Journal articles on the topic 'Export market scanning'

International trade is crucial for Bosnia and Herzegovinas (B&H) economic prosperity. In this study guidance to B&H exporters is provided by identifying potential markets and products to focus on when designing future trade strategies. To this end trends in the world trade and trade patterns are examined using various approaches.First approach to identify the potential markets for the B&H exports called for identifying the countries with highest general demand for Bosnia and Herzegovinas current export products. The products Bosnia and Herzegovina exports most along with the countries that demand these products the most in the world are identified. The second approach for identifying the potential export markets for B&H products examine the import volumes of other countries in the world. Still a more fruitful approach for the B&H exporters, at least in the short term, is to target the markets with the fastest growth of import volumes (the third approach). In the fourth approach, untapped trade and highly untapped trade countries that should be targeted by B&H exporters are presented. The fifth approach for identifying the potential export markets for B&H products is based on examining the products whose imports increased fastest in recent years and the countries that imported these products most.The products/product groups that have the highest potential for B&H export success are also identified. First, most imported products as well as the products/product groups whose exports increased the fastest in recent years are examined. Second, the import volumes ten countries with the highest total imports are examined on a product basis to identify the products they import most as well as the products with the highest growth rate of imports. Third, product categories with untapped trade potential and highly untapped trade potential along with their respective markets are presented.Long term sustainable success in the ever changing global economy requires a close and continuous scanning of the trends in the environment. The analysis approaches described above provide B&H exporters a starting point in evaluating their product and market selection strategies and designing new ones for the future.

Improved marbling performance has been recognised for many years as an important objective for the high value export sector of the Australian beef industry. Over the last decade there have been several developments that have provided breeders with substantially better information on which to base breeding decisions aimed at improved marbling performance. These include the application of real-time ultrasound scanning for intramuscular fat percentage (IMF%); the derivation of genetic parameters involving IMF%; the incorporation of IMF% in multi-trait genetic evaluation; and, the industry adoption of selection index technology to assist in optimal multi-trait selection including marbling performance.It is argued that a major constraint to the genetic improvement in beef palatability traits, including marbling performance, has been the inadequate communication of effective market signals and poor information flow through the beef supply chain. This situation is unlikely to change unless the industry achieves a greater degree of vertical co-ordination and improved linkage across the supply chain from the producer to the consumer. There is a need for the implementation of genuine value based marketing systems that provide an appropriate financial incentive for seedstock and commercial beef producers to adopt breeding and management strategies that emphasise the improvement of beef palatability and marbling. The application of gene marker technology will provide future opportunities, as well as additional challenges, in the quest for achieving improved marbling performance.

Purpose The purpose of this paper is to first suggest scanning focal areas in new product development (NPD) by comparing with design thinking and, second, to uncover what people in different occupations expect of NPD based on future scenarios. Design/methodology/approach Authors place scanning and design thinking into a matrix of product-market strategies. In addition, this study adopts several open-end-type questionnaire surveys of employees at Japanese companies who have taken part in idea generation workshops that take a medium- to long-term perspective. Findings Authors found that innovations generated through scanning can cover the most difficult and uncertain areas in practice compared with design thinking. This manuscript also reveals occupational categories can be divided into two groups according to different expectations of NPD: the rapid-fire NPD expectation group and late-bloomer NPD expectation group. The former group which consists of marketing and engineering experts tends to expect that NPD is simply a response to existing needs and that profit will be gained expeditiously through NPD, while the latter, which comprising design and research experts, tends to expect that NPD will realize future innovations. Originality/value This study shows some common and different points between scanning and design thinking by using a theoretical framework of product-market strategies. Also, this study reveals who will lead innovation based on foresight in business.

Currently, the commercial market offers several tools for digital documentation of historic sites and buildings. Photogrammetry and laser scanning play a fundamental role in the acquisition of metric information, which is then processed to generate reliable records particularly useful also in the built heritage conservation field. Although potentially very fast and accurate, such techniques require expert operators to produce reliable results, especially in the case of complex and large sites.<br><br> The aim of this paper is to present the digital workflow developed for data acquisition and processing of the Shaikh Isa Bin Ali house in Muharraq, Bahrain. This historic structure is an outstanding example of Bahrain architecture as well as tangible memory of the country history, with strong connotations in the Bahrain cultural identity. The building has been documented employing several digital techniques, including: aerial (drone) and terrestrial photogrammetry, rectifying photography, total station and laser scanning. The documentation project has been developed for the Bahrain Authority for Culture and Antiquities (BACA) by a multidisciplinary team of experts from Carleton Immersive Media Studio (CIMS, Carleton University, Canada) and Gicarus Lab (Politecnico di Milano, Italy).

Introduction:As science advances the number of newly developed health technologies increases, but the lifecycles of health technologies becomes shorter. Thus, the importance of horizon scanning systems for identifying promising new health technologies and evaluating their potential impact is increasing. Engaging and collecting opinions from various stakeholders in this search process is very important. The purpose of this study was to develop a strategy for involving various stakeholders in all steps of the horizon scanning system in Korea.Methods:The horizon scanning system consists of five steps: identification, filtration, prioritization, assessment, and dissemination. We identified the stakeholders to be considered at each stage, and examined who would be involved and how. In addition, we planned how to synthesize and apply stakeholder opinions and to test the feasibility of these methods by using them in a horizon scanning system.Results:In the identification stage, developers, health professionals, and consumers suggested new and emerging health technologies to investigate. In the filtration stage, the person in charge of licensing judged the technologies based on appropriateness, innovativeness, and potential of market entry. In the prioritization phase, experts from eight to ten related fields (clinical, health technology and drugs, policy, methodology, patient organizations, etc.) participated and judged the technologies according to seven criteria (burden of disease, clinical impact, innovativeness, economic impact, acceptability, social impact, and evidence). In the assessment stage, between one and four clinical and methodological experts assessed the potential impact of the selected promising health technologies using seven evaluation items (unmet needs, improved patient health, health equity, change in medical behaviors, acceptability with respect to the patient and clinical condition, change in medical costs, and social, ethical, political, and cultural aspects). Before its dissemination, the final report was delivered to relevant industries for feedback (with particular emphasis on accuracy of data on the technology).Conclusions:There are many stakeholders in the horizon scanning system for new and emerging health technologies, depending on the healthcare system, policy, environment, etc. This study confirmed that stakeholder opinions on new technologies can vary. In addition, standards of social value judgment may change over time. It is therefore very important for horizon scanning systems to engage various stakeholders, collect their opinions, and make rational scientific decisions.

Virus spread increase significantly through the internet in 2017. One of the protection method is using antivirus software. The wide variety of antivirus software in the market tends to creating confusion among consumer. Selecting the right antivirus according to their needs has become difficult. This is the reason we conduct our research. We formulate a decision making model for antivirus software consumer. The model is constructed by using factor analysis and AHP method. First we spread questionnaires to consumer, then from those questionnaires we identified 16 variables that needs to be considered on selecting antivirus software. This 16 variables then divided into 5 factors by using factor analysis method in SPSS software. These five factors are security, performance, internal, time and capacity. To rank those factors we spread questionnaires to 6 IT expert then the data is analyzed using AHP method. The result is that performance factors gained the highest rank from all of the other factors. Thus, consumer can select antivirus software by judging the variables in the performance factors. Those variables are software loading speed, user friendly, no excessive memory use, thorough scanning, and scanning virus fast and accurately.

Abstract Purpose: The main purpose of the study was to assess the opinion of online consumers about the possibility of making custom apparel using 3D body scanning technology in an online environment and to investigate the shopping experience of consumers who purchase in the online apparel market. In order to be able to propose solutions to improve the online shopping experience, we also investigated aspects influencing non-purchasing in an online environment. Methods: An online questionnaire on shopping experience, influences on the purchase, and the process of online apparel shopping using advanced technology was prepared and distributed via several online channels to the consumers who purchase apparel online. The questionnaire was completed by 76 respondents from different European countries, the United States and Australia. In order to analyze individual aspects influencing non-purchasing in an online environment, an exploratory factor analysis was performed. Results: The factor analysis revealed that the two broad dimensions of reasons why consumers have never bought any ready-to-wear apparel online despite browsing are a misperception of product integrity and time-consuming searching. The results show that the proposed solutions to improve the online apparel experience, such as making custom apparel using advanced technologies, have a positive impact on the decision of the consumers to purchase on the online apparel market. It turned out that a high proportion of potential consumers are willing to share their body dimensions through 3D body scanning technology in order to improve the fit of the apparel. Conclusion: According to the results, we expect that the advanced 3D body scanning technology would provide substantial progress regarding fit, visualization, and manufacturing of custom-made apparel when purchasing in online stores.

In the course of archaeological excavation, a large number of pieces of cultural relics were unearthed, and the restoration of these fragments was done manually by traditional arts and crafts experts. In this process, cultural relics experts often try to splice the existing cultural relics, and then use adhesive to stick together the fragments of correct location, which will cause irreversible secondary damage to cultural relics. In order to minimize such damage, the surveyors combine 3D laser scanning with computer technology, and use the method of establishing digital cultural relics fragments model to make virtual splicing of cultural relics. The 3D software on the common market can basically achieve the model translation and rotation, using this two functions can be achieved manually splicing between models, mosaic records after the completion of the specific location of each piece of fragments, so as to effectively reduce the damage to the relics had tried splicing process.

Brunia albiflora (Pillans) is harvested commercially in South Africa as a cut flower for export to European markets. To compete with European cut flowers high quality and continuity of product during the marketing period are essential. Optimizing the cut-flower potential of B. albiflora requires an understanding of the flowering process and selection of clonal material. We present a series of scanning electron micrographs which show three-dimensional images of the developmental stages of the shoot apex during the transition from the vegetative to the reproductive state. In B. albiflora the inflorescence consists of more than 15 individual rotund inflorescences arising from lateral positions on the terminal portion of the shoot. Development of the apical meristem of axillary shoots was studied to determine the time and sequence of inflorescence initiation and development. These observations identified that flower initiation occurs in October, followed by flower development through summer, with anthesis being reached from February to March.

Little is known of the precise physiological or genetic basis of the phenomenon of rootstock-induced dwarfing in apple (Malus × domestica Borkh.). Phenotypic assessment and genetic marker analysis of a segregating population of apple rootstocks derived from a cross between the dwarfing rootstock ‘Malling 9’ (‘M.9’) and the vigorous rootstock ‘Robusta 5’ (‘R5’) was undertaken over a 5-year growth period. Clear segregation of the appearance of the ‘Braeburn’ scions permitted expert visual classification of each tree into four growth habit classes: dwarfed, semidwarfed, intermediate, or vigorous. Measurements of the cross-sectional area of the trunk of each tree correlated clearly with the expert-assigned phenotypic class. This clear segregation facilitated bulked segregant analysis (BSA) of the ‘M.9’ × ‘R5’ population, and the Dwarfing 1 (Dw1) gene was located in a 2.5-cM region at the top of the linkage group 5 of ‘M.9’. The gene Dw1 was mapped between the random amplified polymorphic DNA marker NZraAM18_700 and the microsatellite marker CH03a09, identified by BSA and the genome scanning approach, respectively. Dw1 is the first reported mapped locus controlling the dwarfing ability of the apple rootstock and maps to a chromosome region not previously known to contain quantitative trait loci or major genes that contribute to tree architecture and development. The identification of a group of trees in the ‘M.9’ × ‘R5’ population exhibiting a vigorous phenotype although their rootstocks possess alleles from the Dw1 region of ‘M.9’ suggests that more loci may be involved in conditioning the dwarfing phenotype. Dw1 is a major component of dwarfing, as most of the dwarfing and semidwarfing rootstocks carried the dwarfing allele of this locus. Genetically mapping Dw1 is a major step in unraveling the mechanism behind the dwarfing ability of apple rootstocks.

Purpose The main purpose of this paper is to critically review the contributions made by this theme issue to the literature by examining key trends in worldwide tourism and approaches for scanning its business environment. Design/methodology/approach A critical content analysis of the articles selected for the theme issue was undertaken. Findings From the various contributions made to the theme issue, it is possible to identify some major challenges that the tourism industry will face, these resulting from new tourist profiles, a growing middle-class, political tensions and terrorism, technological evolution and the decline in customers’ loyalty. Research limitations/implications Collectively, the articles in this theme issue provide rich insights on key trends impacting the worldwide tourism industry, as well as suggestions on how to explore the opportunities arising from the highly competitive tourism markets. The complexity of the information generated today call for innovative approaches on scanning the tourism business environment, to overcome the financial and operational constraints that those processes normally imply. Originality/value The articles selected for this theme issue present state-of-the-art research and experts’ viewpoints on tourism trends. These allow a deeper understanding of the challenges tourism organisations and destinations face today and the best-suited answers to explore the opportunities they provide.

Official statistics of the counterfeit medicines circulation significantly reduces the level of patient confidence not only to pharmacy specialists, but also to the healthcare system and even other government institutions. All stakeholders, from academics to politicians, point to the significant implications of this situation for the healthcare system. The relevance and complexity of the problems of combating the falsification of medicines requires an expert assessment of pharmacy specialists.The aim of the work is to evaluate the effectiveness of the anti-counterfeiting of medicines using a questionnaire of specialists of the State Service of Ukraine on Medicines and Drug Control and its territorial bodies.The object of the research was scientific publications, as well as the study of the opinions of specialists of the State Service of Ukraine on Medicines and Drug Control and its territorial bodies on the problems of anti-counterfeiting of medicines. The study was conducted using questionnaire survey methods, systematization and generalization.According to the results of the survey, respondents rated the work of the State Service of Ukraine and its territorial bodies on the prevention of the sale of counterfeit drugs as effective, but there are some problems – 67.16% and 76.12%; in general, as effective – 31.34% and 20.90% respectively. An assessment of the directions of inspection of pharmacies has showed that the majority of respondents to the first place belonged – the cancellation of a note of warning about planned inspection (86.57%), to the second and third – simplification of the inspection procedure in the presence of consumer complaints (without additional approvals), 64.18% and the introduction of the right to conduct «test purchases» of medicines by inspectors (56.72%), respectively. Effective methods that are appropriate to use to identify counterfeit drugs included: scanning 2-d barcodes using special equipment and software – 79.10%, a detailed study of supporting documents – 53.73%, a careful visual inspection of packages – 47,76%.Based on the results of the expert evaluation, the most important tools were established that minimize the problem of counterfeit medicines circulation: a significant increase in the powers of the regulatory body (according to the FDA) – 70.15%, independent serial quality control of imported and manufactured drugs and APIs – 64.18%, strengthening responsibility for admission to the pharmaceutical market of drugs with unproven effectiveness – 59.70%.According to the results of an expert evaluation of the pharmacy specialists, the most important priorities of state policy were established, that allows to increase the effectiveness of the medicines’ anti-counterfeiting, namely improving the system of state quality control and strengthening the responsibility for falsification of medicines.

Vegetation heights derived from drone laser scanning (DLS), and structure from motion (SfM) photogrammetry at the Virginia Tech StREAM Lab were utilized to determine hydraulic roughness (Manning’s roughness coefficients). We determined hydraulic roughness at three spatial scales: reach, patch, and pixel. For the reach scale, one roughness value was set for the channel, and one value for the entire floodplain. For the patch scale, vegetation heights were used to classify the floodplain into grass, scrub, and small and large trees, with a single roughness value for each. The roughness values for the reach and patch methods were calibrated using a two-dimensional (2D) hydrodynamic model (HEC-RAS) and data from in situ velocity sensors. For the pixel method, we applied empirical equations that directly estimated roughness from vegetation height for each pixel of the raster (no calibration necessary). Model simulations incorporating these roughness datasets in 2D HEC-RAS were validated against water surface elevations (WSE) from seventeen groundwater wells for seven high-flow events during the Fall of 2018 and 2019, and compared to marked flood extents. The reach method tended to overestimate while the pixel method tended to underestimate the flood extent. There were no visual differences between DLS and SfM within the pixel and patch methods when comparing flood extents. All model simulations were not significantly different with respect to the well WSEs (p > 0.05). The pixel methods had the lowest WSE RMSEs (SfM: 0.136 m, DLS: 0.124 m). The other methods had RMSE values 0.01–0.02 m larger than the DLS pixel method. Models with DLS data also had lower WSE RMSEs by 0.01 m when compared to models utilizing SfM. This difference might not justify the increased cost of a DLS setup over SfM (~150,000 vs. ~2000 USD for this study), though our use of the DLS DEM to determine SfM vegetation heights might explain this minimal difference. We expect a poorer performance of the SfM-derived vegetation heights/roughness values if we were using a SfM DEM, although further work is needed. These results will help improve hydrodynamic modeling efforts, which are becoming increasingly important for management and planning in response to climate change, specifically in regions were high flow events are increasing.

Purpose The main aim of this paper is to introduce the articles of this theme issue and explain the pertinence of the strategic question. Design/methodology/approach A brief context for the strategic question is provided, as well as the issue alignment and a content analysis of the articles selected. Findings The profile of current and future tourists is changing. Travel consumers now want and expect accurate information to guide their choices, and these are increasingly based on quality, experimentation, willingness to undertake active holidays and to travel to sites with diverse and unique tourism products. Practical implications Collectively, the articles in this theme issue provide rich insights on key trends impacting the worldwide tourism industry, as well as suggestions on how to explore the opportunities arising from the highly competitive tourism markets. Proposals on scanning the tourism business environment are also presented and their importance discussed and illustrated. Originality/value From various angles of analysis, the final articles for this issue explore the trends and issues affecting the tourism industry, as well as approaches to scan the tourism business environment.

Purpose – The purpose of this paper is to take the emergence of the knowledge mobilization as an opportunity to develop an understanding of needs for catching up appropriate knowledge application in SMEs in the Republic of Croatia, Poland and the UK. It draws upon the “frame mobilization” literature, which illuminates the role that acts as interpretation play in instigating, promoting and legitimating collective action with aim to provide “quality entrepreneurial education”. Design/methodology/approach – A questionnaire survey based on a literature review built by Stimulating Learning for Ideas to Market (SLIM) project partner was employed to test the given perspective. A total of 380 businesses completed the survey from 12 to 20, November 2013. Participants have different profiles, act in diverse roles and industrial sectors. Identification of appropriate types of support, education, training and advice was made to recognize what small businesses need and can use to improve their operations. Findings – Empirical research evidence conducted among entrepreneurs, 213 were from Croatia, 100 were from Poland and 67 were from the UK, respectively. Results identified the nature of management education according SMEs’ needs to increase innovative activities and intellectual property adapting a more business-like approach, scanning the horizon and identifying new markets and opportunities for growth. It discussed the impacts of formal and informal ways of intellectual property protection in sales and exports market (SLIM) project partner was employed to test the given perspective. Research limitations/implications – Main limitation lay in unequal sample response among countries. However, results proofed very similar response in all questions among three countries even size, entrepreneurial development, GDP or historical background are highly different. Practical implications – Therefore, the original contribution of the paper lies in the authors’ empirical investigations into the current thinking and practice of existing entrepreneurs by suggesting some implications of this point, which should be of interest to all stakeholders who design courses in IP and who engage in social mobilization. Social implications – There are important organizational culture barriers with this target group, such as the emphasis on the need to publish and an unstable/unavailable IP budget. The integration of IP tools into curricula is an important step to improving the use of IP tools by future researchers. There is an indisputable case for integrating IP as an R & D output and increasing the valuation of IP for academic promotion. Originality/value – This paper illustrates the current challenges on SMEs’ educational needs and intellectual property rights carried out in among 380 entrepreneurs across the Republic of Croatia, the Republic of Poland and the UK. Most intriguing suggestion, perhaps, is that the role knowledge cooperation with universities may play as a breaking point to fully exploit SMEs’ innovative potential. Surprisingly, needs for establishing a classification of diverse IP-management and collaboration-management tools useful in university-enterprise collaborations, within a general context of IP and open innovation has not been recognized.

Purpose This paper aims to depict an extensive and cohesive picture of future banking’s dimensions and components. Design/methodology/approach A two-step qualitative approach has been applied. First, an extensive scanning has been carried out to identify megatrends and best practices. Second, applying meta-synthesis analysis, more than 186 up-to-date references were strategically scanned to elicit dimensions and components of future banking. Findings This research has had twofold findings. The direct and explicit results were the main dimensions of banking in the future: information technology, employees, customers, diversified services, organizational structures and farsightedness. The implicit findings were also remarkable: many entities are thinking about future of banking, mostly in financial technology dimension; the departure from traditional banking has recently been accelerated; and more works need to be done to have a comprehensive map of banking in the future. Research limitations/implications As the research methodology was based upon a literature review, it lacks covering some hidden or less flashing dimensions such as future business models, merging between banks and other financial or technological firms in advance, the evolution of organizational structures, etc., which would be captured by applying other methods such as expert Delphi panels. Practical implications Planners in the banking industry can benefit from the direct findings. They may extend the results, customize and prioritize the components to provide a competitive business model in the future market of banking. Originality/value The novelty of this paper lies in a cohesive representation of future banking dimensions and components, which is created by a systematic methodology and broad literature review.

This study aimed to evaluate the occluding/remineralization performance and resistance to acid attacks of the mineralization layer formed by a tooth-desensitizing gel containing amorphous calcium magnesium phosphate (ACMP) particles and compare it to six other desensitizing products available on the market. Similar comprehensive studies are few and there is especially a lack of studies that are up to date. A dentin-disc model was used for in vitro evaluation of the desensitizing toothpastes/gels. Application of the products was performed twice daily for seven days. One set of specimens were evaluated using scanning electron microscopy (SEM) directly after the final treatment and another set was evaluated after an acid challenge, exposing specimens to 2 wt% citric acid. The ACMP desensitizing gel was the only product resulting in complete occlusion by the formation of mineralized material on the dentin surface and inside the tubules. Particle deposition was dominant after treatment with the other desensitizing products, with little or no mineralization, resulting in partial occlusion only. Sensodyne Repair & Protect and Oral-B Pro-Expert showed the highest resistance toward acid attacks. Material inside the tubules remained relatively unaffected by acid attacks in all specimens. The results in this study indicated a great variability among the occluding agents in terms of occlusion and acid resistance of the mineralization layer. The high degree of occlusion and intra-tubular mineralization that could mitigate the effect of acid solubilization indicate that the ACMP desensitizing gel may be a superior option for the treatment of dentin hypersensitivity.

Purpose Public policy requires effective identification of the current and emerging issues being faced in industry and beyond. This paper aims to identify a set of key issues currently facing digital communications and reviews their relevance for the strategic provision of infrastructure, particularly within the UK context. Design/methodology/approach The methodology focusses on taking a horizon-scanning approach to obtaining current information from a range of authoritative decision makers across industry, government and academia. After structuring the issues identified, these areas are explored by a multi-disciplinary research team covering engineering, economics and computer science. Findings Five key categories were identified including future demand; coverage and capacity; policy and regulation; economics and business models; and technology. The results are reported for both fixed and wireless networks. Shared issues affecting the wider digital ecosystem are also identified including Brexit, connecting remote areas and the degree to which the economics of infrastructure allows for building multiple overlapping infrastructures. The authors find that future demand uncertainty is one of the major issues affecting the digital communications sector driven by rigid willingness-to-pay, weak revenue and an increasing shift from fixed to wireless technologies. Policy must create the market conditions that encourage the entry of new competitors with innovative thinking and disruptive business models. Research limitations/implications A limitation of the analysis is that it is quite UK-focussed; hence, further research could broaden this analysis to assessing issues at a continental or global scale. Originality/value The value of this paper originates from the breadth of the expert elicitation exercise carried out to gather the initial set of issues, followed by the analysis of this data by a multi-disciplinary team of researchers. The results direct a future research agenda, as many issues are indicative of a lack of existing evidence to support effective decision-making.

Purpose Ankle–foot orthoses (AFOs) are assistive devices prescribed for a number of physical and neurological disorders affecting the mobility of the lower limbs. Additive manufacturing has been explored as an alternative process; however, it has proved to be inefficient cost-wise. This work aims to explore the possibilities of generating modular AFO elements, namely, calf, shank and footplate, with the localized composite reinforcement that aids in the optimization of the device in terms of functionality, aesthetics, rigidity and cost. Design/methodology/approach The conventional lower leg–foot orthosis configuration depends on thermoforming a polymer sheet around a mortar cast with a trademark firmness relying upon the trim-line with the inalienable plan restrictions. In manufacturing of AFO the expert, i.e. orthotist's, guidance is used. Polypropylene and polyethylene material is used in fabrication of AFO to complete all-round reported points of interest over the ordinary outlines, yet their mechanical conduct under administration conditions cannot be effectively anticipated. Findings AFOs made of polypropylene and polyethylene material are available in the market, which are used by children of age 3-5 years. With the existing AFO design, patients are facing excessive heating and sweating problems during long-term usage. After feedback from patients and orthotists (who prescribed AFO to patients), an attempt has been made to solve the problem with a new and improved AFO design of AFO by using finite element modelling and stress analysis. Also, the results indicate that the new design is similar to the actual product design. Originality/value This work introduces the low-cost 3D printing with reinforcement approach as an alternative route for the designing and manufacturing of orthotic devices with complex shapes. It is expected that new applications add-up to increase the body of knowledge about the behaviour of such products which will mix both areas, composite theory and additive manufacturing. This study investigated the fields related to 3D scanning, 3D printing and computer-aided designing for the manufacturing of a customized AFO.

The discovery and interpretation of X-ray diffraction from crystals by von Laue, Henry and Lawrence Bragg about a century ago marked the beginning of a new era for visualizing the three-dimensional (3D) atomic structures in crystals. In 1999, the methodology of X-ray crystallography was extended to allow the structure determination of non-crystalline specimens, which is known as coherent diffraction imaging (CDI) or lensless imaging. In CDI, the diffraction pattern of a non-crystalline sample or a nanocrystal is first measured and then directly phased to obtain an image. The well-known phase problem is solved by combining the oversampling method with iterative algorithms. In the first part of the talk, I will present the principle of CDI and illustrate some applications using synchrotron radiation and X-ray free electron lasers (XFELs). In the second part of the talk, I will present a general tomographic method for determining the 3D local structure of materials at atomic resolution. By combining scanning transmission electron microscopy (STEM) with a novel data acquisition and image reconstruction method known as equally sloped tomography (EST), we achieve electron tomography at 2.4 Å resolution and observe nearly all the atoms in a multiply-twinned Pt nanoparticle. We find the existence of atomic steps at 3D twin boundaries of the Pt nanoparticle and, for the first time, image the 3D core structure of edge and screw dislocations in materials at atomic resolution. We expect this atomic resolution electron tomography method to find application in solid state physics, materials sciences, nanoscience, chemistry and biology.

The demand for minute-scale forecasts of wind power is continuously increasing with the growing penetration of renewable energy into the power grid, as grid operators need to ensure grid stability in the presence of variable power generation. For this reason, IEA Wind Tasks 32 and 36 together organized a workshop on “Very Short-Term Forecasting of Wind Power” in 2018 to discuss different approaches for the implementation of minute-scale forecasts into the power industry. IEA Wind is an international platform for the research community and industry. Task 32 tries to identify and mitigate barriers to the use of lidars in wind energy applications, while IEA Wind Task 36 focuses on improving the value of wind energy forecasts to the wind energy industry. The workshop identified three applications that need minute-scale forecasts: (1) wind turbine and wind farm control, (2) power grid balancing, (3) energy trading and ancillary services. The forecasting horizons for these applications range from around 1 s for turbine control to 60 min for energy market and grid control applications. The methods that can be applied to generate minute-scale forecasts rely on upstream data from remote sensing devices such as scanning lidars or radars, or are based on point measurements from met masts, turbines or profiling remote sensing devices. Upstream data needs to be propagated with advection models and point measurements can either be used in statistical time series models or assimilated into physical models. All methods have advantages but also shortcomings. The workshop’s main conclusions were that there is a need for further investigations into the minute-scale forecasting methods for different use cases, and a cross-disciplinary exchange of different method experts should be established. Additionally, more efforts should be directed towards enhancing quality and reliability of the input measurement data.

PurposeThis paper aims to discuss a foresight study conducted in Singapore’s national R&D agency to help science and technology decision makers identify key capability areas of R&D investment to support the manufacturing industry’s growth in the country and the region.Design/methodology/approachUsing horizon scanning, scenario analysis and expert opinion, nine capabilities are identified as core areas to be developed to support the country’s future growth of product-service systems.FindingsThe results of a Delphi survey involving 30 industry and academic thought leaders recommend priorities of these capabilities. This paper concludes with a discussion of the study implications for theory, research and practice in the domain of servitisation and product-service systems.Research limitations/implicationsThe foresight study presented here on the future of servitisation in Singapore demonstrates one of the first fully fledged applications of foresight in constructing a coherent vision of future product-service system markets. In this study, the authors applied systemic foresight methodology (SFM) comprising the first six phases: initiation (scoping), intelligence (scanning), imagination (scenarios), integration (priorities), interpretation (strategies) and implementation (action).For future research, an ideal step would be to proceed with the final phase of the SFM, impact, to develop indicators for servitisation and to monitor and evaluate the transition process.Practical implicationsManufacturing and services are no longer distinct concepts with a clear divide. Manufacturing firms not only become more service dependent but also produce and provide services for their consumers. This transformation towards servitisation implies fundamental re-organisation of the production and management practices. Furthermore, through new business models, new and loyal customers will be gained, which will in turn bring additional income, while making the companies less prone to economic and business fluctuations.Social implicationsThe results of this study have practical implications for policymakers of public and private sectors that are interested in playing a key role in future product-service system innovation. These have implications for developing the human and intellectual capital that are required for supporting the future innovation. Institutes of higher learning and vocational institutes should also consider incorporating new curricula and modules to build the capabilities for knowledge creation and transfer.Originality/valueThe findings of the present study on strategic growth areas and relevant critical capabilities provide new directions for research in the field of servitisation. Among the nine capabilities identified, the top three were advanced customer intelligence capability, socio-physical service quality, traceability and maintainability and integrated strategic decision-making. From the results, it is apparent that advanced customer intelligence capability is both an area of importance to Singapore and the world.

Goal. The purpose of the work is to develop an aerial photography complex based on a DJI S1000 helicopter UAV for aerial photography, which includes a laser scanner (LS) and a digital camera (CPC). Method. For several decades, aerial photography has been an effective tool for geodetic works, geophysical surveys and various types of monitoring. On the other hand, the use of not only digital imaging, but also laser scanning of objects allows to maximize the accuracy of obtaining the coordinates of points on the ground and eliminate such a process as plan-height binding in the field, which occupies more than 80 % of field work that is, much cheaper the process of creating cartographic materials. In addition, the use of laser scanners on board unmanned aerial vehicles helps to solve a number of scientific and applied problems in various fields, such as engineering research, environmental monitoring, landscape research and modeling, construction, architecture, archeology and more. Comprehensive study, research and monitoring of the environment involves the availability and use of highly efficient modern technologies, special software for data processing and analysis and qualified human resources. Aerial laser scanners are the latest high-precision technology for obtaining data about the object by noncontact method and have a multi-purpose purpose. I have been actively using them in the world since the early 2000s. They have a number of advantages over traditional aerial photography. Drugs are manufactured by the world’s leading companies, they are available on the market and are in great demand among foreign specialists. Unfortunately, in Ukraine, airborne laser scanners are used in limited quantities to perform special tasks with the involvement of foreign experts. In this area we have a significant lag compared to other European countries. Therefore, the acquisition and application of such a software and technology complex and UAV will help solve and accelerate the solution of many important scientific and applied problems in Ukraine, as well as increase the potential, opportunities and prestige in domestic and world science and practice. Results. A mock-up model of installation and implementation of Velodyne VLP-16 on a DJI S1000 helicopter UAV has been developed. The authors analyzed the known systems and created the best option for connecting and connecting the elements, which made it possible to simplify the layout of the devices, which in turn made it possible to reduce the cost of the proposed complex. Scientific novelty and practical significance. For the first time in Ukraine, a method of installing a helicopter-type UAV was developed and proposed. With the help of an airborne laser scanning system installed on board an unmanned aerial vehicle of helicopter type it is possible to solve a number of important scientific and applied tasks, such as: monitoring the technical condition of large and hard-to-reach structures – nuclear, hydro and thermal power plants, power lines, etc. ; monitoring the condition of roads, detecting places of surface damage and other dangerous places in order to prevent car accidents; detection of damage to forests and agricultural lands; observation and prevention of landslides in mountains and industrial quarries, places of soil erosion; monitoring of water resources, changes in contours and heights of the coastal strip; detection of roof defects, deformations, wall cracks on highrise buildings for architectural measurements, 3D modeling, documentation and preservation of cultural heritage sites; assistance in archaeological exploration to identify archaeological sites and study artifacts. In addition, peripheral drugs can be installed on other moving objects (cars, railcars, boats, etc.) and scanning from fixed bases in stationary conditions.

In the current study, the photooxidation reaction of toluene (C7H8) was investigated in a Potential Aerosol Mass Oxidation Flow Reactor (PAM OFR). The hydroxyl radical (OH) exposure of toluene in the PAM OFR ranged from 0.4 to 1.4 × 1012 molec cm−3 s, which is equivalent to 3 to 12 days of atmospheric oxidation. A proton transfer reaction-mass spectrometer (PTR-MS) and a scanning mobility particle sizer (SMPS) were used to study the gas-phase products formed and particle number changes of the oxidation reaction in PAM OFR. The secondary organic aerosol (SOA) formed in the PAM OFR was also collected for off-line chemical analysis. Key gas-phase reaction products of toluene, including glyoxal, methyl glyoxal, unsaturated carbonyl compounds, and benzaldehyde, were identified by the PTR-MS. Second generation products, including acetic acid, formaldehyde, formic acid, and acetaldehyde, were also detected. By comparing the mass spectrums obtained under different OH exposures and relative humidity (RH), changes in the two parameters have minimal effects on the composition of gas-phase products formed, expect for the spectrum obtained at OH exposure of 0.4 × 1012 cm−3 s and RH = 17%, which is slightly different from other spectrums. SMPS results showed that particle mass concentration increases with increasing OH exposure, while particle number concentration first increases and then decreases with increasing OH exposure. This result probably suggests the formation of oligomers at high OH exposure conditions. Off-line chemical analysis of the SOA sample was dominated by C4 diacids, including malic acid, citramalic acid, and tartaric acid. The well-known toluene SOA marker 2,3-Dihydroxy-4-oxopentanoic acid, as well as 2,3-dihydroxyglutaric acid, which has not been identified in previous toluene photooxidation experiments, were also detected in the SOA sample. Our results showed good agreements with the results of previous smog chamber studies of toluene photooxidation reaction, and they suggested that using PAM OFR for studies of oxidation reaction of different VOCs can be atmospherically relevant.

Abstract Background: In 2012, the European Medicines Agency (EMA) recommended the use of progression-free survival (PFS) 2 as a secondary endpoint in trials evaluating maintenance treatment in hematology oncology trials. PFS2 is defined by the EMA as time from randomization to objective tumor progression on next-line treatment or death from any cause. Potential benefits of PFS2 may be found in cases where experimental treatments appear to improve PFS but not overall survival (OS), particularly in situations with improved survival but where measurement of OS is confounded, for example when drugs are trialed in early lines of therapy and subsequently coupled with improved salvage treatments. However, in practice the utility of this endpoint may seem unclear in cases where tumor cells undergo molecular or microenvironment changes without obvious clinical progression. Currently, the US Food and Drug Administration (FDA) does not recognize this end point and in our experience, healthcare providers are unsure of its definition or value. Objective: To understand the current definitions and limitations of PFS2 from a review of the literature and registered clinical trials in the context of PFS. Methods: We undertook a pragmatic literature review relating to PFS and PFS2. Sources investigated included peer-reviewed literature, clinicaltrials.gov, horizon scanning and health technology appraisal (HTA) activities, and 'grey literature' sources. After review of the search hits, information was grouped according to the therapy area and type of information and the main themes and questions identified. Results: We identified a range of specific challenges and issues regarding each endpoint. For PFS, we noted ongoing debates across disease areas. These principally related to the interpretation of clinical trial evidence: expert clinical opinion routinely highlighted concerns about statistical issues and bias arising from censoring, missing data, subjectivity and assessment time. Two other common issues were the need for adequate sample size to detect differences in OS and a lack of evidence relating prolonged PFS to better health-related quality of life (HRQoL). For PFS2, more basic challenges and needs were identified than for PFS. Only the EMA provides a clear definition; the US Food and Drug Administration (FDA) and other regulatory agencies do not appear to have a definition or policy regarding PFS2 at this time. On the other hand, PFS2 is increasingly incorporated into oncology trials as a secondary endpoint in both hematologic and solid tumors. As of 1 August 2016, there were 41 oncology trials registered on clinicaltrials.gov where PFS2 is included. Of these, 20 trials have been registered or updated since January 2015. The implications of routinely generating and using PFS2 data for regulatory and market access purposes therefore are currently unclear. Most of the current information is related to PFS2 data in trials of lenalidomide in multiple myeloma. Based on commentaries and discussions in the literature, there is an ongoing need to understand the clinical and economic rationales for using PFS2 data to support benefit-risk assessments (e.g. relating effect sizes to clinical outcomes) and to determine how best to communicate these potential benefits meaningfully. There is also a need to understand how PFS2 may relate to patient-centered benefits, such as HRQoL, which may help to identify patient preferences in the context of treatment choice. This information has been used to develop a physician questionnaire that would help identify insights and opinions about PFS2 in the following areas: (1) use of surrogate endpoints, (2) treatment choice in relapsing cancers, (3) implications of PFS2 for clinical practice and (4) future needs for PFS2. Results from this primary research will be presented subsequently. Conclusions: PFS2 is increasingly included as a secondary endpoint in oncology trials assessing the benefits of maintenance or sequential treatments. However, there is limited guidance from regulatory bodies on using and interpreting PFS2 data even though there are post-approval implications regarding potential positioning of drugs within treatment pathways. To date, the EMA is the only regulatory agency that has considered the relevance of PFS2 as a clinical endpoint. The clinical importance of PFS2 needs greater understanding to help physicians apply the data in patient management. Disclosures Solaman: Celgene: Consultancy. Walker:Celgene: Consultancy, Honoraria; Janssen: Consultancy, Honoraria; Takeda: Consultancy, Honoraria; Amgen: Consultancy, Honoraria. Davies:Janssen: Consultancy, Honoraria; Takeda: Consultancy, Honoraria; Celgene: Consultancy, Honoraria.

Abstract Abstract 3684 Purpose: Positron emission tomography (PET) is being established as a valuable marker to guide the use of additional radiotherapy (RT) after effective chemotherapy in patients with advanced stage Hodgkin Lymphoma (HL). The present analysis compares the prognostic impact of PET with conventional imaging methods (CIM). Methods: A prospective cohort of 739 patients with advanced stage HL treated within the GHSG HD15 trial who achieved at least partial remission and presented with persistent mass ≥2.5 cm after 6–8 cycles of BEACOPP chemotherapy underwent PET scanning at one of 37 participating GHSG PET centers. A central multidisciplinary panel consisting of experts from medical oncology, radiology, radiation oncology, and nuclear medicine reviewed PET and CT scans as well as available conventional X-rays. This panel decided on the need of additional radiotherapy (30Gy to residual masses) if PET was positive according to standard criteria, or no further treatment if PET was negative. Prognosis was evaluated using progression free survival (PFS) measured from the panel decision; groups were compared using the log rank test. Potential prognostic factors were investigated using ROC analysis and logistic regression. The latter analysis included 710 patients with progression, relapse or at least one year of follow-up after PET review without tumor recurrence. Findings: The 548 PET negative of 739 patients (74%) had a 4-year PFS of 91.5%. In contrast, the 191 PET positive patients (26%) had a 4-year PFS of 86.1% (p=0.022). Compared to PET, CIM would have resulted in a different treatment recommendation for 28% of patients. CIM was unable to separate patients by risk of recurrence, both, for all patients and in PET negative or PET positive subgroups. Concordance between local and central review was observed in 90% of cases with only 3 recurrences so far in the 10% (n=71) discordant patients. Half of the discordant patients (n=36) were judged PET positive by central review and accordingly had additional radiotherapy. When investigating other potential indicators of response, ROC analysis showed that only the relative reduction of residual tumors was significantly associated with outcome (AUC 0.65, 95% CI 0.57 to 0.73), while other factors such as the largest diameter of the residual tumor at initial staging or restaging as well as IPS were not. When the 54 PET positive patients who had a tumor reduction of less than or equal to 40% were compared to those 135 PET positive patients having a tumor reduction of more than 40%, the OR for recurrence within a year was 5.6 (95% CI 2.1 to 15.2). However, even in this high-risk group, most of the patients did not relapse: the 4-year PFS was 72.8% and most events occurred in the first year after PET review. The low risk group had a 4-year PFS comparable to the rate of PET negative patients (92%). However, 94% of these patients were irradiated, while more than 98% of PET negative patients were not. Both PET negative groups had favorable 4-year rates of 89.4 (≤ 40% reduction) and 92.4% (more than 40% reduction). Conclusion: The rate of concordance between local and central PET review in the present analysis was 90%. While morphological imaging alone did not sufficiently predict PFS, the magnitude of tumor shrinkage may help to identify those PET positive patients at higher risk for progression or relapse despite additional radiotherapy. Since the risk for relapse is highest in the first year after treatment, maintenance treatment should be discussed for this rather small group of patients. Disclosures: Engert: Takeda, Millennium: Honoraria, Research Funding. Borchmann:Millenium The Takeda Oncology Company: Research Funding; Takeda Pharma GmbH: Travel Grants, Travel Grants Other.

IntroductionPharmacologic measures to prevent venous thromboembolism were first routinely incorporated into the practice of general surgeons, urologists, and orthopedic surgeons in 1975, after the landmark International Multicentre Trial was published.1 This randomized trial allocated 4,121 surgical patients either to unfractionated heparin 5,000 U, beginning 2 hours preoperatively and continuing every 8 hours for 7 days, or to no heparin. Among the heparin-treated group, two patients had massive pulmonary embolism (PE) verified upon autopsy, compared with 16 among the no heparin group.These dramatic differences were reinforced by a subsequent meta-analysis of 15,598 surgical patients in randomized trials of venous thromboembolism prevention with low fixed dose (“minidose”) heparin.2 Those assigned to heparin prophylaxis had a two-thirds reduction in predominantly asymptomatic deep vein thrombosis (DVT), a one-third reduction in nonfatal pulmonary embolism, and a marked reduction in fatal PE (19 in heparin patients compared with 55 among controls). Based upon the results of these studies, unfractionated heparin in a dose of 5,000 U twice or three times daily, beginning 2 hours preoperatively, became the standard pharmacologic approach to perioperative prevention of DVT and PE.Despite the intensive study of venous thromboembolism in thousands of surgical patients, the investigation of DVT and PE developing as a complication among medical patients hospitalized for other primary conditions has languished, except for in stroke and myocardial infarction patients. Several fundamental issues are apparent. First, the incidence of venous thromboembolism among hospitalized patients has not been precisely elucidated. Second, subsets of patients with potentially the greatest risk, such as those in medical intensive care units, warrant special attention. Third, the failure rates of conventional low-dose heparin prophylaxis and mechanical prophylaxis with intermittent pneumatic compression boots have not been adequately defined among contemporary hospitalized medical patients. Fourth, the Food and Drug Administration has not approved low molecular weight heparin (LMWH) for prophylaxis against venous thromboembolism in medical patients. Such approval awaits the design, execution, and analysis of appropriate clinical trials in this understudied population.An Israeli study undertaken more than two decades ago provided intriguing evidence to support the concept that mortality reduction could be achieved in hospitalized general medical patients with low-dose heparin prophylaxis.3 This hypothesis was tested in 1,358 consecutive patients greater than 40 years of age who were admitted through the emergency department to the medical wards of an acute care hospital. Eligible patients with even numbered hospital records were assigned to receive 5,000 U low-dose heparin twice daily. Those with odd numbered records served as controls. Among patients allocated to heparin, there was a 31% reduction in mortality from 10.9% in the control group to 7.8% in the heparin group. The reduction in mortality in the heparin-treated group was evident from the first day, and the difference increased significantly and consistently with time until the end of the study period. Because the death rate was highest in the first 2 days in both groups, the reduction in mortality in absolute numbers was greatest on those 2 days. However, the relative mortality reduction remained stable throughout the study period.While low-dose heparin was demonstrated in the 1970s to be effective and safe for the prevention of venous thromboembolism in many thousands of surgical patients, only miniscule studies were carried out among medical patients during that era. For example, the Royal Infirmary in Glasgow studied 100 medical patients hospitalized with heart failure or chest infection.4 Patients were randomized to receive either heparin 5,000 U every 8 hours or to receive no specific prophylaxis measures. The diagnosis of DVT was established by iodine-125 fibrinogen leg scanning, which was undertaken in all study patients within 24 hours of hospitalization and repeated every other day for 14 days or until hospital discharge. The results in this group of hospitalized medical patients were dramatic. Among controls, 26% developed DVT, whereas the rate was only 4% among those receiving low-dose heparin.In a trial in 1986 that focused on octogenarian medical inpatients, a placebo-controlled, randomized, double-blind study5 utilized a once daily low molecular weight heparin (Pharmuka 10169, subsequently renamed enoxaparin). The dose was 60 mg injected subcutaneously once daily. The potential development of DVT was assessed by iodine-125 fibrinogen leg scanning in all patients. The trial lasted 10 days, and 270 patients were enrolled. The majority of subjects suffered from heart failure, respiratory diseases, stroke, or cancer. Of 263 evaluable patients, 9% in the placebo group developed DVT, compared with 3% of those receiving LMWH prophylaxis. Except for injection site hematomas, bleeding complications were not appreciably increased in the LMWH group.A trial involving 11,693 medical patients with infectious diseases randomized patients to receive either 5,000 U of heparin every 12 hours or no prophylaxis.6 Although patients were treated for a maximum of 3 weeks, follow-up was carried out for a maximum of 2 months. Heparin prophylaxis delayed the occurrence of fatal PE from a median of 12 days to a median of 28 days. Far more nonfatal thromboembolic complications in the control group (116 vs. 70, p = 0.0012). However, the prespecified primary endpoint was clinically relevant, autopsy-verified PE. In this respect, there was virtually no difference between the two groups: 15 heparin treated and 16 control group patients had autopsy-verified fatal PEs. This large trial, which yielded disappointing results, may have been flawed had the following study design flaws: 1) a lack of statistical power to detect a difference between the two groups in the primary endpoint, 2) the restriction of heparin prophylaxis to 3 weeks, and 3) an inadequate dose of heparin. (Keep in mind that the International Multicentre trial1 used low-dose heparin every 8 hours, not every 12 hours.)In the past decade, low molecular weight heparin has supplanted unfractionated heparin for prophylaxis against venous thromboembolism in total hip replacement7 and has proved superior both to warfarin8,9 and to graduated compression stockings10 for total knee replacement. This does not necessarily mean, however, that low molecular weight heparin will prove superior to unfractionated heparin, warfarin, or graduated compression stockings for prophylaxis of hospitalized medical patients.The MEDENOX trial of enoxaparin prophylaxis in medical patients completed enrollment of approximately 1,100 subjects in July 1998. Patients were randomized to one of three groups in a double-blind controlled trial: enoxaparin 20 mg once daily, enoxaparin 40 mg once daily, or placebo. The principal endpoint is the incidence of DVT as assessed by contrast venography on approximately day 10 of hospitalization. The results of this crucially important trial which favored enoxaparin 40 mg once daily, will be presented at the August 1999 XVII Congress of the International Society on Thrombosis and Haemostasis.Also, the Veterans Affairs Cooperative Studies Program has organized a randomized trial to study the effect of low-dose heparin prophylaxis on mortality among hospitalized general medical patients.11 Results will be available in about 5 years.Intermittent pneumatic compression devices constitute an alternative, nonpharmacologic approach to prevent PE and DVT. Though effective, special care must be taken to ensure that these devices are worn as prescribed.12 Frequent removal and nonuse can be problematic, especially in patients outside of an intensive care unit. In addition to the mechanical effect of increasing venous blood flow in the legs, these devices appear to cause an increase in endogenous fibrinolysis, due to stimulation of the vascular endothelial wall.13-15 It is possible that for hospitalized medical patients, combined mechanical and pharmacologic prophylaxis will find a special niche. For example, in certain surgical subspecialties, combined prophylaxis modalities are routinely used. Urologists combine intermittent pneumatic compression boots and adjusted-dose warfarin following radical prostatectomy.16 Neurosurgeons employ compression boots plus fixed, low-dose heparin in craniotomy patients with malignancies.17 The medical intensive care unit setting remains one of the last frontiers where the culture of routine venous thromboembolism prophylaxis is not well developed. Prophylaxis should be part of the standard admission orders, just like H2-blockers or carafate are almost always ordered routinely to prevent stress ulcers. Intensive care unit patients pose special challenges when planning prophylaxis strategies. First, these patients are often bleeding overtly or are admitted with thrombocytopenia. Accordingly, heparin or warfarin are often contraindicated. Second, leg ulcers, wounds, or peripheral arterial occlusive disease will preclude the use of intermittent pneumatic compression devices. With these problems in mind, it is useful to examine the current state of prophylaxis among intensive care unit patients.In 1994, the Venous Thromboembolism Research Group at Brigham and Women’s Hospital found that only one-third of consecutive patients admitted to the Medical Intensive Care Unit received prophylaxis against PE and DVT.18 In a subsequent survey of this population, one-third of patients developed DVT, and half of these were proximal leg DVTs. Overall, 56% received prophylaxis.19 Surprisingly, prophylaxis appeared to have little impact on DVT rates. The overall DVT rate in patients who had received either heparin or pneumatic compression prophylaxis was 34%, compared with 32% in patients who did not receive any prophylaxis. This observation should be interpreted cautiously because these patients were not randomly allocated to prophylaxis.There is currently no consensus on optimal prophylaxis for medical intensive care unit patients.20 Two prior trials have failed to show the superiority of low molecular weight heparin compared with unfractionated low-dose heparin among hospitalized medical patients.21,22 These two trials may have administered subtherapeutic doses of LMWH.We have just completed a multicenter, randomized, controlled trial of heparin 5,000 U twice daily (“miniheparin”) versus enoxaparin 30 mg twice daily among Medical Intensive Care Unit patients. This multicentered study has the principal endpoint of venous thrombosis proven by ultrasound examination. Approximately, almost 300 patients have been enrolled. We expect to present the results of this trial at the August 1999 XVII Congress of the International Society on Thrombosis and Haemostasis.

Tracking meaningful insights about companies’ exposures to high risk of failure in competitive markets, intelligence studies in business should listen to practitioners’ signals and act in providing decision making support to systematic scanning for valuable information. In order to gain robustness in confronting unexpected events in real markets, companies should adopt an unstructured learning perspective with maturity assessment tools, while purposely pooling strategic intelligence (SI) skills. By bridging organizational maturity modeling with a future orientation stream of literature and intelligence studies in business, this conceptual research aims to highlight a genuine Strategic Intelligence Capability Maturity Model (SI CMM), capable of purposely addressing the challenge of aligning detective and anticipatory organizational capabilities. The conceptual model highlights the degree of preparedness of four SI profiles behaviors (intelligence provider, vigilant learner, opportunity captor and opportunity defender – previously developed by the authors) against seven levels of maturity. The SI CMM framework outlines both conditioned scanning capabilities (the first five SI readiness levels) and enablers to anticipate future market trends (the last two SI readiness levels). The novel approach of the strategic intelligence readiness framework supplies companies with a valuable organizational learning tool to close the skills gap through an opportunity provider profile. The main features lie in coordination and sharing SI common knowledge to enhance preparedness in forward-looking competitive pressures. The conceptual framework invites academia and the community of intelligence experts in business to evaluate the relevance of the new conceptualization, clarity of constructs and complementary nature of correlation and causation with the proposed SI CMM model

AbstractThis study explores the magnitude of two sources of error that are introduced when extracorporeal bullet trajectories are based on post-mortem computed tomography (PMCT) and/or surface scanning of a body. The first source of error is caused by an altered gravitational pull on soft tissue, which is introduced when a body is scanned in another position than it had when hit. The second source of error is introduced when scanned images are translated into a virtual representation of the victim’s body. To study the combined magnitude of these errors, virtual shooting trajectories with known vertical angles through five “victims” (live test persons) were simulated. The positions of the simulated wounds on the bodies were marked, with the victims in upright positions. Next, the victims were scanned in supine position, using 3D surface scanning, similar to a body’s position when scanned during a PMCT. Seven experts, used to working with 3D data, were asked to determine the bullet trajectories based on the virtual representations of the bodies. The errors between the known and determined trajectories were analysed and discussed. The results of this study give a feel for the magnitude of the introduced errors and can be used to reconstruct actual shooting incidents using PMCT data.

Purpose Facility maintenance is critical for the operation and management of petrochemical plants. Maintenance work completed with higher productivity eventually contributes to better plant performance. Mechanization reduces workforce demand and can increase the productivity of maintenance work. The purpose of this paper is to assess the current mechanization level of the maintenance activities and then identify applicable technology solutions for productivity improvement in petrochemical facility maintenance. Design/methodology/approach This paper utilizes a mechanization level assessment method for global maintenance data collection and analysis. Subject matter experts’ interviews and market scanning were used to identify corresponding technology solutions. Findings The study discovered numerous maintenance activities with lower mechanization levels and identified more than 50 technology solutions applicable for maintenance productivity improvement. Originality/value This paper provides a roadmap for petrochemical maintenance work participants to assess their mechanization level status quo and identify technology solutions for higher maintenance work productivity. The method adopted is replicable and customizable for further applications with different plant conditions in the petrochemical sector and other industrial contexts.

Stem Cell Sciences to Commercialize Therapeutic Cloning for Human Medicine. Metabolic Licenses New Drug for Iron Overload Diseases. Epitan Completes Phase I/II of Melanotan Clinical Trial. Bionomics and Genmab to Jointly Develop Human Antibodies for Angiogenesis Targets. MSD Launches New Painkiller in China. Dupont China to Focus on Food and Nutrition Business in 2002. China Exports HIFU Knife to the UK. Shanghai AJ Nano-Science to Make Scanning Tunneling Microscopes. German-Based GeneScan Sets up Asian Office in Hong Kong. Ranbaxy to Exclusively Market Penwest’s Cardiovascular Drug. Wockhardt and Ranbaxy Form Strategic Business Alliance in US. India’s Cipla in WHO List of AIDS Drug Suppliers. NTT Data to Provide Free Software for Compressing Genome Data. Otsuka and Snow Brand to Establish Clinical Nutrition Joint Venture. Shimadzu to Develop Next-Generation DNA Sequencer. Dong Wha Recognized for Liver Cancer Treatment. Seoul Dairy Children’s Milk Strengthens Immune System. Digital Sleep Smart Sensor to Bring Relief to Chronic Snorers. Plade Develops Computerized Management Tool for Farmers. Compaq to Build Asia-Pacific’s Largest Bio-Supercomputer in Singapore. Cray and Singapore Varsity to Develop Advanced Bioinformatics Software. Thai-Made AIDS Cocktail Drug on Sale Soon. Chokchai Dairy Farm Looking into Livestock Ventures with Malaysia.

Nel presente contributo viene esaminata la scarsa letteratura inerente la fondazione etica dell’attività nel laboratorio biomedico (LBM), elaborata per lo più dagli specialisti di laboratorio. La scansione rivela le seguenti principali posizioni: 1. un approccio di etica procedurale, che rintraccia l’eticità nella laboratoristica sia nello scrupolo e nella trasparenza metodologica sia nella ottimizzazione delle dinamiche relazionali sia all’interno del laboratorio sia tra specialisti di laboratorio e clinici. Si tratta dunque di un’etica in certo modo “intrinseca”, cioè prevalentemente concentrata sull’oggetto materiale dell’attività. 2. Una prospettiva di marca jonasana improntata all’etica della responsabilità, improntata a due cardini: la “consapevolezza” delle conseguenze che al chimico clinico vengono dalle richieste di esami e la verifica dell’intenzionalità degli operatori. 3. L’etica delle virtù. Tale prospettiva postula l’esercizio dell’abito virtuoso da parte dell’operatore di laboratorio come condizione per raggiungere la finalità ultima della laboratoristica biomedica: il benessere del paziente. 4. Il principialismo, noto modello bioetico, peraltro proposto a livello globale da un gruppo di lavoro della International Federation of Clinical Chemistry (IFCC) quale base di discussione per le società specialistiche nazionali. 5. Infine, un’etica centrata sulla persona, ove il richiamo antropologico affianca ed integra i pur necessari compiti tecnici dello specialista di laboratorio. L’articolo si conclude con una disamina critica delle diverse posizioni riscontrate in letteratura. ---------- The paper examines the scarce literature related to the ethical foundation of the activity in the biomedical laboratory (BML), realized mainly by the experts of laboratory. The scanning reveals the followings main positions: 1. a procedural ethics approach, in which the ethics related to the BML is tracked both in the scruple and in the methodological transparency and in the optimization of the relational dynamics both in laboratory and among laboratory and clinicians experts. It concerns therefore with an “intrinsic” ethics, that is predominantly centred on the material object of the activity. 2. A perspective based on Jonas’s perspective marked on ethics of the responsibility, founded on two bases: the “awareness” of the consequences that clinicians chemist could receive from the examination demands and the verification of the intentionality of the operators. 3. Virtue ethics. Such perspective assumes the virtuous habit exercise of the operator of laboratory as condition to achieve the ultimate end of the BML: the patient’s wellbeing 4. Principialism, known as bioethical model, moreover proposed at a global level by a working group of the International Federation of Clinical Chemistry (IFCC) as basis of discussion for the national specialist societies. 5. Finally, an ethics centred on the person, where the anthropological reference helps and integrates the also necessary technical tasks of the laboratory expert. The article ends with a critical examination of the different positions found in literature.

ntroduction: Adolescent idiopathic scoliosis (AIS) is the most frequent spinal deformation. It is assessed by frequent x-ray imaging, exposing patients to frequent radiation, increasing the risk of cancer. Tracked ultrasound imaging produce a three-dimensional visual of the spine without risk. We proposed using an optically tracked handheld USB Interson ultrasound probe, which is much less expensive than the current standard ultrasounds. Methods: A practical setup was developed for scoliosis monitoring. Reference markers were on the patient’s shoulder and the wall to account for patient motion, and simulate the plane of the x-ray detector to allow future comparisons. The optical tracker tracked the markers and ultrasound probe. This was compared to the electromagnetically tracked non-portable Ultrasonix ultrasound. Scanning captured the thoracic and lumbar regions. A three-dimensional image was composited by stacking a series of two-dimensional ultrasound slices in their tracked physical positions. To compare the two-ultrasound setups and ensure the ease of identification, a novice attempted to manually identify transverse processes. These were compared to see if all transverse processes scanned could be marked from both ultrasound setups. Two clinical experts then confirmed the markings were anatomically correct. Results and Conclusions: In all scans 100% of the transverse processes scanned (n = 51) were identified in Interson and Ultrasonix images. Curvatures measured using the Ultrasonix method have been previously validated to curvature measurements from x-ray images. Thus the 100% correspondence of the Interson and Ultrasonix setups indicates this inexpensive method is a promising tool to reduce radiation exposure during scoliosis monitoring.

The brand, by definition, promises the experience of the scan. A quick glance at the exterior (i.e. brand name/image) presumably conveys a host of brand attributes to the shopper. This scanning experience is particularly intriguing when it comes to colour trademarks, for it presumes that the sight of a colour brings individuals to the same set of associations—that purple connotes Cadbury chocolate, for instance, while pink signifies Owens Corning Fiberglass insulation and orange suggests Orange Personal Communications. But there is a complexity to both colour trademarks and this scanning ‘experience’ that demands a closer look; this paper probes the logic of the ‘colour scan’, as well as its significance. Sketching out 1) how the legal ownership of colour alone or colour per se corresponds to and idealises practices of scanning, and 2) how colour trademarks are positioned (in legal and marketing literature) as a means of dealing with information overload, the paper then addresses how the granting of colour marks by the trademark office/courts creates various difficulties—both for competing brands and for colour communication itself. Most problematic about the ‘brand’ colour scan is that it runs counter to the very nature of colour, which bursts free of constraints with its infinite potential to signify. I Granting legal ownership to colour corresponds to and idealises practices of scanning One great thing about colour, argues Martin Lindstrom in his newly published marketing book Brand Sense (2005) is that it contributes to the ‘smashability’ of a brand. Successful brands can be ‘smashed’ like a glass bottle of Coca-Cola and consumers would still recognise the brand from its pieces. Logically, then, marketers should place a ‘signature’ colour at the center of all branding efforts. Trademarking this colour is even better, as it secures the hue as a distinct part of a particular brand’s sensory experience (119). More to the point, it prevents competitors from using the trademarked colour—or any confusingly similar shade—to promote their products. Of course, marketers have long recognised this fact, and the history of the U.S. is dappled with attempts to ‘own’ a colour. Examples range from Leschen & Sons Rope Company’s claim to ‘blue’ woven into wire rope in 1906 and Campbell Soup’s quest to monopolise red and white for soup labels in 1949, to Life Savers’ desire for certain candy wrapper colours in 1950 and Kraft’s application for royal blue on silver solely for its Klondike bars in 1986. In 1990, NutraSweet Co. even sought rights to the spectrum of blue for its sweetener, arguing that “the accepted market understanding is that pastel blue means ‘Equal,’ pink means ‘Sweet ‘N Low’ and yellow means ‘Sugar Twin’” (Kearns, 355ff). All of these requests demonstrate that colour fits the demands of the glance—it is scanworthy—an understanding the U.S. Supreme Court ultimately supported in 1995 in Qualitex Co. v. Jacobson Products Co. when it ruled that colour per se could in fact constitute a legal trademark. Some analysts see a “trademark disaster” looming in colour ownership (Overcamp); its trademarking certainly provides a vivid example of what Carol Rose deems the “propertisation” of seemingly “un-ownable resources” (Rose, 94). But disaster and propertisation aside, colour trademarks suggest the idealised object d’scan; purple, for instance, provides an instant sensory strike, but if the logic of colour trademarks works, purple also connotes a host of very specific meanings. Within the world of confectionaries in the UK, purple means not simply chocolate but chocolate by Cadbury Limited. This is an important point, since the function of a trademark is not merely to distinguish products from one another but also to indicate the source or origin of a product. As such, purple simultaneously embodies both definitions of scan—both the “quick glance” and the “measured study”—because the exteriority of purple (so we are to understand) immediately gives way to the interiority of the brand. Purple’s exteriority singularly connotes the “taste, smoothness and snap characteristic of Cadbury chocolate” in the confectionary sector (Cadbury). Perhaps this is not too much to ask of colour. After all, the Latin colorem “is related to celare, to hide or conceal; in Middle English ‘to colour’ is to embellish or adorn” as well as “to disguise” (Batchelor 52). Perhaps purple really does conceal the ‘source’ of Cadbury Limited, the fact that a certain product in the UK confectionary sector originates with Cadbury. But perhaps (as will be discussed) it conceals something more… II Colour trademarks are positioned as means of dealing with information overload Practices of scanning, suggest the editors of this issue, stem from “the increased number of things to consider and the reduced amount of time to consider them”. Despite the fact that they are not designed to do so1, colour trademarks shine as a golden solution to this problem of information overload, as well as to a variety of other marketing challenges. Observing colour takes no time, it makes consideration easy and it transcends borders, cultures, and language barriers. Colour naturally draws attention. So, if we’re dealing with a saturated marketplace characterised by information overload, the push for colour trademarks actually works to shift the balance of both the overload and the saturation. Today’s aim is for colour saturation, with brighter, bolder, weirder, and signature hues colonising untapped arenas—as per pink Parkay margarine and blue Heinz fries (which failed), and “Funky Purple” and “Blastin’ Green” Heinz EZ Squirt ketchup (which triumphed). Think, too, of crayoned cell phones, fruit-flavored iMacs, or even Air Canada’s Zip airlines, which coloured the runways in September 2002 with its bold palette of blue, fuchsia, orange and green planes. This push to create a distinct ‘signature’ colour is actually a type of colour overload, with unusual hues being stuffed into ordinary arenas. Ironically, colour is equally used to promise a respite for consumers overwhelmed by a complex environment. Orange Personal Communications, the UK’s largest telecommunications provider, reassures customers with the tagline “The Future’s Bright, The Future’s Orange”—a promise that the company visually demonstrates with its legally trademarked orange (Pantone No. 151) used to market its telephones and all things related to its telecommunication services. III Significance of the colour™ scan The obvious problem with the colour™ scan is that its immediate sensory strike may not take consumers to the ‘deeper’ associations of the brand. Trademarks, observes Celia Lury, are “a way of fixing things” (98) but it is difficult to believe that blue or orange or purple (etc.) can be tacked down so neatly. Does the ordinary consumer really associate turquoise with H.J. Heinz in the category of canned beans? And do consumers make these links even though our world is saturated with colourful experiences and products? Businesses argue that they do and frequently roll out survey data, advertising expenditures, and the paid services of visual ‘experts’ to demonstrate and prove its particular colour ‘rights’ to the trademark office and/or court. In this way, corporate players, supported by the courts, authorise specific colour meanings, and discount others. But perhaps colour isn’t smashable. Even corporately ‘authorised’ colour readings (i.e. those that purportedly ‘scan’ in sync with the brand) encounter difficulties because the semiotics of colour continually evades the quest to pin it down. Regardless of its legal status, a trademark does not actually sequester colour or spontaneously combust a precise brand meaning within individuals. Orange Personal Communications may own the rights to Pantone No. 151 (orange) in the UK, but this has not stopped easyMobile from using a very similar shade of orange to promote its nascent cell phone services. Although Orange began court action against easyMobile over the colour orange on February 18, 2005, the legal ‘solution’ to this infringement is unclear. The problem is that easyMobile is not merely an upstart company, but a subsidiary of easyGroup, well known for its signature orange shellacking its entire discount brand—a brand spanning jet planes, car rentals, internet cafes, movie theatres, cruise lines, male toiletries, and pizza delivery. Thus, the company with the rights to orange for its telecommunications has challenged a company that places orange at the very centre of its brand. What is to be done? Should easyGroup be blocked from using its signature colour for one branch of its operations? If so, wouldn’t this be counter to the very logic of branding? Conversely, what about Orange Communications’ “rights to orange” within the realm of mobile phone services? Aren’t they being infringed? The solution is unclear. And the waters are no less muddied by the fact that the ‘trademarked’ orange in question is Pantone No. 151, while easyGroup uses Pantone No. 023. The numbers, objectively, are different—but what do consumers see? What is the meaning of orange for them? These Pantone numbers, just like advertising expenditures, trademark certifications, and ‘expert’ opinions, remain utterly silent on the question of colour meaning and personal interpretation. And so, we are left with a troubled notion of the scanning of trademarked colours. It’s a practice that promises—but cannot guarantee—a particular meaning and reading within a certain context, one that is perfectly suited to the ‘instant look’ yet might contain a significance far different than the one authored and authorised by a business and the trademark office. While colour is scanworthy, it has multiple meanings and multiple readings; it is subject to recoding and reworking and distortion. That is what makes it colourful. Notes Trademarks recognise distinctiveness within a particular class of goods or services (i.e. Cadbury Ltd. successfully registered purple in the UK for use in the category of chocolate and chocolate confectionary, and a similar mark has been accepted for registration in New Zealand. This does not, of course, give Cadbury Ltd. the exclusive right to purple in unrelated categories, such as sporting goods. Interestingly, Cadbury’s application to register eight different shades of ‘Cadbury purple’ in Australia was unsuccessful.) The author gratefully acknowledges the thoughtful and thorough commentary provided by an anonymous referee. Thank you. Many excellent points were raised which, due to space constraints, were woefully under-addressed in this piece. References Batchelor, D. Chromophobia. London: Reaktion Books, 2000. Cadbury. “History of Chocolate.” 26 June 2005 http://www.cadbury.co.uk/>. Kearns, J. H. “Qualitex Co. v. Jacobson Products Co.: Orange You Sorry the Supreme Court Protected Color?” St. John’s Law Review 70.2 (1996): 337-58. Lindstrom, M. Brand Sense: Build Powerful Brands through Touch, Taste, Smell, Sight, and Sound. New York: Free Press, 2005. Lury, C. Brands: The Logos of the Global Economy. New York: Routledge, 2004. Overcamp, E. (1995). “The Qualitex Monster: The Color Trademark Disaster.” Journal of Intellectual Property Law 2.2 (1995): 595-620. Rose, C. “Romans, Roads, and Romantic Creators: Traditions of Public Property in the Information Age.” Law and Contemporary Problems 89 (Winter/Spring 2003): 89-110. Cases Qualitex Co. v. Jacobson Products Co., 514 U.S. 159, (1995). Citation reference for this article MLA Style Elliott, Charlene. "Colour™: Law and the Sensory Scan." M/C Journal 8.4 (2005). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0508/06-elliott.php>. APA Style Elliott, C. (Aug. 2005) "Colour™: Law and the Sensory Scan," M/C Journal, 8(4). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0508/06-elliott.php>.

We need a clear, unified, and consistent voice to effect the complete dismantling, the abolition, of the mechanisms of animal exploitation.And that will only come from what we say and do, no matter who we are.— Gary L. Francione, animal rights theoristThe history of hashtags is relatively short but littered with the remnants of corporate hashtags which may have seemed a good idea at the time within the confines of the boardroom. It is difficult to understand the rationale behind the use of hashtags as an effective communications tactic in 2019 by corporations when a quick stroll through their recent past leaves behind the much-derided #qantasluxury (Glance), #McDstories (Hill), and #myNYPD (Tran).While hashtags have an obvious purpose in bringing together like-minded publics and facilitating conversation (Kwye et al. 1), they have also regularly been the subject of “hashtag takeovers” by activists and other interested parties, and even by trolls, as the Ecological Society of Australia found in 2015 when their seemingly innocuous #ESA15 hashtag was taken over with pornographic images (news.com.au). Hashtag takeovers have also been used as a dubious marketing tactic, where smaller and less well-known brands tag their products with trending hashtags such as #iphone in order to boost their audience (Social Garden). Hashtags are increasingly used as a way for activists or other interested parties to disrupt a message. It is, I argue, predictable that any hashtag related to an even slightly controversial topic will be subject to some form of activist hashtag takeover, with varying degrees of success.That veganism and the dairy industry should attract such conflict is unsurprising given that the two are natural enemies, with vegans in particular seeming to anticipate and actively engage in the battle for the opposing hashtag.Using a comparative analysis of the #Veganuary and #Februdairy hashtags and how they have been used by both pro-vegan and pro-dairy social media users, this article illustrates that the enthusiastic and well-meaning social media efforts of farmers and dairy supporters have so far been unable to counteract those of well-organised and equally passionate vegan activists. This analysis compares tweets in the first week of the respective campaigns, concluding that organisations, industries and their representatives should be extremely wary of engaging said activists who are not only highly-skilled but are also highly-motivated. Grassroots, ideology-driven activism is a formidable opponent in any public space, let alone when it takes place on the outspoken and unstructured landscape of social media which is sometimes described as the “wild West” (Fitch 5) where anything goes and authenticity and plain-speaking is key (Macnamara 12).I Say Hashtag, You Say Bashtag#Februdairy was launched in 2018 to promote the benefits of dairy. The idea was first mooted on Twitter in 2018 by academic Dr Jude Capper, a livestock sustainability consultant, who called for “28 days, 28 positive dairy posts” (@Bovidiva; Howell). It was a response to the popular Veganuary campaign which aimed to “inspire people to try vegan for January and throughout the rest of the year”, a campaign which had gained significant traction both online and in the traditional media since its inception in 2014 (Veganuary). Hopes were high: “#Februdairy will be one month of dairy people posting, liking and retweeting examples of what we do and why we do it” (Yates). However, the #Februdairy hashtag has been effectively disrupted and has now entered the realm of a bashtag, a hashtag appropriated by activists for their own purpose (Austin and Jin 341).The Dairy Industry (Look Out the Vegans Are Coming)It would appear that the dairy industry is experiencing difficulties in public perception. While milk consumption is declining, sales of plant-based milks are increasing (Kaiserman) and a growing body of health research has questioned whether dairy products and milk in particular do in fact “do a body good” (Saccaro; Harvard Milk Study). In the 2019 review of Canada’s food guide, its first revision since 2007, for instance, the focus is now on eating plant-based foods with dairy’s former place significantly downgraded. Dairy products no longer have their own distinct section and are instead placed alongside other proteins including lentils (Pippus).Nevertheless, the industry has persevered with its traditional marketing and public relations activities, choosing to largely avoid addressing animal welfare concerns brought to light by activists. They have instead focused their message towards countering concerns about the health benefits of milk. In the US, the Milk Processing Education Program’s long-running celebrity-driven Got Milk campaign has been updated with Milk Life, a health focused campaign, featuring images of children and young people living an active lifestyle and taking part in activities such as skateboarding, running, and playing basketball (Milk Life). Interestingly, and somewhat inexplicably, Milk Life’s home page features the prominent headline, “How Milk Can Bring You Closer to Your Loved Ones”.It is somewhat reflective of the current trend towards veganism that tennis aces Serena and Venus Williams, both former Got Milk ambassadors, are now proponents for the plant-based lifestyle, with Venus crediting her newly-adopted vegan diet as instrumental in her recovery from an auto-immune disease (Mango).The dairy industry’s health focus continues in Australia, as well as the use of the word love, with former AFL footballer Shane Crawford—the face of the 2017 campaign Milk Loves You Back, from Lion Dairy and Drinks—focusing on reminding Australians of the reputed nutritional benefits of milk (Dawson).Dairy Australia meanwhile launched their Legendairy campaign with a somewhat different focus, promoting and lauding Australia’s dairy families, and with a message that stated, in a nod to the current issues, that “Australia’s dairy farmers and farming communities are proud, resilient and innovative” (Dairy Australia). This campaign could be perceived as a morale-boosting exercise, featuring a nation-wide search to find Australia’s most legendairy farming community (Dairy Australia). That this was also an attempt to humanise the industry seems obvious, drawing on established goodwill felt towards farmers (University of Cambridge). Again, however, this strategy did not address activists’ messages of suffering animals, factory farms, and newborn calves being isolated from their grieving mothers, and it can be argued that consumers are being forced to make the choice between who (or what) they care about more: animals or the people making their livelihoods from them.Large-scale campaigns like Legendairy which use traditional channels are of course still vitally important in shaping public opinion, with statistics from 2016 showing 85.1% of Australians continue to watch free-to-air television (Roy Morgan, “1 in 7”). However, a focus and, arguably, an over-reliance on traditional platforms means vegans and animal activists are often unchallenged when spreading their message via social media. Indeed, when we consider the breakdown in age groups inherent in these statistics, with 18.8% of 14-24 year-olds not watching any commercial television at all, an increase from 7% in 2008 (Roy Morgan, “1 in 7”), it is a brave and arguably short-sighted organisation or industry that relies primarily on traditional channels to spread their message in 2019. That these large-scale campaigns do little to address the issues raised by vegans concerning animal welfare leaves these claims largely unanswered and momentum to grow.This growth in momentum is fuelled by activist groups such as the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) who are well-known in this space, with 5,494,545 Facebook followers, 1.06 million Twitter followers, 973,000 Instagram followers, and 453,729 You Tube subscribers (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals). They are also active on Pinterest, a visual-based platform suited to the kinds of images and memes particularly detrimental to the dairy industry. Although widely derided, PETA’s reach is large. A graphic video posted to Facebook on February 13 2019 and showing a suffering cow, captioned “your cheese is not worth this” was shared 1,244 times, and had 4.6 million views in just over 24 hours (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals). With 95% of 12-24 year olds in Australia now using social networking sites (Statista), it is little wonder veganism is rapidly growing within this demographic (Bradbury), with The Guardian labelling the rise of veganism unstoppable (Hancox).Activist organisations are joined by prominent and charismatic vegan activists such as James Aspey (182,000 Facebook followers) and Earthling Ed (205,000 Facebook followers) in distributing information and images that are influential and often highly graphic or disturbing. Meanwhile Instagram influencers and You Tube lifestyle vloggers such as Ellen Fisher and FreeLee share information promoting vegan food and the vegan lifestyle (with 650,320 and 785,903 subscribers respectively). YouTube video Dairy Is Scary has over 5 million views (Janus) and What the Health, a follow-up documentary to Cowspiracy: The Sustainability Secret, promoting veganism, is now available on Netflix, which itself has 9.8 million Australian subscribers (Roy Morgan, “Netflix”). BOSH’s plant-based vegan cookbook was the fastest selling cookbook of 2018 (Chiorando).Additionally, the considerable influence of celebrities such as Miley Cyrus, Beyonce, Alicia Silverstone, Zac Efron, and Jessica Chastain, to name just a few, speaking publicly about their vegan lifestyle, encourages veganism to become mainstream and increases its widespread acceptance.However not all the dairy industry’s ills can be blamed on vegans. Rising costs, cheap imports, and other pressures (Lockhart, Donaghy and Gow) have all placed pressure on the industry. Nonetheless, in the battle for hearts and minds on social media, the vegans are leading the way.Qualitative research interviewing new vegans found converting to veganism was relatively easy, yet some respondents reported having to consult multiple resources and required additional support and education on how to be vegan (McDonald 17).Enter VeganuaryUsing a month, week or day to promote an idea or campaign, is a common public relations and marketing strategy, particularly in health communications. Dry July and Ocsober both promote alcohol abstinence, Frocktober raises funds for ovarian cancer, and Movember is an annual campaign raising awareness and funds for men’s health (Parnell). Vegans Matthew Glover and Jane Land were discussing the success of Movember when they raised the idea of creating a vegan version. Their initiative, Veganuary, urging people to try vegan for the month of January, launched in 2014 and since then 500,000 people have taken the Veganuary pledge (Veganuary).The Veganuary website is the largest of its kind on the internet. With vegan recipes, expert advice and information, it provides all the answers to Why go vegan, but it is the support offered to answer How to go vegan that truly sets Veganuary apart. (Veganuary)That Veganuary participants would use social media to discuss and share their experiences was a foregone conclusion. Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram are all utilised by participants, with the official Veganuary pages currently followed/liked by 159,000 Instagram followers, receiving 242,038 Facebook likes, and 45,600 Twitter followers (Veganuary). Both the Twitter and Instagram sites make effective use of hashtags to spread their reach, not only using #Veganuary but also other relevant hashtags such as #TryVegan, #VeganRecipes, and the more common #Vegan, #Farm, and #SaveAnimals.Februdairy Follows Veganuary, But Only on the CalendarCalling on farmers and dairy producers to create counter content and their own hashtag may have seemed like an idea that would achieve an overall positive response.Agricultural news sites and bloggers spread the word and even the BBC reported on the industry’s “fight back” against Veganuary (BBC). However the hashtag was quickly overwhelmed with anti-dairy activists mobilising online. Vegans issued a call to arms across social media. The Vegans in Australia Facebook group featured a number of posts urging its 58,949 members to “thunderclap” the Februdairy hashtag while the Project Calf anti-dairy campaign declared that Februdairy offered an “easy” way to spread their information (Sandhu).Februdairy farmers and dairy supporters were encouraged to tell their stories, sharing positive photographs and videos, and they did. However this content was limited. In this tweet (fig. 1) the issue of a lack of diverse content was succinctly addressed by an anti-Februdairy activist.Fig. 1: Content challenges. (#Februdairy, 2 Feb. 2019)MethodUtilising Twitter’s advanced search capability, I was able to search for #Veganuary tweets from 1 to 7 January 2019 and #Februdairy tweets from 1 to 7 February 2019. I analysed the top tweets provided by Twitter in terms of content, assessed whether the tweet was pro or anti Veganuary and Februdairy, and also categorised its content in terms of subject matter.Tweets were analysed to assess whether they were on message and aligned with the values of their associated hashtag. Veganuary tweets were considered to be on message if they promoted veganism or possessed an anti-dairy, anti-meat, or pro-animal sentiment. Februdairy tweets were assessed as on message if they promoted the consumption of dairy products, expressed sympathy or empathy towards the dairy industry, or possessed an anti-vegan sentiment. Tweets were also evaluated according to their clarity, emotional impact and coherence. The overall effectiveness of the hashtag was then evaluated based on the above criteria as well as whether they had been hijacked.Results and FindingsOverwhelmingly, the 213 #Veganuary tweets were on message. That is they were pro-Veganuary, supportive of veganism, and positive. The topics were varied and included humorous memes, environmental facts, information about the health benefits of veganism, as well as a strong focus on animals. The number of non-graphic tweets (12) concerning animals was double that of tweets featuring graphic or shocking imagery (6). Predominantly the tweets were focused on food and the sharing of recipes, with 44% of all pro #Veganuary tweets featuring recipes or images of food. Interestingly, a number of well-known corporations tweeted to promote their vegan food products, including Tesco, Aldi, Iceland, and M&S. The diversity of veganism is reflected in the tweets. Organisations used the hashtag to promote their products, including beauty and shoe products, social media influencers promoted their vegan podcasts and blogs, and, interestingly, the Ethiopian Embassy of the United Kingdom tweeted their support.There were 23 (11%) anti-Veganuary tweets. Of these, one was from Dr. Jude Capper, the founder of Februdairy. The others expressed support for farming and farmers, and a number were photographs of meat products, including sausages and fry-ups. One Australian journalist tweeted in favour of meat, stating it was yummy murder. These tweets could be described as entertaining and may perhaps serve as a means of preaching to the converted, but their ability to influence and persuade is negligible.Twitter’s search tool provided access to 141 top #Februdairy tweets. Of these 82 (52%) were a hijack of the hashtag and overtly anti-Februdairy. Vegan activists used the #Februdairy hashtag to their advantage with most of their tweets (33%) featuring non-graphic images of animals. They also tweeted about other subject matters, including environmental concerns, vegan food and products, and health issues related to dairy consumption.As noted by the activists (see fig. 1 above), most of the pro-Februdairy tweets were images of milk or dairy products (41%). Images of farms and farmers were the next most used (26%), followed by images of cows (17%) (see fig. 2). Fig. 2: An activist makes their anti-Februdairy point with a clear, engaging image and effective use of hashtags. (#Februdairy, 6 Feb. 2019)The juxtaposition between many of the tweets was also often glaring, with one contrasting message following another (see fig. 3). Fig. 3: An example of contrasting #Februdairy tweets with an image used by the activists to good effect, making their point known. (#Februdairy, 2 Feb. 2019)Storytelling is a powerful tool in public relations and marketing efforts. Yet, to be effective, high-quality content is required. That many of the Februdairy proponents had limited social media training was evident; images were blurred, film quality was poor, or they failed to make their meaning clear (see fig. 4). Fig. 4: A blurred photograph, reflective of some of the low-quality content provided by Februdairy supporters. (#Februdairy, 3 Feb. 2019)This image was tweeted in support of Februdairy. However the image and phrasing could also be used to argue against Februdairy. We can surmise that the tweeter was suggesting the cow was well looked after and seemingly content, but overall the message is as unclear as the image.While some pro-Februdairy supporters recognised the need for relevant hashtags, often their images were of a low-quality and not particularly engaging, a requirement for social media success. This requirement seems to be better understood by anti-Februdairy activists who used high-quality images and memes to create interest and gain the audience’s attention (see figs. 5 and 6). Fig. 5: An uninspiring image used to promote Februdairy. (#Februdairy, 6 Feb. 2019) Fig. 6: Anti-Februdairy activists made good use of memes, recognising the need for diverse content. (#Februdairy, 3 Feb. 2019)DiscussionWhat the #Februdairy case makes clear, then, is that in continuing its focus on traditional media, the dairy industry has left the battle online to largely untrained, non-social media savvy supporters.From a purely public relations perspective, one of the first things we ask our students to do in issues and crisis communication is to assess the risk. “What can hurt your organisation?” we ask. “What potential issues are on the horizon and what can you do to prevent them?” This is PR101 and it is difficult to understand why environmental scanning and resulting action has not been on the radar of the dairy industry long before now. It seems they have not fully anticipated or have significantly underestimated the emerging issue that public perception, animal cruelty, health concerns, and, ultimately, veganism has had on their industry and this is to their detriment. In Australia in 2015–16 the dairy industry was responsible for 8 per cent (A$4.3 billion) of the gross value of agricultural production and 7 per cent (A$3 billion) of agricultural export income (Department of Agriculture and Water Resources). When such large figures are involved and with so much at stake, it is hard to rationalise the decision not to engage in a more proactive online strategy, seeking to engage their publics, including, whether they like it or not, activists.Instead there are current attempts to address these issues with a legislative approach, lobbying for the introduction of ag-gag laws (Potter), and the limitation of terms such as milk and cheese (Worthington). However, these measures are undertaken while there is little attempt to engage with activists or to effectively counter their claims with a widespread authentic public relations campaign, and reflects a failure to understand the nature of the current online environment, momentum, and mood.That is not to say that the dairy industry is not operating in the online environment, but it does not appear to be a priority, and this is reflected in their low engagement and numbers of followers. For instance, Dairy Australia, the industry’s national service body, has a following of only 8,281 on Facebook, 6,981 on Twitter, and, crucially, they are not on Instagram. Their Twitter posts do not include hashtags and unsurprisingly they have little engagement on this platform with most tweets attracting no more than two likes. Surprisingly they have 21,013 subscribers on YouTube which featured professional and well-presented videos. This demonstrates some understanding of the importance of effective storytelling but not, as yet, trans-media storytelling.ConclusionSocial media activism is becoming more important and recognised as a legitimate voice in the public sphere. Many organisations, perhaps in recognition of this as well as a growing focus on responsible corporate behaviour, particularly in the treatment of animals, have adjusted their behaviour. From Unilever abandoning animal testing practices to ensure Dove products are certified cruelty free (Nussbaum), to Domino’s introducing vegan options, companies who are aware of emerging trends and values are changing the way they do business and are reaping the benefits of engaging with, and catering to, vegans. Domino’s sold out of vegan cheese within the first week and vegans were asked to phone ahead to their local store, so great was the demand. From their website:We knew the response was going to be big after the demand we saw for the product on social media but we had no idea it was going to be this big. (Domino’s Newsroom)As a public relations professional, I am baffled by the dairy industry’s failure to adopt a crisis-based strategy rather than largely rely on the traditional one-way communication that has served them well in the previous (golden?) pre-social media age. However, as a vegan, persuaded by the unravelling of the happy cow argument, I cannot help but hope this realisation continues to elude them.References@bovidiva. “Let’s Make #Februdairy Happen This Year. 28 Days, 28 Positive #dairy Posts. From Cute Calves and #cheese on Crumpets, to Belligerent Bulls and Juicy #beef #burgers – Who’s In?” Twitter post. 15 Jan. 2018. 1 Feb. 2019 <https://twitter.com/bovidiva/status/952910641840447488?lang=en>.Austin, Lucinda L., and Yan Jin. Social Media and Crisis Communication. 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Amongst the hundreds of emails that made their way to error@media-culture.org.au over the last ten months, I received the following correspondence: Failure noticeHi. This is the qmail-send program at sv01.wadax.ne.jp.I’m afraid I wasn’t able to deliver your message to the following addresses.This is a permanent error; I’ve given up. Sorry it didn’t work out.namewithheld@s.vodafone.ne.jp>:210.169.171.135 does not like recipient.Remote host said: 550 Invalid recipient:namewithheld@s.vodafone.ne.jp>Giving up on 210.169.171.135. Email of this sort marks a moment that is paradoxically odd and all too familiar in the digital exchanges of everyday life. The failure message arrives to tell me something “didn’t work out.” This message shows up in my email account looking no different from any other correspondence—only this one hails from the system itself, signalling a failure to communicate. Email from the “mailer-daemon” calls attention to both the logic of the post that governs email (a “letter” sent to an intended address at the intention of some source) and the otherwise invisible logic of informatic protocols, made visible in the system failure of a “permanent error.” In this particular instance, however, the failure notice is itself a kind of error. I never emailed namewithheld@s.vodafone.ne.jp—and by the mailer-daemon’s account, such a person does not exist. It seems that a spammer has exploited an email protocol as a way of covering his tracks: when a deliver-to path fails, the failure notice bounces to a third site. The failure notice marks the successful execution of a qmail protocol, but its arrival at our account is still a species of error. In most circumstances, error yields an invalid result. In calculation, error marks a kind of misstep that not only corrupts the end result, but all steps following the error. One error begets others. But as with the failure notice, error often marks not only the misdirections of a system, but also the system’s internal logic. The failure notice corresponds to a specific category of error—a potential error that the system must predict before it has actually occurred. While the notice signals failure (permanent error), it does so within the successful, efficient operation of a communicative system. What is at issue, then, is less a matter of whether or not error occurs than a system’s ability to handle error as it arises. Control systems attempt to close themselves off to error’s misdirections. If error signals a system failure, the “failure notice” of error foregrounds the degree to which in “societies of control” every error is a fatal error in that Baudrillardian sense—a failure that is subsumed in the operational logic of the system itself (40). Increasingly, the networks of a global marketplace require a rationalisation of processes and an introduction of informatic control systems to minimise wastage and optimise output. An informatic monoculture expresses itself through operational parameters that define communication according to principles of maximum transmission. In effect, in the growing dominance of a network society, we are witnessing the transcendence of a social and cultural system that must suppress at all costs the failure to communicate. This global communication system straddles a paradoxical moment of maximum exchange and maximum control. With growing frequency, social and commercial processes are governed by principles of quality assurance, what Lyotard defined nearly thirty years ago as a “logic of maximum performance” (xxiv). As Six Sigma standards migrate from the world of manufacturing to a wide range of institutions, we find a standard of maximum predictability and minimum error as the latest coin of the realm. Utopia is now an error-free world of 100% efficiency, accuracy, and predictability. This lure of an informatic “monoculture” reduces communication to a Maxwell’s demon for capturing transmission and excluding failure. Such a communicative system establishes a regime of signs that thrives upon the drift and flow of a network of signifiers, but that affirms its power as a system in its voracious incorporation of signs within a chain of signification (Deleuze and Guattari 111-117). Error is cast out as abject, the scapegoat “condemned as that which exceeds the signifying regime’s power of deterritorialization” (Deleuze and Guattari 117). Deleuze and Guattari describe this self-cycling apparatus of capture as “a funeral world of terror,” the terror of a black-hole regime that ultimately depends upon a return of the same and insures that everything that circulates communicates…or is cast off as abject (113). This terror marks a relation of control, one that depends upon a circulation of signs but that also insists all flows fall within its signifying regime. To speak of the “terror of information” is more than metaphorical to the extent that this forced binary (terror of signal/error of noise) imposes a kind of violence that demands a rationalisation of all singularities of expression into the functionalities of a quantifiable system. To the extent that systems of information imply systems of control, the violence of information is less metaphor than metonym, as it calls into high relief the scapegoat error—the abject remainder whose silenced line of flight marks the trajectory of the unclean. This cybernetic logic of maximum performance demands that error is either contained within the predictable deviations of a system’s performance, or nullified as outlying and asignifying. Statistics tells us that we are best off ignoring the outlier. This logic of the normal suggests that something very risky occurs when an event or an instance falls outside the scope of predicable variance. In the ascendancy of information, error, deviance, and outlying results cast a long shadow. In Norbert Wiener’s account of informatic entropy, this drift from systematic control marked a form of evil—not a Manichean evil of bad actors, but rather an Augustinian evil: a falling away from the perfection of order (34-36). Information utopia banishes error as a kind of evil—an aberration that is decidedly off the path of order and control. This cybernetic logic functions at all levels, from social systems theory to molecular biology. Our diseases are now described as errors in coding, transcription, or transmission—genetic anomalies, cancerous loop scripts, and neurochemical noise. Mutation figures as an error in reproduction—a straying from faithful replication and a falling away from the Good of order and control. But we should keep in mind that when we speak of “evil” in the context of this cybernetic logic, that evil takes on a specific form. It is the evil of the errant. Or to put it another way: it is the evil of the Sesame Street Muppet, Bert. In 2001, a U.S. high school student named Dino Ignacio created a graphic of the Muppet, Bert, with Osama bin Laden—part of his humorous Website project, “Bert is Evil.” A Pakistani-based publisher scanning the Web for images of bin Laden came across Ignacio’s image and, apparently not recognising the Sesame Street character, incorporated it into a series of anti-American posters. According to Henry Jenkins’s account of the events, in the weeks that followed, “CNN reporters recorded the unlikely sight of a mob of angry protestors marching through the streets chanting anti-American slogans and waving signs depicting Bert and bin Laden” (1-2). As the story of the Bert-sighting spread, new “Bert is evil” Websites sprang up, and Ignacio found himself the unwitting centre of a full-blown Internet phenomenon. Jenkins finds in this story a fascinating example of what he calls convergence culture, the blurring of the line between consumer and producer (3). From a somewhat different critical perspective, Mark Poster reads this moment of misappropriation and misreading as emblematic of global networked culture, in which “as never before, we must begin to interpret culture as multiple cacophonies of inscribed meanings as each cultural object moves across cultural differences” (11). But there is another moral to this story as well, to the extent that the convergence and cacophony described here occur in a moment of error, an errant slippage in which signification escapes its own regime of signs. The informatic (Augustinian) evil of Bert the Muppet showing up at an anti-American rally in Pakistan marks an event-scene in which an “error” not only signifies, but in its cognitive resonance, begins to amplify and replicate. At such moments, the “failure notice” of error signals a creative potential in its own right—a communicative context that escapes systemic control. The error of “evil Bert” introduces noise into this communicative system. It is abject information that marks an aberration within an otherwise orderly system of communication, an error of sorts marking an errant line of flight. But in contrast to the trance-like lure of 100% efficiency and maximum performance, is there not something seductive in these instances of error, as it draws us off our path of intention, leading us astray, pulling us toward the unintended and unforeseen? In its breach of predictable variance, error gives expression to the erratic. As such, “noise” marks a species of error (abject information) that, by failing to signify within a system, simultaneously marks an opening, a poiesis. This asignifying poetics of “noise,” marked by these moments of errant information, simultaneously refuses and exceeds the cybernetic imperative to communicate. This poetics of noise is somewhat reminiscent of Umberto Eco’s discussion of Claude Shannon’s information theory in The Open Work. For Shannon, the gap between signal and selection marks a space of “equivocation,” what Warren Weaver calls “an undesirable … uncertainty about what the message was” (Shannon and Weaver 21). Eco is intrigued by Shannon’s insight that communication is always haunted by equivocation, the uncertainty that the message received was the signal sent (57-58). Roland Barthes also picks up on this idea in S/Z, as N. Katherine Hayles notes in her discussion of information theory and post-structuralism (46). For these writers, equivocation suggests a creative potential in entropy, in that noise is, in Weaver’s words, “spurious information” (Shannon and Weaver 19). Eco elaborates on Shannon and Weaver’s information theory by distinguishing between actual communication (the message sent) and its virtuality (the possible messages received). Eco argues, in effect, that communication reduces information in its desire to actualise signal at the expense of noise. In contrast, poetics generates information by sustaining the equivocation of the text (66-68). It is in this tension between capture and escape marked by the scapegoats of error and noise that I find a potential for a contemporary poetics within a global network society. Error reveals the degree to which everyday life plays itself out within this space of equivocation. As Stuart Moulthrop addressed nearly ten years ago, our frequent encounters with “Error 404” on the Web calls attention to “the importance of not-finding”: that error marks a path in its own right, and not merely a misstep. Without question, this poetics of noise runs contrary to a dominant, cybernetic ideology of efficiency and control. By paying attention to drift and lines of flight, such erratic behaviour finds little favour in a world increasingly defined by protocol and predictable results. But note how in its attempt to capture error within its regime of signs, the logic of maximum performance is not above recuperating the Augustinian evil of error as a form of “fortunate fall.” Even in the Six Sigma world of 100% efficiency, does not corporate R & D mythologise the creative moment that allows error to turn a profit? Post-It Notes® and Silly Putty® present two classic instances in which happenstance, mistake, and error mark a moment in which “thinking outside of the box” saves the day. Error marks a kind of deviation from—and within—this system: a “failure” that at the same time marks a potential, a virtuality. Error calls attention to its etymological roots, a going astray, a wandering from intended destinations. Error, as errant heading, suggests ways in which failure, mutation, spurious information, and unintended results provide creative openings and lines of flight that allow for a reconceptualisation of what can (or cannot) be realised within social and cultural forms. While noise marks a rupture of signification, it also operates within the framework of a cybernetic imperative that constantly attempts to capture the flows that threaten to escape its operational parameters. As networks become increasingly social, this logic of rationalisation and abstraction serves as a dialectical enclosure for an information-based culture industry. But error also suggests a strategy of misdirection, getting a result back other than what one expected, and in doing so turns the cybernetic imperative against itself. “Google-bombing,” for example, creates an informatic structure that plays off of the creative potential of equivocation. Here, error of a Manichean sort introduces noise into an information system to produce unexpected results. Until recently, typing the word “failure” into the search engine Google produced as a top response George Bush’s Webpage at www.whitehouse.gov. By building Webpages in which the text “failure” links to the U.S. President’s page, users “hack” Google’s search algorithm to produce an errant heading. The cybernetic imperative is turned against itself; this strategy of misdirection enacts a “fatal error” that evokes the logic of a system to create an opening for poeisis, play, and the unintended. Information networks, no longer secondary to higher order social and cultural formations, now define the function and logic of social space itself. This culture of circulation creates equivalences by way of a common currency of “information,” such that “viral” distribution defines a social event in its own right, regardless of the content of transmission. While a decade earlier theorists speculated on the emergence of a collective intelligence via global networks, the culture of circulation that has developed online would seem to indicate that “emergence” and circulation are self-justifying events. In the moment of equivocation—not so much beyond good and evil, but rather in the spaces between signal and noise—slippage, error, and misdirection suggest a moment of opening in contrast to the black hole closures of the cybernetic imperative. The violence of an informatic monoculture expresses itself in this moment of insistence that whatever circulates signifies, and that which cannot communicate must be silenced. In such an environment, we would do well to examine these failures to communicate, as well as the ways in which error and noise seduce us off course. In contrast to the terror of an eternal return of the actual, a poetics of noise suggests a virtuality of the network, an opening of the possible in an increasingly networked society. The articles in this issue of M/C Journal approach error from a range of critical and social perspectives. Essays address the ways in which error marks both a misstep and an opening. Throughout this issue, the authors address error as both abject and privileged instance in a society increasingly defined by information networks and systems of control. In our feature article, “Revealing Errors,” Benjamin Mako Hill explores how media theorists would benefit from closer attention to errors as “under-appreciated and under-utilised in their ability to reveal technology around us.” By allowing errors to communicate, he argues, we gain a perspective that makes invisible technologies all the more visible. As such, error provides a productive moment for both interpretive and critical interventions. Two essays in this issue look at the place of error and noise within the work of art. Rather than foregrounding a concept of “medium” that emphasises clear, unimpeded transmission, these authors explore the ways in which the errant and unintended provide for a productive aesthetic in its own right. Using Shannon’s information theory, and in particular his concept of equivocation, Su Ballard’s essay, “Information, Noise, and et al.’s ‘maintenance of social solidarity-instance 5,” explores the productive error of noise in the digital installation art of a New Zealand artists’ collective. Rather than carefully controlling the viewer’s experience, et al.’s installation places the viewer within a field of equivocation, in effect encouraging misreadings and unintended insertions. In a similar vein, Tim Barker’s essay, “Error, the Unforeseen, and the Emergent: The Error of Interactive Media Art” examines the productive error of digital art, both as an expression of artistic intent and as an emergent expression within the digital medium. This “glitch aesthetic” foregrounds the errant and uncontrollable in any work of art. In doing so, Barker argues, error also serves as a measure of the virtual—a field of potential that gestures toward the “unforeseen.” The virtuality of error provides a framework of sorts for two additional essays that, while separated considerably in subject matter, share similar theoretical concerns. Taking up the concept of an asignifying poetics of noise, Christopher Grant Ward’s essay, “Stock Images, Filler Content, and the Ambiguous Corporate Message” explores how the stock image industry presents a kind of culture of noise in its attempt to encourage equivocation rather than control semiotic signal. By producing images that are more virtual than actual, visual filler provides an all-too-familiar instance of equivocation as a field of potential and a Derridean citation of undecidibility. Adi Kuntsman takes a similar theoretic tack in “‘Error: No Such Entry’: Haunted Ethnographies of Online Archives.” Using a database retrieval error message, “no such entry,” Kuntsman reflects upon her ethnographic study of an online community of Russian-Israeli queer immigrants. Error messages, she argues, serve as informatic “hauntings”—erasures that speak of an online community’s complex relation to the construction and archiving of a collective history. In the case of a database retrieval error—as in the mailer-daemon’s notice of the “550” error—the failure of an address to respond to its hailing calls attention to a gap between query and expected response. This slippage in control is, as discussed above, and instance of an Augustinian error. But what of the Manichean—the intentional engagement in strategies of misdirection? In Kimberly Gregson’s “Bad Avatar! Griefing in Virtual Worlds,” she provides a taxonomy of aberrant behaviour in online gaming, in which players distort or subvert orderly play through acts that violate protocol. From the perspective of many a gamer, griefing serves no purpose other than annoyance, since it exploits the rules of play to disrupt play itself. Yet in “Amazon Noir: Piracy, Distribution, Control,” Michael Dieter calls attention to “how the forces confined as exterior to control (virality, piracy, noncommunication) regularly operate as points of distinction to generate change and innovation.” The Amazon Noir project exploited vulnerabilities in Amazon.com’s Search Inside!™ feature to redistribute thousands of electronic texts for free through peer-to-peer networks. Dieter demonstrates how this “tactical media performance” challenged a cybernetic system of control by opening it up to new and ambiguous creative processes. Two of this issue’s pieces explore a specific error at the nexus of media and culture, and in keeping with Hill’s concept of “revealing errors,” use this “glitch” to lay bare dominant ideologies of media use. In her essay, “Artificial Intelligence: Media Illiteracy and the SonicJihad Debacle in Congress,” Elizabeth Losh focuses on a highly public misreading of a Battlefield 2 fan video by experts from the Science Applications International Corporation in their testimony before Congress on digital terrorism. Losh argues that Congress’s willingness to give audience to this misreading is a revealing error in its own right, as it calls attention to the anxiety of experts and power brokers over the control and distribution of information. In a similar vein, in Yasmin Ibrahim’s essay, “The Emergence of Audience as Victims: The Issue of Trust in an Era of Phone Scandals,” explores the revealing error of interactive television gone wrong. Through an examination of recent BBC phone-in scandals, Ibrahim explores how failures—both technical and ethical—challenge an increasingly interactive audience’s sense of trust in the “reality” of mass media. Our final essay takes up the theme of mutation as genetic error. Martin Mantle’s essay, “‘Have You Tried Not Being a Mutant?’: Genetic Mutation and the Acquisition of Extra-ordinary Ability,” explores “normal” and “deviant” bodies as depicted in recent Hollywood retellings of comic book superhero tales. Error, he argues, while signalling the birth of superheroic abilities, marks a site of genetic anxiety in an informatic culture. Mutation as “error” marks the body as scapegoat, signalling all that exceeds normative control. In each of these essays, error, noise, deviation, and failure provide a context for analysis. In suggesting the potential for alternate, unintended outcomes, error marks a systematic misgiving of sorts—a creative potential with unpredictable consequences. As such, error—when given its space—provides an opening for artistic and critical interventions. References “Art Fry, Inventor of Post-It® Notes: ‘One Man’s Mistake is Another’s Inspiration.” InventHelp. 2004. 14 Oct. 2007 http://www.inventhelp.com/articles-for-inventors-art-fry.asp>. Barthes, Roland. S/Z. Trans. Richard Miller. New York: Hill and Wang, 1974. Baudrillard, Jean. The Transparency of Evil. Trans. James Benedict. New York: Verso, 1993. Deleuze, Gilles. “Postscript on the Societies of Control.” October 59 (Winter 1992): 3-7. Deleuze, Gilles, and Felix Guattari. A Thousand Plateaus. Trans. Brian Massumi. Minneapolis: U Minnesota P, 1987. Eco, Umberto. The Open Work. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1989. “Googlebombing ‘Failure.’” Official Google Blog. 16 Sep. 2005. 14 Oct. 2007 http://googleblog.blogspot.com/2005/09/googlebombing-failure.html>. Hayles, N. Katherine. How We Became Posthuman. Chicago: U Chicago P, 1999. Jenkins, Henry. Convergence Culture. New York: NYU Press, 2006. Lyotard, Jean-Francois. The Postmodern Condition. Trans. Geoffrey Bennington and Brian Massumi. Minneapolis: Minnesota UP, 1984. Moulthrop, Stuart. “Error 404: Doubting the Web.” 2000. 14 Oct. 2007 http://iat.ubalt.edu/moulthrop/essays/404.html>. Poster, Mark. Information Please. Durham, NC: Duke UP, 2006. Shannon, Claude, and Warren Weaver. The Mathematical Theory of Communication. Urbana: U Illinois P, 1949. “Silly Putty®.” Inventor of the Week. 3 Mar. 2003. 14 Oct. 2007 http://web.mit.edu/Invent/iow/sillyputty.html>. Wiener, Norbert. The Human Use of Human Beings. Cambridge, MA: Da Capo, 1988. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Nunes, Mark. "Failure Notice." M/C Journal 10.5 (2007). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0710/00-editorial.php>. APA Style Nunes, M. (Oct. 2007) "Failure Notice," M/C Journal, 10(5). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0710/00-editorial.php>.

The technical apparatus is, then, being made at home with the rest of our world. And that's a thing that's routinely being done, and it's the source of the failure of technocratic dreams that if only we introduced some fantastic new communication machine, the world will be transformed. Where what happens is that the object is made at home in the world that has whatever organisation it already has. -- Harvey Sacks (Lectures on Conversation Vol. 2., 548-9) Chatting, or having a conversation, has long been a favourite activity for people. It seemed so ordinary, if not to say trivial, that it has for almost equally long not been studied in any dedicated way. It was only when Harvey Sacks and his early collaborators started using the tape recorder to study telephone conversations that 'conversation' as a topic has become established (cf. Sacks, Lectures Vol. 1). Inspired by Harold Garfinkel, the perspective chosen was a procedural one: they wanted to analyse how conversations are organised on the spot. As Sacks once said: The gross aim of the work I am doing is to see how finely the details of actual, naturally occurring conversation can be subjected to analysis that will yield the technology of conversation. (Sacks, "On Doing 'Being Ordinary'" 411) Later, Sacks also started using data from audio-recorded face-to-face encounters. Most of the phenomena that the research on telephone conversation unearthed could also be found in face-to-face data. Whether something was lost by relying on just audio materials was not clear at the beginning. But with video-based research, as initiated by Charles Goodwin in the 1970s, one was later able to demonstrate that visual exchanges did play an essential role the actual organisation of face-to-face conduct. When using telephone technology, people seemed to rely on a restricted set of the interactional procedures used in face-to-face settings. But new ways to deal with both general and setting-specific problems, such as mutual identification, were also developed. Now that an increasing number of people spend various amounts of their time 'online', chatting with friends or whoever is available, it is time to study Computer-Mediated Conversation (CMC), as we previously studied face-to-face conversation and Telephone (Mediated) Conversation, using the same procedural perspective. We may expect that we will encounter many phenomena that have become familiar to us, and that we will be able to use many of the same concepts. But we will probably also see that people have developed new technical variations of familiar themes as they adapt the technology of conversation to the possibilities and limitations of this new technology of communicative mediation. In so doing, they will make the new technology 'at home in the world that has whatever organisation it already has.' Space does not allow a full discussion of the properties of text-based CMC as instantiated in 'chat' environments, but comparing CMC with face-to-face communication and telephone conversations, it is obvious that the means to convey meanings are severely restricted. In face-to-face encounters, many of the more subtle aspects of the conversation rely on visual and vocal productions and perceptions, which are more or less distinguishable from the 'text' that has been uttered. Following the early work of Gregory Bateson, these aspects are mostly conceived of as a kind of commentary on the core communication available in the 'text', that is as 'meta-communication'. While the 'separation' between 'levels' of communication, that these conceptualisations imply may distort what actually goes on in face-to-face encounters, there is no doubt that telephone conversations, in which the visual 'channel' is not available, and text-based CMC, which in addition lacks access to voice qualities, do confront participants with important communicative restrictions. An important aspect of text-based computer-mediated chatting is that it offers users an unprecedented anonymity, and therefore an unprecedented licence for unaccountable action, ranging from bland banality to criminal threat, while passing through all imaginable sexual 'perversities'. One upshot of this is that they can present themselves as belonging to any plausible category they may choose, but they will -- in the chat context -- never be sure whether the other participants 'really' are legitimate members of the categories they claim for themselves. In various other formats for CMC, like MUDs and MOOs, the looseness of the connections between the people who type messages and the identities they project in the chat environment seems often to be accepted as an inescapable fact, which adds to the fascination of participation1. The typists can then be called 'players' and the projected identities 'characters', while the interaction can be seen as a game of role-playing. In general chat environments, as the one I will discuss later, such a game-like quality seems not to be openly admitted, although quite often hinted at. Rather, the participants stick to playing who they claim they are. In my own text, however, I will use 'player' and 'character' to indicate the two faces of participation in computer-mediated, text-based chats. In the following sections, I will discuss the organised ways in which one particular problem that chat-players have is dealt with. That problem can be glossed as: how do people wanting to 'chat' on the Internet find suitable partners for that activity? The solution to that problem lies in the explicit naming or implicit suggestion of various kinds of social categories, like 'age', 'sex' and 'location'. Chat players very often initiate a chat with a question like: "hi, a/s/l please?", which asks the other party to self-identify in those terms, as, for instance "frits/m/amsterdam", if that fits the character the player wants to project. But, as I will explain, categorisation plays its role both earlier and later in the chat process. 'Membership Categorisation' in Finding Chat Partners The following exploration is, then, an exercise in Membership Categorisation Analysis (MCA; Hester & Eglin) as based on the ideas developed by Harvey Sacks in the 1960s (Sacks, "An Initial Investigation", "On the Analyzability of Stories", Lectures on Conversation Vol. 1). An immense part of the mundane knowledge that people use in living their everyday lives is organised in terms of categories that label members of some population as being of certain types. These categories are organised in sets, called Membership Categorisation Devices (MCDs). The MCD 'sex' (or 'gender'), for instance, consists of the two categories of 'male' and 'female'. Labelling a person as being male or female carries with it an enormous amount of implied properties, so called 'category-predicates', such as expectable or required behaviours, capacities, values, etc. My overall thesis is that people who want to chat rely mostly on categorical predications to find suitable chat partners. Finding a chat partner or chat partners is an interactive process between at least two parties. Their job involves a combination of presenting themselves and reading others' self presentations. For each, the job has a structure like 'find an X who wants a Y as a partner', where X is the desired chat character and Y is the character you yourself want to play. The set of XY-combinations varies in scope, of course, from very wide, say any male/female combination, to rather narrow, as we will see. The partner finding process for chats can be loosely compared with partly similar processes in other environments, such as cocktail parties, poster sessions at conferences, and telephone calls. The openings of telephone calls have been researched extensively by conversation analysts, especially Schegloff ("Sequencing", "Identification", "Routine"; also Hopper). An interesting idea from this work is that a call opening tends to follow a loosely defined pattern, called the canonical model for telephone openings. This involves making contact, mutual identification/recognition, greetings and 'how-are-you?'s, before the actual business of the call is tackled. When logging on to a chat environment, one enters a market of sorts, where the participants are both buyers and sellers: a general sociability-market like a cocktail party. And indeed some writers have characterised chat rooms as 'virtual cocktail parties'. Some participants in a cocktail party may, of course, have quite specific purposes in mind, like wanting to meet a particular kind of person, or a particular individual, or even being open to starting a relationship which may endure for some time after the event. The same is true for CMC chats. The trajectory that the partner-finding process will take is partly pre-structured by the technology used. I have limited my explorations to one particular chat environment (Microsoft Chat). In that program, the actual partner-finding starts even before logging on, as one is required to fill in certain information slots when setting up the program, such as Real Name and Nickname and optional slots like Email Address and Profile. When you click on the Chat Room List icon, you are presented with a list of over a thousand rooms, alphabetically arranged, with the number of participants. You can select a Room and click a button to enter it. When you do, you get a new screen, which has three windows, one that represents the ongoing general conversation, one with a list of the participants' nicks, and a window to type your contributions in. When you right-click on a name in the participant list, you get a number of options, including Get Profile. Get Profile allows you to get more information on that person, if he/she has filled in that part of the form, but often you get "This person is too lazy to create a profile entry." Categorisation in Room Names When you log in to the chat server, you can search either the Chat Room List or the Users List. Let us take the Chat Room List first. Some room names seem to be designed to come early in the alphabetically ordered list, by starting with one or more A's, as in A!!!!!!!!!FriendlyChat, while others rely on certain key words. Scanning over a thousand names for those words by scrolling the list might take a lot of time, but the Chat Room List has a search facility. You can type a string and the list will be shortened to only those with that string in their name. Many room names seem to be designed for being found this way, by containing a number of more or less redundant strings that people might use in a search. Some examples of room names are: A!!!!!!!!!FriendlyChat, Animal&Girls, Australia_Sydney_Chat_Room, christian evening post, desert_and_cactus_only, engineer, francais_saloppes, francais_soumise_sub_slave, german_deutsch_rollenspiele, hayatherseyeragmensürüyor, holland_babbel, italia_14_19anni, italia_padania_e_basta, L@Ros@deiVenti, nederlandse_chat, sex_tr, subslavespankbondage, Sweet_Girl_From_Alabama, #BI_LES_FEM_ONLY, #Chinese_Chat, #France, #LesbiansBiTeenGirls_Cam_NetMeeting, #polska_do_flirtowania, #russian_Virtual_Bar?, #tr_%izmir, #ukphonefantasy. A first look at this collection of room names suggests two broad classes of categorisation: first a local/national/cultural/ethnic class, and second one oriented to topics, with a large dose of sexual ones. For the first class, different kinds of indicators are available, such as naming as in Australia_Sydney_Chat_Room, and the use of a local language as in hayatherseyeragmensürüyor, or in combination: german_deutsch_rollenspiele. When you enter this type of room, a first function of such categorisations becomes apparent in that non-English categorisations suggest a different language practice. While English is the default language, quite a few people prefer using their own local language. Some rooms even suggest a more restricted area, as in Australia_Sydney_Chat_Room, for those who are interested in chatting with people not too far off. This seems a bit paradoxical, as chatting in a world-wide network allows contacts between people who are physically distant, as is often mentioned in chats. Rooms with such local restrictions may be designed, however, to facilitate possible subsequent face-to-face meetings or telephone contacts, as is suggested by names like Fr@nce_P@ris_Rencontre and #ukphonefantasy. The collection of sexually suggestive names is not only large, but also indicative of a large variety of interests, including just (probably heterosexual) sex, male gay sex, female lesbian or bi-sexuality. Some names invoke some more specialized practices like BDSM, and a collection of other 'perversities', as in names like 'francais_soumcateise_sub_slave', 'subslavespankbondage', 'golden_shower' or 'family_secrets'. But quite often sexual interest are only revealed in subsequent stages of contact. Non-sexual interests are, of course, also apparent, including religious, professional, political or commercial ones, as in 'christian evening post', or 'culturecrossing', 'holland_paranormaal', 'jesussaves', 'Pokemon_Chat', 'francais_informatique', and '#Russian_Philosophy_2918'. Categorisation through Nicknames Having selected a room, your next step is to see who is there. As chatting ultimately concerns exchanges between (virtual) persons, it is no surprise that nicknames are used as concise 'labels' to announce who is available on the chat network or in a particular room. Consider some examples: ^P0371G , amanda14, anneke, banana81, Dream_Girl, emma69, ericdraven, latex_bi_tch1 , Leeroy, LuCho1, Mary15, Miguelo, SomeFun, Steffi, teaser. Some of these are rather opaque, at least at first, while others seem quite ordinary. Anneke, for instance, is an ordinary Dutch name for girls. So, by using this nick name, a person at the same time categorises herself in two Membership Categorisation Devices: gender: 'female' and language: 'Dutch'. When using this type of nick, you will quite often be addressed in Dutch, for instance with the typically Dutch chat-greeting "hoi" and/or by a question like "ben jij Nederlandse?" ("are you Dutch?" -- female form). This question asks you to categorise yourself, using the nationality device 'Dutch/Belgian', within the language category 'speaker of Dutch'. Many other first names like 'amanda' and 'emma', do not have such a language specificity and so do not 'project' a specific European language/nationality as 'anneke' does. Some French names, like 'nathalie' are a bit ambiguous in that respect, as they are used in quite a number of other language communities, so you may get a more open question like "bonjour, tu parle francais?" ("hi, do you speak French?"). A name like 'Miguelo' suggests a roman language, of course, while 'LuCho1' or 'Konusmaz' indicate non-European languages (here Chinese and Turkish, respectively). Quite often, a first name nick also carries an attached number, as in 'Mary15'. One reason for such attachments is that a nick has to be unique, so if you join the channel with a nick like 'Mary', there will mostly be another who has already claimed that particular name. An error message will appear suggesting that you take another nick. The easiest solution, then, is to add an 'identifying detail', like a number. Technically, any number, letter or other character will do, so you can take Mary1, or Mary~, or Mary_m. Quite often, numbers are used in accord with the nick's age, as is probably the case in our examples 'Mary15' and 'amanda14', but not in 'emma69', which suggests an 'activity preference' rather than an age category. Some of the other nicks in our examples suggest other aspects, claims or interests, as in Dream_Girl, latex_bi_tch1, SomeFun, or teaser. Other examples are: 'machomadness', 'daddyishere', 'LadySusan28', 'maleslave', 'curieuse33', 'patrickcam', or 'YOUNG_GAY_BOY'. More elaborate information about a character can sometimes be collected from his or her profile, but for reasons of space, I will not discuss its use here. This paper's interest is not only in finding out which categories and MCDs are actually used, but also how they are used, what kind of function they can be seen to have. How do chat participants organise their way to 'the anchor point' (Schegloff, "Routine"), at which they start their actual chat 'business'? For the chatting environment that I have observed, there seems to be two major purposes, one may be called social, i.e. 'just chatting', as under the rubric 'friendly chat', and the other is sexual. These purposes may be mixed, of course, in that the first may lead to the second, or the second accompanied by the first. Apart from those two major purposes, a number of others can be inferred from the room titles, including the discussion of political, religious, and technical topics. Sexual chats can take various forms, most prominently 'pic trading' and 'cybersex'. As becomes clear from research by Don Slater, an enormous 'market' for 'pic trading' has emerged, with a quite explicit normative structure of 'fair trading', i.e. if one receives something, one should reciprocate in kind. When one is in an appropriate room, and especially if one plays a female character, other participants quite often try to initiate pic trading. This can have the form of sending a pic, without any verbal exchange, possibly followed by a request like 'send also'. But you may also get a verbal request first, like "do you have a (self) pic?" If you reply in a negative way, you often do not get any further reaction, or just "ok." A 'pic request' can also be preceded by some verbal exchanges; social, sexual or both. That question -- "have a pic?" or "wanna trade" -- can then be considered the real starting point for that particular encounter, or it can be part of a process of getting to know each other: "can i c u?" The second form of sexual chats involves cyber sex. This may be characterised as interactionally improvised pornography, the exchange of sexually explicit messages enacting a sexual fantasy or a shared masturbation session. There is a repertoire of opening moves for these kinds of games, including "wanna cyber?", "are you alone?" and "what are you wearing now?" Functions of Categorisations Categorisations in room names, nicks and profiles has two major functions: guiding the selection of suitable chat partners and suggesting topics. Location information has quite diverse implications in different contexts, e.g. linguistic, cultural, national and geographical. Language is a primordial parameter in any text-based activity, and chatting offers numerous illustrations for this. Cultural implications seem to be more diffuse, but probably important for some (classes of?) participants. Nationality is important in various ways, for instance as an 'identity anchor'. So when you use a typically Dutch nick, like 'frits' or 'anneke', you may get first questions asking whether you are from the Netherlands or from Belgium and subsequently from which region or town. This may be important for indicating reachability, either in person or over the phone. Location information can also be used as topic opener. So when you mention that you live in Amsterdam, you often get positive remarks about the city, like "I visited Amsterdam last June and I liked it very much", or "I would die to live there" (sic) from a pot-smoking U.S. student. After language, age and gender seem to be the most important points in exploring mutual suitability. When possible partners differ in age or gender category, this quite often leads to questions like "Am I not too old/young for you?" Of course, age and gender are basic parameters for sexual selection, as people differ in their range of sexual preferences along the lines of these categories, i.e. same sex or opposite sex, and roughly the same age or older/younger age. Such preferences intersect with straight or kinky ones, of which a large variety can be found. Many rooms are organised around one or another combination, as announced in names like '#LesbiansBiTeenGirls_Cam_NetMeeting', 'Hollandlolita' or '#Lesbian_Domination'. In some of these, the host makes efforts to keep to a more or less strict 'regime', for instance by banning obvious males from a room like '#BI_LES_FEM_ONLY'. In others, an automated welcome message is used to lay out the participation rules. Conclusion To sum up, categorisation plays an essential role in a sorting-out process leading, ideally, to small-group or dyadic suitability. A/S/L, age, sex and location, are obvious starting points, but other differentiations, as in sexual preferences which are themselves partly rooted in age/gender combinations, also play a role. In this process, suitability explorations and topic initiations are intimately related. Chatting, then, is text-based categorisation. New communication technologies are invented with rather limited purposes in mind, but they are quite often adopted by masses of users in unexpected ways. In this process, pre-existing communicational purposes and procedures are adapted to the new environment, but basically there does not seem to be any radical change. Comparing mutual categorisation in face-to-face encounters, telephone calls, and text-based CMC as in online chatting, one can see that similar procedures are being used, although in a more and more explicit manner, as in the question: "a/s/l please?" Footnote These ideas have been inspired by Schaap; for an ethnography focussing on the connection between 'life online' and 'real life', see Markham, 1998. References Hopper, Robert. Telephone Conversation. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1992. Hester, Stephen, and Peter Eglin, eds. Culture in Action: Studies in Membership Categorisation Analysis. Washington, D.C.: UP of America, 1997. Markham, Annette H. Life Online: Researching Real Experience in Virtual Space. Walnut Creek, London, New Delhi: Altamira P, 1998. Sacks, Harvey. "An Initial Investigation of the Usability of Conversational Data for Doing Sociology." Studies in Social Interaction. Ed. D. Sudnow. New York: Free P, 1972. 31-74. ---. Lectures on Conversation. Vol. 1. Ed. Gail Jefferson, with an introduction by Emanuel A. Schegloff. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1992. ---. Lectures on Conversation. Vol. 2. Ed. Gail Jefferson, with an introduction by Emanuel A. Schegloff. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1992. ---. "On Doing 'Being Ordinary'." Structures of Social Action: Studies in Conversation Analysis. Ed. J. Maxwell Atkinson and John Heritage. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1984. 413-29. ---. "On the Analyzability of Stories by Children." Directions in Sociolinguistics: The Ethnography of Communication. Ed. John. J. Gumperz and Dell Hymes. New York: Rinehart & Winston, 1972. 325-45. Schaap, Frank. "The Words That Took Us There: Not an Ethnography." M.A. Thesis in Anthropology, University of Amsterdam, 2000. <http://fragment.nl/thesis/>. Schegloff, Emanuel A. "Identification and Recognition in Telephone Conversation Openings." Everyday Language: Studies in Ethnomethodology. Ed. George Psathas. New York: Irvington, 1979. 23-78. ---. "The Routine as Achievement." Human Studies 9 (1986): 111-52. ---. "Sequencing in Conversational Openings." American Anthropologist 70 (1968): 1075-95. Slater, Don R. "Trading Sexpics on IRC: Embodiment and Authenticity on the Internet." Body and Society 4.4 (1998): 91-117. Ten Have, Paul. Doing Conversation Analysis: A Practical Guide. Introducing Qualitative Methods. London: Sage, 1999. Citation reference for this article MLA style: Paul ten Have. "Computer-Mediated Chat: Ways of Finding Chat Partners." M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3.4 (2000). [your date of access] <http://www.api-network.com/mc/0008/partners.php>. Chicago style: Paul ten Have, "Computer-Mediated Chat: Ways of Finding Chat Partners," M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3, no. 4 (2000), <http://www.api-network.com/mc/0008/partners.php> ([your date of access]). APA style: Paul ten Have. (2000) Computer-mediated chat: ways of finding chat partners. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3(4). <http://www.api-network.com/mc/0008/partners.php> ([your date of access]).

Images 1-6: Photographs by Rachelle Viader Knowles (2012)This article discusses the cross-cultural, augmented artwork Parallel Worlds, Intersecting Moments (2012) by Rachelle Viader Knowles and Judy Anderson, that premiered at the First Nations University of Canada Gallery in Regina, on 2 March 2012, as part of a group exhibition entitled Critical Faculties. The work consists of two elements: wall pieces with black and white Quick Response (QR) codes created using traditional beading and framed within red Stroud cloth; and a series of videos, accessible via scanning the beaded QR codes. The videos feature Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people from Saskatchewan, Canada telling stories about their own personal experiences with new technologies. A QR code is a matrix barcode made up of black square modules on a white square in a grid pattern that is optically machine-readable. Performance artist and scholar Rebecca Caines was invited by the artists to participate in the work as a subject in one of the videos. She attended the opening and observed how audiences improvised and interacted with the work. Caines then went on to initiate this collaborative writing project. Like the artwork it analyzes, this writing documents a series of curated experiences and conversations. This article includes excerpts of artist statements, descriptions of artists’s process and audience observation, and new sections of collaborative critical writing, woven together to explore the different augmented elements of the artwork and the results of this augmentation. These conversations and responses explore the cross-cultural processes that led to the work’s creation, and describe the results of the technological and social disruptions and slippages that occurred in the development phase and in the gallery as observers and artists improvised with the augmentation technology, and with each other. The article includes detail on the augmented art practices of storytelling, augmented reality (AR), and traditional beading, that collided and mutated during this project, exploring the tension and opportunity inherent in the human impulse to augment. Storytelling through Augmented Art Practices: The Creation of the WorkJUDY ANDERSON: I am a Plains Cree artist from the Gordon’s First Nation, which is located in Saskatchewan, Canada. As a Professor of Indian Fine Arts at the First Nations University of Canada, I research and continue to learn about traditional art making using traditional materials creating primarily beaded pieces such as medicine bags and drum sticks. Of particular interest to me, however, is how such traditional practices manifest in contemporary Aboriginal art. In this regard I have been greatly influenced by my colleague and friend, artist Ruth Cuthand, and specifically her Trading series, which reframed my thinking about beadwork (Art Placement), and later by the work of artists like Nadia Myer, and KC Adams (Myer; KC Adams). Cuthand’s incredibly successful series taught me that beadwork does not only beautify and “augment” our world, but it has the power to bring to the forefront important issues regarding Aboriginal people. As a result, I began to work on my own ideas on how to create beadworks that spoke to both traditional and contemporary thoughts.RACHELLE VIADER KNOWLES: At the time we started developing this project, we were both working in leadership roles in our respective Departments; Judy as Coordinator of Indian Fine Arts at First Nations University, and myself as Head of Visual Arts at the University of Regina. We began discussing ways that we could create more interconnection between our faculty members and students. At the centre of both our practices was a dialogic method of back and forth negotiation and compromise. JA: Rachelle had the idea that we should bead QR codes and make videos for the upcoming First Nations and University of Regina joint faculty exhibition. Over the 2011 Christmas holiday we visited each other’s homes, beaded together, and found out about each other’s lives by telling stories of the things we’ve experienced. I felt it was very important that our QR codes were not beaded in the exact same manner; Rachelle built up hers through a series of straight lines, whereas mine was beaded with a circle around the square QR code, which reflected the importance of the circle in my Cree belief system. It was important for me to show that even though we, Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people, have similar experiences, we often have a different approach or way of thinking about similar things. I also suggested we frame the black and white beaded QR codes with bright red Stroud cloth, a heavy wool cloth originating in the UK that has been used in North America as trade cloth since the 1680s, and has become a significant part of First Nations fabric traditions.Since we were approaching this piece as a cross-cultural one, I chose the number seven for the amount of stories we would create because it is a sacred number in my own Plains Cree spiritual teachings. As such, we brought together seven pairs of people, including ourselves. The participants were drawn from family and friends from reserves and communities around Saskatchewan, including the city of Regina, as well as colleagues and students from the two university campuses. There were a number of different age ranges and socioeconomic backgrounds represented. We came together to tell stories about our experiences with technology, a common cross-cultural experience that seemed appropriate to the work.RVK: As the process of making the beadworks unfolded however, what became apparent to me was the sheer amount of hours it takes to create a piece of “augmentation” through beading, and the deeply social nature of the activity. We also worked together on the videos for the AR part of the artwork. Each participant in the videos was asked to write a short text about some aspect of their relationship to technology and communications. We took the short stories, arranged them into pairs, and used them to write short scripts. We then invited each pair to perform the scripts together on camera in my studio. The stories were really broad ranging. My own was a reflection of the profound discomfort of finding a blog where a man I was dating was publishing the story of our relationship as it unfolded. Other stories covered the loss of no longer being able to play the computer games from teenage years, first encounters with new technologies and social networks, secret admirers, and crank calls to emergency services. The storytelling and dialogue between us as we shared our practices became an important, but unseen layer of this “dialogical” work (Kester).REBECCA CAINES: I came along to Rachelle’s studio at the university to be a participant in a video for the piece. My co-performer was a young woman called Nova Lee. We laughed and chatted and talked and sat knee-to-knee together to film our stories about technology, both of us focusing on different types of Internet relationships. We were asked to read one line of our story at a time, interweaving together our poem of experience. Afterwards I asked her where her name was from. She told me it was from a song. She found the song on YouTube on Rachelle’s computer in the studio and played it for us. Here is a sample of the lyrics: I told my daddy I'd found a girlWho meant the world to meAnd tomorrow I'd ask the Indian chiefFor the hand of Nova LeeDad's trembling lips spoke softlyAs he told me of my life twangs then he said I could never takeThis maiden for my wifeSon, the white man and Indians were fighting when you were bornAnd a brave called Yellow Sun scalped my little boySo I stole you to get even for what he'd doneThough you're a full-blooded Indian, son I love you as much as my own little fellow that's deadAnd, son, Nova Lee is your sisterAnd that's why I've always saidSon, don't go near the IndiansPlease stay awaySon, don't go near the IndiansPlease do what I say— Rex Allen. “Don’t Go Near the Indians.” 1962. Judy explained to Rachelle and I that this was a common history of displacement in Canada, people taken away, falling in love with their relatives without knowing, perhaps sensing a connection, always longing for a home (Campbell). I thought, “What a weight for this young woman to bear, this name, this history.” Other participants also learnt about each other this way through the sharing of stories. Many had come to Canada from other places, each with different cultural and colonial resonances. Through these moments of working together, new understandings formed that deeply affected the participants. In this way, layers of storytelling form the heart of this work.JA: Storytelling holds an incredibly special place in Aboriginal people’s lives; through them we learned the laws, rules, and regulations that governed our behaviour as individuals, within our family, our communities, and our nations. These stories included histories (personal and communal), sacred teachings, the way the world used to be, creation stories, medicine stories, stories regarding the seasons and animals, and stories that defined our relationship with the environment, etc. The stories we asked for not only showed that we as Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people have the same experiences, but also work in the way that a traditional story would. For example, Rachelle’s story taught a good lesson about how it is important to learn about the individual you are dating—had she not, her whole life could have been laid out to any who may have come across that man’s blog. My story spoke to the need to look up and observe what is around you instead of being engrossed in your own little world, because you don’t know who could be lifting your information. They all showed a common interest in sharing information, and laughing at mistakes and life lessons.Augmented Storytelling and Augmented RealityRC: This work relies on the augmented reality (AR) qualities of the QR code. Pavlik and Bridges suggest AR, even through relatively limited tools like a QR code, can have a significant impact on storytelling practices: “AR enriches an individual’s experience with the real world … Stories are put in a local context and act as a supplement to a citizen’s direct experience with the world” (Pavlik and Bridges 21). Their research shows that AR technologies like QR codes brings the story to life in a three dimensional and interactive form that allows the user a level of participation impossible in traditional, analogue media. They emphasize the different viewing possible in AR storytelling as: The new media storytelling model is nonlinear. The storyteller conceptualizes the audience member not as a consumer of the story engaged in a third-person narrative, but rather as a participant engaged in a first-person narrative. The storyteller invites the participant to explore the story in a variety of ways, perhaps beginning in the middle, moving across time, or space, or by topic. (Pavlik and Bridges 22) In their case studies, Pavlik and Bridges show AR has the “potential to become a viable storytelling format with a diverse range of options that engage citizens through sight, sound, or haptic experiences… to produce participatory, immersive, and community-based stories” (Pavlik and Bridges 39). The personal stories in this artwork were remediated a number of different ways. They were written down, then separated into one-line fragments, interwoven with our partners, and re-read again and again for the camera, before being edited and processed. Marked by the artists clearly as ‘Aboriginal’ and ‘non Aboriginal’ and placed alongside works featuring traditional beading, these stories were marked and re-inscribed by complex and fragmented histories of indigenous and non-indigenous relations in Canada. This history was emphasized as the QR codes were also physically located in the First Nations University of Canada, a unique indigenous space.To view this artwork in its entirety, therefore, two camera-enabled and internet-capable mobile devices were required to be used simultaneously. Due to the way they were accessed and played back through augmented reality technologies, stories in the gallery were experienced in nonlinear fashions, started part way through, left before completion, or not in sync with the partner they were designed to work with. The audience experimented with the video content, stopping and starting it to produce new combinations of words and images. This experience was also affected by chance as the video files online were on a cycle, after a set period of time, the scan would suddenly produce a new story. These augmented stories were recreated and reshaped by participants in dialogue with the space, and with each other. Augmented Stories and Improvised CommunitiesRC: In her 1997 study of the reception of new media art in galleries, Beryl Graham surveys the types of audience interaction common to new media art practices like AR art. She “reveals patterns of use of interactive artworks including the relation of use-time to gender, aspects of intimidation, and social interaction.” In particular, she observes “a high frequency of collective use of artworks, even when the artworks are designed to be used by one person” (Graham 2). What Graham describes as “collective” and “social,” I see as a type of improvisation engaging with difference, differences between audience members, and differences between human participants and the alien nature of sophisticated, interactive technologies. Improvisation “embodies real-time creative decision-making, risk-taking, and collaboration” (Heble). In the improvisatory act, participants participate in active listening in order to work with different voices, experiences, and practices, but share a common focus in the creative endeavour. Notions such as “the unexpected” or “the mistake” are constantly reconfigured into productive material. However, as leading improvisation studies scholar Ajay Heble suggests, “improvisation must be considered not simply as a musical or creative form, but as a complex social phenomenon that mediates transcultural inter-artistic exchanges that produce new conceptions of identity, community, history, and the body” (Heble). I watched at the opening as audience members in Parallel Worlds, Intersecting Moments paired up, successfully or unsuccessfully attempted to scan the code and download the video, and physically wrapped themselves around their partner (often a stranger) in order to hear the quiet audio in the loud gallery. The audience began to help each other through the process, to improvise together. The QR code was not always a familiar or comfortable object. The audience often had to install a QR code reader application onto their own device first, and then proceed to try to get the reader to work. Underfunded university Wi-Fi connections dropped, Apple ID logins failed, devices stalled. There were sudden loud cries when somebody successfully scanned their half of the work, and then rushes and scrambles as small groups of people attempted to sync their videos to start at the same time. The louder the gallery got, the closer the pairs had to stand to each other to hear the video through the device’s tiny speakers. Many people looked over someone else’s shoulder without their knowledge. Sometimes people were too close for comfort and behavior was negotiated and adapted. Sometimes, the pairs gave up trying; sometimes they borrowed each other’s devices, sometimes their phone or tablet was incompatible. Difference created new improvisations, or introduced sudden stops or diversions in the activities taking place. The theme of the work was strengthened every time an improvised negotiation took place, every time the technology faltered or succeeded, every time a digital or physical interaction was attempted. Through the combination of augmented bead practices used in an innovative way, and augmented technology with new audiences, new types of improvisatory responses could take place.Initially I found it difficult to not simplify and stereotype the processes taking place, to read it as a metaphor of the differing access to resources and training in Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal communities, a clear example of the ways technology-use marks wealth and status. As I moved through the space, caught up in dialogic, improvisatory encounters, cross-cultural experiences broke down, but did not completely erase, these initial markers of difference. Instead, layers of interaction and information began to be placed over the Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal identities in the gallery. My own assumptions were placed under pressure as I interacted with the artists and the other participants in the space. My identity as a relative newcomer to Saskatchewan was slowly augmented by the stories and experiences I shared and heard, and the audience members shifted back and forth between being experts in the aspects of the stories and technologies that were familiar, and asking for help to translate and activate the stories and processes that were alien.Augmented Art PracticesJA: There is an old saying, “if it doesn’t move, bead it.” I think that this desire to augment with the decorative is handed down through traditional thoughts and beliefs regarding clothing. Once nomadic we did not accumulate many goods, as a result, the goods we did keep were beautified though artistic practices including quilling and eventually beadwork (painting too). And our clothing was thought of as spiritual because it did the important act of protecting us from the elements, therefore it was thought of as sacred. To beautify the clothing was to honour your spirit while at the same time it honoured the animal that had given its life to protect you (Berlo and Phillips). I think that this belief naturally grew to include any item, after all, there is nothing like an object or piece of clothing that is beaded well—no one can resist it. There is, however, a belief that humans should not try to mimic perfection, which is reserved for the Creator and in many cases a beader will deliberately put a bead out of place.RC: When new media produces unexpected results, or as Rachelle says, when pixels “go out of place”, it can be seen as a sign that humans are (deliberately or accidently) failing to use the digital technology in the way it was intended. In Parallel Worlds, Intersecting Moments the theme of cross cultural encounters and technological communication was only enhanced by these moments of displacement and slippage and the improvisatory responses that took place. The artists could not predict the degree of slippage that would occur, but from their catalogue texts and the conversations above, it is clear that collective negotiation was a desired outcome. By creating a QR code based artwork that utilized augmented art practices to create new types of storytelling, the artists allowed augmented identities to develop, slip, falter, and be reconfigured. Through the dialogic art practices of traditional beading and participatory video work, Anderson and Knowles began to build new modes of communication and knowledge sharing. I believe there could be productive relationships to be further explored between what Judy calls the First Nations “desire to bead” whilst acknowledging human fallibility; and the ways Rachelle aims to technologically-augment conversation and storytelling through contemporary AR and video practices despite, or perhaps because of the possibility of risk and disruptions when bodies and code interact. What kind of trust and reciprocity becomes possible across cultural divides when this can be acknowledged as a common human quality? How could beads and/or pixels being “out of place” expose fault lines and opportunities in these kinds of cross-cultural knowledge transfer? As Judy suggested in our conversations, such work requires active engagement from the audience in the process that does not always occur. “In those instances, does the piece fail or people fail the piece? I'm not sure.” In crossing back and forth between these different types of augmentation impulses, and by creating improvisatory, dialogic encounters in the gallery, these artists began the tentative, complex, and vital process of cultural exchange, and invited participants and audience to take this step with them and to work “across traditional and contemporary modes of production” to “use the language and process of art to speak, listen, teach and learn” (Knowles and Anderson).ReferencesAdams, K.C. “Cyborg Hybrid \'cy·borg 'hi·brid\ n.” KC Adams, n.d. 16 Nov. 2013 ‹http://www.kcadams.net/art/arttotal.html›. Allen, Rex. “Don't Go Near the Indians.” Rex Allen Sings and Tells Tales of the Golden West. Mercury, 1962. LP and CD.Anderson, Judy, and Rachelle Viader Knowles. Parallel Worlds, Intersecting Moments. First Nations University of Canada Gallery; Slate Gallery, Regina, Saskatchewan, 2012. Art Placement. “Ruth Cuthand”. Artists. Art Placement, n.d. 16 Nov. 2013 ‹http://www.artplacement.com/gallery/artists.php›.Berlo, Janet Catherine, and Ruth B. Phillips. Native North American Art. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998. Campbell, Maria. Stories of the Road Allowance People. Penticton, B.C.: Theytus Books, 1995. Critical Faculties. Regina: University of Regina and First Nations University of Canada, 2012. Graham, Beryl C.E. “A Study of Audience Relationships with Interactive Computer-Based Visual Artworks in Gallery Settings, through Observation, Art Practice, and Curation”. Dissertation. University of Sunderland, 1997. Heble, Ajay. “About ICASP.” Improvisation, Community, and Social Practice. University of Guelph; Social Sciences Humanities Research Council of Canada, n.d. 16 Nov. 2011 ‹http://www.improvcommunity.ca/›.Kester, Grant. Conversation Pieces: Community and Communication in Modern Art. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2004. Knowles, Rachelle Viader. Rachelle Viader Knowles, n.d. 16 Nov. 2013 ‹http://uregina.ca/rvk›.Myre, Nadia. Nadia Myre. 16 Nov. 2013 ‹http://nadiamyre.com/NadiaMyre/home.html›. Pavlik, John G., and Frank Bridges. “The Emergence of Augmented Reality (AR) as a Storytelling Medium in Journalism.” Journalism & Communication Monographs 15.4 (2013): 4-59.

Contemporary definitions of resilience stress adaptability to changing ecological and economic conditions (Berkes, Colding and Folke; Castleden, McKee, Murray and Leonard 369). But this approach to resilience is a measure of individual ‘fitness’ to an adaptive whole (Hughes 165; McMahon et al.; Walker and Cooper). Not only is this incongruous with the experience of reproductive loss and infertility, it also works to sideline alternative forms or sources of resilience (Cox). In this paper, we share our efforts to build on previous theories of resilience by engaging in intimate dialogues and written reflections about our personal experiences with reproductive loss. Throughout the paper our reflections are interspersed with our ‘findings’ about the relationship between reproduction and resilience. For us, an active process of dialogically grounded reflection opened up the possibility of a different type of theoretical engagement, one that ultimately produced different enactments, and offered unexpected redirections, both of our experience with reproductive resilience, and in the resilience literature at large. This deeply personal, dialogical frame allowed us to move beyond the anecdotal and confessional to encompass a praxis that engaged the acutely affective reality of reproductive resiliency. Katherine: Three years ago, in the wake of the global financial crisis, I became interested in growing references to resilience in the media. I decided to start a graduate reading group on this theme. This was 'serious academic work.' We looked at questions like: Why has the UNDP rebranded itself 'Empowered Lives, Resilient Nations'? But my thinking about resilience was interrupted by a personal crisis. In January 2011, I was surprised and delighted to discover I was pregnant after years of clinically diagnosed 'unexplained infertility.' So my husband and I were devastated when, in May, a medical crisis (for me, not the baby) forced us to abort the pregnancy in its fifth month. Two years of exhausting medical interventions later, I learned that I am unable to bear children of my own—unable to reproduce—a fact which I am still actively struggling to reconcile. Ayumi: Strange the surprising state of affairs that would shift an employer and research lead into an acquaintance, confidante and friend. I initially learned of her challenges to carry a child to full term through proximity. As her teaching assistant I felt obliged to inform her that I had recently experienced an early miscarriage, and that it could possibly disrupt my work in her course. She was visibly pregnant at the time. Soon after, when I was participating in the resilience reading group, she miscarried as well. Reproductive Resilience A year or more passed before we spoke to each other about our losses, but when we did, we realised that we had both been influenced by dominant discourses around reproduction. Identifying the source of these pressures was an important topic of reflection for us. We found that dominant conceptions of reproductive resilience are overshadowed by a biological imperative to reproduce. When a woman is unable to conceive, or experiences a reproductive loss, she is told to ‘try again.’ There can be solace in trying, and in the ‘successful’ cases, a ‘happy resolution’ is achieved in subsequent pregnancies. But in other cases, the woman's body must produce several reproductive losses before medical professionals can understand the causes of her inability to reproduce (McMahon et al. 2007; Sexton, Byrd, and von Kluge 236). A series of increasingly invasive medical interventions can then be employed to increase the likelihood of reproduction. As a biological imperative, this type of reproductive resilience demands “progressive adaptation to a continually reinvented norm” (Walker and Cooper 156) of what it means to be fertile. But this is more than just a medical norm. Increasingly, reproduction also implies “adaptability to extremes of [ecological and economic] turbulence” (ibid.) that establish the conditions in which fertility is both experienced and understood, something that Katherine in particular had faced: Katherine: Why is it that we both ended up in this situation? Why is it that we are far from being alone in being 40 and childless? I am partly a product of the 1980s teen pregnancy hysteria in North America which made it an anathema for young women to ‘jeopardise’ their earning potential by having children. This makes me particularly bitter because I now understand that, at that moment in history, my society decided to prioritise my productive contributions to capital over socialised financing of the conditions that would allow me to produce a family. What I am suggesting is that the discourses which produce the preconceived notions that we attempt to ‘live up to’ are also discourses that we must, in many ways, ‘live with,’ because like it or not, they contributed to producing the situation which is now prompting us to write this paper! In this sense, reproductive resilience also becomes a measure of normalcy, where normalcy includes the adaptability of human bodies and biological process to the demands of a socio-economic system. Reproductive loss or infertility then becomes a source of personal weakness or abnormality that must be overcome, and a cause of personal degradation, which is often kept silent. In our experience, although individual responses differed greatly, either way the failure to reproduce demanded a response: Katherine: After my loss, I became determined to be pregnant again. For me IVF treatments were not so much about wanting to know with certainty my bodily ability to bring a child into the world. I was working under the perhaps rather desperate assumption that they would. I think of my IVF year more as desperation to achieve an end, a fear of failure, a crisis of sustainability, and a disbelief or disassociation from my own physical reality—the fact of my advancing age. The idea of ‘self-enclosed bodily anxiety’ captures this wonderfully for me. Ayumi: I did nothing, not a single consultation with a fertility expert, no visits to herbal medicine specialists, at most, a half-hearted internet search on adoption agencies. My path insisted upon embracing uncertainty over entrusting others with telling me the limits of my bodily integrity. When we began to share our stories with each other, we noticed that, despite having been surrounded by loving families and supportive colleagues at our times of crisis, both of us felt a tremendous sense of isolation as we tried to make sense of and respond to our losses. So a second area of reflection concerned the source of these emotions—both the sense of isolation, and the way in which it reinforced the normalisation of dominant discourses of reproductive resilience. We found that the reproductive industry’s medical interventions and specialised language community codify and reinforce measures of normalcy and sustain a coerced and often isolating process of adaptation to ever-more medicalised norms of fertility (Bonanno 753). This isolation is particularly apparent for women who choose to pursue fertility treatments. The language of medical intelligence is overwhelming and difficult to learn, creating a barrier between insiders and outsiders to fertility interventions (see for example: Kagan et al., S151). Fertility treatments are not only highly technical, but also a very introspective process, making it difficult for fertility partners, let alone friends and family, to fully comprehend what is going on, or to be involved. Meanwhile, support is difficult to find in a fertility clinic’s waiting room at 7am where groups of women silently await blood work to monitor hormone levels, avoiding eye contact by scanning their phones or reading a magazine. Many women turn instead to online forums, such as www.ivf.ca, where there is mutual comprehension wrapped in the security of anonymity. Rather than explain themselves each time they post to a forum, participants take up the language of reproductive medicine to detail their reproductive interventions in codified signature files (see Figure 1 below). Here, lengthy fertility campaigns become a merit badge of adaptability and perseverance. In their messages, participants share jingoistic mantras like ‘It only takes one!’, one harvested egg to have a child, as they cheer each other on in the search for a baby (Figure 2 below). These types of forums can empower insofar as they educate and encourage. However, they can also enclose and isolate as they cut patients off from family and friends, while creating external pressure to achieve a biological imperative suspended in changing parameters for what it means to be fertile. Figure 1: Example of a Signature File from an IVF Discussion Forum Figure 2: “It only takes one!” This kind of isolated adaptation to medicalised norms of fertility can come at a very high cost. For example, one friend was so traumatised by the multiple fertility interventions and failures it took for her to bear a child that she was ultimately unable to connect with the baby that she bore. The forward march of fertility treatments under the mounting pressure of advancing age required her to defer mourning for the multiple losses that she was experiencing: the loss of a child, the loss of normalcy, the loss of voice. She alone sustained the physical and psychological weight of reproductive resilience, and the pressures of achieving a ‘good outcome’ within the biological limits of her fertility window. When her daughter was born, she was engulfed by an avalanche of backlogged emotions—years of accumulated grief and stress. She was eventually diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder, and has struggled to develop a meaningful relationship with her child. But we also found that one need not pursue fertility treatments to experience the isolating and normalising effects of dominant conceptions of fertility. Some experienced infertility without feeling the need to consult medical professionals, or discover through initial consultations that a commercial and medicalised system was not the means through which they wanted to create a future for themselves. Others could find it difficult to contemplate the ‘reproduction’ of a ‘family’ when past experiences with family had been difficult. Yet, despite these decisions, changing norms of fertility continued to reinforce the biological imperative of reproduction in ways that become interwoven with tacitly heteronormative conceptualisations of the nature of family and community (Peters, Jackson, & Rudge 132-134). Katherine: Just the other day at the community garden, one of the gardeners, whom I had just met, wanted to know whether I had any children. When I said no, he bluntly asked me, ‘Why not?’ Just like that: ‘Why not?’ How can I even begin to answer this question? I’ve started to look people squarely in the eye and say, ‘I guess I must not be blessed.’ It’s not because I think I’m not blessed—my life is incredibly rewarding. It’s because it’s the best way I can think of to point out how inappropriate that line of questioning is. But I guess it’s also a defence… Ayumi: I do find that there is something deeply gendered and heterosexist about that line of questioning. As if there is some type of biological expectation for women to reproduce as a means to complete the family. And in absentia, in not raising the biological imperative with same-sex couples—in particular men, a whole host of assumptions are built into forming a good family. It’s like a double disrespect. In the first instance, the biological imperative falls on women, and in the second instance, the lack of expectation leaves many others out of the conversation. In total, we found that resilience always came with a modifier; otherwise we were left asking ‘resilience of what?’ ‘Resilience for what?’ Economic resilience, for example implied the adaptability of the capitalist system. Similarly, rather than expanding choices for and beyond women, the reproductive industry reinforced the normalcy of a gendered biological imperative that ultimately rested on the shoulders of an isolated individual. “The criteria of selection may well have shifted. Yet in the last instance, and for all its flexibility, the resilience perspective is no less rigorous in its selective function than Darwinian evolution” (Walker and Cooper 156). Dialogue Ayumi: To my surprise, she wanted to talk about it one day when we went for lunch, as though words would form the reality of her unexpected shift from pregnant to not-pregnant. The psychological experience of my own miscarriage had been devastating, so invisible, unannounced. Only those who needed to know were privy to the situation. Perhaps I quietly believed that if I spoke very little of it, it could almost have been mistaken for nothing other than conjecture or wishful thinking. Our conversation reproduced the reality of my failure to carry my child into childbirth. Her request for an empathetic listener would mean that a solitary introspection to resignify respect for my own body would give way to responding with due respect for her becoming no longer pregnant. Dialogue did more than just allow us to make sense of what we were experiencing. In conversation, reproductive resilience became something other than what we experienced in isolation. As experiences transformed into words, one perspective intermingled with and shaped the other, revealing imaginings that undid the closures and conclusions reached in our own minds, and offered an opportunity to reconsider the expectations of dominant narratives. Other possibilities surrounded, awaited contemplation, discursive engagement, solicitude in the shadows of experiences that coincided and diverged, resting assured that points of disagreement could be articulated as conjecture, wordless acknowledgement or future interactions. Our very different experiences and choices formed a context for conversation. We asked of one another: Why did this happen? How do you relate to your body? What do you feel is expected of you? What do you plan to do now? Upon dialogical reflection, it became clear that bodies, rather than being intentional enactments of adaptation, were more often than not products and reproductions of experiences and discourses: Ayumi: What kinds of biological, familial, technological, and economic imperatives are pressed upon our bodies? I wonder too about the ways in which consumerisation of reproduction plays upon our imagination of what it would be like to be a parent, creating a market and psychological demand for this life-changing acquisition of a human life. Perhaps these imperatives are operationalised as different mediations on the body, which is seen as a passive recipient of these directives. The externalisation and internalisation of our thoughts allowed us to see how our knowledge was suspended between our relationship with our body and the, often unexpressed, expectations of others which were based on their unexamined assumptions of what it meant to be a woman, a sexual being, a member of a family, a contributor to the community. Thinking about the body as something performed allowed us to use words to make real, reflect on, reproduce or recast our experiences: Katherine: I’m so independent, even in my relationship with my husband that I was a bit shocked at how my miscarriage rippled through my networks of friends, colleagues and family. People I hardly knew told me that they cried when they heard! I forget sometimes that my husband also suffered a huge loss, a blow to his identity and confidence, and a challenge to his sense of place. It is not just me who needs to engage with questions of resilience, but so does he, and we also need to do that together, and these processes will ripple through our networks of friends, family and co-workers in ways that affect the overall resiliency of a community of people. Ayumi: I talked to my partner about how deep down sometimes I feel that I've already done my work as a caregiver. I did a lot of volunteer and paid work with children when I was younger. I’ve taken care of so many children who ranged dramatically in age, mental and physical health and mobility, children who were dying and then died, and this took up so much of my teens, twenties and early thirties. I told him that while I've had that experience, he hasn't spent so much time with kids so that I wished for him to think about if this was something he wanted to explore (taking on a care giving / parental role), considering the options that are available to us through adoption or fostering. In dialogue, we figured out how to talk to one another, to locate a sense of fun within urgency, to reach toward mutual understanding, to test borders and to reshape them. Putting experiences and expectations into words allowed us to uncover expansive possibilities—options not considered, courses not taken. Ultimately, we began to think of reproductive resilience not as the means to achieve a biological imperative, but rather as a relational space of production. As we exchanged ideas, we came to question the assumption that reproductive resilience could be channeled through an individual body, and consequently we began to push back on definitions of fertility which served as measures of ‘fitness’ to a mythical adaptive whole. Through dialogue we resignified our individualised and isolated experiences with reproduction, turning what we experienced as vulnerability into a starting point for the reconceptualisation of resilience. This process—we call it ‘resiliency’ to distinguish it from adaptation—became an act of occupying our own reality in and through the relationships that surround us. Whereas resilience was about individual adaptations to shifting but still dominant norms of fertility, resiliency was about negotiating and constituting a fertile world through dialogues: Ayumi: I found our discussion of care a vitalising part of our conversations. Somehow, through forging different relations, the body propels resilience toward resisting external reinforcements to individualise reproduction and calls forth a collective response. Katherine: Today we discussed reproduction as a process of constructing a caring condition. Caring both in the sense of nurturing, but also in the sense of consideration. This was the most personally enriching part of our discussion – I felt empowered to make decisions about how I wanted to engage in caring and nurturing. This opened my mind to the possibility of adoption, but also to the fact that I express myself as a caring being in many other ways. Resiliency suggests actively engaging people and forces in ways that do not impose a certain order or state of affairs. But we struggled to think about how this new vision of reproductive resiliency would articulate with resistance. What does it mean to resist when biological failure renders acceptance of reproductive decline the only possible way forward? Though we can resist the conditions that created our current situations, we cannot resist our own pasts or our own biological reality. Should our inability to reproduce be seen as a victory in the fight against material myths of parental bliss? Or does our inability to reproduce make us the martyrs of the post-modern and neoliberal era? We want reproductive resiliency to offer a different experience of fertility. But we also want it to be a foundation to resist the normalisation of biological adaptation to the demands of a turbulent socio-economic system. We can do this by making a distinction between the biological act of reproduction (producing a baby), and the social reproducibility of care (nurturing, engaging, resisting, being, sharing, performing, etc.). Reproductive resiliency is concerned with nurturing the fertile enactments of human caring. It is on the basis of human caring that we can resist a system that creates the need for fertility adaptations, and it is also on this basis that we can open up room for thinking about reproductive resiliency in a respectful and socially engaged way. References Berkes, Fikret, Johan Colding and Carl Folke. “Introduction.” Navigating Social-Ecological Systems: Building Resilience for Complexity and Change. Ed. F. Berkes, J. Colding and C. Folke. Cambridge, U.K.: Cambridge University Press, 2002. Bonanno, George A. “Uses and Abuses of Resilience Construct: Loss, Trauma, and Health-Related Adversities. Social Science & Medicine 74.5 (2012): 753-756. Castleden, Matthew, Martin McGee, Virginia Murray & Giovanni Leonard. “Resilience Thinking in Health Protection. Journal of Public Health 33.3 (2011): 369-377. Cox, Pamela. “Marginalized Mothers, Reproductive Autonomy, and Repeat Losses to Care.” Journal of Law and Society 39.4 (2012): 541—561. 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Story spreads out through time the behaviors or bodies – the shapes – a self has been or will be, each replacing the one before. Hence a story has before and after, gain and loss. It goes somewhere…Moreover, shape or body is crucial, not incidental, to story. It carries story; it makes story visible; in a sense it is story. Shape (or visible body) is in space what story is in time. (Bynum, quoted in Garland Thomson, 113-114) Drawing on Goffman’s classic work on stigma, research documenting the existence of discrimination and bias against individuals classified as obese goes back five decades. Since Cahnman published “The Stigma of Obesity” in 1968, other researchers have well documented systematic and growing discrimination against fat people (cf. Puhl and Brownell; Puhl and Heuer; Puhl and Heuer; Fikkan and Rothblum). While weight-based stereotyping has a long history (Chang and Christakis; McPhail; Schwartz), contemporary forms of anti-fat stigma and discrimination must be understood within a social and economic context of neoliberal healthism. By neoliberal healthism (see Crawford; Crawford; Metzel and Kirkland), I refer to the set of discourses that suggest that humans are rational, self-determining actors who independently make their own best choices and are thus responsible for their life chances and health outcomes. In such a context, good health becomes associated with proper selfhood, and there are material and social consequences for those who either unwell or perceived to be unwell. While the greatest impacts of size-based discrimination are structural in nature, the interpersonal impacts are also significant. Because obesity is commonly represented (at least partially) as a matter of behavioral choices in public health, medicine, and media, to “remain fat” is to invite commentary from others that one is lacking in personal responsibility. Guthman suggests that this lack of empathy “also stems from the growing perception that obesity presents a social cost, made all the more tenable when the perception of health responsibility has been reversed from a welfare model” (1126). Because weight loss is commonly held to be a reasonable and feasible goal and yet is nearly impossible to maintain in practice (Kassierer and Angell; Mann et al.; Puhl and Heuer), fat people are “in effect, asked to do the impossible and then socially punished for failing” (Greenhalgh, 474). In this article, I explore how weight-based stigma shaped the decisions of bariatric patients to undergo weight loss surgery. In doing so, I underline the work that emotion does in circulating anti-fat stigma and in creating categories of subjects along lines of health and responsibility. As well, I highlight how fat bodies are lived and negotiated in space and place. I then explore ways in which participants take up notions of time, specifically in regard to risk, in discussing what brought them to the decision to have bariatric surgery. I conclude by arguing that it is a dynamic interaction between the material, social, emotional, discursive, and the temporal that produces not only fat embodiment, but fat subjectivity “failed”, and serves as an impetus for seeking bariatric surgery. Methods This article is based on 30 semi-structured interviews with American bariatric patients. At the time of the interview, individuals were between six months and 12 years out from surgery. After obtaining Intuitional Review Board approval, recruitment occurred through a snowball sample. All interviews were audio-taped with permission and verbatim interview transcripts were analyzed by means of a thematic analysis using Dedoose (www.dedoose.com). All names given in this article are pseudonyms. This work is part of a larger project that includes two additional interviews with bariatric surgeons as well as participant-observation research. Findings Navigating Anti-Fat Stigma In discussing what it was like to be fat, all but one of the individuals I interviewed discussed experiencing substantive size-based stigma and discrimination. Whether through overt comments, indirect remarks, dirty looks, open gawking, or being ignored and unrecognized, participants felt hurt, angry, and shamed by friends, family, coworkers, medical providers, and strangers on the street because of the size of their bodies. Several recalled being bullied and even physically assaulted by peers as children. Many described the experience of being fat or very fat as one of simultaneous hypervisibility and invisibility. One young woman, Kaia, said: “I absolutely was not treated like a person … . I was just like this object to people. Just this big, you know, thing. That’s how people treated me.” Nearly all of my participants described being told repeatedly by others, including medical professionals, that their inability to lose weight was effectively a failure of the will. They found these comments to be particularly hurtful because, in fact, they had spent years, even decades, trying to lose weight only to gain the weight back plus more. Some providers and family members seemed to take up the idea that shame could be a motivating force in weight loss. However, as research by Lewis et al.; Puhl and Huerer; and Schafer and Ferraro has demonstrated, the effect this had was the opposite of what was intended. Specifically, a number of the individuals I spoke with delayed care and avoided health-facilitating behaviors, like exercising, because of the discrimination they had experienced. Instead, they turned to health-harming practices, like crash dieting. Moreover, the internalization of shame and blame served to lower a sense of self-worth for many participants. And despite having a strong sense that something outside of personal behavior explained their escalating body weights, they deeply internalized messages about responsibility and self-control. Danielle, for instance, remarked: “Why could the one thing I want the most be so impossible for me to maintain?” It is important to highlight the work that emotion does in circulating such experiences of anti-fat stigma and discrimination. As Fraser et al have argued in their discussion on fat and emotion, the social, the emotional, and the corporeal cannot be separated. Drawing on Ahmed, they argue that strong emotions are neither interior psychological states that work between individuals nor societal states that impact individuals. Rather, emotions are constitutive of subjects and collectivities, (Ahmed; Fraser et al.). Negative emotions in particular, such as hate and fear, produce categories of people, by defining them as a common threat and, in the process, they also create categories of people who are deemed legitimate and those who are not. Thus following Fraser et al, it is possible to see that anti-fat hatred did more than just negatively impact the individuals I spoke with. Rather, it worked to produce, differentiate, and drive home categories of people along lines of health, weight, risk, responsibility, and worth. In this next section, I examine the ways in which anti-fat discrimination works at the interface of not only the discursive and the emotive, but the material as well. Big Bodies, Small Spaces When they discussed their previous lives as very fat people, all of the participants made reference to a social and built environment mismatch, or in Garland Thomson’s terms, a “misfit”. A misfit occurs “when the environment does not sustain the shape and function of the body that enters it” (594). Whereas the built environment offers a fit for the majority of bodies, Garland Thomson continues, it also creates misfits for minority forms of embodiment. While Garland Thomson’s analysis is particular to disability, I argue that it extends to fat embodiment as well. In discussing what it was like to navigate the world as fat, participants described both the physical and emotional pain entailed in living in bodies that did not fit and frequently discussed the ways in which leaving the house was always a potential, anxiety-filled problem. Whereas all of the participants I interviewed discussed such misfitting, it was notable that participants in the Greater New York City area (70% of the sample) spoke about this topic at length. Specifically, they made frequent and explicit mentions of the particular interface between their fat bodies and the Metropolitan Transit Authority (MTA), and the tightly packed spaces of the city itself. Greater New York City area participants frequently spoke of the shame and physical discomfort in having to stand on public transportation for fear that they would be openly disparaged for “taking up too much room.” Some mentioned that transit seats were made of molded plastic, indicating by design the amount of space a body should occupy. Because they knew they would require more space than what was allotted, these participants only took seats after calculating how crowded the subway or train car was and how crowded it would likely become. Notably, the decision to not take a seat was one that was made at a cost for some of the larger individuals who experienced joint pain. Many participants stated that the densely populated nature of New York City made navigating daily life very challenging. In Talia’s words, “More people, more obstacles, less space.” Participants described always having to be on guard, looking for the next obstacle. As Candice put it: “I would walk in some place and say, ‘Will I be able to fit? Will I be able to manoeuvre around these people and not bump into them?’ I was always self-conscious.” Although participants often found creative solutions to navigating the hostile environment of both the MTA and the city at large, they also identified an increasing sense of isolation that resulted from the physical discomfort and embarrassment of not fitting in. For instance, Talia rarely joined her partner and their friends on outings to movies or the theater because the seats were too tight. Similarly, Decenia would make excuses to her husband in order to avoid social situations outside of the home: “I’d say to my husband, ‘I don’t feel well, you go.’ But you know what? It was because I was afraid not to fit, you know?” The anticipatory scrutinizing described by these participants, and the anxieties it produced, echoes Kirkland’s contention that fat individuals use the technique of ‘scanning’ in order to navigate and manage hostile social and built environments. Scanning, she states, involves both literally rapidly looking over situations and places to determine accessibility, as well as a learned assessment and observation technique that allows fat people to anticipate how they will be received in new situations and new places. For my participants, worries about not fitting were more than just internal calculation. Rather, others made all too clear that fat bodies are not welcome. Nina recalled nasty looks she received from other subway riders when she attempted to sit down. Decenia described an experience on a crowded commuter train in which the woman next to her openly expressed annoyance and disgust that their thighs were touching. Talia recalled being aggressively handed a weight loss brochure by a fellow passenger. When asked to contrast their experiences living in New York City with having travelled or lived elsewhere, participants almost universally described the New York as a more difficult place to live for fat people. However, the experiences of three of the Latinas that I interviewed troubled this narrative. Katrina felt that the harassment she received in her country of origin, the Dominican Republic, was far worse than what she now experienced in the New York Metropolitan Area. Although Decenia detailed painful experiences of anti-fat stigma in New York City, she nevertheless described her life as relatively “easy” compared to what it was like in her home country of Brazil. And Denisa contrasted her neighbourhood of East Harlem with other parts of Manhattan: “In Harlem it's different. Everybody is really fat or plump – so you feel a bit more comfortable. Not everybody, but there's a mix. Downtown – there's no mix.” Collectively, their stories serve as a reminder (see Franko et al.; Grabe and Hyde) to be suspicious of over determined accounts that “Latino culture” is (or people of colour communities in general are), more accepting of larger bodies and more resistant to weight-based stigma and discrimination. Their comments also reflect arguments made by Colls, Grosz, and Garland Thomson, who have all pointed to the contingent nature between space and bodies. Colls argue that sizing is both a material and an emotional process – what size we take ourselves to be shifts in different physical and emotional contexts. Grosz suggests that there is a “mutually constitutive relationship between bodies and cities” – one that, I would add, is raced, classed, and gendered. Garland Thomson has described the relationship between bodies and space/place as “a dynamic encounter between world and flesh.” These encounters, she states, are always contingent and situated: “When the spatial and temporal context shifts, so does the fit, and with it meanings and consequences” (592). In this sense, fat is materialized differently in different contexts and in different scales – nation, state, city, neighbourhood – and the materialization of fatness is always entangled with raced, classed, and gendered social and political-economic relations. Nevertheless, it is possible to draw some structural commonalities between divergent parts of the Greater New York City Metropolitan Area. Specifically, a dense population, cramped physical spaces, inaccessible transportation and transportation funding cuts, social norms of fast paced life, and elite, raced, classed, and gendered norms of status and beauty work to materialize fatness in such a way that a ‘misfit’ is often the result for fat people who live and/or work in this area. And importantly, misfitting, as Garland Thomson argues, has consequences: it literally “casts out” when the “shape and function of … bodies comes into conflict with the shape and stuff of the built world” (594). This casting out produces some bodies as irrelevant to social and economic life, resulting in segregation and isolation. To misfit, she argues, is to be denied full citizenship. Responsibilising the Present Garland Thomson, discussing Bynum’s statement that “shape carries story”, argues the following: “the idea that shape carries story suggests … that material bodies are not only in the spaces of the world but that they are entwined with temporality as well” (596). In this section, I discuss how participants described their decisions to get weight loss surgery by making references to the need take responsibility for health now, in the present, in order to avoid further and future morbidity and mortality. Following Adams et al., I look at how the fat body is lived in a state of constant anticipation – “thinking and living toward the future” (246). All of the participants I spoke with described long histories of weight cycling. While many managed to lose weight, none were able to maintain this weight loss in the long term – a reality consistent with the medical fact that dieting does not produce durable results (Kassirer and Angell; Mann et al.; Puhl and Heuer). They experienced this inability as not only distressing, but terrifying, as they repeatedly regained the lost weight plus more. When participants discussed their decisions to have surgery, they highlighted concerns about weight related comorbidities and mobility limitations in their explanations. Consistent then with Boero, Lopez, and Wadden et al., the participants I spoke with did not seek out surgery in hopes of finding a permanent way to become thin, but rather a permanent way to become healthy and normal. Concerns about what is considered to be normative health, more than simply concerns about what is held to be an appropriate appearance, motivated their decisions. Significantly, for these participants the decision to have bariatric surgery was based on concerns about future morbidity (and mortality) at least as much, if not more so, than on concerns about a current state of ill health and impairment. Some individuals I spoke with were unquestionably suffering from multiple chronic and even life threatening illnesses and feared they would prematurely die from these conditions. Other participants, however, made the decision to have bariatric surgery despite the fact that they had no comorbidities whatsoever. Motivating their decisions was the fear that they would eventually develop them. Importantly, medial providers explicitly and repeatedly told all of these participants that lest they take drastic and immediate action, they would die. For example: Faith’s reproductive endocrinologist said: “you’re going to have diabetes by the time you’re 30; you’re going to have a stroke by the time you’re 40. And I can only hope that you can recover enough from your stroke that you’ll be able to take care of your family.” Several female participants were warned that without losing weight, they would either never become pregnant or they would die in childbirth. By contrast, participants stated that their bariatric surgeons were the first providers they had encountered to both assert that obesity was a medical condition outside of their control and to offer them a solution. Within an atmosphere in which obesity is held to be largely or entirely the result of behavioural choices, the bariatric profession thus positions itself as unique by offering both understanding and what it claims to be a durable treatment. Importantly, it would be a mistake to conclude that some bariatric patients needed surgery while others choose it for the wrong reasons. Regardless of their states of health at the time they made the decision to have surgery, the concerns that drove these patients to seek out these procedures were experienced as very real. Whether or not these concerns would have materialized as actual health conditions is unknown. Furthermore, bariatric patients should not be seen as having been duped or suffering from ‘false consciousness.’ Rather, they operate within a particular set of social, cultural, and political-economic conditions that suggest that good citizenship requires risk avoidance and personal health management. As these individuals experienced, there are material and social consequences for ‘failing’ to obtain normative conceptualizations of health. This set of conditions helps to produce a bariatric patient population that includes both those who were contending with serious health concerns and those who feared they would develop them. All bariatric patients operate within this set of conditions (as do medical providers) and make decisions regarding health (current, future, or both) by using the resources available to them. In her work on the temporalities of dieting, Coleman argues that rather than seeing dieting as a linear and progressive event, we might think of it instead a process that brings the future into the present as potential. Adams et al suggest concerns about potential futures, particularly in regard to health, are a defining characteristic of our time. They state: “The present is governed, at almost every scale, as if the future is what matters most. Anticipatory modes enable the production of possible futures that are lived and felt as inevitable in the present, rendering hope and fear as important political vectors” (249). The ability to act in the present based on potential future risks, they argue, has become a moral imperative and a marker of proper of citizenship. Importantly, however, our work to secure the ‘best possible future’ is never fully assured, as risks are constantly changing. The future is thus always uncertain. Acting responsibly in the present therefore requires “alertness and vigilance as normative affective states” (254). Importantly, these anticipations are not diagnostic, but productive. As Adams et al state, “the future arrives already formed in the present, as if the emergency has already happened…a ‘sense’ of the simultaneous uncertainty and inevitability of the future, usually manifest in entanglements of fear and hope” (250). It is in this light, then, that we might see the decision to have bariatric surgery. For these participants, their future weight-related morbidity and mortality had already arrived in the present and thus they felt they needed to act responsibly now, by undergoing what they had been told was the only durable medical intervention for obesity. The emotions of hope, fear, anxiety and I would suggest, hatred, were key in making these decisions. Conclusion Medical, public health, and media discourses frame obesity as an epidemic that threatens to bring untold financial disaster and escalating rates of morbidity and mortality upon the nation state and the world at large. As Fraser et al argue, strong emotions (such hatred, fear, anxiety, and hope), are at the centre of these discourses; they construct, circulate, and proliferate them. Moreover, they create categories of people who are deemed legitimate and categories of others who are not. In this context, the participants I spoke with were caught between a desire to have fatness understood as a medical condition needing intervention; the anti-fat attitudes of others, including providers, which held that obesity was a failure of the will and nothing more; their own internalization of these messages of personal responsibility for proper behavioural choices, and, the biologically intractable nature of fatness wherein dieting not only fails to reduce weight in the vast majority of cases but results, in the long term, in increased weight gain (Kassirer and Angell; Mann et al.; Puhl and Heuer). Widespread anxiety and embarrassment over and fear and hatred of fatness was something that the individuals I interviewed experienced directly and which signalled to them that they were less than human. Their desire for weight loss, therefore was partially a desire to become ‘normal.’ In Butler’s term, it was the desire for a ‘liveable life. ’A liveable life, for these participants, included a desire for a seamless fit with the built environment. The individuals I spoke with were never more ashamed of their fatness than when they experienced a ‘misfit’, in Garland Thomson’s terms, between their bodies and the material world. Moreover, feelings of shame over this disjuncture worked in tandem with a deeply felt, pressing sense that something must be done in the present to secure a better health future. The belief that bariatric surgery might finally provide a durable answer to obesity served as a strong motivating factor in their decisions to undergo bariatric surgery. By taking drastic action to lose weight, participants hoped to contest stigmatizing beliefs that their fat bodies reflected pathological interiors. Moreover, they sought to demonstrate responsibility and thus secure proper subjectivities and citizenship. In this sense, concerns, anxieties, and fears about health cannot be disentangled from the experience of anti-fat stigma and discrimination. Again, anti-fat bias, for these participants, was more than discursive: it operated through the circulation of emotion and was experienced in a very material sense. The decision to have weight loss surgery can thus be seen as occurring at the interface of emotion, flesh, space, place, and time, and in ways that are fundamentally shaped by the broader social context of neoliberal healthism. AcknowledgmentI am grateful to the anonymous reviewers of this article for their helpful feedback on earlier version. References Adams, Vincanne, Michelle Murphy, and Adele E. Clarke. “Anticipation: Technoscience, Life, Affect, Temporality.” Subjectivity 28.1 (2009): 246-265. 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