Journal articles on the topic 'Introduced organisms – Australia'

Ticks (Ixodida) are haematophagous arthropods that transmit a number of pathogenic organisms, including bacteria, protozoa and viruses, to humans and animals. Globally, there are over 900 species of ticks and Australia has 73 described species, including five introduced and 68 native species. With the exception of only a few Australian tick species, there are still many unanswered questions regarding their taxonomy and systematics, and the phylogeny of Australian ticks is not properly resolved. In recent years, a putative link between tick bites and poorly defined tick-borne illness(es) has been identified (Graves & Stenos 2017) and was the subject of a 2015 Australian Senate Inquiry into Lyme-like illnesses in Australia. There is an urgent need to further categorise Australian ticks, specifically hard ticks (Ixodidae), and accurate identification of Australian ticks is therefore of high importance.

More than twenty exotic vertebrate species are now listed as pests in Australia. Collectively, these pests have a huge economic and environmental impact and pose a major threat to Australia’s ecosystems and unique biodiversity. Management of such pests on a continental scale is a major challenge. Recent advances in biotechnology suggest alternatives to the lethal diseases normally sought for use as biological control agents. One proposal, being investigated in the Pest Animal Control Cooperative Research Centre, Canberra, is the use of biotechnology to develop a new generation of agents that act through controlling reproduction to prevent the build up of pest populations. The core concept is fertility control through immunocontraceptive vaccines delivered by viruses that specifically infect the target pest population. Proof of this exciting concept has been obtained for the mouse and, very recently, the rabbit, and a candidate vaccine vector identified for the fox, portending better control of a trio of Australia’s most pervasive pests. Other advances in biotechnology suggest ways to negate the build up of both innate and acquired immune resistance in target pest populations that normally act to limit the efficacy and effective life of biocontrol agents in the field. Prospects for extending the use of virally vectored vaccines to the field management of wildlife diseases are also identified. Targets for such vaccines include a growing suite of emerging diseases, hosted by Australia’s wildlife, which pose a threat to human and livestock health. Numerous technical challenges remain to be addressed before any of these new agents are ready for use in the field. However, the major risk to their development is now no longer viewed as being technical, but the failure to gain public acceptance for their use in the field. This already significant risk is exasperated by the present heightened level of public concern about all introductions of genetically modified organisms.

Human activities have had an adverse impact on ecosystems on a global scale and have caused an unprecedented redispersal of organisms, with both plants and pathogens moving from their regions of origin to other parts of the world. Invasive plants are a potential threat to ecosystems globally, and their management costs tens of billions of dollars per annum. Rubus anglocandicans (European blackberry) is a serious invasive species in Australia. Herbicide and cultural control methods are generally inefficient or require multiple applications. Therefore, a biological control program using stem and leaf rust strains is the main option in Australia. However, biological control using rusts has been patchy, as host factors, climate, and weather can alter the impact of the rust at different locations. In 2007, Yeoh and Fontanini noticed that blackberry plants on the banks of the Donnelly and Warren rivers in the southwest of Western Australia were dying in areas that were being regularly monitored for the impact of rust as a biological control agent. The symptoms on blackberry became known as the disease “blackberry decline”. Continuous and intensive investigations are required to discover the different biotic and abiotic components associated with specific declines in plant populations. The only agent so far introduced to Australia for the biological control of blackberry is the rust Phragmidium violaceum.

The introduction of domesticated animals into new environments can lead to considerable ecological disruption, and it can be difficult to predict their impact on the new ecosystem. In this study, we use faecal metabarcoding to characterize the diets of three ruminant taxa in the rangelands of south-western New South Wales, Australia. Our study organisms included goats (Capraaegagrushircus) and two breeds of sheep (Ovisaries): Merinos, which have been present in Australia for over two hundred years, and Dorpers, which were introduced in the 1990s. We used High-Throughput Sequencing methods to sequence therbcLand ITS2 genes of plants in the faecal samples, and identified the samples using the GenBank and BOLD online databases, as well as a reference collection of sequences from plants collected in the study area. We found that the diets of all three taxa were dominated by the family Malvaceae, and that the Dorper diet was more diverse than the Merino diet at both the family and the species level. We conclude that Dorpers, like Merinos, are potentially a threat to some vulnerable species in the rangelands of New South Wales.

Sequestrate fungi are a polyphyletic, diverse group of macrofungi with truffle-like, underground (hypogeous) or emergent fruit bodies, which are well represented in Australia and New Zealand. The first species in the region were described in 1844, but sequestrate fungi have been poorly documented until recent times. Regional diversity of sequestrate fungi is high in comparison to other parts of the world: for ascomycetes and basidiomycetes 83 genera and 294 species are currently known in Australia and 32 genera and 58 species in New Zealand. Only an estimated 12–23% of species are known for Australia and 25–30% for New Zealand. On that basis, between 1278–2450 species may occur in Australia and 193–232 in New Zealand. Centres of diversity for some groups of sequestrate fungi occur in the region, e.g. Russulaceae (five known genera, 68 species) and Cortinariaceae (eight genera, 33 species). Some other groups are less diverse than in the northern hemisphere, e.g. sequestrate Boletaceae (seven genera, 25 species). More than 35% of Australian sequestrate genera and 95% of species are endemic; for New Zealand about 45% of sequestrate genera and 80% of species are endemic. Australia and New Zealand share similarities in sequestrate fungi at generic level (11% of total) but do not share many of the same species (4% of total). Knowledge of biogeographical distributions is limited by incomplete taxonomic knowledge and insufficient collections. Some Gondwanan, Australasian and widespread/cosmopolitan patterns are evident. Some exotic sequestrate fungi have been recently introduced and some fungi indigenous to the region occur world-wide as exotics with eucalypt plantings. Within Australia and New Zealand, there is evidence that characteristic suites of fungi co-occur in different climatic and vegetation types. Mycorrhizas of Australian and New Zealand taxa have a range of morphological and physiological attributes relating to their effect on plants and broader roles in ecosystem nutrient cycling and health. Spores of sequestrate fungi are dispersed by a range of fauna. There are tripartite inter-dependent interactions between mycorrhizal plants, sequestrate fungi and native mammals and birds that use the fungi as food. Major environmental influences affecting the distribution, diversity and abundance of sequestrate fungi include climate, topography, soil, vegetation and animals. Imposed upon such influences are a range of natural and human-induced disturbance factors which alter habitat heterogeneity, e.g. fire, fragmentation and replacement of native vegetation and exotic organisms. Rare and endangered sequestrate fungi are likely to occur in Australia and New Zealand, but for most taxa there is insufficient data to determine rarity or commonality. In the face of poor knowledge, assemblage-based and habitat-based approaches are the most appropriate for conservation and management of sequestrate fungi. Habitat heterogeneity may be important for the fungi at scales ranging from different climatic and vegetation types to local topographic-related variations.

Changes in benthic communities in Port Phillip Bay, Australia, were assessed over a 25- year period by comparing an intense bay-wide survey carried out in the early 1970s, a 3-year study in the mid 1970s, a limited survey in the early 1990s, and a resurvey in the mid 1990s. A major division of benthic communities into those on deeper muddy sediments and those on marginal sandy sediments persisted was less well defined (by ordination methods) in the 1990s than in the 1970s. The densities of individuals and species declined significantly, but absolute numbers of taxa did not change noticeably. Nevertheless, temporal variability in all variables over 25 years was within the range reported for the 3- year study. Polychaetes have become relatively more abundant than crustaceans and molluscs, and the proportion of suspension-feeding organisms has increased at the expense of deposit feeders. The introduced Japanese bivalve Theora lubrica was the most abundant invertebrate in the 1970s. In the 1990s, this species, the European bivalve Corbula gibba and the polychaete Euchone limnicola were the most abundant. Decreasing abundances of macrobenthic invertebrates, and a decreasing proportion of deposit feeders, is consistent with a decrease in nutrient load from moderate to low levels—such as occurred with reduced discharge from Melbourne’s sewage treatment plant—but lack of contemporaneous data prevents further explanation.

AbstractThe leucaena psyllid, Heteropsylla cubana Crawford, can devastate plantings of Leucaena leucocephala (Leguminosae), an economically important tree species in the Pacific Islands, Southeast Asia, Australia, India, Africa, and elsewhere. The predatory beetle, Curinus coeruleus Mulsant (Coleoptera: Coccinellidae), has been introduced into many of these areas from Hawaii for biological control of the psyllid. In this study, collections of C. coeruleus were made from 11 populations on four islands in the Hawaiian archipelago to determine population structure and estimate levels of gene flow. Over all populations, a measure of population subdivision, θ was 0.095, and the estimate of Nem, the average migration rate, was 2.4. θ values for the individual islands were 0.02, 0.12, 0.24 and 0.05 for Kauai, Hawaii, Maui, and Oahu, respectively. Estimated levels of gene flow between populations were not correlated with geographic distance, therefore isolation by distance does not appear to be an important process structuring C. coeruleus populations. Gene flow estimates can be used to characterize dispersal capabilities in insects or other organisms released for biological control. In this case, the inferior dispersal ability of C. coeruleus likely limits its rapid widespread establishment during release programmes.

AbstractThe 2.0–1.8-billion-year-old Stirling Range Formation in southwestern Australia preserves the deposits of a siliciclastic shoreline formed under the influence of storms, longshore currents, and tidal currents. Sandstones contain a megascopic fossil biota represented by discoidal fossils similar to the Ediacaran Aspidella Billings, 1872, as well as ridge pairs preserved in positive hyporelief on the soles of channel-fill sandstones bounded by mud drapes. The ridges run parallel or nearly parallel for most of their length, meeting in a closed loop at one end and opening with a slight divergence at the opposite end. The ridges are interpreted as casts of sediment-laden mucus strings formed by the movement of multicellular or syncytial organisms along a muddy surface. The taxa Myxomitodes stirlingensis n. igen., n. isp., are introduced for these traces. The Stirling biota was roughly coeval with other presumed multicellular eukaryotes appearing after a long period of profound environmental changes involving a rise in ambient oxygen levels, similar to that which preceded the Cambrian explosion. The failure of multicellular life to diversify during most of the Proterozoic may be due to environmental constraints related to the comparatively low level of oxidation of the world oceans.

AbstractThe 2.0–1.8-billion-year-old Stirling Range Formation in southwestern Australia preserves the deposits of a siliciclastic shoreline formed under the influence of storms, longshore currents, and tidal currents. Sandstones contain a megascopic fossil biota represented by discoidal fossils similar to the Ediacaran Aspidella Billings, 1872, as well as ridge pairs preserved in positive hyporelief on the soles of channel-fill sandstones bounded by mud drapes. The ridges run parallel or nearly parallel for most of their length, meeting in a closed loop at one end and opening with a slight divergence at the opposite end. The ridges are interpreted as casts of sediment-laden mucus strings formed by the movement of multicellular or syncytial organisms along a muddy surface. The taxa Myxomitodes stirlingensis n. igen., n. isp., are introduced for these traces. The Stirling biota was roughly coeval with other presumed multicellular eukaryotes appearing after a long period of profound environmental changes involving a rise in ambient oxygen levels, similar to that which preceded the Cambrian explosion. The failure of multicellular life to diversify during most of the Proterozoic may be due to environmental constraints related to the comparatively low level of oxidation of the world oceans.

The suitability of the nematode Parastrongyloides trichosuri (Nematoda: Strongyloididae) as a genetically modified vector for transmissible fertility control of introduced brushtail possums (Trichosurus vulpecula) is being explored in New Zealand. This review of progress in assessing the ecological and epidemiological characteristics of P. trichosuri against a set of essential properties for a suitable transmissible vector indicates that the parasite appears to have all the attributes of a highly effective vector, although additional information on persistence at low host density and on the outcome of competition between existing infection and new (recombinant) strains is needed to confirm this. Concerns have been raised about risks to possums and other marsupials in Australia from a genetically modified form of P. trichosuri. An international body with responsibility for managing consultation and debate about issues arising from the proposed use of genetically modified organisms for vertebrate pest management has been suggested as a way of addressing such concerns. A key issue remains as to which agency or group of agencies would take responsibility for such a body. A joint meeting of relevant agencies and researchers is needed urgently to begin the process of moving this issue forward.

The fore-sighting exercise undertaken at the Australian Rangeland Society Conference at Port Augusta 10 years ago in 1996 developed four scenarios: ‘economic growth’, ‘best practice’, ‘extra green’ and ‘partial retreat’. These were later collapsed into two broad directions, ‘looking out’ (the economic rewards generated by a full application of free market policies with rangeland enterprises having strong external linkages will result in production and management efficiencies which benefit the Australian economy) and ‘looking in’ (rangeland Australia and its human, economic and ecological resources will be best served by the development and maintenance of strong local communities in each rangeland region). It was anticipated that ‘looking out’ would apply to only a few rangeland regions where pastoral production is highly valued and rangelands are resilient; ‘looking in’ would apply to the majority of the rangelands where other values might outweigh pastoral production in the future and where the rangeland resource is considered less resilient. Given the world’s embrace of economic and trade globalisation, and the dominance in the federal sphere of one coalition government and one prime minister, it seems inevitable that across Australia the last 10 years were dominated by the ‘looking out’ direction, while many marginal rangelands had few options but to ‘look in’. The 1996 discussions failed to appreciate fully the importance in shaping today’s world of singular issues such as terrorism, global climate change, potential disease pandemics, the emergence of China and India and, in an Australian rangelands context, the continuing success of the northern beef industry. In the interim, rangelands science has produced an impressive underpinning of integrative information led both by industry investment and government funding. However, long-term resilience is still not assured in many areas of Australia’s rangelands. It continues to be outpaced by those four horsemen of the (rangelands) apocalypse: the need for growth, periodic droughts, personal gain and introduced organisms. During the next 2 decades the rangelands will be buffeted by many of the same old issues and well as obvious emerging ones. Important human-centric ones will be the tension between European and Aboriginal demographic trends, the increased economic dominance of mining, tourism and defence in the rangelands, and the ‘sponge effect’ of successful towns and particular enterprises. Ecological and bio-physical issues will include carbon trading, energy generation, water catchments, weeds and diseases and agricultural incursions into the northern rangelands. The broad directions of ‘looking out’ and ‘looking in’ still retain some currency for today’s rangeland decision makers but are now embedded in far stronger and shifting currents that are frequently determined by global and national dynamics, rather than local issues. A distinguishing feature of the Australian rangelands is that they are still essentially intact (apart from their fauna) in a world context and may gain future ecological and economic advantage by remaining so. How to retain this status remains one of the great challenges for the next generation of Australian rangelanders.

SUMMARYThe state of Queensland has the highest incidence of Q fever in Australia. In recent years, there has been an increase in human cases where no contacts with the typical reservoir animals or occupations were reported. The aim of this study was to determine the seroprevalence of Coxiella burnetii in Australian native animals and introduced animals in northern and southeastern Queensland. Australian native marsupials sampled included the brushtail possum (Trichosurus vulpecula) and common northern bandicoot (Isoodon macrourus). Introduced species sampled included dingoes (Canis lupus dingo), cats (Felis catus), foxes (Vulpes vulpes) and pigs (Sus scrofa). Serum samples were tested by ELISA for both phase II and phase I antigens of the organism using an Australian isolate. The serological evidence of C. burnetii infection demonstrated in these species has public health implications due to their increasing movement into residential areas in regional Queensland. This study is the first known investigation of C. burnetii seroprevalence in these species in northern Queensland.

This study examined the performance of Poanes viator (Edwards) (Hesperiidae), a native North American skipper, and Rhizedra lutosa (Hübner) (Noctuidae), an introduced moth, reared on native and non-native, invasive lineages of Phragmites australis. Poanes viator is a generalist on monocots and larvae were also fed leaves of Zizania aquatica, a native macrophyte that the skipper commonly uses as a host plant. Larval survival and duration, pupal weight, and pupation time were compared for P. viator feeding on leaf tissue and R. lutosa feeding on rhizomes of either native or introduced plants. We also tested an artificial diet supplemented with P. australis rhizome powder as a potential food for rearing other stalk and rhizome boring Lepidoptera. In experiments using excised plant tissues, some individuals of both species fed and developed to the pupal stage on native and introduced plants, but overall, larval survival rates were low. Plant species/haplotype identity did not cause strong differences in larval survival for either species. However, P. viator larvae only pupated when feeding on native plants (Zizania aquatica and native P. australis haplotypes), whereas R. lutosa successfully pupated on both native and introduced P. australis. Although larval survival was low, 100% of P. viator and 95% of R. lutosa that reached the pupal stage emerged as adults. Rhizedra lutosa larvae fed an artificial diet supplemented with P. australis rhizome powder had significantly greater survival and pupal weights, and shorter pupation times than larvae fed rhizomes only. Several specialist Lepidopteran species are being considered for approval as biological control agents for the non-native P. australis haplotype, and the convenience and increased larval performance make this artificial diet a good alternative for rearing organisms.

Lourens Baas Becking (1895-1963) was a Dutch plant physiologist, trained in the Botanical Laboratory of Utrecht University. After graduating in 1919, he worked in America at Stanford University, where he obtained his Doctor’s degree in 1921. From 1928, he was Herzstein Professor of Biology and Director of the Jacques Loeb Physiological Laboratory at the Hopkins Marine Station in Palo Alto. In 1931, he became Professor of General Botany at the University of Leiden. There, he and his staff and students continued to work on the research of microorganisms under extreme saline conditions. In 1939, he was appointed Director of the institutes of the Botanic Garden at Buitenzorg (Bogor) in the Dutch East Indies (Indonesia). In May 1940, when the war broke out, he was in Leiden to retire from his professorship. The war prevented his return to his family and the institutes in the East Indies. Baas Becking made several failed attempts to escape to England. These resulted in imprisonments by the German occupying authorities in Scheveningen (1940-1941) and in Utrecht and the German Zuchthaus in Siegburg (1944-1945). An ordeal that he barely survived due to the inhuman situation in the penitentiary and typhus. In July and August 1944, as a prisoner of the German Kriegsmarine in Utrecht, he wrote in seven weeks a manuscript of Geobiology, an essay on the relationship between living organisms and the earth. It was an update of his earlier ideas. Baas Becking had been inspired by Lawrence Henderson’s The Fitness of the Environment (1913), Victor Moritz Goldschmidt's Der Stoffwechsel der Erde (1922) and Grundlagen der quantitativen Geochemie (1933), Alfred J. Lotka’s Elements of Physical Biology (1924) and Vladimir Vernadsky’s La Géochimie (1924). They were with Frank W. Clarke’s The Data of Geochemistry (1916), sources for his perception of The Universality of Life in 1927, which integrated Vernadsky’s concepts of biosphere and geosphere. Long before James Lovelock and Lynn Margulis defined the Gaia hypothesis in the early 1970s, Baas Becking discussed Gaia or Life and Earth in his inaugural address in 1931. In this tract he also succinctly summarised the ubiquity hypothesis, borrowed from the work of Martinus Beijerinck, as “Everything is everywhere, but the Milieu selects.” The biological “law” was further elaborated in Geobiologie of inleiding tot de milieukunde (1934, English version 2016, Baas Becking’s Geobiology). In the Utrecht prison Baas Becking wrote his scientific testament. In the ten years since the publication of Geobiologie, he “wished to do justice to the work that was performed in Leiden by so many workers”, in an English textbook. With a limited access to scientific literature, he wrote the manuscript Geobiology in a ledger in a barely legible handwriting. The document reflected his vast biological knowledge and his idea of mutual dependence of vital-units (cells, tissues, organs, organism, communities), either of a parasitic, mutualistic or commensalistic character. This relationship was elaborated in his model of symbiosis. His description of the role of man in Geobiology is a personal complaint of a geobiologist over the disastrous treatment of the earth by man. With his concept of “dissipation”, he introduced a material analogue for “the entropy lowering capacity of living systems”. It summarised his conviction that the human intellect and life condition were attributes of free will. Although Geobiology (1944) remained unfinished and had major gaps, it still is an inspiring memoir of a scientist who records his enlightened vision on the relationship between life and earth. In this issue of Geochemical Perspectives the manuscript of Geobiology is integrally transcribed, annotated, edited and introduced by Dr. Alexander J.P. Raat, who graduated in 1974 in Leiden as a plant physiologist. The transcript is published with the original illustrations. A sketch of Baas Becking’s life and works is part of the introduction. The annotation and introduction refer to many of his published and unpublished studies. Among these is an unpublished, further updated and revised version of Geobiology, which he completed in 1953 in Australia.

In the late 1960s the Swiss pharmaceutical company Hoffmann-La Roche was attracted to the pharmacological potential of extractives from Australian marine organisms. At first the company supported the work of University of Queensland zoologist Robert Endean and work at the Great Barrier Reef Research Station on Heron Island. Within a few years, however, they severed their connection with Endean and established the Roche Research Institute of Marine Pharmacology (RRIMP) at Dee Why, New South Wales. Opened in April 1974, the Institute was led by Dr J. T. Baker, an Australian organic chemist who had researched marine natural products. State-of-the-art pharmacology was introduced with guidance from Professor Michael Rand of the University of Melbourne. The staff that Baker recruited included chemists, pharmacologists, microbiologists and marine biologists. Despite the conjecture, raised in some quarters, that RRIMP was established to mute the Australian Government's criticism of the pricing of Roche's most famous product, Valium, it is argued that the research venture was a genuine attempt to find lead compounds in organisms from Australian waters with a view to the development of new drugs. Before any such success could be achieved by RRIMP scientists, however, sweeping changes in the parent company resulted in the closure of RRIMP in mid-1981 and dispersal of its expert staff, mostly to other Australian laboratories.

European rabbits are exotic pests in Australia, New Zealand, parts of South America and Europe, and on many islands. Their abundance, and the damage they cause, might be reduced by the release of naturally occurring or genetically modified organisms (GMOs) that act as biological control agents (BCAs). Some promising pathogens and parasites of European rabbits and other lagomorphs are discussed, with special reference to those absent from Australia as an example of the range of necessary considerations in any given case. The possibility of introducing these already-known BCAs into areas where rabbits are pests warrants further investigation. The most cost-effective method for finding potentially useful but as-yet undiscovered BCAs would be to maintain a global watch on new diseases and pathologies in domestic rabbits. The absence of wild European rabbits from climatically suitable parts of North and South America and southern Africa may indicate the presence there of useful BCAs, although other explanations for their absence are possible. Until the non-target risks of deploying disseminating GMOs to control rabbits have been satisfactorily minimised, efforts to introduce BCAs into exotic rabbit populations should focus on naturally occurring organisms. The development of safe disseminating GMOs remains an important long-term goal, with the possible use of homing endonuclease genes warranting further investigation.

The aim of this study was to examine the values and attitudes held by Australasian wildlife managers as they relate to wildlife management issues, and to gain some insight into possible future directions and priorities for Australasian wildlife management. During December 2002 – February 2003, 138 questionnaires were completed by members of the Australasian Wildlife Management Society (AWMS) and registrants of the 2002 AWMS annual conference. Threatened species management, threatened communities/habitats, and management of introduced species were the issues rated as needing the highest priority for the Australasian Wildlife Management Society. Issues such as animal rights, genetically modified organisms and timber harvesting on public lands were the lowest-rating issues. Respondents expressed a strong belief in managing and controlling wildlife to achieve wildlife management objectives, a strong belief that wildlife should be protected and that wildlife managers should minimise the pain and suffering of individual animals, and a belief that resources should be directed towards conserving wildlife populations rather than protecting individual animals from non-threatened populations. While respondents held a strong belief that it is important to consult the community when developing wildlife management policies and programs, there was little support for a comanagerial approach where the community has a significant role to play in decision-making processes.

Since its conceptualization in 1854, 29 species of the colubrid genus Stegonotus have been recognized or described, of which 15 (admiraltiensis, batjanensis, borneensis, cucullatus, derooijae, diehli, florensis, guentheri, iridis, heterurus, melanolabiatus, modestus, muelleri, parvus, poechi) are still considered valid today. Original species descriptions for the members of this genus were published in Dutch, English, French, German, and Italian and, perhaps as a consequence of these polyglot origins, there has been a considerable amount of confusion over which species names should be applied to which populations of Stegonotus throughout its range across Borneo, the Philippines, Wallacea, New Guinea, Australia, and associated archipelagos. In addition, the terminology used to notate characteristics in the descriptions of these forms was not uniform and may have added to the taxonomic confusion. In this paper, we trace in detail the history of the type specimens, the species, and the synonyms currently associated with the genus Stegonotus and provide a basic, species-specific listing of their characteristics, derived from our examination of over 1500 museum specimens. Based on our data, we are able to limit the distribution of S. modestus to the islands of Ambon, Buru, and Seram in the central Moluccas of Indonesian Wallacea. We correct the type locality of S. cucullatus to the Manokwari area on the Bird’s Head Peninsula of West Papua, Indonesian New Guinea and designate a neotype for S. parvus, a species likely to be a regional endemic in the Schouten Archipelago of Cenderawasih Bay (formerly Geelvink Bay), Indonesian New Guinea. We unequivocally identify and explain the problematic localities of the type specimens of S. muelleri and Lycodon muelleri, which currently reside in the same specimen jar. We remove L. aruensis and L. lividum from the synonymy of S. modestus and recognize them as S. aruensis n. comb. and S. lividus n. comb., respectively. We remove S. keyensis and Zamenophis australis from the synonymy of S. cucullatus and recognize them as S. keyensis n. comb. and S. australis n. comb., respectively. We further remove S. reticulatus from the synonymy of S. cucullatus, S. dorsalis from the synonymy of S. diehli, and S. sutteri from the synonymy of S. florensis. We designate lectotypes for S. guentheri, S. heterurus, S. lividus, and S. reticulatus. Lastly, we introduce S. poechi, a valid species not mentioned in the scientific literature since its description in 1924. This brings the diversity in the genus Stegonotus to 22 species. We also caution that in a complex group of organisms like Stegonotus any rush to taxonomic judgment on the basis of molecular and incomplete morphological data sets may perpetuate errors and introduce incongruities. Only through the careful work of connecting type material with museum specimens and molecular data can the taxonomy and nomenclature of complex taxa be stabilized.

Invasive plants can respond to injury from natural enemies by altering the quantity and distribution of biomass among woody materials, foliage, fruits, and seeds. Melaleuca, an Australian tree that has naturalized in south Florida, has been reunited with two natural enemies: a weevil introduced during 1997 and a psyllid introduced during 2002. We hypothesized that herbivory from these and other adventive organisms (lobate-lac scale and a leaf-rust fungus) would alter the distribution and allocation of biomass on melaleuca trees. This hypothesis was tested by temporally assessing changes in aboveground biomass components in conjunction with the presence of natural enemies and their damage to melaleuca trees. Melaleuca trees of different diameters representing the range (1 to 33 cm diam at 1.3 m height) within study sites were harvested during 1996, prior to the introduction of herbivorous insects, and again during 2003 after extensive tree damage had become apparent. Aboveground biomass, partitioned into several components (woody structures, foliage, fruits, and seeds), was quantified both times in Broward, Miami–Dade, and Palm Beach county sites located in south Florida. The two harvests within each site were performed in closely-matched melaleuca stands, and changes in biomass components were compared between years. Total biomass and woody portions decreased in Broward, whereas they increased in Miami–Dade and Palm Beach sites. Reductions in foliage (on all trees) and seed biomass (among seed-bearing trees) were greatest at Broward and least at Miami–Dade County site. Hence, overall seed and foliage production was severely reduced at the Broward site where both the natural enemy incidence and damage were more abundant compared to other sites. We therefore attribute the reduced foliar biomass and reproductive capability of melaleuca trees to infestations of natural enemies. These findings highlight the role that natural enemies can play in the long-term management of invasive tree species.

Humans are the most invasive of vertebrates and they have taken many plants and animals with them to colonise new environments. This has been particularly so in Australasia, where Laurasian and domesticated taxa have collided with ancient Gondwanan ecosystems isolated since the Eocene Epoch. Many plants and animals that humans introduced benefited from their pre-adaptation to their new environments and some became invasive, damaging the biodiversity and agricultural value of the invaded ecosystems. The invasion of non-native organisms is accelerating with human population growth and globalisation. Expansion of trade has seen increases in purposeful and accidental introductions, and their negative impacts are regarded as second only to activities associated with human population growth. Here, the theoretical processes, economic and environmental costs of invasive alien species (i.e. weeds and vertebrate pests) are outlined. However, defining the problem is only one side of the coin. We review some theoretical underpinnings of invasive species science and management, and discuss hypotheses to explain successful biological invasions. We consider desired restoration states and outline a practical working framework for managing invasive plants and animals to restore, regenerate and revegetate invaded Australasian ecosystems.

Abstract. Branched Glycerol Dialkyl Glycerol Tetraethers (GDGTs) are membrane spanning lipids synthesised by as yet unknown bacteria that thrive in soils and peat. In order to obtain more information on their ecological niche, the stable carbon isotopic composition of branched GDGT-derived alkanes, obtained upon ether bond cleavage, has been determined in various soils, i.e. peat, forest, grassland and cropland, covered by various vegetation types, i.e., C3- vs. C4-plant type. These δ13C values are compared with those of bulk organic matter and higher plant derived n-alkanes from the same soils. With average δ13C values of −28‰, branched GDGTs in C3 soils are only slightly depleted (ca. 1‰) relative to bulk organic carbon and on average 8.5‰ enriched relative to plant wax-derived long-chain n-alkanes (nC29–nC33). In an Australian soil covered with C4 type vegetation, the branched GDGTs have a δ13C value of −18‰, clearly higher than observed in soils with C3 type vegetation. As with C3 vegetated soils, branched GDGT δ13C values are slightly depleted (1‰) relative to bulk organic carbon and enriched (ca. 5‰) relative to n-alkanes in this soil. The δ13C values of branched GDGT lipids being similar to bulk organic carbon and their co-variation with those of bulk organic carbon and plant waxes, suggest a heterotrophic life style and assimilation of relatively heavy and likely labile substrates for the as yet unknown soil bacteria that synthesise the branched GDGT lipids. However, a chemoautotrophic lifestyle, i.e. consuming respired CO2, could not be fully excluded based on these data alone. Based on a natural labelling experiment of a C3/C4 crop change introduced on one of the soils 23 years before sampling and based on a free air CO2 enrichment experiment with labelled CO2 on another soil, a turnover time of ca. 17 years has been estimated for branched GDGTs in these arable soils.

Abstract. Branched Glycerol Dialkyl Glycerol Tetraethers (GDGTs) are membrane spanning lipids synthesised by as yet unknown bacteria that thrive in soils and peat. In order to obtain more information on their ecological niche, the stable carbon isotopic composition of branched GDGT-derived alkanes, obtained upon ether bond cleavage, has been determined in a peat and various soils, i.e. forest, grassland and cropland, covered by various vegetation types, i.e., C3- vs. C4-plant type. These δ13C values are compared with those of bulk organic matter and higher plant derived n-alkanes from the same soils. With average δ13C values of −28‰, branched GDGTs in C3 soils are only slightly depleted (ca. 1‰) relative to bulk organic carbon and on average 8.5‰ enriched relative to plant wax-derived long-chain n-alkanes ( nC29–nC33). In an Australian soil dominantly covered with C4 type vegetation, the branched GDGTs have a δ13C value of −18‰, clearly higher than observed in soils with C3 type vegetation. As with C3 vegetated soils, branched GDGT δ13C values are slightly depleted (1‰) relative to bulk organic carbon and enriched (ca. 5‰) relative to n-alkanes in this soil. The δ13C values of branched GDGT lipids being similar to bulk organic carbon and their co-variation with those of bulk organic carbon and plant waxes, suggest a heterotrophic life style and assimilation of relatively heavy and likely labile substrates for the as yet unknown soil bacteria that synthesise the branched GDGT lipids. However, a chemoautotrophic lifestyle, i.e. consuming respired CO2, could not be fully excluded based on these data alone. Based on a natural labelling experiment of a C3/C4 crop change introduced on one of the soils 23 years before sampling and based on a free-air CO2 enrichment experiment with labelled CO2 on another soil, a turnover time of ca. 18 years has been estimated for branched GDGTs in these arable soils.

Early detection of biological invasions is critical to reducing their impact, but because invading organisms are initially at low densities, detection and eradication can be challenging. Here, we demonstrate the utility of faecal DNA analysis for the detection of an elusive invasive species – the red fox, Vulpes vulpes, which was illegally introduced to the island of Tasmania in the late 1990s. Foxes are a devastating pest to both wildlife and agriculture on the Australian mainland, and would have a similarly serious impact in Tasmania if they became established. Attempts to eradicate foxes from Tasmania have been hampered by unreliable distribution data derived mostly from public sightings. In response, we developed a highly accurate and reliable DNA-based PCR-multiplex test that identifies foxes from field-collected faeces. We also developed a sexing test, but it was reliable only for faeces less than three weeks old. Faeces are a useful target for DNA-based diagnostics in foxes because they are deposited in prominent locations and are long-lasting. The species identification test formed a key component of a Tasmania-wide detection and eradication program. In all, 1160 geo-referenced carnivore scats were analysed; of these, 78% contained DNA of sufficient quality for species identification. A single scat from the north-east of the island was identified as belonging to fox, as was a nine-week-old roadkill carcass from the north coast, and a blood sample from near Hobart, triggering increased control and surveillance in these regions. The accuracy, reliability, and cost-effectiveness of non-invasive tests make them a critical adjunct to traditional tools for monitoring cryptic invasive species that are at low density in the early stages of invasion and when eradication is still an option.

The use of ultra-diluted preparations method in agriculture was introduced with agro-homeopathy, which allows to influence biological processes of plants by either accelerating or delaying growth. Moreover, it can contribute to the control of plagues and diseases, directly promoting an increase of the yield and an improvement of product qualitative traits. Since the pioneering works of Kolisko on wheat germination [1] and Junker on growth of microorganisms (paramecium, yeast, fungi) [2], in the last 30 years work has flourished from independent researchers from worldwide (Americas, Europe and Australasia). The international research works on agro-homeopathy can be conceptually divided in two main groups: effects of ultra-diluted preparations on crop growth and applicability for crop disease control. The first type of investigations usually are carried out on both healthy organisms for determining the growth stimulation of treatments and on abiotically stressed plants (i.e. heavy metal over-exposition, salt excess, water and nutrients deficiency) for determining the re-growth stimulation of ultra-dilutions [3,4]. The second type of investigations are usually performed on artificially diseased organisms (i.e. fungal and viral pathogens or nematode infection), which may react more markedly to homeopathic treatments than healthy ones [5]. Unfortunately, on the basis of the extensive critical review of published papers, there is little firm evidence to support the reliability of the reported results. Except for a limited number of publications, the most common drawbacks of agro-homeopathy researches are the poor experimental methodology and the inadequate statistical analysis. Moreover, since there is no agricultural homeopathic pharmacopoeia, much work is required to find suitable remedies, potencies and dose levels. Considering the criticism on the practical applicability of ultra-diluted preparations, in order to be accepted as a valid part of agricultural practices a well structured research strategy for agro-homeopathy is needed. This is often hampered by methodological problems as well as by the general underinvestment on the academic and nonacademic research structures. Fundamental researches based on collaborative approaches (i.e. ring tests on selected crop models) and on common experimental protocols (i.e. statistical robustness) are the keys for determining the worldwide acceptability of agro-homeopathy as a sustainable agro-technique. Statement of conflict of interest Authors declare there is no conflict of interest. Statement of financial support Authors declare that this study received no funding. Bibliography 1. Kolisko L. Physiologischer und physikalischer Nachweis der Wirksamkeit kleinster Entitäten. 1923; Stuttgart, Verlag Der Kommende Tag AG. 2. Junker H.. Die Wirkung extremer Potenzverdünnungen auf Organismen. Pflugers Arch ges Phys 1928; 219B, 5/6, 647-672. 3. Jäger T, Scherr C, Shah D, Majewsky V, Betti L, Trebbi G, Bonamin L, Simões-Wüst AP, Wolf U, Simon M, Heusser P, Baumgartner S. Use of homeopathic preparations in experimental studies with abiotically stressed plants. Homeopathy 2011; 100: 275-287 4. Majewsky V, Heuwieser, Shah D, Scherr C, Jaeger Tim, Betti L, Trebbi G, Bonamin L, Klocke P, Baumpartner S. Use of homeopathic preparations in experimental studies with healthy plants. Homeopathy 2009; 98: 228-243. 5. Betti L, Trebbi G, Majewsky V, Scherr C, Shah-Rossi D, Jäger T, Baumgartner S. Use of homeopathic preparations in phytopathological models and in field trials: a critical review. Homeopathy 2009; 98: 244-266.

SCOPE, the Scientific Committee on Problems of the Environment, analyses such problems by means of programmes leading to published reports on the state of knowledge. The meeting reported here was the major British contribution to the SCOPE Programme on the Ecology of Biological Invasions. It is a slightly unusual programme for SCOPE in that the subject is an entirely biological one, and also in that, although most of the problems are caused by invasions induced by man, some can arise as a result of natural extensions of range. Such effects are often acute in ecosystems with a mediterranean climate away from the Mediterranean itself, that is to say in California, South Africa and Australia. These mediterranean zones are in different biogeographical regions, so the organisms native and introduced to them have, in general, no evolutionary experience of each other. Species introduced from one such region to another have frequently spread in semi-natural and natural ecosystems. The SCOPE programme arises from concern about the impact and management of such pests in particular. The preamble to the programme (Anon. 1985) therefore talks about ‘ the introduction of plants, animals and micro-organisms to regions remote from their centres of origin. ’ It goes on to say that the ‘ areas include a wide variety of non-agricultural, non-urban land such as native forests and rangelands, and protected areas like National Parks and Ecological Reserves.’

ABSTRACT In a structured survey of all major chicken-meat producers in Australia, we investigated the antimicrobial resistance (AMR) and genomic characteristics of Campylobacter jejuni (n = 108) and C. coli (n = 96) from cecal samples of chickens at slaughter (n = 200). The majority of the C. jejuni (63%) and C. coli (86.5%) samples were susceptible to all antimicrobials. Fluoroquinolone resistance was detected among both C. jejuni (14.8%) and C. coli (5.2%), although this only included three sequence types (STs) and one ST, respectively. Multidrug resistance among strains of C. jejuni (0.9%) and C. coli (4.1%) was rare, and fluoroquinolone resistance, when present, was never accompanied by resistance to any other agent. Comparative genome analysis demonstrated that Australian isolates were found dispersed on different branches/clusters within the international collection. The major fluoroquinolone-resistant STs of C. jejuni (ST7323, ST2083, and ST2343) and C. coli (ST860) present in Australian chickens were similar to those of international isolates and have been reported previously in humans and animals overseas. The detection of a subpopulation of Campylobacter isolates exclusively resistant to fluoroquinolone was unexpected since most critically important antimicrobials such as fluoroquinolones are excluded from use in Australian livestock. A number of factors, including the low level of resistance to other antimicrobials, the absence of fluoroquinolone use, the adoption of measures for preventing spread of contagion between flocks, and particularly the genomic identities of isolates, all point to humans, pest species, or wild birds as being the most plausible source of organisms. This study also demonstrates the need for vigilance in the form of surveillance for AMR based on robust sampling to manage AMR risks in the food chain. IMPORTANCE Campylobacter is one of the most common causes of gastroenteritis in humans, with infections frequently resulting from exposure to undercooked poultry products. Although human illness is typically self-limiting, a minority of cases do require antimicrobial therapy. Ensuring that Campylobacter originating from meat chickens does not acquire resistance to fluoroquinolones is therefore a valuable outcome for public health. Australia has never legalized the use of fluoroquinolones in commercial chickens and until now fluoroquinolone-resistant Campylobacter has not been detected in the Australian poultry. This structured survey of meat chickens derived from all major Australian producers describes the unexpected emergence of fluoroquinolone resistance in Campylobacter jejuni and C. coli. Genetic characterization suggests that these isolates may have evolved outside the Australian poultry sector and were introduced into poultry by humans, pest species, or wild birds. The findings dramatically underline the critical role of biosecurity in the overall fight against antimicrobial resistance.

Rhizobia are soil bacteria capable of forming N2-fixing symbioses with legumes, with highly effective strains often selected in agriculture as inoculants to maximize symbiotic N2 fixation. When rhizobia in the genus Mesorhizobium have been introduced with exotic legumes into farming systems, horizontal transfer of symbiosis Integrative and Conjugative Elements (ICEs) from the inoculant strain to soil bacteria has resulted in the evolution of ineffective N2-fixing rhizobia that are competitive for nodulation with the target legume. In Australia, Cicer arietinum (chickpea) has been inoculated since the 1970’s with Mesorhizobium ciceri sv. ciceri CC1192, a highly effective strain from Israel. Although the full genome sequence of this organism is available, little is known about the mobility of its symbiosis genes and the diversity of cultivated C. arietinum-nodulating organisms. Here, we show the CC1192 genome harbors a 419-kb symbiosis ICE (ICEMcSym1192) and a 648-kb repABC-type plasmid pMC1192 carrying putative fix genes. We sequenced the genomes of 11 C. arietinum nodule isolates from a field site exclusively inoculated with CC1192 and showed they were diverse unrelated Mesorhizobium carrying ICEMcSym1192, indicating they had acquired the ICE by environmental transfer. No exconjugants harboured pMc1192 and the plasmid was not essential for N2 fixation in CC1192. Laboratory conjugation experiments confirmed ICEMcSym1192 is mobile, integrating site-specifically within the 3’ end of one of the four ser-tRNA genes in the R7ANS recipient genome. Strikingly, all ICEMcSym1192 exconjugants were as efficient at fixing N2 with C. arietinum as CC1192, demonstrating ICE transfer does not necessarily yield ineffective microsymbionts as previously observed.Importance Symbiotic N2 fixation is a key component of sustainable agriculture and in many parts of the world legumes are inoculated with highly efficient strains of rhizobia to maximise fixed N2 inputs into farming systems. Symbiosis genes for Mesorhizobium spp. are often encoded chromosomally within mobile gene clusters called Integrative and Conjugative Elements or ICEs. In Australia, where all agricultural legumes and their rhizobia are exotic, horizontal transfer of ICEs from inoculant Mesorhizobium strains to native rhizobia has led to the evolution of inefficient strains that outcompete the original inoculant, with the potential to render it ineffective. However, the commercial inoculant strain for Cicer arietinum (chickpea), M. ciceri CC1192, has a mobile symbiosis ICE (ICEMcSym1192) which can support high rates of N2 fixation following either environmental or laboratory transfer into diverse Mesorhizobium backgrounds, demonstrating ICE transfer does not necessarily yield ineffective microsymbionts as previously observed.

Summary The Asian longhorned tick (ALHT) ( Haemaphysalis longicornis Neumann, 1901) is a vector for many pathogenic micro-organisms of veterinary and public health importance. The ALHT is native to east Asia but was accidentally introduced into New Zealand and Australia in the early 1990s/late 1880s, respectively. It is now well established in these countries and it is a competent vector for Theileria orientalis Ikeda, which can cause significant livestock morbidity and mortality. Recently, this tick was introduced into North America. It was first formally detected on sheep in New Jersey in 2017, although it is now thought that it may have been present in the USA since 2010 but was initially misidentified as the morphologically similar rabbit tick H. leporispalustris (Packard, 1869). As of August 2022, this tick has been reported in 17 US eastern states. In this case study, we illustrate how we engaged an interdisciplinary team to examine the habitat suitability for the ALHT across North America under current and future climatic conditions. Using a transdisciplinary approach, we also considered potential routes of entry into Canada from the north-eastern states of the USA. Using published and current surveillance data, we generated habitat suitability models to predict the most likely areas in North America for the geographic expansion of the ALHT. Following discussions with climate change experts and entomologists, models were also developed to examine future habitat suitability under selected climate change scenarios. Interviews with experts and government colleagues suggest that likely routes of entry into Canada include cross-border movement of infested terrestrial wildlife and livestock, dog importations and the movement of migratory birds. Enhanced tick surveillance, including the use of citizen science, is required to gain a better understanding of how this tick might spread in the future. The logo of T C C dash 3 W. A map is depicted and the bottom-left part of the map is highlighted. The logo of the University of Calgary Faculty of Veterinary Medicine. The logo of the Canadian Animal Health Surveillance System or C A H S S.

The occurrence of exotic marine fishes introduced to the Australian region is reviewed, with particular emphasis being placed on those species which might have significant ecological impact on endemic biota and/or their habitats or on fisheries in this region. All marine and estuarine fishes known or thought to have been introduced. either deliberately or accidentally, are considered, together with their probable areas of origin, probable dates and means of introduction, and their present areas of occurrence. General comments on relevant aspects of their biology and status, as appropriate, are made. Those species which might have significant ecological impacts are discussed in more detail, probable pathways for their introduction (particularly ships' ballast water) discussed, and some recommendations made regarding their future control.

The occurence of exotic marine invertebrates and algae in the Australian region is reviewed, with particular emphasis being placed on those species which might have significant ecological impacts on endemic biota and/or their habitats or on fisheries in this region. All marine and estuarine invertebrates and algae known or thought to have been introduced, either deliberately or accidentally, are listed, together with their probable areas of origin, probable dates and means of introduction, their present areas of occurrence, and general comments on relevant aspects of their biology and status, as appropriate. Those species which might have significant ecological impacts are discussed in some detail, probable pathways for their introduction (particularly ships' ballast water) discussed, and some recommendations made regarding their future control.

Abstract A description is provided for Diehliomyces microsporus. Information is included on the infestation of cultivated mushroom beds by the organism that can cause serious economic loss, more often in summer. Some information on cultural and chemical control as well as conservation status is given, along with details of its transmission (spore dispersal), geographical distribution (North America: USA (Delaware, Minnesota, New York, Ohio and Pennsylvania); South America: Brazil (Parana and São Paulo); Asia: China, India (Jammu and Kashmir), Korea, Japan and Taiwan; Australasia: Australia (New South Wales), New Zealand (introduced); and Europe: Great Britain and Netherlands) and hosts (Agaricus bisporus, A. blazei, A. brasiliensis, A. bitorquis and Agaricus sp.).

In preparation for a legal implementation of EU-regulation 1829/2003, the Norwegian Scientific Committee for Food Safety (VKM) has been requested by the Norwegian Environment Agency (former Norwegian Directorate for Nature Management) and the Norwegian Food Safety Authority (NFSA) to conduct final food/feed and environmental risk assessments for all genetically modified organisms (GMOs) and products containing or consisting of GMOs that are authorized in the European Union under Directive 2001/18/EC or Regulation 1829/2003/EC. The request covers scope(s) relevant to the Gene Technology Act. The request does not cover GMOs that VKM already has conducted its final risk assessments on. However, the Agency and NFSA requests VKM to consider whether updates or other changes to earlier submitted assessments are necessary. Four notifications/applications for placing on the market of insect resistant genetically modified maize 1507 from Pioneer HiBreed & Dow AgroSciences (Unique Identifier DAS-Ø15Ø7-1) have been taken into account: Application EFSA/GMO/NL/2004/02 for placing on the market of insect-tolerant genetically modified maize 1507 for food use under Regulation (EC) 1829/2003 Food and food ingredients containing, consisting of or produced from maize 1507 approved since 3 March 2006 (Commission Decision 2006/197/EC) Notification C/NL/00/10 for import and processing use under Part C of Diretive 2001/18/EC. Approved for importation, processing and feed use since 3 November 2005 (Commission Decision 2005/772/EC) Application EFSA/GMO/RX/1507 for renewal of authorisation of existing products of maize 1507 under Regulation (EC) no 1829/2003 Renewing of the authorisation of existing feed products from maize 1507 granted since 17 June 2011 (Commission Decision 2011/365/EC). Notification C/ES/01/01 for cultivation, import, processing and use as any other maize (excluding food uses) under Directive 2001/18/EC on the deliberate release of GMOs into the environment. The application is still pending for authorisation. Genetically modified maize 1507 has previously been assessed as food and feed by the VKM GMO Panel commissioned by the Norwegian Food Safety Authority in connection with the EFSA official hearing of the application EFSA/GMO/NL/2004/02 in 2004 (VKM 2004). Maize 1507 has also been evaluated by the VKM GMO Panel as a component of several stacked GM maize events under Regulation (EC) 1829/2003 (VKM 2005b, 2007a,b, 2008a,b, 2009a,b, 2012a,b,c, 2013 a,b,c,d,e). The food/feed and environmental risk assessment of the GM maize 1507 is based on information provided by the applicant in the notifications C/ES/01/01 and C/NL/00/10 and the applications EFSA/GMO/NL/2004/02 and EFSA/GMO/RX/1507, previous risk assessments performed by the VKM GMO Panel and scientific opinions and comments from EFSA and other member states made available on the EFSA website GMO Extranet. The risk assessment is also based on a risk analysis report of 1507 from the Australia New Zealand Food Authority (FSANZ 2002) and a review and assessment of relevant peer-reviewed scientific literature. The VKM GMO Panel has evaluated maize 1507 with reference to its intended uses in the European Economic Area (EEA), and according to the principles described in the Norwegian Food Act, the Norwegian Gene Technology Act and regulations relating to impact assessment pursuant to the Gene Technology Act, Directive 2001/18/EC on the deliberate release into the environment of genetically modified organisms, and Regulation (EC) No 1829/2003 on genetically modified food and feed. The Norwegian Scientific Committee for Food Safety has also decided to take account of the appropriate principles described in the EFSA guidelines for the risk assessment of GM plants and derived food and feed (EFSA 2011a), the environmental risk assessment of GM plants (EFSA 2010a), selection of comparators for the risk assessment of GM plants (EFSA 2011b) and for the post-market environmental monitoring of GM plants (EFSA 2011c). The scientific risk assessment of maize 1507 include molecular characterisation of the inserted DNA and expression of novel proteins, comparative assessment of agronomic and phenotypic characteristics, nutritional assessments, toxicology and allergenicity, unintended effects on plant fitness, potential for gene transfer, interactions between the GM plant and target and non-target organisms and effects on biogeochemical processes. It is emphasised that the VKM mandate does not include assessments of contribution to sustainable development, societal utility and ethical considerations, according to the Norwegian Gene Technology Act and Regulations relating to impact assessment pursuant to the Gene Technology Act. These considerations are therefore not part of the risk assessment provided by the VKM Panel on Genetically Modified Organisms. The genetically modified maize 1507 has been developed to provide protection against certain lepidopteran target pests, such as the European corn borer (ECB, Ostrinia nubilalis), and some species belonging to the genus Sesamia. The insect resistence is achieved through expression of a synthetic version of the truncated cry1F gene derived from Bacillus thuringiensis subsp. aizawai, a common soil bacterium. Maize 1507 also expresses the phosphinothricin-N-acetyltransferase (pat) gene, from the soil bacterium Streptomyces viridochromogenes. The encoded PAT protein confers tolerance to the herbicidal active substance glufosinate-ammonium. The PAT protein produced by maize 1507 has been used as a selectable marker to facilitate the selection process of transformed plant cells and is not intended for weed management purposes. Since the scope of the notification C/ES/01/01 does not cover the use of glufosinate-ammonium-containing herbicides on maize 1507, potential effects due to the use of such herbicides on maize 1507 are not considered by VKM. Molecular Characterisation: Appropriate analyses of the transgenic DNA insert, its integration site, number of inserts and flanking sequences in the maize genome, have been performed. The results show that only one copy of the insert is present in maize 1507. Homology searches with databases of known toxins and allergens have not indicated any potential production of harmful proteins or polypeptides caused by the genetic modification in maize 1507. Southern blot analyses and segregation studies show that the introduced genes cry1F and pat are stably inherited and expressed over several generations along with the phenotypic characteristics of maize 1507. The VKM GMO Panel considers the molecular characterisation of maize 1507 satisfactory. Comparative Assessment: Comparative analyses of maize 1507 to its non-GM conventional counterpart have been performed during multiple field trials located at representative sites and environments in Chile (1998/99), USA (1999) and in Europe (1999, 2000 and 2002). With the exception of small intermittent variations, no biologically significant differences were found between maize 1507 and the conventional maize. Based on the assessment of available data, the VKM GMO Panel concludes that maize 1507 is compositionally, agronomically and phenotypically equivalent to its conventional counterpart, except for the introduced characteristics, and that its composition fell within the normal ranges of variation observed among non-GM varieties. Food and Feed Safety Assessment: Whole food feeding studies on rats, broilers, pullets, pigs and cattle have not indicated any adverse health effects of maize 1507. These studies also indicate that maize 1507 is nutritionally equivalent to conventional maize. The PAT and Cry1F proteins do not show sequence resemblance to other known toxins or IgE allergens, nor have they been reported to cause IgE mediated allergic reactions. Some studies have however indicated a potential role of Cry-proteins as adjuvants in allergic reactions. Based on current knowledge, the VKM GMO Panel concludes that maize 1507 is nutritionally equivalent to conventional maize varieties. It is unlikely that the PAT and Cry1F proteins will introduce a toxic or allergenic potential in food or feed based on maize 1507 compared to conventional maize. Environmental Risk: There are no reports of the target lepidopteran species attaining pest status on maize in Norway. Since there are no Bt-based insecticides approved for use in Norway, and lepidopteran pests have not been registered in maize, issues related to resistance evolution in target pests are not relevant at present for Norwegian agriculture. There are only a limited number of published scientific studies on the environmental effects of Cry1F protein. Published scientific studies showed that the likelihood of negative effects of Cry1F protein on non-target arthropods that live on or in the vicinity of maize plants is low. Cultivation of maize 1507 is not considered to represent a threat to the prevalence of red-listed species in Norway. Few studies have been published examining potential effects of Cry1F toxin on ecosystems in soil, mineralization, nutrient turnover and soil communities. Some field studies have indicated that root exudates and decaying plant material containing Cry proteins may affect population size and activity of rhizosphere organisms (soil protozoa and microorganisms). Most studies conclude that effects on soil microorganisms and microbial communities are transient and minor compared to effects caused by agronomic and environmental factors. However, data are only available from short term experiments and predictions of potential long term effects are difficult to deduce. The VKM GMO Panel concludes that, although the data on the fate of the Cry1F protein and its potential interactions in soil are limited, the relevant scientific publications analysing the Cry1F protein, together with the relatively broad knowledge about the environmental fate of other Cry1 proteins, do not indicate significant direct effects on the soil environment. Few studies have assessed the impact of Cry proteins on non-target aquatic arthropods and the fate of these proteins in senescent and decaying maize detritus in aquatic environments, and no specific lower-tier studies, assessing the impact of the Cry1F protein on non-target aquatic arthropods have been reported in the scientific literature so far. However, exposure of non-target organisms to Cry proteins in aquatic ecosystems is likely to be very low, and potential exposure of Bt toxins to nontarget organisms in aquatic ecosystems in Norway is considered to be negligible. Maize is the only representative of the genus Zea in Europe, and there are no cross-compatible wild or weedy relatives outside cultivation with which maize can hybridise and form backcross progeny. Vertical gene transfer in maize therefore depends on cross-pollination with other conventional or organic maize varieties. In addition, unintended admixture of genetically modified material in seeds represents a possible way for gene flow between different crop cultivations. The risk of pollen flow from maize volunteers is negligible under Norwegian growing conditions. Overall Conclusion: Based on current knowledge, the VKM GMO Panel concludes that maize 1507 is nutritionally equivalent to conventional maize varieties. It is unlikely that the Cry1 and PAT proteins will introduce a toxic or allergenic potential in food or feed derived from maize 1507 compared to conventional maize. The VKM GMO Panel likewise concludes that cultivation of maize 1507 is unlikely to have any adverse effect on the environment and agriculture in Norway.

Abstract Dental caries is a microbial disease and the most common chronic health condition, affecting nearly 3.5 billion people worldwide. In this study, we used a multi-omics approach to characterize the supragingival plaque microbiome of 91 Australian children, generating 658 bacterial and 189 viral metagenome assembled genomes with transcriptional profiling and gene-expression network analysis. We developed a reproducible pipeline for clustering sample-specific genomes to integrate metagenomics and metatranscriptomics analysis regardless of biosample overlap. We introduce novel feature engineering and compositionally-aware ensemble network frameworks while demonstrating their utility for investigating regime shifts associated with caries dysbiosis. These methods can be applied when differential abundance modeling does not capture statistical enrichments or the results from such analysis are not adequate for providing deeper insight into disease. We identified which organisms and metabolic pathways were central in a coexpression network as well as how these networks were rewired between caries and caries-free phenotypes. Our findings provide evidence of a core bacterial microbiome that was transcriptionally active in the supragingival plaque of all participants regardless of phenotype, but also show highly diagnostic changes in the ways that organisms interact. Specifically, many organisms exhibit high connectedness with central carbon metabolism to Cardiobacterium and this shift serves a bridge between phenotypes. Our evidence supports the hypothesis that caries is a multifactorial ecological disease.

AbstractCylindrospermopsin (CYN) is a cytotoxin produced by several species of cyanobacteria, which occur all over the world. It was demonstrated that CYN has a wide spectrum of biological activity in animal cells, involving hepatotoxicity, genotoxicity, cytotoxicity and carcinogenic potential, and is considered as one of the factors that caused human poisoning in Palm Island (Australia) and in Caruaru (Brazil). This compound may be introduced into organism by several ways, including consumption of water, fishes and seafood as well as accidental swallowing or aerosol spray inhalation during recreational using of reservoirs covered by cyanobacterial blooms. The information about the CYN impact on environment and its degradation processes under natural conditions is scant. Taking this into consideration CYN should be regarded as a potential threat to human health and life. This review presents physicochemical characteristic and biological activity of CYN, occurrence in freshwaters and its sensitivity to the influence of some environmental factors.

Gene technology regulators receive applications seeking permission for the environmental release of genetically modified (GM) plants, many of which possess beneficial traits such as improved production, enhanced nutrition and resistance to drought, pests and diseases. The regulators must assess the risks to human and animal health and to the environment from releasing these GM plants. One such consideration, of many, is the likelihood and potential consequence of the introduced or modified DNA being transferred to other organisms, including people. While such gene transfer is most likely to occur to sexually compatible relatives (vertical gene transfer), horizontal gene transfer (HGT), which is the acquisition of genetic material that has not been inherited from a parent, is also a possibility considered during these assessments. Advances in HGT detection, aided by next generation sequencing, have demonstrated that HGT occurrence may have been previously underestimated. In this review, we provide updated evidence on the likelihood, factors and the barriers for the introduced or modified DNA in GM plants to be horizontally transferred into a variety of recipients. We present the legislation and frameworks the Australian Gene Technology Regulator adheres to with respect to the consideration of risks posed by HGT. Such a perspective may generally be applicable to regulators in other jurisdictions as well as to commercial and research organisations who develop GM plants.

Abstract A description is provided for Arthrocladiella mougeotii. Information is included on the disease caused by the organism, its transmission, geographical distribution, and hosts. DISEASE: Powdery mildew of Lycium species only. The mycelium, conidiophores, conidia and ascomata form first white, then dirty-grey patches on damaged green parts of the host. Infected parts are deformed slightly and, in cases of high infection, plants can lose their ornamental qualities. Damaged leaves can fall prematurely. HOSTS: Lycium barbarum (= L. europaeum), L. chinense, L. dasystemum, L. halimifolium, L. ovatum, L. potaninii, L. rhombifolium, L. ruthenicum. [Type host - Lycium barbarum] GEOGRAPHICAL DISTRIBUTION: Africa: Canary Islands. Asia (temperate areas only): Armenia, Azerbaijan, China, Republic of Georgia, Israel, Japan, Kazakhstan, Kirghizistan, Korea, Russia (Russian far east), Tadzhikistan, Taiwan, Turkey, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan. Australasia: New Zealand (introduced). Europe: Austria, Belgium, Bulgaria, Czech Republic, Estonia, France, Germany, Hungary, Italy, Netherlands, Norway, Poland, Rumania, Slovakia, Sweden, Switzerland, UK, Ukraine (southern), former Yugoslavia. North America: USA (introduced). TRANSMISSION: By wind-dispersed conidia. The rôle of ascospores in disease transmission is unknown, although it has been supposed that they can cause the initial stage of the disease.

Abstract A description is provided for Microsphaera sparsa. Information is included on the disease caused by the organism, its transmission, geographical distribution, and hosts. DISEASE: Powdery mildew of Viburnum species only. Mycelium, conidiophores and conidia can develop visibly only on the upper surface of leaves, but damage is usually not substantial and the ornamental quality of plants is rarely significantly harmed. HOSTS: Viburnum acerifolium, V. affine, V. alnifolium, V. cassinoides, V. cotinifolium, V. dentatum, V. dilatatum, V. erosum, V. foetidum, V. lentago, V. opulus, V. opulus var. americanum (V. trilobum), V. phlebotrichum, V. plicatum, V. prunifolium, V. pubescens, V. rafinesquianum, V. rufidulum, V. sargentii, V. scabrellum, V. sieboldii, V. trilobum, V. tinus, V. wrightii. [Type host - Viburnum lentago] GEOGRAPHICAL DISTRIBUTION: Asia (temperate areas only): China, Republic of Georgia, India, Japan, Kazakhstan, Russia (Altai, Russian far east, North Osetia, western Siberia). Australasia: New Zealand (introduced). Europe: Austria, Belgium, Bulgaria, Czech Republic, Denmark, Estonia, Finland, France, Germany, Great Britain, Hungary, Italy, Latvia, Lithuania, Netherlands, Norway, Poland, Rumania, Russia (European part), Slovakia, Sweden, Switzerland, Turkey (European part), Ukraine, former Yugoslavia. North America: Canada, USA. TRANSMISSION: By wind-dispersed conidia. The rôle of ascospores in disease transmission is unknown, although it has been supposed that they can cause the initial stage of the disease.

AbstractThe Asian brush-clawed shore crab Hemigrapsus takanoi was introduced to the northern Wadden Sea (southeastern North Sea) in 2009 and now represents one of the most abundant brachyuran crab species. Abundance studies revealed an increase of mean crab densities on mixed reefs of native blue mussels (Mytilus edulis) and Pacific oysters (Magallana gigas) from 18 individuals m−2 in 2011 to 216 individuals m−2 in 2020. Despite its current high densities only little is known about the feeding habits of H. takanoi, its effects on prey populations and on the associated community in the newly invaded habitat. We summarize results of individual field and laboratory experiments that were conducted to assess feeding habits and consumption effects caused by Asian brush-clawed shore crabs and, additionally, compare the feeding ecology of H. takanoi with the one of the native shore crab Carcinus maenas. Field experiments manipulating crab densities revealed that both crab species affected the recruitment success of blue mussels, Pacific oysters and Australian barnacles (Austrominius modestus) with highest number of recruits at crab exclusion. However, endobenthic polychaetes within the reefs were differently affected. Only the native C. maenas caused a significant reduction in polychaete densities, whereas the introduced H. takanoi had no effect. Additional comparative laboratory studies revealed that single C. maenas consume more juvenile blue mussels than Asian brush-clawed shore crabs of the same size class. When offering amphipods as a mobile prey species, we found the same pattern with higher consumption rates by C. maenas than by H. takanoi. For Asian but not for native shore crabs, we detected a sex-dependent feeding behavior with male H. takanoi preferring blue mussels, while females consumed more amphipods. Considering mean crab densities and feeding behavior, our results suggest that despite lower consumption rates of single crabs, Asian brush-clawed shore crabs can cause stronger impacts on prey organisms than the native C. maenas, because H. takanoi exceeds their densities manifold. A strong impact of the invader on prey populations is supported by low amphipod occurrence at sites where H. takanoi density is high in the study area. Thus, the introduced Asian brush-clawed shore crab is an additional consumer with significant effects on the associated community of mixed reefs of mussels and oysters in the Wadden Sea.

Ocean warming (OW) and acidification (OA) affects nearly all aspects of marine organism physiology and it is important to consider both stressors when predicting responses to climate change. We investigated the effects of long-term exposure to OW and OA on the physiology of adults of the sea urchin, Heliocidaris erythrogramma, a species resident in the southeast Australia warming hotspot. The urchins were slowly introduced to stressor conditions in the laboratory over a 7-week adjustment period to three temperature (ambient, +2°C, +3°C) and two pH (ambient: pHT 8.0; −0.4 units: pHT 7.6) treatments. They were then maintained in a natural pattern of seasonal temperature and photoperiod change, and fixed pH, for 22 weeks. Survival was monitored through week 22 and metabolic rate was measured at 4 and 12 weeks of acclimation, feeding rate and ammonia excretion rate at 12 weeks and assimilation efficiency at 13 weeks. Acclimation to +3°C was deleterious regardless of pH. Mortality from week 6 indicated that recent marine heatwaves are likely to have been deleterious to this species. Acclimation to +2°C did not affect survival. Increased temperature decreased feeding and increased excretion rates, with no effect of acidification. While metabolic rate increased additively with temperature and low pH at week 4, there was no difference between treatments at week 12, indicating physiological acclimation in surviving urchins to stressful conditions. Regardless of treatment, H. erythrogramma had a net positive energy budget indicating that the responses were not due to energy limitation. To test for the effect of parental acclimation on offspring responses, the offspring of acclimated urchins were reared to the juvenile stage in OW and OA conditions. Parental acclimation to warming, but not acidification altered juvenile physiology with an increase in metabolic rate. Our results show that incorporation of gradual seasonal environmental change in long-term acclimation can influence outcomes, an important consideration in predicting the consequences of changing climate for marine species.

Observational records of fungi by citizen scientists have mushroomed over the last three decades, especially those submitted via on-line platforms, increasingly accompanied by images. For example, Research Grade observations of Fungi in iNaturalist have increased from just over 5,000 for 2010 to more than 400,000 for 2020, with annual rates of increase of more than 60% in recent years. A feature of fungi records on platforms such as iNaturalist and Mushroom Observer is that the identification of numerous images remains unconfirmed. Of the more than 4 million observations of fungi in iNaturalist, more than 70% are not confirmed as Research Grade, either because the identification is not to species, or because the minimum number of confirming identifications has not been reached. Images are unidentified due to several factors, including that characters necessary for identification are not visible. This aside, many field images are of species of fungi whose identification is challenging, due to subtle macroscopic distinguishing features or because microscopic or DNA characters are required for accurate identification. Even among identified records, misidentifications are common among both observational and herbarium records, due to misapplication of names from one geographic area to another and numerous undescribed species (coupled with the tendency for naive observers to over-identify their observations). One strategy to deal with high under- or mis-identification rates is the use of target species, which are species selected and presented as readily identifiable. Given that citizen science platforms have wide appeal, and many users do not have expert knowledge of fungi, target species make initial engagement more satisfying by facilitating the identification of at least some observations, by both the observer and subsequent identifiers. Target species selection can be based on a range of factors. From the observer point of view, species that are common and widespread provide the advantage that the observer has a reasonable chance of encountering some species on any excursion. Selection of species can be further stratified by habits, hosts and substrates. Diversity of morphological and trophic groups among targets serves to introduce recorders to major groups and educates about the way fungi interact with their environment and other organisms. The most important aspect of target species is identifiability. Expert knowledge of species that could be encountered must be used to select species. Monographs of fungi tend to focus on differentiation from taxonomically related species, often using microscopic characters. In providing information on target species, it is vital to provide comparisons to look-a-like (macroscopically similar) species, whether related or not and whether formally described or not. In Australia, Fungimap commenced in 1995 as a fungi mapping scheme. Initially eight target species were selected, growing to 200 species. Key elements in the success of the scheme included: (1) a regular Fungimap Newsletter, (2) an illustrated guide to the first 100 target species (Fungi Down Under, published in 2005) in which inclusion of maps for all species was a spur for observers to fill and extend distributions, which at that stage were often patchy, (3) a small team of identifiers, who checked incoming records, and (4) training opportunities via workshops and forays. Fungimap records were initially handled in-house in a purpose-built database that lacked a web interface, but could handle input from spreadhseets. Records are regularly supplied to the Atlas of Living Australia and thence to the Global Biodiversity Information Facility. Observers are now encouraged to use the Fungimap Australia project in iNaturalist. Use of target species significantly increased the number and geographic spread of records. For example, prior to 1990, the highly distinctive Pixie’s Parasol (Mycena interrupta) was known from few specimens (17 unique databased specimens). Inclusion as a target species has yielded more than 2,300 observation records, specifically contributed to Fungimap. There are more than 3,400 observations of the species, of which 99% were contributed since 1990. These data allow presentation of mature distribution maps in contexts such as the Australian State of the Environment report for 2016. In relation to conservation threat assessments, data on target species can support apparent rarity by comparison of records of rare species against those of more common species that are in the same list. The assessment of Tea-tree Fingers (Hypocreopsis amplectens) as Critically Endangered on the IUCN Red List of Threatened Species was supported by the fact that this species had been a Fungimap target since 1999, but at the time of the assessment in 2019 was known only from four sites. Challenges in the use of target species include: (1) adjusting lists to incorporate new taxonomies without confusing recorders, (2) dealing with species that are not formally described, such as those with "field" names, (3) communicating with recorders not engaged with local networks that species belong to target sets, and (4) growing target species lists to maintain engagement. Nevertheless, target species are useful for observers and identifiers, and expert categorisation of the “identifiability” of species could be a useful feature to add to aggregated data sets, for use as a potential filter.

A same-but-different dichotomy has recently been encapsulated within the US Food and Drug Administration’s ill-defined concept of “substantial equivalence” (USFDA, FDA). By invoking this concept the genetically modified organism (GMO) industry has escaped the rigors of safety testing that might otherwise apply. The curious concept of “substantial equivalence” grants a presumption of safety to GMO food. This presumption has yet to be earned, and has been used to constrain labelling of both GMO and non-GMO food. It is an idea that well serves corporatism. It enables the claim of difference to secure patent protection, while upholding the contrary claim of sameness to avoid labelling and safety scrutiny. It offers the best of both worlds for corporate food entrepreneurs, and delivers the worst of both worlds to consumers. The term “substantial equivalence” has established its currency within the GMO discourse. As the opportunities for patenting food technologies expand, the GMO recruitment of this concept will likely be a dress rehearsal for the developing debates on the labelling and testing of other techno-foods – including nano-foods and clone-foods. “Substantial Equivalence” “Are the Seven Commandments the same as they used to be, Benjamin?” asks Clover in George Orwell’s “Animal Farm”. By way of response, Benjamin “read out to her what was written on the wall. There was nothing there now except a single Commandment. It ran: ALL ANIMALS ARE EQUAL BUT SOME ANIMALS ARE MORE EQUAL THAN OTHERS”. After this reductionist revelation, further novel and curious events at Manor Farm, “did not seem strange” (Orwell, ch. X). Equality is a concept at the very core of mathematics, but beyond the domain of logic, equality becomes a hotly contested notion – and the domain of food is no exception. A novel food has a regulatory advantage if it can claim to be the same as an established food – a food that has proven its worth over centuries, perhaps even millennia – and thus does not trigger new, perhaps costly and onerous, testing, compliance, and even new and burdensome regulations. On the other hand, such a novel food has an intellectual property (IP) advantage only in terms of its difference. And thus there is an entrenched dissonance for newly technologised foods, between claiming sameness, and claiming difference. The same/different dilemma is erased, so some would have it, by appeal to the curious new dualist doctrine of “substantial equivalence” whereby sameness and difference are claimed simultaneously, thereby creating a win/win for corporatism, and a loss/loss for consumerism. This ground has been pioneered, and to some extent conquered, by the GMO industry. The conquest has ramifications for other cryptic food technologies, that is technologies that are invisible to the consumer and that are not evident to the consumer other than via labelling. Cryptic technologies pertaining to food include GMOs, pesticides, hormone treatments, irradiation and, most recently, manufactured nano-particles introduced into the food production and delivery stream. Genetic modification of plants was reported as early as 1984 by Horsch et al. The case of Diamond v. Chakrabarty resulted in a US Supreme Court decision that upheld the prior decision of the US Court of Customs and Patent Appeal that “the fact that micro-organisms are alive is without legal significance for purposes of the patent law”, and ruled that the “respondent’s micro-organism plainly qualifies as patentable subject matter”. This was a majority decision of nine judges, with four judges dissenting (Burger). It was this Chakrabarty judgement that has seriously opened the Pandora’s box of GMOs because patenting rights makes GMOs an attractive corporate proposition by offering potentially unique monopoly rights over food. The rear guard action against GMOs has most often focussed on health repercussions (Smith, Genetic), food security issues, and also the potential for corporate malfeasance to hide behind a cloak of secrecy citing commercial confidentiality (Smith, Seeds). Others have tilted at the foundational plank on which the economics of the GMO industry sits: “I suggest that the main concern is that we do not want a single molecule of anything we eat to contribute to, or be patented and owned by, a reckless, ruthless chemical organisation” (Grist 22). The GMO industry exhibits bipolar behaviour, invoking the concept of “substantial difference” to claim patent rights by way of “novelty”, and then claiming “substantial equivalence” when dealing with other regulatory authorities including food, drug and pesticide agencies; a case of “having their cake and eating it too” (Engdahl 8). This is a clever slight-of-rhetoric, laying claim to the best of both worlds for corporations, and the worst of both worlds for consumers. Corporations achieve patent protection and no concomitant specific regulatory oversight; while consumers pay the cost of patent monopolization, and are not necessarily apprised, by way of labelling or otherwise, that they are purchasing and eating GMOs, and thereby financing the GMO industry. The lemma of “substantial equivalence” does not bear close scrutiny. It is a fuzzy concept that lacks a tight testable definition. It is exactly this fuzziness that allows lots of wriggle room to keep GMOs out of rigorous testing regimes. Millstone et al. argue that “substantial equivalence is a pseudo-scientific concept because it is a commercial and political judgement masquerading as if it is scientific. It is moreover, inherently anti-scientific because it was created primarily to provide an excuse for not requiring biochemical or toxicological tests. It therefore serves to discourage and inhibit informative scientific research” (526). “Substantial equivalence” grants GMOs the benefit of the doubt regarding safety, and thereby leaves unexamined the ramifications for human consumer health, for farm labourer and food-processor health, for the welfare of farm animals fed a diet of GMO grain, and for the well-being of the ecosystem, both in general and in its particularities. “Substantial equivalence” was introduced into the food discourse by an Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) report: “safety evaluation of foods derived by modern biotechnology: concepts and principles”. It is from this document that the ongoing mantra of assumed safety of GMOs derives: “modern biotechnology … does not inherently lead to foods that are less safe … . Therefore evaluation of foods and food components obtained from organisms developed by the application of the newer techniques does not necessitate a fundamental change in established principles, nor does it require a different standard of safety” (OECD, “Safety” 10). This was at the time, and remains, an act of faith, a pro-corporatist and a post-cautionary approach. The OECD motto reveals where their priorities lean: “for a better world economy” (OECD, “Better”). The term “substantial equivalence” was preceded by the 1992 USFDA concept of “substantial similarity” (Levidow, Murphy and Carr) and was adopted from a prior usage by the US Food and Drug Agency (USFDA) where it was used pertaining to medical devices (Miller). Even GMO proponents accept that “Substantial equivalence is not intended to be a scientific formulation; it is a conceptual tool for food producers and government regulators” (Miller 1043). And there’s the rub – there is no scientific definition of “substantial equivalence”, no scientific test of proof of concept, and nor is there likely to be, since this is a ‘spinmeister’ term. And yet this is the cornerstone on which rests the presumption of safety of GMOs. Absence of evidence is taken to be evidence of absence. History suggests that this is a fraught presumption. By way of contrast, the patenting of GMOs depends on the antithesis of assumed ‘sameness’. Patenting rests on proven, scrutinised, challengeable and robust tests of difference and novelty. Lightfoot et al. report that transgenic plants exhibit “unexpected changes [that] challenge the usual assumptions of GMO equivalence and suggest genomic, proteomic and metanomic characterization of transgenics is advisable” (1). GMO Milk and Contested Labelling Pesticide company Monsanto markets the genetically engineered hormone rBST (recombinant Bovine Somatotropin; also known as: rbST; rBGH, recombinant Bovine Growth Hormone; and the brand name Prosilac) to dairy farmers who inject it into their cows to increase milk production. This product is not approved for use in many jurisdictions, including Europe, Australia, New Zealand, Canada and Japan. Even Monsanto accepts that rBST leads to mastitis (inflammation and pus in the udder) and other “cow health problems”, however, it maintains that “these problems did not occur at rates that would prohibit the use of Prosilac” (Monsanto). A European Union study identified an extensive list of health concerns of rBST use (European Commission). The US Dairy Export Council however entertain no doubt. In their background document they ask “is milk from cows treated with rBST safe?” and answer “Absolutely” (USDEC). Meanwhile, Monsanto’s website raises and answers the question: “Is the milk from cows treated with rbST any different from milk from untreated cows? No” (Monsanto). Injecting cows with genetically modified hormones to boost their milk production remains a contested practice, banned in many countries. It is the claimed equivalence that has kept consumers of US dairy products in the dark, shielded rBST dairy farmers from having to declare that their milk production is GMO-enhanced, and has inhibited non-GMO producers from declaring their milk as non-GMO, non rBST, or not hormone enhanced. This is a battle that has simmered, and sometimes raged, for a decade in the US. Finally there is a modest victory for consumers: the Pennsylvania Department of Agriculture (PDA) requires all labels used on milk products to be approved in advance by the department. The standard issued in October 2007 (PDA, “Standards”) signalled to producers that any milk labels claiming rBST-free status would be rejected. This advice was rescinded in January 2008 with new, specific, department-approved textual constructions allowed, and ensuring that any “no rBST” style claim was paired with a PDA-prescribed disclaimer (PDA, “Revised Standards”). However, parsimonious labelling is prohibited: No labeling may contain references such as ‘No Hormones’, ‘Hormone Free’, ‘Free of Hormones’, ‘No BST’, ‘Free of BST’, ‘BST Free’,’No added BST’, or any statement which indicates, implies or could be construed to mean that no natural bovine somatotropin (BST) or synthetic bovine somatotropin (rBST) are contained in or added to the product. (PDA, “Revised Standards” 3) Difference claims are prohibited: In no instance shall any label state or imply that milk from cows not treated with recombinant bovine somatotropin (rBST, rbST, RBST or rbst) differs in composition from milk or products made with milk from treated cows, or that rBST is not contained in or added to the product. If a product is represented as, or intended to be represented to consumers as, containing or produced from milk from cows not treated with rBST any labeling information must convey only a difference in farming practices or dairy herd management methods. (PDA, “Revised Standards” 3) The PDA-approved labelling text for non-GMO dairy farmers is specified as follows: ‘From cows not treated with rBST. No significant difference has been shown between milk derived from rBST-treated and non-rBST-treated cows’ or a substantial equivalent. Hereinafter, the first sentence shall be referred to as the ‘Claim’, and the second sentence shall be referred to as the ‘Disclaimer’. (PDA, “Revised Standards” 4) It is onto the non-GMO dairy farmer alone, that the costs of compliance fall. These costs include label preparation and approval, proving non-usage of GMOs, and of creating and maintaining an audit trail. In nearby Ohio a similar consumer versus corporatist pantomime is playing out. This time with the Ohio Department of Agriculture (ODA) calling the shots, and again serving the GMO industry. The ODA prescribed text allowed to non-GMO dairy farmers is “from cows not supplemented with rbST” and this is to be conjoined with the mandatory disclaimer “no significant difference has been shown between milk derived from rbST-supplemented and non-rbST supplemented cows” (Curet). These are “emergency rules”: they apply for 90 days, and are proposed as permanent. Once again, the onus is on the non-GMO dairy farmers to document and prove their claims. GMO dairy farmers face no such governmental requirements, including no disclosure requirement, and thus an asymmetric regulatory impost is placed on the non-GMO farmer which opens up new opportunities for administrative demands and technocratic harassment. Levidow et al. argue, somewhat Eurocentrically, that from its 1990s adoption “as the basis for a harmonized science-based approach to risk assessment” (26) the concept of “substantial equivalence” has “been recast in at least three ways” (58). It is true that the GMO debate has evolved differently in the US and Europe, and with other jurisdictions usually adopting intermediate positions, yet the concept persists. Levidow et al. nominate their three recastings as: firstly an “implicit redefinition” by the appending of “extra phrases in official documents”; secondly, “it has been reinterpreted, as risk assessment processes have … required more evidence of safety than before, especially in Europe”; and thirdly, “it has been demoted in the European Union regulatory procedures so that it can no longer be used to justify the claim that a risk assessment is unnecessary” (58). Romeis et al. have proposed a decision tree approach to GMO risks based on cascading tiers of risk assessment. However what remains is that the defects of the concept of “substantial equivalence” persist. Schauzu identified that: such decisions are a matter of “opinion”; that there is “no clear definition of the term ‘substantial’”; that because genetic modification “is aimed at introducing new traits into organisms, the result will always be a different combination of genes and proteins”; and that “there is no general checklist that could be followed by those who are responsible for allowing a product to be placed on the market” (2). Benchmark for Further Food Novelties? The discourse, contestation, and debate about “substantial equivalence” have largely focussed on the introduction of GMOs into food production processes. GM can best be regarded as the test case, and proof of concept, for establishing “substantial equivalence” as a benchmark for evaluating new and forthcoming food technologies. This is of concern, because the concept of “substantial equivalence” is scientific hokum, and yet its persistence, even entrenchment, within regulatory agencies may be a harbinger of forthcoming same-but-different debates for nanotechnology and other future bioengineering. The appeal of “substantial equivalence” has been a brake on the creation of GMO-specific regulations and on rigorous GMO testing. The food nanotechnology industry can be expected to look to the precedent of the GMO debate to head off specific nano-regulations and nano-testing. As cloning becomes economically viable, then this may be another wave of food innovation that muddies the regulatory waters with the confused – and ultimately self-contradictory – concept of “substantial equivalence”. Nanotechnology engineers particles in the size range 1 to 100 nanometres – a nanometre is one billionth of a metre. This is interesting for manufacturers because at this size chemicals behave differently, or as the Australian Office of Nanotechnology expresses it, “new functionalities are obtained” (AON). Globally, government expenditure on nanotechnology research reached US$4.6 billion in 2006 (Roco 3.12). While there are now many patents (ETC Group; Roco), regulation specific to nanoparticles is lacking (Bowman and Hodge; Miller and Senjen). The USFDA advises that nano-manufacturers “must show a reasonable assurance of safety … or substantial equivalence” (FDA). A recent inventory of nano-products already on the market identified 580 products. Of these 11.4% were categorised as “Food and Beverage” (WWICS). This is at a time when public confidence in regulatory bodies is declining (HRA). In an Australian consumer survey on nanotechnology, 65% of respondents indicated they were concerned about “unknown and long term side effects”, and 71% agreed that it is important “to know if products are made with nanotechnology” (MARS 22). Cloned animals are currently more expensive to produce than traditional animal progeny. In the course of 678 pages, the USFDA Animal Cloning: A Draft Risk Assessment has not a single mention of “substantial equivalence”. However the Federation of Animal Science Societies (FASS) in its single page “Statement in Support of USFDA’s Risk Assessment Conclusion That Food from Cloned Animals Is Safe for Human Consumption” states that “FASS endorses the use of this comparative evaluation process as the foundation of establishing substantial equivalence of any food being evaluated. It must be emphasized that it is the food product itself that should be the focus of the evaluation rather than the technology used to generate cloned animals” (FASS 1). Contrary to the FASS derogation of the importance of process in food production, for consumers both the process and provenance of production is an important and integral aspect of a food product’s value and identity. Some consumers will legitimately insist that their Kalamata olives are from Greece, or their balsamic vinegar is from Modena. It was the British public’s growing awareness that their sugar was being produced by slave labour that enabled the boycotting of the product, and ultimately the outlawing of slavery (Hochschild). When consumers boycott Nestle, because of past or present marketing practices, or boycott produce of USA because of, for example, US foreign policy or animal welfare concerns, they are distinguishing the food based on the narrative of the food, the production process and/or production context which are a part of the identity of the food. Consumers attribute value to food based on production process and provenance information (Paull). Products produced by slave labour, by child labour, by political prisoners, by means of torture, theft, immoral, unethical or unsustainable practices are different from their alternatives. The process of production is a part of the identity of a product and consumers are increasingly interested in food narrative. It requires vigilance to ensure that these narratives are delivered with the product to the consumer, and are neither lost nor suppressed. Throughout the GM debate, the organic sector has successfully skirted the “substantial equivalence” debate by excluding GMOs from the certified organic food production process. This GMO-exclusion from the organic food stream is the one reprieve available to consumers worldwide who are keen to avoid GMOs in their diet. The organic industry carries the expectation of providing food produced without artificial pesticides and fertilizers, and by extension, without GMOs. Most recently, the Soil Association, the leading organic certifier in the UK, claims to be the first organisation in the world to exclude manufactured nonoparticles from their products (Soil Association). There has been the call that engineered nanoparticles be excluded from organic standards worldwide, given that there is no mandatory safety testing and no compulsory labelling in place (Paull and Lyons). The twisted rhetoric of oxymorons does not make the ideal foundation for policy. Setting food policy on the shifting sands of “substantial equivalence” seems foolhardy when we consider the potentially profound ramifications of globally mass marketing a dysfunctional food. If there is a 2×2 matrix of terms – “substantial equivalence”, substantial difference, insubstantial equivalence, insubstantial difference – while only one corner of this matrix is engaged for food policy, and while the elements remain matters of opinion rather than being testable by science, or by some other regime, then the public is the dupe, and potentially the victim. “Substantial equivalence” has served the GMO corporates well and the public poorly, and this asymmetry is slated to escalate if nano-food and clone-food are also folded into the “substantial equivalence” paradigm. Only in Orwellian Newspeak is war peace, or is same different. It is time to jettison the pseudo-scientific doctrine of “substantial equivalence”, as a convenient oxymoron, and embrace full disclosure of provenance, process and difference, so that consumers are not collateral in a continuing asymmetric knowledge war. References Australian Office of Nanotechnology (AON). 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Photograph by Gonzalo Echeverria (2010)We need to get some broad-based support, to capture the public’s imagination … so we have to offer up scary scenarios, make simplified, dramatic statements and make little mention of any doubts … each of us has to decide what the right balance is between being effective and being honest (Hulme 347). Acclaimed climate scientist, the late Stephen Schneider, made this comment in 1988. Later he regretted it and said that there are ways of using metaphors that can “convey both urgency and uncertainty” (Hulme 347). What Schneider encapsulates here is the great conundrum for those attempting to communicate climate change to the everyday public. How do scientists capture the public’s imagination and convey the desperation they feel about climate change, but do it ethically? If scientific findings are presented carefully, in boring technical jargon that few can understand, then they are unlikely to attract audiences or provide an impetus for behavioural change. “What can move someone to act?” asks communication theorists Susan Moser and Lisa Dilling (37). “If a red light blinks on in a cockpit” asks Donella Meadows, “should the pilot ignore it until in speaks in an unexcited tone? … Is there any way to say [it] sweetly? Patiently? If one did, would anyone pay attention?” (Moser and Dilling 37). In 2010 Tim Flannery was appointed Panasonic Chair in Environmental Sustainability at Macquarie University. His main teaching role remains within the new science communication programme. One of the first things Flannery was emphatic about was acquainting students with Karl Popper and the origin of the scientific method. “There is no truth in science”, he proclaimed in his first lecture to students “only theories, hypotheses and falsifiabilities”. In other words, science’s epistemological limits are framed such that, as Michael Lemonick argues, “a statement that cannot be proven false is generally not considered to be scientific” (n.p., my emphasis). The impetus for the following paper emanates precisely from this issue of scientific uncertainty — more specifically from teaching a course with Tim Flannery called Communicating climate change to a highly motivated group of undergraduate science communication students. I attempt to illuminate how uncertainty is constructed differently by different groups and that the “public” does not necessarily interpret uncertainty in the same way the sciences do. This paper also analyses how doubt has been politicised and operates polemically in media coverage of climate change. As Andrew Gorman-Murray and Gordon Waitt highlight in an earlier issue of M/C Journal that focused on the climate-culture nexus, an understanding of the science alone is not adequate to deal with the cultural change necessary to address the challenges climate change brings (n.p). Far from being redundant in debates around climate change, the humanities have much to offer. Erosion of Trust in Science The objectives of Macquarie’s science communication program are far more ambitious than it can ever hope to achieve. But this is not necessarily a bad thing. The initiative is a response to declining student numbers in maths and science programmes around the country and is designed to address the perceived lack of communication skills in science graduates that the Australian Council of Deans of Science identified in their 2001 report. According to Macquarie Vice Chancellor Steven Schwartz’s blog, a broader, and much more ambitious aim of the program is to “restore public trust in science and scientists in the face of widespread cynicism” (n.p.). In recent times the erosion of public trust in science was exacerbated through the theft of e-mails from East Anglia University’s Climate Research Unit and the so-called “climategate scandal” which ensued. With the illegal publication of the e-mails came claims against the Research Unit that climate experts had been manipulating scientific data to suit a pro-global warming agenda. Three inquiries later, all the scientists involved were cleared of any wrongdoing, however the damage had already been done. To the public, what this scandal revealed was a certain level of scientific hubris around the uncertainties of the science and an unwillingness to explain the nature of these uncertainties. The prevailing notion remained that the experts were keeping information from public scrutiny and not being totally honest with them, which at least in the short term, damaged the scientists’s credibility. Many argued that this signalled a shift in public opinion and media portrayal on the issue of climate change in late 2009. University of Sydney academic, Rod Tiffen, claimed in the Sydney Morning Herald that the climategate scandal was “one of the pivotal moments in changing the politics of climate change” (n.p). In Australia this had profound implications and meant that the bipartisan agreement on an emissions trading scheme (ETS) that had almost been reached, subsequently collapsed with (climate sceptic) Tony Abbott's defeat of (ETS advocate) Malcolm Turnbull to become opposition leader (Tiffen). Not long after the reputation of science received this almighty blow, albeit unfairly, the federal government released a report in February 2010, Inspiring Australia – A national strategy for engagement with the sciences as part of the country’s innovation agenda. The report outlines a commitment from the Australian government and universities around the country to address the challenges of not only communicating science to the broader community but, in the process, renewing public trust and engagement in science. The report states that: in order to achieve a scientifically engaged Australia, it will be necessary to develop a culture where the sciences are recognized as relevant to everyday life … Our science institutions will be expected to share their knowledge and to help realize full social, economic, health and environmental benefits of scientific research and in return win ongoing public support. (xiv-xv) After launching the report, Innovation Minister Kim Carr went so far as to conflate “hope” with “science” and in the process elevate a discourse of technological determinism: “it’s time for all true friends of science to step up and defend its values and achievements” adding that, "when you denigrate science, you destroy hope” (n.p.). Forever gone is our naïve post-war world when scientists were held in such high esteem that they could virtually use humans as guinea pigs to test out new wonder chemicals; such as organochlorines, of which DDT is the most widely known (Carson). Thanks to government-sponsored nuclear testing programs, if you were born in the 1950s, 1960s or early 1970s, your brain carries a permanent nuclear legacy (Flannery, Here On Earth 158). So surely, for the most part, questioning the authority and hubristic tendencies of science is a good thing. And I might add, it’s not just scientists who bear this critical burden, the same scepticism is directed towards journalists, politicians and academics alike – something that many cultural theorists have noted is characteristic of our contemporary postmodern world (Lyotard). So far from destroying hope, as the former Innovation Minister Kim Carr (now Minister for Innovation, Industry, Science and Research) suggests, surely we need to use the criticisms of science as a vehicle upon which to initiate hope and humility. Different Ways of Knowing: Bayesian Beliefs and Matters of Concern At best, [science] produces a robust consensus based on a process of inquiry that allows for continued scrutiny, re-examination, and revision. (Oreskes 370) In an attempt to capitalise on the Macquarie Science Faculty’s expertise in climate science, I convened a course in second semester 2010 called SCOM201 Science, Media, Community: Communicating Climate Change, with invaluable assistance from Penny Wilson, Elaine Kelly and Liz Morgan. Mike Hulme’s provocative text, Why we disagree about climate change: Understanding controversy, inaction and opportunity provided an invaluable framework for the course. Hulme’s book brings other types of knowledge, beyond the scientific, to bear on our attitudes towards climate change. Climate change, he claims, has moved from being just a physical, scientific, and measurable phenomenon to becoming a social and cultural phenomenon. In order to understand the contested nature of climate change we need to acknowledge the dynamic and varied meanings climate has played in different cultures throughout history as well as the role that our own subjective attitudes and judgements play. Climate change has become a battleground between different ways of knowing, alternative visions of the future, competing ideas about what’s ethical and what’s not. Hulme makes the point that one of the reasons that we disagree about climate change is because we disagree about the role of science in today’s society. He encourages readers to use climate change as a tool to rigorously question the basis of our beliefs, assumptions and prejudices. Since uncertainty was the course’s raison d’etre, I was fortunate to have an extraordinary cohort of students who readily engaged with a course that forced them to confront their own epistemological limits — both personally and in a disciplinary sense. (See their blog: https://scom201.wordpress.com/). Science is often associated with objective realities. It thus tends to distinguish itself from the post-structuralist vein of critique that dominates much of the contemporary humanities. At the core of post-structuralism is scepticism about everyday, commonly accepted “truths” or what some call “meta-narratives” as well as an acknowledgement of the role that subjectivity plays in the pursuit of knowledge (Lyotard). However if we can’t rely on objective truths or impartial facts then where does this leave us when it comes to generating policy or encouraging behavioural change around the issue of climate change? Controversial philosophy of science scholar Bruno Latour sits squarely in the post-structuralist camp. In his 2004 article, “Why has critique run out of steam? From matters of fact to matters of concern”, he laments the way the right wing has managed to gain ground in the climate change debate through arguing that uncertainty and lack of proof is reason enough to deny demands for action. Or to use his turn-of-phrase, “dangerous extremists are using the very same argument of social construction to destroy hard-won evidence that could save our lives” (Latour n.p). Through co-opting (the Left’s dearly held notion of) scepticism and even calling themselves “climate sceptics”, they exploited doubt as a rationale for why we should do nothing about climate change. Uncertainty is not only an important part of science, but also of the human condition. However, as sociologist Sheila Jasanoff explains in her Nature article, “Technologies of Humility”, uncertainty has become like a disease: Uncertainty has become a threat to collective action, the disease that knowledge must cure. It is the condition that poses cruel dilemmas for decision makers; that must be reduced at all costs; that is tamed with scenarios and assessments; and that feeds the frenzy for new knowledge, much of it scientific. (Jasanoff 33) If we move from talking about climate change as “a matter of fact” to “a matter of concern”, argues Bruno Latour, then we can start talking about useful ways to combat it, rather than talking about whether the science is “in” or not. Facts certainly matter, claims Latour, but they can’t give us the whole story, rather “they assemble with other ingredients to produce a matter of concern” (Potter and Oster 123). Emily Potter and Candice Oster suggest that climate change can’t be understood through either natural or cultural frames alone and, “unlike a matter of fact, matters of concern cannot be explained through a single point of view or discursive frame” (123). This makes a lot of what Hulme argues far more useful because it enables the debate to be taken to another level. Those of us with non-scientific expertise can centre debates around the kinds of societies we want, rather than being caught up in the scientific (un)certainties. If we translate Latour’s concept of climate change being “a matter of concern” into the discourse of environmental management then what we come up with, I think, is the “precautionary principle”. In the YouTube clip, “Stephen Schneider vs Skeptics”, Schneider argues that when in doubt about the potential environmental impacts of climate change, we should always apply the precautionary principle. This principle emerged from the UN conference on Environment and Development in Rio de Janeiro in 1992 and concerns the management of scientific risk. However its origins are evident much earlier in documents such as the “Use of Pesticides” from US President’s Science Advisory Committee in 1962. Unlike in criminal and other types of law where the burden of proof is on the prosecutor to show that the person charged is guilty of a particular offence, in environmental law the onus of proof is on the manufacturers to demonstrate the safety of their product. For instance, a pesticide should be restricted or disproved for use if there is “reasonable doubt” about its safety (Oreskes 374). Principle 15 of the Rio Declaration on Environment and Development in 1992 has its foundations in the precautionary principle: “Where there are threats of serious or irreversible environmental damage, lack of full scientific certainty should not be used as a reason for postponing measures to prevent environmental degradation” (n.p). According to Environmental Law Online, the Rio declaration suggests that, “The precautionary principle applies where there is a ‘lack of full scientific certainty’ – that is, when science cannot say what consequences to expect, how grave they are, or how likely they are to occur” (n.p.). In order to make predictions about the likelihood of an event occurring, scientists employ a level of subjectivity, or need to “reveal their degree of belief that a prediction will turn out to be correct … [S]omething has to substitute for this lack of certainty” otherwise “the only alternative is to admit that absolutely nothing is known” (Hulme 85). These statements of “subjective probabilities or beliefs” are called Bayesian, after eighteenth century English mathematician Sir Thomas Bayes who developed the theory of evidential probability. These “probabilities” are estimates, or in other words, subjective, informed judgements that draw upon evidence and experience about the likelihood of event occurring. The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) uses Bayesian beliefs to determine the risk or likelihood of an event occurring. The IPCC provides the largest international scientific assessment of climate change and often adopts a consensus model where viewpoint reached by the majority of scientists is used to establish knowledge amongst an interdisciplinary community of scientists and then communicate it to the public (Hulme 88). According to the IPCC, this consensus is reached amongst more than more than 450 lead authors, more than 800 contributing authors, and 2500 scientific reviewers. While it is an advisory body and is not policy-prescriptive, the IPCC adopts particular linguistic conventions to indicate the probability of a statement being correct. Stephen Schneider convinced the IPCC to use this approach to systemise uncertainty (Lemonick). So for instance, in the IPCC reports, the term “likely” denotes a chance of 66%-90% of the statement being correct, while “very likely” denotes more than a 90% chance. Note the change from the Third Assessment Report (2001), indicating that “most of the observed warming in over the last fifty years is likely to have been due to the increase in greenhouse gas emissions” to the Fourth Assessment (February 2007) which more strongly states: “Most of the observed increase in global average temperatures since the mid twentieth century is very likely due to the observed increase in anthropogenic greenhouse gas concentrations” (Hulme 51, my italics). A fiery attack on Tim Flannery by Andrew Bolt on Steve Price’s talkback radio show in June 2010 illustrates just how misunderstood scientific uncertainty is in the broader community. When Price introduces Flannery as former Australian of the Year, Bolt intercedes, claiming Flannery is “Alarmist of the Year”, then goes on to chastise Flannery for making various forecasts which didn’t eventuate, such as that Perth and Brisbane might run out of water by 2009. “How much are you to blame for the swing in sentiment, the retreat from global warming policy and rise of scepticism?” demands Bolt. In the context of the events of late 2009 and early 2010, the fact that these events didn’t materialise made Flannery, and others, seem unreliable. And what Bolt had to say on talkback radio, I suspect, resonated with a good proportion of its audience. What Bolt was trying to do was discredit Flannery’s scientific credentials and in the process erode trust in the expert. Flannery’s response was to claim that, what he said was that these events might eventuate. In much the same way that the climate sceptics have managed to co-opt scepticism and use it as a rationale for inaction on climate change, Andrew Bolt here either misunderstands basic scientific method or quite consciously misleads and manipulates the public. As Naomi Oreskes argues, “proof does not play the role in science that most people think it does (or should), and therefore it cannot play the role in policy that skeptics demand it should” (Oreskes 370). Doubt and ‘Situated’ Hope Uncertainty and ambiguity then emerge here as resources because they force us to confront those things we really want–not safety in some distant, contested future but justice and self-understanding now. (Sheila Jasanoff, cited in Hulme, back cover) In his last published book before his death in mid-2010, Science as a contact sport, Stephen Schneider’s advice to aspiring science communicators is that they should engage with the media “not at all, or a lot”. Climate scientist Ann Henderson-Sellers adds that there are very few scientists “who have the natural ability, and learn or cultivate the talents, of effective communication with and through the media” (430). In order to attract the public’s attention, it was once commonplace for scientists to write editorials and exploit fear-provoking measures by including a “useful catastrophe or two” (Moser and Dilling 37). But are these tactics effective? Susanne Moser thinks not. She argues that “numerous studies show that … fear may change attitudes … but not necessarily increase active engagement or behaviour change” (Moser 70). Furthermore, risk psychologists argue that danger is always context specific (Hulme 196). If the risk or danger is “situated” and “tangible” (such as lead toxicity levels in children in Mt Isa from the Xstrata mine) then the public will engage with it. However if it is “un-situated” (distant, intangible and diffuse) like climate change, the audience is less likely to. In my SCOM201 class we examined the impact of two climate change-related campaigns. The first one was a short film used to promote the 2010 Copenhagen Climate Change Summit (“Scary”) and the second was the State Government of Victoria’s “You have the power: Save Energy” public awareness campaign (“You”). Using Moser’s article to guide them, students evaluated each campaign’s effectiveness. Their conclusions were that the “You have the power” campaign had far more impact because it a) had very clear objectives (to cut domestic power consumption) b) provided a very clear visualisation of carbon dioxide through the metaphor of black balloons wafting up into the atmosphere, c) gave viewers a sense of empowerment and hope through describing simple measures to cut power consumption and, d) used simple but effective metaphors to convey a world progressed beyond human control, such as household appliances robotically operating themselves in the absence of humans. Despite its high production values, in comparison, the Copenhagen Summit promotion was more than ineffective and bordered on propaganda. It actually turned viewers off with its whining, righteous appeal of, “please help the world”. Its message and objectives were ambiguous, it conveyed environmental catastrophe through hackneyed images, exploited children through a narrative based on fear and gave no real sense of hope or empowerment. In contrast the Victorian Government’s campaign focused on just one aspect of climate change that was made both tangible and situated. Doubt and uncertainty are productive tools in the pursuit of knowledge. Whether it is scientific or otherwise, uncertainty will always be the motivation that “feeds the frenzy for new knowledge” (Jasanoff 33). Articulating the importance of Hulme’s book, Sheila Jasanoff indicates we should make doubt our friend, “Without downplaying its seriousness, Hulme demotes climate change from ultimate threat to constant companion, whose murmurs unlock in us the instinct for justice and equality” (Hulme back cover). The “murmurs” that Jasanoff gestures to here, I think, can also be articulated as hope. And it is in this discussion of climate change that doubt and hope sit side-by-side as bedfellows, mutually entangled. Since the “failed” Copenhagen Summit, there has been a distinct shift in climate change discourse from “experts”. We have moved away from doom and gloom discourses and into the realm of what I shall call “situated” hope. “Situated” hope is not based on blind faith alone, but rather hope grounded in evidence, informed judgements and experience. For instance, in distinct contrast to his cautionary tale The Weather Makers: The History & Future Impact of Climate Change, Tim Flannery’s latest book, Here on Earth is a biography of our Earth; a planet that throughout its history has oscillated between Gaian and Medean impulses. However Flannery’s wonder about the natural world and our potential to mitigate the impacts of climate change is not founded on empty rhetoric but rather tempered by evidence; he presents a series of case studies where humanity has managed to come together for a global good. Whether it’s the 1987 Montreal ban on CFCs (chlorinated fluorocarbons) or the lesser-known 2001 Stockholm Convention on POP (Persistent Organic Pollutants), what Flannery envisions is an emerging global civilisation, a giant, intelligent super-organism glued together through social bonds. He says: If that is ever achieved, the greatest transformation in the history of our planet would have occurred, for Earth would then be able to act as if it were as Francis Bacon put it all those centuries ago, ‘one entire, perfect living creature’. 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Rio de Janeiro, 1992. 19 Jan 2011 ‹http://www.unep.org/Documents.Multilingual/Default.asp?DocumentID=78&ArticleID=1163›. “Scary Global Warming Propaganda Video Shown at the Copenhagen Climate Meeting – 7 Dec. 2009.” YouTube. 21 Mar. 2011‹http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jzSuP_TMFtk&feature=related›. Schneider, Stephen. Science as a Contact Sport: Inside the Battle to Save Earth’s Climate. National Geographic Society, 2010. ———. “Stephen Schneider vs. the Sceptics”. YouTube. 21 Mar. 2011 ‹http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7rj1QcdEqU0›. Schwartz, Steven. “Science in Search of a New Formula.” 2010. 20 May 2010 ‹http://www.vc.mq.edu.au/blog/2010/03/11/science-in-search-of-a-new-formula/›. Tiffen, Rodney. "You Wouldn't Read about It: Climate Scientists Right." 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The use of RFID (radio frequency identification), also called “smart tags”, is on the rise in the retail industry. In short, RFID are tiny microchips using short range radio signals to emit information and can be used to tag goods, buildings, cars, pets, people etc. Unlike bar-code scanners, which must be held directly in front of the item being scanned, one of the benefits of RFID tags is that they can be scanned from a distance. It is expected that RFID will eventually replace the bar code and its use is likely to save companies like Wal-Mart, Procter & Gamble and Gillette millions of dollars as they can track every bottle of shampoo or packet of razor blades from the factory floor to the store shelf (Baard, “Lawmakers”). Most agree that using RFID to track goods from the point of manufacture to the location of sale in order to prevent goods being lost, stolen or handled inappropriately, is acceptable and not cause for privacy concerns. But as marketers often take every opportunity to learn more about consumers and their purchasing behaviours, some fear that tags embedded in clothing, membership cards, mobile phones etc. may be scanned inappropriately and used to target individuals with cleverly tailored marketing messages. In the effort to provide a more customised experience, business is at risk of becoming increasingly intrusive – something that will not be universally acceptable. But is it all bad? Privacy concerns aside, smart tags can add new functions as well as enable a whole range of innovative products and services when joined with other technologies. RFID beyond Traditional Value Chain Management Prada is often mentioned as an example of how RFID can be taken beyond the traditional value chain management. Prada has implemented some ground-breaking technology in their Manhattan (New York) store, all based around RFID. RF-receivers automatically detect and scan garments brought into the dressing room. Via a touch screen the customers view tips on how to mix and match, access information about available sizes, colours, fabrics and styles, and watch video clips of models wearing the very outfit they are trying on (Grassley, ”Prada’s”). Eventually customers will be able to create virtual closets and store information about what they have tried on or bought on their Prada Web account (”Prada’s”). Customers’ details, including notes made by sales assistants, e.g. preferences, can be stored automatically in customer cards, readable by sales assistants’ handhelds or at the cash register (”Prada’s”) – information that could be used by the assistant to spur further sales by suggesting for example: “Last time you were here, you bought a black skirt. We have a sweater that matches that skirt” (Batista). Another example is Precision Dynamics Corp (PDC), which developed an automatic identification wristband incorporating RFID technology. One application is the AgeBand which is used to verify the bearer’s age when purchasing alcohol. ID is checked when entering the venue and the customer receives a plastic wristband printed with personal details that cannot be removed without being damaged or destroyed (Swedberg). The embedded chip can be linked to a customer’s credit card number or a cash deposit to pay for purchases while on the premises. “It is also an easy way to collect statistics for marketing”, says PDC’s senior marketing communications specialist, Paula Maggio (qtd. in Swedberg). Although the RFID clearly provides benefits and new opportunities to business operations, there is an argument over whether consumers will ultimately gain or suffer when smart tags become more commonplace. Certainly it may be convenient to have smart hangers that project virtual clothes onto a customer’s reflection in the mirror so they can try on a range of outfits without having to remove their clothes, but the collection of personal information necessary to provide this convenience also raises complex privacy issues. Fear of Intrusive Marketing Hesseldahl believes that our homes, workplaces, shops, malls, cars, trains, planes and bicycles will all be environments that constantly notice who we are and what we are doing, and which – according to a detailed profile of our habits – will try to service us in ways we can hardly even imagine today (25). This may be helpful to us in many ways, but there are concerns that organisations will use RF-technology to connect product information to individuals in order to create personal profiles which can then be used for pin-pointed marketing purposes, or even for tracking individuals, without their knowledge or consent. A possible scenario is one where consumers are bombarded with intrusive advertising based on what they are wearing, what they are purchasing, their history of past purchases, demographics and more. “Kill Machines” Fearing that the technology will be abused, many privacy advocates suggest that RFID must only be used to keep track of goods in the supply chain and thus be deactivated as soon as they leave the store. For example, consumer organisations such as CASPIAN (Consumers Against Supermarket Privacy Invasion and Numbering), the American Civil Liberties Union, and Electronic Frontiers Australia, lobby for the obligatory deactivation of the tags at the point of purchase. But companies such as Procter & Gamble and Wal-Mart would prefer to keep the tags active after checkout, rather than disabling them with so called “kill machines”, so they can match the unique codes emitted by RF-tags to shopper’s personal information (Baard “Watchdog”). They will want to use RF technology to support the sales process and to provide the consumer with new and better services than what is otherwise possible. And without doubt, if the tags are deactivated some genuinely helpful applications would be lost to the consumer, e.g. being able to call your refrigerator from the supermarket to check if you need milk or your washing machine alerting you if you have accidentally put a delicate garment in your white wash. Looking at the Bright Side Privacy concerns aside, RFID technology, in fact, has the potential to empower consumers as it will put more information about products at consumers’ fingertips. Consumers will for example be able to go into competing supermarkets and scan items with an RF-receiver embedded in their mobile phone, record prices, store and process the information to evaluate which store offers better value. The information can then be shared with other shoppers via the Internet, and suddenly we have a powerful “shopping bot” which transcends the online world. Consequently, RFID has the potential to make competition between retailers tougher than ever before and to benefit consumers through lower and more transparent pricing. In addition, RFID tags may also make possible faster and more accurate services, particularly in supermarkets. Shopping carts are mounted with computers which automatically register all items put into the cart and enable the customer to keep track of items, their prices and their total amount (Blau). RFID can also be used to find the location of items in the store and show more detailed information on a product (origin, use by date, content etc.) and as the customer passes through the checkout, all purchases are registered automatically in a matter of seconds. Privacy Protection In Australia, the Privacy Amendment (Private Sector) Act 2000, with its ten National Privacy Principles (NPP), has been highly criticised over the last few years as being much to open for interpretation and thus difficult to reinforce. In short, the NPP allows for marketers to use non-sensitive personal information for direct marketing purposes without seeking the individual’s consent if it is impracticable to do so (“Guidelines”). That is, as long as they make available a privacy policy explaining why the data is collected and who will have access, they ensure that the data is correct and up to date, protected from unauthorised access, and that individuals are given access to their data upon request (“Guidelines”). In 2003 the Spam Act was introduced in order to take a tougher stand on the escalating problem with massive amounts of unsolicited emails filling up inboxes, threatening the whole concept of the Internet and its many benefits. In essence, the Spam Act will not allow commercial electronic messages to be sent without the recipient’s prior consent or without a possibility to unsubscribe (“Spam”). In the same manner that the Spam Act was passed to regulate the collection of Internet users’ contact information, it may become necessary to regulate the collection and use of data obtained via RFID if the NPP are deemed inadequate. The difficulty will be to do so and at the same time safeguard many of the positive side-effects the technology may have for businesses and consumers. As argued by Roger Clarke, privacy has to be balanced against many other, often competing interests: “The privacy interest of one person may conflict with that of another person, or of a groups of people, or of an organisation, or of society as a whole. Hence: Privacy Protection is a process of finding appropriate balances between privacy and multiple competing interests.” It is therefore recommended that legislators and policy makers keep up with the development and undertake significant research into both sides before any legislation is passed so that the best interests of consumers and business are catered for. Can There Be a Win-Win Situation? Although business can expect some significant gains from the use of RFID, particularly through a more effective value chain management but also from more substantial and better quality business intelligence, consumers may in fact be the real winners as new and better business concepts, products and services are made available. Further, with the increased transparency in business, consumers can use the vast amounts of information available to find the best products and services, at the best price, and from the best provider. With the aid of smart software, such as search agents, it will be a rather effortless task and will provide consumers with a real advantage. But this assumes consumers are aware of the benefits and how they can be exploited, and have the means to do so – something that will require some skill, interest, money and time. Consumers will also have to give up some privacy in order to take full advantage of the new technology. For the industry, the main challenge will be communicating what these advantages are, as acceptance, adoption and thus also return on investment will depend upon it. For legislators and policy makers, the major dilemma will be to provide a regulatory framework that is flexible but distinct, and that will prevent abuse and at the same time enable positive outcomes for both business and consumers. A fine line that should be treaded wisely in order to create a future where everyone can gain from the benefits of using this technology. References Baard, Mark. “Lawmakers Alarmed by RFID Spying.” Wired News 26 Feb. 2004. 9 Mar. 2004 http://www.wired.com/news/privacy/0,1848,62433,00.html>. Baard, Mark. ”Watchdog Push for RFID Laws.” Wired News 5 Apr. 2004. 6 Apr. 2004 http://www.wired.com/news/privacy/0,1848,62922,00.html>. Batista, Elisa. ”What Your Clothes Say about You.” Wired News 12 Mar. 2003. 8 Mar. 2004 http://www.wired.com/news/wireless/0,1382,58006,00.html>. Blau, John. ”Så fungerar det digitala snabbköpet.” PC för Alla 1 (2004). 8 Mar. 2004 http://www.idg.se/ArticlePages/200402/27/20040227165630_IDG. se760/20040227165630_IDG.se760.dbp.asp>. Clarke, Roger. Beyond the OECD Guidelines: Privacy Protection for the 21st Century. 4 Jan. 2000. 15 Mar. 2004 http://www.anu.edu.au/people/Roger.Clarke/DV/PP21C.html>. Grassley, Tanya. ”Retailers Outfit Stores with Tech.” Wired News 18 Dec. 2002. 8 Mar. 2004 http://www.wired.com/news/holidays/0,1882,56885,00.html>. “Guidelines to the National Privacy Principles.” The Office of the Federal Privacy Commissioner 2001. 4 Apr. 2004 http://www.privacy.gov.au/publications/nppgl_01.html#sum>. Hessledahl, Peter. Den globale organisme. Copenhagen: Aschehoug, 2002. 24 Apr. 2004 http://www.global-organisme.dk/e-bog/den_globale_organisme.pdf>. ”Prada’s Smart Tags Too Clever?” Wired News 27 Oct. 2002. 9 Mar. 2004 http://www.wired.com/news/technology/0,1282,56042,00.html>. “Spam” DCITA 2004. 4 Apr. 2004 http://www2.dcita.gov.au/ie/trust/improving/spam>. Swedberg, Claire. ”Putting Drinks on the Cuff.” RFID Journal 15 Jun. 2004. 15 Jun. 2004 http://www.rfidjournal.com/article/articleview/987/1/1/>. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Melchior, Angelika. "Tag & Trace Marketing." M/C Journal 8.4 (2005). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0508/03-melchior.php>. APA Style Melchior, A. (Aug. 2005) "Tag & Trace Marketing," M/C Journal, 8(4). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0508/03-melchior.php>.

IntroductionClowns can be seen as enacting catastrophe with a small “c.” They are experts in “failing better” who perhaps live on the cusp of turning catastrophe into a metaphorical whirlwind while ameliorating the devastation that lies therein. They also have the propensity to succumb to the devastation, masking their own sense of the void with the gestures of play. In this paper, knowledge about clowns emerges from my experience, working with circus clowns in Circus Knie (Switzerland) and Circo Tihany (South America), observing performances and films about clowns, and reading, primarily in European fiction, of clowns in multiple guises. The exposure to a diverse range of texts, visual media and performance, has led me to the possibility that clowning is not only a conceptual discipline but also a state of being that is yet to be fully recognised.Diminutive CatastropheI have an idea (probably a long held obsession) of the clown as a diminutive figure of catastrophe, of catastrophe with a very small “c.” In the context of this incisive academic dialogue on relationships between catastrophe and creativity where writers are challenged with the horrendous tragedies that nature and humans unleash on the planet, this inept character appears to be utterly insignificant and, moreover, unworthy of any claim to creativity. A clown does not solve problems in the grand scheme of society: if anything he/she simply highlights problems, arguably in a fatalistic manner where innovation may be an alien concept. Invariably, as Eric Weitz observes, when clowns depart from their moment on the stage, laughter evaporates and the world settles back into the relentless shades of oppression and injustice. In response to the natural forces of destruction—earthquakes, tsunamis, cyclones, and volcanic eruptions—as much as to the forces of rage in war and ethnic cleansing that humans inflict on one another, a clown makes but a tiny gesture. Curiously, though, those fingers brushing dust off a threadbare jacket may speak volumes.Paradox is the crux of this exploration. Clowns, the best of them, project the fragility of human value on a screen beyond measure and across many layers and scales of metaphorical understanding (Big Apple Circus; Stradda). Why do odd tramps and ordinary inept people seem to pivot against the immense flows of loss and outrage which tend to pervade our understanding of the global condition today? Can Samuel Beckett’s call to arms of "failing better” in the vein of Charles Chaplin, Oleg Popov, or James Thiérrée offer a creative avenue to pursue (Bala; Coover; Salisbury)? Do they reflect other ways of knowing in the face of big “C” Catastrophes? Creation and CatastropheTo wrestle with these questions, I wish to begin by proposing a big picture view of earth-life wherein, across inconceivable aeons, huge physical catastrophes have wrought unimaginable damage on the ecological “completeness” of the time. I am not a palaeontologist or an evolutionary scientist but I suspect that, if human life is taken out of the equation, the planet since time immemorial has been battered by “disaster” which changed but ultimately did not destroy the earth. Evolution is replete with narratives of species wiped out by ice-ages, volcanoes, earthquakes, and meteors and yet the organism of this planet has survived and even regenerated. In metaphorical territory, the Sanskrit philosophers have a wise take on this process. Indian concepts are always multiple, crowded with possibilities, but I find there is something intriguing in the premise (even if it is impossible to tie down) of Shiva’s dance:Shiva Nataraja destroys creation by his Tandava Dance, or the Dance of Eternity. As he dances, everything disintegrates, apparently into nothingness. Then, out of the thin vapours, matter and life are recreated again. Shiva also dances in the hearts of his devotees as the Great Soul. As he dances, one’s egotism is consumed and one is rendered pure in soul and without any spiritual blemish. (Ghosh 109–10)For a dancer, the central location of dance in life’s creation forces is a powerful idea but I am also interested in how this metaphysical perspective aligns with current scientific views. How could these ancient thinkers predict evolutionary processes? Somehow, in the mix of experiential observation and speculation, they foresaw the complexity of time and, moreover, appreciated the necessary interdependence of creation and destruction (creativity and catastrophe). In comparison to western thought which privileges progression—and here evolution is a prime example—Hindu conceptualisation appears to prefer fatalism or a cyclical system of understanding that negates the potential of change to make things better. However, delving more closely into scientific narratives on evolution, the progression of life forms to the human species has involved the decimation of an uncountable number of other living possibilities. Contrariwise, Shiva’s Dance of Eternity is premised on endless diachronic change crossed vertically by reincarnation, through which progression and regression are equally expressed. I offer this simplistic view of both accounts of creation merely to point out that the interdependency of destruction and creation is deeply embodied in human knowledge.To introduce the clown figure into this idea, I have to turn to the minutiae of destruction and creation; to examples in the everyday nature of regeneration through catastrophe. I have memories of touring in the Northern Territory of Australia amidst strident green shoots bursting out of a fire-tortured landscape or, earlier in Paris, of the snow-crusted earth being torn asunder by spring’s awakening. We all have countless memories of such small-scale transformations of pain and destruction into startling glimpses of beauty. It is at this scale of creative wrestling that I see the clown playing his/her role.In the tension between fatalism and, from a human point of view, projections of the right to progression, a clown occupying the stage vacated by Shiva might stamp out a slight rhythm of his/her own with little or no meaning in the action. The brush on the sleeve might be hard to detect in an evolutionary or Hindu time scale but zoom down to the here and now of performance exchange and the scene may be quite different?Turning the Lens onto the Small-ScaleSmall-scale, clowns tend to be tiny bundles or, sometimes, gangly unbundles of ineptitude, careering through the simplest tasks with preposterous incompetence or, alternatively, imbibing complexity with the virtuosic delicacy—take Charles Chaplin’s shoe-lace spaghetti twirling and nibbling on nail-bones as an example. Clowns disrupt normalcy in small eddies of activity which often wreak paths of destruction within the tightly ordered rage of social formations. The momentum is chaotic and, not dissimilar to storms, clownish enactment bears down not so much to threaten human life but to disrupt what we humans desire and formulate as the natural order of decorum and success. Instead of the terror driven to consciousness by cyclones and hurricanes, the clown’s chaos is superficially benign. When Chaplin’s generous but unrealistic gesture to save the tightrope-act is thwarted by an escaped monkey, or when Thiérrée conducts a spirited debate with the wall of his abode in the midst of an identity crisis (Raoul), life is not threatened. Such incongruous and chaotic trajectories generate laughter and, sometimes, sadness. Moreover, as Weitz observes, “the clown-like imagination, unfettered by earthly logic, urges us to entertain unlikely avenues of thought and action” (87). While it may seem insensitive, I suggest that similar responses of laughter, sadness and unlikely avenues of thought and action emerge in the aftermath of cataclysmic events.Fear, unquestionably, saturates big states of catastrophe. Slide down the scale and intriguing parallels between fear and laughter emerge, one being a clown’s encapsulation of vulnerability and his/her stoic determination to continue, to persevere no matter what. There are many ways to express this continuity: Beckett’s characters are forever waiting, fearful that nothing will arrive, yet occupy themselves with variations of cruelty and amusement through the interminable passage of time. A reverse action occurs in Grock’s insistence that he can play his tiny violin, in spite of his ever-collapsing chair. It never occurs to him to find another chair or play standing up: that, in an incongruous way, would admit defeat because this chair and his playing constitute Grock’s compulsion to succeed. Fear of failure generates multiple innovations in his relationship with the chair and in his playing skills. Storm-like, the pursuit of a singular idea in both instances triggers chaotic consequences. Physical destruction may be slight in such ephemeral storms but the act, the being in the world, does leave its mark on those who witness its passage.I would like to offer a mark left in me by a slight gesture on the part of a clown. I choose this one among many because the singular idea played out in Circus Knie (Switzerland) back in the early 1970s does not conform to the usual parameters. This Knie season featured Dimitri, an Italian-Swiss clown, as the principal attraction. Following clown conventions, Dimitri appeared across the production as active glue between the various circus acts, his persona operating as an odd-jobs man to fix and clean. For instance, he intervened in the elephant act as a cleaner, scrubbing and polishing the elephant’s skin with little effect and tuned, with much difficulty, a tiny fiddle for the grand orchestration to come. But Dimitri was also given moments of his own and this is the one that has lodged in my memory.Dimitri enters the brightly lit and empty circus ring with a broom in hand. The audience at this point have accepted the signal that Dimitri’s interludes prepare the ring for the next attraction—to sweep, as it were, the sawdust back to neutrality. He surveys the circle for a moment and then takes a position on the periphery to begin what appears to be a regular clean-up. The initial brushes over the sawdust, however, produce an unexpected result—the light rather than the sawdust responds to his broom stokes. Bafflement swiftly passes as an idea takes hold: the diminutive figure trots off to the other side of the ring and, after a deep breath and a quick glance to see if anyone is looking (we all are), nudges the next edge of light. Triumphantly, the pattern is pursued with increasing nimbleness, until the figure with the broom stands before a pin-spot of light at the ring’s centre. He hesitates, checks again about unwanted surveillance, and then, in a single strike (poof), sweeps light and the world into darkness.This particular clown gesture contradicts usual commentaries of ineptitude and failure associated with clown figures but the incongruity of sweeping light and the narrative of the little man who scores a win lie thoroughly in the characteristic grounds of clownish behaviour. Moreover, the enactment of this simple idea illustrates for me today, as much as it did on its initial viewing, how powerful a slight clown gesture can be. This catastrophe with a very small “c:” the little man with nothing but a broom and an idea destroyed, like the great god Shiva, the world of light.Jesse McKnight’s discussion of the peculiar attraction of two little men of the 20th century, James Joyce’s Bloom and Charles Chaplin, could also apply to Dimitri:They are at sixes and sevens here on earth but in tune with the stars, buffoons of time, and heroes of eternity. In the petty cogs of the causal, they appear foolish; in the grand swirl of the universe, they are wise, outmaneuvering their assailants and winning the race or the girl against all odds or merely retaining their skins and their dignity by nightfall. (496) Clowning as a State of Mind/ConsciousnessAnother perspective on a clown’s relationship to ideas of catastrophe which I would like to examine is embedded in the discussion above but, at the same time, deviates by way of a harsh tangent from the beatitude and almost sacred qualities attributed by McKnight’s and my own visions of the rhythmic gestures of these diminutive figures. Beckett’s advice in Worstward Ho (1983) is a fruitful starting place wherein the directive is “to keep on trying even if the hope of success is dashed again and again by failure: ‘Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better’” (Le Feuvre 13). True to the masterful wordsmith, these apparently simple words are not transparent; rather, they deflect a range of contradictory interpretations. Yes, failure can facilitate open, flexible and alternative thought which guards against fanatical and ultra-orthodox certitude: “Failure […] is free to honour other ways of knowing, other construals of power” (Werry & O’Gorman 107). On the other hand, failure can mask a horrifying realisation of the utter meaninglessness of human existence. It is as if catastrophe is etched lightly in external clown behaviour and scarred pitilessly deep in the psyches that drive the comic behaviour. Pupils of the pre-eminent clown teacher Jacques Lecoq suggest that theatrical clowning pivots on “finding that basic state of vulnerability and allowing the audience to exist in that state with you” (Butler 64). Butler argues that this “state of clowning” is “a state of anti-intellectualism, a kind of pure emotion” (ibid). From my perspective, there is also an emotional stratum in which the state or condition involves an adult anxiety desiring to protect the child’s view of the world with a fierceness equal to that of a mother hen protecting her brood. A clown knows the catastrophe of him/herself but refuses to let that knowledge (of failure) become an end. An obstinate resilience, even a frank acknowledgement of hopelessness, makes a clown not so much pure emotion or childlike but a kind of knowledgeable avenger of states of loss. Here I need to admit that I attribute the clowning state or consciousness to an intricate lineage inclusive of the named clowns, Grock, Chaplin, Popov, Dimitri, and Thiérrée, which extends to a whole host of others who never entered a circus or performance ring: Mikhail Dostoyevsky’s Mushkin (the holy Russian fool), Henry Miller’s Auguste, Salman Rushdie’s Saleem, Jacques Tati, Joan Miro, Marc Chagall, Jean Cocteau, Eric Satie’s sonic whimsy, and Pina Bausch’s choreography. In the following observation, the overlay of catastrophe and play is a crucial indication of this intricate lineage:Heiner Müller compared Pina Bausch's universe to the world of fairy tales. “History invades it like trouble, like summer flies [...] The territory is an unknown planet, an emerging island product of an ignored (forgotten or future) catastrophe [...] The whole is nothing but children's play”. (Biro 68)Bausch clearly recognises and is interested in the catastrophic moments or psychological wiring of life and her works are not exempt from comic (clownish) modulations in the play of violence and despair that often takes centre stage. In fact, Bausch probably plays on ambivalence between despair and play more explicitly than most artists. From one angle, this ambivalence is generational, as her adult performers bear the weight of oppression within the structures (and remembering of) childhood games. An artistic masterstroke in this regard is the tripling reproduction over many years of her work exploring gender negotiations at a social dance gathering: Kontakhof. Initially, the work was performed by Bausch’s regular company of mature, if diverse, dancers (Bausch 1977), then by an elderly ensemble, some of whom had appeared in the original production (Kontakhof), and, finally, by a group of adolescents in 2010. The latter version became the subject of a documentary film, Dancing Dreams (2010), which revealed the fidelity of the re-enactment, subtly transformed by the brashness and uncertainty of the teenage protagonists playing predetermined roles and moves. Viewing the three productions side-by-side reveals socialised relations of power and desire, resonant of Michel Foucault’s seminal observations (1997), and the catastrophe of gender relations subtly caught in generational change. The debility of each age group becomes apparent. None are able to engage in communication and free-play (dream) without negotiating an unyielding sexual terrain and, more often than not, the misinterpretation of one human to another within social conventions. Bausch’s affinity to the juxtaposition of childhood aspiration and adult despair places her in clown territory.Becoming “Inhuman” or SacrificialA variation on this condition of a relentless pursuit of failure is raised by Joshua Delpech-Ramey in an argument for the “inhuman” rights of clowns. His premise matches a “grotesque attachment to the world of things” to a clown’s existence that is “victimized by an excessive drive to exist in spite of all limitation. The clown is, in some sense, condemned to immortality” (133). In Delpech-Ramey’s terms:Chaplin is human not because his are the anxieties and frustrations of a man unable to realize his destiny, but because Chaplin—nearly starving, nearly homeless, a ghost in the machine—cannot not resist “the temptation to exist,” the giddiness of making something out of nothing, pancakes out of sawdust. In some sense the clown can survive every accident because s/he is an undead immortal, demiurge of a world without history. (ibid.)The play on a clown’s “undead” propensity, on his/her capacity to survive at all costs, provides a counterpoint to a tragic lens which has not been able, in human rights terms, to transcend "man’s inhumanity to man.” It might also be argued that this capacity to survive resists nature’s blindness to the plight of humankind (and visa versa). While I admire the skilful argument to place clowns as centrepieces in the formulation of alternative and possibly more potent human rights legislations, I’m not absolutely convinced that the clown condition, as I see it, provides a less mysterious and tragic state from which justice can be administered. Lear and his fool almost become interchangeable at the end of Shakespeare’s tragedy: both grapple with but cannot resolve the problem of justice.There is a little book written by Henry Miller, The Smile at the Foot of the Ladder (1948), which bears upon this aspect of a clown’s condition. In a postscript, Miller, more notorious for his sexually explicit fiction, states his belief in the unique status of clowns:Joy is like a river: it flows ceaselessly. It seems to me this is the message which the clown is trying to convey to us, that we should participate through ceaseless flow and movement, that we should not stop to reflect, compare, analyse, possess, but flow on and through, endlessly, like music. This is the gift of surrender, and the clown makes it symbolically. It is for us to make it real. (47)Miller’s fictional Auguste’s “special privilege [was] to re-enact the errors, the foibles, the stupidities, all the misunderstandings which plague human kind. To be ineptitude itself” (29). With overtones of a Christian resurrection, Auguste surrenders himself and, thereby, flows on through death, his eyes “wide open, gazing with a candour unbelievable at the thin sliver of a moon which had just become visible in the heavens” (40). It may be difficult to reconcile ineptitude with a Christ figure but those clowns who have made some sort of mark on human imagination tend to wander across territories designated as sacred and profane with a certain insouciance and privilege. They are individuals who become question marks: puzzles not meant to be solved. Maybe similar glimpses of the ineffable occur in tiny, miniscule shifts of consciousness, like the mark given to me by Dimitri and Chaplin and...—the unending list of clowns and clown conditions that have gifted their diminutive catastrophes to the problem of creativity, of rebirth after and in the face of destruction.With McKnight, I dedicate the last word to Chaplin, who speaks with final authority on the subject: “Be brave enough to face the veil and lift it, and see and know the void it hides, and stand before that void and know that within yourself is your world” (505).Thus poised, the diminutive clown figure may not carry the ferment of Shiva’s message of destruction and rebirth, he/she may not bear the strength to creatively reconstruct or re-birth normality after catastrophic devastation. But a clown, and all the humanity given to the collisions of laughter and tears, may provide an inept response to the powerlessness which, as humans, we face in catastrophe and death. Does this mean that creativity is inimical with catastrophe or that existing with catastrophe implies creativity? As noted at the beginning, these ruminations concern small “c” catastrophes. They are known otherwise as clowns.ReferencesBala, Michael. “The Clown.” Jung Journal: Culture & Psyche 4.1 (2010): 50–71.Bausch, Pina. Kontakthof. Wuppertal Dance Theatre, 1977.Big Apple Circus. Circopedia. 27 Feb. 2013 ‹http://www.circopedia.org/index.php/Main_Page›.Biro, Yvette. “Heartbreaking Fragments, Magnificent Whole: Pina Bausch’s New Minimyths.” PAJ: A Journal of Performance and Art 20.2 (1998): 68–72.Butler, Lauren. “Everything Seemed New: Clown as Embodied Critical Pedagogy.” Theatre Topics 22.1 (2012): 63–72.Coover, Robert. “Tears of a Clown.” Critique: Studies in Contemporary Fiction 42.1 (2000): 81–83.Dancing Dreams. Dirs. Anne Linsel and Rainer Hoffmann. First Run Features, 2010.Delpech-Ramey, Joshua. “Sublime Comedy: On the Inhuman Rights of Clowns.” SubStance 39.2 (2010): 131–41.Foucault, Michel. “The Ethics of the Concern for Self as Practice of Freedom.” Michel Foucault: Ethics: Subjectivity and Truth. Ed. Paul Rabinow. New York: The New Press, 1997. 281–302. Ghosh, Oroon. The Dance of Shiva and Other Tales from India. New York: New American Library, 1965.Kontakthof with Ladies and Gentlemen over ’65. Dir. Pina Bausch. Paris: L’Arche Editeur, 2007.Le Feuvre, Lisa. “Introduction.” Failure: Documents of Contemporary Art. Ed. Lisa Le Feuvre. London: Whitechapel Gallery, 2010. 12–21.McKnight, Jesse H. “Chaplin and Joyce: A Mutual Understanding of Gesture.” James Joyce Quarterly 45.3–4 (2008): 493–506.Miller, Henry. The Smile at the Foot of the Ladder. New York: New Directions Books, 1974.Raoul. Dir. James Thiérrée. Regal Theatre, Perth, 2012.Salisbury, Laura. “Beside Oneself Beckett, Comic Tremor and Solicitude.” Parallax 11.4 (2005): 81–92.Stradda. Stradda: Le Magazine de la Creation hors les Murs. 27 Feb. 2013 ‹http://www.horslesmurs.fr/-Decouvrez-le-magazine-.html›.Weitz, Eric. “Failure as Success: On Clowns and Laughing Bodies.” Performance Research: A Journal of the Performing Arts 17.1 (2012): 79–87.Werry, Margaret, and Róisín O'Gorman. “The Anatomy of Failure: An Inventory.” Performance Research: A Journal of the Performing Arts 17.1 (2012): 105–10.

Introduction: Technology EnthusiasmEnthusiasts are people who have a passion, keenness, dedication or zeal for a particular activity or hobby. Today, there are enthusiasts for almost everything, from genealogy, costume dramas, and country houses, to metal detectors, coin collecting, and archaeology. But to be described as an enthusiast is not necessarily a compliment. Historically, the term “enthusiasm” was first used in England in the early seventeenth century to describe “religious or prophetic frenzy among the ancient Greeks” (Hanks, n.p.). This frenzy was ascribed to being possessed by spirits sent not only by God but also the devil. During this period, those who disobeyed the powers that be or claimed to have a message from God were considered to be enthusiasts (McLoughlin).Enthusiasm retained its religious connotations throughout the eighteenth century and was also used at this time to describe “the tendency within the population to be swept by crazes” (Mee 31). However, as part of the “rehabilitation of enthusiasm,” the emerging middle-classes adopted the word to characterise the intensity of Romantic poetry. The language of enthusiasm was then used to describe the “literary ideas of affect” and “a private feeling of religious warmth” (Mee 2 and 34). While the notion of enthusiasm was embraced here in a more optimistic sense, attempts to disassociate enthusiasm from crowd-inciting fanaticism were largely unsuccessful. As such enthusiasm has never quite managed to shake off its pejorative connotations.The 'enthusiasm' discussed in this paper is essentially a personal passion for technology. It forms part of a longer tradition of historical preservation in the United Kingdom and elsewhere in the world. From preserved railways to Victorian pumping stations, people have long been fascinated by the history of technology and engineering; manifesting their enthusiasm through their nostalgic longings and emotional attachment to its enduring material culture. Moreover, enthusiasts have been central to the collection, conservation, and preservation of this particular material record. Technology enthusiasm in this instance is about having a passion for the history and material record of technological development, specifically here industrial archaeology. Despite being a pastime much participated in, technology enthusiasm is relatively under-explored within the academic literature. For the most part, scholarship has tended to focus on the intended users, formal spaces, and official narratives of science and technology (Adas, Latour, Mellström, Oldenziel). In recent years attempts have been made to remedy this imbalance, with researchers from across the social sciences examining the position of hobbyists, tinkerers and amateurs in scientific and technical culture (Ellis and Waterton, Haring, Saarikoski, Takahashi). Work from historians of technology has focussed on the computer enthusiast; for example, Saarikoski’s work on the Finnish personal computer hobby:The definition of the computer enthusiast varies historically. Personal interest, pleasure and entertainment are the most significant factors defining computing as a hobby. Despite this, the hobby may also lead to acquiring useful knowledge, skills or experience of information technology. Most often the activity takes place outside working hours but can still have links to the development of professional expertise or the pursuit of studies. In many cases it takes place in the home environment. On the other hand, it is characteristically social, and the importance of friends, clubs and other communities is greatly emphasised.In common with a number of other studies relating to technical hobbies, for example Takahashi who argues tinkerers were behind the advent of the radio and television receiver, Saarikoski’s work focuses on the role these users played in shaping the technology in question. The enthusiasts encountered in this paper are important here not for their role in shaping the technology, but keeping technological heritage alive. As historian of technology Haring reminds us, “there exist alternative ways of using and relating to technology” (18). Furthermore, the sociological literature on audiences (Abercrombie and Longhurst, Ang), fans (Hills, Jenkins, Lewis, Sandvoss) and subcultures (Hall, Hebdige, Schouten and McAlexander) has also been extended in order to account for the enthusiast. In Abercrombie and Longhurst’s Audiences, the authors locate ‘the enthusiast’ and ‘the fan’ at opposing ends of a continuum of consumption defined by questions of specialisation of interest, social organisation of interest and material productivity. Fans are described as:skilled or competent in different modes of production and consumption; active in their interactions with texts and in their production of new texts; and communal in that they construct different communities based on their links to the programmes they like. (127 emphasis in original) Based on this definition, Abercrombie and Longhurst argue that fans and enthusiasts differ in three ways: (1) enthusiasts’ activities are not based around media images and stars in the way that fans’ activities are; (2) enthusiasts can be hypothesized to be relatively light media users, particularly perhaps broadcast media, though they may be heavy users of the specialist publications which are directed towards the enthusiasm itself; (3) the enthusiasm would appear to be rather more organised than the fan activity. (132) What is striking about this attempt to differentiate between the fan and the enthusiast is that it is based on supposition rather than the actual experience and observation of enthusiasm. It is here that the ethnographic account of enthusiasm presented in this paper and elsewhere, for example works by Dannefer on vintage car culture, Moorhouse on American hot-rodding and Fuller on modified-car culture in Australia, can shed light on the subject. My own ethnographic study of groups with a passion for telecommunications heritage, early British computers and industrial archaeology takes the discussion of “technology enthusiasm” further still. Through in-depth interviews, observation and textual analysis, I have examined in detail the formation of enthusiast societies and their membership, the importance of the material record to enthusiasts (particularly at home) and the enthusiastic practices of collecting and hoarding, as well as the figure of the technology enthusiast in the public space of the museum, namely the Science Museum in London (Geoghegan). In this paper, I explore the culture of enthusiasm for the industrial past through the example of the Greater London Industrial Archaeology Society (GLIAS). Focusing on industrial sites around London, GLIAS meet five or six times a year for field visits, walks and a treasure hunt. The committee maintain a website and produce a quarterly newsletter. The title of my paper, “If you can walk down the street and recognise the difference between cast iron and wrought iron, the world is altogether a better place,” comes from an interview I conducted with the co-founder and present chairman of GLIAS. He was telling me about his fascination with the materials of industrialisation. In fact, he said even concrete is sexy. Some call it a hobby; others call it a disease. But enthusiasm for industrial archaeology is, as several respondents have themselves identified, “as insidious in its side effects as any debilitating germ. It dictates your lifestyle, organises your activity and decides who your friends are” (Frow and Frow 177, Gillespie et al.). Through the figure of the industrial archaeology enthusiast, I discuss in this paper what it means to be enthusiastic. I begin by reflecting on the development of this specialist subject area. I go on to detail the formation of the Society in the late 1960s, before exploring the Society’s fieldwork methods and some of the other activities they now engage in. I raise questions of enthusiast and professional knowledge and practice, as well as consider the future of this particular enthusiasm.Defining Industrial ArchaeologyThe practice of 'industrial archaeology' is much contested. For a long time, enthusiasts and professional archaeologists have debated the meaning and use of the term (Palmer). On the one hand, there are those interested in the history, preservation, and recording of industrial sites. For example the grandfather figures of the subject, namely Kenneth Hudson and Angus Buchanan, who both published widely in the 1960s and 1970s in order to encourage publics to get involved in recording. Many members of GLIAS refer to the books of Hudson Industrial Archaeology: an Introduction and Buchanan Industrial Archaeology in Britain with their fine descriptions and photographs as integral to their early interest in the subject. On the other hand, there are those within the academic discipline of archaeology who consider the study of remains produced by the Industrial Revolution as too modern. Moreover, they find the activities of those calling themselves industrial archaeologists as lacking sufficient attention to the understanding of past human activity to justify the name. As a result, the definition of 'industrial archaeology' is problematic for both enthusiasts and professionals. Even the early advocates of professional industrial archaeology felt uneasy about the subject’s methods and practices. In 1973, Philip Riden (described by one GLIAS member as the angry young man of industrial archaeology), the then president of the Oxford University Archaeology Society, wrote a damning article in Antiquity, calling for the subject to “shed the amateur train drivers and others who are not part of archaeology” (215-216). He decried the “appallingly low standard of some of the work done under the name of ‘industrial archaeology’” (211). He felt that if enthusiasts did not attempt to maintain high technical standards, publish their work in journals or back up their fieldwork with documentary investigation or join their county archaeological societies then there was no value in the efforts of these amateurs. During this period, enthusiasts, academics, and professionals were divided. What was wrong with doing something for the pleasure it provides the participant?Although relations today between the so-called amateur (enthusiast) and professional archaeologies are less potent, some prejudice remains. Describing them as “barrow boys”, some enthusiasts suggest that what was once their much-loved pastime has been “hijacked” by professional archaeologists who, according to one respondent,are desperate to find subjects to get degrees in. So the whole thing has been hijacked by academia as it were. Traditional professional archaeologists in London at least are running head on into things that we have been doing for decades and they still don’t appreciate that this is what we do. A lot of assessments are handed out to professional archaeology teams who don’t necessarily have any knowledge of industrial archaeology. (James, GLIAS committee member)James went on to reveal that GLIAS receives numerous enquiries from professional archaeologists, developers and town planners asking what they know about particular sites across the city. Although the Society has compiled a detailed database covering some areas of London, it is by no means comprehensive. In addition, many active members often record and monitor sites in London for their own personal enjoyment. This leaves many questioning the need to publish their results for the gain of third parties. Canadian sociologist Stebbins discusses this situation in his research on “serious leisure”. He has worked extensively with amateur archaeologists in order to understand their approach to their leisure activity. He argues that amateurs are “neither dabblers who approach the activity with little commitment or seriousness, nor professionals who make a living from that activity” (55). Rather they pursue their chosen leisure activity to professional standards. A point echoed by Fine in his study of the cultures of mushrooming. But this is to get ahead of myself. How did GLIAS begin?GLIAS: The GroupThe 1960s have been described by respondents as a frantic period of “running around like headless chickens.” Enthusiasts of London’s industrial archaeology were witnessing incredible changes to the city’s industrial landscape. Individuals and groups like the Thames Basin Archaeology Observers Group were recording what they could. Dashing around London taking photos to capture London’s industrial legacy before it was lost forever. However the final straw for many, in London at least, was the proposed and subsequent demolition of the “Euston Arch”. The Doric portico at Euston Station was completed in 1838 and stood as a symbol to the glory of railway travel. Despite strong protests from amenity societies, this Victorian symbol of progress was finally pulled down by British Railways in 1962 in order to make way for what enthusiasts have called a “monstrous concrete box”.In response to these changes, GLIAS was founded in 1968 by two engineers and a locomotive driver over afternoon tea in a suburban living room in Woodford, North-East London. They held their first meeting one Sunday afternoon in December at the Science Museum in London and attracted over 130 people. Firing the imagination of potential members with an exhibition of photographs of the industrial landscape taken by Eric de Maré, GLIAS’s first meeting was a success. Bringing together like-minded people who are motivated and enthusiastic about the subject, GLIAS currently has over 600 members in the London area and beyond. This makes it the largest industrial archaeology society in the UK and perhaps Europe. Drawing some of its membership from a series of evening classes hosted by various members of the Society’s committee, GLIAS initially had a quasi-academic approach. Although some preferred the hands-on practical element and were more, as has been described by one respondent, “your free-range enthusiast”. The society has an active committee, produces a newsletter and journal, as well as runs regular events for members. However the Society is not simply about the study of London’s industrial heritage, over time the interest in industrial archaeology has developed for some members into long-term friendships. Sociability is central to organised leisure activities. It underpins and supports the performance of enthusiasm in groups and societies. For Fine, sociability does not always equal friendship, but it is the state from which people might become friends. Some GLIAS members have taken this one step further: there have even been a couple of marriages. Although not the subject of my paper, technical culture is heavily gendered. Industrial archaeology is a rare exception attracting a mixture of male and female participants, usually retired husband and wife teams.Doing Industrial Archaeology: GLIAS’s Method and PracticeIn what has been described as GLIAS’s heyday, namely the 1970s to early 1980s, fieldwork was fundamental to the Society’s activities. The Society’s approach to fieldwork during this period was much the same as the one described by champion of industrial archaeology Arthur Raistrick in 1973:photographing, measuring, describing, and so far as possible documenting buildings, engines, machinery, lines of communication, still or recently in use, providing a satisfactory record for the future before the object may become obsolete or be demolished. (13)In the early years of GLIAS and thanks to the committed efforts of two active Society members, recording parties were organised for extended lunch hours and weekends. The majority of this early fieldwork took place at the St Katherine Docks. The Docks were constructed in the 1820s by Thomas Telford. They became home to the world’s greatest concentration of portable wealth. Here GLIAS members learnt and employed practical (also professional) skills, such as measuring, triangulations and use of a “dumpy level”. For many members this was an incredibly exciting time. It was a chance to gain hands-on experience of industrial archaeology. Having been left derelict for many years, the Docks have since been redeveloped as part of the Docklands regeneration project.At this time the Society was also compiling data for what has become known to members as “The GLIAS Book”. The book was to have separate chapters on the various industrial histories of London with contributions from Society members about specific sites. Sadly the book’s editor died and the project lost impetus. Several years ago, the committee managed to digitise the data collected for the book and began to compile a database. However, the GLIAS database has been beset by problems. Firstly, there are often questions of consistency and coherence. There is a standard datasheet for recording industrial buildings – the Index Record for Industrial Sites. However, the quality of each record is different because of the experience level of the different authors. Some authors are automatically identified as good or expert record keepers. Secondly, getting access to the database in order to upload the information has proved difficult. As one of the respondents put it: “like all computer babies [the creator of the database], is finding it hard to give birth” (Sally, GLIAS member). As we have learnt enthusiasm is integral to movements such as industrial archaeology – public historian Raphael Samuel described them as the “invisible hands” of historical enquiry. Yet, it is this very enthusiasm that has the potential to jeopardise projects such as the GLIAS book. Although active in their recording practices, the GLIAS book saga reflects one of the challenges encountered by enthusiast groups and societies. In common with other researchers studying amenity societies, such as Ellis and Waterton’s work with amateur naturalists, unlike the world of work where people are paid to complete a task and are therefore meant to have a singular sense of purpose, the activities of an enthusiast group like GLIAS rely on the goodwill of their members to volunteer their time, energy and expertise. When this is lost for whatever reason, there is no requirement for any other member to take up that position. As such, levels of commitment vary between enthusiasts and can lead to the aforementioned difficulties, such as disputes between group members, the occasional miscommunication of ideas and an over-enthusiasm for some parts of the task in hand. On top of this, GLIAS and societies like it are confronted with changing health and safety policies and tightened security surrounding industrial sites. This has made the practical side of industrial archaeology increasingly difficult. As GLIAS member Bob explains:For me to go on site now I have to wear site boots and borrow a hard hat and a high visibility jacket. Now we used to do incredibly dangerous things in the seventies and nobody batted an eyelid. You know we were exploring derelict buildings, which you are virtually not allowed in now because the floor might give way. Again the world has changed a lot there. GLIAS: TodayGLIAS members continue to record sites across London. Some members are currently surveying the site chosen as the location of the Olympic Games in London in 2012 – the Lower Lea Valley. They describe their activities at this site as “rescue archaeology”. GLIAS members are working against the clock and some important structures have already been demolished. They only have time to complete a quick flash survey. Armed with the information they collated in previous years, GLIAS is currently in discussions with the developer to orchestrate a detailed recording of the site. It is important to note here that GLIAS members are less interested in campaigning for the preservation of a site or building, they appreciate that sites must change. Instead they want to ensure that large swathes of industrial London are not lost without a trace. Some members regard this as their public duty.Restricted by health and safety mandates and access disputes, GLIAS has had to adapt. The majority of practical recording sessions have given way to guided walks in the summer and public lectures in the winter. Some respondents have identified a difference between those members who call themselves “industrial archaeologists” and those who are just “ordinary members” of GLIAS. The walks are for those with a general interest, not serious members, and the talks are public lectures. Some audience researchers have used Bourdieu’s metaphor of “capital” to describe the experience, knowledge and skill required to be a fan, clubber or enthusiast. For Hills, fan status is built up through the demonstration of cultural capital: “where fans share a common interest while also competing over fan knowledge, access to the object of fandom, and status” (46). A clear membership hierarchy can be seen within GLIAS based on levels of experience, knowledge and practical skill.With a membership of over 600 and rising annually, the Society’s future is secure at present. However some of the more serious members, although retaining their membership, are pursuing their enthusiasm elsewhere: through break-away recording groups in London; active membership of other groups and societies, for example the national Association for Industrial Archaeology; as well as heading off to North Wales in the summer for practical, hands-on industrial archaeology in Snowdonia’s slate quarries – described in the Ffestiniog Railway Journal as the “annual convention of slate nutters.” ConclusionsGLIAS has changed since its foundation in the late 1960s. Its operation has been complicated by questions of health and safety, site access, an ageing membership, and the constant changes to London’s industrial archaeology. Previously rejected by professional industrial archaeology as “limited in skill and resources” (Riden), enthusiasts are now approached by professional archaeologists, developers, planners and even museums that are interested in engaging in knowledge exchange programmes. As a recent report from the British think-tank Demos has argued, enthusiasts or pro-ams – “amateurs who work to professional standards” (Leadbeater and Miller 12) – are integral to future innovation and creativity; for example computer pro-ams developed an operating system to rival Microsoft Windows. As such the specialist knowledge, skill and practice of these communities is of increasing interest to policymakers, practitioners, and business. So, the subject once described as “the ugly offspring of two parents that shouldn’t have been allowed to breed” (Hudson), the so-called “amateur” industrial archaeology offers enthusiasts and professionals alike alternative ways of knowing, seeing and being in the recent and contemporary past.Through the case study of GLIAS, I have described what it means to be enthusiastic about industrial archaeology. I have introduced a culture of collective and individual participation and friendship based on a mutual interest in and emotional attachment to industrial sites. As we have learnt in this paper, enthusiasm is about fun, pleasure and joy. The enthusiastic culture presented here advances themes such as passion in relation to less obvious communities of knowing, skilled practices, material artefacts and spaces of knowledge. Moreover, this paper has been about the affective narratives that are sometimes missing from academic accounts; overlooked for fear of sniggers at the back of a conference hall. Laughter and humour are a large part of what enthusiasm is. Enthusiastic cultures then are about the pleasure and joy experienced in doing things. Enthusiasm is clearly a potent force for active participation. I will leave the last word to GLIAS member John:One meaning of enthusiasm is as a form of possession, madness. Obsession perhaps rather than possession, which I think is entirely true. It is a pejorative term probably. The railway enthusiast. But an awful lot of energy goes into what they do and achieve. Enthusiasm to my mind is an essential ingredient. If you are not a person who can muster enthusiasm, it is very difficult, I think, to get anything out of it. On the basis of the more you put in the more you get out. 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