Journal articles on the topic 'Refugees – Psychological aspects – South Africa'

Aspects of the indigenous healing system in contemporary South African society Anthropological research in recent years has clearly shown that health service programmes of technologically advanced societies cannot simply be transplanted to developing societies without taking specific cultural factors into account (Loudon, 1976; Kleinman, 1980; Jansen, 1982). The extensive practice of traditional healing in South Africa has long been established and appears to be gaining momentum (Holdstock, 1979). The different needs of First- and Third-world peoples within South Africa, as manifested in the existence of cultural-specific mental health care and educational systems, are indeed compelling reasons for examining the situation.

Migration, particularly when triggered by economic or political hardship, has significant psychological and socio-economic consequences for the individuals concerned. While an impressive amount of research has been conducted by social workers into migration in North America, Europe and Asia, the same cannot be said for Africa. The continent has high numbers of displaced people and refugees, yet no Africa-linked research on migration has been published by the social work profession. This article addresses this gap in the literature by focusing specifically on Zimbabwean day labourers in South Africa. Survey results reveal that these migrants face intense competition for scarce jobs, and thus economic uncertainty, and are often victimised. It is incumbent upon the social work profession to expose the vulnerable conditions in which day labourers have to operate, and to mobilise a coordinated response from relevant government and non-profit organisations in the interests of greater social justice and harmony.

Purpose – The purpose of this paper is to measure the levels of psychological distress in adults entering Western Australia (WA) as refugees through the Australian Humanitarian Programme. To determine if the introduction of mental health screening instruments impacts on the level of referrals for further psychological/psychiatric assessment and treatment. Design/methodology/approach – Participants were 300 consecutive consenting refugee adults attending the Humanitarian Entrant Health Service in Perth, WA. This service is government funded for the general health screening of refugees. The Kessler-10 (K10) and the World Health Organisation’s post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) screener were the principal outcome measures used. Findings – Refugees had a high rate of current probable PTSD (17.2 per cent) as measured with the PTSD screener and mean K10 scores were significantly higher than general population norms. The K10 showed high accuracy for discriminating those with or without probable PTSD. Being married and having more children increased the risk of probable PTSD. In regard to region of origin, refugees from Western and Southern Asia had significantly higher scores on both screeners followed by those from Africa with those from South-Eastern Asia having the lowest scores. Referral rate for psychiatric/psychological treatment was 18 per cent compared to 4.2 per cent in the year prior to the study. Practical implications – This study demonstrates increased psychological distress including a high rate of probable PTSD in a recently arrived multi-ethnic refugee population and also demonstrates significant variations based on region of origin. In addition, it supports the feasibility of using brief screening instruments to improve identification and referral of refugees with significant psychological distress in the context of a comprehensive general medical review. Originality/value – This was an Australian study conducted in a non-psychiatric setting. The outcomes of this study pertain to refugee mental health assessed in a general health setting. The implications of the study findings are of far reaching relevance, inclusive of primary care doctors and general physicians as well as mental health clinicians. In particular the authors note that the findings of this study are to the authors’ knowledge unique in the refugee mental health literature as the participants are recently arrived refugees from diverse ethnic groups.

Postmodern critiques problematise the import of social psychology into non-western contexts on epistemological and ideological grounds. Yet, British approaches to the discipline remain popular with critical social psychologists in South Africa. One such import product is discourse analysis, which, as a “postmodern” social psychology, seemingly resolves challenges of “intellectual colonialism” by endorsing a constructionist understanding of social psychological phenomena. However, by extending a conception of language into a discursive ontology enables only a partial social psychological understanding of the often insidious nature of experience and social conduct even when discourses change. What is required is an understanding of these aspects of social agency as also pre-reflexively and non-propositionally patterned, making necessary a conception of culture that works, so to speak, directly on the body. This remains impossible in a theoretical system that has to fall back on the notions of reflexivity and ideology in order to explain the social and political determination of experience and meaningful conduct.

Abstract South Africa was one of the first states to conclude an Additional Protocol with the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) in 2002, allowing the IAEA greater right of access to safeguard nuclear activities and material. In light of this, some observers in the arms control community find it odd that South Africa’s representatives at the Nuclear Suppliers Group (NSG) would be the main objectors to making the conclusion of an Additional Protocol a precondition for states wishing to import uranium enrichment and reprocessing technology (classified as sensitive nuclear technology and material). The South African objection should be viewed as only the most recent in a series of objections to measures that may seem obviously in line with nuclear non-proliferation. This emerging pattern in South Africa’s nuclear diplomacy and, more specifically, the objection to the Additional Protocol condition are related to its membership in the Non-Aligned Movement (NAM) and can be investigated through the lens of a politics of denial. Denial is the act of saying “no”, but it is also in psychological parlance the unconscious thought process manifesting a refusal to acknowledge the existence of certain unpleasant aspects of external reality. It will be argued that South Africa’s opposition to the Additional Protocol condition can be explained in the context of two instances of denial: (i) a perceived denial by the nuclear haves of what the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty codifies as an inalienable right to peaceful nuclear technology – something that South Africa is cautious to be complicit in; and (ii) the nuclear weapon states’ denial (the psychological meaning) of the unpleasant reality of a hypocritical nuclear order – something that South Africa wants to expose or at least something with which to engage to limit the effects for itself and other NAM members. The politics of denial does not yield to a pragmatist/utopian dichotomy in the nuclear realm, but instead reveals the dialectic nature of realism and idealism in nuclear politics, especially as reflected in South Africa’s nuclear diplomacy.

This study examined health-related quality of life among a sample of South African women diagnosed with endometriosis. Semistructured interviews were conducted with 25 participants in South Africa. Participants discussed the ways in which endometriosis affected their health-related quality of life. A total of 10 categories emerged from the data, namely, (1) medical factors, (2) physical functioning, (3) psychological functioning, (4) sexual functioning, (5) reproductive functioning, (6) interpersonal functioning, (7) occupational functioning, (8) information and knowledge, (9) healthcare and medical treatment and (10) financial impact and considerations. Each category was described and compared with findings from other health-related quality of life research in women with endometriosis.

During 1985 the Psychological Association of South Africa (PASA) created a Council Committee for Training to investigate various aspects of the training of professional psychologists in South Africa. A summary of the Committee's report is presented here. The investigation included a questionnaire survey of relevant university departments and intern training institutions to establish current training practices and problems. Recommendations include the establishment of a non-binding system of exchange of specialists between training institutions, revision of the internship requirements for several registration categories, the establishment of directed Master's programmes in Research Psychology, and the approval of part-time internships. Most of the recommendations are presently being implemented or investigated further.

“I want my leadership to be judged by the impact of our work on the health of two populations: women and the people of Africa.” This is how Dr. Margaret Chan, the current Director-General of the World Health Organization (WHO), described her leadership mission. The reason behind this mission is evident. Women and girls constitute 70% of the world’s poor and 80% of the world’s refugees. Gender violence against women aged 15–44 is responsible for more deaths and disability than cancer, malaria, traffic accidents, and war. An estimated 350,000 to 500,000 women still die in childbirth every year. The negative health implications of absolute poverty are worst in Sub-Saharan Africa and South Asia. Hence, Chan aims to have the biggest impact on the world’s poorest people.

Nutrition knowledge is an important factor leading to the promotion of good nutrition practice. Good nutrition practices can be linked to assisting,not only individuals,but also society in general to adopt healthy life-style practices that can prolong life. Calls exist within the literature for research that understands further how nutrition knowledge can be promoted at individual and community levels.Answering such research calls can also be the basis for useful practitioner interventions on the ground.Embedded within these calls is the need to also explore the role of individual-psychological factors on aspects of nutrition.Further, there is also need to pay attention to issues that affect the youth market,especially their attitudes towards issues related not only to nutrition practices but also nutrition knowledge. This research gives focus in determining the relationship between self-efficacy as an individual psychological factor and nutrition knowledge amongst a sample of youths residing in a rural community in South Africa. The study adopts a quantitative research approach using the survey design technique involving a sample of 150 youths residing in a rural community. The findings reveal two findings. First,concerning the age and gender,no significant effect existed with nutrition knowledge. Second, self-efficacy significantly predicted nutrition knowledge among the youth. Based on the findings, suggestions are made that promote and link individual self-efficacy beliefs to nutrition knowledge. At the core of this could be channels of expression through behaviour change and information acquisition as key conduits to promoting individual self-efficacy.Finally, practitioners on the ground can use the findings of the research as they implement targeted interventions that promote good nutrition practice. This can involve seeking ways that encourage the development of individual self-efficacy given its link (as found in this study) to nutrition knowledge.

Studies on consumer decision making styles largely focused on determining and replicating these to varying contexts. Literature remains limited on what underlying psychological variables lead to the manifestation of consumer decision making styles. The purpose of this study is to investigate the roles of psychological antecedents and consumer innovativeness in determining consumer decision making styles of millennials in South Africa. A quantitative survey of 320 South African millennials through social groups was utilized. Non-probability convenience sampling determined selection of participants. Reliability statistics were applied to substantiate the effectiveness of this study’s questionnaire and data collection approach. Presentation and interpretation of data were achieved through descriptive and inferential statistics respectively. Findings of this study confirmed that psychological antecedents and consumer innovativeness pose either direct or inverse relationships on consumer decision making styles. Two classifications of consumer decision making styles (utilitarian or hedonic) were discovered to be directed by distinctive sets of psychological antecedents and consumer innovativeness. Findings of this study will assist marketers and mall managers in better understanding what aspects of shopping drive their patrons and how they can best serve them to ensure sustainability.

This article seeks to understand the routes to, and pasts, possibilities and forms of, the interior world of the African or black person in its relations to the politics and economy of superiority and separation. The world that is explored is primarily sexual, and therefore, incorporates embodied life, but of necessity widens to include affective, cognitive, and purposeful aspects. In the face of the scarcity of scholarly psychological literature in the area of the intimate lives of black individuals, particularly when seen against the backcloth of colonial and apartheid arrangements, the article begins by arguing for the importance of turning to other, imaginative, sources for help in trying to comprehend African interiors. It then turns to meanings of intimacy on which interiority is indexed, going on to discuss the notion in relation to the social, political and economic history of South Africa, while taking in the notion of soul along the way. Next, the interest of colonial and apartheid regimes in intimacy is traced, showing that this interest stretched beyond interpersonal relations to the very calculus of discrimination and domination. The article concludes by urging African scholars to take black inner life a little more seriously and without abandoning creativity, still locating such efforts within radical and ethical theoretical frameworks.

The last decade of the 20th century saw another boom in the supply of Soviet-made civil aircraft to the countries of Africa. Hundreds of highly qualified aviation specialists from all post-Soviet states were involved in its operation and maintenance. Market relations, new for many of them, the aggressive way of doing business on the part of entrepreneurs, as well as the complicated military and political situation in some regions, have led to the formation of a certain type of business and personal relationships. Lessons learned over the thirty years of work in special economic and socio-cultural conditions are still actual. Nevertheless, this aspect of Russia-Africa relations remains one of the least studied. Analysis of the narratives of the eyewitnesses - pilots, flight engineers, translators - is still the only way to know more about some hallmarks of the African aviation market, which still has a significant shadow segment. For this study the narratives of a Russian flight engineer who has worked as a flight crew member in various African countries for more than ten years were collected. The recollections presented relate to the first organized trip to South Africa and Mozambique in 1992, and to the later period of private contract work in Angola and Rwanda, and are interesting because they trace the formation of psychological and ethnocultural aspects of business and personal contacts with the employers, local residents and co-workers.

Migrants and refugees coming from Africa, the Middle East, and South Asia have presented European leaders and policymakers with their greatest challenge since the Europe’s economic crisis. Mediterranean external borders of the European Union have been largely affected with tragic events and overwhelming management of huge migration flows, which in the last two to three years have changed their course through the territory of Western Balkan countries. In times when unfortunately, an establishment of a single unified system based on the principle of shared-burden and solidarity is still waiting for practical implementation and execution, a part of the shared-burden and responsibility for managing migration flows have been transferred to the transit countries along the so-called “Balkan route”. The Republic of Macedonia and its role within the Balkan route has been seen crucial and frequently disputed. Understanding the position of this country, requires an overview of few aspects which need to be taken into account. In order to assist this endeavor, this article will attempt to presents the Macedonia experiences with migration movements.

South Africa is an upper-middle income country with high levels of inequality. Young urban black women living in historically disadvantaged suburbs are particularly vulnerable to these socioeconomic inequalities. We conducted a qualitative study (four focus group discussions with young nulliparous women and 13 dual semistructured interviews between women and their mother) to better understand the household environment context of young women living in Soweto (a poor urban predominantly black township) and how this impacts their emotional well-being. Several household-centered issues were identified that impacted the young women’s well-being including both material and relational elements. These issues resulted in household environmental perturbations involving several psychological disturbances (stress, chronic anger, depression, and suicidal thoughts) stated by young women. Urban young black women experience significant material and relational hardships within the household environment. Interventions that aim to optimize young women’s emotional well-being should better recognize both economic and cultural aspects impacting on them.

Aim/Purpose: This work contributes to the expansion of dialogue on doctoral education research in the United States, South Africa, and within the context of higher education internationalization. There is an emphasis on identifying and reinterpreting the doctoral process where racial and cultural aspects have been marginalized by way of institutional and systemic exclusion. An underlying premise is to support representation of marginalized doctoral student experiences to raise questions about participation and contributions within the dialogue on doctoral education research and practice. Background: Decades of reporting provide evidence of statistical portraits on degree at-tainment. Yet, some large-scale reporting does not include representation of historically marginalized doctoral students until the 1970s in the United States, and the 2000s for South Africa. With the growth of internationalization in higher education, examination of the impact of marginalization serves to support representation of diversity-focused discussions in the development of regional international education organizations, multilateral networks, and cross-collaborative teaching and research projects. Methodology: The philosophical approach for this conceptual paper embraces the Sankofa tradition as a process of going back to previous trends in literature on doctoral degree completion to identify opportunities for interrogation and reinterpretation of the doctoral experience. A dimensional framework of diversity and critical race theory, CRT, guides interpretation of racial and cultural perspectives focused on exclusion, structural diversity, and the psychological/behavioral experiences related to doctoral degree completion in the United States and South Africa. A purposeful sampling strategy is used to identify of literature sources where these dimensions are identified. Contribution: A major contribution of this work is the use of a dimensional diversity framework in doctoral education in both the US and South Africa. Findings: Interpretation of previous studies reveal critical insight for understanding the racial and cultural aspects of the doctoral process through comparison of perspectives on the historically marginalized doctoral experience in the United States and South Africa. They include consideration of the social developments leading to the current predicament of marginalization for students, awareness of the different reporting strategies of data, implementation of cultural philosophies to broaden the focus on how to understand student experiences, and an understanding of the differences in student-faculty relationships. Recommendations for Practitioners: Recommendations for practitioners highlight the application of cultural approaches in the development and implementation of practical strategies for supporting historically marginalized doctoral students. Recommendations for Researchers: Recommendations for researchers consider the application of cultural ap-proaches in the development of scholarship supporting historically marginal-ized doctoral students within a global context. Impact on Society: Intended outcomes for this work include increasing awareness about historically marginalized doctoral students. Recommendations are focused on improving their academic and career experiences in the United States and South Africa with global implications regarding their contributions. Future Research: Future research should consider the application of cultural philosophical ap-proaches when examining the historically marginalized doctoral experience within global, national, and local contexts.

The first three articles of this issue are dedicated to aspects of the current debate about and the praxis of environmental questions, and thus of the ecosystems. The fourth article concerns the application of social quality indicators in China. The gaining hypothesis is that a disconnection of the social quality approach of daily circumstances in Japan, Russia, China, Europe, the Americas, Africa, or India from environmental processes results into anachronisms. Without a global consciousness of the unequal consequences of these environmental processes, people in rich countries may be tempted to positively judge the nature of the social quality of their localities or country “as such.” Unknown remains that, seen from a global perspective, macrodetermined reasons for the positive outcomes in rich countries may go at the expense of ecosystems. They may cause, also because of the exportation of substantial elements of problematic (and partly environmental) aspects of the dominant production and reproduction relationships, serious forms of exploitation. Under the same conditions (ceteris paribus), this attack on ecosystems, as well as this exportation and exploitation cause increasingly declining social quality of daily circumstances in poor countries and regions. This will also result into an increase of “climate refugees.” Because of advancing technologically driven transformations—especially regarding communications systems—the interdependencies of countries between the West and the East, as well as between the North and the South, accelerate. Autarkic situations are becoming, or have already been for a long time, a myth.

Over 95% of fire-related burns occur in low- and middle-income countries (LMICs), an important and frequently overlooked global health disparity, yet research is limited from LMICs on how survivors and their caregivers recover and successfully return to their pre-burn lives. This study examines the lived experiences of burn patients and caregivers, the most challenging aspects of their recoveries, and factors that have assisted in recovery. This qualitative study was conducted in KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa at a 900-bed district hospital. Participants (n = 35) included burn patients (n = 13) and caregivers (n = 22) after discharge. In-depth interviews addressed the recovery process after a burn injury. Data were coded using NVivo 12. Analysis revealed three major thematic categories. Coded data were triangulated to analyze caregiver and patient perspectives jointly. The participants’ lived experiences fell into three main categories: (1) psychological impacts of the burn, (2) enduring the transition into daily life, and (3) reflections on difficulties survivors face in returning for aftercare. The most notable discussions regarded stigma, difficulty accepting self-image, loss of relationships, returning to work, and barriers in receiving long-term aftercare at the hospital outpatient clinic. Patients and caregivers face significant adversities integrating into society. This study highlights areas in which burn survivors may benefit from assistance to inform future interventions and international health policy.

This article examines an under-explored aspect of Christopher Hope’s early fiction: its capacity to suggest the potential for imaginative and psychological freedom through its comic, carnivalesque qualities. Hope produced various novels and stories set in South Africa during the 1950s and 1960s, including A Separate Development (1981), Black Swan (1987) and the short story collection Learning to Fly (1990). It is argued that Hope’s vision in these works tends to be perceived as essentially satirical, ultimately limited by bleakness and pessimism; while the carnivalesque, potentially liberatory aspects of his writing tend to be overlooked. By utilising comic and carnivalesque features Hope’s work indeed offers creative, liberated ways of apprehending reality. Mikhail Bakhtin’s discussion of the ability of the carnivalesque to open up new ways of seeing, through the “nonofficial” versions of reality that it proffers, is particularly relevant in this regard. It is argued that this latter aspect of Hope’s work is especially significant, bearing in mind the sense of constraint and confinement that seemed to dominate much of South African fiction during the apartheid era and that still remains a key concern in many postapartheid novels.

AbstractThe present study sought to investigate the current levels of psychological wellbeing in three immigrant groups to New Zealand. In addition, we sought to determine whether aspects of the acculturation process were related to mental health outcomes. This is a cross–sectional study from the fifth wave of annual in-depth interviews with three groups of recently arrived skilled immigrants from India, the People's Republic of China and South Africa. Interviews focused on international contacts and the migration of relatives and friends, housing, language, qualifications and employment, and social participation. Participants were also asked about health difficulties, homesickness, and whether they felt settled in New Zealand. The SF-36 Health Status Questionnaire (Ware, 1997), assessed the respondent's functional status and wellbeing in relation to four health concepts: vitality, social functioning, role limitations due to emotional health, and general mental wellbeing. The immigrant group differed significantly from the New Zealand population on only one of the four mental health scales, Vitality, with immigrants reporting higher levels. Different acculturation factors were found to predict different mental health subscales in regression analyses. Gender, home contact and health difficulty explained 22% of the unique variance in Vitality; employment status and health difficulty explained 18% of the variance in Social Functioning; health difficulty significantly contributed to the explained variance (14%) in the Role limitations due to emotional health subscale; gender, home contact and health difficulty explained 27% of the variance in the Mental Health subscale. There was little evidence for lower levels of psychological wellbeing for the three immigrant groups compared to the general New Zealand population, nor for differences between the three groups. However, results highlight the importance of differential predictors in the understanding of psychological health in migrant groups.

The article analyzes the Russian citizens’ perceptions of BRICS countries. The authors focus on the cognitive, emotional, behavioral, and symbolic aspects characterizing BRICS countries in political consciousness of the Russians as well as common stereotypes, intentions, and associations. Since the Russian Federation has political and economic interests in cooperation with the BRICS countries, it is important to study representations of Brazil, India, China and South Africa in Russian consciousness and identify the possibilities of their transformation. Proceeding from the results of qualitative politico-sociological (a series of focused interviews) and politico-psychological (projective tests) studies held in 2016-2018 the authors conclude that the emotional component prevails in the structure of Russian citizens’ perception about of Brazil, India, China and South Africa. The image of China appears to be the most complicated and multidimensional, with the key elements being the “thousand-year history”, the “great culture” and the recognition of the geopolitical power of this state. The images of India and Brazil among the Russians have a significantly more amorphous character, but at the same time hold a moderately positive emotional connotation. The image of South Africa is the most fragmented, devoid of stable emotional valence and bright associations. It is remarkable that the perception of the BRICS countries by the majority of respondents is primarily influenced by implicit factors which manifest in appeal to stereotypes and associations (India – cinema, Brazil – football, etc.). Dynamic factors, determined by political agenda, play a minor role forming the images of the BRICS countries. A noticeable feature of their representation among the Russians is the blurring of the “image of due” and “image of the future”, as well as the minimal role of the political component (with exception of China). Therefore, it is necessary to change the information policy for the countries studied. In order to enhance the understanding of significance and relevance of cooperation with the BRICS states among the Russian citizens, it seems to be necessary 1) to build a positive image of political relations with them; 2) to cement an image of a “partner” and an “ally” in mass media, both on a rational and an unconscious level of political perception.

Although various aspects of Ovid’s emotional reactions to exile have been researched, there has so far been no extended practical study that places the emotional content of his works into a new political context. In this respect Ovid’s voicing of his experiences can serve to illuminate the experiences of latter-day exiles. This article attempts to establish, by literary means, a picture of the alienation attendant upon exile and its sublimation. For this purpose the poetry of Ovid, as well as that of certain modern authors, is used as illustration. There are many parallels between the Rome of the turn of our era and the South Africa of previous decades: exile was a political weapon in both. Themes reflecting alienation in Ovid’s poems are universal, and still valid in situations of exile today. Ovid’s portrayal of his own exiled persona is used to draw a psychological profile of the experiences of alienation during such exile. This profile may be termed the “universals of alienation”, which is applied to the exile or imprisonment of the victims of contemporary political upheaval. The extent to which the verbalisation of such alienation serves to heal such a wounded soul is explored.

This work presents trends and comparisons that show a change in the consumption and production of video games in times of confinement due to the health emergency. The video game industry has modified its philosophy and adapted its products to the new requirements and trends of consumers who see in this activity a way to appease the psychological and social impact due to quarantine and isolation. There is evidence of a 65% increase in the use of online video games, which has broken a world record. Products that have new aspects and considerations never before proposed by this great industry have been developed and offered, such as thematic games related to the COVID-19 pandemic. Keywords: Video game, pandemic, online games, confinement. References [1]M. Olff, Screening for consequences of trauma–an update on the global collaboration on traumatic stress.European Journal of Psychotraumatology, 2020. [2]Z. Li, China’s Digital Content Publishing Industry: The 2019 Annual Report on Investment Insights and Market Trends. Publishing Research Quarterly, 2020. [3]R. Agis, An event-driven behavior trees extension to facilitate non-player multi-agent coordination in video games, Expert Systems with Applications, 2020. [4]O. Wulansari, Video games and their correlation to empathy: How to teach and experience empathic emotion. Advances in Intelligent Systems and Computing, 2020. [5]C. Bachen, Simulating real lives: Promoting Global Empathy and Interest in Learning Through SimulationGames. Sage Journal, 2012. [6]S. Fowler, Intercultural simulation games: A review (of the united states and beyond). Sage Journals, 2010. [7]G. Chursin, Learning game development with Unity3D engine and Arduino microcontroller. Journal ofPhysics: Conference Series, 2019. [8]K. Hewett, The Acquisition of 21st-Century Skills Through Video Games: Minecraft Design Process Modelsand Their Web of Class Roles. Sage Journal, 2020. [9]R. Bayeck, Exploring video games and learning in South Africa: An integrative review. Educational TechnologyResearch and Development, 2020. [10]K. Hewett, The 21st-Century Classroom Gamer. Games and Culture, 2021.

Section 39(2) of the Constitution of the Republic of South Africa, 1996, recognises the existence of rights not protected in the bill of rights. The South African bill of rights protects human conduct and interests extensively. Before the AMCU judgment was delivered, no clear example of a right not protected by the bill of rights had been identified in case law and legal literature. In the AMCU case the constitutional court deviated from previous judgments by holding that the interests of employees not to be dismissed unfairly is not covered by the right to fair labour practices in section 23(1) of the constitution. The court based its finding on textual and contextual interpretive considerations. Its interpretation of section 23(1) was not sound. A narrow, grammatical approach, namely that the text of section 23(1) does not refer expressly to such a right, cannot be followed when the meaning of open-ended constitutional phrases like “fair” labour practices is determined. And an extra-textual reference to the protection of the right in ordinary law is not relevant when the meaning of a constitutional provision is determined. Aspects of human dignity and physical and psychological integrity cannot be removed from the protective ambit of the bill of rights because they are protected by ordinary rules of the law of delict and criminal law. Viewed contextually with the other provisions of the bill of rights, the constitutional right to fair labour practices, like the right to access to housing, food, health and social services, children’s rights and criminal and civil procedural rights, protects other constitutional rights in a particular field, in this case in the field of labour relations. Apart from the fact that it can hardly be contested that every employee has a vital interest not to be dismissed unfairly, many other rights, for example, to human dignity, physical and psychological integrity, economic activity, association and audi alteram partem, may be limited factually by dismissals and dismissal procedures. The scheme and ethos of the South African bill of rights is that these special rights that overlap with the general rights are guaranteed separately. Within this context one of the ironies of the artificial exclusion of a right from the protective ambit of the special right is that its violation may, like in systems without these special rights, be challenged on the basis of the unjustifiable limitation of the general rights. A rule of thumb that the protective ambit of constitutional rights should be interpreted restrictively because the application of the weak rational relationship test as part of the rule of law serves the separation of power principle better than the application of the stricter reasonable test for the limitation of constitutional rights (in the separate concurring judgment of Theron J) is questionable. Whereas legality as part of the rule of law is always complied with when the weak rationality relationship exists, reasonableness in terms of section 36 does not always amount to the application of a stricter test. The existence of a very compelling purpose (to combat a pandemic that threatens life and limb) or a factually slight limitation of a right (to stop at a stop sign) could be the basis of a conclusion that the limitation is justifiable when the weak rational relationship test is complied with. The court’s consideration of proportionality under the umbrella of the application of the weak rational relationship test causes more uncertainty in the present somewhat unruly field of the application of rationality tests.

Mortality from road accidents continues to rise, amounting to 1.35 million deaths per year. It is emphasized that today injuries as a result of road accidents are the main cause of children death and young people aged 5-29 years and the three main causes of person’s death aged 5 to 44 years. Studies of road safety various aspects in different countries have shown that the world has long and steadily formed a global problem of irregular road accidents. First of all, the inverse dependence of the emergency risk on the material well-being of countries is clearly visible. The risk of death as a result of road accidents in low-income countries is three times higher than in high-income countries. The highest rates are in Africa (26.6 cases per 100,000 people) and the lowest in Europe (9.3 cases per 100,000 people). In addition, in recent years, experts are trying to link the actual accident rate in countries with the life quality of their populations. Quality of life as a concept includes not only the material level but also the satisfaction of spiritual needs, health, life expectancy, environmental conditions, moral and psychological climate, emotional comfort, etc., which ultimately determines the transport culture of the population. In this regard, it is of interest to identify links between the results of rating assessments of the people life quality in different countries and the level of these countries road safety typical. To do this, first of all it is necessary to assess the economic factors impact on the motorization level, which is insufficiently studied. The purpose is to determine the dependences of the economic factors impact, namely gross domestic product per capita and average wages, on the motorization level. The data for the study were taken from official statistical sources. The results were processed by methods of mathematical statistics and regression analysis. According to the results of the experiments, regression models were obtained for European countries; Asia and Oceania; The Middle East; Africa; North, Central America and the Caribbean; South America. The comparison of the simulated values and the initial data showed a high degree of correlation. The originality lies in the fact that the regularities of the economic factors influence on the motorization level are investigated, which makes it possible to obtain predicted values in the future. Improving the efficiency and safety of vehicles on the road network is possible based on the use of the motorization level predicted values in research. The obtained research results can be used to determine the feasibility of introducing certain measures to organize traffic.

<p><strong>List of abstracts and authors:</strong></p><p><strong>1. Antipsychotics in anxiety disorders</strong></p><p>Christer Allgulander</p><p><strong>2. Anxiety in somatic disorders</strong></p><p>Christer Allgulander</p><p><strong>3. Community rehabilitation of the schizophrenic patient</strong></p><p>Orlando Alonso Betancourt, Maricela Morales Herrera</p><p><strong>4. Dual diagnosis: A theory-driven multidisciplinary approach for integrative care</strong></p><p>David Blackbeard</p><p><strong>5. The emotional language of the gut - when 'psyche' meets 'soma'</strong></p><p>Helen Clark</p><p><strong>6. The Psychotherapy of bipolar disorder</strong></p><p>Franco Colin</p><p><strong>7. The Psychotherapy of bipolar disorder</strong></p><p>Franco Colin</p><p><strong>8. Developing and adopting mental health policies and plans in Africa: Lessons from South Africa, Uganda and Zambia</strong></p><p>Sara Cooper, Sharon Kleintjes, Cynthia Isaacs, Fred Kigozi, Sheila Ndyanabangi, Augustus Kapungwe, John Mayeya, Michelle Funk, Natalie Drew, Crick Lund</p><p><strong>9. The importance of relapse prevention in schizophrenia</strong></p><p>Robin Emsley</p><p><strong>10. Mental Health care act: Fact or fiction?</strong></p><p>Helmut Erlacher, M Nagdee</p><p><strong>11. Does a dedicated 72-hour observation facility in a district hospital reduce the need for involuntary admissions to a psychiatric hospital?</strong></p><p>Lennart Eriksson</p><p><strong>12. The incidence and risk factors for dementia in the Ibadan study of ageing</strong></p><p>Oye Gureje, Lola Kola, Adesola Ogunniyi, Taiwo Abiona</p><p><strong>13. Is depression a disease of inflammation?</strong></p><p><strong></strong>Angelos Halaris</p><p><strong>14. Paediatric bipolar disorder: More heat than light?</strong></p><p>Sue Hawkridge</p><p><strong>15. EBM: Anova Conundrum</strong></p><p>Elizabeth L (Hoepie) Howell</p><p><strong>16. Tracking the legal status of a cohort of inpatients on discharge from a 72-hour assessment unit</strong></p><p>Bernard Janse van Rensburg</p><p><strong>17. Dual diagnosis units in psychiatric facilities: Opportunities and challenges</strong></p><p>Yasmien Jeenah</p><p><strong>18. Alcohol-induced psychotic disorder: A comparative study on the clinical characteristics of patients with alcohol dependence and schizophrenia</strong></p><p>Gerhard Jordaan, D G Nel, R Hewlett, R Emsley</p><p><strong>19. Anxiety disorders: the first evidence for a role in preventive psychiatry</strong></p><p>Andre F Joubert</p><p><strong>20. The end of risk assessment and the beginning of start</strong></p><p>Sean Kaliski</p><p><strong>21. Psychiatric disorders abd psychosocial correlates of high HIV risk sexual behaviour in war-effected Eatern Uganda</strong></p><p>E Kinyada, H A Weiss, M Mungherera, P Onyango Mangen, E Ngabirano, R Kajungu, J Kagugube, W Muhwezi, J Muron, V Patel</p><p><strong>22. One year of Forensic Psychiatric assessment in the Northern Cape: A comparison with an established assessment service in the Eastern Cape</strong></p><p>N K Kirimi, C Visser</p><p><strong>23. Mental Health service user priorities for service delivery in South Africa</strong></p><p>Sharon Kleintjes, Crick Lund, Leslie Swartz, Alan Flisher and MHaPP Research Programme Consortium</p><p><strong>24. The nature and extent of over-the-counter and prescription drug abuse in cape town</strong></p><p>Liezl Kramer</p><p><strong>25. Physical health issues in long-term psychiatric inpatients: An audit of nursing statistics and clinical files at Weskoppies Hospital</strong></p><p>Christa Kruger</p><p><strong>26. Suicide risk in Schizophrenia - 20 Years later, a cohort study</strong></p><p>Gian Lippi, Ean Smit, Joyce Jordaan, Louw Roos</p><p><strong>27.Developing mental health information systems in South Africa: Lessons from pilot projects in Northern Cape and KwaZulu-Natal</strong></p><p>Crick Lund, S Skeen, N Mapena, C Isaacs, T Mirozev and the Mental Health and Poverty Research Programme Consortium Institution</p><p><strong>28. Mental health aspects of South African emigration</strong></p><p>Maria Marchetti-Mercer</p><p><strong>29. What services SADAG can offer your patients</strong></p><p>Elizabeth Matare</p><p><strong>30. Culture and language in psychiatry</strong></p><p>Dan Mkize</p><p><strong>31. Latest psychotic episode</strong></p><p>Povl Munk-Jorgensen</p><p><strong>32. The Forensic profile of female offenders</strong></p><p>Mo Nagdee, Helmut Fletcher</p><p><strong>33. The intra-personal emotional impact of practising psychiatry</strong></p><p>Margaret Nair</p><p><strong>34. Highly sensitive persons (HSPs) and implications for treatment</strong></p><p>Margaret Nair</p><p><strong>35. Task shifting in mental health - The Kenyan experience</strong></p><p>David M Ndetei</p><p><strong>36. Bridging the gap between traditional healers and mental health in todya's modern psychiatry</strong></p><p>David M Ndetei</p><p><strong>37. Integrating to achieve modern psychiatry</strong></p><p>David M Ndetei</p><p><strong>38. Non-medical prescribing: Outcomes from a pharmacist-led post-traumatic stress disorder clinic</strong></p><p>A Parkinson</p><p><strong>39. Is there a causal relationship between alcohol and HIV? Implications for policy, practice and future research</strong></p><p>Charles Parry</p><p><strong>40. Global mental health - A new global health discipline comes of age</strong></p><p>Vikram Patel</p><p><strong>41. Integrating mental health into primary health care: Lessons from pilot District demonstration sites in Uganda and South Africa</strong></p><p>Inge Petersen, Arvin Bhana, K Baillie and MhaPP Research Programme Consortium</p><p><strong>42. Personality disorders -The orphan child in axis I - Axis II Dichotomy</strong></p><p><strong></strong>Willie Pienaar</p><p><strong>43. Case Studies in Psychiatric Ethics</strong></p><p>Willie Pienaar</p><p><strong>44. Coronary artery disease and depression: Insights into pathogenesis and clinical implications</strong></p><p>Janus Pretorius</p><p><strong>45. Impact of the Mental Health Care Act No. 17 of 2002 on designated hospitals in KwaZulu-Natal: Triumphs and trials</strong></p><p>Suvira Ramlall, Jennifer Chipps</p><p><strong>46. Biological basis of addication</strong></p><p>Solomon Rataemane</p><p><strong>47. Genetics of Schizophrenia</strong></p><p>Louw Roos</p><p><strong>48. Management of delirium - Recent advances</strong></p><p>Shaquir Salduker</p><p><strong>49. Social neuroscience: Brain research on social issues</strong></p><p>Manfred Spitzer</p><p><strong>50. Experiments on the unconscious</strong></p><p>Manfred Spitzer</p><p><strong>51. The Psychology and neuroscience of music</strong></p><p>Manfred Spitzer</p><p><strong>52. Mental disorders in DSM-V</strong></p><p>Dan Stein</p><p><strong>53. Personality, trauma exposure, PTSD and depression in a cohort of SA Metro policemen: A longitudinal study</strong></p><p>Ugashvaree Subramaney</p><p><strong>54. Eating disorders: An African perspective</strong></p><p>Christopher Szabo</p><p><strong>55. An evaluation of the WHO African Regional strategy for mental health 2001-2010</strong></p><p>Thandi van Heyningen, M Majavu, C Lund</p><p><strong>56. A unitary model for the motor origin of bipolar mood disorders and schizophrenia</strong></p><p>Jacques J M van Hoof</p><p><strong>57. The origin of mentalisation and the treatment of personality disorders</strong></p><p>Jacques J M Hoof</p><p><strong>58. How to account practically for 'The Cause' in psychiatric diagnostic classification</strong></p><p>C W (Werdie) van Staden</p><p><strong>POSTER PRESENTATIONS</strong></p><p><strong>59. Problem drinking and physical and sexual abuse at WSU Faculty of Health Sciences, Mthatha, 2009</strong></p><p>Orlando Alonso Betancourt, Maricela Morales Herrera, E, N Kwizera, J L Bernal Munoz</p><p><strong>60. Prevalence of alcohol drinking problems and other substances at WSU Faculty of Health Sciences, Mthatha, 2009</strong></p><p>Orlando Alonso Betancourt, Maricela Morales Herrera, E, N Kwizera, J L Bernal Munoz</p><p><strong>61. Lessons learnt from a modified assertive community-based treatment programme in a developing country</strong></p><p>Ulla Botha, Liezl Koen, John Joska, Linda Hering, Piet Ooosthuizen</p><p><strong>62. Perceptions of psychologists regarding the use of religion and spirituality in therapy</strong></p><p>Ottilia Brown, Diane Elkonin</p><p><strong>63. Resilience in families where a member is living with schizophreni</strong></p><p>Ottilia Brown, Jason Haddad, Greg Howcroft</p><p><strong>64. Fusion and grandiosity - The mastersonian approach to the narcissistic disorder of the self</strong></p><p>William Griffiths, D Macklin, Loray Daws</p><p><strong>65. Not being allowed to exist - The mastersonian approach to the Schizoid disorder of the self</strong></p><p>William Griffiths, D Macklin, Loray Daws</p><p><strong>66. Risky drug-injecting behaviours in Cape Town and the need for a needle exchange programme</strong></p><p>Volker Hitzeroth</p><p><strong>67. Neuroleptic malignant syndrome in adolescents in the Western Cape: A case series</strong></p><p>Terri Henderson</p><p><strong>68. Experience and view of local academic psychiatrists on the role of spirituality in South African specialist psychiatry, compared with a qualitative analysis of the medical literature</strong></p><p>Bernard Janse van Rensburg</p><p><strong>69. The role of defined spirituality in local specialist psychiatric practice and training: A model and operational guidelines for South African clinical care scenarios</strong></p><p>Bernard Janse van Rensburg</p><p><strong>70. Handedness in schizophrenia and schizoaffective disorder in an Afrikaner founder population</strong></p><p>Marinda Joubert, J L Roos, J Jordaan</p><p><strong>71. A role for structural equation modelling in subtyping schizophrenia in an African population</strong></p><p>Liezl Koen, Dana Niehaus, Esme Jordaan, Robin Emsley</p><p><strong>72. Caregivers of disabled elderly persons in Nigeria</strong></p><p>Lola Kola, Oye Gureje, Adesola Ogunniyi, Dapo Olley</p><p><strong>73. HIV Seropositivity in recently admitted and long-term psychiatric inpatients: Prevalence and diagnostic profile</strong></p><p>Christina Kruger, M P Henning, L Fletcher</p><p><strong>74. Syphilis seropisitivity in recently admitted longterm psychiatry inpatients: Prevalence and diagnostic profile</strong></p><p>Christina Kruger, M P Henning, L Fletcher</p><p><strong>75. 'The Great Suppression'</strong></p><p>Sarah Lamont, Joel Shapiro, Thandi Groves, Lindsey Bowes</p><p><strong>76. Not being allowed to grow up - The Mastersonian approach to the borderline personality</strong></p><p>Daleen Macklin, W Griffiths</p><p><strong>77. Exploring the internal confirguration of the cycloid personality: A Rorschach comprehensive system study</strong></p><p>Daleen Macklin, Loray Daws, M Aronstam</p><p><strong>78. A survey to determine the level of HIV related knowledge among adult psychiatric patients admitted to Weskoppies Hospital</strong></p><p><strong></strong> T G Magagula, M M Mamabolo, C Kruger, L Fletcher</p><p><strong>79. A survey of risk behaviour for contracting HIV among adult psychiatric patients admitted to Weskoppies Hospital</strong></p><p>M M Mamabolo, T G Magagula, C Kruger, L Fletcher</p><p><strong>80. A retrospective review of state sector outpatients (Tara Hospital) prescribed Olanzapine: Adherence to metabolic and cardiovascular screening and monitoring guidelines</strong></p><p>Carina Marsay, C P Szabo</p><p><strong>81. Reported rapes at a hospital rape centre: Demographic and clinical profiles</strong></p><p>Lindi Martin, Kees Lammers, Donavan Andrews, Soraya Seedat</p><p><strong>82. Exit examination in Final-Year medical students: Measurement validity of oral examinations in psychiatry</strong></p><p>Mpogisheng Mashile, D J H Niehaus, L Koen, E Jordaan</p><p><strong>83. Trends of suicide in the Transkei region of South Africa</strong></p><p>Banwari Meel</p><p><strong>84. Functional neuro-imaging in survivors of torture</strong></p><p>Thriya Ramasar, U Subramaney, M D T H W Vangu, N S Perumal</p><p><strong>85. Newly diagnosed HIV+ in South Africa: Do men and women enroll in care?</strong></p><p>Dinesh Singh, S Hoffman, E A Kelvin, K Blanchard, N Lince, J E Mantell, G Ramjee, T M Exner</p><p><strong>86. Diagnostic utitlity of the International HIC Dementia scale for Asymptomatic HIV-Associated neurocognitive impairment and HIV-Associated neurocognitive disorder in South Africa</strong></p><p>Dinesh Singh, K Goodkin, D J Hardy, E Lopez, G Morales</p><p><strong>87. The Psychological sequelae of first trimester termination of pregnancy (TOP): The impact of resilience</strong></p><p>Ugashvaree Subramaney</p><p><strong>88. Drugs and other therapies under investigation for PTSD: An international database</strong></p><p>Sharain Suliman, Soraya Seedat</p><p><strong>89. Frequency and correlates of HIV Testing in patients with severe mental illness</strong></p><p>Hendrik Temmingh, Leanne Parasram, John Joska, Tania Timmermans, Pete Milligan, Helen van der Plas, Henk Temmingh</p><p><strong>90. A proposed mental health service and personnel organogram for the Elizabeth Donkin psychiatric Hospital</strong></p><p>Stephan van Wyk, Zukiswa Zingela</p><p><strong>91. A brief report on the current state of mental health care services in the Eastern Cape</strong></p><p>Stephan van Wyk, Zukiswa Zingela, Kiran Sukeri, Heloise Uys, Mo Nagdee, Maricela Morales, Helmut Erlacher, Orlando Alonso</p><p><strong>92. An integrated mental health care service model for the Nelson Mandela Bay Metro</strong></p><p>Stephan van Wyk, Zukiswa Zingela, Kiran Sukeri</p><p><strong>93. Traditional and alternative healers: Prevalence of use in psychiatric patients</strong></p><p>Zukiswa Zingela, S van Wyk, W Esterhuysen, E Carr, L Gaauche</p>

<p><strong>List of abstracts and authors:</strong></p><p><strong>1. Bipolar disorder not otherwise specified -overdiagnosed or underdiagnosed?</strong></p><p>E Allers</p><p><strong>2. The prognosis of major depression untreated and treated: Does the data reflect the true picture of the prognosis of this very common disorder?</strong></p><p>E Allers</p><p><strong>3. Can we prolong our patients' life expectancy? Providing a better quality of life for patients with severe mental illness</strong></p><p>O A Betencourt</p><p><strong>4. The scope of ECT practice in South Africa</strong></p><p>J Benson-Martin, P Milligan</p><p><strong>5. Biomarkers for schizophrenia: Can we evolve like cancer therapeutics?</strong></p><p>P Buckley<strong></strong></p><p><strong>6. Relapse in schizophrenis: Major challenges in prediction and prevention</strong></p><p>P Buckley</p><p><strong>7. Informed consent in biological treatments: The right to know the duty to inform</strong></p><p><strong></strong>I Chetty</p><p><strong>8. Effectiveness of a long-acting injectable antipsychotic plus an assertive monitoring programme in first-episode schizophrenia</strong></p><p><strong></strong>B Chiliza, L Asmal, O Esan, A Ojagbemi, O Gureje, R Emsley</p><p><strong>9. Name, shame, fame</strong></p><p>P Cilliers</p><p><strong>10. Can we manage the increasing incidence of violent raging children? We have to!</strong></p><p>H Clark</p><p><strong>11. Serotonin, depression and antidepressant action</strong></p><p>P Cowen</p><p><strong>12. Prevalence and correlates of comorbid psychiatris illness in patients with heroin use disorder admitted to Stikland Opioid Detoxification Unit</strong></p><p>L Dannatt, K J Cloete, M Kidd, L Weich</p><p><strong>13. Investigating the association between diabetes mellitus, depression and psychological distress in a cohort of South African teachers</strong></p><p>A K Domingo, S Seedat, T M Esterhuizen, C Laurence, J Volmink, L Asmal</p><p><strong>14. Neuropeptide S -emerging evidence for a role in anxiety</strong></p><p>K Domschke</p><p><strong>15. Pathogenetics of anxiety</strong></p><p>K Domschke</p><p><strong>16. The effects of HIV on the fronto-striatal system</strong></p><p>S du Plessis, M Vink, J Joska, E Koutsilieri, C Scheller, B Spottiswoode, D Stein, R Emsley</p><p><strong>17. Effects of acute antipsychotic treatment on brain morphology in schizophrenia</strong></p><p>R Emsley, L Asmal, B Chiliza, S du Plessis, J Carr, A Goosen, M Kidd, M Vink, R Kahn</p><p><strong>18. Development of a genetic database resource for monitoring of breast cancer patients at risk of physical and psychological complications</strong></p><p>K Grant, F J Cronje, K Botha, J P Apffelstaedt, M J Kotze</p><p><strong>19. Unipolar mania reconsidered: Evidence from a South African study</strong></p><p><strong></strong>C Grobler</p><p><strong>20. Antipsychotic-induced movement disorders: Occurence and management</strong></p><p>P Haddad</p><p><strong>21. The place of observational studies in assessing the effectiveness of long-acting injectable antipsychotics</strong></p><p>P Haddad</p><p><strong>22. Molecular mechanisms of d-cycloserine in fear extinction: Insights from RNS sequencing</strong></p><p>S Hemmings, S Malan-Muller, L Fairbairn, M Jalali, E J Oakeley, J Gamieldien, M Kidd, S Seedat</p><p><strong>23. Schizophrenia: The role of inflammation</strong></p><p>DC Henderson</p><p><strong>24. Addictions: Emergent trends and innovations</strong></p><p>V Hitzeroth</p><p><strong>25. The socio-cultural-religious context of biological psychiatric practice</strong></p><p>B Janse van Rensburg</p><p><strong>26. Biochemical markers for identifying risk factors for disability progression in multiple sclerosis</strong></p><p><strong></strong>S Janse van Rensburg, M J Kotze, F J Cronje, W Davis, K Moremi, M Jalali Sefid Dashti, J Gamieldien, D Geiger, M Rensburg, R van Toorn, M J de Klerk, G M Hon, T Matsha, S Hassan, R T Erasmus</p><p><strong>27. Alcohol-induced psychotic disorder: Brain perfusion and psychopathology - before and after antipsychotic treatment</strong></p><p>G Jordaan, J M Warwick, D G Nel, R Hewlett, R Emsley</p><p><strong>28.'Pump and dump': Harm reduction strategies for breastfeeding while using substances</strong></p><p>L Kramer</p><p><strong>29. Adolescent neuropsychiatry - an emerging field in South African adolescent psychiatric services</strong></p><p>A Lachman</p><p><strong>30. Recovery versus remission, or what it means to be healthy for a psychiatric patient?</strong></p><p>B Latecki</p><p><strong>31. Holistic methods utilised to normalise behaviours in youth diagnosed with neuro-biochemical disorders</strong></p><p>P Macqueen</p><p><strong>32. Candidate genes and novel polymorphisms for anxiety disorder in a South African cohort</strong></p><p>N McGregor, J Dimatelis, S M J Hemmings, C J Kinnear, D Stein, V Russel, C Lochner</p><p><strong>33. Higher visual functioning</strong></p><p>A Moodley</p><p><strong>34. The effects of prenatal methylmercury exposure on trace element and antioxidant levels in rat offspring following 6-hydroxydopamine-induced neuronal insult</strong></p><p>Z M Moosa, W M U Daniels, M V Mabandla</p><p><strong>35. Paediatric neuropsychiatric movement disorders</strong></p><p>L Mubaiwa</p><p><strong>36. The South African national female offenders study</strong></p><p>M Nagdee, L Artz, C de Clercq, P de Wet, H Erlacher, S Kaliski, C Kotze, L Kowalski, J Naidoo, S Naidoo, J Pretorius, M Roffey, F Sokudela, U Subramaney</p><p><strong>37. Neurobiological consequences of child abuse</strong></p><p>C Nemeroff</p><p><strong>38. What do Stellenbosch Unviversity medical students think about psychiatry - and why should we care?</strong></p><p>G Nortje, S Suliman, K Seed, G Lydall, S Seedat</p><p><strong>39. Neurological soft skins in Nigerian Africans with first episode schizophrenia: Factor structure and clinical correlates</strong></p><p><strong></strong>A Ojagbemi, O Esan, O Gureje, R Emsley</p><p><strong>40. Should psychiatric patients know their MTHFR status?</strong></p><p>E Peter</p><p><strong>41. Clinical and functional outcome of treatment refractory first-episode schizophrenia</strong></p><p>L Phahladira, R Emsley, L Asmal, B Chiliza</p><p><strong>42. Bioethics by case discussion</strong></p><p>W Pienaar</p><p><strong>43. Reviewing our social contract pertaining to psychiatric research in children, research in developing countries and distributive justice in pharmacy</strong></p><p>W Pienaar</p><p><strong>44. The performance of the MMSE in a heterogenous elderly South African population</strong></p><p>S Ramlall, J Chipps, A I Bhigjee, B J Pillay</p><p><strong>45. Biological basis addiction (alocohol and drug addiction)</strong></p><p>S Rataemane</p><p><strong>46. Volumetric brain changes in prenatal methamphetamine-exposed children compared with healthy unexposed controls</strong></p><p><strong></strong>A Roos, K Donald, G Jones, D J Stein</p><p><strong>47. Single voxel proton magnetic resonance spectroscopy of the amygdala in social anxiety disorder in the context of early developmental trauma</strong></p><p>D Rosenstein, A Hess, S Seedat, E Meintjies</p><p><strong>48. Discussion of HDAC inhibitors, with specific reference to supliride and its use during breastfeeding</strong></p><p>J Roux</p><p><strong>49. Prevalence and clinical correlates of police contact prior to a first diagnosis of schizophrenia</strong></p><p>C Schumann, L Asmal, K Cloete, B Chiliza, R Emsley</p><p><strong>50. Are dreams meaningless?</strong></p><p>M Solms</p><p><strong>51. The conscious id</strong></p><p>M Solms<strong></strong></p><p><strong>52. Depression and resilience in HIV-infected women with early life stress: Does trauma play a mediating role?</strong></p><p>G Spies, S Seedat</p><p><strong>53. State of affairs analysis for forensic psychiatry in SA</strong></p><p>U Subramaney</p><p><strong>54. Escitalopram in the prevention of post-traumatic stress disorder: A pilot randomised controlled trial</strong></p><p>S Suliman, S Seedat, J Pingo, T Sutherland, J Zohar, D J Stein</p><p><strong>55. Epigenetic consequences of adverse early social experiences in primates</strong></p><p>S Suomi</p><p><strong>56. Risk, resilience, and gene x environment interactions in primates</strong></p><p>S Suomi</p><p><strong>57. Biological aspects of anorexia nervosa</strong></p><p>C Szabo</p><p><strong>58. Agents used and profiles of non-fatal suicidal behaviour in East London</strong></p><p>H Uys</p><p><strong>59. The contributions of G-protein coupled receptor signalling to opioid dependence</strong></p><p>J van Tonder</p><p><strong>60. Emerging trend and innovation in PTSD and OCD</strong></p><p>J Zohar</p><p><strong>61. Making the SASOP treatment guidelines operational</strong></p><p>E Allers</p><p><strong>Poster Presentations</strong></p><p><strong>62. Neuropsychological deficits in social anxiety disorder in the context of early developmental trauma</strong></p><p><strong></strong>S Bakelaar, D Rosenstein, S Seedat</p><p><strong>63.Social anxiety disorder in patients with or without early childhood trauma: Relationship to behavioral inhibition and activation and quality of life</strong></p><p><strong></strong>S Bakelaar, C Bruijnen, A Sambeth, S Seedat</p><p><strong>64. Exploring altered affective processing in obssessive compulsive disorder symptom subtypes</strong></p><p>E Breet, J Ipser, D Stein, C Lochner<strong><br /></strong></p><p><strong>65. To investigate the bias toward recognising the facial expression of disgust in obsessive compulsive disorder as well as the effect of escitalopram</strong></p><p>E Breet, J Ipser, D Stein, C Lochner</p><p><strong>66. A fatal-case of nevirapine-induced Stevens-Johnson's syndrome in HIV mania</strong></p><p>A Bronkhorst, Z Zingela, W M Qwesha, B P Magigaba<strong></strong></p><p><strong>67. Association of the COMT G472A (met/met) genotype with lower disability in people diagnosed with multiple sclerosis</strong></p><p>W Davis, S J van Rensburg, L Fisher, F J Cronje, D Geiger, M J Kotze</p><p><strong>68. Homocycsteine levels are associated with the fat mass and obesity associated gene FTO(intron 1 T&gt;A) polymorphism in MS patients</strong></p><p>W Davis, S J Van Rensburg, M J Kotze, L Fisher, M Jalali, F J Cronje, K Moremi, J Gamieldien, D Geiger, M Rensburg, R van Toorn, M J de Klerk, G M Hon, T Matsha, S Hassan, R T Erasmus</p><p><strong>69. Analysis of the COMT 472 G&gt;A (rs4680) polymorphism in relation to environmental influences as contributing factors in patients with schizophrenia</strong></p><p>D de Klerk, S J van Rensburg, R A Emsley, D Geiger, M Rensburg, R T Erasmus, M J Kotze</p><p><strong>70. Dietary folate intake, homocysteine levels and MTHFR mutation detection in South African patients with depression: Test development for clinical application </strong></p><p>D Delport, N vand der Merwe, R Schoeman, M J Kotze</p><p><strong>71. The use ofexome sequencing for antipsychotic pharmacogenomic applications in South African schizophrenia patients</strong></p><p>B Drogmoller, D Niehaus, G Wright, B Chiliza, L Asmal, R Emsley, L Warnich</p><p><strong>72. The effects of HIV on the ventral-striatal reward system</strong></p><p>S du Plessis, M Vink, J Joska, E Koutsilieri, C Scheller, B Spottiswoode, D Stein, R Emsley</p><p><strong>73. Xenomelia relates to asymmetrical insular activity: A case study of fMRI</strong></p><p>S du Plessis, M Vink, L Asmal</p><p><strong>74. Maternal mental helath: A prospective naturalistic study of the outcome of pregancy in women with major psychiatric disorders in an African country</strong></p><p>E du Toit, L Koen, D Niehaus, B Vythilingum, E Jordaan, J Leppanen</p><p><strong>75. Prefrontal cortical thinning and subcortical volume decrease in HIV-positive children with encephalopathy</strong></p><p>J P Fouche, B Spottiswoode, K Donald, D Stein, J Hoare</p><p><strong>76. H-magnetic resonance spectroscopy metabolites in schizophrenia</strong></p><p>F Howells, J Hsieh, H Temmingh, D J Stein</p><p><strong>77. Hypothesis for the development of persistent methamphetamine-induced psychosis</strong></p><p><strong></strong> J Hsieh, D J Stein, F M Howells</p><p><strong>78. Culture, religion, spirituality and psychiatric practice: The SASOP Spirituality and Psychiatry Special Interest Group Action Plan for 2012-2014</strong></p><p>B Janse van Rensburg</p><p><strong>79. Cocaine reduces the efficiency of dopamine uptake in a rodent model of attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder: An <em>in vivo</em> electrochemical study</strong></p><p><strong></strong>L Kellaway, J S Womersley, D J Stein, G A Gerhardt, V A Russell</p><p><strong>80. Kleine-Levin syndrome: Case in an adolescent psychiatric unit</strong></p><p>A Lachman</p><p><strong>81. Increased inflammatory stress specific clinical, lifestyle and therapeutic variables in patients receiving treatment for stress, anxiety or depressive symptoms</strong></p><p>H Luckhoff, M Kotze, S Janse van Rensburg, D Geiger</p><p><strong>82. Catatonia: An eight-case series report</strong></p><p>M Mabenge, Z Zingela, S van Wyk</p><p><strong>83. Relationship between anxiety sensitivity and childhood trauma in a random sample of adolescents from secondary schools in Cape Town</strong></p><p>L Martin, M Viljoen, S Seedat</p><p><strong>84. 'Making ethics real'. An overview of an ethics course presented by Fraser Health Ethics Services, BC, Canada</strong></p><p>JJ McCallaghan</p><p><strong>85. Clozapine discontinuation rates in a public healthcare setting</strong></p><p>M Moolman, W Esterhuysen, R Joubert, J C Lamprecht, M S Lubbe</p><p><strong>86. Retrospective review of clozapine monitoring in a publica sector psychiatric hospital and associated clinics</strong></p><p>M Moolman, W Esterhuysen, R Joubert, J C Lamprecht, M S Lubbe</p><p><strong>87. Association of an iron-related TMPRSS6 genetic variant c.2007 C&gt;7 (rs855791) with functional iron deficiency and its effect on multiple sclerosis risk in the South African population</strong></p><p>K Moremi, S J van Rensburg, L R Fisher, W Davis, F J Cronje, M Jalali Sefid Dashti, J Gamieldien, D Geiger, M Rensburg, R van Toorn, M J de Klerk, G M Hon, T Matsha, S Hassan, R T Erasmus, M Kidd, M J Kotze</p><p><strong>88. Identifying molecular mechanisms of apormophine-induced addictive behaviours</strong></p><p>Z Ndlazi, W Daniels, M Mabandla</p><p><strong>89. Effects of lifestyle factors and biochemistry on the major neck blood vessels in patients with mutiple sclerosis</strong></p><p>M Nelson, S J van Rensburg, M J Kotze, F Isaacs, S Hassan</p><p><strong>90. Nicotine protects against dopamine neurodegenration and improves motor deficits in a Parkinsonian rat model</strong></p><p>N Ngema, P Ngema, M Mabandla, W Daniels</p><p><strong>91. Cognition: Probing anatomical substrates</strong></p><p>H Nowbath</p><p><strong>92. Chronic exposure to light reverses the effects of maternal separation on the rat prefrontal cortex</strong></p><p>V Russel, J Dimatelis</p><p><strong>93. Evaluating a new drug to combat Alzheimer's disease</strong></p><p>S Sibiya, W M U Daniels, M V Mabandla</p><p><strong>94. Structural brain changes in HIV-infected women with and without childhood trauma</strong></p><p>G Spies, F Ahmed, C Fennema-Notestine, S Archibald, S Seedat</p><p><strong>95. Nicotine-stimulated release of hippocampal norepinephrine is reduced in an animal model of attention-deficit/ hyperactivity disorder: the spontaneously hypertensive rat</strong></p><p>T Sterley</p><p><strong>96. Brain-derive neurotrophic factor (BDNF) protein levels in anxiety disorders: Systematic review and meta-regression analysis</strong></p><p>S Suliman, S M J Hemmings, S Seedat</p><p><strong>97. A 12-month retrospective audit of the demographic and clinical profile of mental healthcare users admitted to a district level hospital in the Western Cape, South Africa</strong></p><p>E Thomas, K J Cloete, M Kidd, H Lategan</p><p><strong>98. Magnesium recurarization: A comparison between reversal of neuromuscular block with sugammadex v. neostigmine/ glycopyrrolate in an <em>in vivo</em> rat model</strong></p><p><strong></strong>M van den Berg, M F M James, L A Kellaway</p><p><strong>99. Identification of breast cancer patients at increased risk of 'chemobrain': Case study and review of the literature</strong></p><p>N van der Merwe, R Pienaar, S J van Rensburg, J Bezuidenhout, M J Kotze</p><p><strong>100. The protective role of HAART and NAZA in HIV Tat protein-induced hippocampal cell death</strong></p><p>S Zulu, W M U Daniels, M V Mabandla</p>

The Routledge Handbook of language and culture represents a comprehensive study on the inextricable relationship between language and culture. It is structured into seven parts and 33 chapters. Part 1, Overview and historical background, by Farzad Sharifian, starts with an outline of the book and a synopsis of research on language and culture. The second chapter, John Leavitt’s Linguistic relativity: precursors and transformations discusses further the historical development of the concept of linguistic relativity, identifying different schools’ of thought views on the relation between language and culture. He also tries to demystify some misrepresentations held towards Boas, Sapir, and Whorf’ theories (pp. 24-26). Chapter 3, Ethnosyntax, by Anna Gladkova provides an overview of research on ethnosyntax, starting from the theoretical basis laid by Sapir and Whorf and investigates the differences between a narrow sense of ethnosyntax, which focuses on cultural meanings of various grammatical structures and a broader sense, which emphasises the pragmatic and cultural norms’ impact on the choice of grammatical structures. John Leavitt presents in the fourth chapter, titled Ethnosemantics, a historical account of research on meaning across cultures, introducing three traditions, i.e. ‘classical’ ethnosemantics (also referred to as ethnoscience or cognitive anthropology), Boasian cultural semantics (linguistically inspired anthropology) and Neohumboldtian comparative semantics (word-field theory, or content-oriented Linguistics). In Chapter 5, Goddard underlines the fact that ethnopragmatics investigates emic (or culture-internal) approaches to the use of different speech practices across various world languages, which accounts for the fact that there exists a connection between the cultural values or norms and the speech practices peculiar to a speech community. One of the key objectives of ethnopragmatics is to investigate ‘cultural key words’, i.e. words that encapsulate culturally construed concepts. The concept of ‘linguaculture’ (or languaculture) is tackled in Risager’s Chapter 6, Linguaculture: the language–culture nexus in transnational perspective. The author makes reference to American scholars that first introduced this notion, Paul Friedrich, who looks at language and culture as a single domain in which verbal aspects of culture are mingled with semantic meanings, and Michael Agar, for whom culture resides in language while language is loaded with culture. Risager himself brought forth a new global and transnational perspective on the concept of linguaculture, i.e. the use of language (linguistic practice) is seen as flows in people’s social networks and speech communities. These flows enhance as people migrate or learn new languages, in permanent dynamics. Lidia Tanaka’s Chapter 7, Language, gender, and culture deals with research on language, gender, and culture. According to her, the language-gender relationship has been studied by researchers from various fields, including psychology, linguistics, and anthropology, who mainly consider gender as a construct that preserves inequalities in society, with the help of language, too. Tanaka lists diachronically different approaches to language and gender, focusing on three specific ones: gender stereotyped linguistic resources, semantically, pragmatically or lexically designated language features (including register) and gender-based spoken discourse strategies (talking-time imbalances or interruptions). In Chapter 8, Language, culture, and context, Istvan Kecskes delves into the relationship between language, culture, and context from a socio-cognitive perspective. The author considers culture to be a set of shared knowledge structures that encapsulate the values, norms, and customs that the members of a society have in common. According to him, both language and context are rooted in culture and carriers of it, though reflecting culture in a different way. Language encodes past experience with different contexts, whereas context reflects present experience. The author also provides relevant examples of formulaic language that demonstrate the functioning of both types of context, within the larger interplay between language, culture, and context. Sara Miller’s Chapter 9, Language, culture, and politeness reviews traditional approaches to politeness research, with particular attention given to ‘discursive approach’ to politeness. Much along the lines of the previous chapter, Miller stresses the role of context in judgements of (im)polite language, maintaining that individuals represent active agents who challenge and negotiate cultural as well as linguistic norms in actual communicative contexts. Chapter 10, Language, culture, and interaction, by Peter Eglin focuses on language, culture and interaction from the perspective of the correspondence theory of meaning. According to him, abstracting language and culture from their current uses, as if they were not interdependent would not lead to an understanding of words’ true meaning. David Kronenfeld introduces in Chapter 11, Culture and kinship language, a review of research on culture and kinship language, starting with linguistic anthropology. He explains two formal analytic definitional systems of kinship terms: the semantic (distinctions between kin categories, i.e. father vs mother) and pragmatic (interrelations between referents of kin terms, i.e. ‘nephew’ = ‘child of a sibling’). Chapter 12, Cultural semiotics, by Peeter Torop deals with the field of ‘semiotics of culture’, which may refer either to methodological instrument, to a whole array of methods or to a sub-discipline of general semiotics. In this last respect, it investigates cultures as a form of human symbolic activity, as well as a system of cultural languages (i.e. sign systems). Language, as “the preserver of the culture’s collective experience and the reflector of its creativity” represents an essential component of cultural semiotics, being a major sign system. Nigel Armstrong, in Chapter 13, Culture and translation, tackles the interrelation between language, culture, and translation, with an emphasis on the complexities entailed by translation of culturally laden aspects. In his opinion, culture has a double-sided dimension: the anthropological sense (referring to practices and traditions which characterise a community) and a narrower sense, related to artistic endeavours. However, both sides of culture permeate language at all levels. Chapter 14, Language, culture, and identity, by Sandra Schecter tackles several approaches to research on language, culture, and identity: social anthropological (the limits at play in the social construction of differences between various groups of people), sociocultural (the interplay between an individual’s various identities, which can be both externally and internally construed, in sociocultural contexts), participatory-relational (the manner in which individuals create their social–linguistic identities). Patrick McConvell, in Chapter 15, Language and culture history: the contribution of linguistic prehistory reviews research in this field where historical linguistic evidence is exploited in the reconstruction and understanding of prehistoric cultures. He makes an account of research in linguistic prehistory, with a focus on proto- and early Indo-European cultures, on several North American language families, on Africa, Australian, and Austronesian Aboriginal languages. McConvell also underlines the importance of interdisciplinary research in this area, which greatly benefits from studies in other disciplines, such as archaeology, palaeobiology, or biological genetics. Part four starts with Ning Yu’s Chapter 16, Embodiment, culture, and language, which gives an account of theory and research on the interplay between language, culture, and body, as seen from the standpoint of Cultural Linguistics. Yu presents a survey of embodiment (in embodied cognition research) from a multidisciplinary perspective, starting with the rather universalistic Conceptual Metaphor Theory. On the other hand, Cultural Linguistics has concentrated on the role played by culture in shaping embodied language, as various cultures conceptualise body and bodily experience in different ways. Chapter 17, Culture and language processing, by Crystal Robinson and Jeanette Altarriba deals with research in the field of how culture influence language processing, in particular in the case of bilingualism and emotion, alongside language and memory. Clearly, the linguistic and cultural character of each individual’s background has to be considered as a variable in research on cognition and cognitive processing. Frank Polzenhagen and Xiaoyan Xia, in Chapter 18, Language, culture, and prototypicality bring forth a survey of prototypicality across different disciplines, including cognitive linguistics and cognitive psychology. According to them, linguistic prototypes play a critical part in social (re-)cognition, as they are socially diagnostic and function as linguistic identity markers. Moreover, individuals may develop ‘culturally blended concepts’ as a result of exposure to several systems of conceptual categorisation, especially in the case of L2 learning (language-contact or culture-contact situations). In Chapter 19, Colour language, thought, and culture, Don Dedrick investigates the issue of the colour words in different languages and how these influence cognition, a question that has been addressed by researchers from various disciplines, such as anthropology, linguistics, cognitive psychology, or neuroscience. He cannot but observe the constant debate in this respect, and he argues that it is indeed difficult to reach consensus, as colour language occasionally reveals effects of language on thought and, at other times, it is impervious to such effects. Chapter 20, Language, culture, and spatial cognition, by Penelope Brown concentrates on conceptualisations of space, providing a framework for thinking about and referring to objects and events, along with more abstract notions such as time, number, or kinship. She lists three frames of reference used by languages in order to refer to spatial relations, i.e. a) an ‘absolute’ coordinate system, like north, south, east, west; b) a ‘relative’ coordinate system envisaged from the body’s standpoint; and c) an intrinsic, object-centred coordinate system. Chris Sinha and Enrique Bernárdez focus on, in Chapter 21, Space, time, and space–time: metaphors, maps, and fusions, research on linguistic and cultural concepts of time and space, starting with the seminal Conceptual Metaphor Theory (CMT), which they denounce for failing to situate space–time mapping within the broader patterns of culture and world perspective. Sinha and Bernárdez further argue that although it is possible in all cultures for individuals to experience and discuss about events in terms of their duration and succession, the specific words and concepts they use to refer to temporal landmarks temporal and duration are most of the time language and culture specific. Chapter 22, Culture and language development, by Laura Sterponi and Paul Lai provides an account of research on the interplay between culture and language acquisition. They refer to two widely accepted perspectives in this respect: a developmental mechanism inherent in human beings and a set of particular social contexts in which children are ‘initiated’ into the cultural meaning systems. Both perspectives define culture as “both related to the psychological make-up of the individual and to the socio-historical contexts in which s/he is born and develops”. Anna Wierzbicka presents, in Chapter 23, Language and cultural scripts discusses representations of cultural norms which are encoded in language. She contends that the system of meaning interpretation developed by herself and her colleagues, i.e. Natural Semantic Metalanguage (NSM), may easily be used to capture and convey cultural scripts. Through NSM cross-cultural experiences can be captured in a thorough manner by using a reduced number of conceptual primes which seem to exist in all languages. Chapter 24, Culture and emotional language, by Jean-Marc Dewaele brings forth the issue of the relationship between language, culture, and emotion, which has been researched by cultural and cognitive psychologists and applied linguists alike, although with some differences in focus. He considers that within this context, it is important to see differences between emotion contexts in bilinguals, since these may lead to different perceptions of the self. He infers that generally, culture revolves around the experience and communication of emotions, conveyed through linguistic expression. The fifth part starts with Chapter 25, Language and culture in sociolinguistics, by Meredith Marra, who underlines that culture is a central concept in Interactional Sociolinguistics, where language is considered as social interaction. In linguistic interaction, culture, and especially cultural differences are deemed as a cause of potential miscommunication. Mara also remarks that the paradigm change in sociolinguistics, from Interactional Sociolinguistics to social constructionism reshaped ‘culture’ into a more dynamic as well as less rigid concept. Claudia Strauss’ Chapter 26, Language and culture in cognitive anthropology deals with the relationship between human society and human thought/thinking. The author contends that cognitive anthropologists may be subdivided into two groups, i.e. ones that are concerned with the process of thinking (cognition-in-practice scholars), and the others focusing on the product of thinking or thoughts (concerned with shared cultural understandings). She goes on to explore how different approaches to cognitive anthropology have counted on units of language, i.e. lexical items and their meanings, along with larger chunks of discourse, as information, which may represent learned cultural schemata. Part VI starts with Chapter 27, Language and culture in second language learning, by Claire Kramsch, in which she makes a survey of the definition of ‘culture’ in foreign language learning and its evolution from a component of literature and the arts to a more comprehensive purport, that of culturally appropriate use of language, along with an appropriate use of sociopragmatic and pragmalinguistic norms. According to her, in the postmodern era, communication is not only mere transmission of information, it represents construal and positioning of the self and of self-identity. Chapter 28, Writing across cultures: ‘culture’ in second language writing studies, by Dwight Atkinson focuses on the usefulness of culture in second-language writing (SLW). He reviews several approaches to the issue: contrastive rhetoric (dealing with the impact of first-language patterns of text organisation on writers in a second language), or even alternate notions, like‘ cosmopolitanism’, ‘critical multiculturalism’, and hybridity, as of late native culture is becoming irrelevant or at best far less significant. Ian Malcolm tackles, in Chapter 29, Language and culture in second dialect learning, the issue of ‘standard’ Englishes (e.g., Standard American English, Standard Australian English) versus minority ‘non-standard’ speakers of English. He deplores the fact that in US specialist literature, speaking the ‘non-standard’ variety of English was associated with cognitive, cultural, and linguistic insufficiency. He further refers to other specialists who have demonstrated that ‘non-standard’ varieties can be just as systematic and highly structured as the standard variety. Chapter 30, Language and culture in intercultural communication, by Hans-Georg Wolf gives an account of research in intercultural education, focusing on several paradigms, i.e. the dominant one, investigating successful functioning in intercultural encounters, the minor one, exploring intercultural understanding and the ‘deconstructionist, and or postmodernist’. He further examines different interpretations of the concepts associated with intercultural communication, including the functionalist school, the intercultural understanding approach and a third one, the most removed from culture, focusing on socio-political inequalities, fluidity, situationality, and negotiability. Andy Kirkpatrick’s Chapter 31, World Englishes and local cultures gives a synopsis of research paradigm from applied linguistics which investigates the development of Englishes around the world, through processes like indigenisation or nativisation of the language. Kirkpatrick discusses the ways in which new Englishes accommodate the culture of the very speech community which develops them, e.g. adopting lexical items to express to express culture-specific concepts. Speakers of new varieties could use pragmatic norms rooted in cultural values and norms of the specific new speech community which have not previously been associated with English. Moreover, they can use these new Englishes to write local literatures, often exploiting culturally preferred rhetorical norms. Part seven starts with Chapter 32, Cultural Linguistics, by Farzad Sharifian gives an account of the recent multidisciplinary research field of Cultural Linguistics, which explores the relationship between language and cultural cognition, particularly in the case of cultural conceptualisations. Sharifian also brings forth illustrations of how cultural conceptualisations may be linguistically encoded. The last chapter, A future agenda for research on language and culture, by Roslyn Frank provides an appraisal of Cultural Linguistics as a prospective path for research in the field of language and culture. She states that ‘Cultural Linguistics could potentially create a paradigm that “successfully melds together complementary approaches, e.g., viewing language as ‘a complex adaptive system’ and bringing to bear upon it concepts drawn from cognitive science such as ‘distributed cognition’ and ‘multi-agent dynamic systems theory’.” She further asserts that Cultural Linguistics has the potential to function as “a bridge that brings together researchers from a variety of fields, allowing them to focus on problems of mutual concern from a new perspective” and most likely unveil new issues (as well as solutions) which have not been evident so far. In conclusion, the Handbook will most certainly serve as clear and coherent guidelines for scholarly thinking and further research on language and culture, and also open up new investigative vistas in each of the areas tackled.

“Human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them [...] life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves.” (Garcia Marquez 165) Introduction The refugee experience is, at heart, one of rebirth. Just as becoming a new, distinctive being—biological birth—necessarily involves the physical separation of mother and infant, so becoming a refugee entails separation from a "mother country." This mother country may or may not be a recognised nation state; the point is that the refugee transitions from physical connectedness to separation, from insider to outsider, from endemic to alien. Like babies, refugees may have little control over the timing and conditions of their expulsion. Successful resettlement requires not one rebirth but multiple rebirths—resettlement is a lifelong process (Layton)—which in turn require hope, imagination, and energy. In rebirthing themselves over and over again, people who have fled or been forced from their homelands become both mother and child. They do not go through this rebirthing alone. A range of agencies and individuals may be there to assist, including immigration officials, settlement services, schools and teachers, employment agencies and employers, English as a Second Language (ESL) resources and instructors, health-care providers, counsellors, diasporic networks, neighbours, church groups, and other community organisations. The nature, intensity, and duration of these “midwives’” interventions—and when they occur and in what combinations—vary hugely from place to place and from person to person, but there is clear evidence that post-migration experiences have a significant impact on settlement outcomes (Fozdar and Hartley). This paper draws on qualitative research I did in 2012 in a regional town in New South Wales to illuminate some of the ways in which settlement aides ease, or impede, refugees’ rebirth as fully recognised and participating Australians. I begin by considering what it means to be resilient before tracing some of the dimensions of the resettlement process. In doing so, I draw on data from interviews and focus groups with former refugees, service providers, and other residents of the town I shall call Easthaven. First, though, a word about Easthaven. As is the case in many rural and regional parts of Australia, Easthaven’s population is strongly dominated by Anglo Celtic and Saxon ancestries: 2011 Census data show that more than 80 per cent of residents were born in Australia (compared with a national figure of 69.8 per cent) and about 90 per cent speak only English at home (76.8 per cent). Almost twice as many people identify as Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander as the national figure of 2.5 per cent (Australian Bureau of Statistics). For several years Easthaven has been an official “Refugee Welcome Zone”, welcoming hundreds of refugees from diverse countries in Africa and the Middle East as well as from Myanmar. This reflects the Department of Immigration and Citizenship’s drive to settle a fifth of Australia’s 13,750 humanitarian entrants a year directly in regional areas. In Easthaven’s schools—which is where I focused my research—almost all of the ESL students are from refugee backgrounds. Defining Resilience Much of the research on human resilience is grounded in psychology, with a capacity to “bounce back” from adverse experiences cited in many definitions of resilience (e.g. American Psychological Association). Bouncing back implies a relatively quick process, and a return to a state or form similar to that which existed before the encounter with adversity. Yet resilience often requires sustained effort and significant changes in identity. As Jerome Rugaruza, a former UNHCR refugee, says of his journey from the Democratic Republic of Congo to Australia: All the steps begin in the burning village: you run with nothing to eat, no clothes. You just go. Then you get to the refugee camp […] You have a little bread and you thank god you are safe. Then after a few years in the camp, you think about a future for your children. You arrive in Australia and then you learn a new language, you learn to drive. There are so many steps and not everyone can do it. (Milsom) Not everyone can do it, but a large majority do. Research by Graeme Hugo, for example, shows that although humanitarian settlers in Australia face substantial barriers to employment and initially have much higher unemployment rates than other immigrants, for most nationality groups this difference has disappeared by the second generation: “This is consistent with the sacrifice (or investment) of the first generation and the efforts extended to attain higher levels of education and English proficiency, thereby reducing the barriers over time.” (Hugo 35). Ingrid Poulson writes that “resilience is not just about bouncing. Bouncing […] is only a reaction. Resilience is about rising—you rise above it, you rise to the occasion, you rise to the challenge. Rising is an active choice” (47; my emphasis) I see resilience as involving mental and physical grit, coupled with creativity, aspiration and, crucially, agency. Dimensions of Resettlement To return to the story of 41-year-old Jerome Rugaruza, as related in a recent newspaper article: He [Mr Rugaruza] describes the experience of being a newly arrived refugee as being like that of a newborn baby. “You need special care; you have to learn to speak [English], eat the different food, create relationships, connections”. (Milsom) This is a key dimension of resettlement: the adult becomes like an infant again, shifting from someone who knows how things work and how to get by to someone who is likely to be, for a while, dependent on others for even the most basic things—communication, food, shelter, clothing, and social contact. The “special care” that most refugee arrivals need initially (and sometimes for a long time) often results in their being seen as deficient—in knowledge, skills, dispositions, and capacities as well as material goods (Keddie; Uptin, Wright and Harwood). As Fozdar and Hartley note: “The tendency to use a deficit model in refugee resettlement devalues people and reinforces the view of the mainstream population that refugees are a liability” (27). Yet unlike newborns, humanitarian settlers come to their new countries with rich social networks and extensive histories of experience and learning—resources that are in fact vital to their rebirth. Sisay (all names are pseudonyms), a year 11 student of Ethiopian heritage who was born in Kenya, told me with feeling: I had a life back in Africa [her emphasis]. It was good. Well, I would go back there if there’s no problems, which—is a fact. And I came here for a better life—yeah, I have a better life, there’s good health care, free school, and good environment and all that. But what’s that without friends? A fellow student, Celine, who came to Australia five years ago from Burundi via Uganda, told me in a focus group: Some teachers are really good but I think some other teachers could be a little bit more encouraging and understanding of what we’ve gone through, because [they] just look at you like “You’re year 11 now, you should know this” […] It’s really discouraging when [the teachers say] in front of the class, “Oh, you shouldn’t do this subject because you haven’t done this this this this” […] It’s like they’re on purpose to tell you “you don’t have what it takes; just give up and do something else.” As Uptin, Wright and Harwood note, “schools not only have the power to position who is included in schooling (in culture and pedagogy) but also have the power to determine whether there is room and appreciation for diversity” (126). Both Sisay and Celine were disheartened by the fact they felt some of their teachers, and many of their peers, had little interest in or understanding of their lives before they came to Australia. The teachers’ low expectations of refugee-background students (Keddie, Uptin, Wright and Harwood) contrasted with the students’ and their families’ high expectations of themselves (Brown, Miller and Mitchell; Harris and Marlowe). When I asked Sisay about her post-school ambitions, she said: “I have a good idea of my future […] write a documentary. And I’m working on it.” Celine’s response was: “I know I’m gonna do medicine, be a doctor.” A third girl, Lily, who came to Australia from Myanmar three years ago, told me she wanted to be an accountant and had studied accounting at the local TAFE last year. Joseph, a father of three who resettled from South Sudan seven years ago, stressed how important getting a job was to successful settlement: [But] you have to get a certificate first to get a job. Even the job of cleaning—when I came here I was told that somebody has to go to have training in cleaning, to use the different chemicals to clean the ground and all that. But that is just sweeping and cleaning with water—you don’t need the [higher-level] skills. Simple jobs like this, we are not able to get them. In regional Australia, employment opportunities tend to be limited (Fozdar and Hartley); the unemployment rate in Easthaven is twice the national average. Opportunities to study are also more limited than in urban centres, and would-be students are not always eligible for financial assistance to gain or upgrade qualifications. Even when people do have appropriate qualifications, work experience, and language proficiency, the colour of their skin may still mean they miss out on a job. Tilbury and Colic-Peisker have documented the various ways in which employers deflect responsibility for racial discrimination, including the “common” strategy (658) of arguing that while the employer or organisation is not prejudiced, they have to discriminate because of their clients’ needs or expectations. I heard this strategy deployed in an interview with a local businesswoman, Catriona: We were advertising for a new technician. And one of the African refugees came to us and he’d had a lot of IT experience. And this is awful, but we felt we couldn't give him the job, because we send our technicians into people's houses, and we knew that if a black African guy rocked up at someone’s house to try and fix their computer, they would not always be welcomed in all—look, it would not be something that [Easthaven] was ready for yet. Colic-Peisker and Tilbury (Refugees and Employment) note that while Australia has strict anti-discrimination legislation, this legislation may be of little use to the people who, because of the way they look and sound (skin colour, dress, accent), are most likely to face prejudice and discrimination. The researchers found that perceived discrimination in the labour market affected humanitarian settlers’ sense of satisfaction with their new lives far more than, for example, racist remarks, which were generally shrugged off; the students I interviewed spoke of racism as “expected,” but “quite rare.” Most of the people Colic-Peisker and Tilbury surveyed reported finding Australians “friendly and accepting” (33). Even if there is no active discrimination on the basis of skin colour in employment, education, or housing, or overt racism in social situations, visible difference can still affect a person’s sense of belonging, as Joseph recounts: I think of myself as Australian, but my colour doesn’t [laughs] […] Unfortunately many, many Australians are expecting that Australia is a country of Europeans … There is no need for somebody to ask “Where do you come from?” and “Do you find Australia here safe?” and “Do you enjoy it?” Those kind of questions doesn’t encourage that we are together. This highlights another dimension of resettlement: the journey from feeling “at home” to feeling “foreign” to, eventually, feeling at home again in the host country (Colic-Peisker and Tilbury, Refugees and Employment). In the case of visibly different settlers, however, this last stage may never be completed. Whether the questions asked of Joseph are well intentioned or not, their effect may be the same: they position him as a “forever foreigner” (Park). A further dimension of resettlement—one already touched on—is the degree to which humanitarian settlers actively manage their “rebirth,” and are allowed and encouraged to do so. A key factor will be their mastery of English, and Easthaven’s ESL teachers are thus pivotal in the resettlement process. There is little doubt that many of these teachers have gone to great lengths to help this cohort of students, not only in terms of language acquisition but also social inclusion. However, in some cases what is initially supportive can, with time, begin to undermine refugees’ maturity into independent citizens. Sharon, an ESL teacher at one of the schools, told me how she and her colleagues would give their refugee-background students lifts to social events: But then maybe three years down the track they have a car and their dad can drive, but they still won’t take them […] We arrive to pick them up and they’re not ready, or there’s five fantastic cars in the driveway, and you pick up the student and they say “My dad’s car’s much bigger and better than yours” [laughs]. So there’s an expectation that we’ll do stuff for them, but we’ve created that [my emphasis]. Other support services may have more complex interests in keeping refugee settlers dependent. The more clients an agency has, the more services it provides, and the longer clients stay on its books, the more lucrative the contract for the agency. Thus financial and employment imperatives promote competition rather than collaboration between service providers (Fozdar and Hartley; Sidhu and Taylor) and may encourage assumptions about what sorts of services different individuals and groups want and need. Colic-Peisker and Tilbury (“‘Active’ and ‘Passive’ Resettlement”) have developed a typology of resettlement styles—“achievers,” “consumers,” “endurers,” and “victims”—but stress that a person’s style, while influenced by personality and pre-migration factors, is also shaped by the institutions and individuals they come into contact with: “The structure of settlement and welfare services may produce a victim mentality, leaving members of refugee communities inert and unable to see themselves as agents of change” (76). The prevailing narrative of “the traumatised refugee” is a key aspect of this dynamic (Colic-Peisker and Tilbury, “‘Active’ and ‘Passive’ Resettlement”; Fozdar and Hartley; Keddie). Service providers may make assumptions about what humanitarian settlers have gone through before arriving in Australia, how they have been affected by their experiences, and what must be done to “fix” them. Norah, a long-time caseworker, told me: I think you get some [providers] who go, “How could you have gone through something like that and not suffered? There must be—you must have to talk about this stuff” […] Where some [refugees] just come with the [attitude] “We’re all born into a situation; that was my situation, but I’m here now and now my focus is this.” She cited failure to consider cultural sensitivities around mental illness and to recognise that stress and anxiety during early resettlement are normal (Tilbury) as other problems in the sector: [Newly arrived refugees] go through the “happy to be here” [phase] and now “hang on, I’ve thumped to the bottom and I’m missing my own foods and smells and cultures and experiences”. I think sometimes we’re just too quick to try and slot people into a box. One factor that appears to be vital in fostering and sustaining resilience is social connection. Norah said her clients were “very good on the mobile phone” and had links “everywhere,” including to family and friends in their countries of birth, transition countries, and other parts of Australia. A 2011 report for DIAC, Settlement Outcomes of New Arrivals, found that humanitarian entrants to Australia were significantly more likely to be members of cultural and/or religious groups than other categories of immigrants (Australian Survey Research). I found many examples of efforts to build both bonding and bridging capital (Putnam) in Easthaven, and I offer two examples below. Several people told me about a dinner-dance that had been held a few weeks before one of my visits. The event was organised by an African women’s group, which had been formed—with funding assistance—several years before. The dinner-dance was advertised in the local newspaper and attracted strong interest from a broad cross-section of Easthaveners. To Debbie, a counsellor, the response signified a “real turnaround” in community relations and was a big boon to the women’s sense of belonging. Erica, a teacher, told me about a cultural exchange day she had organised between her bush school—where almost all of the children are Anglo Australian—and ESL students from one of the town schools: At the start of the day, my kids were looking at [the refugee-background students] and they were scared, they were saying to me, "I feel scared." And we shoved them all into this tiny little room […] and they had no choice but to sit practically on top of each other. And by the end of the day, they were hugging each other and braiding their hair and jumping and playing together. Like Uptin, Wright and Harwood, I found that the refugee-background students placed great importance on the social aspects of school. Sisay, the girl I introduced earlier in this paper, said: “It’s just all about friendship and someone to be there for you […] We try to be friends with them [the non-refugee students] sometimes but sometimes it just seems they don’t want it.” Conclusion A 2012 report on refugee settlement services in NSW concludes that the state “is not meeting its responsibility to humanitarian entrants as well as it could” (Audit Office of New South Wales 2); moreover, humanitarian settlers in NSW are doing less well on indicators such as housing and health than humanitarian settlers in other states (3). Evaluating the effectiveness of formal refugee-centred programs was not part of my research and is beyond the scope of this paper. Rather, I have sought to reveal some of the ways in which the attitudes, assumptions, and everyday practices of service providers and members of the broader community impact on refugees' settlement experience. What I heard repeatedly in the interviews I conducted was that it was emotional and practical support (Matthews; Tilbury), and being asked as well as told (about their hopes, needs, desires), that helped Easthaven’s refugee settlers bear themselves into fulfilling new lives. References Audit Office of New South Wales. Settling Humanitarian Entrants in New South Wales—Executive Summary. May 2012. 15 Aug. 2013 ‹http://www.audit.nsw.gov.au/ArticleDocuments/245/02_Humanitarian_Entrants_2012_Executive_Summary.pdf.aspx?Embed=Y>. Australian Bureau of Statistics. 2011 Census QuickStats. Mar. 2013. 11 Aug. 2013 ‹http://www.censusdata.abs.gov.au/census_services/getproduct/census/2011/quickstat/0>. Australian Survey Research. Settlement Outcomes of New Arrivals—Report of Findings. Apr. 2011. 15 Aug. 2013 ‹http://www.immi.gov.au/media/publications/research/_pdf/settlement-outcomes-new-arrivals.pdf>. Brown, Jill, Jenny Miller, and Jane Mitchell. “Interrupted Schooling and the Acquisition of Literacy: Experiences of Sudanese Refugees in Victorian Secondary Schools.” Australian Journal of Language and Literacy 29.2 (2006): 150-62. Colic-Peisker, Val, and Farida Tilbury. “‘Active’ and ‘Passive’ Resettlement: The Influence of Supporting Services and Refugees’ Own Resources on Resettlement Style.” International Migration 41.5 (2004): 61-91. ———. Refugees and Employment: The Effect of Visible Difference on Discrimination—Final Report. Perth: Centre for Social and Community Research, Murdoch University, 2007. Fozdar, Farida, and Lisa Hartley. “Refugee Resettlement in Australia: What We Know and Need To Know.” Refugee Survey Quarterly 4 Jun. 2013. 12 Aug. 2013 ‹http://rsq.oxfordjournals.org/search?fulltext=fozdar&submit=yes&x=0&y=0>. Garcia Marquez, Gabriel. Love in the Time of Cholera. London: Penguin Books, 1989. Harris, Vandra, and Jay Marlowe. “Hard Yards and High Hopes: The Educational Challenges of African Refugee University Students in Australia.” International Journal of Teaching and Learning in Higher Education 23.2 (2011): 186-96. Hugo, Graeme. A Significant Contribution: The Economic, Social and Civic Contributions of First and Second Generation Humanitarian Entrants—Summary of Findings. Canberra: Department of Immigration and Citizenship, 2011. Keddie, Amanda. “Pursuing Justice for Refugee Students: Addressing Issues of Cultural (Mis)recognition.” International Journal of Inclusive Education 16.12 (2012): 1295-1310. Layton, Robyn. "Building Capacity to Ensure the Inclusion of Vulnerable Groups." Creating Our Future conference, Adelaide, 28 Jul. 2012. Milsom, Rosemarie. “From Hard Luck Life to the Lucky Country.” Sydney Morning Herald 20 Jun. 2013. 12 Aug. 2013 ‹http://www.smh.com.au/national/from-hard-luck-life-to-the-lucky-country-20130619-2oixl.html>. Park, Gilbert C. “’Are We Real Americans?’: Cultural Production of Forever Foreigners at a Diversity Event.” Education and Urban Society 43.4 (2011): 451-67. Poulson, Ingrid. Rise. Sydney: Pan Macmillan Australia, 2008. Putnam, Robert D. Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community. New York: Simon & Schuster, 2000. Sidhu, Ravinder K., and Sandra Taylor. “The Trials and Tribulations of Partnerships in Refugee Settlement Services in Australia.” Journal of Education Policy 24.6 (2009): 655-72. Tilbury, Farida. “‘I Feel I Am a Bird without Wings’: Discourses of Sadness and Loss among East Africans in Western Australia.” Identities: Global Studies in Culture and Power 14.4 (2007): 433-58. ———, and Val Colic-Peisker. “Deflecting Responsibility in Employer Talk about Race Discrimination.” Discourse & Society 17.5 (2006): 651-76. Uptin, Jonnell, Jan Wright, and Valerie Harwood. “It Felt Like I Was a Black Dot on White Paper: Examining Young Former Refugees’ Experience of Entering Australian High Schools.” The Australian Educational Researcher 40.1 (2013): 125-37.

Research in the area of psychological trauma raises a number of complex ethical issues. These include questions about unjustified medicalization of suffering, retraumatization of survivors, the morality of also investigating perpetrators of trauma, and neglecting to provide appropriate intervention. We discuss some of these issues against the backdrop of a study of trauma in South Africa, and the recent work of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in that country.

Background: Haemolysis, elevated liver enzymes and low platelet count (HELLP syndrome) is a high-risk pregnancy condition that could be fatal to mother and/or baby. It is characterised, as the acronym indicates, by haemolysis, elevated liver enzymes and low blood platelets. Objective: This study explored women in Cape Town’s psychological experience of HELLP syndrome.Method: Six participants who previously experienced HELLP syndrome were interviewed. Using a grounded theory approach, themes emerged and a model illlustrating the psychological experience of HELLP syndrome was constructed.Results: The major themes that emerged were the perceived lack of information, a need to assign blame and a shift in focus. Themes of not knowing and trance and/or surreal experience underpin the cognitive aspects of the HELLP syndrome experience. Themes that expressed feelings of an inability to control, whirlwind and/or rapid pace and support acted together to bind the experience. Finally, emotions such as anger, ambivalence, disbelief, anxiety, guilt, loneliness and fear were present throughout the experience.Conclusion: This study developed an initial exploratory model representing the psychological experience of HELLP syndrome in a sample of South African women. Underlying this entire experience was a perceived lack of information which had a profound effect on numerous aspects of the experience ranging from where to locate blame to the varied emotions experienced. Agtergrond: Die HELLP sindroom is ‘n hoë-risiko swangerskap toestand wat kan dodelik vir moeder en/of baba wees. Dit word gekenmerk deur hemolise, verhoogde lewerensieme en lae bloedplaatjies.Doelwit: Hierdie studie het Suid-Afrikaanse vroue se sielkundige ervaring van die HELLP sindroom ondersoek.Metode: Ses deelnemers wat voorheen HELLP sindroom ervaar het is ondervra. Met die gebuik van gefundeerde teorie as ‘n teoretiese raamwerk en ontleding het temas na vore gekom en ‘n model wat die sielkundige ervaring van HELLP sindroom illustreer, is gebou.Resultate: Die vernaamste temas wat na vore gekom het was die oënskynlike gebrek aan inligting, ‘n behoefte om skuld toe te skryf en ‘n verskuiwing in fokus. Die tema van nie weet en beswyming en/of surrealistiese ervaring ondersteun die kognitiewe aspekte van die HELLP sindroom. Temas wat gevoelens van geen beheer, warrelwind en/of vinnige tempo en ondersteuning uitgesprek het, het saam opgetree om die ervaring te bind. Ten slotte, emosies soos woede, teenstrydigheid, ongeloof, angs, skuldgevoelens, eensaamheid en vrees was teenwoordig in die hele ervaring.Gevolgtrekking: Hierdie studie het van’n aanvanklike ondersoekende model van die sielkundige ervaring van HELLP sindroom tot ‘n steekproef van die Suid-Afrikaanse vroue ontwikkel. Onderliggend aan hierdie hele ervaring was ‘n oënskynlike gebrek aan inligting wat ‘n diepgaande uitwerking gehad het op talle aspekte van die ervaring wat gewissel het van waar om die blaam te plaas tot die uiteenlopende ervaarde emosies.

Studies in well-defined populations contribute to the body ofevidence that the psychosocial aspects of people’s environment can have a substantial effect on their physical health. Senior students in health professional education programs were interviewed using structured instruments to assess the prevalence of psychological distress and tension-type headaches in a young adult university population. Almost 70%of the study sample was either at risk of becoming distressed, or already distressed with somatic or depressive symptoms. About two-thirds of thestudents reported symptoms of either tension-type headache or other typesof headache, while over 30% of all the students complained of tension-type headache. Almost 20% of the students whoreported symptoms of tension-type headache were also distressed, while another 47% were at risk of being distressed.The possible impact on the academic performance of the students and their future role as health care professionalsis discussed.

Skin-lightening is an aesthetic practice of global concern. By adopting a biopsycho-social approach, we consider the interplay between the biological, psychological and social factors that underpin the circulation and consumption of skin lighteners in South Africa. This paper reflects on biological aspects of skin lightening, interpersonal relationships, individual beliefs and expectations about the maintenance of health and well being that informs cosmetic practices. The paper seeks to examine claims made by historians (Thomas) and political philosophers and activists (Biko) that colonialism and apartheid in South Africa historically reinforced the use of skin lightening products in the country. The paper also investigates the role of media in staking out the boundaries of beauty. We argue that men and women practice skinlightening not only as a complex result of the internalization of global standards of beauty, but meshed with a national politics of race and colorism. Banning skin lightening products without understanding the biological effects but also the social forces that underlie their increased popularity will prove futile. Moreover, we must consider the immeasurable pleasures associated with lightening, and the feelings with achieving visibility in South Africa, a country that continues to wrestle with blackness.

This study investigates the economic value of irrigation water using data collected from 200 smallholder producers in Makhathini and Ndumo areas, KwaZulu-Natal.The study accounts for psychological capital (individual mind-set and attitude affecting motivation to take initiatives) as an important aspect of farm management. This concept focuses more on the ‘soft’ aspects of farm management, which have not been adequately studied in the context of smallholder farming. A sustainable livelihoods framework is employed as a conceptual framework and the role of psychological capital is integrated to explain the variation in water values. The study employs the residual valuation method to estimate water values, principal component analysis to generate an index for psychological capital, and the general linear model to explain variation in water values. The findings suggest that variation in water values was mainly influenced by the location of the farmer, farmer type, physical capital, social capital, land size, farming experience, crop type and psychological capital. The results reinforce the importance of institutional arrangements and collective bargaining as an important element of managing a smallholder farm to increase the economic value of water. To build and develop positive psychological capital for smallholders, it is recommended that government should re-visit the usual model of ‘hand-outs’ (input, finance). It is time to re-consider direct farmer support that entails being heavily involved in their day-to-day activities (i.e., purchasing inputs and running the irrigation schemes on their behalf). Going forward, the focus should rather be on enabling them to change their behaviour to be self-reliant and own their own destiny through on-farm and off-farm economic activities. Moreover, government and other development partners have to understand the long-term behavioural impact (on farmers) of what they do, for instance, entrenching expectations.

Orientation: Given the absence of organised and accessible information on programmes relating to unemployment in South Africa, it may be difficult for beneficiaries to derive value from existing programmes; and for stakeholders to identify possible gaps in order to direct their initiatives accordingly.Research purpose: The purpose of this study was to conduct a review of existing employment initiatives within two low-income communities in South Africa, with the aim of identifying possible gaps in better addressing the needs of the unemployed.Motivation for the study: Unemployment in South Africa does not appear to be the result of a lack of initiatives or a lack of stakeholder involvement, but rather the result of haphazard implementation of interventions. In order to intervene more effectively, addressing the identified gaps, organising and better distribution of information for beneficiaries is suggested.Research approach, design and method: The data were collected via documentary research complemented with structured interviews. Relevant documents (N = 166) and participants (N = 610) were consulted during the data collection phase, using convenience and purposive sampling.Main findings: A total of 496 unemployment programmes were identified. Most of the interventions were implemented by the government. Vocational training followed by enterprise development and business skills training were the most implemented programmes. Less than 6% of programmes contained psychosocial aspects that are necessary to help the unemployed deal with the psychological consequences of unemployment. Finally, in general, benefactors involved in alleviating unemployment seem unaware of employment initiatives in their communities.Practical and managerial implications: The compilation of an inventory of employment programmes may be valuable, as it will assist in identifying the most prominent needs of the South African labour market.Contribution or value-add: This study contributes to scientific knowledge regarding the availability of existing unemployment programmes, projects and interventions, and the need for specific interventions.

Traditionally, the exploration of the impact of trauma on trauma survivors in South Africa has been focused mainly on the bio-psychosocial aspects. The bio-psychosocial approach recognises that trauma affects people biologically, socially and psychologically. In this article, the author explores a holistic understanding of the effects of trauma on people from communities historically affected by political violence in KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa. Using a participatory action research design (PAR) as a way of working through trauma, a longitudinal study was conducted in Pietermaritzburg from 2009–2013. At the end of the study, life narratives were documented and published. The textual analysis of these life narratives reveals that, besides the bio-psychosocial effects that research participants experienced during and after the trauma, they also sustained moral and spiritual injuries. Trauma took its toll in their lives emotionally, psychologically, spiritually, morally and in their relationships with themselves, others and God. From these findings, the author argues that the bio-psychosocial approach is incomplete for understanding the holistic effects of trauma on the whole person. Therefore, he recommends the integration of the moral and spiritual aspects of trauma to come up with a holistic model of understanding the effects of trauma on traumatised individuals. The holistic model will enhance the treatment, healing and recovery of trauma survivors. This, in turn, will alleviate the severe disruption of many aspects of psychological functioning and well-being of trauma survivors caused by the effects of trauma.

Abstract Background Increased investment in optimal student mental health and well-being has been noted by universities around the world. Studies show the need for contextually relevant, granular understandings of specific aspects of student mental health and well-being. Methods A survey was conducted at two time points – at the beginning and end of the academic year – at a large, urban university in South Africa. The Mental Health Continuum-Short Form, the Flourishing Scale, and the Fragility of Happiness Scale were used in the testing of undergraduate students from a variety of scientific disciplines. Two separate comparisons were made, based on the baseline data (n = 551) and the follow-up data (n = 281). In Comparison 1 (baseline, n = 443; follow-up, n = 173), two independent, biographically (very) similar groups were compared. Comparison 2 (n = 108) compared the results from the baseline and follow-up of the same group of students who completed the instruments at both time points. Results Results indicate a significant decline in mental health and well-being for both groups (independent and dependent) over the course of the academic year. Both follow-up groups were found to have lower psychological, emotional and social well-being, psychological flourishing, and reduced mental health, in comparison with the baseline groups. Conclusions The statistically significant decreases in the mental health and well-being of participants in this study indicate the need for substantive interventions to support student mental health and well-being. Strong foci for well-being interventions should include self-efficacy, sense of direction, meaning and creating a sense of belonging.

Music therapy is a valuable tool for working with vulnerable children who have experienced trauma and neglect, working intimately to draw out their playfulness and resilience, and create an experience of a safe and trusting relationship. In South Africa, with its overburdened social welfare systems and under-resourced communities who remain affected by poverty and unemployment, there is limited access to medical and psychological services. The South African foster care system aims to provide safety and security for vulnerable and at-risk children and youth, but it is often overwhelmed with the extent of the needs. This anecdotal story features professional and personal reflections and vignettes on the music therapy journey with a very withdrawn and isolated young boy at a place of safety in Cape Town. I, as music therapist, and his favourite red drum, accompanied Charlie through four months of weekly individual sessions, unlocking his Music Child (Nordoff-Robbins 1977). Sessions shifted from isolated to interactive; from silent to communicative; from tentative to confident. Our music therapy journey continued, moving beyond the safe music therapy room to the unknown space of a new foster family through a home visit - an unusual occurrence in the context of community work in South Africa due to the limited psychological services available and the vast number of children in the social services systems. Collaborating with the social workers and the foster mother, I was able to visit Charlie at his new foster family’s house. The known and safe music therapy space expanded to include his foster mother and new foster siblings with whom he could share his newfound independence and confidence. The article describes music therapy’s role in ‘introducing’ Charlie to his new foster family and how it created musical connections, shared enjoyment and a sense of togetherness between them. I, as his music therapist, followed where he, the music and the context led, as reflected in the notion of community music therapy described by Ansdell (2002b). Although the focus is on the story of Charlie’s music therapy journey, it highlights the benefit of the music therapy’s role in all aspects of foster care and the need for collaboration with social welfare systems in under-resourced communities in South Africa.

Objective To explore health care providers’ views on the acceptability and feasibility of two models for integrating facility-based counsellor delivered mental health counselling into chronic disease care, and how such an approach could be improved in South Africa. Methods Fourteen focus group discussions and 25 in-depth individual interviews were conducted with 109 health care workers and facility managers from 24 primary health clinics in the Western Cape, South Africa. Results Findings suggested that despite recent efforts to integrate mental health counselling into chronic disease services for common mental disorders, there remains limited availability of psychosocial and psychological counselling. Feedback on the two models of integration suggested equipoise and the potential of a hybrid approach where these approaches may be tailored to the specific needs and available resources of each facility. Participants identified constraints within the health system and broader social context that require consideration for integrating mental health counselling into chronic disease care. Conclusion Although study participants unanimously agreed that counselling for common mental disorders should be integrated into chronic disease services, they had differing views on the type of model that should be adopted. There is a need for further testing of the two models and aspects of the health service that may require strengthening to implement any such model.

Research methods play an important role in the outcome of research projects and publication, which contribute to various aspects of a country’s development and well-being. This study explored the current use of research methods in psychological research within South Africa. The South African Journal of Psychology was chosen to represent a sample for this investigation. A systematised review was used to discern what research methods are being used, how these methods are being used and for what topics. Thus, 116 articles published in the South African Journal of Psychology from 2013 to 2017 were categorised. Research articles in the selected sample generally provided fewer details with regard to the applied methodology. Therefore, only the reported methodology in these articles is documented in this study. The type of research methods used in the South African Journal of Psychology focused mainly on quantitative and qualitative methods. These methods were typically applied to 10 research topics of which Social Psychology was most dominant, and Education and Learning least dominant. Data collection mostly consisted of questionnaires or interviews using samples of convenience with various techniques of data analysis. The results are discussed from the perspective of a national and an international study to highlight South Africa’s research position with regard to international publications. Overall, this investigation shows the uniqueness of South African research, areas for future study and research development, considering international trends.

The aim of this study was to investigate the experiences which impact on aspects of the lives and sense of well-being of elderly people in a township in South Africa in order to make recommendations for future service delivery. A cross- sectional, qualitative survey was carried out in Mfuleni Township, a part of the Cape Metropolitan Region in the Western Cape. Sixteen people of ages ranging from 60-82 years were conveniently selected from a group of elderly people who meet regularly at a community centre. Data were collected through focused group discussions and unstructured interviews. Analysis of data revealed three main categories namely, psychological/ emotional, socio-economic and health, under which different themes emerged. The experiences of individuals in a given society may vary, but somehow, their basic rights tend to be universal as revealed by the literature. Loneliness and isolation, lack of recreation facilities, loss of dignity and respect, poor health services and lack of shelter are some of the experiences expressed by the elderly people in this sample. These experiences highlight the need for clearly stated policies andcommitment by governmental and non-governmental structures, appropriate health service strategies and improved socio-economic standards supported by properly researched data.

Background: Sexual difficulties post gynaecological cancer treatment are commonplace and can impact multiple aspects of a woman’s life. Yet, health care practitioners remain reluctant to discuss sexuality from a holistic perspective with their patients.Aim: This article reviewed the literature on sexuality post gynaecological cancer treatment from the last 10 years. The aim was to understand research trends as well as identify gaps in the field.Methods: The review was framed using the neo-theoretical framework of sexuality. A comprehensive literature search, using the electronic databases EBSCOHost, Ovid, Clinical Key and PubMed, was conducted for articles concentrating on sexuality after gynaecological cancer treatment, published from 2007 to 2017 in English.Results: The results showed that the majority of the literature still approaches sexuality post treatment from a biomedical perspective with a focus on physical sexual functioning. However, there has been a slight shift towards understanding sexuality from a comprehensive standpoint, although there is a dearth of research relating to the psychological and relational aspects of sexuality.Conclusion: Comprehensive sexuality post treatment should be given further consideration in South Africa, and our unique socio-cultural context ought to be taken into consideration. Additionally, interventions at multiple levels should be explored, such as broadening sexual health training within the medical curriculum, considering the development of holistic cancer clinics and widening the scope of research relating to gynaecological cancer care.

The BRICS Forum, an independent international organization encouraging commercial, political, and cultural cooperation between Brazil, Russia, India, China, and South Africa, was formed in 2011, and these countries have a significant influence on their regional affairs. These nations were hit by COVID-19 at different times, and all adopted home quarantine to reduce the spread of the virus. We present a comparative analysis of actions of psychology and potential outcomes during the COVID-19 pandemic in BRICS nations regarding five aspects: psychology in health policies, social roles of psychology, socioeconomic context, actions for the general population, and health professionals during stage 1 of the pandemic, and possible actions in stage 2. Various types of actions were taken by psychologists in BRICS, with different levels of coordinated cooperation with respective governmental and non-governmental organizations, multiple and parallel efforts from different scientific societies, and professional regulatory agencies. Scientific societies have had an important role in coordinating some of these efforts, especially because they congregate the psychologists from different parts of these countries, improving communication and access to key information. The aim of these actions varies from improving situational skills and competences to increase the accessibility of psychological services and provide psychoeducation and telepsychology. We will consider the social importance of these actions within these countries as a global opportunity for psychology to stage in a complex context involving human health. The way psychology in BRICS will face this challenging situation is likely to produce important regional influence, stimulate scientific contribution, and increase the accessibility of psychology.

Introduction The genealogy of Feminist Standpoint Theory in the 1970s prioritised “locationality”, particularly the recognition of social and historical locations as valuable contribution to knowledge production. Pioneering figures such as Sandra Harding, Dorothy Smith, Patricia Hill Collins, Alison Jaggar, and Donna Haraway have argued that the oppressed must have some means (such as language, cultural practices) to enter the world of the oppressor in order to access some understanding of how the world works from the privileged perspective. In the essay “Meeting at the Edge of Fear: Theory on a World Scale”, the Australian social scientist Raewyn Connell explains that the production of feminist theory almost always comes from the global North. Connell critiques the hegemony of mainstream Northern feminism in her pyramidal model (59), showing how theory/knowledge is produced at the apex (global North) of a pyramid structure and “trickles down” (59) to the global South. Connell refers to a second model called mosaic epistemology which shows that multiple feminist ideologies across global North/South are juxtaposed against each other like tiles, with each specific culture making its own claims to validity.However, Nigerian feminist Bibi Bakare-Yusuf’s reflection on the fluidity of culture in her essay “Fabricating Identities” (5) suggests that fixing knowledge as Northern and Southern—disparate, discrete, and rigidly structured tiles—is also problematic. Connell proposes a third model called solidarity-based epistemology which involves mutual learning and critiquing with a focus on solidarity across differences. However, this is impractical in implementation especially given that feminist nomenclature relies on problematic terms such as “international”, “global North/South”, “transnational”, and “planetary” to categorise difference, spatiality, and temporality, often creating more distance than reciprocal exchange. Geographical specificity can be too limiting, but we also need to acknowledge that it is geographical locationality which becomes disadvantageous to overcome racial, cultural, and gender biases — and here are few examples.Nomenclatures: Global-North and Global South ParadigmThe global North/South terminology differentiating the two regions according to means of trade and relative wealth emerged from the Brandt Report’s delineation of the North as wealthy and South as impoverished in 1980s. Initially, these terms were a welcome repudiation of the hierarchical nomenclature of “developed” and “developing” nations. Nevertheless, the categories of North and South are problematic because of increased socio-economic heterogeneity causing erasure of local specificities without reflecting microscopic conflicts among feminists within the global North and the global South. Some feminist terms such as “Third World feminism” (Narayan), “global feminism” (Morgan), or “local feminisms” (Basu) aim to centre women's movements originating outside the West or in the postcolonial context, other labels attempt to making feminism more inclusive or reflective of cross-border linkages. These include “transnational feminism” (Grewal and Kaplan) and “feminism without borders” (Mohanty). In the 1980s, Kimberlé Williams Crenshaw’s concept of intersectionality garnered attention in the US along with Gloria Anzaldúa’s Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza (1987), which raised feminists’ awareness of educational, healthcare, and financial disparities among women and the experiences of marginalised people across the globe, leading to an interrogation of the aims and purposes of mainstream feminism. In general, global North feminism refers to white middle class feminist movements further expanded by concerns about civil rights and contemporary queer theory while global South feminism focusses on decolonisation, economic justice, and disarmament. However, the history of colonialism demonstrates that this paradigm is inadequate because the oppression and marginalisation of Black, Indigenous, and Queer activists have been avoided purposely in the homogenous models of women’s oppression depicted by white radical and liberal feminists. A poignant example is from Audre Lorde’s personal account:I wheeled my two-year-old daughter in a shopping cart through a supermarket in Eastchester in 1967, and a little white girl riding past in her mother’s cart calls out excitedly, ‘oh look, Mommy, a baby maid!’ And your mother shushes you, but does not correct you, and so fifteen years later, at a conference on racism, you can still find that story humorous. But I hear your laughter is full of terror and disease. (Lorde)This exemplifies how the terminology global North/South is a problem because there are inequities within the North that are parallel to the division of power and resources between North and South. Additionally, Susan Friedman in Planetary Modernisms observes that although the terms “Global North” and “Global South” are “rhetorically spatial” they are “as geographically imprecise and ideologically weighted as East/West” because “Global North” signifies “modern global hegemony” and “Global South” signifies the “subaltern, … —a binary construction that continues to place the West at the controlling centre of the plot” (Friedman, 123).Focussing on research-activism debate among US feminists, Sondra Hale takes another tack, emphasising that feminism in the global South is more pragmatic than the theory-oriented feminist discourse of the North (Hale). Just as the research-scholarship binary implies myopic assumption that scholarship is a privileged activity, Hale’s observations reveal a reductive assumption in the global North and global South nomenclature that feminism at the margins is theoretically inadequate. In other words, recognising the “North” as the site of theoretical processing is a euphemism for Northern feminists’ intellectual supremacy and the inferiority of Southern feminist praxis. To wit, theories emanating from the South are often overlooked or rejected outright for not aligning with Eurocentric framings of knowledge production, thereby limiting the scope of feminist theories to those that originate in the North. For example, while discussing Indigenous women’s craft-autobiography, the standard feminist approach is to apply Susan Sontag’s theory of gender and photography to these artefacts even though it may not be applicable given the different cultural, social, and class contexts in which they are produced. Consequently, Moroccan feminist Fatima Mernissi’s Islamic methodology (Mernissi), the discourse of land rights, gender equality, kinship, and rituals found in Bina Agarwal’s A Field of One’s Own, Marcia Langton’s “Grandmothers’ Law”, and the reflection on military intervention are missing from Northern feminist theoretical discussions. Moreover, “outsiders within” feminist scholars fit into Western feminist canonical requirements by publishing their works in leading Western journals or seeking higher degrees from Western institutions. In the process, Northern feminists’ intellectual hegemony is normalised and regularised. An example of the wealth of the materials outside of mainstream Western feminist theories may be found in the work of Girindrasekhar Bose, a contemporary of Sigmund Freud, founder of the Indian Psychoanalytic Society and author of the book Concept of Repression (1921). Bose developed the “vagina envy theory” long before the neo-Freudian psychiatrist Karen Horney proposed it, but it is largely unknown in the West. Bose’s article “The Genesis and Adjustment of the Oedipus Wish” discarded Freud’s theory of castration and explained how in the Indian cultural context, men can cherish an unconscious desire to bear a child and to be castrated, implicitly overturning Freud’s correlative theory of “penis envy.” Indeed, the case of India shows that the birth of theory can be traced back to as early as eighth century when study of verbal ornamentation and literary semantics based on the notion of dbvani or suggestion, and the aesthetic theory of rasa or "sentiment" is developed. If theory means systematic reasoning and conceptualising the structure of thought, methods, and epistemology, it exists in all cultures but unfortunately non-Western theory is largely invisible in classroom courses.In the recent book Queer Activism in India, Naisargi Dev shows that the theory is rooted in activism. Similarly, in her essay “Seed and Earth”, Leela Dube reveals how Eastern theories are distorted as they are Westernised. For instance, the “Purusha-Prakriti” concept in Hinduism where Purusha stands for pure consciousness and Prakriti stands for the entire phenomenal world is almost universally misinterpreted in terms of Western binary oppositions as masculine consciousness and feminine creative principle which has led to disastrous consequences including the legitimisation of male control over female sexuality. Dube argues how heteropatriarchy has twisted the Purusha-Prakriti philosophy to frame the reproductive metaphor of the male seed germinating in the female field for the advantage of patrilineal agrarian economies and to influence a homology between reproductive metaphors and cultural and institutional sexism (Dube 22-24). Attempting to reverse such distortions, ecofeminist Vandana Shiva rejects dualistic and exploitative “contemporary Western views of nature” (37) and employs the original Prakriti-Purusha cosmology to construct feminist vision and environmental ethics. Shiva argues that unlike Cartesian binaries where nature or Prakriti is inert and passive, in Hindu Philosophy, Purusha and Prakriti are inseparable and inviolable (Shiva 37-39). She refers to Kalika Purana where it is explained how rivers and mountains have a dual nature. “A river is a form of water, yet is has a distinct body … . We cannot know, when looking at a lifeless shell, that it contains a living being. Similarly, within the apparently inanimate rivers and mountains there dwells a hidden consciousness. Rivers and mountains take the forms they wish” (38).Scholars on the periphery who never migrated to the North find it difficult to achieve international audiences unless they colonise themselves, steeping their work in concepts and methods recognised by Western institutions and mimicking the style and format that western feminist journals follow. The best remedy for this would be to interpret border relations and economic flow between countries and across time through the prism of gender and race, an idea similar to what Sarah Radcliffe, Nina Laurie and Robert Andolina have called the “transnationalization of gender” (160).Migration between Global North and Global SouthReformulation of feminist epistemology might reasonably begin with a focus on migration and gender politics because international and interregional migration have played a crucial role in the production of feminist theories. While some white mainstream feminists acknowledge the long history of feminist imperialism, they need to be more assertive in centralising non-Western theories, scholarship, and institutions in order to resist economic inequalities and racist, patriarchal global hierarchies of military and organisational power. But these possibilities are stymied by migrants’ “de-skilling”, which maintains unequal power dynamics: when migrants move from the global South to global North, many end up in jobs for which they are overqualified because of their cultural, educational, racial, or religious alterity.In the face of a global trend of movement from South to North in search of a “better life”, visual artist Naiza Khan chose to return to Pakistan after spending her childhood in Lebanon before being trained at the University of Oxford. Living in Karachi over twenty years, Khan travels globally, researching, delivering lectures, and holding exhibitions on her art work. Auj Khan’s essay “Peripheries of Thought and Practise in Naiza Khan’s Work” argues: “Khan seems to be going through a perpetual diaspora within an ownership of her hybridity, without having really left any of her abodes. This agitated space of modern hybrid existence is a rich and ripe ground for resolution and understanding. This multiple consciousness is an edge for anyone in that space, which could be effectively made use of to establish new ground”. Naiza Khan’s works embrace loss or nostalgia and a sense of choice and autonomy within the context of unrestricted liminal geographical boundaries.Early work such as “Chastity Belt,” “Heavenly Ornaments”, “Dream”, and “The Skin She Wears” deal with the female body though Khan resists the “feminist artist” category, essentially because of limited Western associations and on account of her paradoxical, diasporic subjectivity: of “the self and the non-self, the doable and the undoable and the anxiety of possibility and choice” (Khan Webpage). Instead, Khan theorises “gender” as “personal sexuality”. The symbolic elements in her work such as corsets, skirts, and slips, though apparently Western, are purposely destabilised as she engages in re-constructing the cartography of the body in search of personal space. In “The Wardrobe”, Khan establishes a path for expressing women’s power that Western feminism barely acknowledges. Responding to the 2007 Islamabad Lal Masjid siege by militants, Khan reveals the power of the burqa to protect Muslim men by disguising their gender and sexuality; women escape the Orientalist gaze. For Khan, home is where her art is—beyond the global North and South dichotomy.In another example of de-centring Western feminist theory, the Indian-British sitar player Anoushka Shankar, who identifies as a radical pro-feminist, in her recent musical album “Land of Gold” produces what Chilla Bulbeck calls “braiding at the borderlands”. As a humanitarian response to the trauma of displacement and the plight of refugees, Shankar focusses on women giving birth during migration and the trauma of being unable to provide stability and security to their children. Grounded in maternal humility, Shankar’s album, composed by artists of diverse background as Akram Khan, singer Alev Lenz, and poet Pavana Reddy, attempts to dissolve boundaries in the midst of chaos—the dislocation, vulnerability and uncertainty experienced by migrants. The album is “a bit of this, and a bit of that” (borrowing Salman Rushdie’s definition of migration in Satanic Verses), both in terms of musical genre and cultural identities, which evokes emotion and subjective fluidity. An encouraging example of truly transnational feminist ethics, Shankar’s album reveals the chasm between global North and global South represented in the tension of a nascent friendship between a white, Western little girl and a migrant refugee child. Unlike mainstream feminism, where migration is often sympathetically feminised and exotified—or, to paraphrase bell hooks, difference is commodified (hooks 373) — Shankar’s album simultaneously exhibits regional, national, and transnational elements. The album inhabits multiple borderlands through musical genres, literature and politics, orality and text, and ethnographic and intercultural encounters. The message is: “the body is a continent / But may your heart always remain the sea" (Shankar). The human rights advocate and lawyer Randa Abdel-Fattah, in her autobiographical novel Does My Head Look Big in This?, depicts herself as “colourful adjectives” (such as “darkies”, “towel-heads”, or the “salami eaters”), painful identities imposed on her for being a Muslim woman of colour. These ultimately empower her to embrace her identity as a Palestinian-Egyptian-Australian Muslim writer (Abdel-Fattah 359). In the process, Abdel-Fattah reveals how mainstream feminism participates in her marginalisation: “You’re constantly made to feel as you’re commenting as a Muslim, and somehow your views are a little bit inferior or you’re somehow a little bit more brainwashed” (Abdel-Fattah, interviewed in 2015).With her parental roots in the global South (Egyptian mother and Palestinian father), Abdel-Fattah was born and brought up in the global North, Australia (although geographically located in global South, Australia is categorised as global North for being above the world average GDP per capita) where she embraced her faith and religious identity apparently because of Islamophobia:I refuse to be an apologist, to minimise this appalling state of affairs… While I'm sick to death, as a Muslim woman, of the hypocrisy and nonsensical fatwas, I confess that I'm also tired of white women who think the answer is flashing a bit of breast so that those "poor," "infantilised" Muslim women can be "rescued" by the "enlightened" West - as if freedom was the sole preserve of secular feminists. (Abdel-Fattah, "Ending Oppression")Abdel-Fattah’s residency in the global North while advocating for justice and equality for Muslim women in both the global North and South is a classic example of the mutual dependency between the feminists in global North and global South, and the need to recognise and resist neoliberal policies applied in by the North to the South. In her novel, sixteen-year-old Amal Mohamed chooses to become a “full-time” hijab wearer in an elite school in Melbourne just after the 9/11 tragedy, the Bali bombings which killed 88 Australians, and the threat by Algerian-born Abdel Nacer Benbrika, who planned to attack popular places in Sydney and Melbourne. In such turmoil, Amal’s decision to wear the hijab amounts to more than resistance to Islamophobia: it is a passionate search for the true meaning of Islam, an attempt to embrace her hybridity as an Australian Muslim girl and above all a step towards seeking spiritual self-fulfilment. As the novel depicts Amal’s challenging journey amidst discouraging and painful, humiliating experiences, the socially constructed “bloody confusing identity hyphens” collapse (5). What remains is the beautiful veil that stands for Amal’s multi-valence subjectivity. The different shades of her hijab reflect different moods and multiple “selves” which are variously tentative, rebellious, romantic, argumentative, spiritual, and ambitious: “I am experiencing a new identity, a new expression of who I am on the inside” (25).In Griffith Review, Randa-Abdel Fattah strongly criticises the book Nine Parts of Desire by Geraldine Brooks, a Wall-Street Journal reporter who travelled from global North to the South to cover Muslim women in the Middle East. Recognising the liberal feminist’s desire to explore the Orient, Randa-Abdel calls the book an example of feminist Orientalism because of the author’s inability to understand the nuanced diversity in the Muslim world, Muslim women’s purposeful downplay of agency, and, most importantly, Brooks’s inevitable veil fetishism in her trip to Gaza and lack of interest in human rights violations of Palestinian women or their lack of access to education and health services. Though Brooks travelled from Australia to the Middle East, she failed to develop partnerships with the women she met and distanced herself from them. This underscores the veracity of Amal’s observation in Abdel Fattah’s novel: “It’s mainly the migrants in my life who have inspired me to understand what it means to be an Aussie” (340). 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To Remember‘The central problem of today’s global interactions is the tension between cultural homogenisation and cultural heterogenisation.’ (Appadurai 49)While this statement has been made more than twenty years, it remains more relevant than ever. The current age is one of widespread global migrations and dis-placement. The phenomenon of globalisation is the first and major factor for this newly created shift of ground, of transmigration as defined by its etymological meaning. However, a growing number of migrations also result from social or political oppression and war as we witness the current flow of refugees from Africa or Syria to Europe and with growing momentum, from climate change, the people of Tokelau or Nauru migrating as a result of the rise of sea levels in their South Pacific homeland. Such global migrations lead to an intense co-habitation of various cultures, ethnicities and religions in host societies. In late twentieth century Giddens explains this complexity and discusses how globalisation requires a re-organisation of time and space in social and cultural life of both the host and the migrant (Giddens 14). In the host country, Appadurai terms the physical consequences of this phenomenon as the new ‘ethnoscape’ (Appadurai 51). This fact is particularly relevant to New Zealand, a country that is currently seeing an unprecedented level of immigration from various and numerous ethnic groups which is evidently influencing the makeup of its entire population.For the migrant, according to Xavier & Rosaldo, social life following migration re-establishes itself on two fronts: the first is the pre-modern manner of being present through participation in localised activities at specific locales; the second is about fostering relationships with absent others through media and across the world. These “settings for distanced relations – for relations at a distance, [are] stretched out across time and space” (Xavier & Rosaldo 8). Throughout the world, people in dis-placement reorganise their societies in both of these fronts.Dis-placement is ‘a potentially traumatic event that is collectively experienced" (Norris 128). Disaster and trauma related dis-placement as stressors happen to entire communities, not just individuals, families and neighbourhoods. Members are exposed together and it has been argued, must, therefore, recover together, (Norris 145). On one hand, in the situation of collective trauma some attachment to a new space ‘increases the likelihood that a community as a whole has the will to rebuild’ (Norris 145). On the other, it is suggested that for the individual, place attachment makes the necessary relocation much harder. It is in re-location however that the will to recreate or reproduce will emerge. Indeed part of the recovery in the case of relocation can be the reconstruction of place. The places of past experiences and rituals for meaning are commonly recreated or reproduced as new places of attachment abroad. The will and ability to reimagine and re-materialise (Gupta & Ferguson 70) the lost heritage is motivational and defines resilience.This is something a great deal of communities such as the displaced Coptic community in New Zealand look to achieve, re-constructing a familiar space, where rituals and meaning can reaffirm their ideal existence, the only form of existence they have ever known before relocation. In this instance it is the reconstruction and reinterpretation of a traditional Coptic Orthodox church. Resilience can be examined as a ‘sense of community’, a concept that binds people with shared values. Concern for community and respect for others can transcend the physical and can bind disparate individuals in ways that otherwise might require more formal organisations. It has been noted that trauma due to displacement and relocation can enhance a sense of closeness and stronger belonging (Norris 139). Indeed citizen participation is fundamental to community resilience (Norris 139) and it entails the engagement of community members in formal organisations, including religious congregations (Perkins et al. 2002; Norris 139) and collective gatherings around cultural rituals. However, the displacement also strengthens the emotional ties at the individual level to the homeland, to kinfolk and to the more abstract cultural mores and ideas.Commitment and AttachmentRecalling places of collective events and rituals such as assembly halls and spaces of worship is crucially important for dis-placed communities. The attachment to place exposes the challenges and opportunities for recollecting the spirit of space in the situation of a people abroad. This in turn, raises the question of memory and its representation in re-creating the architectural qualities of the cultural space from its original context. This article offers the employ of visual representation (drawings) as a strategy of recall. To explore these ideas further, the situation of the Egyptian community of Coptic Orthodox faith, relocated, displaced and living ‘abroad’ in New Zealand is being considered. This small community that emigrated to New Zealand firstly in the 1950s then in the 1970s represents in many ways the various ethnicities and religious beliefs found in New Zealand.Rituals and congregations are held in collective spaces and while the attachment to the collective is essential, the question to be addressed here relates to the role of the physical community space in forming or maintaining the attachment to community (Pretty, Chipuer, and Bramston 78). Groups or societies use systems of shared meanings to interpret and make sense of the world. However, shared meanings have traditionally been tied to the idea of a fixed territory (Manzo & Devine-Wright 335, Xavier & Rosaldo 10). Manzo and Perkins further suggest that place attachments provide stability and are integral to self-definitions (335-350). Image by Vioula Said.Stability and self-definition and ultimately identity are in turn, placed in jeopardy with the process of displacement and de-territorilisation. Shared meanings are shifted and potentially lost when the resultant instability occurs. Norris finds that in the strongest cases, individuals, neighbourhoods and communities lose their sense of identity and self-definition when displaced due to the destruction of natural and built environments (Norris 139). This comment is particularly relevant to people who are emigrating to New Zealand as refugees from climate change such as Pasifika or from wars and oppression such as the Coptic community. This loss strengthens the requirement for something greater than just a common space of congregation, something that transcends the physical. The sense of belonging and identity in the complexity of potential cultural heterogenisation is at issue. The role of architecture in dis-placement is thereby brought into question seeking answers to how it should facilitate a space of attachment for resilience, for identity and for belonging.A unity of place and people has long been assumed in the anthropological concept of culture (Gupta & Ferguson: 75). According to Xavier & Rosaldo the historical tendency has been to connect the realm of constructing meaning to the particularities of place (Xavier & Rosaldo 10). Thereby, cultural meanings are intrinsically linked to place. Therefore, place attachment to the reproduced or re-interpreted place is crucially important for dis-placed societies in re-establishing social and cultural content. Architectural spaces are the obvious holders of cultural, social and spiritual content for such enterprises. Hillier suggests that all "architecture is, in essence, the application of speculative and abstract thought to the non-discursive aspects of building, and because it is so, it is also its application to the social and cultural contents of buildings” (Hillier 3).To Re-ImagineAn attempt to reflect the history, stories and the cultural mores of the Coptic community in exile by privileging material and design authenticity, merits attention. An important aspect of the Coptic faith lies within its adherence to symbolism and rituals and strict adherence to the traditional forms and configurations of space may reflect some authenticity of the customary qualities of the space (Said 109). However, the original space is itself in flux, changing with time and environmental conditions; as are the memories of those travelling abroad as they come from different moments in time. Experience has shown that a communities’ will to re-establish social and cultural content through their traditional architecture on new sites has not always resurrected their history and reignited their original spirit. The impact of the new context’s reality on the reproduction or re interpretation of place may not fully enable its entire community’s attachment to it. There are significant implications from the displacement of site that lead to a disassociation from the former architectural language. Consequently there is a cultural imperative for an approach that entails the engagement of community in the re-making of a cultural space before responding to the demands of site. Cultures come into conflict when the new ways of knowing and acting are at odds with the old. Recreating a place without acknowledging these tensions may lead to non-attachment. Facing cultural paradox and searching for authenticity explains in part, the value of intangible heritage and the need to privilege it over its tangible counterpart.Intangible HeritageThe intangible qualities of place and the memory of them are anchors for a dis-placed community to reimagine and re-materialise its lost heritage and to recreate a new place for attachment. This brings about the notion of the authenticity of cultural heritage, it exposes the uncertain value of reconstruction and it exhibits the struggles associated with de-territorilisation in such a process.In dealing with cultural heritage and contemporary conservation practice with today’s wider understanding of the interdisciplinary field of heritage studies, several authors discuss the relevance and applicability of the 1964 Venice Charter on architectural heritage. Glendinning argues that today’s heritage practices exploit the physical remains of the past for useful modern and aesthetic purposes as they are less concerned with the history they once served (Glendinning 3). For example, the act of modernising and restoring a historic museum is counterbalanced by its ancient exhibits thereby highlighting modern progress. Others support this position by arguing that relationships, associations and meanings that contribute to the value of a site should not be dismissed in favour of physical remains (Hill 21). Smith notes that the less tangible approaches struggle to gain leverage within conventional practice, and therefore lack authenticity. This can be evidenced in so many of our reconstructed heritage sites. This leads to the importance of the intangible when dealing with architectural heritage. Image by Vioula Said.In practice, a number of different methods and approaches are employed to safeguard intangible cultural heritage. In order to provide a common platform for considering intangible heritage, UNESCO developed the 2003 ‘Convention for the Safeguarding of Intangible Cultural Heritage’. Rather than simply addressing physical heritage, this convention helped to define the intangible and served to promote its recognition. Intangible cultural heritage is defined as expressions, representations, practices, skills and knowledge that an individual a community or group recognise as their cultural heritage.Safeguarding intangible heritage requires a form of translation, for example, from the oral form into a material form, e.g. archives, inventories, museums and audio or film records. This ‘freezing’ of intangible heritage requires thoughtfulness and care in the choosing of the appropriate methods and materials. At the same time, the ephemeral aspects of intangible heritage make it vulnerable to being absorbed by the typecast cultural models predominant at any particular time. This less tangible characteristic of history and the pivotal role it plays in conveying a dialogue between the past and the present demands alternative methods. At a time when the identity of dis-placed people is in danger of being diminished by dominant host societies, the safeguarding of intangible cultural heritage is critically important in re-establishing social and cultural content.Recent news has shown the destruction of many Coptic churches in Egypt, through fire at increasing rates since 2011 or by bombings such as the ones witnessed in April 2017. For this particular problem of the Coptic Community, the authors propose that visual representation of spiritual spaces may aid in recollecting and re-establishing such heritage. The illustrations in this article present the personal journey of an artist of Egyptian Copt descent drawing from her memories of a place and time within the sphere of religious rituals. As Treib suggests, “Our recollections are situational and spatialised memories; they are memories attached to places and events” (Treib 22). The intertwining of real and imagined memory navigates to define the spirit of place of a lost time and community.The act of remembering is a societal ritual and in and of itself is part of the globalised world we live in today. The memories lodged in physical places range from incidents of personal biography to the highly refined and extensively interpreted segments of cultural lore (Treib 63). The act of remembering allows for our sense of identity and reflective cultural distinctiveness as well as shaping our present lives from that of our past. To remember is to celebrate or to commemorate the past (Treib 25).Memory has the aptitude to generate resilient links between self and environment, self and culture, as well as self and collective. “Our access to the past is no longer mediated by the account of a witness or a narrator, or by the eye of a photographer. We will not respond to a re-presentation of the historical event, but to a presentation or performance of it” (van Alphen 11). This statement aligns with Smith’s critical analysis of heritage and identity, not as a set of guidelines but as a performance experienced through the imagination, “experienced within a layering of performative qualities that embody remembrance and commemoration and aim to construct a sense of place and understanding within the present”(van Alphen 11). Heritage is hereby investigated as a re-constructed experience; attempting to identify a palette of memory-informed qualities that can be applied to the re-establishing of the heritage lost. Here memory will be defined as Aristotle’s Anamnesis, to identify the capacity to stimulate a range of physical and sensory experiences in the retrieval of heritage that may otherwise be forgotten (Cubitt 75; Huyssen 80). In architectural terms, Anamnesis, refers to the process of retrieval associated with intangible heritage, as a performance aimed at the recovery of memory, experienced through the imagination (Said 143). Unfortunately, when constructing an experience aimed at the recovery of memory, the conditions of a particular moment do not, once passed, move into a state of retirement from which they can be retrieved at a later date. Likewise, the conditions and occurrences of one moment can never be precisely recaptured, Treib describes memory as an interventionist:it magnifies, diminishes, adjusts, darkens, or illuminates places that are no longer extant, transforming the past anew every time it is called to mind, shorn or undesirable reminiscence embellished by wishful thinking, coloured by present concerns. (Treib 188)To remember them, Cubitt argues, we must reconstruct them; “not in the sense of reassembling something that has been taken to pieces and carefully stored, but in the sense of imaginatively configuring something that can no longer have the character of actuality” (Cubitt 77). Image by Vioula Said.Traditionally, history and past events have been put in writing to preserve their memory within the present. However, as argued by Treib, this mode of representation is inherently linear and static; contributing to a flattening of history. Similarly, Nelson states; “I consider how a visual mode of representation – as opposed to textual or oral – helps to shape memory” (Nelson 37). The unflattening of past events can occur by actively engaging with culture and tradition through the mechanism of reconstruction and representation of the intangible heritage (Said 145). As memory becomes crucial in affirming collective identity, place also becomes crucial in anchoring such experience. Interactive exhibition facilitates this act using imagery, interpretation and physical engagement while architectural place gives distinctiveness to cultural products and practices. Architectural space is always intrinsically bound with cultural practice. Appadurai says that where a groups’ past increasingly becomes part of museums, exhibits and collection, its culture becomes less a realm of reproducible practices and more an arena of choices and cultural reproduction (59). When place is shifted (de-territorilisation in migration) the loss of territorial roots brings “an erosion of the cultural distinctiveness of places, a de-territorilisation of identity” (Gupta & Ferguson 68). According to Gupta & Ferguson, “remembered places have …. often served as symbolic anchors of community for dispersed people” (Gupta & Ferguson 69).To Re-MakeIn the context of de-territorialisation the intangible qualities of the original space offer an avenue for the creation and experience of a new space in the spirit of its source. Simply reproducing a traditional building layout in the new territory or recollecting artefacts does not suffice in recalling the essence of place, nor does descriptive writing no matter how compelling. Issues of authenticity and identity underpin both of these strategies. Accepting the historical tendency to reconnect the realm of constructing meaning to the particularities of place requires an investigation on those ‘particularities of place’. Intangible heritage can bridge the problems of being out of one’s country, overseas, or ‘abroad’. While architecture can be as Hillier suggests, “in essence, the application of speculative and abstract thought to the non-discursive aspects of building” (Hillier 3). Architecture should not be reproduced but rather re-constructed as a holder or facilitator of recollection and collective performance. It is within the performance of intangible heritage in the ‘new’ architecture that a sense of belonging, identity and reconnection with home can be experienced abroad. Its visual representation takes centre stage in the process. The situation of the Egyptian community of Coptic faith in New Zealand is here looked at as an illustration. The intangibility of architectural heritage is created through one of the author’s graphic work here presented. Image by Vioula Said.The concept of drawing as an anchor for memory and drawing as a method to inhabit space is exposed and this presents a situation where drawing has an experiential nature in itself.It has been argued that a drawing is simply an image that compresses an entire experience of temporality. Pallasmaa suggests that “every drawing is an excavation into the past and memory of its creator” (Pallasmaa 91). The drawing is considered as a process of both observation and expression, of receiving and giving. The imagined or the remembered space turns real and becomes part of the experiential reality of the viewer and of the image maker. The drawing as a visual representation of the remembered experience within the embrace of an interior space is drawn from the image maker’s personal experience. It is the expression of their own recollection and not necessarily the precise realityor qualities perceived or remembered by others. This does not suggest that such drawing has a limited value. This article promotes the idea that such visual representation has potentially a shared transformative role. The development of drawings in this realm of intangible heritage exposes the fact that the act of drawing memory may provide an intimate relationship between architecture, past events within the space, the beholder of the memory and eventually the viewer of the drawing. The drawings can be considered a reminder of moments past, and an alternative method to the physical reproduction or preservation of the built form. It is a way to recollect, express and give new value to the understanding of intangible heritage, and constructs meaning.From the development of a personal spatial and intuitive recall to produce visual expressions of a remembered space and time, the image author optimistically seeks others to deeply engage with these images of layered memories. They invite the viewer to re-create their own memory by engaging with the author’s own perception. Simply put, drawings of a personal memory are offered as a convincing representation of intangible heritage and as an authentic expression of the character or essence of place to its audience. This is offered as a method of reconstructing what is re-membered, as a manifestation of symbolic anchor and as a first step towards attachment to place. The relevance of which may be pertinent for people in exile in a foreign land.ReferencesAppadurai, A. “Sovereignty without Territoriality: Notes for a Postnational Geography.” The Geography of Identity. Ed. Patricia Yaeger. Ann Arbor: U of Michigan Press, 1997. 40–58. Brown, R.H., and B. Brown. “The Making of Memory: The Politics of Archives, Libraries and Museum in the Construction of National Consciousness.” History of Human Sciences 11.4 (1993): 17–32.Clifford, James. Routes: Travel and Translation in the Late Twentieth Century. Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1997.Cubitt, Geoffrey. History and Memory. London: Oxford UP, 2013.Giddens, A. The Consequences of Modernity. Stanford: Stanford UP, 1990.Gupta, A., and J. Ferguson. “Beyond ‘Culture’: Space, Identity, and the Politics of Difference.” Religion and Social Justice for Immigrants. Ed. Pierrette Hondagneu-Sotelo. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers UP, 2006.Glendinning, Miles. The Conservation Movement: A History of Architectural Preservation: Antiquity to Modernity. London: Routledge, 2013.Hill, Jennifer. The Double Dimension: Heritage and Innovation. Canberra: The Royal Australian Institute of Architects, 2004.Hillier, Bill, Space Is the Machine. Cambridge, Mass.: Cambridge UP, 1996.Huyssen, Andreas. Present Pasts, Urban Palimpsests and the Politics of Memory. Stanford: Stanford UP, 2003.Lira, Sergio, and Rogerio Amoeda. Constructing Intangible Heritage. Barcelos, Portugal: Green Lines Institute for Sustainable Development, 2010.Manzo, Lynne C., and Douglas Perkins. “Finding Common Ground: The Importance of Place Attachment to Community Participation and Planning.” Journal of Planning Literature 20 (2006): 335–350. Manzo, Lynne C., and Patrick Devine-Wright. Place Attachment: Advances in Theory, Methods and Applications. London: Routledge. 2013.Nelson, Robert S., and Margaret Olin. Monuments and Memory, Made and Unmade. Chicago: U of Chicago Press, 2003.Norris, F.H., S.P. Stevens, B. Pfefferbaum, KF. Wyche, and R.L. Pfefferbaum. “Community Resilience as a Metaphor, Theory, Set of Capacities and Strategy for Disaster Readiness.” American Journal of Community Psychology 41 (2008): 127–150.Perkins, D.D., J. Hughey, and P.W. Speer. “Community Psychology Perspectives on Social Capital Theory and Community Development Practice.” Journal of the Community Development Society 33.1 (2002): 33–52.Pretty, Grace, Heather H. Chipuer, and Paul Bramston. “Sense of Place Amongst Adolescents and Adults in Two Rural Australian Towns: The Discriminating Features of Place Attachment, Sense of Community and Place Dependence in Relation to Place Identity.” Journal of Environmental Psychology 23.3 (2003): 273–87.Said, Vioula. Coptic Ruins Reincarnated. Thesis. Master of Interior Architecture. Victoria University of Wellington, 2014.Smith, Laura Jane. Uses of Heritage. New York: Routledge, 2006.Treib, Marc. Spatial Recall: Memory in Architecture and Landscape. New York: Routledge, 2013.UNESCO. “Text of the Convention for the Safeguarding of the Intangible Human Heritage.” 2003. 15 Aug. 2017 <http://www.unesco.org/culture/ich/en/convention>.Van Alphen, Ernst. Caught by History: Holocaust Effects in Contemporary Art, Literature and Theory. Redwood City, CA: Stanford UP, 1997.Xavier, Jonathan, and Renato Rosaldo. “Thinking the Global.” The Anthropology of Globalisation. Eds. Jonathan Xavier Inda and Renato Rosaldo. 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Introduction Most developed countries, including Australia, have a strong focus on national, state and local strategies for emergency management and response in the face of disasters and crises. This framework can include coping with catastrophic dislocation, service disruption, injury or loss of life in the face of natural disasters such as major fires, floods, earthquakes or other large-impact natural events, as well as dealing with similar catastrophes resulting from human actions such as bombs, biological agents, cyber-attacks targeting essential services such as communications networks, or other crises affecting large populations. Emergency management frameworks for crisis and disaster response are distinguished by their focus on the domestic context for such events; that is, how to manage and assist the ways in which civilian populations, who are for the most part inexperienced and untrained in dealing with crises and disasters, are able to respond and behave in such situations so as to minimise the impacts of a catastrophic event. Even in countries like Australia that demonstrate a strong public commitment to cultural pluralism and social cohesion, ethno-cultural diversity can be seen as a risk or threat to national security and values at times of political, natural, economic and/or social tensions and crises. Australian government policymakers have recently focused, with increasing intensity, on “community resilience” as a key element in countering extremism and enhancing emergency preparedness and response. In some sense, this is the result of a tacit acknowledgement by government agencies that there are limits to what they can do for domestic communities should such a catastrophic event occur, and accordingly, the focus in recent times has shifted to how governments can best help people to help themselves in such situations, a key element of the contemporary “resilience” approach. Yet despite the robustly multicultural nature of Australian society, explicit engagement with Australia’s cultural diversity flickers only fleetingly on this agenda, which continues to pursue approaches to community resilience in the absence of understandings about how these terms and formations may themselves need to be diversified to maximise engagement by all citizens in a multicultural polity. There have been some recent efforts in Australia to move in this direction, for example the Australian Emergency Management Institute (AEMI)’s recent suite of projects with culturally and linguistically diverse (CALD) communities (2006-2010) and the current Australia-New Zealand Counter-Terrorism Committee-supported project on “Harnessing Resilience Capital in Culturally Diverse Communities to Counter Violent Extremism” (Grossman and Tahiri), which I discuss in a longer forthcoming version of this essay (Grossman). Yet the understanding of ethno-cultural identity and difference that underlies much policy thinking on resilience remains problematic for the way in which it invests in a view of the cultural dimensions of community resilience as relic rather than resource – valorising the preservation of and respect for cultural norms and traditions, but silent on what different ethno-cultural communities might contribute toward expanded definitions of both “community” and “resilience” by virtue of the transformative potential and existing cultural capital they bring with them into new national and also translocal settings. For example, a primary conclusion of the joint program between AEMI and the Australian Multicultural Commission is that CALD communities are largely “vulnerable” in the context of disasters and emergency management and need to be better integrated into majority-culture models of theorising and embedding community resilience. This focus on stronger national integration and the “vulnerability” of culturally diverse ethno-cultural communities in the Australian context echoes the work of scholars beyond Australia such as McGhee, Mouritsen (Reflections, Citizenship) and Joppke. They argue that the “civic turn” in debates around resurgent contemporary nationalism and multicultural immigration policies privileges civic integration over genuine two-way multiculturalism. This approach sidesteps the transculturational (Ortiz; Welsch; Mignolo; Bennesaieh; Robins; Stein) aspects of contemporary social identities and exchange by paying lip-service to cultural diversity while affirming a neo-liberal construct of civic values and principles as a universalising goal of Western democratic states within a global market economy. It also suggests a superficial tribute to cultural diversity that does not embed diversity comprehensively at the levels of either conceptualising or resourcing different elements of Australian transcultural communities within the generalised framework of “community resilience.” And by emphasising cultural difference as vulnerability rather than as resource or asset, it fails to acknowledge the varieties of resilience capital that many culturally diverse individuals and communities may bring with them when they resettle in new environments, by ignoring the question of what “resilience” actually means to those from culturally diverse communities. In so doing, it also avoids the critical task of incorporating intercultural definitional diversity around the concepts of both “community” and “resilience” used to promote social cohesion and the capacity to recover from disasters and crises. How we might do differently in thinking about the broader challenges for multiculturalism itself as a resilient transnational concept and practice? The Concept of Resilience The meanings of resilience vary by disciplinary perspective. While there is no universally accepted definition of the concept, it is widely acknowledged that resilience refers to the capacity of an individual to do well in spite of exposure to acute trauma or sustained adversity (Liebenberg 219). Originating in the Latin word resilio, meaning ‘to jump back’, there is general consensus that resilience pertains to an individual’s, community’s or system’s ability to adapt to and ‘bounce back’ from a disruptive event (Mohaupt 63, Longstaff et al. 3). Over the past decade there has been a dramatic rise in interest in the clinical, community and family sciences concerning resilience to a broad range of adversities (Weine 62). While debate continues over which discipline can be credited with first employing resilience as a concept, Mohaupt argues that most of the literature on resilience cites social psychology and psychiatry as the origin for the concept beginning in the mid-20th century. The pioneer researchers of what became known as resilience research studied the impact on children living in dysfunctional families. For example, the findings of work by Garmezy, Werner and Smith and Rutter showed that about one third of children in these studies were coping very well despite considerable adversities and traumas. In asking what it was that prevented the children in their research from being negatively influenced by their home environments, such research provided the basis for future research on resilience. Such work was also ground-breaking for identifying the so-called ‘protective factors’ or resources that individuals can operationalise when dealing with adversity. In essence, protective factors are those conditions in the individual that protect them from the risk of dysfunction and enable recovery from trauma. They mitigate the effects of stressors or risk factors, that is, those conditions that predispose one to harm (Hajek 15). Protective factors include the inborn traits or qualities within an individual, those defining an individual’s environment, and also the interaction between the two. Together, these factors give people the strength, skills and motivation to cope in difficult situations and re-establish (a version of) ‘normal’ life (Gunnestad). Identifying protective factors is important in terms of understanding the particular resources a given sociocultural group has at its disposal, but it is also vital to consider the interconnections between various protective mechanisms, how they might influence each other, and to what degree. An individual, for instance, might display resilience or adaptive functioning in a particular domain (e.g. emotional functioning) but experience significant deficits in another (e.g. academic achievement) (Hunter 2). It is also essential to scrutinise how the interaction between protective factors and risk factors creates patterns of resilience. Finally, a comprehensive understanding of the interrelated nature of protective mechanisms and risk factors is imperative for designing effective interventions and tailored preventive strategies (Weine 65). In short, contemporary thinking about resilience suggests it is neither entirely personal nor strictly social, but an interactive and iterative combination of the two. It is a quality of the environment as much as the individual. For Ungar, resilience is the complex entanglements between “individuals and their social ecologies [that] will determine the degree of positive outcomes experienced” (3). Thinking about resilience as context-dependent is important because research that is too trait-based or actor-centred risks ignoring any structural or institutional forces. A more ecological interpretation of resilience, one that takes into a person’s context and environment into account, is vital in order to avoid blaming the victim for any hardships they face, or relieving state and institutional structures from their responsibilities in addressing social adversity, which can “emphasise self-help in line with a neo-conservative agenda instead of stimulating state responsibility” (Mohaupt 67). Nevertheless, Ungar posits that a coherent definition of resilience has yet to be developed that adequately ‘captures the dual focus of the individual and the individual’s social ecology and how the two must both be accounted for when determining the criteria for judging outcomes and discerning processes associated with resilience’ (7). Recent resilience research has consequently prompted a shift away from vulnerability towards protective processes — a shift that highlights the sustained capabilities of individuals and communities under threat or at risk. Locating ‘Culture’ in the Literature on Resilience However, an understanding of the role of culture has remained elusive or marginalised within this trend; there has been comparatively little sustained investigation into the applicability of resilience constructs to non-western cultures, or how the resources available for survival might differ from those accessible to western populations (Ungar 4). As such, a growing body of researchers is calling for more rigorous inquiry into culturally determined outcomes that might be associated with resilience in non-western or multicultural cultures and contexts, for example where Indigenous and minority immigrant communities live side by side with their ‘mainstream’ neighbours in western settings (Ungar 2). ‘Cultural resilience’ considers the role that cultural background plays in determining the ability of individuals and communities to be resilient in the face of adversity. For Clauss-Ehlers, the term describes the degree to which the strengths of one’s culture promote the development of coping (198). Culturally-focused resilience suggests that people can manage and overcome stress and trauma based not on individual characteristics alone, but also from the support of broader sociocultural factors (culture, cultural values, language, customs, norms) (Clauss-Ehlers 324). The innate cultural strengths of a culture may or may not differ from the strengths of other cultures; the emphasis here is not so much comparatively inter-cultural as intensively intra-cultural (VanBreda 215). A culturally focused resilience model thus involves “a dynamic, interactive process in which the individual negotiates stress through a combination of character traits, cultural background, cultural values, and facilitating factors in the sociocultural environment” (Clauss-Ehlers 199). In understanding ways of ‘coping and hoping, surviving and thriving’, it is thus crucial to consider how culturally and linguistically diverse minorities navigate the cultural understandings and assumptions of both their countries of origin and those of their current domicile (Ungar 12). Gunnestad claims that people who master the rules and norms of their new culture without abandoning their own language, values and social support are more resilient than those who tenaciously maintain their own culture at the expense of adjusting to their new environment. They are also more resilient than those who forego their own culture and assimilate with the host society (14). Accordingly, if the combination of both valuing one’s culture as well as learning about the culture of the new system produces greater resilience and adaptive capacities, serious problems can arise when a majority tries to acculturate a minority to the mainstream by taking away or not recognising important parts of the minority culture. In terms of resilience, if cultural factors are denied or diminished in accounting for and strengthening resilience – in other words, if people are stripped of what they possess by way of resilience built through cultural knowledge, disposition and networks – they do in fact become vulnerable, because ‘they do not automatically gain those cultural strengths that the majority has acquired over generations’ (Gunnestad 14). Mobilising ‘Culture’ in Australian Approaches to Community Resilience The realpolitik of how concepts of resilience and culture are mobilised is highly relevant here. As noted above, when ethnocultural difference is positioned as a risk or a threat to national identity, security and values, this is precisely the moment when vigorously, even aggressively, nationalised definitions of ‘community’ and ‘identity’ that minoritise or disavow cultural diversities come to the fore in public discourse. The Australian evocation of nationalism and national identity, particularly in the way it has framed policy discussion on managing national responses to disasters and threats, has arguably been more muted than some of the European hysteria witnessed recently around cultural diversity and national life. Yet we still struggle with the idea that newcomers to Australia might fall on the surplus rather than the deficit side of the ledger when it comes to identifying and harnessing resilience capital. A brief example of this trend is explored here. From 2006 to 2010, the Australian Emergency Management Institute embarked on an ambitious government-funded four-year program devoted to strengthening community resilience in relation to disasters with specific reference to engaging CALD communities across Australia. The program, Inclusive Emergency Management with CALD Communities, was part of a wider Australian National Action Plan to Build Social Cohesion, Harmony and Security in the wake of the London terrorist bombings in July 2005. Involving CALD community organisations as well as various emergency and disaster management agencies, the program ran various workshops and agency-community partnership pilots, developed national school education resources, and commissioned an evaluation of the program’s effectiveness (Farrow et al.). While my critique here is certainly not aimed at emergency management or disaster response agencies and personnel themselves – dedicated professionals who often achieve remarkable results in emergency and disaster response under extraordinarily difficult circumstances – it is nevertheless important to highlight how the assumptions underlying elements of AEMI’s experience and outcomes reflect the persistent ways in which ethnocultural diversity is rendered as a problem to be surmounted or a liability to be redressed, rather than as an asset to be built upon or a resource to be valued and mobilised. AEMI’s explicit effort to engage with CALD communities in building overall community resilience was important in its tacit acknowledgement that emergency and disaster services were (and often remain) under-resourced and under-prepared in dealing with the complexities of cultural diversity in emergency situations. Despite these good intentions, however, while the program produced some positive outcomes and contributed to crucial relationship building between CALD communities and emergency services within various jurisdictions, it also continued to frame the challenge of working with cultural diversity as a problem of increased vulnerability during disasters for recently arrived and refugee background CALD individuals and communities. This highlights a common feature in community resilience-building initiatives, which is to focus on those who are already ‘robust’ versus those who are ‘vulnerable’ in relation to resilience indicators, and whose needs may require different or additional resources in order to be met. At one level, this is a pragmatic resourcing issue: national agencies understandably want to put their people, energy and dollars where they are most needed in pursuit of a steady-state unified national response at times of crisis. Nor should it be argued that at least some CALD groups, particularly those from new arrival and refugee communities, are not vulnerable in at least some of the ways and for some of the reasons suggested in the program evaluation. However, the consistent focus on CALD communities as ‘vulnerable’ and ‘in need’ is problematic, as well as partial. It casts members of these communities as structurally and inherently less able and less resilient in the context of disasters and emergencies: in some sense, as those who, already ‘victims’ of chronic social deficits such as low English proficiency, social isolation and a mysterious unidentified set of ‘cultural factors’, can become doubly victimised in acute crisis and disaster scenarios. In what is by now a familiar trope, the description of CALD communities as ‘vulnerable’ precludes asking questions about what they do have, what they do know, and what they do or can contribute to how we respond to disaster and emergency events in our communities. A more profound problem in this sphere revolves around working out how best to engage CALD communities and individuals within existing approaches to disaster and emergency preparedness and response. This reflects a fundamental but unavoidable limitation of disaster preparedness models: they are innately spatially and geographically bounded, and consequently understand ‘communities’ in these terms, rather than expanding definitions of ‘community’ to include the dimensions of community-as-social-relations. While some good engagement outcomes were achieved locally around cross-cultural knowledge for emergency services workers, the AEMI program fell short of asking some of the harder questions about how emergency and disaster service scaffolding and resilience-building approaches might themselves need to change or transform, using a cross-cutting model of ‘communities’ as both geographic places and multicultural spaces (Bartowiak-Théron and Crehan) in order to be more effective in national scenarios in which cultural diversity should be taken for granted. Toward Acknowledgement of Resilience Capital Most significantly, the AEMI program did not produce any recognition of the ways in which CALD communities already possess resilience capital, or consider how this might be drawn on in formulating stronger community initiatives around disaster and threats preparedness for the future. Of course, not all individuals within such communities, nor all communities across varying circumstances, will demonstrate resilience, and we need to be careful of either overgeneralising or romanticising the kinds and degrees of ‘resilience capital’ that may exist within them. Nevertheless, at least some have developed ways of withstanding crises and adapting to new conditions of living. This is particularly so in connection with individual and group behaviours around resource sharing, care-giving and social responsibility under adverse circumstances (Grossman and Tahiri) – all of which are directly relevant to emergency and disaster response. While some of these resilient behaviours may have been nurtured or enhanced by particular experiences and environments, they can, as the discussion of recent literature above suggests, also be rooted more deeply in cultural norms, habits and beliefs. Whatever their origins, for culturally diverse societies to achieve genuine resilience in the face of both natural and human-made disasters, it is critical to call on the ‘social memory’ (Folke et al.) of communities faced with responding to emergencies and crises. Such wellsprings of social memory ‘come from the diversity of individuals and institutions that draw on reservoirs of practices, knowledge, values, and worldviews and is crucial for preparing the system for change, building resilience, and for coping with surprise’ (Adger et al.). Consequently, if we accept the challenge of mapping an approach to cultural diversity as resource rather than relic into our thinking around strengthening community resilience, there are significant gains to be made. For a whole range of reasons, no diversity-sensitive model or measure of resilience should invest in static understandings of ethnicities and cultures; all around the world, ethnocultural identities and communities are in a constant and sometimes accelerated state of dynamism, reconfiguration and flux. But to ignore the resilience capital and potential protective factors that ethnocultural diversity can offer to the strengthening of community resilience more broadly is to miss important opportunities that can help suture the existing disconnects between proactive approaches to intercultural connectedness and social inclusion on the one hand, and reactive approaches to threats, national security and disaster response on the other, undermining the effort to advance effectively on either front. This means that dominant social institutions and structures must be willing to contemplate their own transformation as the result of transcultural engagement, rather than merely insisting, as is often the case, that ‘other’ cultures and communities conform to existing hegemonic paradigms of being and of living. In many ways, this is the most critical step of all. A resilience model and strategy that questions its own culturally informed yet taken-for-granted assumptions and premises, goes out into communities to test and refine these, and returns to redesign its approach based on the new knowledge it acquires, would reflect genuine progress toward an effective transculturational approach to community resilience in culturally diverse contexts.References Adger, W. Neil, Terry P. Hughes, Carl Folke, Stephen R. Carpenter and Johan Rockström. “Social-Ecological Resilience to Coastal Disasters.” Science 309.5737 (2005): 1036-1039. ‹http://www.sciencemag.org/content/309/5737/1036.full> Bartowiak-Théron, Isabelle, and Anna Corbo Crehan. “The Changing Nature of Communities: Implications for Police and Community Policing.” Community Policing in Australia: Australian Institute of Criminology (AIC) Reports, Research and Policy Series 111 (2010): 8-15. Benessaieh, Afef. “Multiculturalism, Interculturality, Transculturality.” Ed. A. Benessaieh. Transcultural Americas/Ameriques Transculturelles. Ottawa: U of Ottawa Press/Les Presses de l’Unversite d’Ottawa, 2010. 11-38. Clauss-Ehlers, Caroline S. “Sociocultural Factors, Resilience and Coping: Support for a Culturally Sensitive Measure of Resilience.” Journal of Applied Developmental Psychology 29 (2008): 197-212. Clauss-Ehlers, Caroline S. “Cultural Resilience.” Encyclopedia of Cross-Cultural School Psychology. Ed. C. S. Clauss-Ehlers. New York: Springer, 2010. 324-326. Farrow, David, Anthea Rutter and Rosalind Hurworth. Evaluation of the Inclusive Emergency Management with Culturally and Linguistically Diverse (CALD) Communities Program. Parkville, Vic.: Centre for Program Evaluation, U of Melbourne, July 2009. ‹http://www.ag.gov.au/www/emaweb/rwpattach.nsf/VAP/(9A5D88DBA63D32A661E6369859739356)~Final+Evaluation+Report+-+July+2009.pdf/$file/Final+Evaluation+Report+-+July+2009.pdf>.Folke, Carl, Thomas Hahn, Per Olsson, and Jon Norberg. “Adaptive Governance of Social-Ecological Systems.” Annual Review of Environment and Resources 30 (2005): 441-73. ‹http://arjournals.annualreviews.org/doi/pdf/10.1146/annurev.energy.30.050504.144511>. Garmezy, Norman. “The Study of Competence in Children at Risk for Severe Psychopathology.” The Child in His Family: Children at Psychiatric Risk. Vol. 3. Eds. E. J. Anthony and C. Koupernick. New York: Wiley, 1974. 77-97. Grossman, Michele. “Resilient Multiculturalism? Diversifying Australian Approaches to Community Resilience and Cultural Difference”. Global Perspectives on Multiculturalism in the 21st Century. Eds. B. E. de B’beri and F. Mansouri. London: Routledge, 2014. Grossman, Michele, and Hussein Tahiri. Harnessing Resilience Capital in Culturally Diverse Communities to Counter Violent Extremism. Canberra: Australia-New Zealand Counter-Terrorism Committee, forthcoming 2014. Grossman, Michele. “Cultural Resilience and Strengthening Communities”. Safeguarding Australia Summit, Canberra. 23 Sep. 2010. ‹http://www.safeguardingaustraliasummit.org.au/uploader/resources/Michele_Grossman.pdf>. Gunnestad, Arve. “Resilience in a Cross-Cultural Perspective: How Resilience Is Generated in Different Cultures.” Journal of Intercultural Communication 11 (2006). ‹http://www.immi.se/intercultural/nr11/gunnestad.htm>. Hajek, Lisa J. “Belonging and Resilience: A Phenomenological Study.” Unpublished Master of Science thesis, U of Wisconsin-Stout. Menomonie, Wisconsin, 2003. Hunter, Cathryn. “Is Resilience Still a Useful Concept When Working with Children and Young People?” Child Family Community Australia (CFA) Paper 2. Melbourne: Australian Institute of Family Studies, 2012.Joppke, Christian. "Beyond National Models: Civic Integration Policies for Immigrants in Western Europe". West European Politics 30.1 (2007): 1-22. Liebenberg, Linda, Michael Ungar, and Fons van de Vijver. “Validation of the Child and Youth Resilience Measure-28 (CYRM-28) among Canadian Youth.” Research on Social Work Practice 22.2 (2012): 219-226. Longstaff, Patricia H., Nicholas J. Armstrong, Keli Perrin, Whitney May Parker, and Matthew A. Hidek. “Building Resilient Communities: A Preliminary Framework for Assessment.” Homeland Security Affairs 6.3 (2010): 1-23. ‹http://www.hsaj.org/?fullarticle=6.3.6>. McGhee, Derek. The End of Multiculturalism? Terrorism, Integration and Human Rights. Maidenhead: Open U P, 2008.Mignolo, Walter. Local Histories/Global Designs: Coloniality, Subaltern Knowledges, and Border Thinking. Princeton: Princeton U P, 2000. Mohaupt, Sarah. “Review Article: Resilience and Social Exclusion.” Social Policy and Society 8 (2009): 63-71.Mouritsen, Per. "The Culture of Citizenship: A Reflection on Civic Integration in Europe." Ed. R. Zapata-Barrero. Citizenship Policies in the Age of Diversity: Europe at the Crossroad." Barcelona: CIDOB Foundation, 2009: 23-35. Mouritsen, Per. “Political Responses to Cultural Conflict: Reflections on the Ambiguities of the Civic Turn.” Ed. P. Mouritsen and K.E. Jørgensen. Constituting Communities. Political Solutions to Cultural Conflict, London: Palgrave, 2008. 1-30. Ortiz, Fernando. Cuban Counterpoint: Tobacco and Sugar. Trans. Harriet de Onís. Intr. Fernando Coronil and Bronislaw Malinowski. Durham, NC: Duke U P, 1995 [1940]. Robins, Kevin. The Challenge of Transcultural Diversities: Final Report on the Transversal Study on Cultural Policy and Cultural Diversity. Culture and Cultural Heritage Department. Strasbourg: Council of European Publishing, 2006. Rutter, Michael. “Protective Factors in Children’s Responses to Stress and Disadvantage.” Annals of the Academy of Medicine, Singapore 8 (1979): 324-38. Stein, Mark. “The Location of Transculture.” Transcultural English Studies: Fictions, Theories, Realities. Eds. F. Schulze-Engler and S. Helff. Cross/Cultures 102/ANSEL Papers 12. Amsterdam and New York: Rodopi, 2009. 251-266. Ungar, Michael. “Resilience across Cultures.” British Journal of Social Work 38.2 (2008): 218-235. First published online 2006: 1-18. In-text references refer to the online Advance Access edition ‹http://bjsw.oxfordjournals.org/content/early/2006/10/18/bjsw.bcl343.full.pdf>. VanBreda, Adrian DuPlessis. Resilience Theory: A Literature Review. Erasmuskloof: South African Military Health Service, Military Psychological Institute, Social Work Research & Development, 2001. Weine, Stevan. “Building Resilience to Violent Extremism in Muslim Diaspora Communities in the United States.” Dynamics of Asymmetric Conflict 5.1 (2012): 60-73. Welsch, Wolfgang. “Transculturality: The Puzzling Form of Cultures Today.” Spaces of Culture: City, Nation World. Eds. M. Featherstone and S. Lash. London: Sage, 1999. 194-213. Werner, Emmy E., and Ruth S. Smith. Vulnerable But Invincible: A Longitudinal Study of\ Resilience and Youth. New York: McGraw Hill, 1982. NotesThe concept of ‘resilience capital’ I offer here is in line with one strand of contemporary theorising around resilience – that of resilience as social or socio-ecological capital – but moves beyond the idea of enhancing general social connectedness and community cohesion by emphasising the ways in which culturally diverse communities may already be robustly networked and resourceful within micro-communal settings, with new resources and knowledge both to draw on and to offer other communities or the ‘national community’ at large. In effect, ‘resilience capital’ speaks to the importance of finding ‘the communities within the community’ (Bartowiak-Théron and Crehan 11) and recognising their capacity to contribute to broad-scale resilience and recovery.I am indebted for the discussion of the literature on resilience here to Dr Peta Stephenson, Centre for Cultural Diversity and Wellbeing, Victoria University, who is working on a related project (M. Grossman and H. Tahiri, Harnessing Resilience Capital in Culturally Diverse Communities to Counter Violent Extremism, forthcoming 2014).

Introduction Since December 2010 the dramatic spectacle of the spread of mass uprisings, civil unrest, and protest across North Africa and the Middle East have been chronicled daily on mainstream media and new media. Broadly speaking, the Arab Spring—as it came to be known—is challenging repressive, corrupt governments and calling for democracy and human rights. The convulsive events linked with these debates have been striking not only because of the rapid spread of historically momentous mass protests but also because of the ways in which the media “have become inextricably infused inside them” enabling the global media ecology to perform “an integral part in building and mobilizing support, co-ordinating and defining the protests within different Arab societies as well as trans-nationalizing them” (Cottle 295). Images of mass protests have been juxtaposed against those of individuals prepared to self-destruct for political ends. Video clips and photographs of the individual suffering of Tunisian Mohamed Bouazizi’s self-immolation and the Bahraini Abdulhad al-Khawaja’s emaciated body foreground, in very graphic ways, political struggles that larger events would mask or render invisible. Highlighting broad commonalties does not assume uniformity in patterns of protest and media coverage across the region. There has been considerable variation in the global media coverage and nature of the protests in North Africa and the Middle East (Cottle). In Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, and Yemen uprisings overthrew regimes and leaders. In Syria it has led the country to the brink of civil war. In Bahrain, the regime and its militia violently suppressed peaceful protests. As a wave of protests spread across the Middle East and one government after another toppled in front of 24/7 global media coverage, Bahrain became the “Arab revolution that was abandoned by the Arabs, forsaken by the West … forgotten by the world,” and largely ignored by the global media (Al-Jazeera English). Per capita the protests have been among the largest of the Arab Spring (Human Rights First) and the crackdown as brutal as elsewhere. International organizations have condemned the use of military courts to trial protestors, the detaining of medical staff who had treated the injured, and the use of torture, including the torture of children (Fisher). Bahraini and international human rights organizations have been systematically chronicling these violations of human rights, and posting on Websites distressing images of tortured bodies often with warnings about the graphic depictions viewers are about to see. It was in this context of brutal suppression, global media silence, and the reluctance of the international community to intervene, that the Bahraini-Danish human rights activist Abdulhad al-Khawaja launched his “death or freedom” hunger strike. Even this radical action initially failed to interest international editors who were more focused on Egypt, Libya, and Syria, but media attention rose in response to the Bahrain Formula 1 race in April 2012. Pro-democracy activists pledged “days of rage” to coincide with the race in order to highlight continuing human rights abuses in the kingdom (Turner). As Al Khawaja’s health deteriorated the Bahraini government resisted calls for his release (Article 19) from the Danish government who requested that Al Khawaja be extradited there on “humanitarian grounds” for hospital treatment (Fisk). This article does not explore the geo-politics of the Bahraini struggle or the possible reasons why the international community—in contrast to Syria and Egypt—has been largely silent and reluctant to debate the issues. Important as they are, those remain questions for Middle Eastern specialists to address. In this article I am concerned with the overlapping and interpenetration of two ecologies. The first ecology is the ethical framing of a prison hunger strike as a corporeal-environmental act of (self) destruction intended to achieve political ends. The second ecology is the operation of global media where international inaction inadvertently foregrounds the political struggles that larger events and discourses surrounding Egypt, Libya, and Syria overshadow. What connects these two ecologies is the body of the hunger striker, turned into a spectacle and mediated via a politics of affect that invites a global public to empathise and so enter into his suffering. The connection between the two lies in the emaciated body of the hunger striker. An Ecological Humanities Approach This exploration of two ecologies draws on the ecological humanities and its central premise of connectivity. The ecological humanities critique the traditional binaries in Western thinking between nature and culture; the political and social; them and us; the collective and the individual; mind, body and emotion (Rose & Robin, Rieber). Such binaries create artificial hierarchies, divisions, and conflicts that ultimately impede the ability to respond to crises. Crises are major changes that are “out of control” driven—primarily but not exclusively—by social, political, and cultural forces that unleash “runaway systems with their own dynamics” (Rose & Robin 1). The ecological humanities response to crises is premised on the recognition of the all-inclusive connectivity of organisms, systems, and environments and an ethical commitment to action from within this entanglement. A founding premise of connectivity, first articulated by anthropologist and philosopher Gregory Bateson, is that the “unit of survival is not the individual or the species, but the organism-and-its-environment” (Rose & Robin 2). This highlights a dialectic in which an organism is shaped by and shapes the context in which it finds itself. Or, as Harries-Jones puts it, relations are recursive as “events continually enter into, become entangled with, and then re-enter the universe they describe” (3). This ensures constantly evolving ecosystems but it also means any organism that “deteriorates its environment commits suicide” (Rose & Robin 2) with implications for the others in the eco-system. Bateson’s central premise is that organisms are simultaneously independent, as separate beings, but also interdependent. Interactions are not seen purely as exchanges but as dynamic, dialectical, dialogical, and mutually constitutive. Thus, it is presumed that the destruction or protection of others has consequences for oneself. Another dimension of interactions is multi-modality, which implies that human communication cannot be reduced to a single mode such as words, actions, or images but needs to be understood in the complexity of inter-relations between these (see Rieber 16). Nor can dissemination be reduced to a single technological platform whether this is print, television, Internet, or other media (see Cottle). The final point is that interactions are “biologically grounded but not determined” in that the “cognitive, emotional and volitional processes” underpinning face-to-face or mediated communication are “essentially indivisible” and any attempt to separate them by privileging emotion at the expense of thought, or vice versa, is likely to be unhealthy (Rieber 17). This is most graphically demonstrated in a politically-motivated hunger strike where emotion and volition over-rides the survivalist instinct. The Ecology of a Prison Hunger Strike The radical nature of a hunger strike inevitably gives rise to medico-ethical debates. Hunger strikes entail the voluntary refusal of sustenance by an individual and, when prolonged, such deprivation sets off a chain reaction as the less important components in the internal body systems shut down to protect the brain until even that can no longer be protected (see Basoglu et al). This extreme form of protest—essentially an act of self-destruction—raises ethical issues over whether or not doctors or the state should intervene to save a life for humanitarian or political reasons. In 1975 and 1991, the World Medical Association (WMA) sought to negotiate this by distinguishing between, on the one hand, the mentally/psychological impaired individual who chooses a “voluntary fast” and, on the other hand, the hunger striker who chooses a form of protest action to secure an explicit political goal fully aware of fatal consequences of prolonged action (see Annas, Reyes). This binary enables the WMA to label the action of the mentally impaired suicide while claiming that to do so for political protesters would be a “misconception” because the “striker … does not want to die” but to “live better” by obtaining certain political goals for himself, his group or his country. “If necessary he is willing to sacrifice his life for his case, but the aim is certainly not suicide” (Reyes 11). In practice, the boundaries between suicide and political protest are likely to be much more blurred than this but the medico-ethical binary is important because it informs discourses about what form of intervention is ethically appropriate. In the case of the “suicidal” the WMA legitimises force-feeding by a doctor as a life-saving act. In the case of the political protestor, it is de-legitimised in discourses of an infringement of freedom of expression and an act of torture because of the pain involved (see Annas, Reyes). Philosopher Michel Foucault argued that prison is a key site where the embodied subject is explicitly governed and where the exercising of state power in the act of incarceration means the body of the imprisoned no longer solely belongs to the individual. It is also where the “body’s range of significations” is curtailed, “shaped and invested by the very forces that detain and imprison it” (Pugliese 2). Thus, prison creates the circumstances in which the incarcerated is denied the “usual forms of protest and judicial safeguards” available outside its confines. The consequence is that when presented with conditions that violate core beliefs he/she may view acts of self-destruction—such as hunger strikes or lip sewing—as one of the few “means of protesting against, or demanding attention” or achieving political ends still available to them (Reyes 11; Pugliese). The hunger strike implicates the state, which, in the act of imprisoning, has assumed a measure of power and responsibility for the body of the individual. If a protest action is labelled suicidal by medical professionals—for instance at Guantanamo—then the force-feeding of prisoners can be legitimised within the WMA guidelines (Annas). There is considerable political temptation to do so particularly when the hunger striker has become an icon of resistance to the state, the knowledge of his/her action has transcended prison confines, and the alienating conditions that prompted the action are being widely debated in the media. This poses a two-fold danger for the state. On the one hand, there is the possibility that the slow emaciation and death while imprisoned, if covered by the media, may become a spectacle able to mobilise further resistance that can destabilise the polity. On the other hand, there is the fear that in the act of dying, and the spectacle surrounding death, the hunger striker would have secured the public attention to the very cause they are championing. Central to this is whether or not the act of self-destruction is mediated. It is far from inevitable that the media will cover a hunger strike or do so in ways that enable the hunger striker’s appeal to the emotions of others. However, when it does, the international scrutiny and condemnation that follows may undermine the credibility of the state—as happened with the death of the IRA member Bobby Sands in Northern Ireland (Russell). The Media Ecology and the Bahrain Arab Spring The IRA’s use of an “ancient tactic ... to make a blunt appeal to sympathy and emotion” in the form of the Sands hunger strike was seen as “spectacularly successful in gaining worldwide publicity” (Willis 1). Media ecology has evolved dramatically since then. Over the past 20 years communication flows between the local and the global, traditional media formations (broadcast and print), and new communication media (Internet and mobile phones) have escalated. The interactions of the traditional media have historically shaped and been shaped by more “top-down” “politics of representation” in which the primary relationship is between journalists and competing public relations professionals servicing rival politicians, business or NGOs desire for media attention and framing issues in a way that is favourable or sympathetic to their cause. However, rapidly evolving new media platforms offer bottom up, user-generated content, a politics of connectivity, and mobilization of ordinary people (Cottle 31). However, this distinction has increasingly been seen as offering too rigid a binary to capture the complexity of the interactions between traditional and new media as well as the events they capture. The evolution of both meant their content increasingly overlaps and interpenetrates (see Bennett). New media technologies “add new communicative ingredients into the media ecology mix” (Cottle 31) as well as new forms of political protests and new ways of mobilizing dispersed networks of activists (Juris). Despite their pervasiveness, new media technologies are “unlikely to displace the necessity for coverage in mainstream media”; a feature noted by activist groups who have evolved their own “carnivalesque” tactics (Cottle 32) capable of creating the spectacle that meets television demands for action-driven visuals (Juris). New media provide these groups with the tools to publicise their actions pre- and post-event thereby increasing the possibility that mainstream media might cover their protests. However there is no guarantee that traditional and new media content will overlap and interpenetrate as initial coverage of the Bahrain Arab Spring highlights. Peaceful protests began in February 2011 but were violently quelled often by Saudi, Qatari and UAE militia on behalf of the Bahraini government. Mass arrests were made including that of children and medical personnel who had treated those wounded during the suppression of the protests. What followed were a long series of detentions without trial, military court rulings on civilians, and frequent use of torture in prisons (Human Rights Watch 2012). By the end of 2011, the country had the highest number of political prisoners per capita of any country in the world (Amiri) but received little coverage in the US. The Libyan uprising was afforded the most broadcast time (700 minutes) followed by Egypt (500 minutes), Syria (143), and Bahrain (34) (Lobe). Year-end round-ups of the Arab Spring on the American Broadcasting Corporation ignored Bahrain altogether or mentioned it once in a 21-page feature (Cavell). This was not due to a lack of information because a steady stream has flowed from mobile phones, Internet sites and Twitter as NGOs—Bahraini and international—chronicled in images and first-hand accounts the abuses. However, little of this coverage was picked up by the US-dominated global media. It was in this context that the Bahraini-Danish human rights activist Abdulhad Al Khawaja launched his “freedom or death” hunger strike in protest against the violent suppression of peaceful demonstrations, the treatment of prisoners, and the conduct of the trials. Even this radical action failed to persuade international editors to cover the Bahrain Arab Spring or Al Khawaja’s deteriorating health despite being “one of the most important stories to emerge over the Arab Spring” (Nallu). This began to change in April 2012 as a number of things converged. Formula 1 pressed ahead with the Bahrain Grand Prix, and pro-democracy activists pledged “days of rage” over human rights abuses. As these were violently suppressed, editors on global news desks increasingly questioned the government and Formula 1 “spin” that all was well in the kingdom (see BBC; Turner). Claims by the drivers—many of who were sponsored by the Bahraini government—that this was a sports event, not a political one, were met with derision and journalists more familiar with interviewing superstars were diverted into covering protests because their political counterparts had been denied entry to the country (Fisk). This combination of media events and responses created the attention, interest, and space in which Al Khawaja’s deteriorating condition could become a media spectacle. The Mediated Spectacle of Al Khawaja’s Hunger Strike Journalists who had previously struggled to interest editors in Bahrain and Al Khawaja’s plight found that in the weeks leading up to the Grand Prix and since “his condition rapidly deteriorated”’ and there were “daily updates with stories from CNN to the Hindustan Times” (Nulla). Much of this mainstream news was derived from interviews and tweets from Al Khawaja’s family after each visit or phone call. What emerged was an unprecedented composite—a diary of witnesses to a hunger strike interspersed with the family’s struggles with the authorities to get access to him and their almost tangible fear that the Bahraini government would not relent and he would die. As these fears intensified 48 human rights NGOs called for his release from prison (Article 19) and the Danish government formally requested his extradition for hospital treatment on “humanitarian grounds”. Both were rejected. As if to provide evidence of Al Khawaja’s tenuous hold on life, his family released an image of his emaciated body onto Twitter. This graphic depiction of the corporeal-environmental act of (self) destruction was re-tweeted and posted on countless NGO and news Websites (see Al-Jazeera). It was also juxtaposed against images of multi-million dollar cars circling a race-track, funded by similarly large advertising deals and watched by millions of people around the world on satellite channels. Spectator sport had become a grotesque parody of one man’s struggle to speak of what was going on in Bahrain. In an attempt to silence the criticism the Bahraini government imposed a de facto news blackout denying all access to Al Khawaja in hospital where he had been sent after collapsing. The family’s tweets while he was held incommunicado speak of their raw pain, their desperation to find out if he was still alive, and their grief. They also provided a new source of information, and the refrain “where is alkhawaja,” reverberated on Twitter and in global news outlets (see for instance Der Spiegel, Al-Jazeera). In the days immediately after the race the Danish prime minister called for the release of Al Khawaja, saying he is in a “very critical condition” (Guardian), as did the UN’s Ban-Ki Moon (UN News and Media). The silencing of Al Khawaja had become a discourse of callousness and as global media pressure built Bahraini ministers felt compelled to challenge this on non-Arabic media, claiming Al Khawaja was “eating” and “well”. The Bahraini Prime Minister gave one of his first interviews to the Western media in years in which he denied “AlKhawaja’s health is ‘as bad’ as you say. According to the doctors attending to him on a daily basis, he takes liquids” (Der Spiegel Online). Then, after six days of silence, the family was allowed to visit. They tweeted that while incommunicado he had been restrained and force-fed against his will (Almousawi), a statement almost immediately denied by the military hospital (Lebanon Now). The discourses of silence and callousness were replaced with discourses of “torture” through force-feeding. A month later Al Khawaja’s wife announced he was ending his hunger strike because he was being force-fed by two doctors at the prison, family and friends had urged him to eat again, and he felt the strike had achieved its goal of drawing the world’s attention to Bahrain government’s response to pro-democracy protests (Ahlul Bayt News Agency). Conclusion This article has sought to explore two ecologies. The first is of medico-ethical discourses which construct a prison hunger strike as a corporeal-environmental act of (self) destruction to achieve particular political ends. The second is of shifting engagement within media ecology and the struggle to facilitate interpenetration of content and discourses between mainstream news formations and new media flows of information. I have argued that what connects the two is the body of the hunger striker turned into a spectacle, mediated via a politics of affect which invites empathy and anger to mobilise behind the cause of the hunger striker. The body of the hunger striker is thereby (re)produced as a feature of the twin ecologies of the media environment and the self-environment relationship. References Ahlul Bayt News Agency. “Bahrain: Abdulhadi Alkhawaja’s Statement about Ending his Hunger Strike.” (29 May 2012). 1 June 2012 ‹http://abna.ir/data.asp?lang=3&id=318439›. Al-Akhbar. “Family Concerned Al-Khawaja May Be Being Force Fed.” Al-Akhbar English. (27 April 2012). 1 June 2012 ‹http://english.al-akhbar.com/content/family-concerned-al-khawaja-may-be-being-force-fed›. 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Introduction I am a transmigrant who has moved back and forth between the West and the Rest. I was born and raised in a Muslim family in a predominantly Muslim country, Bangladesh, but I spent several years of my childhood in Pakistan. After my marriage, I lived in the United States for a year and a half, the Middle East for 5 years, Australia for three years, back to the Middle East for another 5 years, then, finally, in Australia for the last 12 years. I speak Bengali (my mother tongue), Urdu (which I learnt in Pakistan), a bit of Arabic (learnt in the Middle East); but English has always been my medium of instruction. So where is home? Is it my place of origin, the Muslim umma, or my land of settlement? Or is it my ‘root’ or my ‘route’ (Blunt and Dowling)? Blunt and Dowling (199) observe that the lives of transmigrants are often interpreted in terms of their ‘roots’ and ‘routes’, which are two frameworks for thinking about home, homeland and diaspora. Whereas ‘roots’ might imply an original homeland from which people have scattered, and to which they might seek to return, ‘routes’ focuses on mobile, multiple and transcultural geographies of home. However, both ‘roots’ and ‘routes’ are attached to emotion and identity, and both invoke a sense of place, belonging or alienation that is intrinsically tied to a sense of self (Blunt and Dowling 196-219). In this paper, I equate home with my root (place of birth) and route (transnational homing) within the context of the ‘diaspora and belonging’. First I define the diaspora and possible criteria of belonging. Next I describe my transnational homing within the framework of diaspora and belonging. Finally, I consider how Australia can be a ‘home’ for me and other Muslim Australians. The Diaspora and Belonging Blunt and Dowling (199) define diaspora as “scattering of people over space and transnational connections between people and the places”. Cohen emphasised the ethno-cultural aspects of the diaspora setting; that is, how migrants identify and position themselves in other nations in terms of their (different) ethnic and cultural orientation. Hall argues that the diasporic subjects form a cultural identity through transformation and difference. Speaking of the Hindu diaspora in the UK and Caribbean, Vertovec (21-23) contends that the migrants’ contact with their original ‘home’ or diaspora depends on four factors: migration processes and factors of settlement, cultural composition, structural and political power, and community development. With regard to the first factor, migration processes and factors of settlement, Vertovec explains that if the migrants are political or economic refugees, or on a temporary visa, they are likely to live in a ‘myth of return’. In the cultural composition context, Vertovec argues that religion, language, region of origin, caste, and degree of cultural homogenisation are factors in which migrants are bound to their homeland. Concerning the social structure and political power issue, Vertovec suggests that the extent and nature of racial and ethnic pluralism or social stigma, class composition, degree of institutionalised racism, involvement in party politics (or active citizenship) determine migrants’ connection to their new or old home. Finally, community development, including membership in organisations (political, union, religious, cultural, leisure), leadership qualities, and ethnic convergence or conflict (trends towards intra-communal or inter-ethnic/inter-religious co-operation) would also affect the migrants’ sense of belonging. Using these scholarly ideas as triggers, I will examine my home and belonging over the last few decades. My Home In an initial stage of my transmigrant history, my home was my root (place of birth, Dhaka, Bangladesh). Subsequently, my routes (settlement in different countries) reshaped my homes. In all respects, the ethno-cultural factors have played a big part in my definition of ‘home’. But on some occasions my ethnic identification has been overridden by my religious identification and vice versa. By ethnic identity, I mean my language (mother tongue) and my connection to my people (Bangladeshi). By my religious identity, I mean my Muslim religion, and my spiritual connection to the umma, a Muslim nation transcending all boundaries. Umma refers to the Muslim identity and unity within a larger Muslim group across national boundaries. The only thing the members of the umma have in common is their Islamic belief (Spencer and Wollman 169-170). In my childhood my father, a banker, was relocated to Karachi, Pakistan (then West Pakistan). Although I lived in Pakistan for much of my childhood, I have never considered it to be my home, even though it is predominantly a Muslim country. In this case, my home was my root (Bangladesh) where my grandparents and extended family lived. Every year I used to visit my grandparents who resided in a small town in Bangladesh (then East Pakistan). Thus my connection with my home was sustained through my extended family, ethnic traditions, language (Bengali/Bangla), and the occasional visits to the landscape of Bangladesh. Smith (9-11) notes that people build their connection or identity to their homeland through their historic land, common historical memories, myths, symbols and traditions. Though Pakistan and Bangladesh had common histories, their traditions of language, dress and ethnic culture were very different. For example, the celebration of the Bengali New Year (Pohela Baishakh), folk dance, folk music and folk tales, drama, poetry, lyrics of poets Rabindranath Tagore (Rabindra Sangeet) and Nazrul Islam (Nazrul Geeti) are distinct in the cultural heritage of Bangladesh. Special musical instruments such as the banshi (a bamboo flute), dhol (drums), ektara (a single-stringed instrument) and dotara (a four-stringed instrument) are unique to Bangladeshi culture. The Bangladeshi cuisine (rice and freshwater fish) is also different from Pakistan where people mainly eat flat round bread (roti) and meat (gosh). However, my bonding factor to Bangladesh was my relatives, particularly my grandparents as they made me feel one of ‘us’. Their affection for me was irreplaceable. The train journey from Dhaka (capital city) to their town, Noakhali, was captivating. The hustle and bustle at the train station and the lush green paddy fields along the train journey reminded me that this was my ‘home’. Though I spoke the official language (Urdu) in Pakistan and had a few Pakistani friends in Karachi, they could never replace my feelings for my friends, extended relatives and cousins who lived in Bangladesh. I could not relate to the landscape or dry weather of Pakistan. More importantly, some Pakistani women (our neighbours) were critical of my mother’s traditional dress (saree), and described it as revealing because it showed a bit of her back. They took pride in their traditional dress (shalwar, kameez, dopatta), which they considered to be more covered and ‘Islamic’. So, because of our traditional dress (saree) and perhaps other differences, we were regarded as the ‘Other’. In 1970 my father was relocated back to Dhaka, Bangladesh, and I was glad to go home. It should be noted that both Pakistan and Bangladesh were separated from India in 1947 – first as one nation; then, in 1971, Bangladesh became independent from Pakistan. The conflict between Bangladesh (then East Pakistan) and Pakistan (then West Pakistan) originated for economic and political reasons. At this time I was a high school student and witnessed acts of genocide committed by the Pakistani regime against the Bangladeshis (March-December 1971). My memories of these acts are vivid and still very painful. After my marriage, I moved from Bangladesh to the United States. In this instance, my new route (Austin, Texas, USA), as it happened, did not become my home. Here the ethno-cultural and Islamic cultural factors took precedence. I spoke the English language, made some American friends, and studied history at the University of Texas. I appreciated the warm friendship extended to me in the US, but experienced a degree of culture shock. I did not appreciate the pub life, alcohol consumption, and what I perceived to be the lack of family bonds (children moving out at the age of 18, families only meeting occasionally on birthdays and Christmas). Furthermore, I could not relate to de facto relationships and acceptance of sex before marriage. However, to me ‘home’ meant a family orientation and living in close contact with family. Besides the cultural divide, my husband and I were living in the US on student visas and, as Vertovec (21-23) noted, temporary visa status can deter people from their sense of belonging to the host country. In retrospect I can see that we lived in the ‘myth of return’. However, our next move for a better life was not to our root (Bangladesh), but another route to the Muslim world of Dhahran in Saudi Arabia. My husband moved to Dhahran not because it was a Muslim world but because it gave him better economic opportunities. However, I thought this new destination would become my home – the home that was coined by Anderson as the imagined nation, or my Muslim umma. Anderson argues that the imagined communities are “to be distinguished, not by their falsity/genuineness, but by the style in which they are imagined” (6; Wood 61). Hall (122) asserts: identity is actually formed through unconscious processes over time, rather than being innate in consciousness at birth. There is always something ‘imaginary’ or fantasized about its unity. It always remains incomplete, is always ‘in process’, always ‘being formed’. As discussed above, when I had returned home to Bangladesh from Pakistan – both Muslim countries – my primary connection to my home country was my ethnic identity, language and traditions. My ethnic identity overshadowed the religious identity. But when I moved to Saudi Arabia, where my ethnic identity differed from that of the mainstream Arabs and Bedouin/nomadic Arabs, my connection to this new land was through my Islamic cultural and religious identity. Admittedly, this connection to the umma was more psychological than physical, but I was now in close proximity to Mecca, and to my home of Dhaka, Bangladesh. Mecca is an important city in Saudi Arabia for Muslims because it is the holy city of Islam, the home to the Ka’aba (the religious centre of Islam), and the birthplace of Prophet Muhammad [Peace Be Upon Him]. It is also the destination of the Hajj, one of the five pillars of Islamic faith. Therefore, Mecca is home to significant events in Islamic history, as well as being an important present day centre for the Islamic faith. We lived in Dhahran, Saudi Arabia for 5 years. Though it was a 2.5 hours flight away, I treasured Mecca’s proximity and regarded Dhahran as my second and spiritual home. Saudi Arabia had a restricted lifestyle for women, but I liked it because it was a Muslim country that gave me the opportunity to perform umrah Hajj (pilgrimage). However, Saudi Arabia did not allow citizenship to expatriates. Saudi Arabia’s government was keen to protect the status quo and did not want to compromise its cultural values or standard of living by allowing foreigners to become a permanent part of society. In exceptional circumstances only, the King granted citizenship to a foreigner for outstanding service to the state over a number of years. Children of foreigners born in Saudi Arabia did not have rights of local citizenship; they automatically assumed the nationality of their parents. If it was available, Saudi citizenship would assure expatriates a secure and permanent living in Saudi Arabia; as it was, there was a fear among the non-Saudis that they would have to leave the country once their job contract expired. Under the circumstances, though my spiritual connection to Mecca was strong, my husband was convinced that Saudi Arabia did not provide any job security. So, in 1987 when Australia offered migration to highly skilled people, my husband decided to migrate to Australia for a better and more secure economic life. I agreed to his decision, but quite reluctantly because we were again moving to a non-Muslim part of the world, which would be culturally different and far away from my original homeland (Bangladesh). In Australia, we lived first in Brisbane, then Adelaide, and after three years we took our Australian citizenship. At that stage I loved the Barossa Valley and Victor Harbour in South Australia, and the Gold Coast and Sunshine Coast in Queensland, but did not feel at home in Australia. We bought a house in Adelaide and I was a full time home-maker but was always apprehensive that my children (two boys) would lose their culture in this non-Muslim world. In 1990 we once again moved back to the Muslim world, this time to Muscat, Sultanate of Oman. My connection to this route was again spiritual. I valued the fact that we would live in a Muslim country and our children would be brought up in a Muslim environment. But my husband’s move was purely financial as he got a lucrative job offer in Muscat. We had another son in Oman. We enjoyed the luxurious lifestyle provided by my husband’s workplace and the service provided by the housemaid. I loved the beaches and freedom to drive my car, and I appreciated the friendly Omani people. I also enjoyed our frequent trips (4 hours flight) to my root, Dhaka, Bangladesh. So our children were raised within our ethnic and Islamic culture, remained close to my root (family in Dhaka), though they attended a British school in Muscat. But by the time I started considering Oman to be my second home, we had to leave once again for a place that could provide us with a more secure future. Oman was like Saudi Arabia; it employed expatriates only on a contract basis, and did not give them citizenship (not even fellow Muslims). So after 5 years it was time to move back to Australia. It was with great reluctance that I moved with my husband to Brisbane in 1995 because once again we were to face a different cultural context. As mentioned earlier, we lived in Brisbane in the late 1980s; I liked the weather, the landscape, but did not consider it home for cultural reasons. Our boys started attending expensive private schools and we bought a house in a prestigious Western suburb in Brisbane. Soon after arriving I started my tertiary education at the University of Queensland, and finished an MA in Historical Studies in Indian History in 1998. Still Australia was not my home. I kept thinking that we would return to my previous routes or the ‘imagined’ homeland somewhere in the Middle East, in close proximity to my root (Bangladesh), where we could remain economically secure in a Muslim country. But gradually I began to feel that Australia was becoming my ‘home’. I had gradually become involved in professional and community activities (with university colleagues, the Bangladeshi community and Muslim women’s organisations), and in retrospect I could see that this was an early stage of my ‘self-actualisation’ (Maslow). Through my involvement with diverse people, I felt emotionally connected with the concerns, hopes and dreams of my Muslim-Australian friends. Subsequently, I also felt connected with my mainstream Australian friends whose emotions and fears (9/11 incident, Bali bombing and 7/7 tragedy) were similar to mine. In late 1998 I started my PhD studies on the immigration history of Australia, with a particular focus on the historical settlement of Muslims in Australia. This entailed retrieving archival files and interviewing people, mostly Muslims and some mainstream Australians, and enquiring into relevant migration issues. I also became more active in community issues, and was not constrained by my circumstances. By circumstances, I mean that even though I belonged to a patriarchally structured Muslim family, where my husband was the main breadwinner, main decision-maker, my independence and research activities (entailing frequent interstate trips for data collection, and public speaking) were not frowned upon or forbidden (Khan 14-15); fortunately, my husband appreciated my passion for research and gave me his trust and support. This, along with the Muslim community’s support (interviews), and the wider community’s recognition (for example, the publication of my letters in Australian newspapers, interviews on radio and television) enabled me to develop my self-esteem and built up my bicultural identity as a Muslim in a predominantly Christian country and as a Bangladeshi-Australian. In 2005, for the sake of a better job opportunity, my husband moved to the UK, but this time I asserted that I would not move again. I felt that here in Australia (now in Perth) I had a job, an identity and a home. This time my husband was able to secure a good job back in Australia and was only away for a year. I no longer dream of finding a home in the Middle East. Through my bicultural identity here in Australia I feel connected to the wider community and to the Muslim umma. However, my attachment to the umma has become ambivalent. I feel proud of my Australian-Muslim identity but I am concerned about the jihadi ideology of militant Muslims. By jihadi ideology, I mean the extremist ideology of the al-Qaeda terrorist group (Farrar 2007). The Muslim umma now incorporates both moderate and radical Muslims. The radical Muslims (though only a tiny minority of 1.4 billion Muslims worldwide) pose a threat to their moderate counterparts as well as to non-Muslims. In the UK, some second- and third-generation Muslims identify themselves with the umma rather than their parents’ homelands or their country of birth (Husain). It should not be a matter of concern if these young Muslims adopt a ‘pure’ Muslim identity, providing at the same time they are loyal to their country of residence. But when they resort to terrorism with their ‘pure’ Muslim identity (e.g., the 7/7 London bombers) they defame my religion Islam, and undermine my spiritual connection to the umma. As a 1st generation immigrant, the defining criteria of my ‘homeliness’ in Australia are my ethno-cultural and religious identity (which includes my family), my active citizenship, and my community development/contribution through my research work – all of which allow me a sense of efficacy in my life. My ethnic and religious identities generally co-exist equally, but when I see some Muslims kill my fellow Australians (such as the Bali bombings in 2002 and 2005) my Australian identity takes precedence. I feel for the victims and condemn the perpetrators. On the other hand, when I see politics play a role over the human rights issues (e.g., the Tampa incident), my religious identity begs me to comment on it (see Kabir, Muslims in Australia 295-305). Problematising ‘Home’ for Muslim Australians In the European context, Grillo (863) and Werbner (904), and in the Australian context, Kabir (Muslims in Australia) and Poynting and Mason, have identified the diversity within Islam (national, ethnic, religious etc). Werbner (904) notes that in spite of the “wishful talk of the emergence of a ‘British Islam’, even today there are Pakistani, Bangladeshi and Arab mosques, as well as Turkish and Shia’a mosques”; thus British Muslims retain their separate identities. Similarly, in Australia, the existence of separate mosques for the Bangladeshi, Pakistani, Arab and Shia’a peoples indicates that Australian Muslims have also kept their ethnic identities discrete (Saeed 64-77). However, in times of crisis, such as the Salman Rushdie affair in 1989, and the 1990-1991 Gulf crises, both British and Australian Muslims were quick to unite and express their Islamic identity by way of resistance (Kabir, Muslims in Australia 160-162; Poynting and Mason 68-70). In both British and Australian contexts, I argue that a peaceful rally or resistance is indicative of active citizenship of Muslims as it reveals their sense of belonging (also Werbner 905). So when a transmigrant Muslim wants to make a peaceful demonstration, the Western world should be encouraged, not threatened – as long as the transmigrant’s allegiances lie also with the host country. In the European context, Grillo (868) writes: when I asked Mehmet if he was planning to stay in Germany he answered without hesitation: ‘Yes, of course’. And then, after a little break, he added ‘as long as we can live here as Muslims’. In this context, I support Mehmet’s desire to live as a Muslim in a non-Muslim world as long as this is peaceful. Paradoxically, living a Muslim life through ijtihad can be either socially progressive or destructive. The Canadian Muslim feminist Irshad Manji relies on ijtihad, but so does Osama bin Laden! Manji emphasises that ijtihad can be, on the one hand, the adaptation of Islam using independent reasoning, hybridity and the contesting of ‘traditional’ family values (c.f. Doogue and Kirkwood 275-276, 314); and, on the other, ijtihad can take the form of conservative, patriarchal and militant Islamic values. The al-Qaeda terrorist Osama bin Laden espouses the jihadi ideology of Sayyid Qutb (1906-1966), an Egyptian who early in his career might have been described as a Muslim modernist who believed that Islam and Western secular ideals could be reconciled. But he discarded that idea after going to the US in 1948-50; there he was treated as ‘different’ and that treatment turned him against the West. He came back to Egypt and embraced a much more rigid and militaristic form of Islam (Esposito 136). Other scholars, such as Cesari, have identified a third orientation – a ‘secularised Islam’, which stresses general beliefs in the values of Islam and an Islamic identity, without too much concern for practices. Grillo (871) observed Islam in the West emphasised diversity. He stressed that, “some [Muslims were] more quietest, some more secular, some more clamorous, some more negotiatory”, while some were exclusively characterised by Islamic identity, such as wearing the burqa (elaborate veils), hijabs (headscarves), beards by men and total abstinence from drinking alcohol. So Mehmet, cited above, could be living a Muslim life within the spectrum of these possibilities, ranging from an integrating mode to a strict, militant Muslim manner. In the UK context, Zubaida (96) contends that marginalised, culturally-impoverished youth are the people for whom radical, militant Islamism may have an appeal, though it must be noted that the 7/7 bombers belonged to affluent families (O’Sullivan 14; Husain). In Australia, Muslim Australians are facing three challenges. First, the Muslim unemployment rate: it was three times higher than the national total in 1996 and 2001 (Kabir, Muslims in Australia 266-278; Kabir, “What Does It Mean” 63). Second, some spiritual leaders have used extreme rhetoric to appeal to marginalised youth; in January 2007, the Australian-born imam of Lebanese background, Sheikh Feiz Mohammad, was alleged to have employed a DVD format to urge children to kill the enemies of Islam and to have praised martyrs with a violent interpretation of jihad (Chulov 2). Third, the proposed citizenship test has the potential to make new migrants’ – particularly Muslims’ – settlement in Australia stressful (Kabir, “What Does It Mean” 62-79); in May 2007, fuelled by perceptions that some migrants – especially Muslims – were not integrating quickly enough, the Howard government introduced a citizenship test bill that proposes to test applicants on their English language skills and knowledge of Australian history and ‘values’. I contend that being able to demonstrate knowledge of history and having English language skills is no guarantee that a migrant will be a good citizen. Through my transmigrant history, I have learnt that developing a bond with a new place takes time, acceptance and a gradual change of identity, which are less likely to happen when facing assimilationist constraints. I spoke English and studied history in the United States, but I did not consider it my home. I did not speak the Arabic language, and did not study Middle Eastern history while I was in the Middle East, but I felt connected to it for cultural and religious reasons. Through my knowledge of history and English language proficiency I did not make Australia my home when I first migrated to Australia. Australia became my home when I started interacting with other Australians, which was made possible by having the time at my disposal and by fortunate circumstances, which included a fairly high level of efficacy and affluence. If I had been rejected because of my lack of knowledge of ‘Australian values’, or had encountered discrimination in the job market, I would have been much less willing to embrace my host country and call it home. I believe a stringent citizenship test is more likely to alienate would-be citizens than to induce their adoption of values and loyalty to their new home. Conclusion Blunt (5) observes that current studies of home often investigate mobile geographies of dwelling and how it shapes one’s identity and belonging. Such geographies of home negotiate from the domestic to the global context, thus mobilising the home beyond a fixed, bounded and confining location. Similarly, in this paper I have discussed how my mobile geography, from the domestic (root) to global (route), has shaped my identity. Though I received a degree of culture shock in the United States, loved the Middle East, and was at first quite resistant to the idea of making Australia my second home, the confidence I acquired in residing in these ‘several homes’ were cumulative and eventually enabled me to regard Australia as my ‘home’. I loved the Middle East, but I did not pursue an active involvement with the Arab community because I was a busy mother. Also I lacked the communication skill (fluency in Arabic) with the local residents who lived outside the expatriates’ campus. I am no longer a cultural freak. I am no longer the same Bangladeshi woman who saw her ethnic and Islamic culture as superior to all other cultures. I have learnt to appreciate Australian values, such as tolerance, ‘a fair go’ and multiculturalism (see Kabir, “What Does It Mean” 62-79). My bicultural identity is my strength. With my ethnic and religious identity, I can relate to the concerns of the Muslim community and other Australian ethnic and religious minorities. And with my Australian identity I have developed ‘a voice’ to pursue active citizenship. Thus my biculturalism has enabled me to retain and merge my former home with my present and permanent home of Australia. References Anderson, Benedict. Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism. London, New York: Verso, 1983. Australian Bureau of Statistics: Census of Housing and Population, 1996 and 2001. Blunt, Alison. Domicile and Diaspora: Anglo-Indian Women and the Spatial Politics of Home. 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Citation reference for this article MLA Style Kabir, Nahid. "Why I Call Australia ‘Home’?: A Transmigrant’s Perspective." M/C Journal 10.4 (2007). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0708/15-kabir.php>. APA Style Kabir, N. (Aug. 2007) "Why I Call Australia ‘Home’?: A Transmigrant’s Perspective," M/C Journal, 10(4). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0708/15-kabir.php>.