Journal articles on the topic 'France – International – Palestine'

This article focuses on how Jews realized Israel on Palestine land. In realizing the dream, Jews established their movement, namely Zionism, to take Palestine over Ottoman Turkey. To analyze it, historical analysis and approach by library research are needed in collecting the data. The study revealed that there were two strategies of Zionism. The first strategy is releasing Palestine from Ottoman Turkey authority. The second strategy is how to take over Palestine land, which was occupied by Palestinian Arabian. The first strategy consists of several ways: insinuating into Ottoman Turkey government and lobbying big countries such as Britain, France, and the USA. The second strategy started by controlling economics in Palestine. The Jewish people who lived in Palestine did it. They terrorized Palestinian people; hence they refugeed and left their homeland. The third strategy is the war between Jews and Arabian which was won by the Jews. Therefore, Israel proclamation did not find any obstacles. However, the proclamation triggered a reaction from Arabian countries, so that it made never-ending conflicts. Eventually, the conflict becomes an international matter.

‘ Palestine belongs to the Arabs in the same sense that England belongs to the English or France to the French.’ This remark made in November 1938 has been the most widely statement of Mahatma Gandhi on foreign policy, especially on Israel, Palestine and wider Middle East/West Asia. This was seen as the epitome of Gandhi’s ‘consistent’ opposition to the formation of a Jewish national home in Palestine. However, a closer reading of the article published in the 26 November issue of Harijan presents a more complex picture and depicts Gandhi’s unfamiliarity with Judaism and his limited understanding of Zionism. Furthermore, while demanding Jewish non-violence even against Hitler, he was accommodative of Arab violence in Palestine.

In December 2017, the administration of President D. Trump decided to move the US embassy in Israel from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem. On 28.09.2018, Palestine initiated proceedings against the US in connection with the said transfer. According to the ICJ Statute, only the parties of concern can take part in the case before the Court. However, it does open the way for non-member countries that had presented a declaration of submission to the Court’s jurisdiction, to observe. If there are any doubts as to the validity or effects of the declarations, they are decided by the ICJ. In the present case, doubts are connected, in particular, with the status of Palestine as a State, with the status of Jerusalem and with the participation in the proceedings of all interested parties. It is unclear whether Palestine meets the criteria of statehood under international law,and the nation is far from being universally recognized. Nor may the GA Resolution 67/19 be viewed as sufficient collective recognition. Furthermore, we do have reasonable doubt as to whether this is sufficient collective recognition to be essentially constitutive of Palestine’s statehood. This situation is not changed by the acceptance by Palestine of the jurisdiction of the ICC nor accession to UNESCO and to a number of international treaties. On the other hand, the jurisdiction of Israel with respect to East Jerusalem is also disputed. Certain international bodies, including the UNSC, have expressed doubts equally regarding the incorporation of Jerusalem into Israel or that Palestine has claim to the city. The mere submission of a claim by Palestine does not prejudge the existence of a legal title to Jerusalem. The legitimation of Palestine to bring to international court a claim is thus disputable under the law on state responsibility. It is probable that the ICJ would avoid rendering a decision on merits of the dispute, doing so by referring to the principle of Monetary Gold that was formulated by the ICJ in a judgment on 15.06.1954 in a dispute between Italy, on the one hand, and Great Britain, France and the US, on the other. The subject of the dispute was the fate of gold owned by the National Bank of Albania, plundered by Germany in Rome in 1943.In accordance with an arrangement concluded at the Paris Conference on German reparations (14.01.1946), all gold found in Germany that was known to have been plundered was to be returned in proportional shares to the States concerned. In the case of Albania, however, difficulties appeared in connection with two issues: claims by some States (in particular Italy) resulting from nationalisation of the National Bank of Albania, and compensation in favour of the UK due to the ICJ judgement in the Corfu Channel. It was disputable whether the gold belonging formerly to Albania could be redistributed among the unsatisfied claimants without the consent of the Albanian State. The Tribunal avoided the problem and decided that it lacked jurisdiction. It refused to render judgment in a situation in which Albania did not participate in the trial; on the other hand, the ICJ has indicated on what terms Albania could join the proceedings. Albania did not meet the conditions, and the Court decided that it was unable to continue the proceeding.

This article focuses on intellectuals—writers, philosophers, academics, scientists, and artists—who, by virtue of their accomplishments and talents, or simply because of their renown, wielded such moral authority that they became at times veritable “leaders of conscience,” influencing public opinion and, indeed, government policy in France. Responding to major events, whether colonial wars, international crises, or significant domestic political battles, French intellectuals weighed in time and again, from the Dreyfus affair to the bogus Sarkozy debate on “national identity.”1 This article reviews the stance of French intellectuals on the question of Palestine and the wider Arab-Israeli conflict, and examines how the ideological and political assumptions underlying their positions were not always amenable to rational explanation or easily ascribed to traditional attitudes of the Left and Right.

Korea has successfully hosted international sports events such as the 1986 Asian Games, the 1988 Seoul Olympics, and the 2002 World Cup. On August 27, 2011, the World Championships in Athletics were held in Daegu, and by hosting the 2018 Winter Olympics in Pyeongchang, it became the fifth country in the world to host all four major international sports events after France, Germany, Italy and Japan. However, it should be recognized that the threat of terror activities exists behind the hosting of international sporting events. The representative terror activities in relation to international sports events in the international community include the terror activities of hostage, kidnapping, and killing by the Black September Team under the Palestine Liberation Organization targeting Israeli athletes and officials at the Munich Olympics on September 5, 1972, a bombing attack that took place at Gimpo International Airport on September 14, 1986, a week before the Asian Games in Seoul, Korea, and the bombing of Korean Air Flight 858 over Andaman, Myanmar on November 29, 1987 to obstruct the 1988 Seoul Olympics, etc. This study aims to analyze cases of terror activities that occurred in relation to international sports events held in Korea, and at the same time forecast possible terror activities as a means to prevent or obstruct the holding of international sports events.

Abstract A century after the victorious Allied powers distributed their spoils of victory in 1919, the world still lives with the geopolitical consequences of the mandates system established by the League of Nations. The Covenant article authorizing the new imperial dispensation came cloaked in the old civilizationist discourse, entrusting sovereignty over “peoples not yet able to stand by themselves under the strenuous conditions of the modern world” to the “advanced nations” of Belgium, England, France, Japan, and South Africa. In this series of “reflections” on the mandates, ten scholars of Europe, Africa, the Middle East, Asia, and the international order consider the consequences of the new geopolitical order birthed by World War I. How did the reshuffling of imperial power in the immediate postwar period configure long-term struggles over minority rights, decolonization, and the shape of nation-states when the colonial era finally came to a close? How did the alleged beneficiaries—more often the victims—of this “sacred trust” grasp their own fates in a world that simultaneously promised and denied them the possibility of self-determination? From Palestine, to Namibia, to Kurdistan, and beyond, the legacies of the mandatory moment remain pressing questions today.

Subject. We analyze the aspects of Russia's cooperation with other countries in countering the economic crime. Objectives. The article analyzes methods and goals of Russia's cooperation with other countries, dealing with general issues and aspects coordinated by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Russian Federation, Federal Security Service, Federal Customs Service and Federal Service for Financial Monitoring. Methods. The study is based on the economic analysis, methods of classification and modeling, deduction and synthesis. Results. We studied what various international relations organizations of Russia do in countering the economic crime. We unveil some aspects of such a cooperation, i.e. legal attache, international treaties, common security council, communications, international compliance. Russia was found to cooperate most actively with Austria, Belarus, Belgium, Cyprus, Latvia, France, the USA, Spain, Germany, Kazakhstan, Palestine, Israel, Azerbaijan and Armenia. Conclusions and Relevance. States need the international cooperation and its advancement to effectively counteract with the economic crime. It is especially important as the transnational crime proliferates. However, the international cooperation is impossible if institutional, legal and regulatory aspects are not refined. The article suggests what should be dine to make the cooperation more effective.

Abstract The borders between North and South quickly erode when we study the history of anti-colonial revolutions. This is perhaps especially true of France, where the Palestinian revolution has been a rallying cry in the struggle for migrant rights for the past half century. This article investigates the reactivation of anti-colonialism in the postcolonial era, tracing the decades-long “postcolonial anti-colonial” movements born in migrant circles in France, from the 1970s to the present. What happens to the notion of anti-colonial revolution when it is brought back to the metropole? How does it change when it is brought to bear on the migrant question? First posed by the Palestine committees forged by migrant workers, foreign students, and Maoist militants in the wake of the September 1970 massacre of Palestinians in Jordan, these questions have shaped discourses around migrant rights in France for the past fifty years. In conclusion, this article revisits the archive of the migrant theater collective Al Assifa as it is remediated in Bouchra Khalili's 2017 film The Tempest Society, and speculates on the current place of migration in world historical discourses of decolonization.

AbstractOn Rosh Hashanah, 1961, six months before the conclusion of the Evian accords promised independence for Algeria, riots broke out in the city of Oran. Surprisingly to many, the aggressors were overwhelmingly Jews, while those injured or killed were largely Muslims. The events—widely covered in the media but since forgotten—were a product of Oran's particular social chemistry, but were also shaped by far wider set of debates about a chasm that was growing between Jews and Arabs in France, Algeria, and the wider Arab world. This article focuses on responses to these riots, especially how they drew on polemical renderings of a shared Muslim-Jewish history. I make two interrelated arguments based on printed matter of the period, French government archives, and memoirs. First, Algerian Jewish observers and pro-FLN nationalist writers, groups that only rarely agreed on the question of Algerian independence, both recalled that the two groups' shared a largely harmonious history. They vehemently disagreed, however, on what this shared, harmonious history meant in terms of political obligations. The article's second argument is that the Israel-Palestine conflict helped sour relations between Jews and Muslims in Algeria, as well as historical renderings of these relations, during the Algerian War of Independence. Specifically, the question of Palestine frequently appeared as a reference when interpreting the riots. Together, the two arguments demonstrate how international issues helped occlude the particular, local stories and belongingness of Algerians, while they defined the future, religio-ethnic contours of the Algerian nation.

Abstract A century after the victorious Allied powers distributed their spoils of victory in 1919, the world still lives with the geopolitical consequences of the mandates system established by the League of Nations. The Covenant article authorizing the new imperial dispensation came cloaked in the old civilizationist discourse, entrusting sovereignty over “peoples not yet able to stand by themselves under the strenuous conditions of the modern world” to the “advanced nations” of Belgium, England, France, Japan, and South Africa. In this series of AHR “reflections” on the mandates, ten scholars of Europe, Africa, the Middle East, Asia, and the international order consider the consequences of the new geopolitical order birthed by World War I. How did the reshuffling of imperial power in the immediate postwar period configure long-term struggles over minority rights, decolonization, and the shape of nation-states when the colonial era finally came to a close? How did the alleged beneficiaries—more often the victims—of this “sacred trust” grasp their own fates in a world that simultaneously promised and denied them the possibility of self-determination? From Palestine, to Namibia, to Kurdistan, and beyond, the legacies of the mandatory moment remain pressing questions today.

Abstract A century after the victorious Allied powers distributed their spoils of victory in 1919, the world still lives with the geopolitical consequences of the mandates system established by the League of Nations. The Covenant article authorizing the new imperial dispensation came cloaked in the old civilizationist discourse, entrusting sovereignty over “peoples not yet able to stand by themselves under the strenuous conditions of the modern world” to the “advanced nations” of Belgium, England, France, Japan, and South Africa. In this series of “reflections” on the mandates, ten scholars of Europe, Africa, the Middle East, Asia, and the international order consider the consequences of the new geopolitical order birthed by World War I. How did the reshuffling of imperial power in the immediate postwar period configure long-term struggles over minority rights, decolonization, and the shape of nation-states when the colonial era finally came to a close? How did the alleged beneficiaries—more often the victims—of this “sacred trust” grasp their own fates in a world that simultaneously promised and denied them the possibility of self-determination? From Palestine, to Namibia, to Kurdistan, and beyond, the legacies of the mandatory moment remain pressing questions today.

Abstract A century after the victorious Allied powers distributed their spoils of victory in 1919, the world still lives with the geopolitical consequences of the mandates system established by the League of Nations. The Covenant article authorizing the new imperial dispensation came cloaked in the old civilizationist discourse, entrusting sovereignty over “peoples not yet able to stand by themselves under the strenuous conditions of the modern world” to the “advanced nations” of Belgium, England, France, Japan, and South Africa. In this series of “reflections” on the mandates, ten scholars of Europe, Africa, the Middle East, Asia, and the international order consider the consequences of the new geopolitical order birthed by World War I. How did the reshuffling of imperial power in the immediate postwar period configure long-term struggles over minority rights, decolonization, and the shape of nation-states when the colonial era finally came to a close? How did the alleged beneficiaries—more often the victims—of this “sacred trust” grasp their own fates in a world that simultaneously promised and denied them the possibility of self-determination? From Palestine, to Namibia, to Kurdistan, and beyond, the legacies of the mandatory moment remain pressing questions today.

Abstract A century after the victorious Allied powers distributed their spoils of victory in 1919, the world still lives with the geopolitical consequences of the mandates system established by the League of Nations. The Covenant article authorizing the new imperial dispensation came cloaked in the old civilizationist discourse, entrusting sovereignty over “peoples not yet able to stand by themselves under the strenuous conditions of the modern world” to the “advanced nations” of Belgium, England, France, Japan, and South Africa. In this series of “reflections” on the mandates, ten scholars of Europe, Africa, the Middle East, Asia, and the international order consider the consequences of the new geopolitical order birthed by World War I. How did the reshuffling of imperial power in the immediate postwar period configure long-term struggles over minority rights, decolonization, and the shape of nation-states when the colonial era finally came to a close? How did the alleged beneficiaries—more often the victims—of this “sacred trust” grasp their own fates in a world that simultaneously promised and denied them the possibility of self-determination? From Palestine, to Namibia, to Kurdistan, and beyond, the legacies of the mandatory moment remain pressing questions today.

Abstract A century after the victorious Allied powers distributed their spoils of victory in 1919, the world still lives with the geopolitical consequences of the mandates system established by the League of Nations. The Covenant article authorizing the new imperial dispensation came cloaked in the old civilizationist discourse, entrusting sovereignty over “peoples not yet able to stand by themselves under the strenuous conditions of the modern world” to the “advanced nations” of Belgium, England, France, Japan, and South Africa. In this series of “reflections” on the mandates, ten scholars of Europe, Africa, the Middle East, Asia, and the international order consider the consequences of the new geopolitical order birthed by World War I. How did the reshuffling of imperial power in the immediate postwar period configure long-term struggles over minority rights, decolonization, and the shape of nation-states when the colonial era finally came to a close? How did the alleged beneficiaries—more often the victims—of this “sacred trust” grasp their own fates in a world that simultaneously promised and denied them the possibility of self-determination? From Palestine, to Namibia, to Kurdistan, and beyond, the legacies of the mandatory moment remain pressing questions today.

Abstract A century after the victorious Allied powers distributed their spoils of victory in 1919, the world still lives with the geopolitical consequences of the mandates system established by the League of Nations. The Covenant article authorizing the new imperial dispensation came cloaked in the old civilizationist discourse, entrusting sovereignty over “peoples not yet able to stand by themselves under the strenuous conditions of the modern world” to the “advanced nations” of Belgium, England, France, Japan, and South Africa. In this series of “reflections” on the mandates, ten scholars of Europe, Africa, the Middle East, Asia, and the international order consider the consequences of the new geopolitical order birthed by World War I. How did the reshuffling of imperial power in the immediate postwar period configure long-term struggles over minority rights, decolonization, and the shape of nation-states when the colonial era finally came to a close? How did the alleged beneficiaries—more often the victims—of this “sacred trust” grasp their own fates in a world that simultaneously promised and denied them the possibility of self-determination? From Palestine, to Namibia, to Kurdistan, and beyond, the legacies of the mandatory moment remain pressing questions today.

Abstract A century after the victorious Allied powers distributed their spoils of victory in 1919, the world still lives with the geopolitical consequences of the mandates system established by the League of Nations. The Covenant article authorizing the new imperial dispensation came cloaked in the old civilizationist discourse, entrusting sovereignty over “peoples not yet able to stand by themselves under the strenuous conditions of the modern world” to the “advanced nations” of Belgium, England, France, Japan, and South Africa. In this series of “reflections” on the mandates, ten scholars of Europe, Africa, the Middle East, Asia, and the international order consider the consequences of the new geopolitical order birthed by World War I. How did the reshuffling of imperial power in the immediate postwar period configure long-term struggles over minority rights, decolonization, and the shape of nation-states when the colonial era finally came to a close? How did the alleged beneficiaries—more often the victims—of this “sacred trust” grasp their own fates in a world that simultaneously promised and denied them the possibility of self-determination? From Palestine, to Namibia, to Kurdistan, and beyond, the legacies of the mandatory moment remain pressing questions today.

Abstract A century after the victorious Allied powers distributed their spoils of victory in 1919, the world still lives with the geopolitical consequences of the mandates system established by the League of Nations. The Covenant article authorizing the new imperial dispensation came cloaked in the old civilizationist discourse, entrusting sovereignty over “peoples not yet able to stand by themselves under the strenuous conditions of the modern world” to the “advanced nations” of Belgium, England, France, Japan, and South Africa. In this series of “reflections” on the mandates, ten scholars of Europe, Africa, the Middle East, Asia, and the international order consider the consequences of the new geopolitical order birthed by World War I. How did the reshuffling of imperial power in the immediate postwar period configure long-term struggles over minority rights, decolonization, and the shape of nation-states when the colonial era finally came to a close? How did the alleged beneficiaries—more often the victims—of this “sacred trust” grasp their own fates in a world that simultaneously promised and denied them the possibility of self-determination? From Palestine, to Namibia, to Kurdistan, and beyond, the legacies of the mandatory moment remain pressing questions today.

Returning to the pattern of previous years, this review provides a broad overview of recent unpublished doctoral theses from both Britain and the United States – mostly completed in 1997. Employing a broad interpretation of ‘urban history’ which includes both the history of, and history in, urban areas, it consists of brief summaries based on abstracts published in the Aslib Index to Theses [ASLIB] and Dissertations Abstracts International[DAI]. The thirty-nine dissertations explore subjects ranging chronologically from the third millennium BC to the 1990s, with the majority covering the late nineteenth through to the mid-twentieth centuries, with another smaller concentration focusing on the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Spatially most cover British (15) and North American (10) subjects, though there are studies of elements of urban history in France, Germany, China, Venezuela and Cape Colony, as well as studies comparing British cities with similar places in France and Holland, Ireland and the United States. Though many different types of urban settlement are represented in the theses under review – including some of the earliest in Syro-Palestine – the British selection is dominated by work on London (7) along with a smaller number covering Belfast and Liverpool, whilst American studies include four exploring aspects of late nineteenth- and early-twentieth century Chicago and two on Caracas, Venezuela, in the same period. In terms of subject, ‘space’ – the theme of the recent Urban History Group conference in Oxford – features prominently, as does cultural politics ranging from a redefinition of the meaning of ‘misrule’ in the medieval period to two studies of the importance of culture in the American Civil Rights Movement and the eighteenth-century British and Irish port town. These newer organizing concepts and locations feature alongside the more usual subjects such as the law, policing, leisure, gender and ethnicity and a revival of interest in London, especially in the early modern period.

The article analyzes the Middle East policy of the leading EU member states in the period of the Iraqi and Lebanese crises. The author notes that the war in Iraq caused disagreements between France and Germany and the United States, but in general it did not affect the high level of relations between these countries. The Iraqi crisis contributed to increased tensions in the Middle East. In order to resume Palestinian-Israeli negotiations, a Quartet of international mediators (the United States, the UN, the EU, and Russia) was created, which introduced a “road map” for settlement. But soon there emerged differences in the Quartet on its separate points. They increased because of the actions of Israel on the implementation of the “unilateral disengagement” plan. During the war in Lebanon, the EU member states called for the introduction of UN peacekeepers into the country. The US authorities did not agree with this and proposed to introduce a NATO peacekeeping contingent in Lebanon. In turn, France did not support the American plan, considering it unproductive. The Lebanese crisis revealed differences between France and the United States, preserved since the beginning of the war in Iraq. Within the framework of the EU Middle East strategy, the principles of European policy were developed, among which priority was given to assistance in the establishment of a Palestinian state and assistance to Palestinians in the transition period. The EU launched a plan for the reconstruction and development of the Palestinian state, the Future for Palestine, which would provide financial assistance to the Palestinian government, upbringing and educational measures for Palestinian youth, psychological assistance to victims of the Second Palestinian Intifada, etc. After the victory in the presidential election, the new US administration appealed to the conflicting parties to resume negotiations. New moments in the US approach to the Middle East settlement were met with approval in the European Union. Aware at the same time that the initiative right to the Middle East settlement still belongs to the United States, the leading EU member states had difficulty in putting forward their settlement plan, so they were limited to supporting the American program. After the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, in New York and Washington, the influence of political Islam in the Arab world increased markedly, to which the US authorities did not react properly. On the contrary, they sought to thoroughly reconstruct the “Greater Middle East” on the basis of Western democracy. The complex and contradictory nature of the processes developing in Iraq and Afghanistan, as well as the threat of the US military force against Iran, testified to this. In this difficult situation, issues related to the promotion of the Middle East peace process became even more urgent. The article concludes that the Quartet of international mediators should have made efforts to reach a comprehensive agreement as soon as possible, opening the way to peace in the Middle East.

Water reuse is gaining momentum as a beneficial practice to address the water crisis, especially in the agricultural sector as the largest water consumer worldwide. With recent advancements in wastewater treatment technologies, it is possible to produce almost any water quality. However, the main human and environmental concerns are still to determine what constituents must be removed and to what extent. The main objectives of this study were to compile, evaluate, and compare the current agricultural water reuse regulations and guidelines worldwide, and identify the gaps. In total, 70 regulations and guidelines, including Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), International Organization for Standardization (ISO), Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (FAO), World Health Organization (WHO), the United States (state by state), European Commission, Canada (all provinces), Australia, Mexico, Iran, Egypt, Tunisia, Jordan, Palestine, Oman, China, Kuwait, Israel, Saudi Arabia, France, Cyprus, Spain, Greece, Portugal, and Italy were investigated in this study. These regulations and guidelines were examined to compile a comprehensive database, including all of the water quality monitoring parameters, and necessary treatment processes. In summary, results showed that the regulations and guidelines are mainly human-health centered, insufficient regarding some of the potentially dangerous pollutants such as emerging constituents, and with large discrepancies when compared with each other. In addition, some of the important water quality parameters such as some of the pathogens, heavy metals, and salinity are only included in a small group of regulations and guidelines investigated in this study. Finally, specific treatment processes have been only mentioned in some of the regulations and guidelines, and with high levels of discrepancy.

The DebateQuestion 1: Various commentators have frequently invoked the importance of moderate Muslims and the role that they can play in fighting extremism in the Muslim world. But it is not clear who is a moderate Muslim. The recent cancellation of Tariq Ramadan’s visa to the United States, the raids on several American Muslim organizations, and the near marginalization of mainstream American Muslims in North America pose the following question: If moderate Muslims are critical to an American victory in the war on terror, then why does the American government frequently take steps that undermine moderate Muslims? Perhaps there is a lack of clarity about who the moderate Muslims are. In your view, who are these moderate Muslims and what are their beliefs and politics? JLE: Our human tendency is to define what is normal or moderate in terms of someone just like “us.” The American government, as well as many western and Muslim governments and experts, define moderate by searching for reflections of themselves. Thus, Irshad Manji or “secular” Muslims are singled out as self-critical moderate Muslims by such diverse commentators as Thomas Friedman or Daniel Pipes. In an America that is politicized by the “right,” the Republican and religious right, and post-9/11 by the threat of global terrorism and the association of Islam with global terrorism, defining a moderate Muslim becomes even more problematic. Look at the situations not only in this country but also in Europe, especially France. Is a moderate Muslim one who accepts integration, or must it be assimilation? Is a moderate Muslim secular, as in laic (which is really anti-religious)? Is a moderate Muslim one who accepts secularism, as in the separation of church and state, so that no religion is privileged and the rights of all (believer and nonbeliever) are protected? Is a moderate Muslim one who accepts a particular notion of gender relations, not simply the equality of women and men but a position against wearing hijab? (Of course let’s not forget that we have an analogous problem with many Muslims whose definition of being a Muslim, or of being a “good” Muslim woman, is as narrowly defined.) In today’s climate, defining who is a moderate Muslim depends on the politics or religious positions of the individuals making the judgment: Bernard Lewis, Daniel Pipes, Gilles Kepel, Stephen Schwartz, Pat Robertson, and Tom DeLay. The extent to which things have gotten out of hand is seen in attempts to define moderate Islam or what it means to be a good European or American Muslim. France has defined the relationship of Islam to being French, sought to influence mosques, and legislated against wearing hijab in schools. In the United States, non-Muslim individuals and organizations, as well as the government, establish or fund organizations that define or promote “moderate Islam,” Islamic pluralism, and so on, as well as monitor mainstream mosques and organizations. The influence of foreign policy plays a critical role. For some, if not many, the litmus test for a moderate Muslim is tied to foreign policy issues, for example, how critical one is of American or French policy or one’s position in regard to Palestine/Israel, Algeria, Kashmir, and Iraq. Like many Muslim regimes, many experts and ideologues, as well as publications like The Weekly Standard, National Review, The Atlantic, The New York Sun and media like Fox Television, portray all Islamists as being the same. Mainstream and extremist (they deny any distinction between the two) and indeed all Muslims who do not completely accept their notion of secularism, the absolute separation of religion and the state, are regarded as a threat. Mainstream Islamists or other Islamically oriented voices are dismissed as “wolves in sheep’s clothing.” What is important here is to emphasize that it is not simply that these individuals, as individual personalities, have influence and an impact, but that their ideas have taken on a life of their own and become part of popular culture. In a post-9/11 climate, they reinforce the worst fears of the uninformed in our populace. The term moderate is in many ways deceptive. It can be used in juxtaposition to extremist and can imply that you have to be a liberal reformer or a progressive in order to pass the moderate test, thus excluding more conservative or traditionalist positions. Moderates in Islam, as in all faiths, are the majority or mainstream in Islam. We assume this in regard to such other faiths as Judaism and Christianity. The Muslim mainstream itself represents a multitude of religious and socioeconomic positions. Minimally, moderate Muslims are those who live and work “within” societies, seek change from below, reject religious extremism, and consider violence and terrorism to be illegitimate. Often, in differing ways, they interpret and reinterpret Islam to respond more effectively to the religious, social, and political realities of their societies and to international affairs. Some seek to Islamize their societies but eschew political Islam; others do not. Politically, moderate Muslims constitute a broad spectrum that includes individuals ranging from those who wish to see more Islamically oriented states to “Muslim Democrats,” comparable to Europe’s Christian Democrats. The point here is, as in other faiths, the moderate mainstream is a very diverse and disparate group of people who can, in religious and political terms, span the spectrum from conservatives to liberal reformers. They may disagree or agree on many matters. Moderate Jews and Christians can hold positions ranging from reform to ultraorthodox and fundamentalist and, at times, can bitterly disagree on theological and social policies (e.g., gay rights, abortion, the ordination of women, American foreign and domestic policies). So can moderate Muslims.

The DebateQuestion 1: Various commentators have frequently invoked the importance of moderate Muslims and the role that they can play in fighting extremism in the Muslim world. But it is not clear who is a moderate Muslim. The recent cancellation of Tariq Ramadan’s visa to the United States, the raids on several American Muslim organizations, and the near marginalization of mainstream American Muslims in North America pose the following question: If moderate Muslims are critical to an American victory in the war on terror, then why does the American government frequently take steps that undermine moderate Muslims? Perhaps there is a lack of clarity about who the moderate Muslims are. In your view, who are these moderate Muslims and what are their beliefs and politics? JLE: Our human tendency is to define what is normal or moderate in terms of someone just like “us.” The American government, as well as many western and Muslim governments and experts, define moderate by searching for reflections of themselves. Thus, Irshad Manji or “secular” Muslims are singled out as self-critical moderate Muslims by such diverse commentators as Thomas Friedman or Daniel Pipes. In an America that is politicized by the “right,” the Republican and religious right, and post-9/11 by the threat of global terrorism and the association of Islam with global terrorism, defining a moderate Muslim becomes even more problematic. Look at the situations not only in this country but also in Europe, especially France. Is a moderate Muslim one who accepts integration, or must it be assimilation? Is a moderate Muslim secular, as in laic (which is really anti-religious)? Is a moderate Muslim one who accepts secularism, as in the separation of church and state, so that no religion is privileged and the rights of all (believer and nonbeliever) are protected? Is a moderate Muslim one who accepts a particular notion of gender relations, not simply the equality of women and men but a position against wearing hijab? (Of course let’s not forget that we have an analogous problem with many Muslims whose definition of being a Muslim, or of being a “good” Muslim woman, is as narrowly defined.) In today’s climate, defining who is a moderate Muslim depends on the politics or religious positions of the individuals making the judgment: Bernard Lewis, Daniel Pipes, Gilles Kepel, Stephen Schwartz, Pat Robertson, and Tom DeLay. The extent to which things have gotten out of hand is seen in attempts to define moderate Islam or what it means to be a good European or American Muslim. France has defined the relationship of Islam to being French, sought to influence mosques, and legislated against wearing hijab in schools. In the United States, non-Muslim individuals and organizations, as well as the government, establish or fund organizations that define or promote “moderate Islam,” Islamic pluralism, and so on, as well as monitor mainstream mosques and organizations. The influence of foreign policy plays a critical role. For some, if not many, the litmus test for a moderate Muslim is tied to foreign policy issues, for example, how critical one is of American or French policy or one’s position in regard to Palestine/Israel, Algeria, Kashmir, and Iraq. Like many Muslim regimes, many experts and ideologues, as well as publications like The Weekly Standard, National Review, The Atlantic, The New York Sun and media like Fox Television, portray all Islamists as being the same. Mainstream and extremist (they deny any distinction between the two) and indeed all Muslims who do not completely accept their notion of secularism, the absolute separation of religion and the state, are regarded as a threat. Mainstream Islamists or other Islamically oriented voices are dismissed as “wolves in sheep’s clothing.” What is important here is to emphasize that it is not simply that these individuals, as individual personalities, have influence and an impact, but that their ideas have taken on a life of their own and become part of popular culture. In a post-9/11 climate, they reinforce the worst fears of the uninformed in our populace. The term moderate is in many ways deceptive. It can be used in juxtaposition to extremist and can imply that you have to be a liberal reformer or a progressive in order to pass the moderate test, thus excluding more conservative or traditionalist positions. Moderates in Islam, as in all faiths, are the majority or mainstream in Islam. We assume this in regard to such other faiths as Judaism and Christianity. The Muslim mainstream itself represents a multitude of religious and socioeconomic positions. Minimally, moderate Muslims are those who live and work “within” societies, seek change from below, reject religious extremism, and consider violence and terrorism to be illegitimate. Often, in differing ways, they interpret and reinterpret Islam to respond more effectively to the religious, social, and political realities of their societies and to international affairs. Some seek to Islamize their societies but eschew political Islam; others do not. Politically, moderate Muslims constitute a broad spectrum that includes individuals ranging from those who wish to see more Islamically oriented states to “Muslim Democrats,” comparable to Europe’s Christian Democrats. The point here is, as in other faiths, the moderate mainstream is a very diverse and disparate group of people who can, in religious and political terms, span the spectrum from conservatives to liberal reformers. They may disagree or agree on many matters. Moderate Jews and Christians can hold positions ranging from reform to ultraorthodox and fundamentalist and, at times, can bitterly disagree on theological and social policies (e.g., gay rights, abortion, the ordination of women, American foreign and domestic policies). So can moderate Muslims.

Spiro Munayyer's account begins immediately after the United Nations General Assembly partition resolution of 29 November 1947 and culminates in the cataclysmic four days of Lydda's conquest by the Israeli army (10-14 July 1948) during which 49,000 of Lydda's 50,000 inhabitants ("swollen" with refugees) were forcefully expelled, the author himself being one of those few allowed to remain in his hometown. Although the author was not in a position of political or military responsibility, he was actively involved in Lydda's resistance movement both as the organizer of the telephone network linking up the various sectors of Lydda's front lines and as a volunteer paramedic, in which capacity he accompanied the city's defenders in most of the battles in which they took part. The result is one of the very few detailed eye-witness accounts that exists from the point of view of an ordinary Palestinian layman of one of the most important and tragic episodes of the 1948 war. The conquest of Lydda (and of its neighbor, Ramla, some five kilometers to the south) was the immediate objective of Operation Dani-the major offensive launched by the Israeli army at the order of Ben-Gurion during the so-called "Ten Days" of fighting (8-18 July 1948), between the First Truce (11 June-8 July) and the Second Truce (which started on 18 July and lasted, in theory, until the armistice agreements of 1949). The further objective of Operation Dani was to outflank the Transjordanian Arab Legion positions at Latrun (commanding the defile at Bab al-Wad, where the road from the coast starts climbing toward Jerusalem) in order to penetrate central Palestine and capture Rumallah and Nablus. Lydda and Ramla and the surrounding villages fell within the boundaries of the Arab state according to the UNGA partition resolution. Despite their proximity to Tel Aviv and the fall of many Palestinian towns since April (Tiberias, Haifa, Jaffa, Safad, Acre, and Baysan), they had held out until July even though little help had reached them from the Arab armies entering on 15 May. Their strategic importance was enormous because of their location at the intersection of the country's main north-south and west-east road and rail lines. Palestine's largest British army camp at Sarafand was a few kilometers west of Lydda, its main international airport an equal distance to the north, its central railway junction at Lydda itself. Ras al-Ayn, fifteen kilometers north of Lydda, was the main source of Jerusalem's water supply, while one of the largest British depots was at Bayt Nabala, seven kilometers to its northeast. The Israeli forces assembled for Operation Dani were put under the overall command of Yigal Allon, the Palmach commander. They consisted of the two Palmach brigades (Yiftach and Harel, the latter under the command of Yitzhak Rabin), the Eighth Armored Brigade composed of the Second Tank Battalion and the Ninth Commando Battalion (the former under the command of Yitzhak Sadeh, founder of the Palmach, the latter under that of Moshe Dayan), the Second Battalion Kiryati Brigade, the Third Battalion Alexandroni Brigade, and several units of the Kiryati Garrison Troops (Khayl Matzav). The Eighth Armored Brigade had a high proportion of World War II Jewish veterans volunteering from the United States, Britain, France, and South Africa (under the so-called MAHAL program), while its two battalions also included 700 members of the Irgun Zva'i Le'umi (IZL). The total strength of the Israeli attackers was about 8,000 men. The only regular Arab troops defending Lydda (and Ramla) was a minuscule force of 125 men-the Fifth Infantry Company of the Transjordanian Arab Legion. The defenders of Lydda (and Ramla) were volunteer civilian residents, like the author, under the command of a retired sergeant who had served in the Arab Legion. The reason for the virtual absence of Arab regular troops in the Lydda-Ramla sector was that the Arab armies closest to it (the Egyptian in the south, the Arab Legion in the east, and the Iraqi in the north) were already overstretched. The Egyptian northernmost post was at Isdud, thirty-two kilometers north of Gaza and a like distance southeast of Ramla-Lydda as the crow flies. The Iraqi southernmost post was at Ras al-Ayn, where they were weakest. And although the Arab Legion was in strength some fifteen kilometers due east at Latrun, the decision had been taken not to abandon its positions on the hills between Ras al-Ayn and Latrun for fear of being outflanked and cut off by the superior Israeli forces in the plains where Lydda and Ramla were situated. Indeed, as General Glubb, commander of the Arab Legion, informs us, he had told King Abdallah and the Transjordanian prime minister Tawfiq Abu Huda even before the end of the Mandate on 15 May that the Legion did not have the forces to hold and defend Lydda and Ramla against Israeli attacks despite the fact that these towns were in the area assigned to the Arabs by the UNGA partition resolution. This explains the token force of the Arab Legion-the Fifth Infantry Company. Thus, the fate of Lydda (and Ramla) was sealed the moment Operation Dani was launched. The Israeli forces did not attack Lydda from the west (where Lydda's defenses facing Tel Aviv were strongest), as the garrison commander Sergeant Hamza Subh expected. Instead, they split into two main forces, northern and southern, which were to rendezvous at the Jewish colony of Ben Shemen east of Lydda and then advance on Lydda from there. After capturing Lydda from the east they were to advance on Ramla, attacking it from the north while making feints against it from the west. Operation Dani began on the night of 9-10 July. Simultaneously with the advance of the ground troops, Lydda and Ramla were bombed from the air. In spite of the surprise factor, the defenders in the eastern sector of Lydda put up stout resistance throughout the 10th against vastly superior forces attacking from Ben Shemen in the north and the Arab village of Jimzu to the south. In the afternoon, Dayan rode with his Commando Battalion of jeeps and half-tracks through Lydda in a hit-and-run raid lasting under one hour "shooting up the town and creating confusion and a degree of terror among the population," as the Jewish brothers Jon and David Kimche put it. This discombobulated the defenders, some of whom surrendered. But the following morning (11 July) a small force of three Arab Legion armored cars entered Lydda, their mission being to help in the evacuation of the beleaguered Fifth Infantry Company. Their sudden appearance both panicked the Israeli troops and rallied the defenders who had not surrendered. The Israeli army put down what it subsequently described as the city's "uprising" with utmost brutality, leaving in a matter of hours in the city's streets about 250 civilian dead in an orgy of indiscriminate killing. Resistance continued sporadically during the 12th and 13th of July, its focus being Lydda's police station, which was finally overrun. As of 11 July, the Israeli army began the systematic expulsion of the residents of Lydda and Ramla (the latter having fallen on 12 July) toward the Arab Legion lines in the east. Also expelled were the populations of some twenty-five villages conquered during Operation Dani, making a total of some 80,000 expellees-the largest single instance of deliberate mass expulsion during the 1948 war. Most of the expellees were women, children, and elderly men, most of the able-bodied men having been taken prisoner. Memories of the trek of the Lydda and Ramla refugees is branded in the collective consciousness of the Palestinians. The Palestinian historian Aref al-Aref, who interviewed survivors at the time, estimates that 350 died of thirst and exhaustion in the blazing July sun, when the temperature was one hundred degrees in the shade. The reaction of public opinion in Ramallah and East Jerusalem at the sight of the new arrivals was to turn against the Arab Legion for its failure to help Lydda and Ramla. Arab Legion officers and men were stoned, loudly hissed at and cursed, a not unintended outcome by the person who gave the expulsion order, David Ben-Gurion, and the man who carried it out, Yitzhak Rabin, director of operations for Operation Dani.

Medieval Dubrovnik was rich in Romanesque figural and decorative sculpture but only a small group of fragmentary carvings has been preserved to date due to the fact that the town suffered a devastating earthquake in 1667. The earthquake completely destroyed the monumental Cathedral of the Assumption of the Virgin which had been considered “la piu bella in Illyrico” on the basis of its sculptural abundance. Archaeological excavations undertaken beneath the present-day Baroque Cathedral, consecrated in 1713, unearthed several thousand fragments of high-quality sculptures. Their analysis has confirmed the close connections between Dubrovnik and artistic centres in Apulia, which are well known from archival records. This article re-assesses the results of the excavations and the information from the primary sources in a new light and deepens our knowledge about the date, authorship and reconstruction of the thireenth-century pieces under consideration.The article opens with a discussion about the archival record informing us that Eustasius of Trani came to Dubrovnik in 1199 to work as a protomagister of Dubrovnik Cathedral. The document in question was the reason why art historians attributed to him a number of rather damaged, narrative reliefs which replicate the models and forms that can be seen on the portal of Trani Cathedral. Since the sculptor responsible for that portal was not known and given that the contract preserved in Dubrovnik referred to Eustasius as a son of “Belnardi, protomagistri civitati Trani”, the two artists came to be considered as the builders of the Cathedral of S. Nicola Pellegrino at Trani and of several other churches in the Terra di Bari. The sculptures produced by Eustasius and his father were convincingly deemed to display the artistic influence of southern and central France and the same can be observed in Dubrovnik. The article assigns the figure of Christ the Judge from a portal lunette depicting the Last Judgement, which has no parallels in Apulia, to the same group of sculptures and interprets the subject matter as being inspired by the iconography of numerous pilgrimage churches to which Dubrovnik Cathedral also belonged. The assessment of the formal qualities evident in all the carvings demonstrates that they are less refined than those on the portal of Trani Cathedral. Furthermore, the article separates the works of the father from those of the son and suggests that Bolnardus introduced the aforementioned French-style carving method, which had already taken root in Palestine, and that Eustasius followed it. The starting point in the proposed chronology was the Fall of Jerusalem in 1187 and the associated withdrawal of western master carvers alongside the Crusaders. During their stopover at Trani, around 1190, Boltranius was in charge of the carving of the portal of Trani Cathedral where he was helped by his son who left for Dubrovnik in 1199. Based on the visual characteristics of the fragments of architectural decoration, Eustasius is identified as being responsible for the building of Dubrovnik Cathedral according to Apulian taste which appealed to the local patrons as a consequence of their constant exposure to it through numerous trade links and the overall cultural milieu. In fact, Apulian taste was a symbiosis of Byzantine traditions and Romanesque novelties introduced by the Normans, and its allure was grounded in the fact that both the Terra di Bari and Dubrovnik acknowledged the supreme power of these two political forces albeit not at the same time and in unequal measure.The vernacular current in the Romanesque sculpture of Dubrovnik during the second quarter of the thirteenth century can be noted in a small number of works which influenced the decoration of Gothic and Renaissance public buildings. The source of this diffusion can be identified in the decoration of the Cathedral which epitomized the strong artistic connections with southern Italy from where typological and morphological models were borrowed. The redecoration of the Cathedral’s interior, especially the pulpit – recorded for the first time in 1262 – the archaeological remains of which reveal a polygonal structure resting on twelve columns, drew on those very models. Together with the ciborium above the altar in the main apse, the pulpit was praised by local chroniclers and foreign travel writers during the fifteenth century but also by the earliest church visitation records of the mid-seventeenth century. These two monuments belonged to a group of standard Apulian-Dalmatian ciboria and pulpits which also included those that can today be seen in the cathedrals of Trogir and Split but also in many south Italian churches. Some scholars have argued that the source model for this group can be found in Jerusalem but this article suggests that the ciborium from the church of S. Lorenzo fuori le mura in Rome, dated to 1148, presents a more likely option. Particular attention is given to the naturalistic workmanship of a polygonal capital from Dubrovnik Cathedral, which is assigned to the aforementioned pulpit. It is argued that the style of the capital inspired a series of capitals carved à jour on both sides of the Adriatic and that they display characteristics consistent with the manner of carving of Pietro di Facitolo seen at Bisceglie. The exceptional workmanship of the eagle from the same pulpit is attributed to Pasquo di Pietro who was recorded as a protomagister of the Cathedral from 1255 to 1282 and who well regarded as a master carver. His good reputation earned him the citizenship and an estate; he and his son were mentioned in the local documents as “de Ragusio”. The author of the article hypothesizes that Pasquo may have been Pietro di Facitolo’s son, with which he concludes the outline of the sculptural development of the Apulian Romanesque in Dubrovnik and Dalmatia in general.The final part of the article focuses on the only known work of Simeonus Ragusinus who signed himself as “incola tranensis” on the portal of the church of S. Andrea, that is, S. Salvatore at Barletta. The hybrid artistic expression of this eclectic sculptor with a limited gift, who gathered his knowledge from a variety of sources, reveals that he may have borrowed some iconographic motifs from Eustasius’ portal of Dubrovnik Cathedral or from the other two portals. Overall, the article corroborates several hypotheses that were previously expressed in the scholarship while dismissing and rerouting others. At the same time, it emphasizes the scarcity of solid evidence because of the fragmentary nature of the material. The main goal of the article is to present new research findings and widen our perspective on the issue. The article is a revised version of a brief paper presented at the international conference “Master Buvina and his Time” which was held at Split in 2014 and which will be published in a foreign language. I hope that with the addition of new comments and the scholarly apparatus the article will be a useful point of reference to Croatian researchers of similar topics and that it will contribute towards the creation of syntheses about the medieval art in the Adriatic.

Abstract Hans Kautsky fled Nazi Austria with his parents in August of 1938. After a year-long stay in London, the Kautskys immigrated to the United States in November 1939. The first letter Hans Kautsky sent from the United States to his classmates, who had also fled, provides a window into the correspondence of this small group of young refugees. Moreover, it is typical both in form and content for the exchange. In this nine-page handwritten letter, Hans includes the usual status report, news of financial worries, concerns for the well-being of friends, and measures to ensure the continuation of the correspondence. His comments also point to the vastly different experiences of the youth, who found themselves in France, Palestine, England, Switzerland, and the U.S.

The article raises the role of the minority national language within a global information society. The Hebrew language is a unique case of the revival of a classic language. In the early twentieth century a project was carried out to establish a technical university in what was then called Palestine The founders preferred to teach in Gem an, the dominant international scientific language technology. They daimed that Hebrew was unsuitable for scientific discourse. The opposition succeeded in defeating the founders and thus guaranteed the use of Hebrew in the fields of science and technology. The changing relationships and tension between the local language and the international lingua franca is still subject to debate today and the events of the so-called language war have much to teach us.

Introduction For migrants, the dream of a better life is often expressed by the metaphor of the journey (Papastergiadis 31). Propelled by a variety of forces and choices, migrant life narratives tend to revolve around movement from one place to another, from a homeland associated with cultural and spiritual origins to a hostland which offers new opportunities and possibilities. In many cases, however, their dreams of migrants are deferred; migrants endure hardships and make sacrifices in the hope of a better life for their children. Many studies have explored the social and economic outcomes of the “second” generation – the children of migrants born and raised in the new country. In Australia studies have found, despite some notable exceptions (Betts and Healy; Inglis), that the children of migrants have achieved the economic and social integration their parents dreamed of (Khoo, McDonald, Giorgas, and Birrell). At the same time, however, research has found that the second generation face new challenges, including the negative impact of ethnic and racial discrimination (Dunn, Blair, Bliuc, and Kamp; Jakubowicz, Collins, Reid, and Chafic), the experience of split identities and loyalties (Butcher and Thomas) and a complicated sense of “home” and belonging (Fabiansson; Mason; Collins and Read). In this articles, we explore what the dream of a better life means for second generation migrants, and how that dream might reshape Australia’s multicultural identity. A focus on this generation’s imaginings, visions and hopes for the future is important, we argue, because its distinctive experience, differing from that of other sections of the Australian community in some important ways, needs to be recognised as the nation’s multicultural identity is refashioned in changing circumstances. Unlike their parents, the second generation was born into what is now one of the most diverse countries in the world, with over a quarter (26%) of the population born overseas and a further 23% having at least one parent born overseas (Australian Bureau of Statistics). Unlike their parents, they have come of age in the era of digitally-enabled international communication that has transformed the ways in which people connect. This cohort has a distinctive relationship to the national imaginary. The idea of “multicultural Australia” that was part of the country’s adoption of a multicultural policy framework in the early 1970s was based on a narrative of “old” (white Anglo) Australians “welcoming” (or “tolerating”) “new” (immigrant) Australians (Ang and Stratton; Hage). In this narrative, the second generation, who are Australian born but not “old” Australians and of “migrant background” but not “new” Australians, are largely invisible, setting them apart from both their migrant parents and other, overseas born young Australians of diverse backgrounds, with whom they are often grouped (Collins, Reid, and Fabiansson; Ang, Brand, Noble, and Sternberg; Collins, Reid, and Fabiansson; Harris).In what follows, we aim to contribute to calls for a rethinking of Australian national identity and “culture of interaction” to better reflect the experiences of all citizens (Levey; Collins, Reid, and Fabiansson) by focusing on the experiences of the second generation. Taking our cue from Geoffrey Levey, we argue that “it is not the business of government or politicians to complete the definition of what it means to be Australian” and that we should instead look to a sense of national identity that emerges organically from “mundane daily social interaction” (Levey). To this end, we adopt an “everyday multiculturalism” perspective (Wise and Velayutham), “view[ing] situations of co-existence ... as a concrete, specific context of action, in which difference comes across as a constraint ... and as a resource” (Semi, Colombo, Comozzi, and Frisina 67). We see our focus on the second generation as complementary to existing studies that have examined experiences of young Australians of diverse backgrounds through an everyday multiculturalism prism without distinguishing between newly arrived young people and those born in Australia (Ang, Brand, Noble, and Sternberg; Collins, Reid, and Fabiansson; Harris). We emphasise, however, after Mansouri and Johns, that the second generation’s distinctive cultural and socio-structural challenges and needs – including their distinctive relationship to the idea of “multicultural Australia” – deserve special attention. Like Christina Schachtner, we are cognisant that “faced with the task of giving meaning and direction to their lives, the next generation is increasingly confronted with a need to reconsider the revered values of the present and the past and to reorientate themselves while establishing new meanings” (233; emphasis ours). Like her, we recognise that in the contemporary era, young adults often use digital communicative spaces for the purpose of giving meaning to their lives in the circumstances in which they find themselves (Schachtner 233). Above all, we concur with Hopkins and Dolic when they state that “understanding the processes that inform the creation and maintenance of ... ethnic minority and Australian mainstream identities amongst second-generation young people is critical if these young people are to feel included and recognised, whilst avoiding the alienation and social exclusion that has had such ugly results in other parts of the world (153).In part one, we draw on initial findings from a collaborative empirical study between Swinburne University and the Victorian Multicultural Commission to outline some of the paradoxes and contradictions encountered by a particular – well-educated (currently or recently enrolled at university) and creative (seeking jobs in the media and cultural industries) – segment of the second generation in their attempts to imagine themselves within the frame of “multicultural Australia” (3 focus groups, of 60-90 minutes duration, involving 7-10 participants were conducted over 2018 and 2019). These include feeling more Australian than their parents while not always being seen as “really” Australian by the broader community; embracing diversity but struggling to find a language in which to adequately express it; and acknowledging the progress being made in representing diversity in the mainstream media while not seeing their stories and those of their parents represented there.In part two, we outline future research directions that look to a range of cultural texts and mediated forms of social interactions across popular culture and media in search of new conversations about personal and national identity that could feed into a renewal of a more inclusive understanding of Australian identity.Living and Talking DiversityOur conversations with second generation young Australians confirmed many of the paradoxes and contradictions experienced by young people of diverse backgrounds in the constant traversing of their parents’ and Australian culture captured in previous research (Ang, Brand, Noble, and Sternberg; Harris). Emblematic of these paradoxes are the complicated ways they relate to “Australian identity,” notably expressed in the tension felt between identifying as “Australian” when overseas and with their parent’s heritage when in Australia. An omnipresent reminder of their provisional status as “Aussies” is questions such as “well I know you’re Australian but what are you really?” As one participant put it: “I identify as Australian, I’m proud of my Australian identity. But in Australia I’m Turkish and that’s just because when someone asks I’m not gonna say ‘oh I’m Australian’ ... I used to live in the UK and if someone asked me there, I was Australian. If someone asks me here, I’m Turkish. So that’s how it is. Turkish, born in Australia”The second generation young people in our study responded to these ambiguities in different ways. Some applied hyphenated labels to themselves, while others felt that identification with the nation was largely irrelevant, documented in existing research (Collins, Reid, and Fabiansson; Harris). As one of our participants put it, “I just personally don’t find national identity to be that important or relevant – it’s just another detail about me – I [don’t] think it should affect anything else.” The study also found that our participants had difficulty in finding specific terms to express their identities. For some, trying to describe their identities was “really confusing,” and their thinking changed from day to day. For others, the reason it was hard to express their identities was that the very substance of mundane, daily life “feels very default”. This was the case when many of our participants reported their lived experiences of diversity, whether related to culinary and sport experiences, or simply social interactions with “the people I talk to” and daily train trips where “everyone [of different ethnicities] just rides the train together and doesn’t think twice about it”. As one young person put it, “the default is going around the corner for dinner and having Mongolian beef and pho”. We found that a factor feeding into the ambivalence of articulating Australian identity is the influence – constraining and enabling – of prevailing idioms of identity and difference. Several instances were uncovered in which widely circulating and highly politicised discourses of identity had the effect of shutting down conversation. In particular, the issue of what was “politically correct” language was a touchstone for much of the discussion among the young people in our study. This concern with “appropriate language” created some hesitancy and confusion, as when one person was trying to describe white Australians: “obviously you know Australia’s still a – how do you, you know, I guess I don’t know how to – the appropriate, you know PC language but Australia’s a white country if that makes sense you know”. Other participants were reluctant to talk about cultural groups and their shared characteristics at all, seeing such statements as potentially racist. In contrast to this feeling of restricted discourse, we found many examples of our participants playing and repurposing received vocabularies. As reported in other research, the young people used ideas about origin, race and ethnicity in loose and shifting ways (Back; Butcher). In some cases, in contrast to fears of “racist” connotations of identifying individuals by their cultural background, the language of labels and shorthand descriptors was used as a lingua franca for playful, albeit not unproblematic, negotiations across cultural boundaries. One participant reported being called one of “The Turks” in classes at university. His response expressed the tensions embedded in this usage, finding it stereotyping but ultimately affectionate. As he expressed it, “it’s like, ‘I have a personality, guys.’ But that was okay, it was endearing, they were all with it”. Another finding highlighted more fraught issues that can be raised when existing identity categories are transposed from contexts strongly marked by historically specific circumstances into unrelated contexts. This was the case of a university classmate saying of another Turkish participant that he “was the black guy of the class because … [he] was the darkest”. The circulation of “borrowed” discourses – particularly, as in this case, from the USA – is notable in the digital era, and the broader implications of such usage among people who are not always aware of the connotations of a discourse that is deeply rooted in a particular history and culture, are yet to be fully examined (Lester). The study also shed some light on the struggles the young people in our study encountered in finding a language in which to describe their identities and relationship to “Australianness”. When asked if they thought others would consider them to be “Australian”, responses revealed a spectrum ranging from perceived rejection to an ill-defined and provisional inclusion. One person reported – despite having been born and lived in Australia all their life – that “I don’t think I would ever be called Australian from Australian people – from white Australian people”. Another thought that it was not possible to generalise about being considered Australians by the broader community, as “some do, some don’t”. Again, responses varied. While for some it was a source of unease, for others the distancing from “Australianness” was not experienced negatively, as in the case of the participant who said of being singled out as “different” from the Anglo-Celtic mainstream, “I actually don’t mind that … I’ve got something that a lot of white Australians males don’t have”.A connected finding was the continuing presence of, often subtle but clearly registered, racism. The second generation young people in the study were very conscious of the ways in which experiences of racism they encountered differed from – and represented an improvement on – that of their parents. Drawing an intergenerational contrast between the explicit racism their parents were often subjected to and their own experiences of what they frequently referred to as microaggressions, they mostly saw progress occurring on this front. Another sign of progress they observed was in relation to their own propensity to reject exclusionary thinking, as when they suggested that their parents’ generation are more likely to make “assumptions about culture” based on people’s “outward appearance” which they found problematic because “everyone’s everywhere”. While those cultural faux pas were judged as “well-meaning” and even justified by not “growing up in a culturally diverse setting”, they are at odds with young people’s own experiences and understanding of diversity.The final major finding to emerge from the study was the widespread view that mainstream media fails to represent their lives. Again, our participants acknowledged the progress that has been made over recent decades and applauded moves towards greater representation of non-Anglo-Celtic communities in mainstream free-to-air programming. But the vast majority reported that their experiences are not represented. The sentiment that “I’d love to see someone who looks like me on TV more – on a really basic level – I’d like to see someone who looks like my Dad” was shared by many. What remained missing – and motivated many of the young people in our study to embark on filmmaking careers – was content that reflected their local, place-based lifestyles and the intergenerational dynamics of migrated families that is the fabric of their lives. When asked if Australian media content reflected their experience, one participant put it bluntly: “if I felt like it did, I wouldn’t be actively trying to make documentaries and films about it”.Dreaming DiversityThe findings of the study confirmed earlier research highlighting the ambiguities encountered by second generation Australians who are demographically, emotionally and culturally marked by their parents’ experiences of migration even as they forge their post-migration futures. On the one hand, they reported an allegiance to the Australian nation and recognised that in many ways that they are more part of its fabric than their parents. On the other hand, they reported a number of situations in which they feel marginalised and not “really” Australian, as when they are asked “where are you really from” and when they do not see their stories represented in the mainstream media. In particular, the study highlighted the tensions involved in describing personal and Australian identity, revealing the struggle the second generation often experience in their attempts to express the complexity of their identifications and sense of belonging. As we see it, the lack of recognition of being “really” Australian felt by the young people in our study and their view that mainstream media does not sufficiently represent their experience are connected. Underlying both is a status quo in which the normative Australian is Anglo-Celtic. To help shift this prevailing view of the normative Australian, we endorse earlier calls for a research program centred on analyses of a range of cultural texts and mediated forms of social interactions in search of new conversations about Australian identity. Media, both public and commercial, have the potential to be key agents for community building and identity formation. From radio and television programs through to online discussion forums and social media, media have provided platforms for creating collective imagination and a sense of belonging, including in the context of migration in Australia (Sinclair and Cunningham; Johns; Ang, Brand, Noble, and Sternberg). By supplying symbolic resources through which cultural differences and identities are represented and circulated, they can offer up opportunities for societal reflection, scrutiny and self-interpretation. As a starting point, for example, three current popular media formats that depict or are produced by second-generation Australians lend themselves to such a multi-sited analysis. The first is internet forums in which second generation young people share their quotidian experiences of “bouncing between both cultures in our lives” (Wu and Yuan), often in humorous forms. As the popularity of Subtle Asian Traits and its offshoot Subtle Curry Traits have indicated, these sites tap into the hunger among the Asian diaspora for increased media visibility. The second is the work of comedians, including those who self-identify as of migrant descent. The politics of stereotyping and racial jokes and the difference between them has been a subject of considerable research, including into television comedy productions which are important because of their potential audience reach and ensuing post-viewing conversations (Zambon). The third is a new generation of television programs which are set in situations of diversity without being heralded as “about” diversity. A key case is the television drama series The Heights, first screened on the Australian Broadcasting Corporation in Australia in 2019, which explores the relationships between the residents of a social housing tower and the people who live in the rapidly gentrifying community that surrounds it in the melting pot of urban Australia. These examples represent a diverse range of cultural expressions – created informally and spontaneously (Subtle Asian Traits, Subtle Curry Traits), fashioned by individuals working in the entertainment industry (comedians), and produced professionally and broadcast on national TV networks (The Heights). What unites them is an engagement with the novel forms of belonging that postwar migration has produced (Papastergiadis 20) and an attempt to communicate and represent the lived experience of contemporary Australian diversity, including negotiated dreams and aspirations for the future. We propose a systematic analysis of the new languages of identity and difference that their efforts to represent the evolving patterns and circumstances of diversity in Australia are bringing forth. Conclusions To dream in the context of migration implies, more often than not, the prospect of a better material life in an adopted country. Instead, through the notion of “dreaming diversity”, we foreground the dreams, expectations and imaginations for the future of the Australian second generation which centre on carving out their cultural place in the nation.The empirical research we presented paints a picture of the second generation's paradoxical and contradictory experiences as they navigate the shifting landscape of Australia’s multicultural society. It gives a glimpse of the challenges and hopes they encounter as well as the direction of their attempts to negotiate their place within “Australian identity”. Finally, it highlights the need for a more expansive conversation and language in which that identity can be expressed. A language in which to talk – not just about the many cultures that make up the nation, but also to each other from within them – will be crucial to facilitate the deeper intercultural understanding and engagement many young people aspire to. Our ambition is not to codify a register of approved terms, and even less to formulate a new official discourse for use in multicultural policy documents. It is rather to register, crystalise and expand a discussion around difference and identity that is emerging from everyday interactions of Australians and foster a more committed conversation attuned to contemporary realities and communicative spaces where those interactions take place. In search of a richer vocabulary in which Australian identity might be reimagined, we have identified a research program that will explore emerging ways of talking about difference and identity across a range of cultural and media formats about or by the second generation. While arguing for the significance of the languages and idioms that are emerging in the spaces that young people inhabit, we recognise that, no less than other demographics, second-generation Australians are influenced by circulating narratives and categories in which (national) identity is discussed (Harris 15), including official conceptions and prevailing discourses of identity politics which are often encountered online and through popular culture. Our point is that the dreams, visions and imaginaries of second generation Australians, who will be among the key actors in fashioning Australia’s multicultural futures, are an important element of reimagining Australia’s multiculturalism even if those discourses may be partial, ambivalent or fragmented. We see this research program as building on and extending the tradition of sociological and cultural analyses of popular culture, media and cultural diversity and contributing to a more robust and systematic catalogue of multicultural narratives across different popular formats, genres, and production arrangements characteristic of the diversified media landscape. 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DOI: 10.1177/0163443716663640.AcknowledgmentsThe empirical data reported here was drawn from Zooming In: Multiculturalism through the Lens of the Next Generation, a research collaboration between Swinburne University and the Victorian Multicultural Commission exploring contemporary perspectives on diversity among young Australians through their filmmaking practice, led by Chief Investigators Dr Glenda Ballantyne (Department of Social Sciences) and Dr Vincent Giarusso (Department of Film and Animation). We wish to thank Liam Wright and Alexa Scarlata for their work as Research Assistants on this project, and particularly the participants who shared their stories. Special thanks also to the editors of this special issue and the anonymous reviewers for their insightful feedback on an earlier version of this article. FundingZooming In: Multiculturalism through the Lens of the Next Generation has been generously supported by the Victorian Multicultural Commission, which we gratefully acknowledge.