Wilson, 1874, cited in FitzSimons; emphasis added) Note the last two lines of the extract of the letter have been used verbatim by 19 Crimes to create their interactive label. This letter sparked a rescue mission which saw James Wilson and five of his fellow prisoners being rescued and taken to America where Wilson lived out his life (Reid). This escape has been nicknamed “The Great Escape” and a memorial was been built in 2005 in Rockingham where the escape took place. While 19 Crimes have re-created many elements of Wilson’s story in the interactive label, they have romanticised some aspects while generalising the conditions endured by convicts. For example, citing treason as Wilson’s crime rather than desertion is perhaps meant to elicit more sympathy for his situation. Further, the selection of a Fenian convict (who were often viewed as political prisoners that were distinct from the “criminal convicts”; Amos) allows 19 Crimes to build upon narratives of rule breaking by focussing on a convict who was sent to Australia for fighting for what he believed in. In this way, Wilson may not be seen as a “real” criminal, but rather someone to be celebrated and admired. Conclusion As a “new world” producer of sparkling wine, it was important for 19 Crimes to differentiate itself from the traditionally more sophisticated market of sparkling-wine consumers. At a lower price range, 19 Crimes caters to a different, predominantly younger, less wealthy clientele, who nevertheless consume alcoholic drinks symbolic to the occasion. The introduction of an effervescent wine to their already extensive collection encourages consumers to buy their product to use in celebratory contexts where the consumption of bubbly defines the occasion. The marketing of Blanc de Blancs directly draws upon ideas of celebration whilst promoting an image and story of a convict whose situation is admired – not the usual narrative that one associates with celebration and bubbly. Blanc de Blancs, and other 19 Crimes wines, celebrate “the rules they [convicts] broke and the culture they built” (19 Crimes, “Crimes”). This is something that the company actively promotes through its website and elsewhere. Using AR, 19 Crimes are providing drinkers with selective vantage points that often sensationalise the reality of transportation and disengage the consumer from that reality (Wise and McLean 569). Yet, 19 Crimes are at least engaging with the convict narrative and stimulating interest in the convict past. Consumers are being informed, convicts are being named and their stories celebrated instead of shunned. Consumers are comfortable drinking bubbly from a bottle that features a convict because the crimes committed by the convict (and/or to the convict by the criminal justice system) occurred so long ago that they have now been romanticised as part of Australia’s colourful history. The mugshot has been re-appropriated within our culture to become a novelty or fun interactive experience in many social settings. For example, many dark tourist sites allow visitors to take home souvenir mugshots from decommissioned police and prison sites to act as a memento of their visit. The promotional campaign for people to have their own mugshot taken and added to a wine bottle, while now a cultural norm, may diminish the real intent behind a mugshot for some people. For example, while drinking your bubbly or posing for a fake mugshot, it may be hard to remember that at the time their photographs were taken, convicts and transportees were “ordered to sit for the camera” (Barnard 7), so as to facilitate State survelliance and control over these individuals (Wise and McLean 562). Sparkling wine, and the bubbles that it contains, are intended to increase fun and enjoyment. Yet, in the case of 19 Crimes, the application of a real-life convict to a sparkling wine label adds an element of levity, but so too novelty and romanticism to what are ultimately narratives of crime and criminal activity; thus potentially “making light” of the convict experience. 19 Crimes offers consumers a remarkable way to interact with our convict heritage. The labels and AR experience promote an excitement and interest in convict heritage with potential to spark discussion around transportation. The careful selection of convicts and recognition of the hardships surrounding transportation have enabled 19 Crimes to successfully re-appropriate the convict image for celebratory occasions. References 19 Crimes. “Cheers to the Infamous.” 19 Crimes, 2020. 14 Dec. 2020 <https://www.19crimes.com>. ———. “The 19 Crimes.” 19 Crimes, 2020. 14 Dec. 2020 <https://www.19crimes.com/en-au/the-19-crimes>. ———. “19 Crimes Announces Multi-Year Partnership with Entertainment Icon Snoop Dogg.” PR Newswire 16 Apr. 2020. 15 Dec. 2020 <https://www.prnewswire.com/news-releases/19-crimes-announces-multi-year-partnership-with-entertainment-icon-snoop-dogg-301041585.html>. ———. “19 Crimes Canadians Not Likely to Commit, But Clamouring For.” PR Newswire 10 Oct. 2013. 15 Dec. 2020 <https://www.prnewswire.com/news-releases/19-crimes-canadians-not-likely-to-commit-but-clamouring-for-513086721.html>. Amos, Keith William. The Fenians and Australia c 1865-1880. 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FitzSimons, Peter. “The Catalpa: How the Plan to Break Free Irish Prisoners in Fremantle Was Hatched, and Funded.” Sydney Morning Herald 21 Apr. 2019. 15 Dec. 2020 <https://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/books/the-catalpa-how-the-plan-to-break-free-irish-prisoners-in-fremantle-was-hatched-and-funded-20190416-p51eq2.html>. Guy, Kolleen. When Champagne Became French: Wine and the Making of a National identity. Baltimore, Maryland: Johns Hopkins UP, 2007. Jones, Jennifer Kathleen. Historical Archaeology of Tourism at Port Arthur, Tasmania, 1885-1960. PhD Dissertation, Simon Fraser University, 2016. Legaspi, John. “Need a Wicked Gift Idea? Try This Wine Brand’s Customizable Bottle Label with Your Own Mugshot.” Manila Bulletin 18 Nov. 2020. 14 Dec. 2020 <https://mb.com.ph/2020/11/18/need-a-wicked-gift-idea-try-this-wine-brands-customizable-bottle-label-with-your-own-mugshot/>. 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Pearson-Jones, Bridie. “Cheers to That! £9 Bottle of Australian Red Inspired by 19 Crimes That Deported Convicts in 18th Century Tops List as UK’s Favourite Supermarket Wine.” Daily Mail 22 Nov. 2020. 14 Dec. 2020 <https://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/food/article-8933567/19-Crimes-Red-UKs-favourite-supermarket-wine.html>. Reid, Richard. “Object Biography: ‘A Noble Whale Ship and Commander’ – The Catalpa Rescue, April 1876.” National Museum of Australia n.d. 15 Dec. 2020 <https://www.nma.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0015/2553/NMA_Catalpa.pdf>. Snoots, Jen. “James Wilson.” Find A Grave 2007. 15 Dec. 2020 <https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/19912884/james-wilson>. Social Playground. “Printing Wine Labels with 19 Crimes.” Social Playground 2019. 14 Dec. 2020 <https://www.socialplayground.com.au/case-studies/maake-19-crimes>. 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In this paper we explore the rise of anti-gambling apps in the context of the massive expansion of gambling in new spheres of life (online and offline) and an acceleration in strategies of anticipatory and individualised management of harm caused by gambling. These apps, and the techniques and forms of labour they demand, are examples of and a mechanism through which a mode of governance premised on ‘self-care’ and ‘self-control’ is articulated and put into practice. To support this argument, we explore two government initiatives in the Australian context. Quit Pokies, a mobile app project between the Moreland City Council, North East Primary Care Partnership and the Victorian Local Governance Association, is an example of an emerging service paradigm of ‘self-care’ that uses online and mobile platforms with geo-location to deliver real time health and support interventions. A similar mobile app, Gambling Terminator, was launched by the NSW government in late 2012. Both apps work on the premise that interrupting a gaming session through a trigger, described by Quit Pokies’ creator as a “tap on the shoulder” provides gamblers the opportunity to take a reflexive stance and cut short their gambling practice in the course of play. We critically examine these apps as self-disciplining techniques of contemporary neo-liberalism directed towards anticipating and reducing the personal harm and social risk associated with gambling. We analyse the material and discursive elements, and new forms of user labour, through which this consumable media is framed and assembled. We argue that understanding the role of these apps, and mobile media more generally, in generating new techniques and technologies of the self, is important for identifying emerging modes of governance and their implications at a time when gambling is going through an immense period of cultural normalisation in online and offline environments. The Australian context is particularly germane for the way gambling permeates everyday spaces of sociality and leisure, and the potential of gambling interventions to interrupt and re-configure these spaces and institute a new kind of subject-state relation. Gambling in Australia Though a global phenomenon, the growth and expansion of gambling manifests distinctly in Australia because of its long cultural and historical attachment to games of chance. Australians are among the biggest betters and losers in the world (Ziolkowski), mainly on Electronic Gaming Machines (EGM) or pokies. As of 2013, according to The World Count of Gaming Machine (Ziolkowski), there were 198,150 EGMs in the country, of which 197,274 were slot machines, with the rest being electronic table games of roulette, blackjack and poker. There are 118 persons per machine in Australia. New South Wales is the jurisdiction with most EGMs (95,799), followed by Queensland (46,680) and Victoria (28,758) (Ziolkowski). Gambling is significant in Australian cultural history and average Australian households spend at least some money on different forms of gambling, from pokies to scratch cards, every year (Worthington et al.). In 1985, long-time gambling researcher Geoffrey Caldwell stated thatAustralians seem to take a pride in the belief that we are a nation of gamblers. Thus we do not appear to be ashamed of our gambling instincts, habits and practices. Gambling is regarded by most Australians as a normal, everyday practice in contrast to the view that gambling is a sinful activity which weakens the moral fibre of the individual and the community. (Caldwell 18) The omnipresence of gambling opportunities in most Australian states has been further facilitated by the availability of online and mobile gambling and gambling-like spaces. Social casino apps, for instance, are widely popular in Australia. The slots social casino app Slotomania was the most downloaded product in the iTunes store in 2012 (Metherell). In response to the high rate of different forms of gambling in Australia, a range of disparate interest groups have identified the expansion of gambling as a concerning trend. Health researchers have pointed out that online gamblers have a higher risk of experiencing problems with gambling (at 30%) compared to 15% in offline bettors (Hastings). The incidence of gambling problems is also disproportionately high in specific vulnerable demographics, including university students (Cervini), young adults prone to substance abuse problems (Hayatbakhsh et al.), migrants (Tanasornnarong et al.; Scull & Woolcock; Ohtsuka & Ohtsuka), pensioners (Hing & Breen), female players (Lee), Aboriginal communities (Young et al.; McMillen & Donnelly) and individuals experiencing homelessness (Holsworth et al.). While there is general recognition of the personal and public health impacts of gambling in Australia, there is a contradiction in the approach to gambling at a governance level. On one hand, its expansion is promoted and even encouraged by the federal and state governments, as gambling is an enormous source of revenue, as evidenced, for example, by the construction of the new Crown casino in Barangaroo in Sydney (Markham & Young). Campaigns trying to limit the use of poker machines, which are associated with concerns over problem gambling and addiction, are deemed by the gambling lobby as un-Australian. Paradoxically, efforts to restrict gambling or control gambling winnings have also been described as un-Australian, such as in the Australian Taxation Office’s campaign against MONA’s founder, David Walsh, whose immense art collection was acquired with the funds from a gambling scheme (Global Mail). On the other hand, people experiencing problems with gambling are often categorised as addicts and the ultimate blame (and responsibility) is attributed to the individual. In Australia, attitudes towards people who are arguably addicted to gambling are different than those towards individuals afflicted by alcohol or drug abuse (Jean). While “Australians tend to be sympathetic towards people with alcohol and other drug addictions who seek help,” unless it is seen as one of the more socially acceptable forms of occasional, controlled gambling (such as sports betting, gambling on the Melbourne Cup or celebrating ANZAC Day with Two-Up), gambling is framed as an individual “problem” and “moral failing” (Jean). The expansion of gambling is the backdrop to another development in health care and public health discourse, which have for some time now been devoted to the ideal of what Lupton has called the “digitally engaged patient” (Lupton). Technologies are central to the delivery of this model of health service provision that puts the patient at the centre of, and responsible for, their own health and medical care. Lupton has pointed out how this discourse, while appearing new, is in fact the latest version of the 1970s emphasis on the ‘patient as consumer’, an idea given an extra injection by the massive development and availability of digital and interactive web-based and mobile platforms, many of these directed towards the provision of health and health-related information and services. What this means for patients is that, rather than relying solely on professional medical expertise and care, the patient is encouraged to take on some of this medical/health work to conduct practices of ‘self-care’ (Lupton). The Discourse of ‘Self-Management’ and ‘Self-Care’ The model of ‘self-care’ and ‘self-management’ by ‘empowering’ digital technology has now become a dominant discourse within health and medicine, and is increasingly deployed across a range of related sectors such as welfare services. In recent research conducted on homelessness and mobile media, for example, government department staff involved in the reform of welfare services referred to ‘self-management’ as the new service paradigm that underpins their digital reform strategy. Echoing ideas and language similar to the “digitally engaged patient”, customers of Centrelink, Medicare and other ‘human services’ are being encouraged (through planned strategic initiatives aimed at shifting targeted customer groups online) to transact with government services digitally and manage their own personal profiles and health information. One departmental staff member described this in terms of an “opportunity cost”, the savings in time otherwise spent standing in long queues in service centres (Humphry). Rather than view these examples as isolated incidents taking place within or across sectors or disciplines, these are better understood as features of an emerging ‘discursive formation’ , a term Foucault used to describe the way in which particular institutions and/or the state establish a regime of truth, or an accepted social reality and which gives definition to a new historical episteme and subject: in this case that of the self-disciplined and “digitally engaged medical/health patient”. As Foucault explained, once this subject has become fully integrated into and across the social field, it is no longer easy to excavate, since it lies below the surface of articulation and is held together through everyday actions, habits and institutional routines and techniques that appear to be universal, necessary and/normal. The way in which this citizen subject becomes a universal model and norm, however, is not a straightforward or linear story and since we are in the midst of its rise, is not a story with a foretold conclusion. Nevertheless, across a range of different fields of governance: medicine; health and welfare, we can see signs of this emerging figure of the self-caring “digitally engaged patient” constituted from a range of different techniques and practices of self-governance. In Australia, this figure is at the centre of a concerted strategy of service digitisation involving a number of cross sector initiatives such as Australia’s National EHealth Strategy (2008), the National Digital Economy Strategy (2011) and the Australian Public Service Mobile Roadmap (2013). This figure of the self-caring “digitally engaged” patient, aligns well and is entirely compatible with neo-liberal formulations of the individual and the reduced role of the state as a provider of welfare and care. Berry refers to Foucault’s definition of neoliberalism as outlined in his lectures to the College de France as a “particular form of post-welfare state politics in which the state essentially outsources the responsibility of the ‘well-being' of the population” (65). In the case of gambling, the neoliberal defined state enables the wedding of two seemingly contradictory stances: promoting gambling as a major source of revenue and capitalisation on the one hand, and identifying and treating gambling addiction as an individual pursuit and potential risk on the other. Risk avoidance strategies are focused on particular groups of people who are targeted for self-treatment to avoid the harm of gambling addiction, which is similarly framed as individual rather than socially and systematically produced. What unites and makes possible this alignment of neoliberalism and the new “digitally engaged subject/patient” is first and foremost, the construction of a subject in a chronic state of ill health. This figure is positioned as terminal from the start. They are ‘sick’, a ‘patient’, an ‘addict’: in need of immediate and continuous treatment. Secondly, this neoliberal patient/addict is enabled (we could even go so far as to say ‘empowered’) by digital technology, especially smartphones and the apps available through these devices in the form of a myriad of applications for intervening and treating ones afflictions. These apps range fromself-tracking programs such as mood regulators through to social media interventions. Anti-Pokie Apps and the Neoliberal Gambler We now turn to two examples which illustrate this alignment between neoliberalism and the new “digitally engaged subject/patient” in relation to gambling. Anti-gambling apps function to both replace or ‘take the place’ of institutions and individuals actively involved in the treatment of problem gambling and re-engineer this service through the logics of ‘self-care’ and ‘self-management’. Here, we depart somewhat from Foucault’s model of disciplinary power summed up in the institution (with the prison exemplifying this disciplinary logic) and move towards Deleuze’s understanding of power as exerted by the State not through enclosures but through diffuse and rhizomatic information flows and technologies (Deleuze). At the same time, we retain Foucault’s attention to the role and agency of the user in this power-dynamic, identifiable in the technics of self-regulation and in his ideas on governmentality. We now turn to analyse these apps more closely, and explore the way in which these articulate and perform these disciplinary logics. The app Quit Pokies was a joint venture of the North East Primary Care Partnership, the Victorian Local Governance Association and the Moreland City Council, launched in early 2014. The idea of the rational, self-reflexive and agentic user is evident in the description of the app by app developer Susan Rennie who described it this way: What they need is for someone to tap them on the shoulder and tell them to get out of there… I thought the phone could be that tap on the shoulder. The “tap on the shoulder” feature uses geolocation and works by emitting a sound alert when the user enters a gaming venue. It also provides information about each user’s losses at that venue. This “tap on the shoulder” is both an alert and a reprimand from past gambling sessions. Through the Responsible Gambling Fund, the NSW government also launched an anti-pokie app in 2013, Gambling Terminator, including a similar feature. The app runs on Apple and Android smartphone platforms, and when a person is inside a gambling venue in New South Wales it: sends reminder messages that interrupt gaming-machine play and gives you a chance to re-think your choices. It also provides instant access to live phone and online counselling services which operate 24 hours a day, seven days a week. (Google Play Store) Yet an approach that tries to prevent harm by anticipating the harm that will come from gambling at the point of entering a venue, also eliminates the chance of potential negotiations and encounters a user might have during a visit to the pub and how this experience will unfold. It reduces the “tap on the shoulder”, which may involve a far wider set of interactions and affects, to a software operation and it frames the pub or the club (which under some conditions functions as hubs for socialization and community building) as dangerous places that should be avoided. This has the potential to lead to further stigmatisation of gamblers, their isolation and their exclusion from everyday spaces. Moreland Mayor, Councillor Tapinos captures the implicit framing of self-care as a private act in his explanation of the app as a method for problem gamblers to avoid being stigmatised by, for example, publicly attending group meetings. Yet, curiously, the app has the potential to create a new kind of public stigmatisation through potentially drawing other peoples’ attention to users’ gambling play (as the alarm is triggered) generating embarrassment and humiliation at being “caught out” in an act framed as aberrant and literally, “alarming”. Both Quit Pokies and Gambling Terminator require their users to perform ‘acts’ of physical and affective labour aimed at behaviour change and developing the skills of self-control. After downloading Quit Pokies on the iPhone and launching the app, the user is presented an initial request: “Before you set up this app. please write a list of the pokies venues that you regularly use because the app will ask you to identify these venues so it can send you alerts if you spend time in these locations. It will also use your set up location to identify other venues you might use so we recommend that you set up the App in the location where you spend most time. Congratulation on choosing Quit Pokies.”Self-performed processes include installation, setting up, updating the app software, programming in gambling venues to be detected by the smartphone’s inbuilt GPS, monitoring and responding to the program’s alerts and engaging in alternate “legitimate” forms of leisure such as going to the movies or the library, having coffee with a friend or browsing Facebook. These self-performed labours can be understood as ‘technologies of the self’, a term used by Foucault to describe the way in which social members are obliged to regulate and police their ‘selves’ through a range of different techniques. While Foucault traces the origins of ‘technologies of the self’ to the Greco-Roman texts with their emphasis on “care of oneself” as one of the duties of citizenry, he notes the shift to “self-knowledge” under Christianity around the 8th century, where it became bound up in ideals of self-renunciation and truth. Quit Pokies and Gambling Terminator may signal a recuperation of the ideal of self-care, over confession and disclosure. These apps institute a set of bodily activities and obligations directed to the user’s health and wellbeing, aided through activities of self-examination such as charting your recovery through a Recovery Diary and implementing a number of suggested “Strategies for Change” such as “writing a list” and “learning about ways to manage your money better”. Writing is central to the acts of self-examination. As Jeremy Prangnell, gambling counsellor from Mission Australia for Wollongong and Shellharbour regions explained the app is “like an electronic diary, which is a really common tool for people who are trying to change their behaviour” (Thompson). The labours required by users are also implicated in the functionality and performance of the platform itself suggesting the way in which ‘technologies of the self’ simultaneously function as a form of platform work: user labour that supports and sustains the operation of digital systems and is central to the performance and continuation of digital capitalism in general (Humphry, Demanding Media). In addition to the acts of labour performed on the self and platform, bodies are themselves potentially mobilised (and put into new circuits of consumption and production), as a result of triggers to nudge users away from gambling venues, towards a range of other cultural practices in alternative social spaces considered to be more legitimate.Conclusion Whether or not these technological interventions are effective or successful is yet to be tested. Indeed, the lack of recent activity in the community forums and preponderance of issues reported on installation and use suggests otherwise, pointing to a need for more empirical research into these developments. Regardless, what we’ve tried to identify is the way in which apps such as these embody a new kind of subject-state relation that emphasises self-control of gambling harm and hastens the divestment of institutional and social responsibility at a time when gambling is going through an immense period of expansion in many respects backed by and sanctioned by the state. Patterns of smartphone take up in the mainstream population and the rise of the so called ‘mobile only population’ (ACMA) provide support for this new subject and service paradigm and are often cited as the rationale for digital service reform (APSMR). Media convergence feeds into these dynamics: service delivery becomes the new frontier for the merging of previously separate media distribution systems (Dwyer). Letters, customer service centres, face-to-face meetings and web sites, are combined and in some instances replaced, with online and mobile media platforms, accessible from multiple and mobile devices. These changes are not, however, simply the migration of services to a digital medium with little effective change to the service itself. Health and medical services are re-invented through their technological re-assemblage, bringing into play new meanings, practices and negotiations among the state, industry and neoliberal subjects (in the case of problem gambling apps, a new subjectivity, the ‘neoliberal addict’). These new assemblages are as much about bringing forth a new kind of subject and mode of governance, as they are a solution to problem gambling. 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