Academic literature on the topic 'Droughts Victoria History'

AbstractA new diatom record from Lake Victoria’s Pilkington Bay, subsampled at 21- to 25-year intervals and supported by 20 AMS dates, reveals a ∼10,000 calendar year environmental history that is supported by published diatom and pollen data from two nearby sites. With their chronologies adjusted here to account for newly documented ancient carbon effects in the lake, these three records provide a coherent, finely resolved reconstruction of Holocene climate change in equatorial East Africa. After an insolation-induced rainfall maximum ca. 8800–8300 cal yr B.P., precipitation became more seasonal and decreased abruptly ca. 8200 and 5700 yr B.P. in apparent association with northern deglaciation events. Century-scale rainfall increases occurred ca. 8500, 7000, 5800, and 4000 yr B.P. Conditions after 2700 yr B.P. were generally similar to those of today, but major droughts occurred ca. 1200–600 yr B.P. during Europe’s Medieval Warm Period.

Organic molecular markers determined in a sediment core (V95-1A-1P) from Lake Victoria (East Africa) were used to reconstruct the history of human impact and regional fire activity during the Early Iron Age (~2400 to ~1100 yr BP). Fire history was reconstructed using levoglucosan and polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons (PAHs) as markers for biomass burning that demonstrate two distinct fire periods peaking at 1450–1700 and 1850–2050 cal. yr BP. A partial correlation between levoglucosan and PAHs is interpreted as different transport behaviors and burn temperatures affecting the proxies. A fecal sterol index (CoP-Index) indicates the presence of humans near the lakeshore, where the CoP-Index lags a few centuries behind the fire peaks. The CoP-Index peaks between 1850 and1950 cal. yr BP and between 1400 and 1500 cal. yr BP. Retene, a PAH that indicates softwood combustion, differs from other PAHs and levoglucosan by abruptly increasing at ~1650 cal. yr BP and remaining high until 1200 cal. yr BP. This increase may potentially signal human activity in that the development of metallurgy and/or ceramic production requires highly efficient fuels. However, this increase in retene occurs at the same time as severe drought events centered at ~1500 and ~2000 yr BP where the droughts and associated woodland to grassland transition may have resulted in more intense fires. The grassland expansion could have created favorable conditions for human activities and triggered settlement growth that in turn may have created a positive feedback for further landscape opening.

Life history studies were carried out for populations of six species of Leptoceridae. Study sites were a permanent river (Acheron), a temporary river (Lerderderg) and a permanent lake (Monash University). Life histories varied in degree of synchrony of larval development, in length of adult emergence period, and from bi- to semivoltine. Oviposition requirements of adults were found to be the major factor influencing synchrony of the life history of one species. Life history features did not ameliorate the effects of the severe drought of 1982-83, nor did drought result in large changes in life histories.

AbstractThe North China Famine of 1876–1879 has received some attention recently, but little of this work has focused on the north-western province of Shaanxi. This imbalance is reflected in the local histories that devote far more space to the documentation and commemoration of the Hui rebellion than to the famine. This paper argues that the drought of those years and the ensuing famine is historically much more significant than this biased documentation would suggest, and that the rebellion can only be fully understood by paying attention to the environmental and social conditions in which it unfolded. Further, the paper engages with Mike Davis’s argument that portrays the famine in China as part of a ‘late-Victorian holocaust.’ While persuasive, his focus on outside forces is problematic as it ignores the history of the Qing Empire as an expanding force in itself and inadvertently reinforces the victimization narrative that dominates modern Chinese historiography.

Environmental history, as it has emerged in recent years, is most distinctive in the way it illustrates a serious engagement between the disciplines of ecology and history. This article begins with an exploration of the lineage and promise of environmental history, particularly in the Australian setting. It then analyses a number of the cultural debates about vegetation change in Australia—about clearing, open landscapes, scrub encroachment and burning practices—and draws attention to the way that morals, politics and aesthetics shaped environmental perception and still do. Clearing was the dominant discourse in the history of landscape change and a legislative requirement for secure settlement. At the same time, criticism of clearing and its effects represented an early conservationist sensibility, but the heroic pioneering labour of clearing, the political imperatives associated with it and the escalating ecological legacy it generated, have sometimes made us forget how open was much of the Australian landscape when Europeans first arrived. The morality of clearing—the arguments for and against—focused the minds of settlers on the trees and the loss of them, while the aesthetics of pastoralism attracted their eyes to the grasslands and made them rejoice in the curious legacy of 'open' landscapes. In the early nineteenth century, the most common usage of the word 'forest' was to describe land fit to graze: 'according to the local distinction, the grass is the discriminating character [of forest land] and not the Trees'. At the same time, pastoralists were unwilling to recognise the role of Aboriginal people in creating such open landscapes and this reticence to acknowledge the Aboriginality of the pastoral economy persists today. This in turn affected the way settlers perceived the new forests that appeared after European invasion. The fate of the vegetation Europeans found has understandably been so much the focus of science and history—its removal, replacement, utilisation, modification and conservation—that 'new forests' easily escape scholarly attention; and being new, they seem far less valuable and threatened. They have generally been perceived as a nuisance, as enclosing and encroaching, as 'scrub', as 'woody weeds'. The politics of understanding regrowth are related not only to the issues of clearing and density, but especially to the culture of burning in Aboriginal and settler society and its implications for management and biodiversity. If the coming together of ecology and history best defines the new 'environmental history', then the most illuminating confluences are those where each discipline helps the other to identify what constitutes a unique 'event', both ecologically and historically. The article therefore finishes with examples of events in two landscapes—the long drought of the 1890s in western New South Wales and the Black Friday bushfires of 1939 in the mountain ash forests of Victoria—to illustrate how each emerges as an intriguing artefact of nature and history, a cultural exaggeration of a natural rhythm. Even as we discover the ecological depth of each apparently 'natural' event, we are reminded of its historical specificity.

This research is the extension of a project studying the impact of 19th century severe weather events in Australia and their relation to similar events during the 20th and 21st century. Two floods with the worst known impacts in the Murray–Darling Basin (MDB) are studied. One of these events which occurred during 1956 is relativelywell known and the Bureau of Meteorology archives contain good rainfall data covering the period. Additionally, information on the weather systems causing this rainfall can be obtained. Rainfall, flood and weather system data for this event are presented here and compared with a devastating event during 1870. Although archived Australian rainfall data is negligible during 1870 and there is no record of weather systems affecting Australia during that year, a realistic history of the floods and weather systems in the MDB during 1870 is created. This follows an extensive search through newspaper archives contained in the National Library of Australia’s web site. Examples are presented showing how the meteorological data in 19th century newspapers can be used to create weather charts. Six such events in 1870 are demonstrated and three of these had a phenomenal effect on the Murray–Darling system. The 1870 floods followed drought type conditions and it is remarkable that it was worse in many ways than the 1956 event which followed flood conditions in the MDB during the previous year. The events in 1870 caused much loss of life from drowning in the MDB in particular froman east coast low (ECL) in April 1870 and two Victorian weather systems in September and October 1870. In 1956, there were also record-breaking events especially during March when all-time record monthly rainfall were reported in New South Wales. Overall the greatest impact from flooding across the whole MDB was associated with the 1870 flooding. Analyses of heavy rainfall areas in the MDB showed a linear trend increase from 1900 to 2018. Analysing the same data using an 8-year moving average highlighted three peaks around the five highest annual rainfall years. The largest peak occurred around 1950 and 1956, the second largest around 1973 and 1974 and the third around 2010. Each of these 5 years occurred during negative phases of the Interdecadal Pacific Oscillation (IPO) and positive phases of the Southern Oscillation Index (SOI). Studies have shown that the SOI is a climate driver in the MDB along with a persistent blocking high-pressure systems south of Australia along longitude 140°E with a low to its north. Three major blocking events with record rainfall and flooding in the MDB occurred in 1983, 1984 and 1990. Thiswas during the period 1977–1990 when blocking was conducive to heavy rain in the MDB and was coincidentwith a positive phase of the IPO, thus helping conflictwith the IPO–MDB heavy rainfall relationship. Persistent and unexplained middle level westerly winds kept subtropical Queensland clear of tropical cyclones during the negative phases of the IPO from 1999 to 2009 and during the 1960s, influencing low rainfall in the MDB during those periods.

About half way through Yann Arthus-Bertrand’s film Home (2009) the narrator describes the fall of the Rapa Nui, the indigenous people of the Easter Islands. The narrator posits that the Rapa Nui culture collapsed due to extensive environmental degradation brought about by large-scale deforestation. The Rapa Nui cut down their massive native forests to clear spaces for agriculture, to heat their dwellings, to build canoes and, most importantly, to move their enormous rock sculptures—the Moai. The disappearance of their forests led to island-wide soil erosion and the gradual disappearance of arable land. Caught in the vice of overpopulation but with rapidly dwindling basic resources and no trees to build canoes, they were trapped on the island and watched helplessly as their society fell into disarray. The sequence ends with the narrator’s biting remark: “The real mystery of the Easter Islands is not how its strange statues got there, we know now; it's why the Rapa Nui didn't react in time.” In their unrelenting desire for development, the Rapa Nui appear to have overlooked the role the environment plays in maintaining a society. The island’s Moai accompanying the sequence appear as memento mori, a lesson in the mortality of human cultures brought about by their own misguided and short-sighted practices. Arthus-Bertrand’s Home, a film composed almost entirely of aerial photographs, bears witness to present-day environmental degradation and climate change, constructing society as a fragile structure built upon and sustained by the environment. Home is a call to recognise how contemporary practices of post-industrial societies have come to shape the environment and how they may impact the habitability of Earth in the near future. Through reflexivity and a ritualised structure the text invites spectators to look at themselves in a new light and remake their self-image in the wake of global environmental risk by embracing new, alternative core practices based on balance and interconnectedness. Arthus-Bertrand frames climate change not as a burden, but as a moment of profound realisation of the potential for change and humans ability to create a desirable future through hope and our innate capacity for renewal. This article examines how Arthus-Bertrand’s ritualised construction of climate change aims to remake viewers’ perception of present-day environmental degradation and investigates Home’s place in contemporary climate change communication discourse. Climate change, in its capacity to affect us globally, is considered a world risk. The most recent peer-reviewed Synthesis Report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change suggests that the concentration of atmospheric greenhouse gases has increased markedly since human industrialisation in the 18th century. Moreover, human activities, such as fossil fuel burning and agricultural practices, are “very likely” responsible for the resulting increase in temperature rise (IPPC 37). The increased global temperatures and the subsequent changing weather patterns have a direct and profound impact on the physical and biological systems of our planet, including shrinking glaciers, melting permafrost, coastal erosion, and changes in species distribution and reproduction patterns (Rosenzweig et al. 353). Studies of global security assert that these physiological changes are expected to increase the likelihood of humanitarian disasters, food and water supply shortages, and competition for resources thus resulting in a destabilisation of global safety (Boston et al. 1–2). Human behaviour and dominant practices of modernity are now on a path to materially impact the future habitability of our home, Earth. In contemporary post-industrial societies, however, climate change remains an elusive, intangible threat. Here, the Arctic-bound species forced to adapt to milder climates or the inhabitants of low-lying Pacific islands seeking refuge in mainland cities are removed from the everyday experience of the controlled and regulated environments of homes, offices, and shopping malls. Diverse research into the mediated and mediatised nature of the environment suggests that rather than from first-hand experiences and observations, the majority of our knowledge concerning the environment now comes from its representation in the mass media (Hamilton 4; Stamm et al. 220; Cox 2). Consequently the threat of climate change is communicated and constructed through the news media, entertainment and lifestyle programming, and various documentaries and fiction films. It is therefore the construction (the representation of the risk in various discourses) that shapes people’s perception and experience of the phenomenon, and ultimately influences behaviour and instigates social response (Beck 213). By drawing on and negotiating society’s dominant discourses, environmental mediation defines spectators’ perceptions of the human-nature relationship and subsequently their roles and responsibilities in the face of environmental risks. Maxwell Boykoff asserts that contemporary modern society’s mediatised representations of environmental degradation and climate change depict the phenomena as external to society’s primary social and economic concerns (449). Julia Corbett argues that this is partly because environmental protection and sustainable behaviour are often at odds with the dominant social paradigms of consumerism, economic growth, and materialism (175). Similarly, Rowan Howard-Williams suggests that most media texts, especially news, do not emphasise the link between social practices, such as consumerist behaviour, and their environmental consequences because they contradict dominant social paradigms (41). The demands contemporary post-industrial societies make on the environment to sustain economic growth, consumer culture, and citizens’ comfortable lives in air-conditioned homes and offices are often left unarticulated. While the media coverage of environmental risks may indeed have contributed to “critical misperceptions, misleading debates, and divergent understandings” (Boykoff 450) climate change possesses innate characteristics that amplify its perception in present-day post-industrial societies as a distant and impersonal threat. Climate change is characterised by temporal and spatial de-localisation. The gradual increase in global temperature and its physical and biological consequences are much less prominent than seasonal changes and hence difficult to observe on human time-scales. Moreover, while research points to the increased probability of extreme climatic events such as droughts, wild fires, and changes in weather patterns (IPCC 48), they take place over a wide range of geographical locations and no single event can be ultimately said to be the result of climate change (Maibach and Roser-Renouf 145). In addition to these observational obstacles, political partisanship, vested interests in the current status quo, and general resistance to profound change all play a part in keeping us one step removed from the phenomenon of climate change. The distant and impersonal nature of climate change coupled with the “uncertainty over consequences, diverse and multiple engaged interests, conflicting knowledge claims, and high stakes” (Lorenzoni et al. 65) often result in repression, rejection, and denial, removing the individual’s responsibility to act. Research suggests that, due to its unique observational obstacles in contemporary post-industrial societies, climate change is considered a psychologically distant event (Pawlik 559), one that is not personally salient due to the “perceived distance and remoteness [...] from one’s everyday experience” (O’Neill and Nicholson-Cole 370). In an examination of the barriers to behaviour change in the face of psychologically distant events, Robert Gifford argues that changing individuals’ perceptions of the issue-domain is one of the challenges of countering environmental inertia—the lack of initiative for environmentally sustainable social action (5). To challenge the status quo a radically different construction of the environment and the human-nature relationship is required to transform our perception of global environmental risks and ultimately result in environmentally consequential social action. Yann Arthus-Bertrand’s Home is a ritualised construction of contemporary environmental degradation and climate change which takes spectators on a rite of passage to a newfound understanding of the human-nature relationship. Transformation through re-imagining individuals’ roles, responsibilities, and practices is an intrinsic quality of rituals. A ritual charts a subjects path from one state of consciousness to the next, resulting in a meaningful change of attitudes (Deflem 8). Through a lifelong study of African rituals British cultural ethnographer Victor Turner refined his concept of rituals in a modern social context. Turner observed that rituals conform to a three-phased processural form (The Ritual Process 13–14). First, in the separation stage, the subjects are selected and removed from their fixed position in the social structure. Second, they enter an in-between and ambiguous liminal stage, characterised by a “partial or complete separation of the subject from everyday existence” (Deflem 8). Finally, imbued with a new perspective of the outside world borne out of the experience of reflexivity, liminality, and a cathartic cleansing, subjects are reintegrated into the social reality in a new, stable state. The three distinct stages make the ritual an emotionally charged, highly personal experience that “demarcates the passage from one phase to another in the individual’s life-cycle” (Turner, “Symbols” 488) and actively shapes human attitudes and behaviour. Adhering to the three-staged processural form of the ritual, Arthus-Bertrand guides spectators towards a newfound understanding of their roles and responsibilities in creating a desirable future. In the first stage—the separation—aerial photography of Home alienates viewers from their anthropocentric perspectives of the outside world. This establishes Earth as a body, and unearths spectators’ guilt and shame in relation to contemporary world risks. Aerial photography strips landscapes of their conventional qualities of horizon, scale, and human reference. As fine art photographer Emmet Gowin observes, “when one really sees an awesome, vast place, our sense of wholeness is reorganised [...] and the body seems always to diminish” (qtd. in Reynolds 4). Confronted with a seemingly infinite sublime landscape from above, the spectator’s “body diminishes” as they witness Earth’s body gradually taking shape. Home’s rushing rivers of Indonesia are akin to blood flowing through the veins and the Siberian permafrost seems like the texture of skin in extreme close-up. Arthus-Bertrand establishes a geocentric embodiment to force spectators to perceive and experience the environmental degradation brought about by the dominant social practices of contemporary post-industrial modernity. The film-maker visualises the maltreatment of the environment through suggested abuse of the Earth’s body. Images of industrial agricultural practices in the United States appear to leave scratches and scars on the landscape, and as a ship crosses the Arctic ice sheets of the Northwest Passage the boat glides like the surgeon’s knife cutting through the uppermost layer of the skin. But the deep blue water that’s revealed in the wake of the craft suggests a flesh and body now devoid of life, a suffering Earth in the wake of global climatic change. Arthus-Bertrand’s images become the sublime evidence of human intervention in the environment and the reflection of present-day industrialisation materially altering the face of Earth. The film-maker exploits spectators’ geocentric perspective and sensibility to prompt reflexivity, provide revelations about the self, and unearth the forgotten shame and guilt in having inadvertently caused excessive environmental degradation. Following the sequences establishing Earth as the body of the text Arthus-Bertrand returns spectators to their everyday “natural” environment—the city. Having witnessed and endured the pain and suffering of Earth, spectators now gaze at the skyscrapers standing bold and tall in the cityscape with disillusionment. The pinnacles of modern urban development become symbols of arrogance and exploitation: structures forced upon the landscape. Moreover, the images of contemporary cityscapes in Home serve as triggers for ritual reflexivity, allowing the spectator to “perceive the self [...] as a distanced ‘other’ and hence achieve a partial ‘self-transcendence’” (Beck, Comments 491). Arthus-Bertrand’s aerial photographs of Los Angeles, New York, and Tokyo fold these distinct urban environments into one uniform fusion of glass, metal, and concrete devoid of life. The uniformity of these cultural landscapes prompts spectators to add the missing element: the human. Suddenly, the homes and offices of desolate cityscapes are populated by none other than us, looking at ourselves from a unique vantage point. The geocentric sensibility the film-maker invoked with the images of the suffering Earth now prompt a revelation about the self as spectators see their everyday urban environments in a new light. Their homes and offices become blemishes on the face of the Earth: its inhabitants, including the spectators themselves, complicit in the excessive mistreatment of the planet. The second stage of the ritual allows Arthus-Bertrand to challenge dominant social paradigms of present day post-industrial societies and introduce new, alternative moral directives to govern our habits and attitudes. Following the separation, ritual subjects enter an in-between, threshold stage, one unencumbered by the spatial, temporal, and social boundaries of everyday existence. Turner posits that a subjects passage through this liminal stage is necessary to attain psychic maturation and successful transition to a new, stable state at the end of the ritual (The Ritual Process 97). While this “betwixt and between” (Turner, The Ritual Process 95) state may be a fleeting moment of transition, it makes for a “lived experience [that] transforms human beings cognitively, emotionally, and morally.” (Horvath et al. 3) Through a change of perceptions liminality paves the way toward meaningful social action. Home places spectators in a state of liminality to contrast geocentric and anthropocentric views. Arthus-Bertrand contrasts natural and human-made environments in terms of diversity. The narrator’s description of the “miracle of life” is followed by images of trees seemingly defying gravity, snow-covered summits among mountain ranges, and a whale in the ocean. Grandeur and variety appear to be inherent qualities of biodiversity on Earth, qualities contrasted with images of the endless, uniform rectangular greenhouses of Almeria, Spain. This contrast emphasises the loss of variety in human achievements and the monotony mass-production brings to the landscape. With the image of a fire burning atop a factory chimney, Arthus-Bertrand critiques the change of pace and distortion of time inherent in anthropocentric views, and specifically in contemporary modernity. Here, the flames appear to instantly eat away at resources that have taken millions of years to form, bringing anthropocentric and geocentric temporality into sharp contrast. A sequence showing a night time metropolis underscores this distinction. The glittering cityscape is lit by hundreds of lights in skyscrapers in an effort, it appears, to mimic and surpass daylight and thus upturn the natural rhythm of life. As the narrator remarks, in our present-day environments, “days are now the pale reflections of nights.” Arthus-Bertrand also uses ritual liminality to mark the present as a transitory, threshold moment in human civilisation. The film-maker contrasts the spectre of our past with possible visions of the future to mark the moment of now as a time when humanity is on the threshold of two distinct states of mind. The narrator’s descriptions of contemporary post-industrial society’s reliance on non-renewable resources and lack of environmentally sustainable agricultural practices condemn the past and warn viewers of the consequences of continuing such practices into the future. Exploring the liminal present Arthus-Bertrand proposes distinctive futurescapes for humankind. On the one hand, the narrator’s description of California’s “concentration camp style cattle farming” suggests that humankind will live in a future that feeds from the past, falling back on frames of horrors and past mistakes. On the other hand, the example of Costa Rica, a nation that abolished its military and dedicated the budget to environmental conservation, is recognition of our ability to re-imagine our future in the face of global risk. Home introduces myths to imbue liminality with the alternative dominant social paradigm of ecology. By calling upon deep-seated structures myths “touch the heart of society’s emotional, spiritual and intellectual consciousness” (Killingsworth and Palmer 176) and help us understand and come to terms with complex social, economic, and scientific phenomena. With the capacity to “pattern thought, beliefs and practices,” (Maier 166) myths are ideal tools in communicating ritual liminality and challenging contemporary post-industrial society’s dominant social paradigms. The opening sequence of Home, where the crescent Earth is slowly revealed in the darkness of space, is an allusion to creation: the genesis myth. Accompanied only by a gentle hum our home emerges in brilliant blue, white, and green-brown encompassing most of the screen. It is as if darkness and chaos disintegrated and order, life, and the elements were created right before our eyes. Akin to the Earthrise image taken by the astronauts of Apollo 8, Home’s opening sequence underscores the notion that our home is a unique spot in the blackness of space and is defined and circumscribed by the elements. With the opening sequence Arthus-Bertrand wishes to impart the message of interdependence and reliance on elements—core concepts of ecology. Balance, another key theme in ecology, is introduced with an allusion to the Icarus myth in a sequence depicting Dubai. The story of Icarus’s fall from the sky after flying too close to the sun is a symbolic retelling of hubris—a violent pride and arrogance punishable by nemesis—destruction, which ultimately restores balance by forcing the individual back within the limits transgressed (Littleton 712). In Arthus-Bertrand’s portrayal of Dubai, the camera slowly tilts upwards on the Burj Khalifa tower, the tallest human-made structure ever built. The construction works on the tower explicitly frame humans against the bright blue sky in their attempt to reach ever further, transgressing their limitations much like the ill-fated Icarus. Arthus-Bertrand warns that contemporary modernity does not strive for balance or moderation, and with climate change we may have brought our nemesis upon ourselves. By suggesting new dominant paradigms and providing a critique of current maxims, Home’s retelling of myths ultimately sees spectators through to the final stage of the ritual. The last phase in the rite of passage “celebrates and commemorates transcendent powers,” (Deflem 8) marking subjects’ rebirth to a new status and distinctive perception of the outside world. It is at this stage that Arthus-Bertrand resolves the emotional distress uncovered in the separation phase. The film-maker uses humanity’s innate capacity for creation and renewal as a cathartic cleansing aimed at reconciling spectators’ guilt and shame in having inadvertently exacerbated global environmental degradation. Arthus-Bertrand identifies renewable resources as the key to redeeming technology, human intervention in the landscape, and finally humanity itself. Until now, the film-maker pictured modernity and technology, evidenced in his portrayal of Dubai, as synonymous with excess and disrespect for the interconnectedness and balance of elements on Earth. The final sequence shows a very different face of technology. Here, we see a mechanical sea-snake generating electricity by riding the waves off the coast of Scotland and solar panels turning towards the sun in the Sahara desert. Technology’s redemption is evidenced in its ability to imitate nature—a move towards geocentric consciousness (a lesson learned from the ritual’s liminal stage). Moreover, these human-made structures, unlike the skyscrapers earlier in the film, appear a lot less invasive in the landscape and speak of moderation and union with nature. With the above examples Arthus-Bertrand suggests that humanity can shed the greed that drove it to dig deeper and deeper into the Earth to acquire non-renewable resources such as oil and coal, what the narrator describes as “treasures buried deep.” The incorporation of principles of ecology, such as balance and interconnectedness, into humanity’s behaviour ushers in reconciliation and ritual cleansing in Home. Following the description of the move toward renewable resources, the narrator reveals that “worldwide four children out of five attend school, never has learning been given to so many human beings” marking education, innovation, and creativity as the true inexhaustible resources on Earth. Lastly, the description of Antarctica in Home is the essence of Arthus-Bertrand’s argument for our innate capacity to create, not simply exploit and destroy. Here, the narrator describes the continent as possessing “immense natural resources that no country can claim for itself, a natural reserve devoted to peace and science, a treaty signed by 49 nations has made it a treasure shared by all humanity.” Innovation appears to fuel humankind’s transcendence to a state where it is capable of compassion, unification, sharing, and finally creating treasures. With these examples Arthus-Bertrand suggests that humanity has an innate capacity for creative energy that awaits authentic expression and can turn humankind from destroyer to creator. In recent years various risk communication texts have explicitly addressed climate change, endeavouring to instigate environmentally consequential social action. Home breaks discursive ground among them through its ritualistic construction which seeks to transform spectators’ perception, and in turn roles and responsibilities, in the face of global environmental risks. Unlike recent climate change media texts such as An Inconvenient Truth (2006), The 11th Hour (2007), The Age of Stupid (2009), Carbon Nation (2010) and Earth: The Operator’s Manual (2011), Home eludes simple genre classification. On the threshold of photography and film, documentary and fiction, Arthus-Bertrand’s work is best classified as an advocacy film promoting public debate and engagement with a universal concern—the state of the environment. The film’s website, available in multiple languages, contains educational material, resources to organise public screenings, and a link to GoodPlanet.info: a website dedicated to environmentalism, including legal tools and initiatives to take action. The film-maker’s approach to using Home as a basis for education and raising awareness corresponds to Antonio Lopez’s critique of contemporary mass-media communications of global risks. Lopez rebukes traditional forms of mediatised communication that place emphasis on the imparting of knowledge and instead calls for a participatory, discussion-driven, organic media approach, akin to a communion or a ritual (106). Moreover, while texts often place a great emphasis on the messenger, for instance Al Gore in An Inconvenient Truth, Leonardo DiCaprio in The 11th Hour, or geologist Dr. Richard Alley in Earth: The Operator’s Manual, Home’s messenger remains unseen—the narrator is only identified at the very end of the film among the credits. The film-maker’s decision to forego a central human character helps dissociate the message from the personality of the messenger which aids in establishing and maintaining the geocentric sensibility of the text. Finally, the ritual’s invocation and cathartic cleansing of emotional distress enables Home to at once acknowledge our environmentally destructive past habits and point to a hopeful, environmentally sustainable future. While The Age of Stupid mostly focuses on humanity’s present and past failures to respond to an imminent environmental catastrophe, Carbon Nation, with the tagline “A climate change solutions movie that doesn’t even care if you believe in climate change,” only explores the potential future business opportunities in turning towards renewable resources and environmentally sustainable practices. The three-phased processural form of the ritual allows for a balance of backward and forward-looking, establishing the possibility of change and renewal in the face of world risk. The ritual is a transformative experience. As Turner states, rituals “interrupt the flow of social life and force a group to take cognizance of its behaviour in relation to its own values, and even question at times the value of those values” (“Dramatic Ritual” 82). Home, a ritualised media text, is an invitation to look at our world, its dominant social paradigms, and the key element within that world—ourselves—with new eyes. It makes explicit contemporary post-industrial society’s dependence on the environment, highlights our impact on Earth, and reveals our complicity in bringing about a contemporary world risk. The ritual structure and the self-reflexivity allow Arthus-Bertrand to transform climate change into a personally salient issue. This bestows upon the spectator the responsibility to act and to reconcile the spectre of the past with the vision of the future.Acknowledgments The author would like to thank Dr. Angi Buettner whose support, guidance, and supervision has been invaluable in preparing this article. 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This book charts the history of the water catchments and water supply for the city of Melbourne, which has many unique aspects that are a critical part of the history of Melbourne, Victoria and Australia. Much of the development of the water supply system was many decades ahead of its time and helped buffer the city of Melbourne from major diseases, droughts and water shortages. The authors present a chronology of the evolution of the catchment and water supply system pre-1900 to today. They discuss major developments, policies, and construction and management activities. Each chapter is illustrated with historical black and white images as well as newly taken photos that contrast present scenes with those from the past. Chapters also include many fascinating stories of life within the water catchments and working for the Melbourne and Metropolitan Board of Works. Finally, the book includes many extraordinary insights into current and future issues with Melbourne’s water supply, including issues associated with the highly controversial North-South Pipeline and the desalination plant.

Abstract The Mallee Climate Oral History Collection is the product of a four-year research partnership with Museum Victoria. From 2004 to 2007, a series of annual recordings were conducted on the experience of drought with people in wheat-belt communities dotted across the semiarid Mallee. The timing of the project during the millennium drought coincided with a momentous shift in Australian public awareness of climate change, prompting reflexive discussion of the meaning of drought. Interviewees wore several “hats” in life—farming to health work, public service to parenting, local business to education, government science to community advocacy for rural social and environmental sustainability. These stories bear the mark of rural endurance: as the drought wore on, just one interviewee left the Mallee; the rest were determined to continue making a living here, at the inland edge of the Australian cropping zone.

<em>Abstract</em>.—The Murray-Darling basin produces about 40% of the total value of Australia’s agricultural output from 1.9 million ha of irrigated agriculture that represents around 75% of the nation’s total irrigation. Major reservoirs in the southeastern states regulate the basin’s river systems for irrigation but also provide recreational fisheries. One of these storages is Lake Eppalock in the state of Victoria, a multi-use impoundment built in 1964 covering 3,230 ha and holding 312,000 ML at full supply level. It has been actively developed as a mixed species recreational fishery (golden perch <em>Macquaria ambigua </em>and Murray cod <em>Maccullochella peeli</em>) and is a popular angling water. The principal recreational target species in the lake compete with invasive pest species (common carp [also known as European carp] <em>Cyprinus carpio</em>). Drought is part of the natural variability of the Australian climate and its rainfall history features several periods of a decade or longer that have been distinctly drought-prone. Eastern Australia was in the eighth year of the latest drought cycle in 2007, and Lake Eppalock had fallen to less than 1% of its full supply level. These conditions highlighted increasing competition for water and brought into focus the interdependence and linkages between fisheries management and water needs, both for irrigation and for the environment. Fisheries managers faced a very strong likelihood of extensive fish deaths in the lake and elsewhere that could cause significant long-term impacts requiring many years to recover the recreational fishery. A planned partnership approach with the storage water authority was adopted in 2006 for integrated fisheries and water management, with response actions targeted to achieve storage conditions ensuring the maximum survivability of key recreational angling species in the lake through the drought. The framework for cooperation established in this study provides an example for future water allocation disputes.

This chapter explores the events leading to the collapse of the Zirid dynasty in 543H (1148–49) and the foundation of the Norman kingdom of Africa. Relations between the two dynasties largely stabilized after the Battle of al-Dimas, as the Zirids looked to expand their power in Ifriqiya and the Normans campaigned in southern Italy. The Normans were far more successful in their expeditions than the Zirids, who, having lost their Almoravid and local Arab allies, were forced to turn to the Normans for aid when Mahdia was besieged in 529H (1134–35). This Zirid–Norman victory proved pivotal in the history of the two dynasties, for it marked the beginning of a gradual ascent of Norman control over the affairs of coastal Ifriqiya. In the years after 529H (1134–35), Roger II and his admiral George of Antioch used Ifriqiya's exploitable dependence on Sicilian grain to their advantage. The Zirids, meanwhile, proved unable to muster sufficient support to assert their larger Mediterranean ambitions. This political fracturing was compounded by a nearly decade-long drought in Ifriqiya that brought hardship, emigration, and death to the Zirids and other local lords. These factors allowed the opportunistic Normans to conquer the littoral of Ifriqiya from Tripoli up to Tunis by 1148, thus forming the Norman kingdom of Africa.