Journal articles on the topic 'Electric power production Environmental aspects Victoria'

Increasing economic importance of the Arctic, further intensification of northern sea routes, and exceptional sensitivity of the arctic natural environment to anthropogenic impacts are fundamental factors for a comprehensive study of environmental aspects in the application of innovative technologies for the development of infrastructure in the Arctic. Despite the growing interest in low-power nuclear power plants as a distributed generation facility, their possible application in technologically isolated power systems does not lose relevance. The development of both the Arctic and Far Eastern regions of the Russian Federation presents great opportunities and demand for the use of nuclear power sources. Also, development programs for the Russian arctic zone imply a significant increase in the role and number of nuclear power facilities, in other words of potential radiation-hazardous facilities. Large-scale use of nuclear-powered installations in the Arctic necessitates advanced development of a scientifically grounded and modern forecasting system as well as assessments of threats and risks in case of possible radiation emergencies at nuclear- and radiation-hazardous facilities. Also, the development of proposals for necessary measures to minimize negative consequences of such emergencies is required. This is especially true for the case of compact placement of industrial, infrastructure and residential facilities in the Arctic in the immediate vicinity of nuclear facilities. The paper demonstrates that the demand for low-power nuclear power plants and their competitiveness will grow steadily in the conditions of electric-power industry decentralization, further spread of distributed generation and the development of technologically isolated power systems. Approaches to the generation of a low nuclear-power system based on the philosophy of industrialization of production and centralized management are presented. Special features of the environmental impact assessment of low-power nuclear power plants for the development of a methodology to study the radio-ecological hazard related problems are provided.

A deterministic quantitative model has been developed to compare the technical, economical and environmental feature of various electric power generating plants. The model, which is based on matrix operations, is used in evaluating the various aspects of energy sources available for electricity generation systems in a developing country. Several energy sources which could be considered for production of electricity to meet current and future electricity demands have been chosen. These will include fossil fuel fired, nuclear, and natural-renewable energy power plants. And, a set of criteria for optimized selection includes five area of concerns: energy economy, energy security, environmental protection, socio-economic development and technological aspects for the electric power generations. The model developed in this study is applied to the Indonesian’s electric power sector development. Most of the data required are obtained from various sources related to power industry in Indonesia, such as the electricity generating authority of Indonesia (Perusahaan Listrik Negara, PLN), Government of Indonesia, World Bank, Asian Development Bank, United Nations, and other sources, both in published and public domains. The result of this study will be a ranking of energy sources for Indonesia power generation systems based on the Euclidean composite distance of each alternative to the designated optimal source of energy.

The objective of this work is to make an overview of opportunities and issues related to the aeronautical application of solid oxide fuel cell hybrid systems. The great interest on fuel cells comes from their capacity of producing electric energy with high efficiency at low pollutant production. The application of these systems as full-time auxiliary power units is an interesting alternative in a future scenario, which is supposed to include a More Electric Aircraft and more restrictive environmental standards. A review of the technological aspects of this application is presented. The physical models found in literature were investigated and the results were compared and discussed.

Light electric vehicles (LEVs) facilitate a significant reduction in global warming potential (GWP) and other environmental impacts related to specific transport performance due to their lightweight construction. Low-voltage systems in the drive engine, an open vehicle design and online vehicle data processing allow LEVs to be repaired by independent workshops, thus enabling long vehicle use as well as conversion or retrofitting for periods of use beyond 20 years. LEVs are not yet very common in everyday life in Western Europe. In order to support the acceptance of muscle power-supported LEVs in the EU L7e registration class by users, the vehicle design and construction specifically address requirements in the areas of last-mile parcel delivery and other transport services, including passenger transport. Life cycle assessment was used to investigate two construction methods for LEVs, mixed construction and fibre composite construction, in terms of the production, service life phase and end of life. A vehicle configuration was developed which, in addition to resource-saving production and long-life operation, enables easy access for users and maintenance of the LEV for various purposes. The resource efficiency of light electric vehicles was proven with regard to the ecological aspects. The vehicle design shown here shows high potential for LEVs in the circular economy.

The quality of the environment as well as public health is convincingly coupled with the functioning of a power subsector. The power subsector plays a pivotal role in the sense that it emerges as the key cross-sectional element for the society’s functioning (production, services, healthcare, education and others). A modern society consists of infrastructure systems that are primarily dependent on continuous electricity supplies. Each and every element of the electric power infrastructure is unique, and thus, its malfunction can disrupt the functioning of an important part of the electric power infrastructure. In conjunction with ensuring the functioning of electric power infrastructure, our attention must be drawn to the resilience issue. As far as the resilience of electric power infrastructure is concerned, it can resist weather-related events ensuring there are no disruptions in continuous electricity supplies. First, in the introductory part, the article presents the legal framework in the Slovak Republic. Second, it describes the current state of the electric power infrastructure of Slovakia. Third, it handles the state of the level of security risk assessment. Later on, in the literature review, besides turning to the issue of resilience assessment, the authors focused on the area of resilience of power engineering. Furthermore, the article scrutinizes resilience assessment in Slovakia, and it briefly examines approaches towards natural threats. In addition, the article demonstrates several approaches towards flood resilience. Having used different methods, the primary concern is to devise a framework for resilience assessment. Therefore, the included case study examines aspects of the proposed framework for resilience assessment. In conclusion, our aim was, in most respects, to outline an innovative methodological framework for increasing the resilience of electricity infrastructure.

Biodiesel obtained from vegetable oils as an alternative fuel for diesel engine is becoming increasingly important. The biodiesel quality and yield are affected by the properties of the oil used. The properties of the oil vary from region to region depending on the nature of the soil in which oil crops are cultivated, agricultural practices, rainfall etc. In this study the raw oil from Jatropha Curcas seeds grown in the western Ghat section of South India was tested for its physiochemical properties to determine its suitability for biodiesel production. A bench scale, compact biodiesel processor was developed locally by the authors and biodiesel was produced from raw Jatropha Curcas oil using alkali based transesterification process. The physiochemical properties of the biodiesel produced meet the ASTM standards but the yield was comparatively low (80%v/v) because of the high free fatty acid content (13.7 mg KOH/g of oil) in the raw Jatropha Curcas oil. The brake thermal efficiency of the biodiesel produced as a fuel in a four stroke single cylinder diesel engine coupled with an electric generator (34.19%) at maximum load conditions shows the possibility of utilization of biodiesel produced as a fuel in the diesel engine.

Due to the environmental pollution threatening human life, clean water accessibility is one of the major global issues. In this context, in literature, there are many portable water disinfection systems utilizing ultraviolet (UV) radiation. UV water disinfection systems employ piezoelectric-based electric power along with UV light-emitting diode (LED) sources. This paper elaborates on the detailed design and parametric optimization of a portable UV disinfection system. The proposed system aims to generate piezoelectric harvesting-based electrical power simply by shaking, and the generated power is then used to supply UV-LEDs for water disinfection. To this end, overall system parameters along with a physical-mathematical model of mechanical, electrical and biochemical aspects of the system are fully developed. Moreover, the main design parameters of the developed model are derived for optimal operation of the system by employing Genetic Algorithm (GA). Finally, optimal design parameters were identified for three different cost scenarios. The model can further be improved for practical implementation and mass production of the system.

The introduction of stationary storage systems into the Italian electric network is necessary to accommodate the increasing share of energy from non-programmable renewable sources and to reach progressive decarbonization targets. In this framework, a life cycle assessment is a suitable tool to assess environmental impacts during the entire life cycle of stationary storage systems, i.e., their sustainability. A Li-ion battery (lithium–iron–phosphate (LFP), nickel–manganese–cobalt (NMC) 532, and NMC 622) entire life cycle assessment (LCA) based on primary and literature data was performed. The LCA results showed that energy consumption (predominantly during cell production), battery design (particularly binder choice), inventory accuracy, and data quality are key aspects that can strongly affect results. Regarding the battery construction phase, LFP batteries showed better performance than the NMC ones, but when the end-of-life (EoL) stage was included, NMC cell performance became very close to those of LFPs. Sensitivity and uncertainty analyses, done using the Monte Carlo methodology, confirmed that the results (except for the freshwater eutrophication indicator) were characterized by a low dispersion and that the energy mix choice, during the different battery life phases, was able to greatly influence the overall impact. The use of primary and updated data related to battery cell production, like those used in the present paper, was necessary to obtain reliable results, and the application to a European production line is an item of novelty of this paper.

Economic dispatch in the standard power system network frequently prioritizes instant economic gains while overlooking the detrimental environmental effects of gas discharges from thermal power stations. Economic emission dispatch (EED) has received a lot of consideration in current years as a way to alleviate this shortage. The unpredictability and intermittence of renewable energy sources like wind and solar power are raising the difficulty of electric grid planning as renewable production penetration rises. This research proposes a modified MMOCE to improve dispatch efficiency with considerable renewable energy consumption. A congestion calculation method and a new external storage process are added to the traditional kernel function method to address multi-objective optimization issues. The energy and transportation sectors are two of the most significant producers of GHG emissions. Improved vehicle productivity is a partial answer, but to limit the rate of GHG emissions, it is important to use RESs in the network. It is, however, critical to evaluate the efficacy of each approach. In this research, the environmental and economic aspects of employing RESs will be examined using a mixture of generating cost and GHG emissions from the two businesses stated. To overcome the ELD problem, an enhanced PSO is employed. However, solutions for reducing time consumption for the high-dimensional ELD issue are not considered in this study.

The major demand of energy in today’s world is fulfilled by the fossil fuels which are not renewable in nature and can no longer be used once exhausted. In the beginning of the 21st century, the limitation of the fossil fuels, continually growing energy demand, and growing impact of green-house gas emissions on the environment were identified as the major challenges with current energy infrastructure all over the world. The energy obtained from fossil fuel is cheap due to its established infrastructure; however, these possess serious issues, as mentioned above, and cause bad environmental impact. Therefore, renewable energy resources are looked to as contenders which may fulfil most energy requirements. Among them, hydrogen is considered as the most environmentally friendly fuel. Hydrogen is clean, sustainable fuel and it has promise as a future energy carrier. It also has the ability to substitute the present energy infrastructure which is based on fossil fuel. This is seen and projected as a solution for the above-mentioned problems including rise in global temperature and environmental degradation. Environmental and economic aspects are the important factors to be considered to establish hydrogen infrastructure. This article describes the various aspects of hydrogen including production, storage, and applications with a focus on fuel cell based electric vehicles. Their environmental as well as economic aspects are also discussed herein.

The purpose of this paper is to address an urgent operational issue referring to optimal power flow (OPF), which is associated with a number of technical and financial aspects relating to issues of environmental concern. In the last few decades, OPF has become one of the most significant issues in nonlinear optimization research. OPF generally improves the performance of electric power distribution, transmission, and production within the constraints of the control system. It is the purpose of an OPF to determine the most optimal way to run a power system. For the power system, OPFs can be created with a variety of financial and technical objectives. Based on these findings, this paper proposes the peafowl optimization algorithm (POA). A powerful meta-heuristic optimization algorithm inspired by collective foraging activities among peafowl swarms. By balancing local exploitation with worldwide exploration, the OPF is able to strike a balance between exploration and exploitation. In order to solve optimization problems involving OPF, using the standard IEEE 14-bus and 57-bus electrical network, a POA has been employed to find the optimal values of the control variables. Further, there are five study cases, namely, reducing fuel costs, real energy losses, voltage skew, fuel cost as well as reducing energy loss and voltage skew, and reducing fuel costs as well as reducing energy loss and voltage deviation, as well as reducing emissions costs. The use of these cases facilitates a fair and comprehensive evaluation of the superiority and effectiveness of POA in comparison with the coot optimization algorithm (COOT), golden jackal optimization algorithm (GJO), heap-based optimizer (HPO), leader slime mold algorithm (LSMA), reptile search algorithm (RSA), sand cat optimization algorithm (SCSO), and the skills optimization algorithm (SOA). Based on simulations, POA has been demonstrated to outperform its rivals, including COOT, GJO, HPO, LSMA, RSA, SCSO, and SOA. In addition, the results indicate that POA is capable of identifying the most appropriate worldwide solutions. It is also successfully investigating preferred search locations, ensuring a fast convergence speed and enhancing the search engine’s capabilities.

The chlor-alkali industries produce caustic soda (NaOH), chlorine (Cl2), and hydrogen (H2) as primary products. In 2021, the global chlor-alkali market was valued at $63.2 billion. The article evaluates the global aspects of chlor-alkali industries and prospects for Bangladesh. The current production capacity of NaOH from the chlor-alkali industries in Bangladesh is around 282,150 metric tons/year (MT/y). The by-products, chlorine (Cl2) of 250,470 MT/y and hydrogen (H2) of 7055 MT/y, are produced domestically. The local demand of Cl2 is 68,779 MT/y. However, there are no systematic utilizations of the residual Cl2 and vented H2, which threatens the sustainability of the chlor-alkali industries. The article prefigures that a 150,000 MT/y PVC plant can utilize 45.2 % of residual Cl2 of chlor-alkali plants, which would be an economical and environmental milestone for Bangladesh. The residual Cl2 can earn revenue of 908 million USD/y, which can be utilized to import ethylene. For the sustainable utilization of vented H2, production of H2O2, fuel cell electric vehicle (FCEV) and H2 fuel-cell-based power plant are the feasible solutions. Thus, for the long-term growth of the chlor-alkali industry in Bangladesh and other developing countries, systematic utilization of Cl2 and H2 is the only feasible solution.

The continuous expansion of the scale of power grid construction has led to the emergence and development of the uninterrupted operation of the unmanned aerial vehicle (UAV) distribution network. However, in the actual power production process, due to the limitations of operating conditions and environment, power safety accidents are inevitable. With the support of intelligent technology, the monitoring effect and application level of the safety monitoring system for the uninterrupted operation of the UAV distribution network have been improved. Unified planning and scheduling were carried out throughout the job implementation process. The efficiency of equipment safety management has been strengthened, which is of great practical significance to the safe production of electric power. Based on the analysis of the environmental characteristics and implementation difficulties of the unmanned aerial vehicle distribution network, this paper studied the safety monitoring system and method by combining the high intelligence and high-efficiency characteristics of the learning control robot technology. The designed unmanned aerial vehicle distribution network safety monitoring system and method were tested. In order to understand the effect of the system intuitively, this paper analyzed from three aspects: system sensitivity, anti-interference, and data acquisition and management. It also contrasted with traditional monitoring systems. The test data showed that the sensitivity test value of the traditional monitoring system in the R1 circuit with the lowest voltage intensity was 71.3%. In the R4 circuit with the strongest voltage intensity, the test value only reached 84.4%. The test values of the system in this paper in the two types of circuits were 85.6% and 93.3%, respectively. In the data acquisition and management test, the acquisition and management rates under the highest numerical information could reach more than 97%. It can be seen that it has strong feasibility in actual operation.

The relevance of the research topic is due to the study of the important problem of improving the energy efficiency of the economy and the meso and micro levels. In the conditions of the development of an innovative economy, energy saving becomes one of the main factors for increasing the economic efficiency and economic security of industrial enterprises and complexes. The article discusses the main aspects of the organization of energy-saving environmental production systems. The factors affecting the energy efficiency of the production process from the standpoint of logistics, including the processes of storage, storage and transportation of products within an industrial enterprise, are summarized. As a criterion of energy saving in logistics chains, the coefficient of consumption of energy resources spent per unit of production is given. The analysis of the dynamics of fuel and energy costs per unit of output by the types of activities of petrochemical plants of the Republic of Tatarstan was carried out. The specificity of the level of fuel and energy costs by type of activity is shown, depending on the specifics of production and products. The variation of energy consumption data by types of petrochemical production activities for 10 years has been calculated. The prospects for reducing the energy intensity of petrochemical enterprises in the context of the liberalization of the market of electric energy and power are considered. The materials of the study can be used in managing the development of the real sector of the economy, the service sector, both at the enterprise services level and in government structures. In addition, the proposed methodology is appropriate for assessing the level of resource-saving production, building innovative energy-saving development strategies, and developing a mechanism for targeted actions for the rational use of resources.

Climate control is of the foremost importance in structures for intensive animal rearing because many animals (e.g. pigs and broilers) tolerate a small range of climate conditions (mainly air temperature and relative humidity) that may differ considerably from the outdoor environment. For this reason, the indoor climate in the majority of structures for animal husbandry is guaranteed by HVAC systems. On the one hand, the use of mechanical systems makes it possible to avoid production risks due to the unpredictability of the outdoor weather conditions and to maximize the feed efficiency, with positive effects on both the animal welfare and farm profit. On the other hand, the use of HVAC entails not negligible thermal and electrical energy consumptions. In literature, few data about the real thermo-hygrometric conditions and energy consumption of animal houses are present. In this work (in the framework of the EPAnHaus – Energy Performance certification of Animal Houses –project), the results obtained from a long-term monitoring campaign in two growing-finishing pig houses are presented. The performed measurements concerned environmental parameters and electrical power that were acquired during two production cycles (warm and cool seasons). For the environmental monitoring, both the buildings were equipped with temperature and relative humidity sensors embedded in portable data loggers (10 minutes logging time) that were placed in various spots inside the houses. Outdoor data were obtained through a weather station located near the test site. Concerning the energy monitoring, power transducers connected to portable data loggers (10 seconds logging time) were placed in the electric panel of each house to log the electrical energy consumptions due to ventilation, lighting and automatic feeding. The acquired data were used for carrying out analysis concerning the indoor thermal environment, its characterization in relation with the animal welfare, the electrical energy uses and the existing relations between all these aspects. The obtained data were used to evaluate the effectiveness of the HVAC system in guaranteeing the adequate indoor climate conditions (avoiding heat/cold stress conditions) and to identify electrical energy uses.

Construction of dams for hydroelectric power requires significant quantities of soil and rock, which are often extracted in borrow pits from adjacent regions. Although the effects of dams on stream processes has received significant attention, the effects of borrow pits has not. The main objective of this study was to analyze the geomorphological and sedimentological aspects of two second-order streams, one of which was directly affected by the borrow pit located upstream of its source (Pedra Branca stream). Flow rates were measured and cross-sections of 600m stretches in both streams were monitored over a hydrological year. At the same time, sediments from the bed of the channels and soils on their banks had their physical and chemical characteristics evaluated. Streams sediments differed in their chemical and organic matter composition. The mean particle size of the sediment particles was different between the reference and degraded streams. The water flow was very similar to both streams, only varying along the seasonal seasons. However, the fluvial channels presented great geomorphological differentiation, mainly downstream, due to the location of the Pedra Branca stream and its proximity to the borrow pit. Despite the great importance for the production of clean electric energy, the construction of hydroelectric plants promotes persistent impacts that affect structural and functional aspects of the adjacent aquatic habitats. Borrow pits used for the construction of projects become large sources of sediment for aquatic environments, affecting the drainage network of the hydrographic basin and the balance of river erosion, transport and deposition processes. The results show the need to review the intervention protocols in borrow pits and the environmental legislation that regulates their rehabilitation.

AbstractBauxite, the raw material of aluminum, has been one of the economically vital natural resources for Suriname. Mining operations started about a century ago, and subsequent development of a refinery industry and hydro-electric power made Suriname one of the foremost bauxite and alumina producers worldwide for a long period of time. This paper presents a concise survey of the main geological attributes of its bauxite deposits and examines significant aspects in the development of mining in the country where alumina dominated the export revenues until a decade ago. The lateritic bauxite deposits are spread across the northern part of the country and developed on various parent rocks during Late Cretaceous–Early Tertiary times. Bauxites in the coastal lowlands formed on Cenozoic sedimentary deposits, whereas plateau bauxites originated on various crystalline rocks in inland regions of the Precambrian Guiana Shield. The composition of parent rocks and timing of bauxitisation point to a genetic correspondence with West African bauxites and a strong control of paleoclimatic conditions on the distribution and properties of bauxite in both regions. The more accessible bauxite deposits in the coastal lowlands are almost mined out, whereas the plateau bauxites have been extensively explored but have not been brought into production to date. For economic and environmental reasons, the future of the bauxite industry in Suriname is currently uncertain.

An overview dedicates to the directions of scientific research and achieved results in the field of electrochemistry, initiated by scientific institutions and in higher educational institutions of Kyiv. Academician O.V. Plotnikov is the forerunner of the world- known Kyiv School of Electrochemistry, formed in the last century's twenties: M.I. Usanovych, V.O. Izbekov, Ya.A. Fialkov, Yu.K. Delimarskyi, I.A. Sheka, and many other scientists known to the general scientific community. O.V. Plotnikov and his followers are one of the first to attempt to combine the most progressive theoretical provisions on electrolytic dissociation, the chemical theory of solutions, and the chemistry of complex compounds for that time. World achievements of the Kyiv School of Electrochemistry were provided by the results of such fundamental research as the chemical theory of solutions, acid-base interactions (Usanovich's theory), the structure of the electric double layer (the Yesin-Markov effect, the reduced Antropov scale of potentials), physical chemistry and electrochemistry of molten electrolytes, kine­tics electrode processes, electrometallurgy, electrochemical materials science, electrochemical power engineering. Representatives of our School significantly expanded the knowledge of mass transfer in electrochemical systems with molten electrolytes (the phenomenon of the transfer of metals from the anode to the cathode). New technological processes of obtaining and refining heavy non-ferrous metals (bismuth, lead, indium, etc.), finishing metal surfaces, extraction of radionuclides, electroplating technology, and environmental monitoring have been introduced into the practice of industrial production. Research in electrochemical materials science is closely connected to solving the problems of electrochemical energy, particularly, the creation of new sources of current, including solid-state, hydrogen generators, and converters of solar energy into electrical power. The studies of electrochemical aspects of the extraction of some refractory metals from natural raw materials, the creation of new materials with specified functional properties, catalysts, and electrocatalysts, the latest galvanic coatings, electrode and electrolyte materials for chemical current sources and supercapacitors, valuable inorganic compounds, metal and carbon nanophases, corrosion inhibitors are expanding the scientific direction of elect­rochemical materials science.

ResumoO artigo em evidência analisa o sistema de planejamento e resultados auferidos, à égide do interesse público, no âmbito das construções de usinas hidrelétricas no Brasil, na amostragem de Itaipu e Belo Monte e, cotejo com a realidade da hidrelétrica de Três Gargantas (China). Desta feita, a reflexão emerge na relação das vantagens, desvantagens e prejuízos socioambientais e econômicos. O problema se encontra na dissonância dos resultados concretos e status quo de vulnerabilidade socioambientais e econômicas. Em face das condições geológicas satisfatórias, o Brasil e a China investiram nas hidrelétricas como mecanismos de superação de energia elétrica, mitigando a crise energética e da aplicação dos combustíveis fósseis (na redução de emissão dos gases de efeito estufa – GEES). Desse modo, com base na realidade e resultados asiáticos, a China transcendeu os prejuízos socioambientais com um custo próximo aos valores da construção de Belo Monte, mas proporcionalmente como produção e vantagens agregadas distantes da temerária política brasileira, aflorando-se suspeição, demagogia e corrupção. Para tanto, emprega-se o método hipotético dedutivo, mas sobretudo pelo viés comparativo. Como objetivo geral, vislumbra-se o diagnóstico socioambiental pelo crivo da sustentabilidade (no comparativo das amostras em investimentos econômicos, nível de eficiência do planejamento, danos ambientais e índices de produção). Diante da conjuntura, infere-se como objetivos específicos, reflexões sobre a governança, o balizamento dos danos socioambientais e os resultados produtivos e econômicos, além da proposição de sugestões mitigadoras alternativas, a exemplo das catástrofes e contaminação por metais pesados, dos rios Paraopeba e Doce, em Minas Gerais, pelo rompimento de barragens de rejeitos de mineração, em que se viabiliza a construção de novas hidrelétricas, reduzindo e dosando a diluição lenta e gradativa dos poluentes, além de outras medidas como o aproveitamento desse rejeito em artefatos da construção civil.Palavras-chave: Hidrelétricas de Itaipu e Belo Monte; Usina de Três Gargantas; Aspectos socioambientais e econômicos.AbstractThis article analyzes the planning system and the results obtained, under the aegis of the public interest, in the context of the construction of hydroelectric plants in Brazil, in the sampling of Itaipu and Belo Monte, and comparison with the reality of the Três Gorges dam (China). This time, the reflection emerges in the relation of the advantages, disadvantages and socio-environmental and economic damages. The problem lies in the dissonance of concrete results and the status quo of socioenvironmental and economic vulnerability. In the face of satisfactory geological conditions, Brazil and China have invested in hydroelectric dams as mechanisms for overcoming electric energy, mitigating the energy crisis and the application of fossil fuels (in reducing greenhouse gas emissions - GEES). However, based on the reality and results of China, with results that transcend socio- environmental damage, with a cost close to the values of Belo Monte's construction, but proportionally as production and aggregate advantages are distant from the Brazilian political proposition, emerging suspicion, demagogy and corruption. For this, the hypothetical deductive method is employed, but above all comparative. As a general objective, the socio-environmental diagnosis is seen through the sieve of sustainability (is to compare the samples in economic investments, level of planning efficiency, social and environmental losses and production rates). Given the conjuncture, as specific objectives, reflections on governance, the marking of socioenvironmental damage and the productive and economic results, and the proposition of alternative mitigating suggestions, such as catastrophes and contamination by heavy metals, of the Paraopeba and Doce rivers, in Minas Gerais, due to the disruption of mining tailings dams, where the construction of new hydroelectric dams is feasible, reducing and dosing the slow and gradual dilution of pollutants, as well as other measures such as the use of this waste in construction artifacts.Keywords: Itaipu and Belo Monte hydroelectric plants; Three Gorges power plant; Socio- environmental and economic aspects.

Electrical energy planning of modern electric power system requires great attention for the air pollution problem. This is in accordance to the increasing tendency to optimise the production processes in the respect of their sustainability. Moreover, the advent of the deregulation in the electric energy market has involved substantial modifications of philosophy in planning and managing the electrical power system. These aspects together offer new challenge in defining proper system study methodologies and suitable planning strategies. One of the most complex problems in the planning strategies is the data management uncertainty related to load forecasting and environmental modelling. In this paper a robust optimal planning procedure is formalized, taking adequately into account the problem of stochastic variables presence, allowing to satisfy the air quality and load demand forecast constraints in spite of uncertainties. The proposed approach addresses generation planning, where the various aspects have been integrated to solve the problem in a feasible and realistic way. A numerical application to an electrical power system with respect to a regional area is reported in the final part of the paper, showing the applicability of the proposed methodology.

AbstractReducing greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions in the transport sector is one of the biggest challenges in the German energy transition. Furthermore, sustainable development does not stop with reducing GHG emissions. Other environmental, social and economic aspects should not be neglected. Thus, here a comprehensive sustainability assessment for passenger vehicles is conducted for 2020 and 2050. The discussed options are an internal combustion engine vehicle (ICEV) fuelled with synthetic biofuel and fossil gasoline, a battery electric vehicle (BEV) with electricity from wind power and electricity mix Germany and a fuel cell electric vehicle (FCEV) with hydrogen from wind power. The life cycle-based assessment entails 13 environmental indicators, one economic and one social indicator. For integrated consideration of the different indicators, the MCDA method Technique for Order Preference by Similarity to Ideal Solution (TOPSIS) is chosen. For the assessment, a consistent assessment framework, i.e. background scenario and system boundaries, and a detailed modelling of vehicle production, fuel supply and vehicle use are the cornerstones. The BEV with wind power is the most sustainable option in 2020 as well as in 2050. While in 2020, the second rank is taken by the ICEV with synthetic biofuel from straw and the last rank by the FCEV, in 2050 the FCEV is the runner-up. With the help of MCDA, transparent and structured guidance for decision makers in terms of sustainability assessment of motorized transport options is provided. Graphical abstract

The paper is devoted to analysis of functional peculiarities of thermal power plants in Ukraine. In the course of the study, key determinants of the sustainable development of domestic electricity generation were identified in the context of transition to a new market model. The preconditions of activation and support of the sustainable development concept implementation process in the modern business practice of the energy sector enterprises within the Ukrainian economy are outlined. The theoretical and practical bases for ensuring the sustainable development of energy in relation to other United Nations Declarations of Sustainable Development are indicated. The comparative estimation of the efficiency level of state policy in scope of energy independence and resource conservation with the use of a complex indicator of GDP energy intensity is given. On the basis of international and domestic statistical data the dynamics of volumes of electricity production in Ukraine for the period of 1990-2017 as well as the structure of electricity generation by type of generation were analyzed. The dynamics of electric power generation in Ukraine by types of raw materials was presented in complex with the dynamics of coal consumption and production for the corresponding period. The peculiarities of thermal power plants functioning in comparison with other power generating enterprises in modern conditions are specified. The key element of Ukraine’s energy independence – the volume of proven coal reserves – is a prerequisite for the efficient functioning of domestic thermal power plants. The pricing features in the sphere of electricity production and sales are outlined, in particular, the structure of market rate and the price of electricity sales by producers to the Wholesale Market are presented. The significance of the innovation factor in the process of improving the efficiency of thermal power plants functioning has been substantiated, taking into account the economic, social and environmental aspects of their production and economic activity.

IntroductionThe popularity of social networking sites (SNSs) bears witness to thriving movement protests worldwide. The development of new hardware technologies such as mobile devices and digital cameras, in particular, has fast enhanced visual communications among users that help document and broadcast contemporary social movements. Using social media with these technologies thus presents new opportunities for grassroots social movement organisations (SMOs) and activist groups to become narrators of their activist lives, and to promote solidarity and recognition for advancing varied civic and political agendas. With the case of a student activist group that led and organised a 10-day occupation protest in Hong Kong, this article examines the idea of new media-savvy SMOs as political curators that employ SNS platforms to (co-)create digital narratives at large-scale movement protests. Invoking the concepts of curation and choreography, it highlights how these processes can work together to encourage contentious engagement and collaboration in contemporary social movements.The New Media-Savvy SMO as Political CuratorWhereas traditional social movement studies stressed the importance of pre-existing social networks and organisational structures for collective action, developments in new information and communication technologies (ICTs) challenge the common theories of how people are drawn into and participate in social movements. In recent years, a spate of research has particularly emphasised the ability of individuals and small groups to self-organise on the Internet (e.g. Rheingold). Lately, observing the use of SNSs such as Facebook and Twitter in contemporary social movements, work in this area has focused on how SNSs enable movement diffusion through personal networks and individuals’ online activities even without either the aid or the oversight of an organisation (e.g. Shirky).However, horizontal activism self-organised by atomised new media users seems insufficient as an explanation of how many recent protest movements achieved their high tides. While the flourishing literature shows writers have correctly centred their study on the changing dynamics in control over information and the growing importance of individual users’ contributions, it fails to account for the crucial role that SMOs continue to play. In fact, recent studies consistently observe the continuing importance of SMOs in mobilising and coordinating collective actions in online environments (Bimber, Flanagin, and Stohl, Collective). Whereas new ICTs have provided activist groups with the instrument to deal with their contentious activities with less cueing and leadership from conventional institutionalised structures, SMOs have created their own new media resources. Nowadays, a significant percentage of protest participants have received their information from online platforms that are run by or affiliated with these organisations. The critical questions remain about the kinds of communication methods they utilise to activate and integrate independent activists’ networks and participation, especially in emerging social media environments.Unfortunately, existing research tends to overlook the discursive potentials and cultural dimensions in online activism while emphasising the cost-effectiveness and organisational function of new ICTs. In particular, social movement and new media scholars merely attended to the ways in which digital media enable widescale, relatively un-coordinated contributions to repositories of resources for networks of activists and interest groups, as SNS applications stress the importance of user participation, openness, and network effects in the processes of content production and sharing. However, the mere existence or even “surplus” (Shirky 27) of “second-order communal goods” (Bimber, Flanagin, and Stohl, “Reconceptualizing” 372)—a collection of resources created collectively but without a bounded community, through video-posting, tagging, and circulation practices engaged in by individuals—does not accidentally result in critical publics that come to take part in political activism. Rather, social movements are, above all, the space for manifesting ideas, choices, and a collective will, in which people produce their own history through their cultural creations and social struggles (Touraine). As such, the alteration of meaning, the struggle to define the situation, and the discursive practices carried out within a social movement are all major aspects of social movements and change (Melucci).Indeed, SMOs and marginalised communities worldwide have increasingly learnt the ability to become narrators of their activist and community lives, and to express solidarity and recognition afforded through technology adoption. The recent proliferation of social media applications and mobile digital technologies has allowed activist groups to create and distribute their own stories regarding concrete actions, ongoing campaigns, and thematic issues of protest movements on more multimedia platforms. In order to advance political ideas and collective action frames, they may bring together a variety of online content in such a way that the collated materials offer a commentary on a subject area by articulating and negotiating new media artefacts, while also inviting responses. Therefore, not only are the new media channels for activist communication comparatively inexpensive, but they also provide for a richer array of content and the possibility of greater control by SMOs over its (re-)creation, maintenance, and distribution for potential digital narrating. To understand how digital narrating takes place in contemporary protest movements with SNSs, we now turn to two analytic concepts—curation and choreography.Social Media Content Curation and Choreography Curation, as a new media practice, involves finding, categorising, and organising relevant online content on specific issues. For instance, museums and libraries may have curators to select and feature digital items for collection and display, improving the types of information accessible to a public audience. In protest movements, SMOs and political actors may also curate peer-produced content on SNS platforms so as to filter and amplify useful information for mobilising collective action. In fact, this process by SMOs and political actors is particularly important, as it helps sort and draw timely attention to these information sources, especially at times when users are faced with a large amount of noise created by millions of producers (Bennett, Segerberg, and Walker). More importantly, not only does content curating entail the selection and preservation of online materials that may facilitate collective action, but it may also involve the (re-)presentation of selected content by telling stories not being told or by telling existing stories in a different way (Fotopoulou and Couldry). In contrast to professional collecting, it is a much more deliberate process, one which clearly articulates and puts forwards (opportunities for) new meanings or new understanding of a subject (Franks). For example, when new media content is re-posted or shared in its original form but in a new context, digital narrating occurs as it may result in a new or additional layer of meaning (Baym and Shah). Therefore, more than merely expending information resources available to activists, the power of curation can be understood primarily as discursive, as users may pick up particular versions of reality in interpreting social issues and protest movements (Bekkers, Moody, and Edwards).Moreover, nowadays, social media curating is not restricted to text but also includes image and video streaming, as the development of mobile devices and digital cameras has facilitated and enhanced instant communication and information retrieval almost regardless of location. The practice of content curating with SNSs may also involve the process of choreographing with various social media modules, such as posting a series of edited pictures under an overarching schema and organising user-generated photos into an album that suggests a particular theme. Rather than simply using a single visual item designed to tell a story, the idea of choreographing is thus concerned with how curated items are seen and experienced from the users’ perspectives as it “allows curators not just to expose elements of a story but to tell a structured tale with the traditional elements of beginning, middle and end” (Franks 288).In practice, the implementation of choreography can be envisioned to bring together the practice of content curating and that of enhancing and connecting contentious engagement at protest movements. For example, when SMOs make use of images and video to help frame an issue in a more advanced way by sharing a picture with a comment added on Facebook, they may at once, whether consciously or unconsciously, suggest possible endorsement to the selected content and/or the source—may it be that of an individual user or a formal organisation—while drawing attention to the image and circulating it beyond the original network for which it was posted (Bennett, Segerberg, and Walker). As such, by posting pictures with captions and sharing user-generated photos that do not belong to the SMO but are produced by other users, curating and choreographing with social media content can create a temporary space for practicing mutual recognition and extending the relationship between the SMO and the larger public. Combined, they may therefore “entail the creation of norms and boundaries in particular user communities and their platforms” (Bennett, Segerberg, and Walker 239).This article examines the ways in which a new media-savvy SMO employed SNS platforms to (co-)create digital narratives, with the case of the 2012 Anti-National Education Movement in Hong Kong. By highlighting how social media content curating and choreographing may work together to encourage engagement and collaboration at large-scale protests, we can better understand how emerging SNS-enabled affordances can be translated into concrete contentious activities, as well as the discursive aspects and cultural expressions of using new media platforms and digital technologies in contemporary protest movements.Digital Narrating for Grassroots Mobilisation Since 2010, the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region government has undertaken “national education” curriculum reform. However, the worry about mainland-Chinese style national education in schools brought people out to defend values that were held dear in Hong Kong. Scholarism, a new media-savvy SMO founded by about 20 secondary school students in May 2011, became the first pressure group formed against the “Moral and National Education” curriculum and became the leading activist group. On 30 August 2012, about 50 members and supporters of Scholarism started occupying the public area in front of the government’s headquarters, while three of its members went on a hunger strike. At the same time, Scholarism made active use of Facebook to undertake grassroots mobilisation, prompting both online activism and offline participation. On 7 September, over 120,000 people went to Occupy Headquarters. The next day, the Chief Executive, C. Y. Leung, succumbed to the pressure and declared that the curriculum would not be imposed in Hong Kong schools. In order to initiate a grassroots mobilisation, upon the beginning of Occupy Headquarters, Scholarism carried out the new media practice of telling the story of the student hunger strikers on Facebook to create a “moral shock” (Jasper 106) among the general public. On the first day of the occupation protest, 30 August, a poster on the hunger strike was released by Scholarism on its Facebook page. Instead of providing detailed information about the protest movement, this poster was characterised by the pictures of the three student hunger strikers. The headline message simply stated “We have started the hunger strike.” This poster was very popular among Facebook users; it accumulated more than 16,000 likes.By appealing to the hardships and sufferings of the three student hunger strikers, more photos were uploaded to narrate the course of the hunger strike and the occupation protest. In particular, pictures with captions added were posted on Facebook every couple of hours to report on the student hunger strikers’ latest situation. Although the mobilising power of these edited pictures did not come from their political ideology or rational argumentation, they sought to appeal to the “martyr-hood” of the student activists. Soon thereafter, as the social media updates of the student hunger strikers spread, feelings of shock and anger grew rapidly. Most of the comments that were posted under the updates and photos of the student hunger strikers on Scholarism’s Facebook page protested against the government’s brutality.In addition, as the movement grew, Scholarism extended the self-reporting activities on Facebook from members to non-members. For instance, it frequently (self-)reported on the amount of people joining the movement days and nights. This was especially so on 7 September, when Scholarism uploaded multiple photos and text messages to report on the physical movement of the 120,000 people. As a movement strategy, the display of images of protests and rallies on the Internet can help demonstrate the legitimacy, unity, numbers, and commitment of people supporting the movement goals (Carty and Onyett). Curating and choreographing with protest images on Facebook therefore facilitated the symbolic interactions and emotional exchanges among activists for maintaining movement solidarity and consolidating activist identity.To demonstrate the public support for its organisation and the movement, Scholarism extensively reported on its own, as well as other, protest activities and efforts on Facebook against the introduction of the “Moral and National Education” curriculum, creating unprecedented parallel public records of these events. In fact, throughout the entire movement protest, Scholarism took tight photo records of protest activities, systematically organised them into albums, and uploaded them onto Facebook every day between 30 August and 8 September.Content Co-Creation for Counter-Hegemonic ExpressionsFrom a (neo-)Gramscian perspective, counter-hegemony is often embedded and embodied in music, novels, drama, movies, and so on (Boggs). An example of counter-hegemony in the traditional media is a documentary that questions the government’s involvement in a war (Cohen). Therefore, popular culture in the media may help foster counter-hegemony on the terrain of civil society in preparation for political change (Pratt). For Chinese communities in East Asia, pop music, for example, had played a significant role in organising patriotic feelings in mass protest events, such as the Tiananmen demonstrations of 1989 and the many subsequent protests in Hong Kong, Taiwan, and elsewhere against the violence of the Beijing government (Chow 153). During the occupation protest, Facebook was turned into an open and flexible discursive space, in which cutting-edge counter-hegemonic narratives were produced, distributed, and expressed. Scholarism and many individual activists adopted the social media platform to (co-)create activists’ discourses and knowledge in order to challenge the dominant political and cultural codes (Melucci). An example is a poster created by Scholarism, posted on its Facebook page on 4 September. The title message of this poster is: “This is not the government headquarters. This is our CIVIC SQUARE. Come and occupy!” This message represents a discursive intervention that seeks to “illuminate the limits of normative discourses of knowledge and power” (Lane 138). It did so by replacing the original, official name and meaning of the government headquarters as well as its authority with the counter-hegemonic idea of “civic square,” a term developed and coined by Scholarism during the occupation protest to represent the public space in front of the headquarters.Moreover, the Facebook page of Scholarism was by no means the only source of content out of which counter-hegemonic knowledge and discourses were produced. Conversely, most of the new media artefacts observed on the Facebook page of Scholarism were originally created by and posted on, and therefore re-posted and shared from, the Facebook pages of other individual or group users. They are in forms of text, picture, video, and the like that sought to undermine the legitimacy of the Hong Kong government, ridicule the rationale of the “Moral and National Education” curriculum, and discredit figures in the opposition.An example is a cartoon made by an individual user and re-posted on the Facebook page of Scholarism on 2 September, the day before schools restarted in Hong Kong after the summer break. This cartoon features a schoolboy in his school uniform, who is going to school with a bunch of identical locks tied to his head. The title message is: “School begins, keep your brain safe.” This cartoon was created to ridicule the rationale of the introduction of the “Moral and National Education” by “making visible the underlying and hidden relations of power on which the smooth operation of government repression depends” (Lane 136).Another new media artefact re-posted on the Facebook page of Scholarism was originally created by a well-known Hong Kong cartoon painter of a major local newspaper. This cartoon sought to humanise the student activists and to condemn the brutality of the Hong Kong government. It paints an imagined situation in which a public conversation between the Secretary for Education, Hak-kim Eddie Ng, and the three students on the hunger strike takes place. In this cartoon, Ng is cast as the wholesaler of the “Moral and National Education” curriculum. Holding a bottle of liquid in his hand, he says to the students: “This is the tears of the chief executive from last night. Kids, should you all go home now?”Thus, counter-hegemonic expressions did not flow unidirectionally from Scholarism to the society at large. The special role of Scholarism was indeed to curate and choreograph new media artefacts by employing social media modules such as re-posting and sharing user-generated content. In so doing, it facilitated the mobilisation of the occupation protest and instant collaboration, as it connected scattered activities, turned them into a collective, and branded it with a common identity, conviction, and/or purpose.ConclusionThis article has briefly looked at the case of a new media-savvy SMO in Hong Kong as an example of how activist groups can become political curators at large-scale protest events. In particular, it highlights the concepts of curation and choreography in explaining how emerging SNS-enabled affordances can be translated into concrete contentious activities. This article argues that, rather than simply producing and disseminating content on SNS platforms, SMOs today have learnt to actively construct stories about protest movements with social media modules such as (re-)posting edited pictures and sharing user-generated photos in order to mobilise effective political interventions and sustain a vibrant participatory culture.ReferencesBaym, Geoffrey, and Chirag Shah. “Circulating Struggle: The On-Line Flow of Environmental Advocacy Clips from the Daily Show and the Colbert Report.” Information Communication & Society 14.7 (2011): 1017–38. Bekkers, Victor, Rebecca Moody, and Arthur Edwards. “Micro-Mobilization, Social Media and Coping Strategies: Some Dutch Experiences.” Policy and Internet 3.4 (2011): 1–29. Bennett, W. Lance, Alexandra Segerberg, and Shawn Walker. “Organization in the Crowd: Peer Production in Large-Scale Networked Protests.” Information, Communication & Society 17.2 (2014): 232–60. Bimber, Bruce, Andrew J. 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There is a moment in Al Gore’s 2006 documentary An Inconvenient Truth devised to expose the sheer audacity of fossil fuel lobby groups in the United States. In their attempts to address significant scientific consensus and growing public concern over climate change, these groups are resorting to what Gore’s film suggests are grotesque distortions of fact. A particular example highlighted in the film is the Competitive Enterprise Institute’s (CPE—a lobby group funded by ExxonMobil) “pro” energy industry advertisement: “Carbon dioxide”, the ad states. “They call it pollution, we call it life.” While on the one hand employing rhetoric against the “inconvenient truth” that carbon dioxide emissions are ratcheting up the Earth’s temperature, these advertisements also pose a question – though perhaps unintended – that is worth addressing. Where does life reside? This is not an issue of essentialism, but relates to the claims, materials and technologies through which life as a political object emerges. The danger of entertaining the vested interests of polluting industry in a discussion of climate change and its biopolitics is countered by an imperative to acknowledge the ways in which multiple positions in the climate change debate invoke and appeal to ‘life’ as the bottom line, or inviolable interest, of their political, social or economic work. In doing so, other questions come to the fore that a politics of climate change framed in terms of moral positions or competing values will tend to overlook. These questions concern the manifold practices of life that constitute the contemporary terrain of the political, and the actors and instruments put in this employ. Who speaks for life? And who or what produces it? Climate change as a matter of concern (Latour) has gathered and generated a host of experts, communities, narratives and technical devices all invested in the administration of life. It is, as Malcom Bull argues, “the paradigmatic issue of the new politics,” a politics which “draws people towards the public realm and makes life itself subject to the caprices of state and market” (2). This paper seeks to highlight the politics of life that have emerged around climate change as a public issue. It will argue that these politics appear in incremental and multiple ways that situate an array of actors and interests as active in both contesting and generating the terms of life: what life is and how we come to know it. This way of thinking about climate change debates opposes a prevalent moralistic framework that reads the practices and discourses of debate in terms of oppositional positions alone. While sympathies may flow in varying directions, especially when it comes to such a highly charged and massively consequential issue as climate change, there is little insight to be had from charging the CPE (for example) with manipulating consumers, or misrepresenting well-known facts. Where new and more productive understandings open up is in relation to the fields through which these gathering actors play out their claims to the project of life. These fields, from the state, to the corporation, to the domestic sphere, reveal a complex network of strategies and devices that seek to secure life in constantly renovated terms. Life Politics Biopolitical scholarship in the wake of Foucault has challenged life as a pre-given uncritical category, and sought to highlight the means through which it is put under question and constituted through varying and composing assemblages of practitioners and practices. Such work regards the project of human well-being as highly complex and technical, and has undertaken to document this empirically through close attention to the everyday ecologies in which humans are enmeshed. This is a political and theoretical project in itself, situating political processes in micro, as well as macro, registers, including daily life as a site of (self) management and governance. Rabinow and Rose refer to biopolitical circuits that draw together and inter-relate the multiple sites and scales operative in the administration of life. These involve not just technologies, rationalities and regimes of authority and control, but also politics “from below” in the form of rights claims and community formation and agitation (198). Active in these circuits, too, are corporate and non-state interests for whom the pursuit of maximising life’s qualities and capabilities has become a concern through which “market relations and shareholder value” are negotiated (Rabinow and Rose 211). As many biopolitical scholars argue, biopower—the strategies through which biopolitics are enacted—is characteristic of the “disciplinary neo-liberalism” that has come to define the modern state, and through which the conduct of conduct is practiced (Di Muzio 305). Foucault’s concept of governmentality describes the devolution of state-based disciplinarity and sovereignty to a host of non-state actors, rationalities and strategies of governing, including the self-managing subject, not in opposition to the state, but contributing to its form. According to Bratich, Packer and McCarthy, everyday life is thus “saturated with governmental techniques” (18) in which we are all enrolled. Unlike regimes of biopolitics identified with what Agamben terms “thanopolitics”—the exercise of biopower “which ultimately rests on the power of some to threaten the death of others” (Rabinow and Rose 198), such as the Nazi’s National Socialism and other eugenic campaigns—governmental arts in the service of “vitalist” biopolitics (Rose 1) are increasingly diffused amongst all those with an “interest” in sustaining life, from organisations to individuals. The integration of techniques of self-governance which ask the individual to work on themselves and their own dispositions with State functions has broadened the base by which life is governed, and foregrounded an unsettled terrain of life claims. Rose argues that medical science is at the forefront of these contemporary biopolitics, and to this effect “has […] been fully engaged in the ethical questions of how we should live—of what kinds of creatures we are, of the kinds of obligations that we have to ourselves and to others, of the kinds of techniques we can and should use to improve ourselves” (20). Asking individuals to self-identify through their medical histories and bodily specificities, medical cultures are also shaping new political arrangements, as communities connected by shared genetics or physical conditions, for instance, emerge, evolve and agitate according to the latest medical knowledge. Yet it is not just medicine that provokes ethical work and new political forms. The environment is a key site for life politics that entails a multi-faceted discourse of obligations and entitlements, across fields and scales of engagement. Calculating Environments In line with neo-liberal logic, environmental discourse concerned with ameliorating climate change has increasingly focused upon the individual as an agent of self-monitoring, to both facilitate government agendas at a distance, and to “self-fashion” in the mode of the autonomous subject, securing against external risks (Ong 501). Climate change is commonly represented as such a risk, to both human and non-human life. A recent letter published by the Royal Australasian College of Physicians in two leading British medical journals, named climate change as the “biggest global health threat of the twenty-first century” (Morton). As I have argued elsewhere (Potter), security is central to dominant cultures of environmental governance in the West; these cultures tie sustainability goals to various and interrelated regimes of monitoring which attach to concepts of what Clark and Stevenson call “the good ecological citizen” (238). Citizenship is thus practiced through strategies of governmentality which call on individuals to invest not just in their own well-being, but in the broader project of life. Calculation is a primary technique through which modern environmental governance is enacted; calculative strategies are seen to mediate risk, according to Foucault, and consequently to “assure living” (Elden 575). Rationalised schemes for self-monitoring are proliferating under climate change and the project of environmentalism more broadly, something which critics of neo-liberalism have identified as symptomatic of the privatisation of politics that liberal governmentality has fostered. As we have seen in Australia, an evolving policy emphasis on individual practices and the domestic sphere as crucial sites of environmental action – for instance, the introduction of domestic water restrictions, and the phasing out of energy-inefficient light bulbs in the home—provides a leading discourse of ethico-political responsibility. The rise of carbon dioxide counting is symptomatic of this culture, and indicates the distributed fields of life management in contemporary governmentality. Carbon dioxide, as the CPE is keen to point out, is crucial to life, but it is also—in too large an amount—a force of destruction. Its management, in vitalist terms, is thus established as an effort to protect life in the face of death. The concept of “carbon footprinting” has been promoted by governments, NGOs, industry and individuals as a way of securing this goal, and a host of calculative techniques and strategies are employed to this end, across a spectrum of activities and contexts all framed in the interests of life. The footprinting measure seeks to secure living via self-policed limits, which also—in classic biopolitical form—shift previously private practices into a public realm of count-ability and accountability. The carbon footprint, like its associates the ecological footprint and the water footprint, has developed as a multi-faceted tool of citizenship beyond the traditional boundaries of the state. Suggesting an ecological conception of territory and of our relationships and responsibilities to this, the footprint, as a measure of resource use and emissions relative to the Earth’s capacities to absorb these, calculates and visualises the “specific qualities” (Elden 575) that, in a spatialised understanding of security, constitute and define this territory. The carbon footprint’s relatively simple remit of measuring carbon emissions per unit of assessment—be that the individual, the corporation, or the nation—belies the ways in which life is formatted and produced through its calculations. A tangled set of devices, practices and discourses is employed to make carbon and thus life calculable and manageable. Treading Lightly The old environmental adage to “tread lightly upon the Earth” has been literalised in the metaphor of the footprint, which attempts both to symbolise environmental practice and to directly translate data in order to meaningfully communicate necessary boundaries for our living. The World Wildlife Fund’s Living Planet Report 2008 exemplifies the growing popularity of the footprint as a political and poetic hook: speaking in terms of our “ecological overshoot,” and the move from “ecological credit to ecological deficit”, the report urges an attendance to our “global footprint” which “now exceeds the world’s capacity to regenerate by about 30 per cent” (1). Angela Crombie’s A Lighter Footprint, an instruction manual for sustainable living, is one of a host of media through which individuals are educated in modes of footprint calculation and management. She presents a range of techniques, including carbon offsetting, shifting to sustainable modes of transport, eating and buying differently, recycling and conserving water, to mediate our carbon dioxide output, and to “show […] politicians how easy it is” (13). Governments however, need no persuading from citizens that carbon calculation is an exercise to be harnessed. As governments around the world move (slowly) to address climate change, policies that instrumentalise carbon dioxide emission and reduction via an auditing of credits and deficits have come to the fore—for example, the European Union Emissions Trading Scheme and the Chicago Climate Exchange. In Australia, we have the currently-under-debate Carbon Pollution Reduction Scheme, a part of which is the Australian Emissions Trading Scheme (AETS) that will introduce a system of “carbon credits” and trading in a market-based model of supply and demand. This initiative will put a price on carbon dioxide emissions, and cap the amount of emissions any one polluter can produce without purchasing further credits. In readiness for the scheme, business initiatives are forming to take advantage of this new carbon market. Industries in carbon auditing and off-setting services are consolidating; hectares of trees, already active in the carbon sequestration market, are being cultivated as “carbon sinks” and key sites of compliance for polluters under the AETS. Governments are also planning to turn their tracts of forested public land into carbon credits worth billions of dollars (Arup 7). The attachment of emission measures to goods and services requires a range of calculative experts, and the implementation of new marketing and branding strategies, aimed at conveying the carbon “health” of a product. The introduction of “food mile” labelling (the amount of carbon dioxide emitted in the transportation of the food from source to consumer) in certain supermarkets in the United Kingdom is an example of this. Carbon risk analysis and management programs are being introduced across businesses in readiness for the forthcoming “carbon economy”. As one flyer selling “a suite of carbon related services” explains, “early action will give you the edge in understanding and mitigating the risks, and puts you in a prime position to capitalise on the rewards” (MGI Business Solutions Worldwide). In addition, lobby groups are working to ensure exclusions from or the free allocation of permits within the proposed AETS, with degrees of compulsion applied to different industries – the Federal Government, for instance, will provide a $3.9 billion compensation package for the electric power sector when the AETS commences, to enable their “adjustment” to this carbon regime. Performing Life Noortje Mares provides a further means of thinking through the politics of life in the context of climate change by complicating the distinction between public and private interest. Her study of “green living experiments” describes the rise of carbon calculation in the home in recent years, and the implementation of technologies such as the smart electricity meter that provides a constantly updating display of data relating to amounts and cost of energy consumed and the carbon dioxide emitted in the routines of domestic life. Her research tracks the entry of these personal calculative regimes into public life via internet forums such as blogs, where individuals notate or discuss their experiences of pursing low-carbon lifestyles. On the one hand, these calculative practices of living and their public representation can be read as evidencing the pervasive neo-liberal governmentality at work in contemporary environmental practice, where individuals are encouraged to scrupulously monitor their domestic cultures. The rise of auditing as a technology of self, and more broadly as a technique of public accountability, has come under fire for its “immunity-granting role” (Charkiewicz 79), where internal audits become substituted for external compliance and regulation. Mares challenges this reading, however, by demonstrating the ways in which green living experiments “transform everyday material practices into practices of public involvement” that (118) don’t resolve or pin down relations between the individual, the non-human environment, and the social, or reveal a mappable flow of actions and effects between the public realm and the home. The empirical modes of publicity that these individuals employ, “the careful recording of measurements and the reliable descriptions of sensory observation, so as to enable ‘virtual witnessing’ by wider audiences”, open up to much more complex understandings than one of calculative self-discipline at work. As “instrument[s] of public involvement” (120), the experiments that Mares describe locate the politics of life in the embodied socio-material entanglements of the domestic sphere, in arrangements of humans and non-human technologies. Such arrangements, she suggests, are ontologically productive in that they introduce “not only new knowledge, but also new entities […] to society” (119), and as such these experiments and the modes of calculation they employ become active in the composition of reality. Recent work in economic sociology and cultural studies has similarly contended that calculation, far from either a naturalised or thoroughly abstract process, relies upon a host of devices, relations, and techniques: that is, as Gay Hawkins explains, calculative processes “have to be enacted” (108). Environmental governmentality in the service of securing life is a networked practice that draws in a host of actors, not a top-down imposition. The institution of carbon economies and carbon emissions as a new register of public accountability, brings alternative ways to calculate the world into being, and consequently re-calibrates life as it emerges from these heterogeneous arrangements. All That Gathers Latour writes that we come to know a matter of concern by all the things that gather around it (Latour). This includes the human, as well as the non-human actors, policies, practices and technologies that are put to work in the making of our realities. Climate change is routinely represented as a threat to life, with predicted (and occurring) species extinction, growing numbers of climate change refugees, dispossessed from uninhabitable lands, and the rise of diseases and extreme weather scenarios that put human life in peril. There is no doubt, of course, that climate change does mean death for some: indeed, there are thanopolitical overtones in inequitable relations between the fall-out of impacts from major polluting nations on poorer countries, or those much more susceptible to rising sea levels. Biosocial equity, as Bull points out, is a “matter of being equally alive and equally dead” (2). Yet in the biopolitical project of assuring living, life is burgeoning around the problem of climate change. The critique of neo-liberalism as a blanketing system that subjects all aspects of life to market logic, and in which the cynical techniques of industry seek to appropriate ethico-political stances for their own material ends, are insufficient responses to what is actually unfolding in the messy terrain of climate change and its biopolitics. What this paper has attempted to show is that there is no particular purchase on life that can be had by any one actor who gathers around this concern. Varying interests, ambitions, and intentions, without moral hierarchy, stake their claim in life as a constantly constituting site in which they participate, and from this perspective, the ways in which we understand life to be both produced and managed expand. This is to refuse either an opposition or a conflation between the market and nature, or the market and life. It is also to argue that we cannot essentialise human-ness in the climate change debate. For while human relations with animals, plants and weathers may make us what we are, so too do our relations with (in a much less romantic view) non-human things, technologies, schemes, and even markets—from carbon auditing services, to the label on a tin on the supermarket shelf. As these intersect and entangle, the project of life, in the new politics of climate change, is far from straightforward. References An Inconvenient Truth. Dir. Davis Guggenheim. Village Roadshow, 2006. Arup, Tom. “Victoria Makes Enormous Carbon Stocktake in Bid for Offset Billions.” The Age 24 Sep. 2009: 7. Bratich, Jack Z., Jeremy Packer, and Cameron McCarthy. “Governing the Present.” Foucault, Cultural Studies and Governmentality. Ed. Bratich, Packer and McCarthy. Albany: State University of New York Press, 2003. 3-21. Bull, Malcolm. “Globalization and Biopolitics.” New Left Review 45 (2007): 12 May 2009 . < http://newleftreview.org/?page=article&view=2675 >. Charkiewicz, Ewa. “Corporations, the UN and Neo-liberal Bio-politics.” Development 48.1 (2005): 75-83. Clark, Nigel, and Nick Stevenson. “Care in a Time of Catastrophe: Citizenship, Community and the Ecological Imagination.” Journal of Human Rights 2.2 (2003): 235-246. Crombie, Angela. A Lighter Footprint: A Practical Guide to Minimising Your Impact on the Planet. Carlton North, Vic.: Scribe, 2007. Di Muzio, Tim. “Governing Global Slums: The Biopolitics of Target 11.” Global Governance. 14.3 (2008): 305-326. Elden, Stuart. “Governmentality, Calculation and Territory.” Environment and Planning D: Society and Space 25 (2007): 562-580. Hawkins, Gay. The Ethics of Waste: How We Relate to Rubbish. Sydney: University of New South Wales Press, 2006. Latour, Bruno. “Why Has Critique Run Out of Steam?: From Matters of Fact to Matters of Concern.” Critical Inquiry 30.2 (2004): 225-248. Mares, Noortje. “Testing Powers of Engagement: Green Living Experiments, the Ontological Turn and the Undoability and Involvement.” European Journal of Social Theory 12.1 (2009): 117-133. MGI Business Solutions Worldwide. “Carbon News.” Adelaide. 2 Aug. 2009. Ong, Aihwa. “Mutations in Citizenship.” Theory, Culture and Society 23.2-3 (2006): 499-505. Potter, Emily. “Footprints in the Mallee: Climate Change, Sustaining Communities, and the Nature of Place.” Landscapes and Learning: Place Studies in a Global World. Ed. Margaret Somerville, Kerith Power and Phoenix de Carteret. Sense Publishers. Forthcoming. Rabinow, Paul, and Nikolas Rose. “Biopower Today.” Biosocieties 1 (2006): 195-217. Rose, Nikolas. “The Politics of Life Itself.” Theory, Culture and Society 18.6 (2001): 1-30. World Wildlife Fund. Living Planet Report 2008. Switzerland, 2008.

“People live here, they die here so they must leave traces.” (Read 140) “Whatever colonialism was and is, it has made this place unsettling and unsettled.” (Gibson, Badland 2) Introduction What does it mean for [a] country to be haunted? In much theoretical work in film and Cultural Studies since the 1990s, the Australian continent, more often than not, bears traces of long suppressed traumas which inevitably resurface to haunt the present (Gelder and Jacobs; Gibson; Read; Collins and Davis). Felicity Collins and Therese Davis illuminate the ways Australian cinema acts as a public sphere, or “vernacular modernity,” for rethinking settler/indigenous relations. Their term “backtracking” serves as a mode of “collective mourning” in numerous films of the last decade which render unspoken colonial violence meaningful in contemporary Australia, and account for the “aftershocks” of the Mabo decision that overturned the founding fiction of terra nullius (7). Ray Lawrence’s 2006 film Jindabyne is another after-Mabo film in this sense; its focus on conflict within settler/indigenous relations in a small local town in the alpine region explores a traumatised ecology and drowned country. More than this, in our paper’s investigation of country and its attendant politics, Jindabyne country is the space of excessive haunting and resurfacing - engaging in the hard work of what Gibson (Transformations) has termed “historical backfill”, imaginative speculations “that make manifest an urge to account for the disconnected fragments” of country. Based on an adaptation by Beatrix Christian of the Raymond Carver story, So Much Water, So Close to Home, Jindabyne centres on the ethical dilemma produced when a group of fishermen find the floating, murdered body of a beautiful indigenous woman on a weekend trip, but decide to stay on and continue fishing. In Jindabyne, “'country' […] is made to do much discursive work” (Gorman-Murray). In this paper, we use the word as a metonym for the nation, where macro-political issues are played out and fought over. But we also use ‘country’ to signal the ‘wilderness’ alpine areas that appear in Jindabyne, where country is “a notion encompassing nature and human obligation that white Australia has learned slowly from indigenous Australia” (Gibson, Badland 178). This meaning enables a slippage between ‘land’ and ‘country’. Our discussion of country draws heavily on concepts from Ross Gibson’s theorisation of badlands. Gibson claims that originally, ‘badland’ was a term used by Europeans in North America when they came across “a tract of country that would not succumb to colonial ambition” (Badland 14). Using Collins and Davis’s “vernacular modernity” as a starting point, a film such as Jindabyne invites us to work through the productive possibilities of postcolonial haunting; to move from backtracking (going over old ground) to imaginative backfill (where holes and gaps in the ground are refilled in unconventional and creative returns to the past). Jindabyne (as place and filmic space) signifies “the special place that the Australian Alps occupy for so many Australians”, and the film engages in the discursive work of promoting “shared understanding” and the possibility of both Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal being “in country” (Baird, Egloff and Lebehan 35). We argue specifically that Jindabyne is a product of “aftermath culture” (Gibson Transformations); a culture living within the ongoing effects of the past, where various levels of filmic haunting make manifest multiple levels of habitation, in turn the product of numerous historical and physical aftermaths. Colonial history, environmental change, expanding wire towers and overflowing dams all lend meaning in the film to personal dilemmas, communal conflict and horrific recent crimes. The discovery of a murdered indigenous woman in water high in the mountains lays bare the fragility of a relocated community founded in the drowning of the town of old Jindabyne which created Lake Jindabyne. Beatrix Christian (in Trbic 61), the film’s writer, explains “everybody in the story is haunted by something. […] There is this group of haunted people, and then you have the serial killer who emerges in his season to create havoc.” “What’s in this compulsion to know the negative space?” asks Gibson (Badland 14). It’s the desire to better know and more deeply understand where we live. And haunting gives us cause to investigate further. Drowned, Murderous Country Jindabyne rewrites “the iconic wilderness of Australia’s High Country” (McHugh online) and replaces it with “a vast, historical crime scene” (Gibson, Badland 2). Along with nearby Adaminaby, the township of Old Jindabyne was drowned and its inhabitants relocated to the new town in the 1960s as part of the Snowy Mountains Hydro-electric Scheme. When Jindabyne was made in 2006 the scheme no longer represented an uncontested example of Western technological progress ‘taming’ the vast mountainous country. Early on in the film a teacher shows a short documentary about the town’s history in which Old Jindabyne locals lament the houses that will soon be sacrificed to the Snowy River’s torrents. These sentiments sit in opposition to Manning Clark’s grand vision of the scheme as “an inspiration to all who dream dreams about Australia” (McHugh online). With a 100,000-strong workforce, mostly migrated from war-ravaged Europe, the post-war Snowy project took 25 years and was completed in 1974. Such was this engineering feat that 121 workmen “died for the dream, of turning the rivers back through the mountains, to irrigate the dry inland” (McHugh online). Jindabyne re-presents this romantic narrative of progress as nothing less than an environmental crime. The high-tension wires scar the ‘pristine’ high country and the lake haunts every aspect of the characters’ interactions, hinting at the high country’s intractability that will “not succumb to colonial ambition” (Gibson, Badland 14). Describing his critical excavation of places haunted, out-of-balance or simply badlands, Gibson explains: Rummaging in Australia's aftermath cultures, I try to re-dress the disintegration in our story-systems, in our traditional knowledge caches, our landscapes and ecologies […] recuperate scenes and collections […] torn by landgrabbing, let's say, or by accidents, or exploitation that ignores rituals of preservation and restoration (Transformations). Tourism is now the predominant focus of Lake Jindabyne and the surrounding areas but in the film, as in history, the area does not “succumb to the temptations of pictorialism” (McFarlane 10), that is, it cannot be framed solely by the picture postcard qualities that resort towns often engender and promote. Jindabyne’s sense of menace signals the transformation of the landscape that has taken place – from ‘untouched’ to country town, and from drowned old town to the relocated, damned and electrified new one. Soon after the opening of the film, a moment of fishing offers a reminder that a town once existed beneath the waters of the eerily still Lake Jindabyne. Hooking a rusty old alarm clock out of the lake, Stuart explains to Tom, his suitably puzzled young son: underneath the water is the town where all the old men sit in rocking chairs and there’s houses and shops. […] There was a night […] I heard this noise — boing, boing, boing. And it was a bell coming from under the water. ‘Cause the old church is still down there and sometimes when the water’s really low, you can see the tip of the spire. Jindabyne’s lake thus functions as “a revelation of horrors past” (Gibson Badland 2). It’s not the first time this man-made lake is filmically positioned as a place where “violence begins to seem natural” (Gibson, Badland 13). Cate Shortland’s Somersault (2004) also uses Lake Jindabyne and its surrounds to create a bleak and menacing ambience that heightens young Heidi’s sense of alienation (Simpson, ‘Reconfiguring rusticity’). In Somersault, the male-dominated Jindabyne is far from welcoming for the emotionally vulnerable out-of-towner, who is threatened by her friend’s father beside the Lake, then menaced again by boys she meets at a local pub. These scenes undermine the alpine region’s touristic image, inundated in the summer with tourists coming to fish and water ski, and likewise, with snow skiers in the winter. Even away from the Lake, there is no fleeing its spectre. “The high-tension wires marching down the hillside from the hydro-station” hum to such an extent that in one scene, “reminiscent of Picnic at Hanging Rock (Peter Weir, 1975)”, a member of the fishing party is spooked (Ryan 52). This violence wrought upon the landscape contextualises the murder of the young indigenous woman, Susan, by Greg, an electrician who after murdering Susan, seems to hover in the background of several scenes of the film. Close to the opening of Jindabyne, through binoculars from his rocky ridge, Greg spots Susan’s lone car coursing along the plain; he chases her in his vehicle, and forces her to stop. Before (we are lead to assume) he drags her from the vehicle and murders her, he rants madly through her window, “It all comes down from the power station, the electricity!” That the murder/murderer is connected with the hydro-electric project is emphasised by the location scout in the film’s pre-production: We had one location in the scene where Greg dumps the body in some water and Ray [Lawrence] had his heart set on filming that next to some huge pipelines on a dam near Talbingo but Snowy Hydro didn’t […] like that negative content […] in association with their facility and […] said ‘no’ they wouldn’t let us do it.” (Jindabyne DVD extras) “Tales of murder and itinerancy in wild country are as old as the story of Cain in the killing fields of Eden” (Badlands 14). In Jindabyne we never really get to meet Greg but he is a familiar figure in Australian film and culture. Like many before him, he is the lone Road Warrior, a ubiquitous white male presence roaming the de-populated country where the road constantly produces acts of (accidental and intentional) violence (Simpson, ‘Antipodean Automobility’). And after a litany of murders in recent films such as Wolf Creek (Greg McLean, 2005) and Gone (Ringan Ledwidge, 2007) the “violence begins to seem natural” (Gibson Transformations 13) in the isolating landscape. The murderer in Jindabyne, unlike those who have migrated here as adults (the Irish Stuart and his American wife, Claire), is autochthonous in a landscape familiar with a trauma that cannot remain hidden or submerged. Contested High Country The unsinkability of Susan’s body, now an ‘indigenous murdered body’, holds further metaphorical value for resurfacing as a necessary component of aftermath culture. Such movement is not always intelligible within non-indigenous relations to country, though the men’s initial response to the body frames its drifting in terms of ascension: they question whether they have “broken her journey by tying her up”. The film reconfigures terra nullius as the ultimate badland, one that can never truly suppress continuing forms of physical, spiritual, historical and cultural engagement with country, and the alpine areas of Jindabyne and the Snowy River in particular. Lennon (14) points to “the legacy of biased recording and analysis” that “constitutes a threat to the cultural significance of Aboriginal heritage in alpine areas” (15). This significance is central to the film, prompting Lawrence to state that “mountains in any country have a spiritual quality about them […] in Aboriginal culture the highest point in the landscape is the most significant and this is the highest point of our country” (in Cordaiy 40). So whilst the Jindabyne area is contested country, it is the surfacing, upward mobility and unsinkable quality of Aboriginal memory that Brewster argues “is unsettling the past in post-invasion Australia” (in Lambert, Balayi 7). As the agent of backfill, the indigenous body (Susan) unsettles Jindabyne country by offering both evidence of immediate violence and reigniting the memory of it, before the film can find even the smallest possibility of its characters being ‘in country’. Claire illustrates her understanding of this in a conversation with her young son, as she attempts to contact the dead girls’ family. “When a bad thing happens,” she says, “we all have to do a good thing, no matter how small, alright? Otherwise the bad things, they just pile up and up and up.” Her persistent yet clumsy enactment of the cross-cultural go-between illuminates the ways “the small town community move through the terms of recent debate: shame and denial, repressed grief and paternalism” (Ryan 53). It is the movement of backfill within the aftermath: The movement of a foreign non-Aboriginal woman into Aboriginal space intertextually re-animates the processes of ‘settlement’, resolution and environmental assimilation for its still ‘unsettled’ white protagonists. […] Claire attempts an apology to the woman’s family and the Aboriginal community – in an Australia before Kevin Rudd where official apologies for the travesties of Australian/colonial history had not been forthcoming […] her movement towards reconciliation here is reflective of the ‘moral failure’ of a disconnection from Aboriginal history. (Lambert, Diasporas) The shift from dead white girl in Carver’s story to young Aboriginal woman speaks of a political focus on the ‘significance’ of the alpine region at a given moment in time. The corpse functions “as the trigger for crisis and panic in an Australia after native title, the stolen generation and the war-on-terror” (Lambert, Diasporas). The process of reconnecting with country and history must confront its ghosts if the community is to move forward. Gibson (Transformations) argues that “if we continue to close our imaginations to the aberrations and insufficiencies in our historical records. […] It’s likely we won’t dwell in the joy till we get real about the darkness.” In the post-colonial, multicultural but still divided geographies and cultures of Jindabyne, “genocidal displacement” comes face to face with the “irreconciled relation” to land “that refuses to remain half-seen […] a measure of non-indigenous failure to move from being on the land to being in country” (Ryan 52), evidenced by water harvesting in the Snowy Mountains Scheme, and the more recent crises in water and land management. Aftermath Country Haunted by historical, cultural and environmental change, Jindabyne constitutes a post-traumatic screen space. In aftermath culture, bodies and landscapes offer the “traces” (Gibson, Transformations) of “the social consequences” of a “heritage of catastrophe” that people “suffer, witness, or even perpetrate” so that “the legacy of trauma is bequeathed” (Walker i). The youth of Jindabyne are charged with traumatic heritage. The young Susan’s body predictably bears the semiotic weight of colonial atrocity and non-indigenous environmental development. Evidence of witnesses, perpetrators and sufferers is still being revealed after the corpse is taken to the town morgue, where Claire (in a culturally improper viewing) is horrified by Susan’s marks from being secured in the water by Stuart and the other men. Other young characters are likewise haunted by a past that is environmental and tragically personal. Claire and Stuart’s young son, Tom (left by his mother for a period in early infancy and the witness of his parents strained marital relations), has an intense fear of drowning. This personal/historical fear is played with by his seven year old friend, Caylin-Calandria, who expresses her own grief from the death of her young mother environmentally - by escaping into the surrounding nature at night, by dabbling in the dark arts and sacrificing small animals. The two characters “have a lot to believe in and a lot of things to express – belief in zombies and ghosts, ritual death, drowning” (Cordaiy 42). As Boris Trbic (64) observes of the film’s characters, “communal and familial harmony is closely related to their intense perceptions of the natural world and their often distorted understanding of the ways their partners, friends and children cope with the grieving process.” Hence the legacy of trauma in Jindabyne is not limited to the young but pervades a community that must deal with unresolved ecologies no longer concealed by watery artifice. Backfilling works through unsettled aspects of country by moving, however unsteadily, toward healing and reconciliation. Within the aftermath of colonialism, 9/11 and the final years of the Howard era, Jindabyne uses race and place to foreground the “fallout” of an indigenous “condemnation to invisibility” and the “long years of neglect by the state” (Ryan 52). Claire’s unrelenting need to apologise to the indigenous family and Stuart’s final admission of impropriety are key gestures in the film’s “microcosm of reconciliation” (53), when “the notion of reconciliation, if it had occupied any substantial space in the public imagination, was largely gone” (Rundell 44). Likewise, the invisibility of Aboriginal significance has specificity in the Jindabyne area – indigeneity is absent from narratives recounting the Snowy Mountains Scheme which “recruited some 60,000 Europeans,” providing “a basis for Australia’s postwar multicultural society” (Lennon 15); both ‘schemes’ evidencing some of the “unrecognised implications” of colonialism for indigenous people (Curthoys 36). The fading of Aboriginal issues from public view and political discourse in the Howard era was serviced by the then governmental focus on “practical reconciliation” (Rundell 44), and post 9/11 by “the broad brushstrokes of western coalition and domestic political compliance” (Lambert, CMC 252), with its renewed focus on border control, and increased suspicion of non-Western, non-Anglo-European difference. Aftermath culture grapples with the country’s complicated multicultural and globalised self-understanding in and beyond Howard’s Australia and Jindabyne is one of a series of texts, along with “refugee plays” and Australian 9/11 novels, “that mobilised themselves against the Howard government” (Rundell 43-44). Although the film may well be seen as a “profoundly embarrassing” display of left-liberal “emotional politics” (44-45), it is precisely these politics that foreground aftermath: local neglect and invisibility, terror without and within, suspect American leadership and shaky Australian-American relations, the return of history through marked bodies and landscapes. Aftermath country is simultaneously local and global – both the disappearance and the ‘problem’ of Aboriginality post-Mabo and post-9/11 are backfilled by the traces and fragments of a hidden country that rises to the surface. Conclusion What can be made of this place now? What can we know about its piecemeal ecology, its choppy geomorphics and scarified townscapes? […] What can we make of the documents that have been generated in response to this country? (Gibson, Transformations). Amidst the apologies and potentialities of settler-indigenous recognition, the murdering electrician Gregory is left to roam the haunted alpine wilderness in Jindabyne. His allegorical presence in the landscape means there is work to be done before this badland can truly become something more. Gibson (Badland 178) suggests country gets “called bad […] partly because the law needs the outlaw for reassuring citizens that the unruly and the unknown can be named and contained even if they cannot be annihilated.” In Jindabyne the movement from backtracking to backfilling (as a speculative and fragmental approach to the bodies and landscapes of aftermath culture) undermines the institutional framing of country that still seeks to conceal shared historical, environmental and global trauma. The haunting of Jindabyne country undoes the ‘official’ production of outlaw/negative space and its discursively good double by realising the complexity of resurfacing – electricity is everywhere and the land is “uncanny” not in the least because “the town of Jindabyne itself is the living double of the drowned original” (Ryan 53). The imaginative backfill of Jindabyne reorients a confused, purgatorial Australia toward the “small light of home” (53) – the hope of one day being “in country,” and as Gibson (Badland 3) suggests, the “remembering,” that is “something good we can do in response to the bad in our lands.” References Baird, Warwick, Brian Egloff and Rachel Lenehan. “Sharing the mountains: joint management of Australia’s alpine region with Aboriginal people.” historic environment 17.2 (2003): 32-36. Collins, Felicity and Therese Davis. Australian Cinema after Mabo. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2005. Cordaiy, Hunter. “Man, Woman and Death: Ray Lawrence on Jindabyne.” Metro 149 (2006): 38-42. Curthoys, Anne. “An Uneasy Conversation: The Multicultural and the Indigenous.” Race Colour and Identity in Australia and New Zealand. Ed. John Docker and Gerhard Fischer. Sydney, UNSW P, 2000. 21-36. Gelder, Ken and Jane M. Jacobs. Uncanny Australia: Sacredness an Identity in a Postcolonial Nation. Carlton: Melbourne UP, 1998. Gibson, Ross. Seven Versions of an Australian Badland. St Lucia: U of Queensland P, 2002. Gibson, Ross. “Places, Past, Disappearance.” Transformations 13 (2006). Aug. 11 2008 transformations.cqu.edu.au/journal/issue_13/article_01.shtml. Gorman-Murray, Andrew. “Country.” M/C Journal 11.5 (this issue). Kitson, Michael. “Carver Country: Adapting Raymond Carver in Australia.” Metro150 (2006): 54-60. Lambert, Anthony. “Movement within a Filmic terra nullius: Woman, Land and Identity in Australian Cinema.” Balayi, Culture, Law and Colonialism 1.2 (2001): 7-17. Lambert, Anthony. “White Aborigines: Women, Mimicry, Mobility and Space.” Diasporas of Australian Cinema. Eds. Catherine Simpson, Renata Murawska, and Anthony Lambert. UK: Intellectbooks, 2009. Forthcoming. Lambert, Anthony. “Mediating Crime, Mediating Culture.” Crime, Media, Culture 4.2 (2008): 237-255. Lennon, Jane. “The cultural significance of Australian alpine areas.” Historic environment 17.2 (2003): 14-17. McFarlane, Brian. “Locations and Relocations: Jindabyne & MacBeth.” Metro Magazine 150 (Spring 2006): 10-15. McHugh, Siobhan. The Snowy: The People Behind the Power. William Heinemann Australia, 1999. http://www.mchugh.org/books/snowy.html. Read, Peter. Haunted Earth. Sydney: UNSW Press, 2003. Rundle, Guy. “Goodbye to all that: The end of Australian left-liberalism and the revival of a radical politics.” Arena Magazine 88 (2007): 40-46. Ryan, Matthew. “On the treatment of non-indigenous belonging.” Arena Magazine 84 (2006): 52-53. Simpson, Catherine. “Reconfiguring Rusticity: feminizing Australian Cinema’s country towns’. Studies in Australasian Cinemas 2.1 (2008): forthcoming. Simpson, Catherine. “Antipodean Automobility & Crash: Treachery, Trespass and Transformation of the Open Road.” Australian Humanities Review 39-40 (2006). http://www.australianhumanitiesreview.org/archive/Issue-September-2006/simpson.html. Trbic, Boris. “Ray Lawrence’s Jindabyne: So Much Pain, So Close to Home.” Screen Education 44 (2006): 58–64. Walker, Janet. Trauma Cinema: Documenting Incest and the Holocaust. Berkley, Los Angeles and London: U of California P, 2005.

Introduction The evolution of creative city paradigm in the last three decades has dramatically changed the notion of placemaking and the meaning of art and design for urban development in the creative and cultural economy context. Very recently, a spontaneously emerging art district has been exploited by policy actions in many cities, resulting in its presence on the global stage at the UNESCO Creative City Network. The two most common approaches that drive art and design-based development policies are seen in the creative city approach and community development approach (Evans; Murdoch III et al.). The creative city approach aims to contribute to economic development by focussing on the economic role of art and design (Florida; Murdoch III et al.). The community development approach, on the other hand, is seen as an important factor for social benefit and democratic development (Murdoch III et al.; Grodach; Markusen and Gadwa). Grassroots arts movements and community arts organisations, in the community development approach, support the arts as a low-income community involvement and development initiative (Murdoch III et al.). According to Grodach, public spaces and art and design spaces have three main roles in community development, and are built on local assets to increase community engagement, interaction, and participation. Despite the vast range of economic considerations in the current literature, it remains unclear how creative placemaking through arts, crafts, and design operates in the context of creative cities. Particularly, there is a need for a more comprehensive perspective of how creative placemaking contributes to art district development. Economic competition among creative cities has increased, especially since neoliberal policies diffused to the urban agenda. The city of Izmir, located in the Aegean coast of Turkey, being one of the world's top 130 cities (Tekeli), contributes to globalisation of the region and occupies a unique position in Turkey’s democratic history. Regarding the global arena, Izmir has reformulated its governmental structure in the making of places, with particular neighbourhoods seeking to increase their attractiveness to the creative class, support the creative industries, and to become a ‘Creative City’. Since the Culture and Art Workshop in 2009, when the Izmir Metropolitan Municipality established a creative city vision to serve as a high point in a democratic era, in particular involving elements of culture and creativity of importance for local and global actors, there has been a series of programs with different design strategies and governance mechanisms, such as the design projects (e.g. Izmir Sea Project and Izmir History Project, and History Design Workshop), formations (e.g. establishment of Izmir Mediterranean Academy with branches of history, design, ecology, culture, and arts in 2013), events and organisations (e.g. Good Design Izmir in 2016, 5th World Design Talks by the World Design Organization [WDO] in 2018), and applications for candidacy (e.g. for the World Design Capital title 2020, and UNESCO Creative Cities Network in 2019). The purpose of this article is to explore the drivers for art and design-based development in the urban environment through the lens of creative placemaking, and how this is practiced by creative class grassroots initiatives in cities such as Izmir, Turkey, which was shortlisted in the Creative City Network competition in 2019. The methodology is built on 1) a framework analysis through the research on art and design districts and the utilisation of creative placemaking, and 2) a field study exploring the creative placemaking drivers in an emerging art district, Darağaç, in Izmir. The field study is composed of site visits, visual mappings, the use of snowball sampling to reach the creative class, and structured interviews. The framework analysis findings suggest a set of creative placemaking drivers for art and design-based developments, and the case study findings present implications for future policies for integration of localised initiatives into the creative city framework. Framework Analysis The practice of creative cities applies one-size-fits-all strategies based on tangible and intangible characteristics to attract talent and support economic growth, whereas creative placemaking offers some crucial approaches to contribute to a locale's success and involvement in larger-scale plans. Therefore, placemaking appears as a phenomenological process that explains a sense of place, attachments, and, more broadly, the interaction between a region and its inhabitants (Mengi and Guaralda). The term ‘creative placemaking’ was first used by economist Ann Markusen and art consultant Anne Gadwa in the 2010 White Paper of the National Endowment for the Arts, as a solution when cities, suburbs, and small towns are faced with structural changes and displacement. Creative placemaking aims to revitalise space and economic development with creative initiatives. Markusen and Gadwa argue that creative placemaking provides gains in areas such as innovative products and services, livability, diversity, jobs, and income opportunities. Creative placemaking is also defined as a community-participatory tool to strengthen and enrich the identity of a place as well as development of a place. Community identity enables local assets to build trust and relationships (Kelkar et al.) while exploiting social and civic fabric that brings out the local character and narratives (Borrup). Moreover, Redaelli formulates creative placemaking as an innovative way of thinking for solving community problems that utilises the creative power of art and artists. From an economic perspective, Gallagher et al. point out that creative placemaking can happen in communities of any size and uses art and cross-sector collaboration to benefit the space. Creative placemaking through cross-sector collaboration is directly related to political ideology, social division, community size, resource limitations, and capacity of arts organisations. The theoretical discussion derived from the literature enables us to reconsider the use of creative placemaking approaches for creative city strategies and provides a framework that brings the most significant drivers of creative placemaking, especially for art and design-based strategies in urban environments (Table 1). Drivers Indicators Creative Practices Products Artworks Events Festivals Cultural Production Local Assets Local Knowledge Context Listening & Gathering Stories Knowledge & Skill Exchange Creativity Exchange Experiential Learning Community Involvement Co-Creation Collaboration Creative Placemakers Artists Designers Craftspeople Resident of the Community Local Audience Virtual Platform Archive/Publications Creativity Productivity Collectivity Spatial Environment Neighbourhood Streets Place Identity Digital Hub Atelier Digital Studio/Maker Space Art Galleries Exhibition Spaces Art Equipment Maker/Supplier Meeting Place/Third Place Institutional Support Networking Platform for Dialogue Space for Exhibition Publicity Public Fund Private Fund Philanthropists Sponsorship Education Institutions Art Institutions Art Organisations Non-Government Organisations Government Table 1: Major drivers of creative placemaking. Creative Practices, as the first driver, aim to describe tangible outputs such as products, works of art, events, and festivals. Wyckoff defines projects and activities involving art, culture, and creative thinking as the driving forces of creative placemaking to create collective memory. In this regard, Mutero et al. emphasise the importance of listening and gathering stories, in which it associates definitions such as community, local knowledge, and context. Describing community participation as a tool to improve the development of a place, Kelkar et al. mention that it helps to change the perception of the community. In this context, it creates trust and relationships while building community identity and sense of belonging. Creative Placemakers, as the second driver, represent actors in creative placemaking. One of the six drivers suggested by Markusen and Gadwa for creating a successful place are the creative initiators. Borrup, on the other hand, underlines the role of crucial actors, named as creative placemakers, such as city planners, developers, artists, local policy makers. neighbourhood residents, and local audiences, who also take part in creative practices guided by artists, designers, and craftspeople. According to Gaumer et al. and Schupbach, local actors must be involved as partners to realise more effective successful creative placemaking practices. Similarly, Kelkar et al. argue that the relationships that are built on the collaborative nature of involving actors transform productivity and create social capital. Spatial Environment, as the third driver, focusses on the spaces of creative practices. Spatial environments can be referred to at different scales, such as the digital hubs, ateliers, maker spaces, and event areas such as art galleries and exhibition areas that bring creative placemakers together and enable them to produce together. According to Ellery et al., such spaces enhance the use of public spaces while providing a sense of aesthetics, security, and community. Wyckoff lists drivers of creative placemaking as art spaces where artistic, cultural, and creative projects take place, work and living spaces for the creative class, art, culture, and entertainment activities. Institutional Support, as the fourth driver, underlines the expectations of creative placemakers from institutions. The institutional support through networking provides a platform for creative placemakers to establish dialogue as well as opportunities for exhibition areas and performances. The importance of the support of institutions and organisations such as the public sector, private sector, NGOs, and sponsors are essential to creative placemaking practices. Particularly, cross-sector partnership between institutions such as education institutions, art institutions, art organisations, non-government organisations, and government plays an important role in art and design-based development (Markusen and Gadwa; Borrup). Emergence of Darağaç as an Art District Creative places are found at various scales, such as regions, districts, hubs, and studios, and constitute the very integral part of the creative city formation. They represent a high culture ground on which artists and designers can design, make, and exhibit art. The secret of the successful transformation of creative places lies in the spontaneity of their development. The spontaneously emerging creative places are found as the result of a bottom-up approach where the resident involvement in this transformation strengthens the bond between local people and the place. Spontaneous developments are visible where cultural producers come together to attract like-minded producers (Zukin & Braslow). Examples of this phenomenon include New York City's SoHo neighbourhood, Beijing's 798 Arts District, Kreuzberg in Berlin, and the Temple Bar district in Dublin (Goldenberg-Miller et al.). The development of a spontaneous art and design district starts with the coming together of artists, designers, and cultural workers to form a network. Factors strengthening the network and contributing to the success of the region include community perception, information exchange within the community, and working and living together (Kumer). Darağaç has very recently emerged as an art district in Umurbey neighbourhood in Izmir. Known formerly as an industrial zone, it now hosts small industries and artists. Darağaç Art District, home to pre-Republican era factories operated by non-Muslim minorities and nineteenth-century two-storey workers' residences, was developed in the twentieth century as an industrial zone hosting Şark Sanayi Electric Factory, İzmir Cotton Fabric Factory, and Sümerbank Basma Industry (Kayın qtd. in Pasin et al.). A small group of artists from Izmir settled in the region in 2013, in rented former workers' residences serving as studios and residences, and shortly afterwards the district started to attract more artists and designers (Darağaç Collective). Surrounded by inert and functionless industrial buildings, Darağaç Art District still maintains its industrial identity as well as hosting those on low incomes and providing artists with opportunity to live and produce (Kocaer). There has been an increasing dialogue established between the original inhabitants, mostly craftspeople, and the artists, especially after 2 craftspeople and 13 artists opened their first exhibitions in June 2016 (Darağaç Collective). Since then, Darağaç has evolved to an “art district”, home to many projects and national and international artists. This has greatly shaped the physical environment and neighbourhood identity in the Darağaç Art District (fig. 1). Fig. 1: The integration of artworks or installations with the physical environment and neighbourhood identity in the Darağaç Art District. (Source: Kanal.) For Yavuzcezzar, the main purpose of Darağaç is to provide a space or a common discourse for young artists to exhibit their works. Darağaç Art District hosts interdisciplinary art works covering painting, photography, sculpture, installation, video, and performance (Yavuzcezzar). Also, Children's Meetings held in Darağaç Art District aim to increase the engagement of children in the neighbourhood through culture and arts (Darağaç Collective). Kılınç et al. explain the three main factors contributing to the development of the Darağaç Art District: site specificity; collaborative art practice; and close personal relationships established between neighbours. The site specificity factor is defined as the expansion of production towards the street and the inert lots in the district, replacing the existing spatial configurations in the neighbourhood, which do not meet the needs of the artists. Collaborative art practice is defined as the exchange between local people and artists. Kılınç et al. argue that the productive roles of artists and craftspeople have enabled them to establish a cooperation. The third factor is the close relationship established between neighbours through the Darağaç Collective Association in 2020 (Kılınç et al.). This has been visible in one of the most influential projects, ‘Darağaç Bostan’, in Darağaç (fig. 2). Fig. 2: Co-creation efforts in the Darağaç Art District. (Source: Culture Civic.) The case of Darağaç illustrates a unique case of a spontaneously emerged art district and underlines the importance of creative placemaking drivers for bottom-up creative city strategies. The area has been a democratic space via meetings, exhibitions, and workshops (fig. 3). Fig. 3: Knowledge-sharing practices in the Darağaç Art District. (Source: Darağaç.) The Case of Darağaç The case study consists of site visits, visual mappings, use of snowball sampling for reaching the artists and craftspeople, and structured interviews, and discusses the major drivers of creative placemaking and how they are practiced in Darağaç in Izmir. First Studies The first site visit to the Darağaç Art District was conducted in November 2020. At the time, there were a total of 13 artists and over 30 craftspeople located in the area (fig. 4). Following this, the pilot survey was conducted in February 2021, with a total of six participants, four artists, and two craftspeople from Darağaç Art District. All six participants were interviewed face-to-face, and each survey took approximately 15-20 minutes. After feedback from the pilot study participants, several changes were made in the final version of the survey. The following image illustrates the spatial clustering of craftspeople and artists residing in the neighbourhood who participated in the study (fig. 4). Fig. 4: Darağaç Survey Map. The Survey and Findings The four above-mentioned main drivers of creative placemaking, namely creative practices, creative placemakers, spatial environment, and institutional support, were addressed by Likert-scale questions. In the framework of the previously identified creative placemaking drivers, the survey was carried out to collect the opinions of the art district residents and draw conclusions. The participants were classified into three categories: artists, designers, and craftspeople. The first part of the survey is composed of general questions (age, gender, field of study, etc.) to give an overall idea of the participants. In the following four sections, it was aimed to measure the major drivers of creative placemaking, categorised as creative practices, creative placemakers, spatial environment, and institutional support. The fifth part examined the spatiality of art and design-based development in Darağaç in terms of economic, environmental, cultural, and social aspects. The survey was conducted between February and March 2021 in Darağaç Art District. All the art district residents were contacted and the rate of return of surveys was approximately 50%. 58% of the participants were resident in the neighbourhood, 42% were non-resident. 42% of participants reported that they used shared workspaces; 58% used individual workspaces. According to the survey results, the driving forces that most contribute to the development of the region are creative practices (art and craft works), creative placemakers (artists, designers, and craftspeople), and spatial environment (place identity), followed by institutional support from public, private, and non-governmental organisations, respectively (fig. 5). Fig. 5: Contributions of drivers to creative placemaking in Darağaç. It seems that the interaction and collaboration grouped under creative practice contribute significantly to the development of Darağaç, closely followed by knowledge and skill exchange and the presence of art and design events, and, lastly, by the final products. Considering the role of placemakers in the spontaneous development of Darağaç, an art district, the findings reveal that artists make the greatest contribution, followed by designers and craftspeople, while the impact of the residents as placemakers is relatively low. The results for the place-based inspirations for creative placemakers show that the spatiality of placemaking has a considerable effect on the texture of the neighbourhood. For the placemakers in the district, the pre-existence of artists, designers, and craftspeople in Darağaç was one of the main reasons for locating there. The neighbourhood’s cultural and historical value and the communication with the local community have equal importance in terms of their contribution to the spontaneous development. Finally, we examine institutional support as the final driver, which falls behind the other three, as seen in fig. 5. Only 38% of the participants reported that they were able to collaborate with an institution before, while only 38% managed to receive financial support. According to the results, the main three actors supporting the grassroots activities through collaborations are art organisations, universities, and municipalities. The results also show that the financial support through funding comes mainly from the existing associations and public authorities. Evaluation The results obtained from the case study show that cultural exchange has been the most influential factor in art and design-based development. Regarding the creative placemaking drivers, dialogue between the residents of the neighborhood has considerably increased as they share and exchange knowledge and skills since the art district development spontaneously started. Changing perceptions of the neighborhood residents through time and their growing relationship with art, design, and crafts have greatly contributed to the emergence of an art district. When we examine the art and design-based development, it is visible that the neighbourhood has evolved to a more attractive and atmospheric space for art and design practices. The results underline the role of solidarity and sense of belonging for strengthening the community engagement. We can also argue that the adaptive reuse of vacant spaces and the design of possible exhibition spaces have dramatically changed the identity of the space. However, the economic impacts of spontaneous art and design-based development have remained moderate with regard to the creation of auxiliary sectors to the production process, creating new jobs and income opportunities and having a self-sufficient economy. Conclusion Since 2010, the placemaking process has been more sensitive, with the help of increased human input and indication of co-creation tactics through creative placemaking. Creative placemaking has been reshaped along the creative city policies and strategies. Before the conceptualisation of creative placemaking, many authors (see Jones; Weitz; Wositzsky), had referred to the link between art and community development, and highlighted how artists, art societies and local communities are positively affected by using art as a tool for the community. Within this context, this article provides a relatively more comprehensive approach to art and design-based development within the framework of creative placemaking for the creative cities of today. It examines and categorises the creative placemaking components, and explores how these components work and how they contribute to spontaneous art district development through the case of Darağaç, Izmir, in Turkey, a place where artists, designers, and craftspeople live and produce together. Culture and creativity as significant tools for economic development and urban renewal are found in many of the recent planning strategies (Codignola). The creative economy, cultural tourism, and creative placemaking have encouraged communities to use art for economic benefit (Gallagher et al.). According to Grodach, art and design spaces can contribute to tourism by attracting visitors from the immediate environment while providing employment opportunities to local artists and thus contributing to individual well-being and local economic development. Although this does not have the power to eliminate problems such as displacement, unemployment, and social exclusion, it makes a great contribution to urban inequality (Grodach). The four main drivers, creative practices, creative placemakers, spatial environment, and institutional support, all play a significant role in the emergence of Darağaç as an art district. The most influential driver, that of creative practices, highlights the importance of art and design production and events and festivals as creative practices, indicating a high concentration of local assets and tacit knowledge. Secondly, placemakers have a considerable importance in the spontaneous transformation from an industrial zone to an art district with regard to craftspeople’s and designers’ living and work environments. Also, their collective attitude towards the local residents in the area seems to have significantly contributed to this development through skill exchange, community involvement, and co-creation. Thirdly, the spatial environment, originating in the 1930s, and the available amenities have a great influence on the identity formation of the district. Lastly, the available institutional support underlines the strong role of art and design in economic development. However, Darağaç Art District has yet to receive sufficient support from the institutions, and tries to sustain its organic structure by operating as a self-sufficient entity. In further studies, additional drivers must be examined on an individual basis to arrive at policy suggestions, due to the strategic importance of building a feeling of place in the attraction and retention of creative talent. For the policy recommendations, it is important that the current urban agenda should present a combination of characteristics derived from the framework of creative placemaking for building better and more habitable creative places, rather than focussing solely on the more visible economic and physical urban goals. 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Introduction: How Do We Learn What We Know? “Deaf.” How do we learn what we know about being deaf and about deafness? What’s the difference between “being deaf” and “deafness” as a particular kind of (non) hearing? Which would you rather be, deaf or blind: children commonly ask this question as they make their early forays into imagining the lives of people different from them. Hearing people cannot know what it is like to be deaf, just as deaf people cannot know what it is like to hear ... or can they? Finally, how can we tell fresh and authentic stories of “being deaf” and the state of “deafness” that disrupt our familiar—perhaps even caricatured—patterns of understanding? In this special “deaf” edition of M/C Journal we wanted to create a body of work in which deaf writers and thinkers would have their say. Mindful that "Deaf history may be characterized as a struggle for Deaf individuals to 'speak' for themselves rather than to be spoken about in medical and educational discourses" (Bauman 47), we were particularly keen to place the contributions of deaf writers and thinkers alongside the mainstream hearing culture. This is why we have chosen not to identify each writer in this edition as deaf or hearing, preferring to leave that biographical auditory detail to the writers themselves. We already knew that "there isn't a large body of literature about the deaf by the deaf" (Henry Kisor 3). Thomas Couser writes that "this should not be surprising, for a number of factors militate against deaf autobiography ... making them unlikely and rare entities" (226). And so we welcomed the diversity of topics and range of genres to this edition: they included a playful ficto-critical exploration of deafness; personal reflections on deafness (ranging from regarding it as a condition of hearing loss to a state of being); poetry; a filmography; and several fresh analyses of representations of deafness, hearing technology and deaf people’s lives in theatre, film and television (this was a particularly popular theme); the poetics of embodiment (indeed, embodiment was a recurring theme across many of the submissions); a commentary on the role of interpreters in deaf-hearing relationships; and an analysis of the role of the Web 2.0 and other technology in deaf people’s communications. However, we noted that most of the uncommissioned submissions in response to our call for papers came from hearing people. We had to seek out contributions from deaf writers and thinkers and wondered why this was so. Mainstream publication avenues for writing by deaf people on the topic of deafness are rare in Australia: perhaps deaf writers lack the necessary confidence or belief that they would be read? In this edition, they certainly reveal that they have much to say ... and inspire us to lean in and think carefully about their words. A Deaf Knowingness In writing her poem “The Triton”, Sandra Hoopman was inspired by her frequent visits to her deaf grandmother at her old Lambert Street, Kangaroo Point home, where she had a huge triton on her wrought iron veranda. Her grandmother would put the triton up to her ear and show Sandra how to 'listen' to it so that she could ‘hear’ the sea. Her poetry recalls to mind Robert Panara's most-quoted poem, “On His Deafness”, in which he imagined that he might even hear 'the rustle of a star!' Following Sandra Hoopman’s poem, we are pleased to feature the essay “Body Language” by Jessica White, shortlisted for the ABR 2010 Calibre Prize, and Sydney Morning Herald Best Young Novelist for 2008 for her first novel A Curious Intimacy (Penguin 2008). In her essay, Jessica playfully explores the idea of not having a singular fixed identity by traversing a dialogue between the imagination and the character of Jessica, showing different selves at play and in conversation, and again in conversation with others at the ficto-critical room and with the ideas articulated by different authors. As with post-structuralist explorations, the essay emphasises the active and formative nature of language, story and ideas, which help us to deconstruct and reformulate versions of our lives and its possibilities. Play is a device that enables people to move beyond the confines of the social world. The joyful spirit of White’s essay is signalled when she writes: For example, there are still immense possibilities thrown up by theorising a jouissance, or pleasure, in the disabled body. As Susan Wendell points out, “paraplegics and quadriplegics have revolutionary things to teach us about the possibilities of sexuality which contradict patriarchal culture’s obsessions with the genitals” (120). Thus if there were more of a focus on the positive aspects of disability and on promoting the understanding that disability is not about lack, people could see how it fosters creativity and imagination. White’s essay is a ‘picaresque’, following a traveller who narrates her adventures and encounters. It is a wonderful model for narratives of difference as it departs, refreshingly, from mainstream Hollywood-style plot conventions, i.e of progress through conflict towards a climax and resolution. Instead, the picaresque allows for a variety of roles, settings and pathways for the wanderer, multiple characters and illuminating dialogues. It demonstrates literally as well as figuratively, productive encounters with the Other, jolting us into new understandings, ways of knowing and possibilities of being. In this way, White’s essay “Body Language” sets a thematically rich tone for this special “deaf” issue of M/C Journal. Through her essay and the following narratives, commentaries, articles and essays, we are immersed in the theme of the importance (and liberating possibilities) of contesting fixed and limited images, disrupting the representations and labels that are so readily assigned to the deaf or deafness. Different strategies and styles are employed, from figurative creative writing or life narrative to the critical essay or media analysis. Yet all contributions emphasise shifting perceptions, commence from a position of not being comfortable with the given representations or ideas that surround deaf identity. The personal narratives and essays assert a strong sense of disjuncture between deaf reality and common representations and ideas of deafness. Reading these contributions, we gain an acute sense of not being at one with the image or idea of a deaf person, not being at one with the social world, not being any one thing but rather many different and varying things and roles. The conditions of possibility are touched upon in the personal reflective pieces, resonating with the critical essays in their exploration of the possibilities of destabilizing hegemonic representations. For example, in “Becoming Deaf”, Karen McQuigg’s personal reflective essay, she describes several stages of the deaf experience. Her description of her son’s responses and adaptations is moving, and Karen mines a range of emotional responses to deafness. She shares with the reader the advice and support she received from other people: some readers will remember with affection the role of Elizabeth Hastings and John Lovett in the Australian Deaf community. McQuigg’s reflections sharply highlight the fluid nature of our individual experience and understanding of deafness. She (and we do too) shifts from what was experienced and understood initially as a blank, a not-comprehending—a ‘blank’ that is linked with loss and constraints, grief, suffering and isolation—to a discovery of how those views and experiences can change, along with changing environment and opportunities. This comes across also in Christy L Reid’s piece “Journey of a Deaf-Blind Woman”: possibilities are linked with where the narrator is living, with life events as varied as training and job opportunities, changes in health, marriage, the birth and development of children, child rearing, and of personal triumphs. Michael Uniacke’s personal essay “Fluid Identities: A Journey of Terminology” has much in common with Jessica White’s essay as he too engages playfully with his ideas. He uses language and figurative play to challenge the reader’s understandings of deaf identity, and to demonstrate the fluid and multiple nature of identity. For example, his opening anecdote about the Hearing Impaired Businessman plays to an embodiment of the idea that many people have, through categories and labels, of a deaf person, as Other, a caricature figure with no interiority or humour or nuanced life. Uniacke engages with this figure in a kind of dialogue, making him surreal, highlighting his typecast nature. By the end of his essay, Michael has shown us how identity can be context-specific and composed of many parts. In “Interpreters in Our Midst”, Breda Carty takes us on a jaunty, personal and engaging commentary that provokes the reader into taking a fresh look at the role of interpreters in mediating/translating relationships between deaf and hearing people. She asks, ‘When interpreters are in our midst, whose interests are they representing? And why are those interests not always clear to the observer?’ Originally written as a short piece for the Australian Sign Language Interpreters' Association (ASLIA), the article is informed by Breda’s immersion in particular professional and personal communities and experiences. While the tone of her commentary is light-hearted, using film screen representations of interpreters to illustrate her points, Breda nevertheless succeeds in politicizing the subject of interpretation and interpreters. She makes us aware of the social assumptions and hierarchies that structure our understanding of interpreting, which, if left unexamined, might seem a neutral and apolitical practice. Rebecca Sánchez makes an exciting contribution to the field of poetry. In her paper “Hart Crane's Speaking Bodies: New Perspectives on Modernism and Deafness”, Rebecca writes about looking for ideas about deafness in unexpected places, namely the poetry of hearing modernist Hart Crane. Taking up the theme of embodiment, evident in several other papers in this edition, Rebecca offers an interesting connection between a poetics of embodiment—Crane was influenced by Walt Whitman, a trail-blazer in embodied language in American poetry—and the more literal embodiment of manual languages. Although Hart Crane was not writing about deafness per se, his work explores the potential of embodied languages to alter the ways in which we interact with one another. When asked to define deafness, most people’s first response is to think of levels of hearing loss, of deficiency, or disability. By contrast, Crane’s non-literal approach provides a more constructive understanding of what communicative difference can mean, and how it can affect our und,erstanding of language itself. Rebecca’s essay's strength arises from its demonstration of Crane's desire to imagine the possibility of a language that lives within the body as rich and enabling, as are manual languages. Miriam Nathan Lerner’s professional training as a librarian is evident in her filmography “The Narrative Function of Deafness and Deaf Characters in Film”. During 2010, she is collaborating with a technical support faculty member at the Rochester National Technical Institute of the Deaf to design a website with quick-time windows so that the reader can click on and watch film clips of the works she references in her filmography. A lively, chatty introduction to some forty-three films with deaf characters and deafness, in which she provides her admittedly quirky approach to categorisation, Miriam Lerner’s filmography will one day be recognised in the same breath as Jonathon Miller’s “Rustle of a Star: An Annotated Bibliography of Deaf Characters in Fiction.” (Miller was also a librarian: they obviously possess the requisite skills of categorisation!) Pamela Kincheloe’s article “Do Androids Dream of Electric Speech? The Construction of Cochlear Implant Identity on American Television and the ‘New Deaf Cyborg’” offers an important analysis of popular (mis)conceptions of deafness and ‘assistive technologies’ as is evident from American television representations of deaf people with Cochlear Implants. She notes the prevalence of cochlear implants in television drama, identifies a couple of very limited narrative frames that dominate such representations, and discusses their implications. In her discussion of the ‘abject’ horror associated in television series with the cochlear implant recipient (often already a corpse) Kincheloe asserts that the Cochlear Implant technology is increasingly used in such narratives to convey intensified anxieties, not only about the deaf Other, but also about technology and the emergent ‘cyborgs’, humans modified by technology. Sharon Pajka-West’s well-researched article “Deaf Characters in Adolescent Fiction”, excerpted from her doctorate thesis, originated in a request from a young deaf reader for a book with which she could connect. Pajka-West takes us on her pursuit to fulfil this request, giving us many fascinating insights along the way. Her blog is essential reading not only for anyone interested in the field of adolescent literature, but also for those who understand the significance of providing young deaf readers access to literature in which the multiple possibilities for deaf lives, deaf identities, and deafness are canvassed. In her article “Marginalising the Mainstream: A Signed Performance of The Miracle Worker”, Caroline Heim places deaf issues centre-stage. Her thesis is that a way needs to be found to increase access to theatrical events for the deaf. She tackles this by viewing a Crossbow Production performance of The Miracle Worker (the story of the teaching relationship between Helen Keller and Annie Sullivan from different perspectives: accessibility, funding, plot construction and actors’ interpretation, the detail of production design (sound, colour and tactile) and the use of theatrical device, and post performance discussion. Arguably, Heim’s article might have benefited from more focus on the concept of inclusion, rather than exclusion. The claim that not enough money is given to providing ‘access’ for the deaf to mainstream productions may be difficult to uphold as a stand-alone argument when the budget of the majority of Australian theatre companies would highlight the fiscal difficulty they have just getting productions on the stage. All the same, Heim’s article provokes us, the reader, into investigating the many layered meanings of ‘access’ and also reminds us, yet again, of theatre’s potential magic in engaging audiences across all spheres of life. In her essay “Looking across the Hearing Line”, Nicole Matthews has written a stimulating paper on youth, Deaf people, and new media. Her paper is especially interesting as an exploration of the intersection between disability and Web 2.0 technologies. In particular, Matthews picks up a thread of Web 2.0 technologies relating to visual communication and expression to provide some insights into the emerging, complex nature of Deaf users’ engagement with digital media in contrast with the continuing problems of inaccessibility and exclusion in the mainstream world. Conclusion: Learning Our Knowingness from What We Don’t Know This special “deaf” issue of M/C Journal is not a “project”, in the Modern sense of that word, i.e. a unified collective effort to define identity, in this case deaf identity, or to consolidate and express a unique world view. Nor does it seek to enlighten the public about what it is to be deaf. Such a totalising project would inevitably suppress heterogeneity and the specificities of people’s lives. Rather, this collection offers many different particular and localised accounts - some personal and poetic, some analytical, some working through critique - which explore the conditions of possibility for human subjects, and in particular, people who are deaf. The contributions highlight in very different ways the complex and shifting fields within which people’s lives and experiences are formed. These works give us insight into the varied and changing social and environmental conditions that not only shape our lives but are in turn shaped by who we are and by our practices and choices. The constraints and possibilities of people’s lives change significantly and differ widely. They are linked inextricably with where people are, in terms of geography or location, and with the circumstances they find themselves in or create for themselves: circumstances of gender, family, social networks, economics, education, work, lifestyle, health or illness, physical abilities, differences and limitations. These works stress the highly contingent nature of human social development and the fluidity of deaf experience rather than identity. Identity shifts and takes on meaning in relation to others and situations; we come to know who we are through a process of differentiating ourselves from others and from identities that we do not feel comfortable with. In almost all of these accounts here experiences of deafness are not the same those conjured up by labels or stereotypes. This act of disassociation from the usual notions of deafness, highlights that our received language and labels do not give us knowledge. Disavowal reminds us that we do not know, except through some disruptive encounter with the Other, whether that is the otherness of our own deafness or the deafness of others. These writings that demonstrate the particularity and detail of deaf people’s experiences, enable us to know the limits and inaccuracies of the labels and identities so commonly assigned to deafness and the deaf. Thus, we come back to the beginning and find our equivocal, tentative answers to the question, ‘how do we learn what we know about being deaf and deafness?’ We learn what we know in various ways, yet hearing or deaf, we are exposed to particular ideas of deafness, limiting labels and assumptions that reinforce ‘ableist’ values. These writings have demonstrated the proliferation of limited stereotypes; they recur in narratives, news stories, television and films, and have power regardless of their disconnection from the real, and from the lived experience of deafness. It is a significant starting point to recognise the limitations of what we think we already know, through our media and social institutions, of deafness. These essays and writings represent a different epistemology; they explore not what deafness is or how it can be defined, but different ways of knowing deafness. References Couser, G. Thomas. “Signs of Life: Deafness and Personal Narrative” Ch. 6 in Recovering Bodies: Illness, Disability, and Life Writing. Wisconsin: University of Wisconsin Press, 1997. Bauman, H-Dirksen L. “Voicing Deaf Identity: Through the ‘I’s’ and Ears of an Other.” In S. Smith, and J. Watson, eds., Getting a Life: Everyday Uses of Autobiography. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1989. 47-62. Kisor, Henry. What’s That Pig Outdoors? A Memoir of Deafness. New York: Hill and Wang, 1990.