Journal articles on the topic 'Italians Australia Intellectual life'

Accounting historiography has often paid attention to individuals for their pivotal roles in the development of accounting practice and thought; however, little is known about individuals using accounting outside the traditional professional domain. This study explores the use of accounting calculations by a non-professional accountant, the intellectual Melchiorre Peccenini, who advocated his utopian project of an Italian colony in Australia in a book published in Melbourne. By analysing his life and context, as well as his writings and use of calculations, the article reveals how accounting was embedded in the intellectual discourse of an individual and became an advocating device. With its results, this investigation contributes to the accounting biography tradition by extending its boundaries to include ordinary individuals who can provide new insights into accounting as a multi-purpose device.

Differences in academic achievement have been noted in children from various ethnic backgrounds. In Australia, differences in educational attainment between Anglo-Australian and Italian students have been documented, Italian students performing more poorly. Since the influence of environmental factors on students' achievement is well supported in the literature, the present study compared the family environments of Anglo-Australians ( n = 25), Italian-Australians ( n = 29), and Southern Italians ( n = 29) via administration of the Family Environment Scale to mothers. Significant differences were found, the Anglo-Australian sample scoring higher on the Active-Recreational subscale and lower on the Organisation subscale than both Italian groups. Differences between the Anglo-Australian and Southern Italian groups showed the Anglo-Australians scoring significantly lower on the Achievement Orientation subscale and higher on the Intellectual-Cultural Orientation subscale. There were no significant differences between the Italian groups. These findings suggest preservation of Italian cultural values within Australian society, which may contribute to a restriction of learning opportunities for Italian children and possibly affect their educational achievements in later years.

It is a deep honor for me to be invited to Australia. When I received the invitation, I faced a very ambivalent situation. I had resolved to bring my life into some form of sanity and to reduce the amount of traveling that I was doing; but to receive an invitation to Australia, even though I had been here three times before, was to me an opportunity that I could not pass. Australia is a beautiful country and contains a beautiful people, and I thank you for inviting me.My subject is “Curriculum for the Intellectually Handicapped,” and in an hour and one-quarter there is no way in which I can possibly cover the range of handicapping conditions, requirements, and needs for such a curriculum. I have, however, selected some areas that I should like to discuss.

ObjectiveTo describe the cause of death together with emergency department presentations and hospital admissions in the last year of life of people with intellectual disability.MethodA retrospective matched cohort study using de-identified linked data of people aged 20 years or over, with and without intellectual disability who died during 2009 to 2013 in Western Australia. Emergency department presentations and hospital admissions in the last year of life of people with intellectual disability are described along with cause of death.ResultsOf the 63 508 deaths in Western Australia from 2009 to 2013, there were 591 (0.93%) decedents with a history of intellectual disability. Decedents with intellectual disability tended to be younger, lived in areas of more social disadvantage, did not have a partner and were Australian born compared with all other decedents. A matched comparison cohort of decedents without intellectual disability (n=29 713) was identified from the general population to improve covariate balance.Decedents with intellectual disability attended emergency departments more frequently than the matched cohort (mean visits 3.2 vs 2.5) and on average were admitted to hospital less frequently (mean admissions 4.1 vs 6.1), but once admitted stayed longer (average length of stay 5.2 days vs 4.3 days). People with intellectual disability had increased odds of presentation, admission or death from conditions that have been defined as ambulatory care sensitive and are potentially preventable. These included vaccine-preventable respiratory disease, asthma, cellulitis and convulsions and epilepsy.ConclusionPeople with intellectual disability were more likely to experience potentially preventable conditions at the end of their lives. This indicates a need for further improvements in access, quality and coordination of healthcare to provide optimal health for this group.

Journalism is important to public life: it helps to define public life and mediate debate about it through all its forms, from tabloid press to high-quality broadsheets, and news and current affairs programs. And while many scholars debate the vagaries of which theoretical approach best explains the media, the Public Journalism movement in the United States and Australia is an example of how theory can impact on the practice of journalism. Merritt (1996) describes Public Journalism as an ‘intellectual journey’. This paper develops that notion and reflects on how this kind of innovation can be an exemplar to media theorists and practitioners, as well as on how their respective traditions and critiques can evolve an new industry paradigm, designed to bring together the key stakeholders in public policy formulation: the media, political organisations and a range of community groups. The paper reviews Public Journalism as a movement from its origins in the late 1980s in the United States, refers to American examples of Public Journalism and details how readers, audiences, editors, community groups and political organisations have reacted to this news approach to doing journalism.

This article argues that, although we think of Australian tribal ritual as Durkheim’s source material for his masterwork The Elementary Forms of Religious Life, we must also consider the extensive Indological scholarship on which he draws – and with which he debates – as critical inspirations for the text. His extensive engagement with his nephew, Marcel Mauss, whose earlier work, Sacrifice, with Henri Hubert, was premised on an analysis of Vedic ritual, would have been one source for his study of religion writ large; Elementary Forms also takes up in detail the work of Max Müller, among other Indologists, whose work was well known and widely engaged with in the French and broader European intellectual context of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. This article argues that the Indological comparative lens was key to Durkheim’s own approach as he worked to articulate the relationship between religion and society; in contrast to the philologists, he argued for the primacy of practice over language in ritual action.

In the Post-WWII period, while industrial production in Italy had diminished and millions of people were unemployed, Australia was facing the opposite problem of shortage of labour, due to a rapid agricultural and industrial development. By virtue of the immigration policy adopted by the Australian government in the 1950s, assistance with the cost of migration to Australia was provided to those Italians willing to migrate to Australia. Italian migrants, as well as diverse migrant groups, brought with them cultural practices and a way of life, which are nowadays part of the multicultural Australian built environment and society. This research study focuses on the domestic dwellings built in the late 1980s and early 1990s in Brisbane by the Italian migrants. Namely, it is argued that the façade of migrants’ houses is embedded by cultural meanings. The study is of qualitative nature and as primary sources of data uses (1) semi-structured interviews, (2) photo-elicitation interviews and (3) focus group discussion, which were conducted both in Australia with twenty first-generation Italian migrants, and in Italy with ten informants, indigenous to the Veneto region, where they built their homes. Visual data about the houses was collected with (4) photographs and drawings. The findings reveal that Italian houses are concurrently a physical structure and a set of meanings based on culture: these two components are tied together rather than being separate and distinct. Namely, the Veneto migrants chose two models for the construction of their houses in Brisbane: (1) the rural houses built in the 1970s and 1980s by their ancestors (2) and the villas designed by Andrea Palladio in the 15th century in the Veneto region for noble families.

This article examines the impact on Australia of population movements in the Asia-Pacific region since 1945, with special reference to the period since 1975 that marked the termination of the restrictive ‘White Australia Policy.’ That policy, which had its origins in racist theories popular at the end of the nineteenth century, isolated Australia from its immediate region and kept it tied to its European and, more specifically, British origins. The impact of population, trade and capital movements in the region has been such as to make Australia ‘part of Asia.’ Nevertheless, public opinion has yet to accept these changes fully, especially when they involve changing the ethnic character of the resident population. It is concluded that the generation which has grown up since 1945 and which is now starting to dominate politics and intellectual life will find it easier to reorient Australia than did the previous generation, despite continuing ambivalence in public attitudes. The presence in Australia of large numbers of permanent residents and citizens of Asian origin is a necessary factor in expediting change.

This paper aims to examine the position of ummah while Muslims are living as minority in Australia. This paper argues that Australia as a secular and multicultural state has supported the development of ummah. There are some reasons to deal with this argument: first, the state consistently protects, respects and fulfils the right to the freedom of religion of all citizens because it ratified some international human rights documents; second, the state administrators have shown their professionalism in their daily life activity in terms of implementing the state law enforcement; third, although there are minor cases of religious discrimination that have been imposed by a minority group of fundamentalist Christian, they can be mitigated through the larger involvements of Muslims in the process of social development such as organising interreligious dialogues, discussions on religious tolerance, which significantly has been conditioned by the societal context of multiculturalism in Australia; fourth, a Muslim intellectual in Australia is totally pro-human rights.

This article examines the intellectual and ecclesiastical baggage which W. G. Broughton brought with him when he came to New South Wales as Archdeacon in 1829 by tracing Broughton's early life and education, his early ministry and scholarly writings, and identifying Broughton's circle of friends in the Church of England. The travel diary which Broughton kept on his journey to New South Wales is examined for his estimate of the books he read while on ship. Broughton emerges from this study as a person of considerable scholarly talent, and a member of the old High Church group by both theological, and political conviction as well as personal friendships.

The current generation of young Italians leaving education have never entered the labour market with more years of schooling and higher levels of academic certifications as now. Nevertheless, they are losing out in the struggle for employment. It is a paradox experienced not only across Europe and poses questions about whether young people are being trained efficiently for twenty-first century employment. Nowadays employers require that young people possess skills-oriented learning that emphasises adaptability and preparedness for change. Italian Education systems, however, have not been responsive in this way. The intergenerational education approach may be an effective method for covering the mismatch between provided education and competences required on the labour market. Experienced older entrepreneurs may give young people Not in Employment, Education, or Training (NEETs) the confidence and intellectual resources to deal with the problems they will encounter through professional life, creating new spaces of autonomy and responsibility. Two focus-groups and questionnaires with 15 NEETs and 15 qualitative interviews and questionnaires to 50+ entrepreneurs were carried out in five European countries, Italy included, to understand how an entrepreneur could help youth to start their own business. Results from Italy demonstrate that to spread a culture of entrepreneurship, senior entrepreneurs are required to strengthen NEETs’ confidence, initiative and courage, the ability to take risks and to invest in the future. Considering Lev Vygotsky’s cognitive and social development theory as applied to intergenerational learning seniors need to act as a trigger to promote NEETs’ entrepreneurial attitudes, capabilities and aspirations for life. Keywords: active participation, intergenerational entrepreneurship education, NEETs, senior entrepreneurs, social inclusion.

Muslims believe that shari’a is God’s law or a divinely revealed law. In Islamic tradition shari’a covers the physical, intellectual, and spiritual needs of human life and comprises a composite of rules of conduct and forms a source of complete guidance towards the right path – siraat al mustaqeem – for the entire humanity. Islam as a complete way of life demands its adherents to follow and carry out the injunctions of the shari’a in all aspects of life. However, Muslims in Australia are a part of a modern secular nation-state which operates under common law system and its constitution demands a separation of church and state. It is in this context this paper sociologically examines the understanding and application of shari’a in Muslim everyday living. It posits that despite the secular nature of Australian state, Muslims are able to implement shari’a in their everyday-living as it is an essential source of guidance for them and forms the basis of being a “good” Muslim. Muslims don’t demand the constitutionalization of shari’a but a wider recognition of it in Australia as it continues to be important and the foundation of their religion, their mode of existence, and ethico-moral structure.

Social inclusion for people with disability is bound up with experiences of place in everyday life. In Australia, the inclusion agenda has been recently propelled by the National Disability Insurance Scheme which promotes – and funds – the full inclusion of people with disability so that their lives are conducted in everyday settings. This article addresses what lies between the aspirational policy principles of full inclusion and the experience of family life with a young child who has Down syndrome. Through auto-ethnographic inquiry, a series of vignettes describe my own encounters in everyday places such as shops, childcare centres and public swimming pools. I focus on ‘sense of place’ which is generated through everyday practices and can shape individual identity and belonging. Using ideas from feminist poststructuralism and critical disability studies, I argue that ableist discourses on disability are produced by people in everyday places through their attitudes, actions and expectations, disrupting regular family life and imposing oppressive modes of subjectivity upon children with intellectual disability and their parent-carers. In response, parents of children with intellectual disability are challenged to undertake the political labour of everyday disability advocacy. It is important for social work to recognise that this labour can become a significant part of the contemporary parent-carer role.

The subject of this research, dedicated to mental characteristics of the world of Yakut emigration of 1917 – 1940, is the history of Yakut emigration on the example of life of the active participant in the anti-Bolshevik movement in the northeast of Russia, who fought for the alternative path of development in the XX century and the Yakut emigrant Asklefeodot Afanasyevich Ryazansky (1898 – 1968). The object of this research is the history of Russian emigration. Historical-biographical method is applies in the course of this work. The article analyzes the adaptation of the Yakut emigrant in the context of impact of external factors in China and Australia, as well as his political views. The scientific novelty is defined by the fact that the topic of Yakut emigration and “Yakut world” did not receive due coverage within the Russian historical science, although it is an important scientific problem that requires comprehensive examination on the background of Revolution of 1917 and Russian Civil war in the context of world history. The conclusion is made that along with majority of Russian emigrants of the first wave, A. A Ryazansky struggled for survival in the new conditions abroad and was able to adjust to foreign cultural environment, having become a prominent journalist in China, and later the owner of marine company in Australia. Ryazansky saw the future of his homeland (Russia) as a democratic federative state with guaranteed preservation of ethnocultural identity of the indigenous peoples of Yakutia with the possibility of receiving education.

Purpose The purpose of this paper is to summarise the initial experiences of Australia’s National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS). It highlights some of the main challenges being faced by participants, service providers and government, and demonstrates how research can contribute to the ongoing implementation and success of the scheme. Design/methodology/approach The historical basis for the need for a new approach to disability funding in Australia is explored. The opportunities that exist and the difficulties that are being encountered by those entering and working within the new scheme are discussed. Findings Several problems were identified including difficult transitions between existing support frameworks to new “NDIS plans”, and the risk of market failure. Both the problems and their solutions are discussed and it is hoped that collaboration between the Commonwealth Government, service users, their families, service providers and universities can lead to a number of lasting improvements. Practical implications The new funding framework provides exciting opportunities for increasing the funding of people with intellectual and physical disabilities in Australia. Developments in technology, service provision in rural and remote areas and the opportunity to meet aspirational life goals exist alongside a number of challenges, including the need to ensure that those with multiple and complex disabilities retain existing levels of support. Originality/value The implementation of the NDIS is still underway, and opportunities exist to implement changes to the scheme where required. Research findings have an important role to play in the national debate regarding how best to improve quality of life for people with a disability in Australia.

Different classes of people have raised moral objections on a number of times against granting patents on living organisms. There has been a recent focus on patents partly because the corporate world is only concerned with economic returns and the market prospect of a genetic product. The purpose of this article is to revisit the debate on the patent of genetic engineering technologies and provide partial recommendations on rationalising patent protection while mitigating moral arguments. This article re-examines the intellectual property frameworks as well as case laws regarding biological materials in selected countries i.e., Europe, the United States of America, Australia, Malaysia, and under international agreements such as the WTO Agreement on Trade-Related Aspects of Intellectual Property Rights (TRIPS). This article is based on primary as well as secondary materials that have been written on the patent of life forms and genetic research. There is an inconsistency between philosophical principles and the implementation of biotechnology patents due to the existing economic, political, and ideological conditions among countries, along with existing divergences in the field of genetically engineered technologies. Hence, during such circumstances, the most coherent position is to proceed with vigilance as it is not possible to shut down bio-industrialisation. One such vigilant pathway in the presence of contemporary evidence to minimise commercialisation of life science creations. Patents of genetically engineered products should be strictly monitored to fulfil commitment towards international human rights, which is to provide reasonably priced healthcare and medical treatment.

While studies investigating factors associated with carer burden suggest that intellectual impairment and behavioural disturbance in the care recipient are more demanding for the carer than physical impairment, comparative research findings are equivocal. Family carers of people with a long-term illness or disability were identified through a survey of 26,000 households in Victoria, Australia. Focusing on carers of those aged over 50 years, three subsamples were selected: 186 carers of relatives with physical impairment only, 182 carers of those with diagnosed memory loss and 117 carers of those with intellectual impairment diagnosed as dementia. Carers of physically impaired relatives reported better health, greater life satisfaction, and less overload, negative affect, family conflict, anger and resentment than carers of those with intellectual impairment, whether labelled as dementia or not. Despite lower impairment levels in the care recipient, carers of those with undiagnosed memory loss reported more resentment about their caring role than carers of those with a diagnosed dementia. The effects on the carer of significantly greater impairment in the dementia care recipient group may be ameliorated by having a diagnosis, bringing with it the potential for increased understanding and tolerance. Fortunately, negative feelings predictive of a sense of burden are subject to a range of interventions: providing information to promote understanding; counselling to tackle negative feelings and family conflict; guidelines to deal with behaviour problems and physical aspects of caring; and community services to reduce overload.

Purpose – Developed economies with high-cost environments face industrial transitions from scale-based manufacturing (MAN) to knowledge, technology and intangible asset-based sectors. The purpose of this paper is to examine the changes in employment and value-adding profiles of transitioning industry sectors in Australia and discuss the implications for policy that influences the intellectual capital (IC) profile of industrial sectors in transition. Design/methodology/approach – The approach borrowed concepts from the firm-level strategic management literature and applied them to a macro level of industry analysis. In this paper the authors examine the transitions in the Australian economy which, due to a rising cost base, is experiencing a decline in its value chain-oriented MAN sector. The authors contrast four industry sectors with the MAN sector and examine the different value creation models. Findings – The findings clearly show how the contribution to employment and value added (termed Economic Value Contribution ) of the different sectors vary. The authors extend these findings to a discussion on policy and the dimensions of IC that may have a role to play in facilitating transitions within an economy. The main conclusion is that a more rapid transition and higher value may be created if innovation and entrepreneurship are facilitated by targeted policies in transitioning sector. Research limitations/implications – This work is based on a single country analysis of selected industry sectors. Further work needs to be done across many more countries to contrast the findings across nations/regions that differ in industrial complexity and to refine the analytical framework to improve construct validity and increase analytical power. Practical implications – This work has implications for policy-makers facing the challenges of a transitioning economy, whether national or regional. Governments that are hands-on with respect to interventions to salvage and/or extend the life of sectors are at risk of missing opportunities to build the capacities and capabilities of emerging sectors while those governments that are hands-off, deferring to market mechanisms, risk transitions that are too little and/or too late to maintain a national or regional competitiveness. Originality/value – To the authors knowledge, this is the first attempt to integrate the specific firm-level strategic management perspectives, used in this paper, with the macro-policy level to examine industry sectors with the twin metrics of economic productivity and employment in transitioning economies.

Traditional languages are a key element of Indigenous peoples’ identity, cultural expression, autonomy, spiritual and intellectual sovereignty, and wellbeing. While the links between Indigenous language loss and poor mental health have been demonstrated in several settings, little research has sought to identify the potential psychological benefits that may derive from language reclamation. The revival of the Barngarla language on the Eyre Peninsula, South Australia, offers a unique opportunity to examine whether improvements in mental health and social and emotional wellbeing can occur during and following the language reclamation process. This paper presents findings from 16 semi-structured interviews conducted with Barngarla community members describing their own experienced or observed mental health and wellbeing impacts of language reclamation activities. Aligning with a social and emotional wellbeing framework from an Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander perspective, key themes included connection to spirituality and ancestors; connection to Country; connection to culture; connection to community; connection to family and kinship; connection to mind and emotions; and impacts upon identity and cultural pride at an individual level. These themes will form the foundation of assessment of the impacts of language reclamation in future stages of the project.

AbstractStudents with autism and intellectual disabilities experience many transitions during their schooling, and a large body of literature is devoted to best practices in transition planning and support. The Taxonomy for Transition Programming 2.0 is a research-based model that provides best practice suggestions to guide the planning of various transitions and contexts. The researchers aimed to use the current qualitative study to discover the transition planning practices used to support students with autism and intellectual disabilities in inclusive school settings when transitioning from primary to secondary schools and from secondary school to postschool life in New South Wales (Australia). The practices that emerged were then examined for alignment with the Taxonomy for Transition Programming 2.0. The inductive content analysis of interviews with 8 parents and 13 teachers indicated that although most of the areas of the Taxonomy are represented in the planning processes, there is room for improvement, particularly in the areas of formal individual education program and transition planning, student involvement, information sharing, and program assessment. The results highlighted the importance of formal student- and family-centred planning processes to the success of both transitions. The results were used to make further recommendations for future research, policy, and practice.

AbstractThe broad brush strokes of Dorothy Cottrell's paintings in the National Library of Australia mark her as a modernist artist, although not one who painted the burgeoning Sydney Harbour Bridge or bright still-life paintings of Australian flora. Rather, she captured the dun surrounds of Ularunda Station, the remote Queensland property to which she moved in 1920 after attending art school in Sydney. At Ularunda, Cottrell eloped with the bookkeeper to Dunk Island, where they stayed with nature writer E.J. Banfield, then relocated to Sydney. In 1924 they returned to Ularunda and Cottrell swapped her paintbrush for a pen, writing The Singing Gold. After advice from Mary Gilmore, whom her mother accosted in a pub, Cottrell send it to the Ladies Home Journal in America. It was snapped up immediately, optioned for a film and found a publisher in England, who described it as ‘a great Australian book, and a world book’. Gilmore added, ‘As an advertisement for Australia, it will go far — the Ladies Home Journal is read all over the world’. Cottrell herself also went far, emigrating to America, where she wrote The Silent Reefs, set in the Caribbean. Cottrell's creative, intellectual and physical peregrinations — all undertaken in a wheelchair after she contracted polio at age five — show how the local references the international, and vice versa. Through an analysis of the life and writing of this now little-known Queensland author, this essay reflects the regional and transnational elements of modernism as outlined in Neal Alexander and James Moran's Regional Modernisms, illuminating how a crack-shot with a rifle once took Queensland to the world.

Objective The aim of the present study was to explore the use of complementary consent methodologies to support a potentially vulnerable group of people, namely those aging with intellectual disability, to provide personal input. It was premised on the view that processes to determine capacity for consent, appropriately modified to account for individual capabilities and current circumstances, could facilitate meaningful participation in the development of personal health care plans of people previously excluded from contributing. Methods The present descriptive case study research was undertaken in New South Wales, Australia. A seven-step process for determining capacity for consent was developed, and 10 participants aged between 54 and 73 years with lifelong intellectual disability and health comorbidities were involved. A variety of assistive communication tools was used to support individuals to demonstrate their capacity for giving informed consent. Results After being provided with tailored support mechanisms, seven participants were considered to meet all seven components for determining capacity for consent. Three participants were deemed not to have capacity to give consent regardless of the type of support provided. Conclusions Three critical factors for facilitating personal involvement in decision making for individuals with an intellectual disability were identified: (1) defining consent specifically for the target outcome; (2) outlining the criteria needed for consent to be obtained; and (3) using appropriately modified alternative communication mechanisms as necessary. What is known about the topic? Self-determination is one of the fundamental principles of human rights legislation around the world and, as such, it is considered desirable to have personal input by individuals into the development of their own health care plans. However, this is not always considered feasible if the person comes from a group in the community perceived to be vulnerable to exploitation and viewed as lacking capacity to give informed consent. This results in the use of proxy respondents, who may not accurately represent the desires and life aspirations of the individual. What does this paper add? This paper examines the development and implementation of a targeted program to support individuals aging with lifelong intellectual disability to demonstrate their capacity to provide informed consent. Specifically, it outlines how alternative communications methods, tailored to personal needs and capacity, can assist an individual to both understand and then confirm their understanding of consent in order to participate in developing health care plans. What are the implications for practitioners? People with intellectual disability are now living longer and are increasingly at risk of serious health conditions. The development of long-term health management plans has traditionally not included individuals with more complex needs and moderate intellectual disability, but the present study shows that members of this cohort can successfully understand and consent to participate in health care decision making. By proactively supporting this process, community and healthcare settings may be able to directly facilitate contribution from more individuals, therefore better meeting the goal of person-centred support.

There is virtually no disagreement among educational practitioners, theorists and policy makers on the outcomes they seek for Indigenous students. Their ultimate goal is to maximise the future life choices of the upcoming generation of students in an increasingly globalised world. Balancing mainstream curriculum with Indigenous community cultural knowledge, awareness and protocol is a difficult and, finally an individual matter to be negotiated between the school, each member of its student body and the home community. It is a task which has become increasingly urgent. Queensland - and Australia - can no longer afford the incalculable waste of intellectual and cultural capital and the dilution of participatory democracy which resulted from the pre-1980s requirement that Indigenous people be instructed only in basic literacy and numeracy. As Martin Nakata writes in this issue, "English literacy and understanding the world beyond our communities, beyond our local and cultural context, is as critically important for our future survival as understanding our traditional pathways. Anything that diverts us from the urgency of achieving educational success for future generations should be avoided." Nevertheless, while everyone agrees on the ultimate goal and its urgency, the policies and practices by which the goal is best achieved are, quite properly, a matter of contestation.

IntroductionInvasive meningococcal disease (IMD) primarily causes disease in young children and adolescents and can cause long-term disability. Many countries are considering implementation of meningococcal B and/or meningococcal ACWY vaccines to control meningococcal disease. Estimating the cost-effectiveness of meningococcal vaccine programme is hampered due to a lack of good quality costing and burden of disease data. This study aims to address this evidence gap by assessing the clinical, physical, neurocognitive, economic and societal impact of IMD on adolescents and young adults.Methods and analysisA case–control study of 64 participants with confirmed IMD (15–24 years 11 months at time of disease) and 64 control participants (17–34 years 11 months) will be conducted in Australia from 2016 to 2020. All participants will undergo a neurocognitive assessment, full medical examination, pure tone audiometry assessment and complete quality of life and behavioural questionnaires. Meningococcal cases will be assessed 2–10 years posthospitalisation and a subset of cases will be interviewed to explore in depth their experiences of IMD and its impact on their life. Primary outcome measures include general intellectual functioning from the Wechsler Adult Intelligence Scale and overall quality of life from the Health Utilities Index. Secondary outcome measures include academic achievement, executive functioning, behaviour, hearing, psychological and physical functioning. Outcome measures will be compared between cases and controls using independent t-tests or ORs, or if any significant confounders are identified, adjusted analyses (analysis of covariance or adjusted ORs) will be conducted. Thematic analysis will be used to analyse transcribed interviews and a costing model will be used to project lifetime costs.Ethics and disseminationThe Adolescent MENingococcal Disease (AMEND) study has been approved by the Human Research Ethics Committee of the Women’s and Children’s Health Network (HREC/14/WCHN/024). The results will be disseminated via peer-reviewed publications, conference presentations, study participants, and meningococcal and meningitis foundations.Trial registration numberNCT03798574.

Nicolas Baudin's 1800–1804 voyage was the only scientific expedition to collect specimens of the dwarf emu (Dromaius ater) endemic to King Island, Bass Strait, Australia. The expedition's naturalist, François Péron, documented the only detailed, contemporaneous description of the life history of the bird, and the artist Charles-Alexandre Lesueur made the only visual record of a living specimen. Hunted to extinction by 1805, the King Island emu remains relatively unfamiliar. It is ironic that a bird collected as part of one of the most ambitious ordering enterprises in early nineteenth-century science – a quest for intellectual empire – has been more or less forgotten. This paper discusses how human error, assumption, imagination and circumstance hampered recognition and understanding of the King Island emu. Poor record-keeping led to the confusion of this species with other taxa, including the Australian emu and a dwarf species restricted to Kangaroo Island, contributing to the epistemological loss of the species. The expedition's agenda was equally influential in the perception and documentation of the species, with consequences for its conservation in the wild. The paper also argues that as a symbolic rather than a scientific record, Lesueur's illustration fostered inaccuracies in later descriptions of the King Island emu, especially when the image was taken out of context, subjected to the vagaries of nineteenth-century printing techniques and reproduced in more recent ornithological literature. Rather than increasing knowledge about this species, the Baudin expedition and its literature contributed, albeit unwittingly, to the King Island emu's textual and literal extinction.

To Recover Liberalism. Review of a book by Andrzej Walicki Od projektu komunistycznego do neoliberalnej utopii (From the Communist Project to the Neoliberal Utopia), Warszawa: Universitas 2013This review discusses a recent book by Andrzej Walicki, Od projektu komunistycznego do neoliberalnej utopii (From the Communist Project to the Neoliberal Utopia) (Warszawa: Universitas 2013). The book features a collection of essays, interviews, and scholarly articles published by Walicki in academic and popular journals between 2001 and 2012. Topics include a history of the communist project in a broader European perspective; the significance and legacy of de-Stalinization in Poland, with a particular emphasis on what the author calls "the Polish road away from communism" after 1956; right-wing conservative politics in Poland after 1989, the politicization of the memory of communism; and possible directions for the development of the Polish Left as a necessary component of a healthy democratic system. The compelling scholarly discussion is often combined with autobiographical sketches of an intellectual who has been deeply engaged in intellectual and social life in postwar Poland. Walicki, a prominent intellectual and specialist on intellectual history, studied and worked in Warsaw until he emigrated to Australia and then the United States (The University of Notre Dame) in the 1980s. In that sense, Walicki provides a unique perspective on Polish history and culture, influenced by both Polish and American academic worlds and intellectual traditions. The strength of the book is its focus on the role of language and the manipulation of terms such as "communism" or "liberalism" by contemporary political leaders in Poland to achieve specific emotional reactions from the public. One of the central claims of the book is that Polish political elites have "distorted" the meaning of liberalism by connecting it solely to the free market rather than to the original idea of individual freedoms. In this way, the dominant conservative elites in Poland are able to depict human rights and the welfare state as alien to the “Polish” tradition, supposedly exclusively Catholic and socially conservative. Walicki points to the need to recover the rich history of the Polish Left as well as to restore the original meaning and value of liberalism in shaping Polish democracy. Odzyskać liberalizm. Recenzja książki Andrzeja Walickiego Od projektu komunistycznego do neoliberalnej utopii, Warszawa: Universitas 2013Recenzja omawia najnowszą książkę Andrzeja Walickiego Od projektu komunistycznego do neoliberalnej utopii (Warszawa: Universitas 2013). Książka to zbiór esejów, wywiadów oraz artykułów naukowych publikowanych przez A. Walickiego zarówno w czasopismach naukowych, jak i popularnych w latach 2001-2012. Tematyka prac dotyczy: historii projektu komunistycznego w szerszej, europejskiej perspektywie; znaczenia i spuścizny destalinizacji w Polsce ze szczególnym naciskiem na to, co sam autor nazywa „polską drogą od komunizmu” po 1956 roku; prawicowej, konserwatywnej polityki w Polsce po roku 1989; polityzacji pamięci komunizmu oraz możliwych dróg rozwoju polskiej lewicy jako niezbędnego elementu zdrowego systemu demokratycznego.Interesująca dyskusja naukowa jest często połączona z autobiograficznymi szkicami autora, który angażował się w życie intelektualne i społeczne powojennej Polski. Andrzej Walicki, prominentny intelektualista i historyk idei, studiował i pracował naukowo na Uniwersytecie Warszawskim do lat osiemdziesiątych, kiedy wyemigrował do Australii, a następnie do USA na Uniwersytet Notre Dame. Z tego punktu widzenia Walicki dostarcza nam wyjątkowego spojrzenia na Polską historię i kulturę, ukształtowanego zarówno przez polską, jak i amerykańską tradycję intelektualną i oba akademickie światy. Siłą książki jest koncentracja autora na roli języka i manipulowaniu terminami takimi, jak „komunizm” czy „liberalizm”, przez współczesnych politycznych liderów w Polsce po to, aby osiągnąć określoną reakcję emocjonalną odbiorców. Jedno z kluczowych twierdzeń książki dotyczy zniekształcenia znaczenia pojęcia „liberalizm” przez polskie elity intelektualne i polityczne poprzez połączenie go wyłącznie z wolnym rynkiem zamiast z oryginalną ideą wolności jednostki. W ten sposób dominujące konserwatywne elity w Polsce są w stanie przedstawić prawa człowieka oraz państwo opiekuńcze jako obce „polskiej” tradycji, z założenia wyłącznie katolickiej i społecznie konserwatywnej. Walicki wskazuje na potrzebę ponownego odkrycia bogatej historii polskiej lewicy, przywrócenia pierwotnych wartości liberalizmowi i odrestaurowania jego znaczenia w kształtowaniu polskiej demokracji.

This is my first issue as senior editor of Theatre Research International. That the journal and I are almost exactly the same age is at once thrilling and a little unsettling. One feels both the weight of tradition, and the sense of mission and possibility that contemporaries can share. Indeed, looking through back issues, I am struck by how integrally TRI has both reflected and driven changes in performance practice and scholarship that I recognize from my own intellectual development. I began my undergraduate studies at Bristol University Drama Department – publisher, from 1959 to 1974, of one of TRI's two precursors, New Theatre Magazine (the other being Theatre Research/Recherches théâtrales). That was in 1992, in the same year an editorial by Claude Schumacher highlighted a reorientation of the journal away from text-based drama towards ‘the theory of theatre practice’. I left the UK to make theatre (and a life) in Singapore in 1996, just as the journal began notably to expand its international scope. And I commenced my PhD on cosmopolitanism and performance in 2001, at the same time as Brian Singleton's overhaul of the journal's structure and focus set the internationalizing standard for the publication that exists today. That year, I made my first trip to Australia, to present on a panel for emerging scholars at a conference of the International Federation for Theatre Research (IFTR, the organization with which this publication is affiliated), hosted by the University of New South Wales. Subsequent conference participation brought me into contact with TRI editors Christopher Balme, Freddie Rokem, Elaine Aston and Charlotte Canning, and, courtesy of the IFTR member's subscription, the material they were publishing.

BackgroundHumans are by nature a social species, with much of human experience spent in social interaction. Unsurprisingly, social functioning is crucial to well-being and quality of life across the lifespan. While early intervention for social problems appears promising, our ability to identify the specific impairments underlying their social problems (eg, social communication) is restricted by a dearth of accurate, ecologically valid and comprehensive child-direct assessment tools. Current tools are largely limited to parent and teacher ratings scales, which may identify social dysfunction, but not its underlying cause, or adult-based experimental tools, which lack age-appropriate norms. The present study describes the development and standardisation of Paediatric Evaluation of Emotions, Relationships, and Socialisation(PEERS®), an iPad-based social skills assessment tool.MethodsThe PEERS project is a cross-sectional study involving two groups: (1) a normative group, recruited from early childhood, primary and secondary schools across metropolitan and regional Victoria, Australia; and (2) a clinical group, ascertained from outpatient services at The Royal Children’s Hospital Melbourne (RCH). The project aims to establish normative data for PEERS®, a novel and comprehensive app-delivered child-direct measure of social skills for children and youth. The project involves recruiting and assessing 1000 children aged 4.0–17.11 years. Assessments consist of an intellectual screen, PEERS® subtests, and PEERS-Q, a self-report questionnaire of social skills. Parents and teachers also complete questionnaires relating to participants’ social skills. Main analyses will comprise regression-based continuous norming, factor analysis and psychometric analysis of PEERS® and PEERS-Q.Ethics and disseminationEthics approval has been obtained through the RCH Human Research Ethics Committee (34046), the Victorian Government Department of Education and Early Childhood Development (002318), and Catholic Education Melbourne (2166). Findings will be disseminated through international conferences and peer-reviewed journals. Following standardisation of PEERS®, the tool will be made commercially available.

Purpose – While ageing with an intellectual (learning) disability has been subject to increased research in recent years, there remains little knowledge regarding the daily practice issues that disability workers struggle most to support in this cohort. The purpose of this paper is to gain feedback directly from staff regarding the problems they experience in daily work, and to evaluate whether any changes to legislation or practice could potentially alleviate identified areas of concern. Design/methodology/approach – A Delphi project was conducted over three rounds with participants from rural areas of New South Wales (NSW). The panel was composed of support workers who assist people ageing with a learning disability. Participants were asked their perceptions of the main practice issues facing them while they provide support. Findings – The panel identified 29 issues that were considered problematic in the provision of support to people ageing with a learning disability. A thematic analysis indicated three main themes of access to services; time constraints; and funding. Research limitations/implications – The participants in this study were all disability workers employed by non-government organisations in rural NSW, and as such, many of the issues identified may be specific to this population cohort and geographic setting. Any generalisation of these results to other locations or populations must be considered within these limitations. Originality/value – Identification of the issues facing disability staff may facilitate government, health care providers and disability organisations to proactively plan to address current and future problem areas. The consequent effect of improving practices can assist individuals to receive better support and lead to a corresponding improvement in their quality of life. The current implementation of the National Disability Insurance Scheme in Australia is an ideal opportunity for cross-sectoral collaboration to change practice to facilitate better support for a highly vulnerable group of the community.

The article analyses new conceptual and methodological trends in teaching Geography in the countries with optimal models of teaching this school subject in order to take into account their experience in the context of the tasks of the New Ukrainian School reform. It clarifies the content and features of the concept of “powerful knowledge of geography”, which can modernize the content of school geography, raise its intellectual prestige and relevance. The knowledge is considered to be “powerful knowledge of geography” when it provides new ways of thinking about the world and is able to change the relationship of young people with the environment; gives students powerful ways to analyze, explain and understand; promotes the formation of critical and independent thinking, develops geographical considerations on how knowledge is created, tested and evaluated; enables young people to follow and participate in discussions on important local, national and global issues; contributes to the understanding of the factors of world diversity. It is necessary to take into account the progressive features of modern geography curricula used in England, Germany, Finland, Japan, Singapore, Australia when developing the geography programs for the New Ukrainian School. These curricula include: 1) general geographical (combination of physical and social geography) and interdisciplinary approach to the knowledge of geospatial phenomena, objects, processes at all stages of learning; 2) emphasis on the ways of human interaction with the environment and the results of this interaction (geography of cultural landscapes, geography for sustainable development); 3) focus in the same course on the territorial objects of different scales (from local to global) as a demonstration of geographical horizontal and vertical causal relationships; 4) geographical critical thinking as a result of learning; 5) mastering geographic information technologies as a resource for life and development; 6) observations and field research as an important component of subject competence. Keywords: didactics of geography, concept of powerful geographical knowledge, geography in the New Ukrainian School.

In the 1940s, the totalitarian occupying regimes of Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union implemented the strictest control and ideological guidance of intellectual and spiritual life of all time in Estonia. Essentially, the mechanisms and results of control are known. Cultural life was subjected to strict pre-censorship and post-publication censorship, and in the Soviet era also to thematic dictation. The intellectual and spiritual resistance of Estonians in those years, in other words their refusal to accept the ruling ideology, has been studied very little. The most widespread way of putting up intellectual and spiritual resistance was to remain silent, in other words to avoid creating works that were agreeable to the authorities. Selective silence, that is the selection of one’s points of emphasis, and splitting, in other words writing for oneself works that one keeps in one’s drawer while at the same time writing for publication in print, are also placed in this category. Recording actual history in diaries through the eyes of contemporaries of events, reading intellectually and spiritually enjoyable literature, and other such actions were ways of putting up intellectual and spiritual resistance. The main objective of this study is to ascertain in historical context the attempts to put up intellectual and spiritual resistance in the comedies from the 1940s by Hugo Raudsepp (1883–1952), one of the most outstanding Estonian playwrights of the 20th century. Ideologically speaking, dramatic literature was clearly one of the most vulnerable branches of literature. It was created for public presentation in theatres, after all, for which reason authors had to be particularly careful in their wording. On the other hand, plays provided both authors and directors with opportunities to conceal messages between the lines. For this reason, theatre became exceedingly popular in Estonia by the final decades of the Soviet era. The ridicule and mocking of the Soviet regime were especially enjoyed. The subjugation of Estonian intellectual and spiritual life to the ideological requirements of the occupying regime was launched at the time of pre-war Stalinism (1940–1941). Its aim was to rear Soviet-minded people who would help to justify, fortify and enhance the Soviet regime. The systematic control of the activities of creative persons and the working out of dictates and regulations were nevertheless not yet completed during the first year of Soviet rule. Many outstanding cultural figures remained silent or earned a living by translating texts. At that time, Hugo Raudsepp wrote the non-political novel Viimne eurooplane [The Last European], which is noteworthy to this day, while his plays from the period of independent Estonian statehood were not staged in theatres. Starting with the German occupation (1941–1944), the point of departure for Hugo Raudsepp was writing between the lines in his comedies in order to get both readers and theatregoers to think and to give them strength of soul. In 1943, he wrote the comedy Vaheliku vapustused [Interspatial Jolts], which has later been styled as a masterpiece. He concealed numerous signs between the lines of this play referring to the fate of a small people, in other words Estonia, between its great neighbouring powers the Soviet Union and Germany. Performances of this play were soon banned. Performances in theatres of all other plays by Hugo Raudsepp were similarly banned, with one exception. During post-war Stalinism in 1944–51, the sovietisation of Estonian cultural life resumed. Hugo Raudsepp did not initially write on topical Soviet themes, rather he sought subject matter from earlier times. His first play from that period entitled Rotid [Rats] (1946) was about the German occupation during the Second World War and it ridiculed the occupying Germans. Raudsepp also skilfully wove messages supporting Estonian cultural identity into the play. The play was staged in the Estonia Theatre but was soon banned. Raudsepp’s second play from that period, Tagatipu Tiisenoosen (1946), earned first prize at the state comedy competition in that same year. The action in the play was set in the period of Estonian National Awakening at the end of the 19th century. It ridiculed Baltic Germans and the behaviour of parvenu Estonians. Similarly to his previous play, he demonstrated nationalist mentality in this comedy by way of nationalist songs. It is noteworthy that by the summer of 1947, Tagatipu Tiisenoosen had also reached expatriate Estonians and it was staged with an altered title as the only Stalinist- era play from Soviet Estonia in Canada (1952), Australia (1954) and Sweden (1956). The thematic precepts imposed on Estonian writers and the mechanism for ensuring that those precepts were followed became even stricter starting in 1947. Raudsepp wrote his next 7 plays on required Soviet subject matter: post-war land reform (Tillereinu peremehed [The Owners of Tillereinu], 1947), monetary reform (Noorsulane Ilmar [Ilmar the Young Farmhand], 1948), kolkhozes (Küpsuseksam [Matriculation Exam] and Lasteaed [Kindergarten], 1949, Mineviku köidikuis [In the Fetters of the Past] (1950) and his so-called Viimane näidend [Last Play], 1950 or 1951), and the beginning of the Soviet regime in Estonia in 1940 (Pööripäevad Kikerpillis [Solstices in Kikerpill], 1949). Hugo Raudsepp skilfully wove words of wisdom for Estonians on surviving under foreign rule through the mouths of his characters, or discreetly laughed about Soviet reality in a way that the censors did not grasp. Post-war cultural policy culminated with the 8th Plenum of the Estonian Communist (Bolshevist) Party (EC(B)P) Central Committee on 21–26 March 1950, where among other things, the EC(B)P Central Committee Bureau was accused of allowing the exaltation of the superiority of Western European science and culture. Cultural figures were branded bourgeois nationalists and they faced serious ordeals. The fate of the great figure of Estonian dramatic literature was very harsh. Hugo Raudsepp was depicted as a ‘fascist henchman’ in 1950. He was expelled from the Estonian Writers’ Union and was deprived of his personal pension. He was arrested on 11 May 1951. Opposition to the Soviet regime was stressed in the charges presented to him. His play Vaheliku vapustused, which the German occupying regime had banned, and his only play that was allowed at that time, Lipud tormis [Flags in the Storm], were named as the primary evidence supporting the charges. Hugo Raudsepp was sentenced to 10 years imprisonment in the autumn of 1951. He hoped to the last possible moment that he would be allowed to serve his sentence in Estonia. Unfortunately, on 18 February 1952 he was sent by train from Tallinn to Narva and on 19 February on to Leningrad. From there his journey took him to Vjatka, Kirov and finally Irkutsk oblast. This great man’s health was poor, and he soon died on 15 September 1952. Very few new literary works appeared in the 1940s. The historical nadir is altogether seen in post-war book production in the era of Stalinism. Estonian theatre was similarly in a most difficult situation due to censorship, shortage of repertoire, scarcity of funding, and layoffs and sackings of theatre personnel. Nowadays the survival of theatre at the time, regardless of difficult times, is appreciated, and actors are recognised for preserving Estonian identity and uniting the people. Hugo Raudsepp’s role as a playwright in supporting intellectual and spiritual resistance to foreign authorities has to be recognised on the basis of his occupation-era comedies. Hugo Raudsepp was one of the most productive authors of his day, writing a total of 11 plays in 1943–51. According to the assessment of scholars of literature, he never once rose with these works to the leading-edge level of his previous works. It was impossible to create masterpieces that would become classics in that time of strict ideological precepts and the monitoring of their observance. Taking into consideration the extremely restricted creative conditions, his works were still masterpieces of their time. As Hugo Raudsepp’s oeuvre demonstrates, spirit still managed to cleverly trump power regardless of censorship and official precepts. The denunciation of Stalin’s personality cult in 1956 once again opened the door to the theatre for Hugo Raudsepp’s best comedies from Estonia’s era of independent statehood. The witticism and laughter of Hugo Raudsepp’s comedies gave people renewed strength of soul.

Abstract Introduction Prader-Willi syndrome (PWS) is a complex disorder combining hypothalamic dysfunction, pituitary hormone deficiencies, neurodevelopmental delay, high pain threshold, hypotonia and hyperphagia with risk of obesity and its complications. PWS is caused by the loss of expression of a cluster of paternally expressed genes on chromosome 15q11.2-q13 called the PWS critical region, mostly due to paternal deletion (DEL) or maternal uniparental disomy. As life expectancy of patients with PWS increases, age-related diseases like malignancies might pose a new threat to health. Multiple genes in the PWS critical region have been associated with the development of malignancies and obesity is a risk factor for many types of malignancies. The aim of this study was to investigate the prevalence and pathogenesis of malignancies and to provide clinical recommendations for screening in patients with PWS. Methods We collected information on a (for rare disorders) exceptionally large cohort of 706 patients with PWS (160 children, 546 adults). All patients had visited the seven participating centers in Europe and Australia. Data was collected retrospectively from medical records on past or current malignancies, the type of malignancy and risk factors for malignancies. Genotype, age, gender, body mass index (BMI), tobacco use, presence of type 2 diabetes mellitus, growth hormone treatment and sex hormone replacement therapy were assessed in relation to the occurrence of malignancies. Additionally, we systematically searched the literature for information about the relationship between genes in the PWS critical region and malignancies. Results Seven adults (age range 18-55 years old) had been diagnosed with malignancies (acute lymphoblastic leukemia, intracranial hemangiopericytoma, melanoma, adenocarcinoma of the stomach, cholangiocarcinoma, parotid adenocarcinoma and colorectal carcinoma). Genetic subtype was DEL for 100% of the patients with malignancies, compared to 58% in patients without a malignancy (p=0.045). Age, gender, BMI, tobacco use, type 2 diabetes mellitus, growth hormone treatment and sex hormone replacement were not significantly related to the presence of malignancies. Conclusion In conclusion, malignancies are rare in patients with PWS. Remarkably, patients with the DEL genetic subtype have a significantly higher risk of developing malignancies compared to patients with other genotypes. Although malignancies are rare in PWS, participation in regular national screening programs for cervical, breast and colon cancer is important as the high pain threshold and intellectual disability make presentation of physical complaints less reliable. We recommend to perform additional diagnostic testing in case of symptoms suggestive of paraneoplastic syndrome, localizing symptoms, loss of appetite or unexplained weight loss. Presentation: Tuesday, June 14, 2022 10:45 a.m. - 11:00 a.m.

Frontiers: The Interdisciplinary Journal of Study Abroad continues to seek thought-provoking manuscripts, insightful essays, well-researched papers, and concise book reviews that may provide the profession of study abroad an intellectual charge, document some of the best thinking and innovative programming in the field, create an additional forum for dialogue among colleagues in international education, and ultimately enrich our perspectives and bring greater meaning to our work. In this issue, Frontiers focuses on one of the most compelling themes of interest among international educators: learning outside the home society and culture. Through the researched articles, we hope to engage you in further thinking and discussion about the ways we learn in other societies and cultures; the nature of such learning and the features that make it distinctive from learning in one's home culture; the methods, techniques, and best practices of such learning; and the integration of learning abroad into the broader context of the "internationalization" of the home campus. Brian J. Whalen's lead article in this edition of the journal develops our theme by providing an overview of learning outside the home culture, with particular emphasis on the role that memory plays in this enterprise. Whalen examines the psychological literature and uses case studies to focus on the ways in which students learn about their new society and culture, and about themselves. Hamilton Beck, on the other hand, presents an intriguing study from the life of W. E. B. Du Bois. In examining his Autobiography and Du Bois's three-year stay in Berlin from 1892 to 1894 as a graduate student at the Friedrich Wilhelms-Universitat zu Berlin, Beck uncovers an excellent example of "learning outside one's home society and culture" through the series of social, political, and ideological encounters Du Bois experiences, reflects on, and then remembers. The article ends with several "lessons" learned from late- nineteenth-century Germany that remained with Du Bois for the rest of his life, as shown in his Autobiography and his collection of essays in The Souls of Black Folk. A team of field study and study abroad specialists from Earlham College looks at our theme through the use of ethnography and the techniques of field study for students living and working in Mexico, Austria, and Germany. The article demonstrates through the observations of the students how effective the use of field research methods can be in learning about Mexican social relations and cultural traditions by working in a tortilla factory, or about Austrian social habits and traditions by patronizing a night club and its "intimate society." We are reminded of other methods of strengthening learning outside the home society and culture by the case study of the Canadian students from Ontario who attended a teacher training program at the University of Western Sydney in Australia. Barbara Jo Lantz's review of a recent publication describing the usefulness of an “analytical notebook" in learning outside the home society and culture underscores the importance of journal writing as an integral part of study abroad. While journals have been used before in study abroad learning, Kenneth Wagner and Tony Magistrale's Writing Across Culture points the international educator in new directions and contexts in which journal writing enhances learning. Finally, in our Update section, Wayne Myles examines the uses of technology-including the Internet, homepages, and electronic bulletin boards-as ways of advertising to, networking with, and processing study abroad students and their learning on and off our campuses. Barbara Burn examines the internationalization efforts of our European colleagues through her review of Hans de Wit's edited work Strategies for Internationalisation of Higher Education, while Aaro Ollikainen follows up an earlier article by Hans de Wit (Frontiers, no. 1), with a detailed look at Finland's efforts at internationalization. Joseph R. Stimpfl's thorough annotated bibliography reminds us that there is a legacy of several decades of critical thinking about study abroad and international education to which we are indebted and on which we can build. With this issue, the editorial board is pleased to begin publishing two issues annually of Frontiers. We are interested in interdisciplinary approaches to study abroad as well as critical essays, book reviews, and annotated bibliographies. In building on the work of previous research, and creating a forum for a debate and discussion, we hope that we may begin to define both theoretically and practically the contours of the frontiers of study abroad. Michael Monahan, Macalester College Thomas Ricks, Villanova University

Introduction: New targets and treatment modalities are needed for multiple myeloma (MM). Fc receptor-homolog 5 (FcRH5) is a type I membrane protein that is expressed on B cells and plasma cells, and is found on myeloma cells with near 100% prevalence. BFCR4350A, a humanized immunoglobulin G-based T-cell-engaging bispecific antibody (bsAb), targets the most membrane-proximal domain of FcRH5 on myeloma cells and CD3 on T cells. Dual binding facilitates efficient immunological synapse formation, resulting in T-cell activation and potent killing of myeloma cells (Li et al. Cancer Cell 2017). GO39775 (NCT03275103) is an ongoing, multicenter Phase I trial evaluating the safety, activity, pharmacodynamics, and pharmacokinetics of BFCR4350A monotherapy in pts with relapsed/refractory (R/R) MM. We present dose-escalation data from the single step-up dosing cohort (Arm A). Methods: All pts have R/R MM for which no established therapy is available, appropriate, or tolerated. Prior exposure to CAR-T cells, T-cell engaging bsAbs, and antibody-drug conjugates (ADCs), including those targeting BCMA, is allowed. In dose-escalation, pts receive BFCR4350A by IV infusion in 21-day cycles (Q3W). In Arm A, a single step-up dose is used in Cycle (C) 1 to mitigate the risk for cytokine release syndrome (CRS), with the step dose (0.05-3.6mg) given on C1 Day (D) 1 and the target dose (0.15-132mg) given on C1D8, and on D1 of each subsequent cycle. Results: At cut-off (April 13, 2020), 51 pts (median age: 62.0 years [range: 33-80]; high-risk [HR] cytogenetics [1q21, t(4;14), t(14;16), or del(17p)]: 28 pts) had been enrolled into Arm A. Median number of prior lines of therapy was 6 (range: 2-15). Prior treatments included: proteasome inhibitors (PIs), 100% (94.1% refractory); immunomodulatory drugs (IMiDs), 100% (98.0% refractory); anti-CD38 mAbs, 78.4% (92.5% refractory); autologous stem cell transplant, 86.3%. Overall, 66.7% of pts were triple-class refractory (≥1 PI, ≥1 IMiD, and ≥1 anti-CD38 mAb), and 94.1% of pts were refractory to their last therapy. At cut-off, 46/51 pts were evaluable for efficacy. Responses were observed at the 3.6/20mg dose level and above, in 15/29 pts (51.7%) (Table). Responses included 3 stringent CRs, 3 CRs, 4 VGPRs, and 5 PRs (Table). At the 3.6/20mg dose level and above, responses were observed in pts with HR cytogenetics (9/17), triple-class refractory disease (10/20), and prior exposure to anti-CD38 mAbs (11/22), CAR-Ts (2/3), or ADCs (2/2). Duration of response data are evolving, with 6/15 pts in response for >6 months at cut-off. Median follow-up for safety was 6.2 months (range: 0.2-26.3 months). Almost all pts (49/51) had ≥1 treatment-related AE. The most common treatment-related AE was CRS (Lee et al. 2014 criteria; 38/51 pts, 74.5%). CRS was Grade (Gr) 1 in 20 pts (39.2%), Gr 2 in 17 pts (33.3%), and Gr 3 in 1 pt (2%) (due to Gr 4 transaminase elevation). CRS was most common in C1 (38 pts) and was uncommon or absent in subsequent cycles (4 pts). Most CRS events (49/58, 84.5%) resolved within 2 days. 18/38 (47.3%) pts with CRS received tocilizumab and/or steroids. Other treatment-related AEs in ≥5 pts were neutropenia and lymphocyte count decreased (6 pts each, 11.8%), aspartate aminotransferase increased and platelet count decreased (5 pts each, 9.8%). Treatment-related Gr 3-4 AEs (20 pts, 39.2%) in ≥3 pts were lymphocyte count decreased (6 pts, 11.8%), neutropenia (5 pts, 9.8%), anemia and platelet count decreased (3 pts each, 5.9%). No treatment-related Gr 5 (fatal) AEs were observed. Treatment-related AEs leading to withdrawal of treatment were uncommon (1 pt, 2.0%). One DLT (Gr 3 pneumonia) was observed in the 3.6/90mg cohort, but the MTD was not reached. BFCR4350A PK was linear across the active dose levels tested and the estimated half-life was supportive of the Q3W dosing regimen. Conclusions: BFCR4350A monotherapy demonstrates promising activity in heavily pre-treated R/R MM, with deep and durable responses observed in pts with HR cytogenetics, triple-class refractory disease, and/or prior exposure to anti-CD38 mAbs, CAR-Ts, or ADCs. Toxicity was manageable, with C1 single step-up dosing effectively mitigating the risk for severe CRS and allowing escalation to clinically active doses. Updated data will be presented. Disclosures Cohen: Novartis: Other: Patents/Intellectual property licensed, Research Funding; Bristol-Myers Squibb: Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees, Research Funding; Celgene: Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; Takeda,: Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; Janssen: Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; GlaxoSmithKline: Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; Kite Pharma: Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; Oncopeptides: Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; Seattle Genetics: Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; AstraZeneca: Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; Genentech/Roche: Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees. Harrison:Takeda: Consultancy, Honoraria, Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees, Research Funding; GSK: Consultancy, Honoraria, Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees, Research Funding; F. Hoffmann-La Roche: Consultancy, Honoraria; Novartis: Consultancy, Honoraria, Patents & Royalties: wrt panobinostat; BMS: Consultancy, Honoraria; Amgen: Consultancy, Honoraria, Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees, Research Funding; Celgene: Consultancy, Honoraria, Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees, Research Funding; Haemalogix: Consultancy; Janssen: Honoraria; CRISPR Therapeutics: Consultancy, Honoraria; AbbVie: Consultancy, Honoraria, Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees, Research Funding; Janssen-Cilag: Consultancy, Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees, Research Funding. Krishnan:Sutro: Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; Z Predicta: Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; Janssen: Consultancy; Regeneron: Consultancy; Takeda: Speakers Bureau; Amgen: Speakers Bureau; BMS/Celgene: Consultancy, Other: Stock BMS, Speakers Bureau; Sanofi: Consultancy. Fonseca:Amgen: Consultancy; BMS: Consultancy; Celgene: Consultancy; Takeda: Consultancy; Bayer: Consultancy; Janssen: Consultancy; Novartis: Consultancy; Pharmacyclics: Consultancy; Sanofi: Consultancy; Merck: Consultancy; Juno: Consultancy; Kite: Consultancy; Aduro: Consultancy; OncoTracker: Consultancy, Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees; Oncopeptides: Consultancy; GSK: Consultancy; AbbVie: Consultancy; Adaptive Biotechnologies: Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees. Forsberg:Celgene: Speakers Bureau; Genentech, Inc., Sanofi, Karyopharm, Abbvie: Research Funding. Spencer:AbbVie, Celgene, Haemalogix, Janssen, Sanofi, SecuraBio, Specialised Therapeutics Australia, Servier and Takeda: Consultancy; Amgen, Celgene, Haemalogix, Janssen, Servier and Takeda: Research Funding; AbbVie, Amgen, Celgene, Haemalogix, Janssen, Sanofi, SecuraBio, Specialised Therapeutics Australia, Servier and Takeda: Honoraria; Celgene, Janssen and Takeda: Speakers Bureau. Berdeja:BMS: Consultancy, Research Funding; Glenmark: Research Funding; Genentech, Inc.: Research Funding; Bioclinica: Consultancy; Teva: Research Funding; Vivolux: Research Funding; Abbvie: Research Funding; Cellularity: Research Funding; Acetylon: Research Funding; CURIS: Research Funding; Legend: Consultancy; Lilly: Research Funding; Constellation: Research Funding; EMD Sorono: Research Funding; Celgene: Consultancy, Research Funding; Novartis: Research Funding; Janssen: Consultancy, Research Funding; Prothena: Consultancy; Poseida: Research Funding; Amgen: Consultancy, Research Funding; Servier: Consultancy; Takeda: Consultancy, Research Funding; Bluebird: Research Funding; Karyopharm: Consultancy; Kite Pharma: Consultancy; CRISPR Therapeutics: Consultancy, Research Funding; Kesios: Research Funding. Li:Genentech, Inc./ F. Hoffmann-La Roche: Current Employment. Choeurng:Genentech, Inc.: Current Employment, Current equity holder in publicly-traded company. Vaze:Genentech, Inc./ F. Hoffmann-La Roche: Current Employment, Current equity holder in publicly-traded company. Samineni:Genentech, Inc.: Current Employment, Current equity holder in publicly-traded company. Sumiyoshi:Genentech, Inc.: Current Employment, Current equity holder in publicly-traded company, Divested equity in a private or publicly-traded company in the past 24 months. Cooper:Genentech, Inc./ F. Hoffmann-La Roche: Current Employment, Current equity holder in publicly-traded company. Fine:Genentech, Inc.: Current Employment; F. Hoffmann-La Roche: Current equity holder in publicly-traded company. Trudel:Janssen: Honoraria, Research Funding; Sanofi: Honoraria; GSK: Consultancy, Honoraria, Research Funding; Pfizer: Honoraria, Research Funding; Karyopharm: Honoraria; AstraZeneca: Honoraria; BMS: Consultancy, Honoraria, Research Funding; Genentech, Inc.: Research Funding; Amgen: Consultancy, Research Funding; Takeda: Honoraria. OffLabel Disclosure: BFCR4350A is a humanized IgG-based T-cell-engaging bispecific antibody that targets the most membrane-proximal domain of FcRH5 on myeloma cells and CD3 on T cells. Dual binding facilitates efficient immunological synapse formation, resulting in T-cell activation and killing of myeloma cells. BFCR4350A is an investigational agent.

Special Care NoticeThis article discusses trauma and violence inflicted upon the Indigenous peoples of Tasmania through the processes of colonisation. Content within this article may be distressing to some readers. IntroductionThis article looks briefly at the collection, consultation, and digital sharing of stories essential to the histories of the First Nations peoples of Australia. Focusing on materials held in Sydney, New South Wales two case studies—the object known as the Proclamation Board and the George Augustus Robinson Papers—explore how materials can be shared with Aboriginal peoples of the region now known as Tasmania. Specifically, the authors of this article (a Palawa man and an Australian woman of European descent) ask how can the idea of the privileging of Indigenous voices, within Eurocentric cultural collections, be transformed from rhetoric to reality? Moreover, how can we navigate this complex work, that is made even more problematic by distance, through the utilisation of knowledge networks which are geographically isolated from the collections holding stories crucial to Indigenous communities? In seeking to answer these important questions, this article looks at how cultural, emotional, and intellectual ownership can be divested from the physical ownership of a collection in a way that repatriates—appropriately and sensitively—stories of Aboriginal Australia and of colonisation. Holding Stories, Not Always Our OwnCultural institutions, including libraries, have, in recent years, been drawn into discussions centred on the notion of digital disruption and “that transformative shift which has seen the ongoing realignment of business resources, relationships, knowledge, and value both facilitating the entry of previously impossible ideas and accelerating the competitive impact of those same impossible ideas” (Franks and Ensor n.p.). As Molly Brown has noted, librarians “are faced, on a daily basis, with rapidly changing technology and the ways in which our patrons access and use information. Thus, we need to look at disruptive technologies as opportunities” (n.p.). Some innovations, including the transition from card catalogues to online catalogues and the provision of a wide range of electronic resources, are now considered to be business as usual for most institutions. So, too, the digitisation of great swathes of materials to facilitate access to collections onsite and online, with digitising primary sources seen as an intermediary between the pillars of preserving these materials and facilitating access for those who cannot, for a variety of logistical and personal reasons, travel to a particular repository where a collection is held.The result has been the development of hybrid collections: that is, collections that can be accessed in both physical and digital formats. Yet, the digitisation processes conducted by memory institutions is often selective. Limited resources, even for large-scale digitisation projects usually only realise outcomes that focus on making visually rich, key, or canonical documents, or those documents that are considered high use and at risk, available online. Such materials are extracted from the larger full body of records while other lesser-known components are often omitted. Digitisation projects therefore tend to be devised for a broader audience where contextual questions are less central to the methodology in favour of presenting notable or famous documents online only. Documents can be profiled as an exhibition separate from their complete collection and, critically, their wider context. Libraries of course are not neutral spaces and this practice of (re)enforcing the canon through digitisation is a challenge that cultural institutions, in partnerships, need to address (Franks and Ensor n.p.). Indeed, our digital collections are as affected by power relationships and the ongoing impacts of colonisation as our physical collections. These power relationships can be seen through an organisation’s “processes that support acquisitions, as purchases and as the acceptance of artefacts offered as donations. Throughout such processes decisions are continually made (consciously and unconsciously) that affect what is presented and actively promoted as the official history” (Thorpe et al. 8). While it is important to acknowledge what we do collect, it is equally important to look, too, at what we do not collect and to consider how we continually privilege and exclude stories. Especially when these stories are not always our own, but are held, often as accidents of collecting. For example, an item comes in as part of a larger suite of materials while older, city-based institutions often pre-date regional repositories. An essential point here is that cultural institutions can often become comfortable in what they collect, building on existing holdings. This, in turn, can lead to comfortable digitisation. If we are to be truly disruptive, we need to embrace feeling uncomfortable in what we do, and we need to view digitisation as an intervention opportunity; a chance to challenge what we ‘know’ about our collections. This is especially relevant in any attempts to decolonise collections.Case Study One: The Proclamation BoardThe first case study looks at an example of re-digitisation. One of the seven Proclamation Boards known to survive in a public collection is held by the Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales, having been purchased from Tasmanian collector and photographer John Watt Beattie (1859–1930) in May 1919 for £30 (Morris 86). Why, with so much material to digitise—working in a program of limited funds and time—would the Library return to an object that has already been privileged? Unanswered questions and advances in digitisation technologies, created a unique opportunity. For the First Peoples of Van Diemen’s Land (now known as Tasmania), colonisation by the British in 1803 was “an emotionally, intellectually, physically, and spiritually confronting series of encounters” (Franks n.p.). Violent incidents became routine and were followed by a full-scale conflict, often referred to as the Black War (Clements 1), or more recently as the Tasmanian War, fought from the 1820s until 1832. Image 1: Governor Arthur’s Proclamation to the Aborigines, ca. 1828–1830. Image Credit: Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales, Call No.: SAFE / R 247.Behind the British combatants were various support staff, including administrators and propagandists. One of the efforts by the belligerents, behind the front line, to win the war and bring about peace was the production of approximately 100 Proclamation Boards. These four-strip pictograms were the result of a scheme introduced by Lieutenant Governor George Arthur (1784–1854), on the advice of Surveyor General George Frankland (1800–38), to communicate that all are equal under the rule of law (Arthur 1). Frankland wrote to Arthur in early 1829 to suggest these Proclamation Boards could be produced and nailed to trees (Morris 84), as a Eurocentric adaptation of a traditional method of communication used by Indigenous peoples who left images on the trunks of trees. The overtly stated purpose of the Boards was, like the printed proclamations exhorting peace, to assert, all people—black and white—were equal. That “British Justice would protect” everyone (Morris 84). The first strip on each of these pictogram Boards presents Indigenous peoples and colonists living peacefully together. The second strip shows “a conciliatory handshake between the British governor and an Aboriginal ‘chief’, highly reminiscent of images found in North America on treaty medals and anti-slavery tokens” (Darian-Smith and Edmonds 4). The third and fourth strips depict the repercussions for committing murder (or, indeed, any significant crime), with an Indigenous man hanged for spearing a colonist and a European man hanged for shooting an Aboriginal man. Both men executed in the presence of the Lieutenant Governor. The Boards, oil on Huon pine, were painted by “convict artists incarcerated in the island penal colony” (Carroll 73).The Board at the State Library of New South Wales was digitised quite early on in the Library’s digitisation program, it has been routinely exhibited (including for the Library’s centenary in 2010) and is written about regularly. Yet, many questions about this small piece of timber remain unanswered. For example, some Boards were outlined with sketches and some were outlined with pouncing, “a technique [of the Italian Renaissance] of pricking the contours of a drawing with a pin. Charcoal was then dusted on to the drawing” (Carroll 75–76). Could such a sketch or example of pouncing be seen beneath the surface layers of paint on this particular Board? What might be revealed by examining the Board more closely and looking at this object in different ways?An important, but unexpected, discovery was that while most of the pigments in the painting correlate with those commonly available to artists in the early nineteenth century there is one outstanding anomaly. X-ray analysis revealed cadmium yellow present in several places across the painting, including the dresses of the little girls in strip one, uniform details in strip two, and the trousers worn by the settler men in strips three and four (Kahabka 2). This is an extraordinary discovery, as cadmium yellows were available “commercially as an artist pigment in England by 1846” and were shown by “Winsor & Newton at the 1851 Exhibition held at the Crystal Palace, London” (Fiedler and Bayard 68). The availability of this particular type of yellow in the early 1850s could set a new marker for the earliest possible date for the manufacture of this Board, long-assumed to be 1828–30. Further, the early manufacture of cadmium yellow saw the pigment in short supply and a very expensive option when compared with other pigments such as chrome yellow (the darker yellow, seen in the grid lines that separate the scenes in the painting). This presents a clearly uncomfortable truth in relation to an object so heavily researched and so significant to a well-regarded collection that aims to document much of Australia’s colonial history. Is it possible, for example, the Board has been subjected to overpainting at a later date? Or, was this premium paint used to produce a display Board that was sent, by the Tasmanian Government, to the 1866 Intercolonial Exhibition in Melbourne? In seeking to see the finer details of the painting through re-digitisation, the results were much richer than anticipated. The sketch outlines are clearly visible in the new high-resolution files. There are, too, details unable to be seen clearly with the naked eye, including this warrior’s headdress and ceremonial scarring on his stomach, scars that tell stories “of pain, endurance, identity, status, beauty, courage, sorrow or grief” (Australian Museum n.p.). The image of this man has been duplicated and distributed since the 1830s, an anonymous figure deployed to tell a settler-centric story of the Black, or Tasmanian, War. This man can now be seen, for the first time nine decades later, to wear his own story. We do not know his name, but he is no longer completely anonymous. This image is now, in some ways, a portrait. The State Library of New South Wales acknowledges this object is part of an important chapter in the Tasmanian story and, though two Boards are in collections in Tasmania (the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery, Hobart and the Queen Victoria Museum and Art Gallery, Launceston), each Board is different. The Library holds an important piece of a large and complex puzzle and has a moral obligation to make this information available beyond its metropolitan location. Digitisation, in this case re-digitisation, is allowing for the disruption of this story in sparking new questions around provenance and for the relocating of a Palawa warrior to a more prominent, perhaps even equal role, within a colonial narrative. Image 2: Detail, Governor Arthur’s Proclamation to the Aborigines, ca. 1828–1830. Image Credit: Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales, Call No.: SAFE / R 247.Case Study Two: The George Augustus Robinson PapersThe second case study focuses on the work being led by the Indigenous Engagement Branch at the State Library of New South Wales on the George Augustus Robinson (1791–1866) Papers. In 1829, Robinson was granted a government post in Van Diemen’s Land to ‘conciliate’ with the Palawa peoples. More accurately, Robinson’s core task was dispossession and the systematic disconnection of the Palawa peoples from their Country, community, and culture. Robinson was a habitual diarist and notetaker documenting much of his own life as well as the lives of those around him, including First Nations peoples. His extensive suite of papers represents a familiar and peculiar kind of discomfort for Aboriginal Australians, one in which they are forced to learn about themselves through the eyes and words of their oppressors. For many First Nations peoples of Tasmania, Robinson remains a violent and terrible figure, but his observations of Palawa culture and language are as vital as they are problematic. Importantly, his papers include vibrant and utterly unique descriptions of people, place, flora and fauna, and language, as well as illustrations revealing insights into the routines of daily life (even as those routines were being systematically dismantled by colonial authorities). “Robinson’s records have informed much of the revitalisation of Tasmanian Aboriginal culture in the twentieth century and continue to provide the basis for investigations of identity and deep relationships to land by Aboriginal scholars” (Lehman n.p.). These observations and snippets of lived culture are of immense value to Palawa peoples today but the act of reading between Robinson’s assumptions and beyond his entrenched colonial views is difficult work.Image 3: George Augustus Robinson Papers, 1829–34. Image Credit: Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales, A 7023–A 7031.The canonical reference for Robinson’s archive is Friendly Mission: The Tasmanian Journals and Papers of George Augustus Robinson, 1829–1834, edited by N.J.B. Plomley. The volume of over 1,000 pages was first published in 1966. This large-scale project is recognised “as a monumental work of Tasmanian history” (Crane ix). Yet, this standard text (relied upon by Indigenous and non-Indigenous researchers) has clearly not reproduced a significant percentage of Robinson’s Tasmanian manuscripts. Through his presumptuous truncations Plomley has not simply edited Robinson’s work but has, quite literally, written many Palawa stories out of this colonial narrative. It is this lack of agency in determining what should be left out that is most troubling, and reflects an all-too-familiar approach which libraries, including the State Library of New South Wales, are now urgently trying to rectify. Plomley’s preface and introduction does not indicate large tranches of information are missing. Indeed, Plomley specifies “that in extenso [in full] reproduction was necessary” (4) and omissions “have been kept to a minimum” (8). A 32-page supplement was published in 1971. A new edition, including the supplement, some corrections made by Plomley, and some extra material was released in 2008. But much continues to be unknown outside of academic circles, and far too few Palawa Elders and language revival workers have had access to Robinson’s original unfiltered observations. Indeed, Plomley’s text is linear and neat when compared to the often-chaotic writings of Robinson. Digitisation cannot address matters of the materiality of the archive, but such projects do offer opportunities for access to information in its original form, unedited, and unmediated.Extensive consultation with communities in Tasmania is underpinning the digitisation and re-description of a collection which has long been assumed—through partial digitisation, microfilming, and Plomley’s text—to be readily available and wholly understood. Central to this project is not just challenging the canonical status of Plomley’s work but directly challenging the idea non-Aboriginal experts can truly understand the cultural or linguistic context of the information recorded in Robinson’s journals. One of the more exciting outcomes, so far, has been working with Palawa peoples to explore the possibility of Palawa-led transcriptions and translation, and not breaking up the tasks of this work and distributing them to consultants or to non-Indigenous student groups. In this way, people are being meaningfully reunited with their own histories and, crucially, given first right to contextualise and understand these histories. Again, digitisation and disruption can be seen here as allies with the facilitation of accessibility to an archive in ways that re-distribute the traditional power relations around interpreting and telling stories held within colonial-rich collections.Image 4: Detail, George Augustus Robinson Papers, 1829–34. Image Credit: Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales, A 7023–A 7031.As has been so brilliantly illustrated by Bruce Pascoe’s recent work Dark Emu (2014), when Aboriginal peoples are given the opportunity to interpret their own culture from the colonial records without interference, they are able to see strength and sophistication rather than victimhood. For, to “understand how the Europeans’ assumptions selectively filtered the information brought to them by the early explorers is to see how we came to have the history of the country we accept today” (4). Far from decrying these early colonial records Aboriginal peoples understand their vital importance in connecting to a culture which was dismantled and destroyed, but importantly it is known that far too much is lost in translation when Aboriginal Australians are not the ones undertaking the translating. ConclusionFor Aboriginal Australians, culture and knowledge is no longer always anchored to Country. These histories, once so firmly connected to communities through their ancestral lands and languages, have been dispersed across the continent and around the world. Many important stories—of family history, language, and ways of life—are held in cultural institutions and understanding the role of responsibly disseminating these collections through digitisation is paramount. In transitioning from physical collections to hybrid collections of the physical and digital, the digitisation processes conducted by memory institutions can be—and due to the size of some collections is inevitably—selective. Limited resources, even for large-scale and well-resourced digitisation projects usually realise outcomes that focus on making visually rich, key, or canonical documents, or those documents considered high use or at risk, available online. Such materials are extracted from a full body of records. Digitisation projects, as noted, tend to be devised for a broader audience where contextual questions are less central to the methodology in favour of presenting notable documents online, separate from their complete collection and, critically, their context. Our institutions carry the weight of past collecting strategies and, today, the pressure of digitisation strategies as well. Contemporary librarians should not be gatekeepers, but rather key holders. In collaborating across sectors and with communities we open doors for education, research, and the repatriation of culture and knowledge. We must, always, remember to open these doors wide: the call of Aboriginal Australians of ‘nothing about us without us’ is not an invitation to collaboration but an imperative. Libraries—as well as galleries, archives, and museums—cannot tell these stories alone. Also, these two case studies highlight what we believe to be one of the biggest mistakes that not just libraries but all cultural institutions are vulnerable to making, the assumption that just because a collection is open access it is also accessible. Digitisation projects are more valuable when communicated, contextualised and—essentially—the result of community consultation. Such work can, for some, be uncomfortable while for others it offers opportunities to embrace disruption and, by extension, opportunities to decolonise collections. For First Nations peoples this work can be more powerful than any simple measurement tool can record. Through examining our past collecting, deliberate efforts to consult, and through digital sharing projects across metropolitan and regional Australia, we can make meaningful differences to the ways in which Aboriginal Australians can, again, own their histories.Acknowledgements The authors acknowledge the Palawa peoples: the traditional custodians of the lands known today as Tasmania. The authors acknowledge, too, the Gadigal people upon whose lands this article was researched and written. We are indebted to Dana Kahabka (Conservator), Joy Lai (Imaging Specialist), Richard Neville (Mitchell Librarian), and Marika Duczynski (Project Officer) at the State Library of New South Wales. Sincere thanks are also given to Jason Ensor of Western Sydney University.ReferencesArthur, George. “Proclamation.” The Hobart Town Courier 19 Apr. 1828: 1.———. Proclamation to the Aborigines. Graphic Materials. Sydney: Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales, SAFE R / 247, ca. 1828–1830.Australian Museum. “Aboriginal Scarification.” 2018. 11 Jan. 2019 <https://australianmuseum.net.au/about/history/exhibitions/body-art/aboriginal-scarification/>.Brown, Molly. “Disruptive Technology: A Good Thing for Our Libraries?” International Librarians Network (2016). 26 Aug. 2018 <https://interlibnet.org/2016/11/25/disruptive-technology-a-good-thing-for-our-libraries/>.Carroll, Khadija von Zinnenburg. Art in the Time of Colony: Empires and the Making of the Modern World, 1650–2000. Farnham, UK: Ashgate Publishing, 2014.Clements, Nicholas. The Black War: Fear, Sex and Resistance in Tasmania. St Lucia, U of Queensland P, 2014.Crane, Ralph. “Introduction.” Friendly Mission: The Tasmanian Journals and Papers of George Augustus Robinson, 1829-1834. 2nd ed. Launceston and Hobart: Queen Victoria Museum and Art Gallery, and Quintus Publishing, 2008. ix.Darian-Smith, Kate, and Penelope Edmonds. “Conciliation on Colonial Frontiers.” Conciliation on Colonial Frontiers: Conflict, Performance and Commemoration in Australia and the Pacific Rim. Eds. Kate Darian-Smith and Penelope Edmonds. New York: Routledge, 2015. 1–14.Edmonds, Penelope. “‘Failing in Every Endeavour to Conciliate’: Governor Arthur’s Proclamation Boards to the Aborigines, Australian Conciliation Narratives and Their Transnational Connections.” Journal of Australian Studies 35.2 (2011): 201–18.Fiedler, Inge, and Michael A. Bayard. Artist Pigments, a Handbook of Their History and Characteristics. Ed. Robert L. Feller. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1986. 65–108. Franks, Rachel. “A True Crime Tale: Re-Imagining Governor Arthur’s Proclamation Board for the Tasmanian Aborigines.” M/C Journal 18.6 (2015). 1 Feb. 2019 <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/index.php/mcjournal/article/view/1036>.Franks, Rachel, and Jason Ensor. “Challenging the Canon: Collaboration, Digitisation and Education.” ALIA Online: A Conference of the Australian Library and Information Association, 11–15 Feb. 2019, Sydney.Kahabka, Dana. Condition Assessment [Governor Arthur’s Proclamation to the Aborigines, ca. 1828–1830, SAFE / R247]. Sydney: State Library of New South Wales, 2017.Lehman, Greg. “Pleading Robinson: Reviews of Friendly Mission: The Tasmanian Journals and Papers of George Augustus Robinson (2008) and Reading Robinson: Companion Essays to Friendly Mission (2008).” Australian Humanities Review 49 (2010). 1 May 2019 <http://press-files.anu.edu.au/downloads/press/p41961/html/review-12.xhtml?referer=1294&page=15>. Morris, John. “Notes on A Message to the Tasmanian Aborigines in 1829, popularly called ‘Governor Davey’s Proclamation to the Aborigines, 1816’.” Australiana 10.3 (1988): 84–7.Pascoe, Bruce. Dark Emu. Broome: Magabala Books, 2014/2018.Plomley, N.J.B. Friendly Mission: The Tasmanian Journals and Papers of George Augustus Robinson, 1829–1834. Hobart: Tasmanian Historical Research Association, 1966.Robinson, George Augustus. Papers. Textual Records. Sydney: Mitchell Library, State Library of NSW, A 7023–A 7031, 1829–34. Thorpe, Kirsten, Monica Galassi, and Rachel Franks. “Discovering Indigenous Australian Culture: Building Trusted Engagement in Online Environments.” Journal of Web Librarianship 10.4 (2016): 343–63.

There is a considerable current debate going on as to the ethical, environmental, socio-biological and economic implications of man's use of biotechnology. A particular conflict revolves around the possible patenting of genetically engineered life-forms. It is as difficult, sometimes, for biologists to grasp the socio-legal arguments over these matters as it is for lawyers and philosophers to understand the underlying science and technology. The biologists’ problems will be lessened by a study of the proceedings of a conference jointly convened by the Intellectual and Industrial Property Society and the Monash University Centre for Human Bioethics, held in Melbourne, Australia in October 1990. Selected papers from this conference were printed in 1991 in Intellectual Property Forum: Journal of the Intellectual and Industrial Property Society. The eleven published papers, which mainly cover the ethical, social and legal arguments over the patenting and commercialization of new life-forms, are a most useful source of opinion and information in this difficult but most important technological area.

IntroductionCongenital heart defects (CHD) are diagnosed up to age 6 in 8-12/1,000 births annually in Western Australia. Recent improvements in management of infants with CHDs has significantly increased survival; approximately 85\% of infants with CHDs live beyond childhood. However, children with CHDs may have increased risk of life-long intellectual disabilities. Objectives and ApproachWe conducted a study of 20,997 children to determine risk of intellectual disability (ID). All singleton, live born infants with CHDs born 1983-2010 were identified from the Western Australian Register for Developmental Anomalies, a statewide birth defects registry (n=6,968). Infants without CHDs born 1983-2010 were randomly selected from birth records (n=14,029). All data were linked to the Western Australia Midwives Notification System to obtain maternal and infant information. Children with ID were identified by linkage to the statewide Intellectual Disability Exploring Answers database. Risk ratios (RR) and 95% confidence intervals (CI) were calculated from multivariable logistic regression analyses. ResultsOf 20,997 children, 965 (4.6%) had an ID; 1.3% of children without CHDs and 11.2% of children with CHDs had an ID (P<0.001). 0.2% of children without CHDs and 0.4% of children with CHDs had autism. Three percent of children with CHDs had a known biomedical cause for ID (excluding trisomy 21) and 4.4% of children with CHDs had trisomy 21. Children with CHDs had 9 times the risk of ID compared to children without CHDs (RR=9.30; 95% CI: 7.91, 10.94). Children with CHDs almost had a twofold increased risk of autism compared to children without CHDs (RR=1.78; 95% CI: 1.07, 2.95). The greatest risk of ID among children with CHDs was associated with trisomy 21 (RR=166.0; 95% CI: 78.5, 350.8). Conclusion/ImplicationsChildren with CHDs have higher risk of ID than children without CHDs. Although the greatest risk for ID was for trisomy 21, children with CHDs still had increased risk of ID from other causes and all causes overall. Future research should elucidate the underlying etiology of ID in these children.

In recent years a number of dramas focussing on Indigenous Australians and Australian history have appeared on the ABC, one of Australia's two public television channels. These dramas have different foci but all represent some aspects of Australian Indigenous history and how it interacts with 'mainstream' representations of Australian history. The four programs I will look at are Cleverman (Goalpost Pictures, 2016-ongoing), Glitch (Matchbox Films, 2015-ongoing), The Secret River (Ruby Entertainment, 2015) and Redfern Now (Blackfella Films, 2012), each of which engages with the past in a unique way.Clearly, different creators, working with different plots and in different genres will have different ways of representing the past. Redfern Now and Cleverman are both produced by Indigenous creators whereas the creators of The Secret River and Glitch are white Australians. Redfern Now and The Secret River are in a realist mode, whereas Glitch and Cleverman are speculative fiction. My argument proceeds on two axes: first, speculative genres allow for more creative ways of representing the past. They give more freedom for the creators to present affective representations of the historical past. Speculative genres also allow for more interesting intellectual examinations of what we consider to be history and its uncertainties. My second axis argues, because it is hard to avoid when looking at this group of texts, that Indigenous creators represent the past in different ways than non-Indigenous creators. Indigenous creators present a more elliptical vision. Non-Indigenous creators tend to address historical stories in more overt ways. It is apparent that even when dealing with the same histories and the same facts, the understanding of the past held by different groups is presented differently because it has different affective meanings.These television programs were all made in the 2010s but the roots of their interpretations go much further back, not only to the history they represent but also to the arguments about history that have raged in Australian intellectual and popular culture. Throughout most of the twentieth century, indigenous history was not discussed in Australia, until this was disturbed by WEH Stanner's reference in the Boyer lectures of 1968 to "our great Australian silence" (Clark 73). There was, through the 1970s and 80s, increased discussion of Indigenous history, and then in the 1990s there was a period of social and cultural argument known locally as the 'History Wars'. This long-running public disagreement took place in both academic and public arenas, and involved historians, other academics, politicians, journalists and social commentators on each side. One side argued that the arrival of white people in Australia led to frontier wars, massacre, attempted genocide and the ongoing oppression of Indigenous people (Reynolds). The other posited that when white people arrived they killed a few Aborigines but mostly Aboriginal people were killed by disease or failure to 'defend' their culture (Windschuttle). The first viewpoint was revisionist from the 1960s onwards and the second represented an attempt at counter-revision – to move the understanding of history back to what it was prior to the revision. The argument took place not only among historians, but was taken up by politicians with Paul Keating, prime minister 1993-1996, holding the first view and John Howard, prime minister 1996-2007, aggressively pursuing the second. The revisionist viewpoint was championed by historians such as Henry Reynolds and Lyndall Ryan and academics and Aboriginal activists such as Tony Birch and Aileen Moreton Robinson; whereas the counter-revisionists had Keith Windschuttle and Geoffrey Blainey. By and large the revisionist viewpoint has become dominant and the historical work of the counter-revisionists is highly disputed and not accepted.This argument was prominent in Australian cultural discourse throughout the 1990s and has never entirely disappeared. The TV shows I am examining were not made in the 1990s, nor were they made in the 2000s - it took nearly twenty years for responses to the argument to make the jump from politicians' speeches and opinion pieces to television drama. John Ellis argues that the role of television in popular discourse is "working through," meaning contentious issues are first raised in news reports, then they move to current affairs, then talk shows and documentaries, then sketch comedy, then drama (Ellis). Australian Indigenous history was extensively discussed in the news, current affairs and talk shows in the 1990s, documentaries appeared somewhat later, notably First Australians in 2008, but sketch comedy and drama did not happen until in 2014, when Black Comedy's programme first aired, offering sketches engaging often and fiercely with indigenous history.The existence of this public discourse in the political and academic realms was reflected in film before television. Felicity Collins argues that the "Blak Wave" of Indigenous film came to exist in the context of, and as a response to, the history wars (Collins 232). This wave of film making by Indigenous film makers included the works of Rachel Perkins, Warwick Thornton and Ivan Sen – whose films chronicled the lives of Indigenous Australians. There was also what Collins calls "back-tracking films" such as Rabbit-Proof Fence (2002) and The Tracker (2010) made by white creators that presented arguments from the history wars for general audiences. Collins argues that both the "blak wave" and the "back track" created an alternative cultural sphere where past injustices are acknowledged. She says: "the films of the Blak Wave… cut across the history wars by turning an Indigenous gaze on the colonial past and its afterlife in the present" (Collins 232). This group of films sees Indigenous gazes relate the past and present whereas the white gaze represents specific history. In this article I examine a similar group of representations in television programs.History is not an innocent discourse. In western culture 'history' describes a certain way of looking at the past that was codified in the 19th century (Lloyd 375). It is however not the only way to look at the past, theorist Mark Day has described it as a type of relation with the past and argues that other understandings of the past such as popular memory and mythology are also available (Day). The codification of history in the 19th century involved an increased reliance on documentary evidence, a claim to objectivity, a focus on causation and, often though not always, a focus on national, political history. This sort of history became the academic understanding of history – which claims to be, if not objective, at least capable of disinterest; which bases its arguments on facts and which can establish its facts through reference to documentary records (Froeyman 219). Aileen Moreton-Robinson would call this "white patriarchal knowledge" that seeks to place the indigenous within its own type of knowledge production ("The White Man's Burden" 414). The western version of history tends to focus on causation and to present the past as a coherent narrative leading to the current point in time. This is not an undisputed conception of history in the western academy but it is common and often dominant.Post-colonialist analyses of history argue that western writing about non-western subjects is biased and forces non-westerners into categories used to oppress them (Anderson 44). These categories exist ahistorically and deny non-westerners the ability to act because if history cannot be perceived then it is difficult to see the future. That is to say, because non-western subjects in the past are not seen as historical actors, as people whose actions effected the future, then, in the present, they are unable to access to powerful arguments from history. Historians' usual methodology casts Indigenous people as the 'subjects' of history which is about them, not by them or for them (Tuhiwai Smith 7, 30-32, 144-5). Aboriginal people are characterised as prehistoric, ancient, timeless and dying (Birch 150). This way of thinking about Indigenous Australia removes all agency from Aboriginal actors and restoring agency has been a goal of Aboriginal activists and historians. Aileen Moreton Robinson discusses how Aboriginal resistance is embodied through "oral history (and) social memory," engaging with how Aboriginal actors represent themselves and are represented in relation to the past and historical settings is an important act ("Introduction" 127).Redfern Now and Cleverman were produced through the ABC's Indigenous Department and made by Indigenous filmmakers, whereas Glitch and The Secret River are from the ABC drama department and were made by white Australians. The different programs also have different generic backgrounds. Redfern Now and The Secret River are different forms of realist texts; social realism and historical realism. Cleverman and Glitch, however, are speculative fiction texts that can be argued to be in the mode of magical realism, they "denaturalise the real and naturalise the marvellous" they are also closely tied ideas of retelling colonial stories and "resignify(ing) colonial territories and pasts" (Siskind 834-5).Redfern Now was produced by Blackfella Films for the ABC. It was, with much fanfare, released as the first drama made for television, by Aboriginal people and about Aboriginal people (Blundell). The central concerns of the program are issues in the present, its plots and settings are entirely contemporary. In this way it circumvents the idea and standard representation of Indigenous Australians as ancient and timeless. It places the characters in the program very much in the present.However, one episode "Stand Up" does obliquely engage with historical concerns. In this episode a young boy, Joel Shields, gets a scholarship to an expensive private school. When he attends his first school assembly he does not sing the national anthem with the other students. This leads to a dispute with the school that forms the episode's plot. As punishment for not singing Joel is set an assignment to research the anthem, which he does and he finds the song off-putting – with the words 'boundless plains to share' particularly disconcerting. His father supports him saying "it's not our song" and compares Joel singing it to a "whitefella doing a corrobboree". The national anthem stands metaphorically for the white hegemony in Australia.The school itself is also a metaphor for hegemony. The camerawork lingers on the architecture which is intended to imply historical strength and imperviousness to challenge or change. The school stands for all the force of history white Australia can bring to bear, but in Australia, all architecture of this type is a lie, or at least an exaggeration – the school cannot be more than 200 years old and is probably much more recent.Many of the things the program says about history are conveyed in half sentences or single glances. Arguably this is because of its aesthetic mode – social realism – that prides itself on its mimicry of everyday life and in everyday life people are unlikely to set out arguments in organised dot-point form. At one point the English teacher quotes Orwell, "those who control the past control the future", which seems overt but it is stated off-screen as Joel walks into the room. This seeming aside is a statement about history and directly recalls central arguments of the history wars, which make strong political arguments about the effects of the past, and perceptions of the past, on the present and future. Despite its subtlety, this story takes place within the context of the history wars: it is about who controls the past. The subtlety of the discussion of history allows the film makers the freedom to comment on the content and effects of history and the history wars without appearing didactic. They discuss the how history has effected the present history without having to make explicit historical causes.The other recent television drama in the realist tradition is The Secret River. This was an adaptation of a novel by Kate Grenville. It deals with Aboriginal history from the perspective of white people, in this way it differs from Redfern Now which discusses the issues from the perspective of Aboriginal people. The plot concerns a man transported to Australia as a convict in the early 19th century. The man is later freed and, with his family, attempts to move to the Hawksbury river region. The land they try to settle is, of course, already in use by Aboriginal people. The show sets up the definitional conflict between the idea of settler and invader and suggests the difference between the two is a matter of perspective. Of the shows I am examining, it is the most direct in its representation of historical massacre and brutality. It represents what Felicity Collins described as a back-tracking text recapitulating the colonial past in the light of recovered knowledge. However, from an Indigenous perspective it is another settler tale implying Aboriginal people were wiped out at the time of colonisation (Godwin).The Secret River is told entirely from the perspective of the invaders. Even as it portrays their actions as wrong, it also suggests they were unavoidable or inevitable. Therefore it does what many western histories of Indigenous people do – it classifies and categorises. It sets limits on interpretation. It is also limited by its genre, as a straightforward historical drama and an adaptation, it can only tell its story in a certain way. The television series, like the book before it, prides itself on its 'accurate' rendition of an historical story. However, because it comes from such a very narrow perspective it falls into the trap of categorising histories that might have usefully been allowed to develop further.The program is based on a novel that attracted controversy of its own. It became part of ongoing historiographical debate about the relationship between fiction and history. The book's author Kate Grenville claimed to have written a kind of affectively accurate history that actual history can never convey because the emotions of the past are hidden from the present. The book was critiqued by historians including Inge Clendinnen, who argued that many of the claims made about its historical accuracy were largely overblown (Clendinnen). The book is not the same as the TV program, but the same limitations identified by Clendinnen are present in the television text. However, I would not agree with Clendinnen that formal history is any better. I argue that the limitation of both these mimetic genres can be escaped in speculative fiction.In Glitch, Yurana, a small town in rural Victoria becomes, for no apparent reason, the site of seven people rising from the dead. Each person is from a different historical period. None are Indigenous. They are not zombies but simply people who used to be dead. One of the first characters to appear in the series is an Aboriginal teenager, Beau, we see from his point of view the characters crawling from their graves. He becomes friendly with one of the risen characters, Patrick Fitzgerald, who had been the town's first mayor. At first Fitzgerald's story seems to be one of working class man made good in colonial Australia - a standard story of Australian myth and historiography. However, it emerges that Fitzgerald was in love with an Aboriginal woman called Kalinda and Beau is his descendant. Fitzgerald, once he becomes aware of how he has been remembered by history, decides to revise the history of the town – he wants to reclaim his property from his white descendants and give it to his Indigenous descendants. Over the course of the six episodes Fitzgerald moves from being represented as a violent, racist boor who had inexplicably become the town's mayor, to being a romantic whose racism was mostly a matter of vocabulary. Beau is important to the plot and he is a sympathetic character but he is not central and he is a child. Indigenous people in the past have no voice in this story – when flashbacks are shown they are silent, and in the present their voices are present but not privileged or central to the plot.The program demonstrates a profoundly metaphorical relationship with the past – the past has literally come to life bringing with it surprising buried histories. The program represents some dominant themes in Australian historiography – other formerly dead characters include a convict-turned-bush-ranger, a soldier who was at Gallipoli, two Italian migrants and a girl who died as a result of sexual violence – but it does not engage directly with Indigenous history. Indigenous people's stories are told only in relation to the stories of white people. The text's magical realism allows a less prescriptive relationship with the past than in The Secret River but it is still restricted in its point of view and allows only limited agency to Aboriginal actors.The text's magical realism allows for a thought-provoking representation of relationships with the past. The town of Yurana is represented as a place deeply committed to the representation and glorification of its past. Its main street contains statues of its white founders and war memorials, one of its main social institutions is the RSL, its library preserves relics of the past and its publican is a war history buff. All these indicate that the past is central to the town's identity. The risen dead however dispute and revise almost every aspect of this past. Even the history that is unmentioned in the town's apparent official discourse, such as the WWII internment camp and the history of crimes, is disputed by the different stories of the past that the risen dead have to tell. This indicates the uncertainty of the past, even when it seems literally set in stone it can still be revised. Nonetheless the history of Indigenous people is only revised in ways that re-engage with white history.Cleverman is a magical realist text profoundly based in allegory. The story concerns the emergence into a near future society of a group of people known as the "Hairies." It is never made clear where they came from or why but it seems they appeared recently and are unable to return. They are an allegory for refugees. Hairypeople are part of many Indigenous Australian stories, the show's creator, Ryan Griffen, stated that "there are different hairy stories throughout Australia and they differ in each country. You have some who are a tall, some are short, some are aggressive, some are friendly. We got to sort of pick which ones will fit for us and create the Hairies for our show" (Bizzaca).The Hairies are forced to live in an area called the Zone, which, prior to the arrival of the Hairy people, was a place where Aboriginal people lived. This place might be seen as a metaphor for Redfern but it is also an allegory for Australia's history of displacing Aboriginal people and moving and restricting them to missions and reserves. The Zone is becoming increasingly securitised and is also operating as a metaphor for Australia's immigration detention centres. The prison the Hairy characters, Djukura and Bunduu, are confined to is yet another metaphor, this time for both the over-representation of Aboriginal people in prison and the securitisation of immigration detention. These multiple allegorical movements place Australia's present refugee policies and historical treatment of Aboriginal people within the same lens. They also place the present, the past and the future within the same narrative space.Most of the cast is Aboriginal and much of the character interaction is between Aboriginal people and Hairies, with both groups played by Indigenous actors. The disadvantages suffered by Indigenous people are part of the story and clearly presented as affecting the behaviour of characters but within the story Aboriginal people are more advantaged than Hairies, as they have systems, relationships and structures that Hairy people lack. The fact that so much of the interaction in the story is between Indigenous people and Hairies is important: it can be seen to be an interaction between Aboriginal people and Aboriginal mythology or between Indigenous past and present. It demonstrates Aboriginal identities being created in relation to other Aboriginal identities and not in relation to white people, where in this narrative, Aboriginal people have an identity other than that allowed for in colonialist terms.Cleverman does not really engage with the history of white invasion. The character who speaks most about this part of Aboriginal history and whose stated understanding of himself is based on that identity is Waruu. But Waruu is also a villain whose self-identity is also presented as jealous and dishonest. However, despite only passing mentions of westernised history the show is deeply concerned with a relationship with the past. The program engages with Aboriginal traditions about the past that have nothing to do with white history. It presents a much longer view of history than that of white Australia. It engages with the Aboriginal tradition of the Cleverman - demonstrated in the character of Uncle Jimmy who passes a nulla nulla (knob-headed hardwood club), as a symbol of the past, to his nephew Koen and tells him he is the new Cleverman. Cleverman demonstrates a discussion of Australian history with the potential to ignore white people. It doesn't ignore them, it doesn't ignore the invasion but it presents the possibility that it could be ignored.There is a danger in this sort of representation of the past that Aboriginal people could be relegated to the type of ahistorical, metahistorical myths that comprise colonialist history's representation of Indigenous people (Birch). But Cleverman's magical realist, near future setting tends to undermine this. It grounds representation in history through text and metaphor and then expands the definition.The four programs have different relationships with the past but all of them engage with it. The programs are both restrained and freed by the genres they operate in. It is much easier to escape the bounds of formal history in the genre of magical realism and both Glitch and Cleverman do this but have significantly different ways of dealing with history. "Stand up" and The Secret River both operate within more formally realist structures. The Secret River gives us an emotional reading of the past and a very affective one. However, it cuts off avenues of interpretation by presenting a seemingly inevitable tragedy. Through use of metaphor and silence "Stand up" presents a much more productive relationship with the past – seeing it as an ongoing argument rather than a settled one. Glitch engages with the past as a topic that is not settled and that can therefore be changed whereas Cleverman expands our definition of past and understanding of the past through allegory.It is possible to draw further connections. Those stories created by Indigenous people do not engage with the specifics of traditional dominant Australian historiography. However, they work with the assumption that everyone already knows this historiography. They do not re-present the pain of the past, instead they deal with it in oblique terms with allegory. Whereas the programs made by non-Indigenous Australians are much more overt in their representation of the sins of the past, they overtly engage with the History Wars in specific historical arenas in which those wars were fought. The non-Indigenous shows align themselves with the revisionist view of history but they do so in a very different way than the Indigenous shows.ReferencesAnderson, Ian. "Introduction: The Aboriginal Critique of Colonial Knowing." Blacklines: Contemporary Critical Writing by Indigenous Australians. Ed. Michele Grossman. Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 2003.Birch, Tony. "'Nothing Has Changed': The Making and Unmaking of Koori Culture." Blacklines: Contemporary Critical Writing by Indigenous Australians. Ed. Michele Grossman. Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 2003.Bizzaca, Chris. "The World of Cleverman." Screen Australia 2016.Blundell, Graeme. "Redfern Now Delves into the Lives of Ordinary People." The Australian 26 Oct. 2013: News Review.Clark, Anna. History's Children: History Wars in the Classroom. Sydney: New South, 2008.Clendinnen, Inga. “The History Question: Who Owns the Past?” The Quarterly Essay. Melbourne: Black Inc., 2006.Collins, Felicity. "After Dispossession: Blackfella Films and the Politics of Radical Hope." The Routledge Companion to Cinema and Politics. Eds. Yannis Tzioumakis and Claire Molloy. New York: Routledge, 2016.Day, Mark. "Our Relations with the Past." Philosophia 36.4 (2008): 417-27.Ellis, John. Seeing Things: Television in the Age of Uncertainty. London: I.B. Tauris, 2000.Froeyman, Anton. "The Ideal of Objectivity and the Public Role of the Historian: Some Lessons from the Historikerstreit and the History Wars." Rethinking History 20.2 (2016): 217-34.Godwin, Carisssa Lee. "Shedding the 'Victim Narrative' for Tales of Magic, Myth and Superhero Pride." The Conversation 2016.Lloyd, Christopher. "Historiographic Schools." A Companion to the Philosophy of History and Historiography Ed. Tucker, Aviezer. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009.Moreton-Robinson, Aileen. "Introduction: Resistance, Recovery and Revitalisation." Blacklines: Contemporary Critical Writing by Indigenous Australians. Ed. Michele Grossman. Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 2003.———. "The White Man's Burden." Australian Feminist Studies 26.70 (2011): 413-31.Reynolds, Henry. The Other Side of the Frontier: Aboriginal Resistance to the European Invasion of Australia. 2nd ed. Ringwood, Vic.: Penguin Books, 1995.Siskind, Mariano. "Magical Realism." The Cambridge History of Postcolonial Literature. Vol. 2. Ed. Ato Quayson. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012. 833-68.Tuhiwai Smith, Linda. Decolonizing Methodologies Research and Indigenous Peoples. 2nd ed. London: Zed Books, 2012.Windschuttle, Keith. The Fabrication of Aboriginal History. Paddington, NSW: Macleay Press, 2002.

AbstractThis is the first study to investigate instrumental activities of daily living in older autistic adults. We conducted interviews with fifteen adults (mean age = 60.1, SD = 7.4, range = 50–73) from Australia with no intellectual disability. Analysis included both deductive and inductive steps, to categorise responses using the Occupational Performance Model Australia and identify themes across participants’ experiences. Strengths and challenges were unique to the individual, as were the methods they had developed to manage tasks. Challenges occurred mostly at the interaction between aspects of the environment (sensory, cognitive, social and cultural) and personal factors such as health conditions and sensory sensitivities. Enhanced person-environment fit is needed, as is a shift in wider sociocultural attitudes to enable comfort and autonomy in later life.

AbstractThere is a recognised need for reported national data that inform health policy, health professions, and consumers about the wellbeing of Australians with cancer and other chronic conditions. International initiatives have demonstrated the viability and benefits of utilising population-based cancer registries to monitor the prevalence and trajectory of health-related quality of life (HRQOL) outcomes among people with cancer. Establishing a similar level of monitoring in Australia would require timely access to health data collected by publicly funded, population-based cancer registries, and the capacity to link this information across jurisdictions. Combining information from different sources via data linkage is an efficient and cost-effective way to maximise how data are used to inform population health and policy development. However, linking health datasets has historically been highly restricted, resource-intensive, and costly in Australia due to complex and outdated legislative requirements, duplicative approval processes, and differing policy frameworks in each state and territory. This has resulted in significant research waste due to underutilisation of existing data, duplication of research efforts and resources, and data not being translated into decision-making. Recognising these challenges, from 2015 to 2017 the Productivity Commission investigated options for improving data availability and use in Australia, considering factors such as privacy, security, and intellectual property. The inquiry report recommended significant reforms for Australian legislation, including the creation of a data sharing and release structure to improve access to data for research and policy development purposes. This paper discusses (1) opportunities in HRQOL research enabled by data linkage, (2) barriers to data access and use in Australia and the implications for waste in HRQOL research, and (3) proposed legislative reforms for improving data availability and use in Australia.

People with intellectual disability access innovative technologies in disability community centres in Australia, under the guidance of support workers. This paper investigates the perspectives of 15 support workers and 5 managers across four community centres on the introduction and use of technology like tablets, video games, 3D printing, virtual reality and social robots. They had diverse views on who is responsible for facilitating, embedding and shaping technology for learning life skills and socializing. We found technology use to be driven by facilitator's knowledge (pre-existing, observed or trained), interests, the value they place on the interactions afforded by the technology and organization values. We discuss how future designs can emphasise communities of users while empowering individuals to achieve their goals. We suggest co-design strategies for assistive technology that involve support workers in the dual roles of proxy and co-user. We finally discuss how broader organisational factors can influence appropriation and use.

PurposeThis study explored the current and desired use of web-search, particularly for health information, by adults with intellectual disability.Design/methodology/approachThe authors surveyed 39 participants who were in supported employment or attending day centers in Australia. The survey, delivered through structured interviews, increased participation with data in a form of the participants' narratives. The responses were analyzed through a form of thematic analysis.FindingsThis study's results present the participants' daily health information interests, approaches to finding information and expectations for self-sufficiency. Participants' interest was in information to stay healthy rather than purely clinical information. The participants were keen to use online information in, accessible as well as entertaining and engaging formats. Supporting others close to the participants was the prominent intention of participants' health information access. Participants showed aspirations for an autonomous life by wanting to learn how to search.Research limitations/implicationsThe findings of this study provide some avenues for consumer health information access to be respectful and inclusive of users with intellectual disability, both from an accessible design perspective as well as from a learning and support standpoint.Originality/valueThis study complements other human–computer interaction (HCI) studies which observe how adults with intellectual disability can be supported to engage with web search; this study offers the adults' verbalized perspectives on how adults wish to interact with web searching for health information, nuanced by adults' existing abilities and support needs.

Stand-up is a global phenomenon. It is Australia’s most significant form of advocatorial theatre and a major platform for challenging stigma and prejudice. In the twenty-first century, Australian stand-up is transforming into a more culturally diverse form and extending the spectrum of material addressing human rights. Since the 1980s Australian stand-up routines have moved beyond the old colonial targets of England and America, and Indigenous comics such as Kevin Kopinyeri, Andy Saunders, and Shiralee Hood have gained an established following. Additionally, the turn to Asia is evident not just in trade agreements and the higher education market but also in cultural exchange and in the billing of emerging Asian stand-ups at mainstream events. The major cultural driver for stand-up is the Melbourne International Comedy Festival (MICF), Australia’s largest cultural event, now over 30 years old, and an important site for dissecting constructs of democracy and nationhood. As John McCallum has observed, popular humour in post-World War II Australia drew on widespread feelings of “displacement, migration and otherness—resonant topics in a country of transplanted people and a dispossessed indigenous population arguing over a distinct Australian identity” (205–06). This essay considers the traditional comic strategies of first and second generation immigrant stand-ups in Australia and compares them with the new wave of post 9/11 Asian-Australian and Middle-Eastern-Australian stand-ups whose personas and interrogations are shifting the paradigm. Self-identifying Muslim stand-ups challenge myths of dominant Australian identity in ways which many still find confronting. Furthermore, the theories of incongruity, superiority, and psychological release re-rehearsed in traditional humour studies, by figures such as Palmer (1994) and Morreall (2009), are predicated on models of humour which do not always serve live performance, especially stand-up with its relational dependence on audience interaction.Stand-ups who immigrated to Australia as children or whose parents immigrated and struggled against adversity are important symbols both of the Australian comedy industry and of a national self-understanding of migrant resilience and making good. Szubanski and Berger hail from earlier waves of European migrants in the 1950s and 1960s. Szubanski has written eloquently of her complex Irish-Polish heritage and documented how the “hand-me-down trinkets of family and trauma” and “the culture clash of competing responses to calamity” have been integral to the development of her comic success and the making of her Aussie characters (347). Rachel Berger, the child of Polish holocaust survivors, advertises and connects both identities on her LinkedIn page: “After 23 years as a stand-up comedian, growing up with Jewish guilt and refugee parents, Rachel Berger knows more about survival than any idiot attending tribal council on reality TV.”Anh Do, among Australia’s most famous immigrant stand-ups, identifies as one of the Vietnamese “boat people” and arrived as a toddler in 1976. Do’s tale of his family’s survival against the odds and his creation of a persona which constructs the grateful, happy immigrant clown is the staple of his very successful routine and increasingly problematic. It is a testament to the power of Do’s stand-up that many did not perceive the toll of the loss of his birth country; the grinding poverty; and the pain of his father’s alcoholism, violence, and survivor guilt until the publication of Do’s ironically titled memoir The Happiest Refugee. In fact, the memoir draws on many of the trauma narratives that are still part of his set. One of Do’s most legendary routines is the story of his family’s sea journey to Australia, told here on ABC1’s Talking Heads:There were forty of us on a nine metre fishing boat. On day four of the journey we spot another boat. As the boat gets closer we realise it’s a boatload of Thai pirates. Seven men with knives, machetes and guns get on our boat and they take everything. One of the pirates picks up the smallest child, he lifts up the baby and rips open the baby’s nappy and dollars fall out. And the pirate decides to spare the kid’s life. And that’s a good thing cos that’s my little brother Khoa Do who in 2005 became Young Australian of the Year. And we were saved on the fifth day by a big German merchant ship which took us to a refugee camp in Malaysia and we were there for around three months before Australia says, come to Australia. And we’re very glad that happened. So often we heard Mum and Dad say—what a great country. How good is this place? And the other thing—kids, as you grow up, do as much as you can to give back to this great country and to give back to others less fortunate.Do’s strategy is apparently one of genuflection and gratitude, an adoption of what McCallum refers to as an Australian post-war tradition of the comedy of inadequacy and embarrassment (210–14). Journalists certainly like to bill Do as the happy clown, framing articles about him with headlines like Rosemary Neill’s “Laughing through Adversity.” In fact, Do is direct about his gallows humour and his propensity to darkness: his humour, he says, is a means of countering racism, of “being able to win people over who might have been averse to being friends with an Asian bloke,” but Neill does not linger on this, nor on the revelation that Do felt stigmatised by his refugee origins and terrified and shamed by the crippling poverty of his childhood in Australia. In The Happiest Refugee, Do reveals that, for him, the credibility of his routines with predominantly white Australian audiences lies in the crafting of himself as an “Aussie comedian up there talking about his working-class childhood” (182). This is not the official narrative that is retold even if it is how Do has endeared himself to Australians, and ridding himself of the happy refugee label may yet prove difficult. Suren Jayemanne is well known for his subtle mockery of multiculturalist rhetoric. In his 2016 MICF show, Wu-Tang Clan Name Generator, Jayemanne played on the supposed contradiction of his Sri Lankan-Malaysian heritage against his teenage years in the wealthy suburb of Malvern in Melbourne, his private schooling, and his obsession with hip hop and black American culture. Jayemanne’s strategy is to gently confound his audiences, leading them slowly up a blind alley. He builds up a picture of how to identify Sri Lankan parents, supposedly Sri Lankan qualities such as an exceptional ability at maths, and Sri Lankan employment ambitions which he argues he fulfilled in becoming an accountant. He then undercuts his story by saying he has recently realised that his suburban background, his numerical abilities, his love of black music, and his rejection of accountancy in favour of comedy, in fact prove conclusively that he has, all along, been white. He also confesses that this is a bruising disappointment. Jayemanne exposes the emptiness of the conceits of white, brown, and black and of invented identity markers and plays on his audiences’ preconceptions through an old storyteller’s device, the shaggy dog story. The different constituencies in his audiences enjoy his trick equally, from quite different perspectives.Diana Nguyen, a second generation Vietnamese stand-up, was both traumatised and politicised by Pauline Hanson when she was a teenager. Hanson described Nguyen’s community in Dandenong as “yellow Asian people” (Filmer). Nguyen’s career as a community development worker combating racism relates directly to her activity as a stand-up: migrant stories are integral to Australian history and Nguyen hypothesises that the “Australian psyche of being invaded or taken over” has reignited over the question of Islamic fundamentalism and expresses her concern to Filmer about the Muslim youths under her care.Nguyen’s alarm about the elision of Islamic radicalism with Muslim culture drives an agenda that has led the new generation of self-identified Muslim stand-ups since 9/11. This post 9/11 world is described by Wajahat as gorged with “exaggerated fear, hatred, and hostility toward Islam and Muslim [. . . ] and perpetuated by negative discrimination and the marginalisation and exclusion of Muslims from social, political, and civic life in western societies.” In Australia, Aamer Rahman, Muhamed Elleissi, Khaled Khalafalla, and Nazeem Hussain typify this newer, more assertive form of second generation immigrant stand-up—they identify as Muslim (whether religious or not), as brown, and as Australian. They might be said to symbolise a logical response to Ghassan Hage’s famous White Nation (1998), which argues that a white supremacism underlies the mindset of the white elite in Australia. Their positioning is more nuanced than previous generations of stand-up. Nazeem Hussain’s routines mark a transformation in Australian stand-up, as Waleed Aly has argued: “ethnic comedy” has hitherto been about the parading of stereotypes for comfortable, mainstream consumption, about “minstrel characters” [. . .] but Hussain interrogates his audiences in every direction—and aggravates Muslims too. Hussain’s is the world of post 9/11 Australian Muslims. It’s about more than ethnic stereotyping. It’s about being a consistent target of political opportunism, where everyone from the Prime Minister to the Foreign Minister to an otherwise washed-up backbencher with a view on burqas has you in their sights, where bombs detonate in Western capitals and unrelated nations are invaded.Understandably, a prevalent theme among the new wave of Muslim comics, and not just in Australia, is the focus on the reading of Muslims as manifestly linked with Islamic State (IS). Jokes about mistaken identity, plane crashes, suicide bombing, and the Koran feature prominently. English-Pakistani Muslim, Shazia Mirza, gained comedy notoriety in the UK in the wake of 9/11 by introducing her routine with the words: “My name’s Shazia Mirza. At least that’s what it says on my pilot’s licence” (Bedell). Stand-ups Negin Farsad, Ahmed Ahmed, and Dean Obeidalla are all also activists challenging prevailing myths about Islam, skin colour and terrorism in America. Egyptian-American Ahmed Ahmed acquired prominence for telling audiences in the infamous Axis of Evil Comedy Tour about how his life had changed much for the worse since 9/11. Ahmed Ahmed was the alias used by one of Osama Bin Laden’s devotees and his life became on ongoing struggle with anti-terrorism officials doing security checks (he was once incarcerated) and with the FBI who were certain that the comedian was among their most wanted terrorists. Similarly, Obeidalla, an Italian-Palestinian-Muslim, notes in his TEDx talk that “If you have a Muslim name, you are probably immune to identity theft.” His narration of a very sudden experience of becoming an object of persecution and of others’ paranoia is symptomatic of a shared understanding of a post 9/11 world among many Muslim comics: “On September 10th 2001 I went to bed as a white American and I woke up an Arab,” says Obeidalla, still dazed from the seismic shift in his life.Hussain and Khalafalla demonstrate a new sophistication and directness in their stand-up, and tackle their majority white audiences head-on. There is no hint of the apologetic or deferential stance performed by Anh Do. Many of the jokes in their routines target controversial or taboo issues, which up until recently were shunned in Australian political debate, or are absent or misrepresented in mainstream media. An Egyptian-Australian born in Saudi Arabia, Khaled Khalafalla arrived on the comedy scene in 2011, was runner-up in RAW, Australia’s most prestigious open mic competition, and in 2013 won the best of the Melbourne International Comedy Festival for Devious. Khalafalla’s shows focus on racist stereotypes and identity and he uses a range of Middle Eastern and Indian accents to broach IS recruitment, Muslim cousin marriages, and plane crashes. His 2016 MICF show, Jerk, was a confident and abrasive routine exploring relationships, drug use, the extreme racism of Reclaim Australia rallies, controversial visa checks by Border Force’s Operation Fortitude, and Islamophobia. Within the first minute of his routine, he criticises white people in the audience for their woeful refusal to master Middle Eastern names, calling out to the “brown woman” in the audience for support, before lining up a series of jokes about the (mis)pronunciation of his name. Khalafalla derives his power on stage by what Oliver Double calls “uncovering.” Double contends that “one of the most subversive things stand-up can do is to uncover the unmentionable,” subjects which are difficult or impossible to discuss in everyday conversation or the broadcast media (292). For instance, in Jerk Khalafalla discusses the “whole hating halal movement” in Australia as a metaphor for exposing brutal prejudice: Let me break it down for you. Halal is not voodoo. It’s just a blessing that Muslims do for some things, food amongst other things. But, it’s also a magical spell that turns some people into fuckwits when they see it. Sometimes people think it’s a thing that can get stuck to your t-shirt . . . like ‘Oh fuck, I got halal on me’ [Australian accent]. I saw a guy the other day and he was like Fuck halal, it funds terrorism. And I was like, let me show you the true meaning of Islam. I took a lamb chop out of my pocket and threw it in his face. And, he was like Ah, what was that? A lamb chop. Oh, I fucking love lamb chops. And, I say you fool, it’s halal and he burst into flames.In effect, Khalafalla delivers a contemptuous attack on the white members of his audience, but at the same time his joke relies on those same audience members presuming that they are morally and intellectually superior to the individual who is the butt of the joke. Khalafalla’s considerable charm is a help in this tricky send-up. In 2015 the Australian Department of Defence recognised his symbolic power and invited him to join the Afghanistan Task Force to entertain the troops by providing what Doran describes as “home-grown Australian laughs” (7). On stage in Australia, Khalafalla constructs a persona which is an outsider to the dominant majority and challenges the persecution of Muslim communities. Ironically, on the NATO base, Khalafalla’s act was perceived as representing a diverse but united Australia. McCallum has pointed to such contradictions, moments where white Australia has shown itself to be a “culture which at first authenticates emigrant experience and later abrogates it in times of defiant nationalism” (207). Nazeem Hussain, born in Australia to Sri Lankan parents, is even more confrontational. His stand-up is born of his belief that “comedy protects us from the world around us” and is “an evolutionary defence mechanism” (8–9). His ground-breaking comedy career is embedded in his work as an anti-racism activist and asylum seeker supporter and shaped by his second-generation migrant experiences, law studies, community youth work, and early mentorship by American Muslim comic trio Allah Made Me Funny. He is well-known for his pioneering television successes Legally Brown and Salam Café. In his stand-up, Hussain often dwells witheringly on the failings and peculiarities of white people’s attempts to interact with him. Like all his routines, his sell-out show Fear of the Brown Planet, performed with Aamer Rahman from 2004–2008, explored casual, pathologised racism. Hussain deliberately over-uses the term “white people” in his routines as a provocation and deploys a reverse racism against his majority white audiences, knowing that many will be squirming. “White people ask me how can Muslims have fun if they don’t drink? Muslims have fun! Of course we have fun! You’ve seen us on the news.” For Hussain stand-up is “fundamentally an art of protest,” to be used as “a tool by communities and people with ideas that challenge and provoke the status quo with a spirit of counterculture” (Low 1–3). His larger project is to humanise Muslims to white Australians so that “they see us firstly as human beings” (1–3). Hussain’s 2016 MICF show, Hussain in the Membrane, both satirised media hype and hysterical racism and pushed for a better understanding of the complex problems Muslim communities face in Australia. His show also connected issues to older colonial traditions of racism. In a memorable and beautifully crafted tirade, Hussain inveighed against the 2015 Bendigo riots which occurred after local Muslims lodged an application to Bendigo council to build a mosque in the sleepy Victorian town. [YELLING in an exaggerated Australian accent] No we don’t want Muslims! NO we don’t want Muslims—to come invade Bendigo by application to the local council! That is the most bureaucratic invasion of all times. No place in history has been invaded by lodging an application to a local council. Can you see ISIS running around chasing town planners? Of course not, Muslims like to wait 6–8 months to invade! That’s a polite way to invade. What if white people invaded that way? What a better world we’d be living in. If white people invaded Australia that way, we’d be able to celebrate Australia Day on the same day without so much blood on our hands. What if Captain Cook came to Australia and said [in a British accent] Awe we would like to apply to invade this great land and here is our application. [In an Australian accent] Awe sorry, mate, rejected, but we’ll give you Bendigo.As Waleed Aly sees it, the Australian cultural majority is still “unused to hearing minorities speak with such assertiveness.” Hussain exposes “a binary world where there’s whiteness, and then otherness. Where white people are individuals and non-white people (a singular group) are not” (Aly). Hussain certainly speaks as an insider and goes so far as recognising his coloniser’s guilt in relation to indigenous Australians (Tan). Aly well remembers the hate mail he and Hussain received when they worked on Salam Café: “The message was clear. We were outsiders and should behave as such. We were not real Australians. We should know our place, as supplicants, celebrating the nation’s unblemished virtue.” Khalafalla, Rahman, Elleissi, and Hussain make clear that the new wave of comics identify as Muslim and Australian (which they would argue many in the audiences receive as a provocation). They have zero tolerance of racism, their comedy is intimately connected with their political activism, and they have an unapologetically Australian identity. No longer is it a question of whether the white cultural majority in Australia will anoint them as worthy and acceptable citizens, it is a question of whether the audiences can rise to the moral standards of the stand-ups. The power has been switched. For Hussain laughter is about connection: “that person laughs because they appreciate the point and whether or not they accept what was said was valid isn’t important. What matters is, they’ve understood” (Low 5). 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