Journal articles on the topic 'Human beatbox'

Beatbox is a melodic fine art that spotlights on delivering cadenced sounds and rhythms, instruments, as well as impersonations of different sounds, for example, the sound of water beads, large motorbikes, robot sounds, strides, and particularly turntable sounds, through human discourse organs like the mouth, tongue, lips, and other discourse holes. This study means to decide the job of correspondence in the Bengkulu Beatbox Clan Community in Introducing Beatbox Music. The technique utilized is a subjective strategy and utilizations graphic information investigation. This study utilizes Laswell's Communication hypothesis which has 5 focuses, in particular 1. Who?, 2. Expresses out loud Whatever?, 3. In Which Channels?, 4. To Whom, 5.With What Effect?. The aftereffects of the review make sense of that theBengkulu Beabox Clan community in introducing beatbox music is by introducing the community by carrying out activities in the context of Beatbox and outside of Beatbox because introducing community identity with various activities is one strategy to attract members interest. Key Word: Communication, Beatbox, Bengkulu Beatbox Clan Community

Legal discussion about music in Islam is a forbidden matter. Although there are opinions that allow, but this opinion is weak with the arguments of the Qur'an, the traditions and ijmak of the scholars of the Salaf in their forbidden. The beatbox in Islamic nasheed is in the form of rhythmic sounds such as drum beats, musical instruments, or imitations of other sounds, especially turntables, through human speech instruments such as the mouth, tongue and lips that accompany Islamic nashid as the sounds musical instrument replacement. The purpose of this study was to determine the beatbox law in Islamic nasyid. The research method applies qualitative studies with library research methods and descriptive analysis and uses a normative approach. The results showed that the legal consequences of beatbox art were indeed discussed by the scholars, but the strongest opinion was that it was not allowed. The sounds that come from the human body and the sound resembles the sound of a musical instrument, so the law is haram, both playing it and hearing it. As for Islamic nasheed which does not contain forbidden cases, then the law may.

The aim of this study is to compare the areas of effectiveness of half-sine monophasic and biphasic depolarizing defibrillation pulses in the diagram of energy / phase of fibrillation cycle. The study was carried out on the ten Tusscher-Panfilov 2006 model of the human ventricular myocyte under the influence of simulated fibrillation in the BeatBox simulation environment under the Fedora operating system. The simulation was carried out on a computer under the Windows 10 operating system, the Fedora operating system was implemented in the Oracle VM VirtualBox virtualization environment. The results of computer simulations have shown that the areas of effectiveness for monophasic and biphasic defibrillation pulses are significantly different. In a biphasic pulse, the fraction of a fibrillation cycle at which refractoriness is extended is significantly higher than that of a monophasic pulse at low defibrillation pulse energies. It can be assumed that this provides the energy advantage of a biphasic defibrillation pulse over a monophasic one.

The aim of this study is to compare, on the basis of the guaranteed defibrillation hypothesis, the energy efficiency of a trapezoidal defibrillation pulse with fixed rise and fall times with the main types of defibrillation pulses: truncated exponential with the tilt of 50%, rectangular and half-sine. The study was carried out using the ten Tusscher–Panfilov 2006 human ventricular myocyte model subjected to simulated fibrillation in the BeatBox simulation environment. Depolarizing excitation stimuli with a high frequency were used to simulate fibrillation. The results of computer simulation based on the hypothesis of the guaranteed defibrillation showed that defibrillation pulses are energetically efficient (have low values of threshold energy of defibrillation) in a rather narrow range of phase duration values, beyond which a rapid increase in the threshold energy is observed. In terms of energy efficiency, the trapezoidal pulse with the sloping rise and fall is very close to the half-sine one, and at the same time it has a wider range of energetically effective durations. Significantly higher minimum threshold energy of guaranteed defibrillation is a characteristic of rectangular and truncated exponential pulses, while the truncated exponential pulse has a more uniform characteristic in the area of energetically effective durations. From the results obtained, it can be assumed that the maximum duration of the phases of the defibrillation pulse should be limited to the value of no more than 9ms. In this case, the nominal delivered energy at the load impedance of 175Ω should be at least 140J. The possibility of increasing the pulse duration without a significant drop in its energy efficiency will ensure the delivery of more energy in patients with high transthoracic impedance and, accordingly, a greater probability of successful defibrillation. The above will also increase the probability of successful defibrillation in patients with defibrillation electrodes placement errors.

This essay argues that Beatrix Potter's work on mushrooms reveals the ways in which the Western ecological imaginary has responded to Victorian and Edwardian notions of childhood animism. It finds Potter's ‘mycological aesthetics’, or the interplay between attention and imagination that characterises her work, lingering in present-day ecocritical thinking that aims to dismantle the binary constructs underwriting human exceptionalism.

Ensaio baseado na obra de Lawrence H. Keeley, War Before Civilization, de 1996, que tem como objeto o papel da guerra nas sociedades primitivas. Busca-se demonstrar que os mitos do "pacifismo primitivo" e de um "passado beato" não resistem ao escrutínio sério e científico do fenômeno bélico entre povos afastados da 'civilização'.

This work evaluated the recently-published ISO 9241-7 “Ergonomic requirements for office work with visual display terminals (VDTs) - Part 7: Requirements for display with reflections” technical standard in terms of perceived image quality judgments for CRT displays. The effects of five illumination conditions and two screen contrast polarities on image quality were assessed for seven CRT/anti-reflection filter configurations. Participants judged the image quality of the displays after reading text passages on the screen. Image quality judgments then were compared to ISO 9241-7 compliance classifications, as well as to two metrics inherent to the standard: screen image luminance ratio and specular reflection luminance ratio. The findings of this work (along with Kempic, Olacsi, and Beaton, 1998) contribute to a human factors justification of ISO 9241-7 and point up several shortcomings in this international standard. In particular, the findings indicate that specular reflections from CRTs degrade image quality more than do diffuse reflections, and, therefore, the importance of specular reflections is understated in the ISO 9241-7 standard.

This work evaluated the recently-published ISO 9241-7 “Ergonomic requirements for office work with visual display terminals (VDTs) - Part 7: Requirements for display with reflections” technical standard in terms of the readability of text passages presented on CRT displays. The effects of five illumination conditions and two screen contrast polarities on Tinker Reading Test scores (i.e., reading times and errors) were assessed for seven CRT/anti-reflection filter configurations. The readability scores were compared to ISO 9241-7 compliance classifications obtained for the seven CRT displays, as well as to two contrast metrics underlying the ISO 9241-7 compliance classifications: screen image luminance ratio and specular reflection luminance ratio. The findings show that only the specular reflection luminance ratio for large-area, negative polarity correlated with reading times. The present findings, along with those in a companion work (Olacsi, Kempic, and Beaton, 1998), contribute to the understanding of CRT viewability in glare environments and point out some shortcomings of ISO 9241-7. In particular, the findings indicate that specular reflections from CRTs degrade image quality more than do diffuse reflections, and, therefore, the importance of specular reflections is underemphasized in the ISO 9241-7 standard.

The article examines the translation interpretation of Nikolai Gogol's comedy The Government Inspector by Alistair Beaton, embodied in its theatrical adaptation in 2005. Since one of the main factors on the basis of which the interpretation is formed is the cultural and historical context, it seems legitimate to analyze the translation from the point of view of modern world tendencies' influence. This will help to trace the semantic transformations of Gogol's idea. The methodology is based on the comparative, biographical methods, contextual analysis, as well as content analysis of Gogol's comedy and its translation. The peculiarities of the play's epigraph and the list of actors' translation allow us to say that, in this variant of the comedy, a person is totally impersonal and unrelated to others. This is also indicated by the reduction of the author's idiomatic and colloquial elements in the characters' speech, which loses its role as a means of communication, “becoming instead a jungle of obfuscation and deceit”; the language becomes valuable in itself. In addition, the disunity is indicated by the unwillingness / inability of the characters to show understanding towards each other. In addition, due to numerous changes, the author's structure of the play is not preserved, and its new version is chaotic. All this can be explained by the influence of postmodern tendencies, as well as the modern British cultural and historical context. This also explains the fact that a person is isolated from the universe, which is most clearly expressed in the situation with Dobchinsky, who postulates that “life is full of mysteries” while what is happening is not at all enigmatic. Here the irony with which Beaton looks at his heroes becomes obvious. This technique also manifests itself in bringing their vices to the ugly-comic limit. In connection with total “deafness” and misunderstanding, the theme of total loneliness becomes important, as indicated by the poems quoted by Khlestakov. His focus on the importance of universal values and the ontology of life simultaneously with the use of postmodernism techniques can be associated with a new, metamodern “feeling structure” characterized by a sense of oscillation between postmodern and pre-postmodern tendencies. Thus, in translation, the author's idea becomes a reflection of the current era tendencies, demonstrating the separation of people from each other and the rejection of real human values in favour of material benefits because of which the conflict cannot be resolved. Gogol's interpretation does not have such unambiguity. Nevertheless, the importance of value attitudes for Beaton may indicate meta-modernist tendencies, which can still be called a positive phenomenon. The view of the translator at the same time is his own understanding of the meaning of Gogol's comedy, taking into account modern realities. In this regard, it cannot be said that Gogol's author task is deliberately opposed by Beaton to his translation.

SUMARIO: I. EL CONCEPTO DE UNIDAD DE VIDA. A. Una segunda naturaleza. B. Las dos dimensiones de la unidad de vida. II. LA CONTEMPLACIÓN. A. Vocación humana y vocación divina. B. La divinización. III. EL APOSTOLADO. A. No ser esquizofrénicos... B. ... pero el buen olor de Cristo.

Abstract Metastatic dissemination occurs very early in melanoma, often before diagnosis, rendering prevention of metastasis formation an important therapeutic goal. However, the earliest steps of lethal metastasis in patients are incompletely understood. Therefore, in this study we searched for the earliest detectable disseminated cancer cells (DCC) in sentinel lymph node biopsies of 492 stage I-III melanoma patients. We used micromanipulator-assisted isolation and single-cell transcriptome analysis of these extremely rare DCC and identified melanoma -associated chondroitin sulfate proteoglycan (MCSP) expressing melanoma cells as strong candidates for metastasis founder cells in lymph nodes. Based on a median follow-up time of 6 years, their detection was the strongest predictor of systemic metastasis and death upon multivariable analysis. Single-cell transcriptome analysis revealed that melanoma DCC were exposed to CD8 T cell attack during the transition from single cells to metastasis-initiating clusters, activated the extracellular vesicular exosomal pathway, and expressed the immunomodulatory proteins CD155 and CD276, but rarely PD-L1. CD155- and CD276-positive extracellular vesicles from patient-derived DCC models showed an immunosuppressive activity on CD8 T cells. In conclusion, our data suggest that either direct targeting of metastasis-founder cell with MCSP or their immune escape mechanisms may be key to curing early-stage melanoma. Citation Format: Severin Guetter, Courtney Koenig, Huiqin Koerkel-Qu, Aleksandra Markiewicz, Sebastian Scheitler, Marie Katzer, Mark Berneburg, Philipp Renner, Beatrix Cucuruz, Leonhard Guttenberger, Veronika Naimer, Kathrin Weidele, Steffi Treitschke, Christian Werno, Hanna Jaser, Tonia Bargmann, Armin Braun, Florian Weber, Katharina Limm, Reinhard Rachel, Felix Baumann, Lisa Schmidleithner, Kathrin Schambeck, Anja Ulmer, Sebastian Haferkamp, Christoph Klein, Melanie Werner-Klein. Metastasis founder cells activate immunsuppression early in human metastatic colonization [abstract]. In: Proceedings of the American Association for Cancer Research Annual Meeting 2024; Part 1 (Regular Abstracts); 2024 Apr 5-10; San Diego, CA. Philadelphia (PA): AACR; Cancer Res 2024;84(6_Suppl):Abstract nr 5530.

Cathedral Cave is a large rockshelter site in the uplands of southeast central Queensland. In 1975 I excavated a sample of the site as part of a study into the regional prehistory of this remote part of Queensland. At that time, archaeological data of any kind for the state of Queensland was at a premium. At 1,727,000km², Queensland takes up about as much of the world's surface as do France, Italy, Spain, and Germany combined. Yet, by the early 1970's in this northeastern tropical and sub-tropical one-fifth of the Australian continent we had not quite a handful of archaeological studies. In 1963 R.V.S. Wright (1971) had broken ground in a rockshelter at Mushroom Rock, near Laura, on the spine of the Cape York Peninsula, and had also determined the human genesis of the massive shell mounds at Albatross Bay in the gulf waters of the west coast of the Peninsula. Laila Haglund (1976) had worked for several seasons during the years 1965 through 1968 at the Broadbeach cemetery site in the far southeastern corner of Queensland, and the years of 1960, 1962 and 1964 had seen John Mulvaney's classic excavations in the south-central Queensland highlands (Mulvaney and Joyce 1965). It would be a decade, and later, before these pioneering studies would be followed by regional reconnaissance and excavations programs such as those of Geoff Bailey (1977) who in 1972 followed on from Wright's work at Albatross Bay, my own in 1974 through 1977 in the southeastern uplands (Beaton 1977, 1982, 1991 - this volume, Beaton and Walsh 1977), Michael Morwood on the western slopes of the Dividing range (Morwood 1979, 1980, 1981), Jay Hall and associates in the Moreton Bay area (Hall 1982, Hall and Hiscock 1988), and John Campbell (Campbell 1982) in the northeast.

Al cumplirse en este año el siglo de la despedida del Beato Manuel González de la diócesis de Huelva, ¿tienen todavía algo que decirnos su pensamiento y su actividad pastoral? Los tiempos de don Manuel no son los nuestros, ciertamente. El estilo de sus escritos y determinados elementos propios de su acción pastoral responden a las necesidades y espíritu de su época. Pero, a poco que se profundice en su obra, se descubren intuiciones de permanente actualidad e incluso de progreso. El artículo presenta los elementos permanentes de la pastoral de don Manuel González en Huelva, sin olvidar la totalidad de su peripecia humana, sacerdotal y episcopal.

Introducción.- 1. El cumplimiento de la voluntad de Dios y la libertad humana.- a) La voluntad de Dios y la obediencia del hombre. b) Libertad de elección. c) Libertad cristiana y obediencia. d) Libertad y amor. 2. Enseñanzas sobre la Iglesia.- a) Amor a la Iglesia. b) Unidad de la Iglesia. c) Universalidad de la Iglesia. d) Perdurabilidad de la Iglesia. e) La Iglesia y la Virgen María. 3. La santidad y la práctica de las virtudes cristianas. a) La santidad como diseño divino. b) Las virtudes teologales. Fe c) Esperanza. d) Caridad. e) Virtudes humanas. Prudencia. f) Humildad. g) Castidad. h) Pobreza. 4. Vida espiritual y medios ascéticos.- a) Lucha interior. b) Eucaristía. c) Oración. d) Santificación del trabajo. e) Dirección espiritual. 5. Conclusiones.-

Translation, adaptation, and validation of instruments for cross-cultural investigation requires a rigorous methodological procedure that should be carefully planned to deliver instruments with adequate reliability and validity. This process was applied to a questionnaire measuring Organizational Citizenship Behavior toward the Environment (OCBE), Organizational Identification (OI), Environmental Responsibility (ER), and Green Human Resources Management (GHRM) in Portuguese and Slovak organizations. Several methodological procedures for cross-cultural adaptation and validation of questionnaires were analyzed, most of which used independent translators, experts’ analysis, and backward translation to the original language. In the present study, a procedure adapted from Beaton et al. (2000) was applied successfully, and the blind backward translations; expert committee; and the two pretests to assess content validity, functional equivalence, and clarity proved to be worthy. The psychometric properties were measured using a sample from Portugal (N = 122) and Slovakia (N = 269). Although employees were perceiving neither a strong environmental responsibility of their organizations nor strong green human resources management, they identified themselves with the organizations and engaged in OCBEs. Comparing both countries, the factorial structure was remarkably similar, highlighting the eco-helping actions and eco-civic engagement of OCBEs. Comparing both countries, the factorial structure was remarkably similar, highlighting the eco-helping actions and eco-civic engagement of OCBEs. The results indicated that the translated instrument was functionally equivalent to the original one, valid (scale CVI/Ave > 0.83), and reliable (Scale Alpha > 0.733) for evaluating the effect of employee practices and organization management in promoting and supporting environmental sustainability.

A formação de um público leitor crítico que busque a própria emancipação social passa pela valorização do ensino de literatura. O modo como a produção ficcional, em seu diálogo com a história, com a sociologia, com a filosofia, com a antropologia e com a cultura popular influencia na formação de uma consciência crítica é fator determinante para o desenvolvimento de uma civilização. A relação da literatura com a sociedade torna-se, assim, importante no processo educacional. Ainda mais quando dá voz a camadas marginalizadas e desconstrói discursos que consolidam situações de opressão e exploração. Levando em conta tais elementos, propõe-se aqui um trabalho que enfatize a necessidade de valorização da literatura, seja em ambiente escolar, seja nas outras diversas dimensões da vida social e humana. Para isso destaca-se aqui, por um lado, o papel do leitor no processo de recepção e significação do texto literário e, por outro, a urgente necessidade de incentivo à leitura do texto dramático, mais especificamente no teatro brasileiro, muitas vezes situado à margem dos outros gêneros. Para tanto, propõe-se, num primeiro momento, algumas considerações a respeito do ensino da literatura e, depois, uma breve análise da peça A Revolução dos Beatos, de Dias Gomes, demonstrando as estratégias adotadas pelo teatro brasileiro para confirmar o texto dramático como fundamental à história da nossa literatura.

The imagery of Fra Beato Angelico's fresco is grotesquely transformed in the poem dedicated to it by Elena Schwartz, as a reason for discussing the destiny of human. Painting is viewed as a way to relate a person to physical and metaphysical space, turning the circumstances of the current life into the details of another being, and tourism into a kind of pilgrimage to other worlds. The article reconstructs the structural opposition of the poem and proves that they create a working model of Christian culture. It has been established that Schwartz views Renaissance art not as naturalistic and representative, but as exploring the boundaries of various material phenomena and their existence in time. She also interprets medieval art as deductive rationalism, which gives the keys to the experiences of modernity. Reflections on art make it possible to reassemble the impressions of the experience, understanding medieval dogmatic intuitions not just as correct, but as modern. Schwartz, criticizing representative art and reconstructing medieval presumptions of art creation, clarified the boundaries of the artistic expression of Christian dogma.

Artistic images of animal characters in beast stories studied through the prism of national mentality reveal specific animal-human concepts rooted in the readers’ mindsets. This essay focuses on the hare/rabbit as a popular character in animal tales, with an attempt to enhance intercultural relations in the Ukrainian/English world by explaining the peculiarities of the surrounding reality present in beast stories. The paper discloses similar and distinctive characteristics of animal stories on two levels, that is, by contrasting the author’s literary tale with the folk-tale, and by studying the collective image of hare in Ukrainian folk-tales against the background of Peter Rabbit from Beatrix Potter’s stories. The research does not dwell on the zoological peculiarities of the chosen animals or the Aesop fables, but highlights the psychological characteristics of the animals under study in the context of their “national identities”. The work results in disclosing a deep connection between games and animal tales; since both the storyteller’s and the audience’s mental work is based on the game-like perception of the virtual world of the story. The literary images of the hare/rabbit in Ukrainian and British tales differ radically. Ukrainian animals are presented as meek and subdued creatures relying on outside help and rarely (ranking sixth amongst animal protagonists) becoming the leading characters. In contrast, British bunnies are energetic and boisterous, trying their best to overcome any difficulties. The authors explain this fact by references to differences in the historical development of the two cultures under analysis.

Artistic images of animal characters in beast stories studied through the prism of national mentality reveal specific animal-human concepts rooted in the readers’ mindsets. This essay focuses on the hare/rabbit as a popular character in animal tales, with an attempt to enhance intercultural relations in the Ukrainian/English world by explaining the peculiarities of the surrounding reality present in beast stories. The paper discloses similar and distinctive characteristics of animal stories on two levels, that is, by contrasting the author’s literary tale with the folk-tale, and by studying the collective image of hare in Ukrainian folk-tales against the background of Peter Rabbit from Beatrix Potter’s stories. The research does not dwell on the zoological peculiarities of the chosen animals or the Aesop fables, but highlights the psychological characteristics of the animals under study in the context of their “national identities”. The work results in disclosing a deep connection between games and animal tales; since both the storyteller’s and the audience’s mental work is based on the game-like perception of the virtual world of the story. The literary images of the hare/rabbit in Ukrainian and British tales differ radically. Ukrainian animals are presented as meek and subdued creatures relying on outside help and rarely (ranking sixth amongst animal protagonists) becoming the leading characters. In contrast, British bunnies are energetic and boisterous, trying their best to overcome any difficulties. The authors explain this fact by references to differences in the historical development of the two cultures under analysis.

Abstract VIP236 is a small molecule drug conjugate (SMDC) consisting of an alpha v beta 3 (αvβ3) integrin binder linked to an optimized camptothecin (optCPT) payload via a protease sensitive peptide sequence. The overall drug design strategy for VIP236 is targeted delivery to the tumor microenvironment (TME) with extracellular release of the opCPT by neutrophil elastase (NE) present in the TME. VIP236 is anticipated to kill tumor cells while reducing effects to normal tissue. VIP236 was characterized in preclinical pharmacokinetic (PK) and efficacy studies to predict its human PK and efficacious dose. Briefly, VIP236 was administered intravenously (IV) to mice, rats, and dogs to characterize both its in vivo PK (1-2 mg/kg) and its routes of excretion (bile-duct cannulated [BDC] rat at 10 mg/kg). VIP236 was evaluated in vitro for its protein binding characteristics and as a substrate of human drug transporters. In addition, VIP236 was dosed to MX-1 (breast cancer) xenografted mice at doses ranging from 26-40 mg/kg IV on a 3 days on/4 days off regimen to characterize its antitumor activity. VIP236 had low plasma clearance in mice, rats, and dogs (CL=2.7-4.4 mL/min/kg) and low volume of distribution (Vss = 0.11 to 0.25 L/kg). Terminal half-life ranged from 0.93 hour in mice to 3.07 hours in dogs. In BDC rats, VIP236 was primarily excreted in bile with biliary clearance accounting for essentially all the total body CL. There was minimal to no metabolites in rat bile and urine. In vitro VIP236 exhibited low permeability in MDCKII cell monolayers and was identified as a substrate of BSEP and MRP2. VIP236 was highly protein bound to plasma protein with fraction unbound being <5% in all species tested. VIP236 showed robust tumor regression in MX-1 xenografted mice at all doses tested. Allometric methods were used to predict a low human VIP236 CL (0.87-2.68 mL/min/kg) and Vss (0.10 L/kg). Translational pharmacokinetic/pharmacodynamic modeling was used to predict human efficacious doses and exposures by benchmarking VIP236 against irinotecan antitumor activity in MX-1 xenograft mice after 5 cycles of dosing. Based on this analysis, predicted human doses ranged from 1-5 mg/kg IV on a 2 days on/5 days off regimen. VIP236 is currently being evaluated in a first-in-human study in patients with advanced or metastatic solid tumors (NCT05712889). Citation Format: Harvey Wong, Beatrix Stelte-Ludwig, Hans-Georg Lerchen, Amy J Johnson, Melanie M Frigault, Raquel Izumi, Ahmed Hamdy. Preclinical characterization and prediction of human pharmacokinetics and efficacious dose for VIP236, a novel alpha V beta 3 binding small molecule-drug conjugate (SMDC) [abstract]. In: Proceedings of the AACR-NCI-EORTC Virtual International Conference on Molecular Targets and Cancer Therapeutics; 2023 Oct 11-15; Boston, MA. Philadelphia (PA): AACR; Mol Cancer Ther 2023;22(12 Suppl):Abstract nr A139.

Abstract Regulatory T cells (Tregs) play an indispensable role in mediating peripheral tolerance to self-antigens. They can also promote tumor growth by suppressing the function of effector CD8+ and CD4+ T cells in the tumor microenvironment (TME). Furthermore, Tregs are identified as one of the key resistance mechanisms hampering the efficacy of immune checkpoint inhibitors (ICIs) across many tumor types. Therefore, there is a high need for safe and effective agents that would specifically deplete tumor-infiltrating Tregs while sparing both peripheral Tregs and effector T cells. Chemokine receptor 8 (CCR8) is predominantly expressed on activated tumor-infiltrating Tregs and marks the most suppressive and proliferative Treg population. CCR8+ Tregs are associated with high tumor grade and poor overall survival across many tumor types such as lung, breast, or head-neck cancer. Thus, unlike other approaches directed against Tregs, targeting CCR8 offers the opportunity to specifically deplete intra-tumoral Tregs without impacting peripheral Tregs or other immune cells. BAY 3375968 is a non-internalizing fully human glycoengineered (afucosylated) monoclonal IgG1 antibody, which in vitro selectively depleted human CCR8+ Tregs via antibody dependent cellular cytotoxicity (ADCC) and antibody dependent cellular phagocytosis (ADCP). In vivo efficacy studies using mouse surrogate antibodies showed strong monotherapeutic efficacy across a variety of murine tumor models with clear correlation of intratumoral CCR8+ Treg depletion and CD8+ T cell increase. The monotherapeutic efficacy of CCR8 depleting antibodies was further enhanced by combinations with ICIs. BAY 3375968 also showed a good safety profile in cynomolgus monkeys. In conclusion, CCR8 is a novel Treg depleting immunotherapy target, and due to its highly tumor-restricted expression profile, BAY 3375968 may provide superior clinical safety and efficacy profile comparing to other less specific Treg targeting approaches. Based on the promising pre-clinical data, preparations for a phase I clinical trial investigating the safety, tolerability, pharmacokinetics, pharmacodynamics, and preliminary anti-tumor activity of BAY 3375968 are underway. Citation Format: Helge Roider, Su-Yi Tseng, Sabine Hoff, Sandra Berndt, Katharina Filarski, Uwe Gritzan, Beatrix Stelte-Ludwig, Wiebke M. Nadler, Joanna Grudzinska-Goebel, Philipp Ellinger, Mark Trautwein, Matyas Gorjanacz. BAY 3375968: An afucosylated anti-CCR8 antibody depleting activated intratumoral regulatory T cells as a cancer immunotherapy [abstract]. In: Proceedings of the American Association for Cancer Research Annual Meeting 2022; 2022 Apr 8-13. Philadelphia (PA): AACR; Cancer Res 2022;82(12_Suppl):Abstract nr 2866.

Endocrinology was recognized as a new branch of biological science mainly as a result of events which took place between about 1890 and 1905, but ideas and discoveries dating from antiquity contributed to it also. Experiments supporting the concept of internal secretions by the testicles were described by Aristotle (4th c. B.C.) and by Hunter (18th c.) and Berthold (19th c.). In 1855 Bernard described glucose as an internal secretion of the liver and Addison reported the effects of adrenal disease in man. Adrenalectomy was fatal in animals. Goitre was known in antiquity and cretinism had been described by Paracelsus. Myxoedema was reported by Gull in 1873, and Kocher described cachexia strumipriva in 1883. In 1888 cretinism, myxoedema and cachexia strumipriva were attributed to thyroid insufficiency. In the 1890s Gley found that tetany after thyroidectomy was due to removal of the parathyroids. In 1884 Rehn proposed that toxic goitre was due to thyroid excess. In 1889 Brown-Sequard claimed that injections of testicular extract rejuvenated the elderly, and in 1893 he introduced organotherapy. In 1891 Murray treated myxoedema successfully with thyroid extract. In 1893 Oliver and Schäfer found that an adrenal extract raised the blood pressure, and soon adrenaline was extracted from the adrenal medulla. Adrenocortical deficiency was proposed as the cause of Addison’s disease, and in 1896 Osler prepared an extract which relieved one patient. Diabetes mellitus, described in the first century, was usually fatal. Thirst and polyuria followed experimental pancreatectomy, and pancreatic lesions were found in some human diabetics. In the 19th century workers in France and Germany found that diabetes resulted from absence of an internal secretion by the islets of Langerhans and, in 1893, Laguesse described the function of the islets as “endocrine”. In 1895 Beatson treated advanced breast cancer successfully by oophorectomy. In 1895 Schäfer commended study of the internal secretions to physiologists. In 1902 Bayliss and Starling discovered secretin, a chemical messenger secreted by the intestinal mucosa. In 1905 Starling proposed the name “hormone” for this class of internal secretions. By then endocrinology had been launched as a new branch of science.

Abstract Extracellular vesicles (EVs) provide a minimally invasive source of tumor-specific markers for liquid biopsy that can be utilized for cancer detection, diagnosis, or monitoring progression. Our laboratory has previously demonstrated the endogenous expression of all transporter systems in the common prostate cancer cell lines (LNCaP, 22Rv1, PC3, DU-145) using a medium throughput TaqMan-based qRT-PCR assay. We identified the two most differentially expressed transporter genes in castration-resistant prostate cancer cells (CRPC) as the cancer-type solute carrier organic anion transporter family 1B3 (ct-SLCO1B3) and the ATP Binding Cassette Subfamily Member C (ABBC3). Both transporters have been investigated as EV-derived tumor markers; however, their detection in prostate cancer-derived EVs remains to be determined. This study aims to investigate whether ct-SLCO1B31B3 and ABCC3 mRNA exists in prostate cancer-derived EVs and can be further detected using plasma specimens. We isolated EVs from prostate cancer (LNCaP, 22Rv1, PC3, DU-145) cell line supernatant and extracted exosomal RNA for qPCR analyses. Both ct-SLCO1B3 and ABBC3 transcripts were only detected in CRPC-derived EV cells vs androgen-responsive prostate cancer cells. To explore the possibility that both transcripts in CRPC-derived EVs can be detected in plasma, we isolated plasma EVs derived from human prostate cancer xenograft mice, and then performed digital droplet PCR analysis. We demonstrated that ct-SLCO1B3 and ABBC3 are detectable in the DU-145 xenograft mouse model, both in tissues and in plasma-derived EVs. Our results provide evidence that ct-SLCO1B3 and ABCC3 exist in EVs and can be detected (at least) in mouse plasma, potentially supporting their roles as novel, plasma-based biomarkers for monitoring prostate cancer progression. Citation Format: Erica L. Beatson, Kristi Y. Lee, Martina A. Knechel, Elijah R. Sommer, Roger Depaz, Emily N. Risdon, Andres F. Leon, Jonathan D. Strope, Douglas K. Price, Cindy H. Chau, William D. Figg. Exosomal cancer-type SLCO1B3 and ABCC3 as potential biomarkers of castration resistant prostate cancer [abstract]. In: Proceedings of the AACR Special Conference: Advances in Prostate Cancer Research; 2023 Mar 15-18; Denver, Colorado. Philadelphia (PA): AACR; Cancer Res 2023;83(11 Suppl):Abstract nr B044.

Abstract Introduction: The chemokine receptor CXCR5 is highly expressed in tumor cells from different lymphoma types and represents a viable drug target for the development of antibody-drug conjugates (ADC) to treat patients with lymphoma. Methods: Immunohistochemistry of human tissues of different lymphoma types were stained using antibodies against human CXCR5, CD20, CD70 and CD79b. Slides were examined by a pathologist and scored for expression. CXCR5 expression on tumor cell lines was analyzed by flow cytometry. Cell surface receptor density was analyzed by Quantibrite ™ PE-beads. Evaluation of antibody internalization was performed using the Operetta High Content Imaging System. NOD/SCID mice were transplanted subcutaneously with lymphoma patient-derived (PDX) tumor specimens and treated with 2mg/kg or 10mg/kg VIP924 CXCR5-ADC or isotype control. Results: CXCR5 reveals very low to no expression in most tissues except for lymph nodes. Expression of CXCR5 and other B-cell targets like CD19, CD20, CD70 and CD79b was analyzed on patient-derived tumor samples. High expression of CXCR5 was found on naïve and previously treated diffuse large B-cell lymphoma (DLBCL), follicular lymphoma (FL), mantle cell lymphoma (MCL), and chronic lymphocytic leukemia (CLL) samples. Based on these results, we developed a CXCR5 targeted ADC with a novel, highly potent kinesin spindle protein inhibitor (KSPi) payload linked via a legumain-cleavable linker (VIP924). To compare the performance of KSPi ADCs, the same effector chemistry was attached to antibodies against other B-cell targets and tested in cytotoxicity assays in various cell lines. CXCR5-targeted ADC demonstrates significantly higher activity compared to the other ADCs tested except for the CD79b ADC with equal potency. VIP924 was then tested in vivo in different PDX tumor mouse models with different levels of CXCR5 expression. In the LY2264 and HBL-1 DLBCL models, we obtained a tumor growth inhibition of 68% and 100% respectively compared to isotype control. The median survival time for the isotype control group was 29 days and median survival time for the mice treated with 10mg/kg VIP924 could not be determined as all mice survived until the end of the study (Day 37). No effect on body weight or any adverse effects in the VIP924 treated mice were observed. Conclusions: CXCR5 is a highly attractive target in hematological malignancies such as DLBCL, MCL, and FL due to high protein expression and almost no expression in healthy tissues. CXCR5-targeting ADC with KSPi payload showed high potency and superiority to other B-cell-targeted ADCs in vitro on a broad range of lymphoma cell lines. VIP924 with a novel legumain-cleavable linker showed activity in in vivo PDX models from lymphoma patients. Due to the high CXCR5 expression found in relapsed DLBCL patients, VIP924 may bring promising new treatment options for previously treated patients with lymphoma. Citation Format: Tibor Schomber, Beatrix Stelte-Ludwig, Amy J. Johnson, Oliver von Ahsen, Christoph Schatz, Raquel Izumi, Ahmed Hamdy, Hans-Georg Lerchen. CXCR5 is a very promising drug target for the development of antibody-drug conjugates to treat patients with lymphoma [abstract]. In: Proceedings of the American Association for Cancer Research Annual Meeting 2023; Part 1 (Regular and Invited Abstracts); 2023 Apr 14-19; Orlando, FL. Philadelphia (PA): AACR; Cancer Res 2023;83(7_Suppl):Abstract nr 6294.

Abstract Introduction: KRASG12D is the most common KRAS mutation in pancreatic ductal adenocarcinoma (PDAC). It is well known that activating point mutations in one allele are sufficient for tumor growth in patients harboring KRASG12D mutations and it is challenging to target this mutation with effective KRASG12D inhibitors. Driver gene amplification is a known mechanism of acquired resistance to therapy in pancreatic cancers. Although other genetic features, such as KRAS gene copy number variations (CNV) and mutant allele fractions (MAF), have been observed, their influence on response to treatment remains unclear. Current discovery revealed that MRTX1133 is a potent, non-covalent and high-affinity small molecule that selectively targets KRASG12D. Therefore, with the efforts underway to develop effective therapy response using the KRASG12D-targeted drug, MRTX1133, it is paramount to improve our understanding regarding the role of KRAS CNV/MAF in PDAC. Methods: Using quantitative digital PCR (DPCR), we first measured the absolute copy number of KRAS wild type (WT), and mutant type (MT) and we then calculated MAF by formula: MAF = MT allele numbers/(MT+WT allele numbers) in DNA from various KRASG12D mutant PDAC cell lines and PDX-derived primary cell lines. 3D viability and cell signaling assays determined sensitivity to MRTX1133 in established and PDX-derived primary cell lines in vitro. We also assessed the representative KRAS gene CNV of those cell lines by TaqMan real time PCR. DPCR was also utilized to determine the MAF in PDX-derived tissues. Results: We found a trend in response to MRTX1133 in KRASG12D cell lines based on their MAF and representative KRAS gene CNV. Resistant, and sensitive KRASG12D cell lines have average MAF of 75.23%, and 52.81% respectively. Most of the resistant cells have higher KRAS gene copy number gain (6-8) compared to sensitive cells (3-4). Interestingly, our data suggests that higher MAF (>53%) and gene copy numbers (>4) may predict a resistant phenotype in KRASG12D cells to MRTX1133. Mechanistically, MRTX1133 inhibits ERK1/2 signaling and increases apoptosis in sensitive cells. Representative sensitive and resistant cell lines are further evaluated for any changes in baseline and MRTX1133-induced MAF and copy number alterations by DPCR and TaqMan real time PCR. However, the results indicated that there are no significant differences in MAF and KRAS CNV in the sensitive and resistant cells on pre and post treatment of MRTX1133. We further extended our study by evaluating the MAF targeting KRASG12D in various PDX-derived tissues by quantitative DPCR. With exception to a few cases, most of the analyzed PDX tissues contained balanced MAF (~50%), which may show sensitivity to MRTX1133 according to our findings. Conclusions: Our current observations indicate 1) KRAS CN gain and MAF increase may appear to play major roles in the progression of a resistant phenotype 2) KRAS CNV and MAF status may contribute to criteria to select PDAC patients who are most likely to benefit from therapy with MRTX1133. Citation Format: Bhaswati Sarcar, Alexandra Tassielli, Liang Wang, Ruifan Dai, Meagan D. Read, Francisca Beato, Dae W. Kim, Pamela J. Hodul, Jennifer B. Permuth, Eric B. Haura, Mokenge P. Malafa, Jason B. Fleming. KRAS copy number variation and mutant allele fractions predict in vitro response of PDX-derived human pancreatic cancer cell lines to KRASG12D inhibitor MRTX1133 [abstract]. In: Proceedings of the AACR Special Conference: Targeting RAS; 2023 Mar 5-8; Philadelphia, PA. Philadelphia (PA): AACR; Mol Cancer Res 2023;21(5_Suppl):Abstract nr B032.

Abstract Introduction: We previously presented the design and preliminary characterization of VIP236—an SMDC consisting of an αvβ3 integrin binder linked to an optimized camptothecin topoisomerase I (TOP1) inhibitor payload released by neutrophil elastase in the tumor microenvironment (Lerchen et al, Cancers 2022). Herein we evaluate VIP236 in patient-derived and metastatic models of cancer. Methods: Subcutaneous patient-derived xenograft mouse models in non-small cell lung cancer (NSCLC), renal cell carcinoma (RCC), colorectal cancer (CRC), and triple negative breast cancer (TNBC) were treated with VIP236. Metastasis formation was measured by human DNA PCR in an orthotopic TNBC mouse model. Gastric cancer models included patient-derived and cell line xenograft mouse models. Tumor/control (T/C) ratios were calculated, and body weight was measured. Pharmacodynamic (PD) effect of VIP236 in a gastric cancer SNU16 xenograft mouse model was investigated. Tumor samples from vehicle- and VIP236-treated groups collected up to 144 hours postdose were analyzed for % positive γH2AX cells by a fit-for-purpose qualified immunohistochemistry assay. Results: VIP236 is efficacious in vivo patient-derived models of NSCLC, RCC, CRC and TNBC with T/C ratios of 0.0, 8.9,14.5 and 5.6 compared with vehicle control (p<0.0001, CRC p<0.01). VIP236 showed statistically improved in vivo efficacy in gastric cancer models versus trastuzumab deruxtecan (a commercial antibody-drug conjugate [ADC] with a camptothecin payload) in NCIH87 (HER2high, p<0.05), SNU16 (HER2neg, p<0.001), and GXA3040 (patient-derived, HER2low, p<0.001) xenografts. VIP236 induced statistically significant tumor growth inhibition in a patient-derived CRC liver metastasis model (p<0.01) and statistically significant reduction in lung (p<0.001) and brain (p<0.01) metastasis from an orthotopic TNBC model was observed. Across all in vivo models no clinically significant weight loss or treatment-related mortality were observed. Furthermore, a time-dependent increase of γH2AX % positive cells in SNU16 in vivo VIP236-treated tumors confirms that VIP236 drives robust TOP1 inhibition and subsequent DNA damage. Conclusions: In summary, VIP236 monotherapy efficacy in NSCLC, gastric, TNBC, RCC, CRC, and metastatic TNBC in vivo cancer models provides a rationale for clinical investigation in advanced metastatic solid tumors. In gastric cancer, VIP236 showed improved efficacy compared with the approved ADC, trastuzumab deruxtecan, regardless of HER2 expression. These results warrant further evaluation in clinical trials. Citation Format: Beatrix Stelte-Ludwig, Melanie M. Frigault, Hans-Georg Lerchen, Tibor Schomber, Raquel Izumi, Amy J. Johnson, Ahmed Hamdy. VIP236: A small molecule drug conjugate with an optimized camptothecin payload has significant activity in patient-derived and metastatic cancer models [abstract]. In: Proceedings of the American Association for Cancer Research Annual Meeting 2023; Part 1 (Regular and Invited Abstracts); 2023 Apr 14-19; Orlando, FL. Philadelphia (PA): AACR; Cancer Res 2023;83(7_Suppl):Abstract nr 484.

Abstract Introduction: In patients with acute myeloid leukemia (AML), CD123 has been shown to have high expression on blast cells and leukemic stem cells (LSC) compared with normal hematopoietic stem cells (HSCs) and other more mature CD34+ subsets (Zhou J, World J Stem Cells 2014). LSCs are inherently resistant to standard of care chemotherapeutics and LSC persistence after chemotherapy is associated with disease relapse. VIP943 is an ADC consisting of an anti-CD123 antibody, a unique linker cleaved intracellularly by legumain which is required for release, and activation of a novel kinesin spindle protein inhibitor (KSPi) payload that accumulates inside the cell. Herein, we evaluated the potential of VIP943 to target LSC and progenitor cells. Methods: Cytotoxicity assay: Bone marrow aspirates (BMA) and peripheral blood from previously untreated patients with primary or transformed from myelodysplastic syndrome AML were used in this experiment. Cells were treated with VIP943 (66 nM or 330 nM). After the end of the 48 h or 72 h incubation, the CD123+ cells and the CD34+CD38- LSC were detected by flow cytometry. Characterization of progenitor cell population: Fresh BM samples from healthy volunteers (HVBM) were stained with specific monoclonal antibodies to identify progenitor cell populations. Depletion assay: The effect of VIP943 on HVBM was evaluated by measuring the depletion of CD34+ progenitor cell populations in comparison to the anti-CD33-ADC, gemtuzumab ozogamicin (gem-oz). At the end of the incubation time, red blood cells were lysed; the remaining cells were stained with a cocktail of antibodies to discriminate between progenitor cells and analyzed by flow cytometry. Results: Treatment of patient-derived CD123+ leukemic blasts with VIP943 resulted in a 50% reduction after 48 h and up to 80% at 72 h. A reduction of >70% of CD123+CD34+CD38- LSCs derived from BM aspirates of untreated patients with AML was achieved after incubation with VIP943 up to 72h. In addition, HVBM samples derived from five healthy volunteers were treated with VIP943 or gem-oz in a depletion assay, where gem-oz was toxic to CD34+ cells with an EC50 of 0.16 µM in contrast to VIP943 with an EC50 value of 8.83 µM. Conclusions: In this in vitro analysis of primary samples from patients with AML, activity of VIP943 is observed in AML patient-derived CD123+ blasts as well as chemoresistant LSCs. At anticipated pharmacologic levels, VIP943 shows no adverse effects on HSCs unlike gem-oz suggesting an improved therapeutic index. In the ongoing first-in-human dose-escalation study in subjects with advanced CD123+ hematologic malignancies, VIP943 demonstrates a promising safety profile (NCT06034275). Citation Format: Beatrix Stelte-Ludwig, Tibor Schomber, Melanie M. Frigault, Joseph Birkett, Amy J. Johnson, Anne-Sophie Rebstock, Sebastian Ludwig, Raquel Izumi, Ahmed Hamdy. Activity of VIP943 on AML patient-derived leukemic blasts and healthy donor-derived bone marrow hematopoietic stem cells [abstract]. In: Proceedings of the American Association for Cancer Research Annual Meeting 2024; Part 1 (Regular Abstracts); 2024 Apr 5-10; San Diego, CA. Philadelphia (PA): AACR; Cancer Res 2024;84(6_Suppl):Abstract nr 629.

Background:HLA-B51 is a definite risk factor for Behçet’s disease (BD). A coding variant of ERAP1, Hap10 – with low peptide-trimming activity – vastly potentiates this risk, but is mechanistically unclear1,2).Objectives:To test the hypothesis that low or absent ERAP1 activity alters CD8 T cell immunogenicity through changes in the HLA-B51 peptidome and shapes the CD8 T cell immune response in affected subjects.Methods:We generated HLA-B51+ERAP1 KO LCL clones using CRISPR-Cas9, performed mass spectrometry of the immunoprecipitated MHC-class I peptidome with subsequent computational deconvolution for HLA-B51-binding peptides. We then assessed single cell (ICS), bulk (ELISA) and proliferative (CFSE) CD8 effector (IFNg, granzyme B, perforin) T cell responses through stimulation of allogeneic donor cells with WT vs KO LCL and determined ERAP1 haplotypes in 49 untreated Turkish BD subjects with ocular and/ or major vascular involvement as well as healthy donors (HD) whose PBMC were profiled using 6 multicolour flow cytometry panels.Results:WT and KO peptidomes differed significantly (p<0.0005 Fisher’s exact test) with a distinctive shift of peptide length frequencies exceeding 9-mer (binding optimum) in the KO vs WT. This held true for computationally deconvoluted HLA-B51 binders. IFNg secretion from CD8 T cells stimulated with KO LCL was significantly different from WT (ICS, p=0.0006; ELISA, p=0.0059) as were CD8 T cell proliferation and ICS of perforin/granzyme B+CD8 T cells. Analysis of 133 T, B, NK and monocyte cell populations revealed predominance of CD8 T and NKT cell subset in HLA-B51+/Hap10+ BD vs HLA-B51+/Hap10- BD and HD, accounting for 80% of all populations reaching significance (p<0.05, Mann-Whitney). Naive and effector memory CD8 T cell subsets were inversely correlated. Cohen’s effect sizes were large (>0.8) or very large (>1.2).Conclusion:We show that absence of functional ERAP1 alters human CD8 T cell immunogenicity. This is mediated by an HLA-class I peptidome with propensity for longer peptides above 9mer and suggests loss or de-novo presentation of peptide-HLA-B51 complexes to cognate CD8 TCR. The reciprocal changes in antigen- experienced vs naive CD8 T cell subsets in affected subjects point to biologic significance of HLA-B51/Hap10 in BD. Collectively, our findings suggest that an altered HLA-B51 peptidome modulates immunogenicity of CD8 effector T cells in ERAP1-Hap10 carriers with BD and identify targets for future drug development.References:[1]Kirino, Y., G. Bertsias, Y. Ishigatsubo, N. Mizuki, I. Tugal-Tutkun, E. Seyahi, Y. Ozyazgan, F. S. Sacli, B. Erer, H. Inoko, Z. Emrence, A. Cakar, N. Abaci, D. Ustek, C. Satorius, A. Ueda, M. Takeno, Y. Kim, G. M. Wood, M. J. Ombrello, A. Meguro, A. Gul, E. F. Remmers, and D. L. Kastner. 2013. ‘Genome-wide association analysis identifies new susceptibility loci for Behcet’s disease and epistasis between HLA-B*51 and ERAP1’,Nat Genet, 45: 202-7.[2]Takeuchi, M., M. J. Ombrello, Y. Kirino, B. Erer, I. Tugal-Tutkun, E. Seyahi, Y. Ozyazgan, N. R. Watts, A. Gul, D. L. Kastner, and E. F. Remmers. 2016. ‘A single endoplasmic reticulum aminopeptidase-1 protein allotype is a strong risk factor for Behcet’s disease in HLA-B*51 carriers’,Ann Rheum Dis, 75: 2208-11.Disclosure of Interests:Arshed F. Al-Obeidi: None declared, Ann Cavers: None declared, Yesim Ozguler: None declared, Olivier Manches: None declared, Hua Zhong: None declared, Berna Yurttas: None declared, Beatrix Ueberheide: None declared, Gulen Hatemi Grant/research support from: BMS, Celgene Corporation, Silk Road Therapeutics – grant/research support, Consultant of: Bayer, Eli Lilly – consultant, Speakers bureau: AbbVie, Mustafa Nevzat, Novartis, UCB – speaker, Matthias Kugler: None declared, Johannes Nowatzky: None declared

As I write this article in mid-September 2021, the severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus (SARS-CoV-2) pandemic has claimed the lives of nearly 4.7 million people and over 228 million others have been infected worldwide. This article explores the poetic imaginarium of the coronavirus, focusing on how selected Malawian poets imagine the devastation wrought on human beings by the pandemic in their poetry. Specifically, it considers how selected poems in Walking the Battlefield: An Anthology of Malawian Poetry on the COVID-19 Pandemic—a book edited by Martin Juwa, William Mpina and Beaton Galafa—explore the chaos, shock and bewilderment brought on by COVID-19. I also argue that a reading of the poems allows for an opening up of a discursive debate on the hope and indomitable resilience of the human spirit when confronted by life-threatening contagions. Opsomming Terwyl ek hierdie referaat in mid-September 2021 skryf, het die ernstige akute respiratoriese sindroom koronavirus (SARS-CoV-2)-pandemie reeds die lewens van bykans 4.7 miljoen mense geëis en meer as 228 miljoen is wêreldwyd geïnfekteer. Hierdie referaat verken die poëtiese verbeeldingswêreld van die koronavirus, en fokus op gekose Malawiese digters wat in hul poësie die vernietiging wat die pandemie in mense se lewens veroorsaak, in hul verbeelding ervaar. Dit besin spesifiek oor hoe gekose gedigte in Walking the Battlefield: An Anthology of Malawian Poetry on the COVID-19 Pandemic—’n boek wat deur Martin Juwa, William Mpina en Beaton Galafa geredigeer is—die chaos, skok en verbystering verken wat deur COVID-19 teweeggebring is. Ek voer ook aan dat ’n voorlesing van die gedigte ’n beredeneerde debat moontlik maak oor die hoop en onblusbare veerkragtigheid van die menslike gees wanneer dit deur lewensbedreigende aansteeklike siektes gekonfronteer word.

ABSTRACTIan Chambers studied biochemistry at the University of Strathclyde in Glasgow, UK. He then did his PhD in the laboratory of Paul Harrison at the Beatson Institute for Cancer Research, also in Glasgow. Ian studied the control of gene expression during the differentiation of erythroid precursor cells, discovering that the amino acid selenocysteine is encoded by UGA, which until then was thought to work only as a termination codon. Ian did his post-doctoral work on the regulation of the human immunodeficiency virus (HIV) with Paul Berg at Stanford University in California, USA. In 1991, he returned to Scotland to work on stem cell regulation with Austin Smith at the Centre for Genome Research (later the Institute for Stem Cell Research) at the University of Edinburgh, UK. During that time, Ian identified the transcription factor Nanog, which directs efficient embryonic stem cell self-renewal. Ian started his research group in 2006 at the University of Edinburgh, where he is also a Professor of Pluripotent Stem Cell Biology. His laboratory tries to understand the regulatory networks and transcription factors that control the identity of pluripotent embryonic stem cells, and how these modulate cell fate decisions during the differentiation process. Ian is now the Head of the Institute for Stem Cell Research at University of Edinburgh, an EMBO member and a Fellow of the Royal Society of Edinburgh. Ian is the recipient of the 2020 Hooke Medal from the British Society for Cell Biology (BSCB).

El retrato de la persona siempre fascinó al hombre, y el arte hizo de esa intención un permanente compromiso, pese a que la materialización del mismo resultase sumamente difícil. Máxime cuando esa obligación conducía al artista ante su conflictiva ambivalencia, esa coexistencia de pasiones e intereses contrapuestos (varón - hembra), que es crítico conocimiento. De esa relación hombre/mujer derivaban dos vías de presentación estética: vestidos o desnudos, es decir, ataviados con lo innecesario o expuestos en su esencialidad humana. Si en el caso de la mujer los problemas fueron menores (de forma relativa), porque su cuerpo solía entenderse como fuente demostrativa de la perfección, en el caso del hombre-hombre los problemas fueron mucho mayores (con ser en verdad idénticos). Lo que el arte admitió en un principio como conveniente (el desnudo femenino), lo fue eliminando progresivamente en su opositor antropológico, quedando el hombre desnudo como incómodo referente para el realismo beato del pudor, academicismo social que incomodaba, claro está, a los más desnudos de inteligencia.

Background: HER2-positive breast cancer is a breast cancer that tests positive with human epidermal growth factor receptor 2 (HER2). Human Epidermal Growth Factor Receptor-2 (HER2) promotes the proliferation of breast cancers cells. This research aimed to find the bioactive compounds from Allium sativum for inhibiting HER2 enzyme by using molecular docking method. Materials and method: The protein tyrosin kinase HER2 structure was obtained from Protein Data Bank. Compounds were collected from previous publications of Allium sativum and these structures were retrieved from PubChem database. Molecular docking was done by Autodock vina software. Lipinski’s rule of 5 is used to compare compounds with drug-like and non-drug-like properties. Pharmacokinetic parameters of potential compounds were evaluated using the pkCSM tool. Results: Based on previous publication of Allium sativum, we have collected 55 compounds. The results showed that 2 compounds have HER2 inhibitory activity stronger than the reference compounds including biochanin A và cyanidin 3-malonylglucoside. The Lipinski’s rule of Five showed that these two compounds had propietary drug-likenesss. Moreover, predict ADMET of these compounds was also analyzed. Conclusion: Therefore, biochanin A and cyanidin 3-malonylglucoside may be potential natural product compounds for HER2-positive breast cancer treatment. Keywords: Allium sativum, tyrosin kinase HER2, breast cancer HER2 positive, in silico, molecular docking. References [1] S. Libson, M. Lippman. A review of clinical aspects of breast cancer. International review of psychiatry (Abingdon, England) 26(1) (2014) 4.[2] D.J. Slamon, G.M. Clark, S.G. Wong, W.J. Levin, A. Ullrich, W.L. McGuire. Human breast cancer: correlation of relapse and survival with amplification of the HER-2/neu oncogene. Science 235(4785) (1987) 177.[3] U. Krishnamurti, J.F. Silverman. 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There’s always this never-ending discussion about the curator who imposes meaning or imposes the concept of art, of what art is. I think this is the wrong opposition. Every artwork produces its concept, or a concept of what art is. And the role of the curator is not to produce a concept of art but to invent, to fabricate, elaborate reading grids or coexistence grids between them.(Nicolas Bourriaud quoted in Bourriaud, Lunghi, O’Neill, and Ruf 91–92)In 2010 at a conference in Rotterdam, Nicolas Bourriaud, Enrico Lunghi, Paul O’Neill, and Beatrix Ruf discussed the question, “Is the curator per definition a political animal?” This paper draws on their discussion when posing the reverse scenario—is the political animal per definition a curator in the context of the development of large-scale public policy? In exploring this question, I suggest that recent conceptual discussions centring on “the curatorial turn” in the arena of the creative arts provide a useful framework for understanding and managing opportunities and pitfalls in policymaking that is influenced by news media. Such a conceptual understanding is important. My empirical research has identified a transport policy arena that is changing due to news media scrutiny in Sydney, Australia. My findings are that the discourses arising and circulating in the public and the news media wield considerable influence. I posit in this paper the view that recent academic discussion of curatorial practices could identify more effective and successful approaches to policy development and implementation. I also question whether some of the key problems highlighted by commentary on the curatorial turn, such as the silencing of the voice of the artist, find parallels in policy as the influence of the bureaucrat or technical expert is diminished by the rise of the politician as curator in mediatised policy. The Political AnimalPaul O’Neill defines a political animal: “to be a passionate and human visionary—someone who bridges gaps, negotiates the impossible in order to generate change, even slight change, movements, a shivering” (Bourriaud et al. 90). O’Neill’s definition is a different definition from Aristotle’s famous assertion that humans (collectively) are the “political animal” because they are the only animals to possess speech (Danta and Vardoulakis 3). The essence of O’Neill’s definition shifts from the Aristotelian view that all humans are political, towards what Chris Danta and Dimitris Vardoulakis (4) refer to as “the consumption of the political by politics,” where the domain of the political is the realm of the elite few rather than innately human as Aristotle suggests. Moreover, there is a suggestion in O’Neill’s definition that the “political animal” is the consummate politician, creating change against great opposition. I suggest that this idea of struggle and adversity in O’Neill’s definition echoes policy development’s own “turn” of the early 1990s, “the argumentative turn in policy analysis and planning” (Fischer and Forester 43). The Argumentative Turn The argumentative turn in policy analysis and planning is premised on the assertion that “policy is made of language” (Majone 1). It represents a seismic shift in previously championed academic conceptions of policy analysis—decisionism, rationality, the economic model of choice, and other models that advocate measured, rational, and objective policy development processes. The argumentative turn highlights the importance of communication in policy development. Prior to this turn, policy analysts considered formal communication to be something that happened after policy elites had completed the scientific, objective, analytical, and rational work. Communication was perceived as being the process of “seducing” or the “‘mere words’ that add gloss to the important stuff” (Throgmorton 117–19). Communication had meant selling or “spinning” the policy—a task often left to the devices of the public relations industry by the “less scrupulous” policymaker (Dryzek 227).The new line of inquiry posits the alternative view that, far from communication being peripheral, “the policy process is constituted by and mediated through communicative practices” (Fischer and Gottweis 2). Thanks largely to the work of Deborah Stone and Giandomenico Majone, academics began to ask, “What if our language does not simply mirror or picture the world but instead profoundly shapes our view of it in the first place?” (Fischer and Forester 1). The importance of this turn to the argument, I posit in this paper, is illustrated by Stone when she contends that the communication of conflicting views and interests create a world where paradoxical positions on policy are inevitable. Stone states, “Ask a politician to define a problem and he will probably draw a battlefield and tell you who stands on which side. The analytical language of politics includes ‘for and against,’ ‘supporters and enemies,’ ‘our side and their side’” (166). Stone describes a policymaking process that is inherently difficult. Her ideas echo O’Neill’s intonation that in order for movement or even infinitesimal change it is the negotiation of the impossible that makes a political animal. The Mediatisation of Sydney Transport Stone and Majone speak only cursorily of the media in policy development. However, in recent years academics have increasingly contended that “mediatisation” be recognised as referring to the increasing influence of media in social, cultural, and political spheres (Deacon and Stanyer; Strömbäck and Esser; Shehata and Strömbäck). My own research into the influence of mediatisation on transport policy and projects in Sydney has centred more specifically on the influence of news media. My focus has been a trend towards news media influence in Australian politics and policy that has been observed by academics for more than a decade (Craig; Young; Ward, PR State; Ward, Public Affair; Ward, Power). My research entailed two case study projects, the failed Sydney CBD Metro (SCM) rail line and a North West Rail Link (NWR) currently under construction. Data-gathering included a news media study of 180 relevant print articles; 30 expert interviews with respondents from politics, the bureaucracy, transport planning, news media, and public relations, whose work related to transport (with a number working on the case study projects); and surveys, interviews, and focus groups with 149 public respondents. The research identified projects whose contrasting fortunes tell a significant story in relation to the influence of news media. The SCM, despite being a project deemed to be of considerable merit by the majority of expert respondents, was, as stated by a transport planner who worked on the project, “poorly sold,” which “turned it into a project that was very easy to ridicule.” Following a resulting period of intense news media criticism, the SCM was abandoned. As a transport reporter for a daily newspaper asserts in an interview, the prevailing view in the news media is that the project “was done on the back of an envelope.” According to experts with knowledge of the SCM, that years of planning had been undertaken was not properly presented to the public. Conversely, the experts I interviewed deem the NWR to be a low-priority project for Sydney. As a former chief of staff within both federal and state government departments including transport states, “if you are going to put money into anything in Sydney it would not be the NWR.” However, in the project’s favour is an overwhelming dominant public and media discourse that I label The north-west of Sydney is overdue rail transport. A communications respondent contends in an interview that because the NWR has “been talked about for so long” it holds “the right sighting, if you like, in people’s minds,” in other words, the media and the public have become used to the idea of the project.Ultimately, my findings, dealt with in more detail elsewhere (Richardson), suggest that powerful news media and public discourses, if not managed effectively, can be highly problematic for policymaking. This was found to be the case for the failure of the SCM. It is with this finding that I assert that the concept of curating the discourses surrounding a policy arena could hold considerable merit as a conceptual framework for discourse management. The Curatorial Turn in Policy Development? I was alerted to the idea of curating mediatised policy development during an expert interview for my empirical research. The respondent, chief editor of a Sydney newspaper, stated that, with an overwhelming mountain of information, news, views, and commentary being generated daily through the likes of the Internet and social media, the public needs curators to sift and sort the most important themes and arguments. The expert suggested this is now part of a journalist’s role. The idea of journalists as curators is far from new (Bakker 596). Nor is it the purpose of this paper. However, what struck me in this notion of curating was the critical role of sifting, sorting and ultimately selecting which themes, ideas, or pieces of information are privileged in myriad choices. My own empirical research was indicating that the management of highly influential news media and public discourses surrounding transport infrastructure also involved a considerable level of selection. Therefore, I hypothesised that the concept of curating might aid the managing of discourses when it comes to communicating for successful policy and project development that is subject to news media scrutiny. Research into scholarship has indicated that the concept of “the curatorial turn” is significant to this hypothesis. Since the 1960s the role of curator in art exhibition has shifted from that of “caretaker” for a collection to the shaper of an exhibition (O’Neill, “Turn”; O’Neill, Culture). Central to this shift is “the changing perception of the curator as carer to a curator who has a more creative and active part to play within the production of art itself” (O’Neill, Turn 243). Some commentators go so far as to suggest that curators have become cultural agents that “participate in the production of cultural value” (244). The curator’s role in exhibition design has also been equated to that of an author or auteur that drives an exhibition’s meaning (251–52). Why is this important for policy development? It is my view that there is certainly merit to viewing a significant part of the role of the political animal in policymaking as the curator of public and media discourse. As Beatrix Ruf suggests, the role of the curator is to create a “freedom for things to happen” within “a societal context” that not only takes into account the needs of the “artist” but also the “audience” (Bourriaud et al. 91). If we were to substitute bureaucrat for artist and media/public for audience then Ruf’s suggestion seems particularly relevant for the communication of policy. To return to Bourriaud’s quote that began this paper, perhaps the role of the curator/policymaker is not solely to produce a policy “but to invent, to fabricate, elaborate reading grids or coexistence grids,” to manage the discourses that influence the policy arena (Bourriaud et al. 92). Furthermore, the answer to why the concept of the curatorial turn seems relevant to policy development requires consideration not only of the rise of the voice and influence of the curator/policymaker but also of those at whose expense this shift has occurred. Through the rise of the curator the voice of the artist has dimmed. As the exhibition is elevated to “the status of quasi-artwork,” individual artworks themselves become simply “a useful fragment” (O’Neill, “Turn” 253). One of the underlying tensions of the curatorial turn is the rise of actors that are not practicing artists themselves. In other words, the producers of art, the artists, have less influence over their own practice. In New South Wales (NSW), we have witnessed a similar scenario with the steady rise of the voice and influence of the politician (and political adviser), at the expense of the public service. This loss of bureaucratic power was embedded structurally in the mid-1970s when Premier Neville Wran established the Ministerial Advisory Unit (MAU) to oversee NSW state government decisions. A respondent for my research states that when he began his career as a public servant: politicians didn’t really have a lot of ideas about things … the public service really ran the place … [Premier Wran] said, ‘this isn’t good enough. I’m being manipulated by the government departments. I’m going to set up something called the MAU which is politically appointed as a countervailing force to the bureaucracy to get the advice that I want.’The respondent infers a power grab by political actors to stymie the influence of the bureaucracy. This view is shared by several expert respondents for my research, as well as being substantiated by historian John Gunn (503). One of the clear results of the structural change has been that a politically driven media focus is now embedded in the structure of government policy and project decision-making. Instead of taking its lead from priorities emanating from the community, the bureaucracy is instead left with little choice but to look to the minister for guidance. As a project management consultant to government states in an interview:I think today the bureaucrat who makes the hard administrative decisions, the management decisions, is basically outweighed by communications, public relations, media relations director … the politicians are poll driven not policy driven. The respondent makes a point with which former politician Lindsay Tanner (Tanner) and academic Ian Ward (Ward, Power) agree—Australian politicians are increasingly structuring their operations around news media. The bureaucracy has become less relevant to policymaking as a result. My empirical research indicates this. The SCM and the NWR were highly publicised projects where the views of transport experts were largely ignored. They represent cases where the voice of the experts/artists had been completely suppressed by the voice of the politician/curator. I contend that this is where key questions of the role of the politician and the curator converge. Experts interviewed for my research express concerns that policymaking has been altered by structural changes to the bureaucracy. Similarly, some academics concerned with the rise of the curator question whether the shift will change the very nature of art (O’Neill, Cultures). A shared concern of the art world and those witnessing the policy arena in NSW is that the thoughts and ideas of those that do are being overshadowed by the views of those who talk. In terms of curatorial practice, O’Neill (Cultures) cites the views of Mick Wilson, who speaks of the rise of the “Foucauldian moment” and the “ubiquitous appeal of the term ‘discourse’ as a word to conjure and perform power,” where “even talking is doing something.” As O’Neill contends, “at this extreme, the discursive stands in the place of ‘doing’ within discourses on curatorial practice” (43). O’Neill submits Wilson’s point as an extreme view within the curatorial turn. However, the concern for the art world should be similar to the one experienced in the policy arena. Technical advice from the bureaucracy (doers) to ministers (talkers) has changed. In an interview with me, a partner in one of Australia’s leading architectural and planning practices contends that the technical advice of the bureaucracy to ministers is not as “fearless and robust” as it once was. Furthermore, he is concerned that planners have lost their influence as ministers now look to political advisers rather than technical advisers for direction. He states, “now what happens is most advisors to ministers are political advisers and they will give political advice … the planning advice hasn’t come from the planners.” The ultimate concern is that, through a silencing of the technical expert, policymaking is losing a vital layer of experience and knowledge that can only be to the detriment of the practice and its beneficiaries, the public. The closer one looks, the more evident the similarities between curating and policy development become. Acute budgetary limitations exist. There is an increased reliance on public funding. Large-scale curating, like policy development, involves “a negotiation of the relationship between public and private interests” (Ruf in Bourriaud et al. 90). There is also a tension between short- and long-term outlooks as well as local and global perspectives (Lunghi in Bourriaud et al. 97). And, significantly for my argument for the privileging of the concept of curating of discourse in policy, curating has also been called “a battlefield of ideas in which the public (or audience) has become ‘the big Other’” in that “everything that cannot find its audience, its public, is highly suspicious or very problematic” (Bourriaud in Bourriaud et al. 96–97). The closer the inspection, the starker the similarities of each pursuit. Lessons, Ramifications and Conclusions What can policymakers learn from the curatorial turn? For policymaking, it seems that the argumentative turn, the rise of news mediatisation, the strengthening of power and influence of the politician, and the “Foucauldian moment” have seen the rise of the discursive in place of doing that some quarters identify as being the case with the curatorial turn (O’Neill, Cultures). Therefore, it would be pertinent for policymakers to heed Bourriaud’s statement that began this paper: “the role of the curator is not to produce a concept of art (or policy) but to invent, to fabricate, elaborate reading grids or coexistence grids between them” (Bourriaud et al. 92). Is such a method of curating discourse the way forward for the political animal that seeks to achieve the politically “impossible” in policymaking? Perhaps for policymaking the importance of the concept of curating holds both opportunity and a warning. The opportunity, exemplified by the success of the NWR and the failure of the SCM projects in Sydney, is in accepting the role of media and public discourses in policy development so that they may be more thoroughly investigated and understood before being more effectively folded into the policymaking process. The warning lies in the concerns the curatorial turn has raised over the demise of the artist in light of the rise of discourse. The voice of the technical expert appears to be fading. How do we effectively curate discourses as well as restore the bureaucrat to former levels of robust fearlessness? I dare say it will take a political animal to do either. ReferencesBakker, Piet. “Mr Gates Returns.” Journalism Studies 15.5 (2014): 596–606.Bourriaud, Nicolas, Enrico Lunghi, Paul O’Neill, and Beatrix Ruf. “Is the Curator per Definition a Political Animal?” Rotterdam Dialogues: The Critics, the Curators, the Artists. Eds. 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According to The Betoota Advocate (Parker), a CSIRO (Commonwealth Scientific and Industrial Research Organisation) paper has recently established that “it takes roughly seven minutes on average for a vegan to tell you that they’re vegan” (qtd. in Harrington et al. 135). For such a statement to have currency as a joke means that it is grounded in a shared experience of being vegan on the one hand, and of encountering vegans on the other. Why should vegans feel such a need to justify themselves? I recognise the observation as being true of me, and this article is one way to explore this perspective: writing to find out what I currently only intuit. As Richardson notes (516), writing is “a way of ‘knowing’—a method of discovery and analysis. By writing in different ways, we discover new aspects of our topic and our relationship to it. Form and content are inseparable” (qtd. in Wall 151).Autoethnography, the qualitative research methodology used for this article, is etymologically derived from Greek to indicate a process for exploring the self (autos) and the cultural (“ethno” from ethnos—nation, tribe, people, class) using a shared, understood, approach (“graphy” from graphia, writing). It relies upon critical engagement with and synthesising of the personal. In Wall’s words, this methodological analysis of human experience “says that what I know matters” (148). The autoethnographic investigation (Riggins; Sparkes) reported here interrogates the experience of “being judged” as a vegan: firstly, by myself; secondly, by other vegans; and ultimately by the wider society. As Ellis notes, autoethnography is “research, writing, story and method that connect the autobiographical and personal to the cultural, social and political. Autoethnographic forms feature concrete action, emotion, embodiment, self-consciousness, and introspection” (xix).Introspection is important because researchers’ stories of their observations are interwoven with self-reflexive critique and analysis: “illustrative materials are meant to give a sense of what the observed world is really like, while the researcher’s interpretations are meant to represent a more detached conceptualization of that reality” (Strauss and Corbin 22). Leaving aside Gans’s view that this form of enquiry represents the “climax of the preoccupation with self […] an autobiography written by sociologists” (542), an autoethnography generally has the added advantage of protecting against Glendon and Stanton’s concern that interpretive studies “are often of too short a duration to be able to provide sufficiently large samples of behaviour” (209). In my case, I have twelve years of experience of identifying as a vegan to draw upon.My experience is that being vegan is a contested activity with a significant range of variation that partly reflects the different initial motivations for adopting this increasingly mainstream identity. Greenebaum notes that “ethical vegans differentiate between those who ‘eat’ vegan (health vegans) and those who ‘live’ vegan (ethical vegans)”, going on to suggest that these differences create “hierarchies and boundaries between vegans” (131). As Greenebaum acknowledges, there is sometimes a need to balance competing priorities: “an environmental vegan […] may purchase leather products over polyvinyl chloride (PVC), thinking that leather is a better choice for the environment” (130). Harrington et al. similarly critique vegan motivations as encompassing “a selfless pursuit for those who cared for other beings (animals)” to “a concern about impacts that affect all humans (environment), and an interest mostly in the self (individual health …)” (144). Wright identifies a fourth group of vegans: those searching for a means of dietary inclusivity (2). I have known Orthodox Jewish households that have adopted veganism because it is compatible with keeping Kosher, while many strict Hindus are vegan and some observant Muslims may also follow suit, to avoid meat that is not Halal certified.The Challenge of the EverydayAlthough my initial vegan promptings were firmly at the selfish end of an altruism spectrum, my experience is that motivation is not static. Being a vegan for any reason increasingly primes awareness of more altruistic motivations “at the intersection of a diversity of concerns [… promoting] a spread and expansion of meaning to view food choices holistically” (Harrington et al. 144). Even so, everyday life offers a range of temptations and challenges that require constant juggling and, sometimes, a string of justifications: to oneself, and to others. I identify as a bit of a bad vegan, and not simply because I embrace the possibility that “honey is a gray area” (Greenebaum, quoting her participant Jason, 139). I’m also flexible around wine, for example, and don’t ask too many questions about whether the wine I drink is refined using milk, or egg-shells or even (yuk!) fish bladders. The point is, there are an infinite number of acid tests as to what constitutes “a real vegan”, encouraging inter-vegan judgmentality. Some slight definitional slippage aligns with Singer and Mason’s argument, however, that vegans should avoid worrying about “trivial infractions of the ethical guidelines […] Personal purity isn’t really the issue. Not supporting animal abuse – and persuading others not to support it – is. Giving people the impression that it is virtually impossible to be vegan doesn’t help animals at all” (Singer and Mason 258–9).If I were to accept a definition of non-vegan, possibly because I have a leather handbag among other infractions, that would feel inauthentic. The term “vegan” helpfully labels my approach to food and drink. Others also find it useful as a shorthand for dietary preferences (except for the small but significant minority who muddle veganism with being gluten free). From the point of view of dietary prohibitions I’m a particularly strict vegan, apart from honey. I know people who make exceptions for line-caught fish, or the eggs from garden-roaming happy chooks, but I don’t. I increasingly understand the perspectives of those who have a more radical conception of veganism than I do, however: whose vision and understanding is that “behind every meal of meat is an absence: the death of the animal whose place the meat takes. The ‘absent referent’ is that which separates the meat eater from the animal and the animal from the end product [… keeping] something from being seen as having been someone” (Adams 14). The concept of the global suffering of animals inherent in the figures: “31.1 billion each year, 85.2 million each day, 3.5 million each hour, 59,170 each minute” (Adams dedication) is appalling; as well as being an under-representation of the current situation since the globe has had almost two further decades of population growth and rising “living standards”.Whatever the motivations, it’s easy to imagine that the different branches of veganism have more in common than divides them. Being a vegan of any kind helps someone identify with other variations upon the theme. For example, even though my views on animal rights did not motivate my choice to become vegan, once I stopped seeing other sentient creatures as a handy food source I began to construct them differently. I gradually realised that, as a species, we were committing the most extraordinary atrocities on a global scale in treating animals as disposable commodities without rights or feelings. The large-scale production of what we like to term “meat and poultry” is almost unadulterated animal suffering, whereas the by-catch (“waste products”) of commercial fishing represents an extraordinary disregard of the rights to life of other creatures and, as Cole and Morgan note, “The number of aquatic animals slaughtered is not recorded, their individual deaths being subsumed by aggregate weight statistics” (135). Even if we did accept that humans have the right to consume some animals some of the time, should the netting of a given weight of edible fish really entail the death of many, many time more weight of living creatures that will be “wasted”: the so-called by-catch? Such wanton destruction has increasingly visible impacts upon complex food chains, and the ecosystems that sustain us all.The Vegan Threat to the Status QuoExamining the evidence for the broader community being biased against vegetarians and vegans, MacInnis and Hodson identify that these groups are “clear targets of relatively more negative attitudes” (727) towards them than other minority groups. Indeed, “only drug addicts were evaluated more negatively than vegetarians and vegans” (726). While “vegans were evaluated more negatively than vegetarians” (732), there was a hierarchy in negative evaluations according to the underlying motivation for someone adopting veganism or vegetarianism. People motivated by personal health received the least negative evaluations from the general population followed by those who were motivated by the environment. The greatest opprobrium was reserved for vegans who were motivated by animal rights (732). MacInnis and Hodson reason that this antipathy is because “vegetarians and vegans represent strong threats to the status quo, given that prevailing cultural norms favour meat-eating” (722). Also implied here is that fact that eating meat is itself a cultural norm associated with masculinity (Rothgerber).Adams’s work links the unthinking, normative exploitation of animals to the unthinking, normative exploitation of women, a situation so aligned that it is often expressed through the use of a common metaphor: “‘meat’ becomes a term to express women’s oppression, used equally by patriarchy and feminists, who say that women are ‘pieces of meat’” (2002, 59). Rothberger further interrogates the relationship between masculinity and meat by exploring gender in relation to strategies for “meat eating justification”, reflecting a 1992 United States study that showed, of all people reporting that they were vegetarian, 68% were women and 32% men (Smart, 1995). Rothberger’s argument is that:Following a vegetarian diet or deliberately reducing meat intake violates the spirit of Western hegemonic masculinity, with its socially prescribed norms of stoicism, practicality, seeking dominance, and being powerful, strong, tough, robust and invulnerable […] Such individuals have basically cast aside a relatively hidden male privilege—the freedom and ability to eat without criticism and scrutiny, something that studies have shown women lack. (371)Noting that “to raise concerns about the injustices of factory farming and to feel compelled by them would seem emotional, weak and sensitive—feminine characteristics” (366), Rothberger sets the scene for me to note two items of popular culture which achieved cut-through in my personal life. The evidence for this is, in terms of all the pro-vegan materials I encounter, these were two of a small number that I shared on social media. In line with Rothberger’s observations, both are oppositional to hegemonic masculinity:one represents a feminised, mother and child exchange that captures the moment when a child realises the “absent referent” of the dead animal in the octopus on his plate—https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SrU03da2arE;while the other is a sentimentalised and sympathetic recording of cattle luxuriating in their first taste of pastureland after a long period of confinement—https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=huT5__BqY_U.Seeing cows behaving like pets does call attention to the artificial distinction between “companion animals” and other animals. As Cole and Stewart note, “the naming of other animals is useful for human beings, while it is dangerous, and frequently lethal, for other animals. This is because the words we use to name other animals are saturated with common sense knowledge claims about those animals that legitimate their habitual use for humans” (13). Thus a cat, in Western culture, has a very different life trajectory to a cow. Adams notes the contrary case where the companion animal is used as a referent for a threatened human:Child sexual abusers often use threats and/or violence against companion animals to achieve compliance from their victims. Batterers harm or kill a companion animal as a warning to their partner that she could be next; as a way of further separating her from meaningful relationships; to demonstrate his power and her powerlessness. (Adams 57)For children who are still at a stage where animals are creatures of fascination and potential friends, who may be growing up with Charlotte’s Web (White) or Peter Rabbit (Potter), the mental gymnastics of suspending identification with these fellow creatures are harder because empathy and imagination are more active and the ingrained habit of eating without thinking has not had so long to develop. Indeed, children often understand domestic animals as “members of the family”, as illustrated by an interview with Kani, a 10-year old participant in one of my research projects. “In the absence of her extended family overseas, Kani adds her pets to [the list of] those with whom she shares her family life: ‘And my mum and my uncle and then our cat Dobby. I named it [for Harry Potter’s house elf] ...and the goldfish. The goldfish are Twinkle, Glitter, Glow and Bobby’” (Green and Stevenson). Such perceptions may well filter through to children having a different understanding of animals-as-food, even though Cole and Stewart note that “children enter into an adult culture habituated to [the] banal conceptualization of other animals according to their (dis)utilities” (21).Evidence-Based VeganismThose M/C Journal readers who know me personally will understand that one reason why I embrace the “bad vegan” label, is that I’m no more obviously a pin-up for healthy veganism than I am for ethical or environmental veganism. In particular, my BMI (Body Mass Index) is significantly outside the “healthy” range. Even so, I attribute a dramatic change in my capacity for stamina-based activity to my embrace of veganism. A high-speed recap of the evidence would include: in 2009 I embarked on a week-long 500km Great Vic bike ride; in 2012 I successfully completed a Machu Picchu trek at high altitude; by 2013 I was ready for my first half marathon (reprised in 2014, and 2017); in 2014 I cycled from Surfers’ Paradise to Noosa—somewhat less successfully than in my 2009 venture, but even so; in 2016 I completed the Oxfam 50km in 24 hours (plus a half hour, if I’m honest); and in 2017 I completed the 227km Portuguese Camino; in 2018 I jogged an average of over 3km per day, every day, up until 20 September... Apart from indicating that I live an extremely fortunate life, these activities seem to me to demonstrate that becoming vegan in 2007 has conferred a huge health benefit. In particular, I cannot identify similar metamorphoses in the lives of my 50-to-60-something year-old empty-nester friends. My most notable physical feat pre-veganism was the irregular completion of Perth’s annual 12km City-to-Surf fun run.Although I’m a vegan for health reasons, I didn’t suddenly wake up one day and decide that this was now my future: I had to be coaxed and cajoled into looking at my food preferences very differently. This process entailed my enrolling in a night school-type evening course, the Coronary Health Improvement Program: 16 x 3 hour sessions over eight weeks. Its sibling course is now available online as the Complete Health Improvement Program. The first lesson of the eight weeks convincingly demonstrated that what is good for coronary health is also good for health in general, which I found persuasive and reassuring given the propensity to cancer evident in my family tree. In the generation above me, my parents each had three siblings so I have a sample of eight immediate family to draw upon. Six of these either have cancer at the moment, or have died from cancer, with the cancers concerned including breast (1), prostate (2), lung (1), pancreas (1) and brain (1). A seventh close relative passed away before her health service could deliver a diagnosis for her extraordinarily elevated eosinophil levels (100x normal rates of that particular kind of white blood cell: potentially a blood cancer, I think). The eighth relative in that generation is my “bad vegan” uncle who has been mainly plant-based in his dietary choices since 2004. At 73, he is still working three days per week as a dentist and planning a 240 km trek in Italy as his main 2019 holiday. That’s the kind of future I’m hoping for too, when I grow up.And yet, one can read volumes of health literature without stumbling upon Professor T. Colin Campbell’s early research findings via his work on rodents and rodent cells that: “nutrition [was] far more important in controlling cancer promotion than the dose of the initiating carcinogen” and that “nutrients from animal-based foods increased tumor development while nutrients from plant-based foods decreased tumor development” (66, italics in original). Plant was already an eminent scientist at the point where she developed breast cancer, but she noted her amazement at learning “precisely how much has been discovered already [that] has not filtered through to the public” (18). The reason for the lack of visible research in this area is not so much its absence, but more likely its political sensitivity in an era of Big Food. As Harrington et al.’s respondent Samantha noted, “I think the meat lobby’s much bigger than the vegetable lobby” (147). These arguments are addressed in greater depth in Green et al.My initiating research question—Why do I feel the need to justify being vegan?—can clearly be answered in a wide variety of ways. Veganism disrupts the status quo: it questions both the appropriateness of humanity’s systematic torturing of other species for food, and the risks that those animal-based foods pose for the long-term health of human populations. It offends many vested interests from Big Food to accepted notions of animal welfare to the conventional teachings of the health industry. Identifying as a vegan represents an outcome of one or more of a wide range of motivations, some of which are more clearly self-serving (read “bad”); while others are more easily identified as altruistic (read “good”). After a decade or more of personal experimentation in this space, I’m proud to identify as a “bad vegan”. It’s been a great choice personally and, I hope, for some other creatures whose planet I share.ReferencesAdams, Carol. The Sexual Politics of Meat: A Feminist-Vegetarian Critical Theory. New York: Continuum, 1990.Campbell, T. Colin, and Thomas M. Cambell. The China Study: Startling Implications for Diet, Weight Loss and Long-Term Health. Dallas: BenBella Books, 2005.Cole, Matthew, and Karen Morgan. “Vegaphobia: Derogatory Discourses of Veganism and the Reproduction of Speciesism in UK National Newspaper.” British Journal of Sociology 62 (2011): 134–53.———, and Kate Stewart. Our Children and Other Animals: The Cultural Construction of Human-Animal Relations in Childhood. Farnham: Ashgate, 2014.Ellis, Carolyn. The Ethnographic I: A Methodological Novel about Autoethnography. Oxford: Altamira Press, 2004.Gans, Herbert J. “Participant Observation in the Era of ‘Ethnography’.” Journal of Contemporary Ethnography 28.5 (1999): 540–48.Glendon, A. Ian, and Neville Stanton. “Perspectives on Safety Culture.” Safety Science 34.1-3 (2000): 193–214.Green, Lelia, Leesa Costello, and Julie Dare. “Veganism, Health Expectancy, and the Communication of Sustainability.” Australian Journal of Communication 37.3 (2010): 87–102.———, and Kylie Stevenson. “A Ten-Year-Old’s Use of Creative Content to Construct an Alternative Future for Herself.” M/C Journal 20.1 (2017). 13 Apr. 2019 <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/index.php/mcjournal/article/view/1211>.Greenebaum, Jessica. (2012). “Veganism, Identity and the Quest for Authenticity.” Food, Culture and Society 15.1 (2012): 129–44.Harrington, Stephen, Christie Collis, and OzgurDedehayir. “It’s Not (Just) about the F-ckin’ Animals: Why Veganism Is Changing, and Why That Matters.” Alternative Food Politics: From the Margins to the Mainstream. Eds. Michelle Phillipov and Katherine Kirkwood. New York: Routledge, 2019. 135–50.MacInnes, Cara. C., and Gordon Hodson. “It Ain’t Easy Eating Greens: Evidence of Bias Toward Vegetarians and Vegans from Both Source and Target.” Group Processes and Intergroup Relations 20.6 (2015): 721–44.Parker, Errol. “Study Finds the Easiest Way to Tell If Someone Is Vegan Is to Wait until They Inevitably Tell You.” The Betoota Advocate 2017. 10 Apr. 2019 <https://www.betootaadvocate.com/humans-of-betoota/study-finds-easiest-way-tell-someone-vegan-wait-inevitably-tell/>.Plant, Jane A. Your Life in Your Hands: Understand, Prevent and Overcome Breast Cancer and Ovarian Cancer. 4th ed. London: Virgin Books, 2007.Potter, Beatrix. The Tale of Peter Rabbit. London: Frederick Warne and Co, 1902.Richardson, Laurel. “Writing: A Method of Inquiry.” Handbook of Qualitative Research. Eds. Norman K. Denzon and Yvonne S. Lincoln. Thousand Oaks: Sage, 1994. 516–29.Riggins, Stephen Harold. “Fieldwork in the Living Room: An Autoethnographic Essay.” The Socialness of Things: Essays on the Socio-Semiotics of Objects. Ed. Stephen Harold Riggins. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter, 1994. 101–50.Rothgerber, Hank. “Real Men Don’t Eat (Vegetable) Quiche: Masculinity and the Justification of Meat Consumption.” Psychology of Men and Masculinity 14 (1994): 363–75.Singer, Peter, and Jim Mason. The Ethics of What We Eat. Melbourne: Text Publishing Company.Smart, Joanne. “The Gender Gap.” Vegetarian Times 210 (1995): 74–81.Sparkes, Andrew C. “Autoethnography: ‘Self-Indulgence or Something More?’” Ethnographically Speaking: Auto-Ethnography, Literature and Aesthetics. Eds. Arthur P. Bochner and Carolyn C. Ellis. Oxford: Altamira Press, 2002. 209–32.Strauss, Anselm, and Juliet Corbin. Basics of Qualitative Research: Grounded Theory Procedures and Techniques. London: Sage, 1990.Wall, Sarah. “An Autoethnography on Learning about Autoethnography.” International Journal of Qualitative Methods 5 (2006): 146–60.White, Elwyn B. Charlotte’s Web. New York: Harper and Brothers, 1952.Wright, Laura. The Vegan Studies Project: Food, Animals and Gender in the Age of Terror. Athens: U of Georgia Press, 2015.

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

When George Orwell encountered ideas of a technological utopia sixty-five years ago, he acted the grumpy middle-aged man Reading recently a batch of rather shallowly optimistic “progressive” books, I was struck by the automatic way in which people go on repeating certain phrases which were fashionable before 1914. Two great favourites are “the abolition of distance” and “the disappearance of frontiers”. I do not know how often I have met with the statements that “the aeroplane and the radio have abolished distance” and “all parts of the world are now interdependent” (1944). It is worth revisiting the old boy’s grumpiness, because the rhetoric he so niftily skewers continues in our own time. Facebook features “Peace on Facebook” and even claims that it can “decrease world conflict” through inter-cultural communication. Twitter has announced itself as “a triumph of humanity” (“A Cyber-House” 61). Queue George. In between Orwell and latter-day hoody cybertarians, a whole host of excitable public intellectuals announced the impending end of materiality through emergent media forms. Marshall McLuhan, Neil Postman, Daniel Bell, Ithiel de Sola Pool, George Gilder, Alvin Toffler—the list of 1960s futurists goes on and on. And this wasn’t just a matter of punditry: the OECD decreed the coming of the “information society” in 1975 and the European Union (EU) followed suit in 1979, while IBM merrily declared an “information age” in 1977. Bell theorized this technological utopia as post-ideological, because class would cease to matter (Mattelart). Polluting industries seemingly no longer represented the dynamic core of industrial capitalism; instead, market dynamism radiated from a networked, intellectual core of creative and informational activities. The new information and knowledge-based economies would rescue First World hegemony from an “insurgent world” that lurked within as well as beyond itself (Schiller). Orwell’s others and the Cold-War futurists propagated one of the most destructive myths shaping both public debate and scholarly studies of the media, culture, and communication. They convinced generations of analysts, activists, and arrivistes that the promises and problems of the media could be understood via metaphors of the environment, and that the media were weightless and virtual. The famous medium they wished us to see as the message —a substance as vital to our wellbeing as air, water, and soil—turned out to be no such thing. Today’s cybertarians inherit their anti-Marxist, anti-materialist positions, as a casual glance at any new media journal, culture-industry magazine, or bourgeois press outlet discloses. The media are undoubtedly important instruments of social cohesion and fragmentation, political power and dissent, democracy and demagoguery, and other fraught extensions of human consciousness. But talk of media systems as equivalent to physical ecosystems—fashionable among marketers and media scholars alike—is predicated on the notion that they are environmentally benign technologies. This has never been true, from the beginnings of print to today’s cloud-covered computing. Our new book Greening the Media focuses on the environmental impact of the media—the myriad ways that media technology consumes, despoils, and wastes natural resources. We introduce ideas, stories, and facts that have been marginal or absent from popular, academic, and professional histories of media technology. Throughout, ecological issues have been at the core of our work and we immodestly think the same should apply to media communications, and cultural studies more generally. We recognize that those fields have contributed valuable research and teaching that address environmental questions. For instance, there is an abundant literature on representations of the environment in cinema, how to communicate environmental messages successfully, and press coverage of climate change. That’s not enough. You may already know that media technologies contain toxic substances. You may have signed an on-line petition protesting the hazardous and oppressive conditions under which workers assemble cell phones and computers. But you may be startled, as we were, by the scale and pervasiveness of these environmental risks. They are present in and around every site where electronic and electric devices are manufactured, used, and thrown away, poisoning humans, animals, vegetation, soil, air and water. We are using the term “media” as a portmanteau word to cover a multitude of cultural and communications machines and processes—print, film, radio, television, information and communications technologies (ICT), and consumer electronics (CE). This is not only for analytical convenience, but because there is increasing overlap between the sectors. CE connect to ICT and vice versa; televisions resemble computers; books are read on telephones; newspapers are written through clouds; and so on. Cultural forms and gadgets that were once separate are now linked. The currently fashionable notion of convergence doesn’t quite capture the vastness of this integration, which includes any object with a circuit board, scores of accessories that plug into it, and a global nexus of labor and environmental inputs and effects that produce and flow from it. In 2007, a combination of ICT/CE and media production accounted for between 2 and 3 percent of all greenhouse gases emitted around the world (“Gartner Estimates,”; International Telecommunication Union; Malmodin et al.). Between twenty and fifty million tonnes of electronic waste (e-waste) are generated annually, much of it via discarded cell phones and computers, which affluent populations throw out regularly in order to buy replacements. (Presumably this fits the narcissism of small differences that distinguishes them from their own past.) E-waste is historically produced in the Global North—Australasia, Western Europe, Japan, and the US—and dumped in the Global South—Latin America, Africa, Eastern Europe, Southern and Southeast Asia, and China. It takes the form of a thousand different, often deadly, materials for each electrical and electronic gadget. This trend is changing as India and China generate their own media detritus (Robinson; Herat). Enclosed hard drives, backlit screens, cathode ray tubes, wiring, capacitors, and heavy metals pose few risks while these materials remain encased. But once discarded and dismantled, ICT/CE have the potential to expose workers and ecosystems to a morass of toxic components. Theoretically, “outmoded” parts could be reused or swapped for newer parts to refurbish devices. But items that are defined as waste undergo further destruction in order to collect remaining parts and valuable metals, such as gold, silver, copper, and rare-earth elements. This process causes serious health risks to bones, brains, stomachs, lungs, and other vital organs, in addition to birth defects and disrupted biological development in children. Medical catastrophes can result from lead, cadmium, mercury, other heavy metals, poisonous fumes emitted in search of precious metals, and such carcinogenic compounds as polychlorinated biphenyls, dioxin, polyvinyl chloride, and flame retardants (Maxwell and Miller 13). The United States’ Environmental Protection Agency estimates that by 2007 US residents owned approximately three billion electronic devices, with an annual turnover rate of 400 million units, and well over half such purchases made by women. Overall CE ownership varied with age—adults under 45 typically boasted four gadgets; those over 65 made do with one. The Consumer Electronics Association (CEA) says US$145 billion was expended in the sector in 2006 in the US alone, up 13% on the previous year. The CEA refers joyously to a “consumer love affair with technology continuing at a healthy clip.” In the midst of a recession, 2009 saw $165 billion in sales, and households owned between fifteen and twenty-four gadgets on average. By 2010, US$233 billion was spent on electronic products, three-quarters of the population owned a computer, nearly half of all US adults owned an MP3 player, and 85% had a cell phone. By all measures, the amount of ICT/CE on the planet is staggering. As investigative science journalist, Elizabeth Grossman put it: “no industry pushes products into the global market on the scale that high-tech electronics does” (Maxwell and Miller 2). In 2007, “of the 2.25 million tons of TVs, cell phones and computer products ready for end-of-life management, 18% (414,000 tons) was collected for recycling and 82% (1.84 million tons) was disposed of, primarily in landfill” (Environmental Protection Agency 1). Twenty million computers fell obsolete across the US in 1998, and the rate was 130,000 a day by 2005. It has been estimated that the five hundred million personal computers discarded in the US between 1997 and 2007 contained 6.32 billion pounds of plastics, 1.58 billion pounds of lead, three million pounds of cadmium, 1.9 million pounds of chromium, and 632000 pounds of mercury (Environmental Protection Agency; Basel Action Network and Silicon Valley Toxics Coalition 6). The European Union is expected to generate upwards of twelve million tons annually by 2020 (Commission of the European Communities 17). While refrigerators and dangerous refrigerants account for the bulk of EU e-waste, about 44% of the most toxic e-waste measured in 2005 came from medium-to-small ICT/CE: computer monitors, TVs, printers, ink cartridges, telecommunications equipment, toys, tools, and anything with a circuit board (Commission of the European Communities 31-34). Understanding the enormity of the environmental problems caused by making, using, and disposing of media technologies should arrest our enthusiasm for them. But intellectual correctives to the “love affair” with technology, or technophilia, have come and gone without establishing much of a foothold against the breathtaking flood of gadgets and the propaganda that proclaims their awe-inspiring capabilities.[i] There is a peculiar enchantment with the seeming magic of wireless communication, touch-screen phones and tablets, flat-screen high-definition televisions, 3-D IMAX cinema, mobile computing, and so on—a totemic, quasi-sacred power that the historian of technology David Nye has named the technological sublime (Nye Technological Sublime 297).[ii] We demonstrate in our book why there is no place for the technological sublime in projects to green the media. But first we should explain why such symbolic power does not accrue to more mundane technologies; after all, for the time-strapped cook, a pressure cooker does truly magical things. Three important qualities endow ICT/CE with unique symbolic potency—virtuality, volume, and novelty. The technological sublime of media technology is reinforced by the “virtual nature of much of the industry’s content,” which “tends to obscure their responsibility for a vast proliferation of hardware, all with high levels of built-in obsolescence and decreasing levels of efficiency” (Boyce and Lewis 5). Planned obsolescence entered the lexicon as a new “ethics” for electrical engineering in the 1920s and ’30s, when marketers, eager to “habituate people to buying new products,” called for designs to become quickly obsolete “in efficiency, economy, style, or taste” (Grossman 7-8).[iii] This defines the short lifespan deliberately constructed for computer systems (drives, interfaces, operating systems, batteries, etc.) by making tiny improvements incompatible with existing hardware (Science and Technology Council of the American Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences 33-50; Boyce and Lewis). With planned obsolescence leading to “dizzying new heights” of product replacement (Rogers 202), there is an overstated sense of the novelty and preeminence of “new” media—a “cult of the present” is particularly dazzled by the spread of electronic gadgets through globalization (Mattelart and Constantinou 22). References to the symbolic power of media technology can be found in hymnals across the internet and the halls of academe: technologies change us, the media will solve social problems or create new ones, ICTs transform work, monopoly ownership no longer matters, journalism is dead, social networking enables social revolution, and the media deliver a cleaner, post-industrial, capitalism. Here is a typical example from the twilight zone of the technological sublime (actually, the OECD): A major feature of the knowledge-based economy is the impact that ICTs have had on industrial structure, with a rapid growth of services and a relative decline of manufacturing. Services are typically less energy intensive and less polluting, so among those countries with a high and increasing share of services, we often see a declining energy intensity of production … with the emergence of the Knowledge Economy ending the old linear relationship between output and energy use (i.e. partially de-coupling growth and energy use) (Houghton 1) This statement mixes half-truths and nonsense. In reality, old-time, toxic manufacturing has moved to the Global South, where it is ascendant; pollution levels are rising worldwide; and energy consumption is accelerating in residential and institutional sectors, due almost entirely to ICT/CE usage, despite advances in energy conservation technology (a neat instance of the age-old Jevons Paradox). In our book we show how these are all outcomes of growth in ICT/CE, the foundation of the so-called knowledge-based economy. ICT/CE are misleadingly presented as having little or no material ecological impact. In the realm of everyday life, the sublime experience of electronic machinery conceals the physical work and material resources that go into them, while the technological sublime makes the idea that more-is-better palatable, axiomatic; even sexy. In this sense, the technological sublime relates to what Marx called “the Fetishism which attaches itself to the products of labour” once they are in the hands of the consumer, who lusts after them as if they were “independent beings” (77). There is a direct but unseen relationship between technology’s symbolic power and the scale of its environmental impact, which the economist Juliet Schor refers to as a “materiality paradox” —the greater the frenzy to buy goods for their transcendent or nonmaterial cultural meaning, the greater the use of material resources (40-41). We wrote Greening the Media knowing that a study of the media’s effect on the environment must work especially hard to break the enchantment that inflames popular and elite passions for media technologies. We understand that the mere mention of the political-economic arrangements that make shiny gadgets possible, or the environmental consequences of their appearance and disappearance, is bad medicine. It’s an unwelcome buzz kill—not a cool way to converse about cool stuff. But we didn’t write the book expecting to win many allies among high-tech enthusiasts and ICT/CE industry leaders. We do not dispute the importance of information and communication media in our lives and modern social systems. We are media people by profession and personal choice, and deeply immersed in the study and use of emerging media technologies. But we think it’s time for a balanced assessment with less hype and more practical understanding of the relationship of media technologies to the biosphere they inhabit. Media consumers, designers, producers, activists, researchers, and policy makers must find new and effective ways to move ICT/CE production and consumption toward ecologically sound practices. In the course of this project, we found in casual conversation, lecture halls, classroom discussions, and correspondence, consistent and increasing concern with the environmental impact of media technology, especially the deleterious effects of e-waste toxins on workers, air, water, and soil. We have learned that the grip of the technological sublime is not ironclad. Its instability provides a point of departure for investigating and criticizing the relationship between the media and the environment. The media are, and have been for a long time, intimate environmental participants. Media technologies are yesterday’s, today’s, and tomorrow’s news, but rarely in the way they should be. The prevailing myth is that the printing press, telegraph, phonograph, photograph, cinema, telephone, wireless radio, television, and internet changed the world without changing the Earth. In reality, each technology has emerged by despoiling ecosystems and exposing workers to harmful environments, a truth obscured by symbolic power and the power of moguls to set the terms by which such technologies are designed and deployed. Those who benefit from ideas of growth, progress, and convergence, who profit from high-tech innovation, monopoly, and state collusion—the military-industrial-entertainment-academic complex and multinational commandants of labor—have for too long ripped off the Earth and workers. As the current celebration of media technology inevitably winds down, perhaps it will become easier to comprehend that digital wonders come at the expense of employees and ecosystems. This will return us to Max Weber’s insistence that we understand technology in a mundane way as a “mode of processing material goods” (27). Further to understanding that ordinariness, we can turn to the pioneering conversation analyst Harvey Sacks, who noted three decades ago “the failures of technocratic dreams [:] that if only we introduced some fantastic new communication machine the world will be transformed.” Such fantasies derived from the very banality of these introductions—that every time they took place, one more “technical apparatus” was simply “being made at home with the rest of our world’ (548). Media studies can join in this repetitive banality. Or it can withdraw the welcome mat for media technologies that despoil the Earth and wreck the lives of those who make them. In our view, it’s time to green the media by greening media studies. References “A Cyber-House Divided.” Economist 4 Sep. 2010: 61-62. “Gartner Estimates ICT Industry Accounts for 2 Percent of Global CO2 Emissions.” Gartner press release. 6 April 2007. ‹http://www.gartner.com/it/page.jsp?id=503867›. Basel Action Network and Silicon Valley Toxics Coalition. Exporting Harm: The High-Tech Trashing of Asia. Seattle: Basel Action Network, 25 Feb. 2002. Benjamin, Walter. “Central Park.” Trans. Lloyd Spencer with Mark Harrington. New German Critique 34 (1985): 32-58. Biagioli, Mario. “Postdisciplinary Liaisons: Science Studies and the Humanities.” Critical Inquiry 35.4 (2009): 816-33. Boyce, Tammy and Justin Lewis, eds. Climate Change and the Media. New York: Peter Lang, 2009. Commission of the European Communities. “Impact Assessment.” Commission Staff Working Paper accompanying the Proposal for a Directive of the European Parliament and of the Council on Waste Electrical and Electronic Equipment (WEEE) (recast). COM (2008) 810 Final. Brussels: Commission of the European Communities, 3 Dec. 2008. Environmental Protection Agency. Management of Electronic Waste in the United States. Washington, DC: EPA, 2007 Environmental Protection Agency. Statistics on the Management of Used and End-of-Life Electronics. Washington, DC: EPA, 2008 Grossman, Elizabeth. Tackling High-Tech Trash: The E-Waste Explosion & What We Can Do about It. New York: Demos, 2008. ‹http://www.demos.org/pubs/e-waste_FINAL.pdf› Herat, Sunil. “Review: Sustainable Management of Electronic Waste (e-Waste).” Clean 35.4 (2007): 305-10. Houghton, J. “ICT and the Environment in Developing Countries: Opportunities and Developments.” Paper prepared for the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development, 2009. International Telecommunication Union. ICTs for Environment: Guidelines for Developing Countries, with a Focus on Climate Change. Geneva: ICT Applications and Cybersecurity Division Policies and Strategies Department ITU Telecommunication Development Sector, 2008. Malmodin, Jens, Åsa Moberg, Dag Lundén, Göran Finnveden, and Nina Lövehagen. “Greenhouse Gas Emissions and Operational Electricity Use in the ICT and Entertainment & Media Sectors.” Journal of Industrial Ecology 14.5 (2010): 770-90. Marx, Karl. Capital: Vol. 1: A Critical Analysis of Capitalist Production, 3rd ed. Trans. Samuel Moore and Edward Aveling, Ed. Frederick Engels. New York: International Publishers, 1987. Mattelart, Armand and Costas M. Constantinou. “Communications/Excommunications: An Interview with Armand Mattelart.” Trans. Amandine Bled, Jacques Guot, and Costas Constantinou. Review of International Studies 34.1 (2008): 21-42. Mattelart, Armand. “Cómo nació el mito de Internet.” Trans. Yanina Guthman. El mito internet. Ed. Victor Hugo de la Fuente. Santiago: Editorial aún creemos en los sueños, 2002. 25-32. Maxwell, Richard and Toby Miller. Greening the Media. New York: Oxford University Press, 2012. Nye, David E. American Technological Sublime. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1994. Nye, David E. Technology Matters: Questions to Live With. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press. 2007. Orwell, George. “As I Please.” Tribune. 12 May 1944. Richtel, Matt. “Consumers Hold on to Products Longer.” New York Times: B1, 26 Feb. 2011. Robinson, Brett H. “E-Waste: An Assessment of Global Production and Environmental Impacts.” Science of the Total Environment 408.2 (2009): 183-91. Rogers, Heather. Gone Tomorrow: The Hidden Life of Garbage. New York: New Press, 2005. Sacks, Harvey. Lectures on Conversation. Vols. I and II. Ed. Gail Jefferson. Malden: Blackwell, 1995. Schiller, Herbert I. Information and the Crisis Economy. Norwood: Ablex Publishing, 1984. Schor, Juliet B. Plenitude: The New Economics of True Wealth. New York: Penguin, 2010. Science and Technology Council of the American Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. The Digital Dilemma: Strategic Issues in Archiving and Accessing Digital Motion Picture Materials. Los Angeles: Academy Imprints, 2007. Weber, Max. “Remarks on Technology and Culture.” Trans. Beatrix Zumsteg and Thomas M. Kemple. Ed. Thomas M. Kemple. Theory, Culture [i] The global recession that began in 2007 has been the main reason for some declines in Global North energy consumption, slower turnover in gadget upgrades, and longer periods of consumer maintenance of electronic goods (Richtel). [ii] The emergence of the technological sublime has been attributed to the Western triumphs in the post-Second World War period, when technological power supposedly supplanted the power of nature to inspire fear and astonishment (Nye Technology Matters 28). Historian Mario Biagioli explains how the sublime permeates everyday life through technoscience: "If around 1950 the popular imaginary placed science close to the military and away from the home, today’s technoscience frames our everyday life at all levels, down to our notion of the self" (818). [iii] This compulsory repetition is seemingly undertaken each time as a novelty, governed by what German cultural critic Walter Benjamin called, in his awkward but occasionally illuminating prose, "the ever-always-the-same" of "mass-production" cloaked in "a hitherto unheard-of significance" (48).