Journal articles on the topic 'Richard M Hare'

According to John Flete, the fifteenth-century historian of Westminster Abbey, Abbot Richard de Berkyng (d. 1246) bequeathed to the Abbey two curtains or dorsalia which he had procured for the choir, depicting the story of the Saviour and St Edward. Nothing is known about the appearance of these textiles; but they were presumably of fine quality, befitting the patronage of a Treasurer of England, and were evidently intended to hang in the choir stalls. There they remained until after the Dissolution. According to a sixteenth-century commentary with transcriptions of the original texts in the hangings by Robert Hare, discovered by M. R. James (Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge, MS 391 [611], they were of ‘faire arras worke’, and so were tapestries rather than embroideries; they were also described as ‘wrought in the cloth of Arras’ by Weever in 1631. They hung in the church until 1644, whence they were removed to the chamber of the House of Commons in the Palace; according to Brayley ‘a large remnant’ of the scene of the Circumcision was still preserved in the Jerusalem Chamber at the Abbey in the early nineteenth century. The tapestries were one of the most extensive recorded instances of English thirteenth-century textile production. They provide evidence too for a genre of monastic choir decoration analogous to the lost Old Testament narratives in the choir at Bury St Edmund's and the typological pictures formerly adorning the choir-stalls of Peterborough Abbey. Moreover, they anticipate the mixture of purely narrative material in the surviving fourteenth-century paintings above the dossals of the choir stalls of Cologne Cathedral, and especially the tapestries depicting the lives of St Piat and St Eleutherius from the choir of Tournai Cathedral, Arras work dated 1402.

Abstract Get this: PhDs are hard. But PhDs can be hard for the wrong reasons. A recent event held by the RAS's Early Career Network Committee identified a host of unnecessary energy-drains that should be avoided for a more profitable PhD experience. By Dominic M. Bowman, Fred Richards, Megan Maunder, Áine O'Brien and Douglas Boubert.

El presente artículo está basado en la exposición de M. Michel Richard, en el 3rd International Architecture Workshop 2017: Tourisme et patrimoine. Le territoire de Roquebrune-Cap Martin, realizado por la Designing Heritage Tourism Landscape Network, en septiembre de 2017, en Francia. Como Presidente, entonces, de la Fundación Le Corbusier y experto en su obra y en el trabajo de preservación que esta implica, Michel Richard llama a reflexionar sobre los desafíos que la apertura al turismo de masas presupone para dichas obras. Tal es el caso de las que fueron tema del Workshop antes mencionado (el Cabanon, la Villa E-1027, las Unités de Camping, el estudio de Le Corbusier), y que fueron concebidas como espacios para la vida privada, como arquitecturas íntimas. Richard hace foco en las contradicciones entre la necesidad de hacer conocer el patrimonio (y los potenciales recursos que esta acción proporciona para la conservación del mismo) y la obligación de protegerlo, a su vez, de las consecuencias lógicas del acceso del público.

Background: Ibrutinib, a small molecule inhibitor of Bruton's Tyrosine Kinase (BTK) is approved for use in a variety of lymphomas. Priced at $130,000/year, Ibrutinib imposes a significant financial burden on patients and society[1]. The study serving as the basis for the currently approved dose [2] demonstrated >95% BTK receptor occupancy at a dose of 2.5 mg/kg. Data suggests that lower doses of Ibrutinib are equally effective[3] and dose reductions[4, 5] do not compromise outcome. Objective: To evaluate patient outcomes and cost savings with clinically indicated low dose (LD) of Ibrutinib in a community practice in hematological malignancies. Method: All patients treated with standard and LD Ibrutinib between January 2014 and July 2020 were identified. Reason for dose modification and best responses were abstracted. Patients with inadequate follow up or less than a week of treatment were excluded from the analysis. Responses were defined based on the iwCLL response criteria for Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia (CLL), Lugano criteria for Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma and International Working Group on Waldenström's Macroglobulinemia (WM), as applicable. To calculate drug cost at lower doses of Ibrutinib, cumulative number of patient-months on different dose levels of ibrutinib was calculated by adding the number of months each patient had remained at the dose level at the time of data cut-off. Drug cost at LD was calculated by multiplying monthly wholesale acquisition price for different dose levels of ibrutinib by the cumulative number of patient-months at that dose level. Cost differential between actual drug cost and projected drug cost at full dose was calculated. Results: 98 patients were identified. 10 were excluded from the analysis based on drug not started (3), inadequate follow-up (3), other (4). Median length of follow up for all patients was 20 months (4-70 months) and on LD Ibrutinib 12.5 months (1-60 months). 10 and 12 patients received 140 mg and 280 mg of Ibrutinib respectively due to side effects. 61 patients had CLL, 9 WM, 15 mantle cell lymphoma (MCL), and 2 marginal zone lymphoma (MZL). Response rates were similar across diagnoses and dose levels (TABLE 1 and FIGURE 1). Progressive disease (PD) at low dose was seen in 2 CLL patients with complex cytogenetics, deletion 17p and extensive prior therapy. The one WM patient with PD had been extensively pretreated. Cumulative patient-months at the 140 mg and 280 mg dose levels of Ibrutinib was 177 and 123 months respectively. Drug cost for the 140 mg and 280 mg Ibrutinib cohorts were $712,276 and $989,943 respectively, for a total cost of $1,702,219. Potential drug cost for the 420 or 560 mg dose of Ibrutinib for the same duration of therapy was $3,621,828. Cumulative cost avoidance on LD Ibrutinib was $1,919, 608. Conclusions: Clinically indicated low dose Ibrutinib was equally effective and produced significant cost savings. References: 1. Qiushi Chen, N.J., Turgay Ayer, William G. Wierda, Christopher R. Flowers, Susan M. O'Brien, Michael J. Keating, Hagop M. Kantarjian, and Jagpreet Chhatwal, Economic Burden of Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia in the Era of Oral Targeted Therapies in the United States. Journal of Clinical Oncology, 2017: p. 166-174. 2. Ranjana H. Advani, J.J.B., Jeff P. Sharman , Sonali M. Smith , Thomas E. Boyd , Barbara GrantKathryn S. Kolibaba , Richard R. Furman , Sara Rodriguez , Betty Y. Chang , Juthamas Sukbuntherng , Raquel Izumi , Ahmed Hamdy , Eric Hedrick , Nathan, Bruton Tyrosine Kinase Inhibitor Ibrutinib (PCI-32765) Has Significant Activity in Patients With Relapsed/Refractory B-Cell Malignancies. Journal of Clinical Oncology, 2013: p. 88-94. 3. Lisa S. Chen, P.B., Nichole D. Cruz , Yongying Jiang , Qi Wu , Philip A. Thompson , Shuju Feng , Michael H. Kroll , Wei Qiao , Xuelin Huang , Nitin Jain , William G. Wierda , Michael J. Keating , Varsha Gandhi, A pilot study of lower doses of ibrutinib in patients with chronic lymphocytic leukemia. Blood, 2018: p. 2249-2259. 4. Lad DP, Malhotra P, Khadwal A, Prakash G, Jain A, Varma S. Reduced Dose Ibrutinib Due to Financial Toxicity in CLL. Indian Journal of Hematology and Blood Transfusion, 2018. 35(2): p. 260-264. 5. Othman S. Akhtar, K.A., Ian Lund, Ryan Hare, Francisco J. Hernandez-Ilizaliturri & Pallawi Torka, Dose reductions in ibrutinib therapy are not associated with inferior outcomes in patients with chronic lymphocytic leukemia (CLL). Leukemia & Lymphoma, 2019. 60(7): p. 1650-1655. Disclosures No relevant conflicts of interest to declare. OffLabel Disclosure: Ibrutinib is approved at a dose of 420 mg orally daily or 560 mg orally daily in different lymphoproliferative disorders.

This latest addition to publisher M. E. Sharpe's Australian National University contemporary China books series comes with a blurb that sends a powerful message of intimidation to the weary reviewer. In it, Richard Baum insists that the book's contents amount to “the distilled wisdom and insight of three generations of distinguished China specialists.” Now, who would want to risk stepping on the toes of one's daughter's, one's own and one's mother's generations in ‘the field’ by saying no?

“Study hard what interests you the most in the most undisciplined, irreverent and original manner possible” [ Perfectly Reasonable Deviations from the Beaten Track, Richard P. Feynman, Basic Books, 2005]. Writing original homework problems is a powerful way students of physical acoustics can practice Feynman’s advice. Three problems that involve a broad range of concepts covered in introductory graduate-level physical acoustics courses illustrate how the student-author unleashed his creativity in an undisciplined manner, injected his problems with an irreverent sense of humor, and derived a great sense of originality and ownership over physical acoustics. The problems synthesize David T. Blackstock’s problems 1D-2, 1E-3, 1G-1, 1G-3, 7-6, 10-10, and 10-11 [ Fundamentals of Physical Acoustics, David T. Blackstock, Wiley, 2000], addressing concepts including acoustic intensity, impedance, horns, enclosures, and radiation. [CAG was supported by the ARL:UT Chester M. McKinney Graduate Fellowship in Acoustics.]

Ronald Reagan's contribution to federal Indian policy proved mixed. Remarks by members of his administration recalled the heyday of termination, and Reagan's budget cuts fell hard on Native Americans. Reagan also played to non-Indian backlash by supporting legislation that restricted tribal rights to file claims on land disputes. Still, the administration continued the policy of tribal self-determination, begun under Richard M. Nixon. Reagan signed legislation to restore the Klamaths to federal trust responsibility, to help tribes ““contract out”” to run many federal services themselves, and to recognize and regulate gaming on Indian reservations. Most importantly, Reagan affirmed ““government to government”” relationships between the federal government, states, and tribes. Federal Indian policy mirrored other aspects of U.S. politics in the 1980s, including reductions in domestic spending, white reaction against minority civil rights gains, and the extolling of entrepreneurship. But the administration's ability, and even its willingness, to reverse the trend toward tribal self-determination proved limited.

Following Richard M. Hare1 I think that we use practical sentences as decision criteria. We understand their meaning if we know what decision to take according to them. But it is not clear, how exactly decision criteria are related to decisions and how they function as criteria. To fully understand this role, we need a formal semantics of practical sentences. For this I have to introduce a formal language and give an interpretation of it. This language has to be constructed in such a way that a translation into ordinary language is always possible in principle. Thus, we make sure that our semantics and logic will have an impact on the solution of concrete practical problems. According to this program I will first introduce the formal language ‘LP1’. To give an interpretation of it I will then clarify what a decision is and show how practical sentences function as decision criteria. On this basis I give an interpretation of the primitive two-place operator ‘PT p,q’ and the one-place operator ‘VTp’. I further argue that we make meta-decisions concerning the application of first-order decision-criteria. This allows me to introduce a new concept of practical validity, which differs radically from the concept of truth. Using this concept, I then give an interpretation of the deontic operators ‘OTp’, ‘FTp’, ‘ATp’ and ‘ITp’. The concept of practical validity makes it also possible to introduce practical logical connectors and mixed logical connectors on the basis of practical or mixed value tables. These connectors are used – among others – in bridge-principles, which play an important role in ethical and juridical theories. Finally, I shortly explain the semantics of the main kinds of practical sentences, i.e. value judgments, imperatives, norms and intentions, and I argue that we need a deontic logic in order to use practical sentences in a correct way.

This superb history of the Cultural Revolution inside China's foreign ministry is a carefully documented account by a participant whose overriding concern is with the factual record and with setting it straight. Ma Jisen, who worked in the West European Department between 1952 and 1969, asserts that on a number of crucial points popular understanding of Mao's assault on revisionism remains shaped by what are really little more than “dramatically oversimplified… [and] brazenly distorted…cartoonized rumour accounts" (pp. 403–404). In support of this assertion, she adduces much new and powerful evidence, especially from the first years of the Cultural Revolution. The end result is a book that may well prompt many readers to seriously reconsider much of our accepted knowledge about what happened – and why – in those tumultuous years when the British Mission in Beijing was set ablaze, Chinese students waving the Little Red Book were roughed up by the KGB in Red Square, and Mao turned from obsessing about American imperialist paper tigers to describing (in conversation with Edgar Snow in December 1970) that country's Republican president, Richard M. Nixon, as “a good person (haoren), the number one good person in the world!” The author is not out to replace old myths with new ones. She finds no simple answers and, in fact, does not even seem to seek them. Much of the value of her work lies in the subtle way it brings to the fore the absurdity of the Cultural Revolution. On occasion, her raw data, her carefully selected illustrations from contemporary texts, speak only too well for themselves: “If you want peace, the revisionists will not let you have peace,” she quotes Foreign Minister Chen Yi as saying in June 1966 – then, a few lines later, she has him denouncing, in the very same speech, the revisionist fallacy of seeking peaceful co-existence (pp. 13–14).

Speaking skill is affected by two factors, the internal and external factors. The two external factors are instructional methods and learning resources. The complete and incomplete learning resources will surely affect the instructional process. As well as with instructional methods, it will affect the achievement of learning objectives. This research is aimed to get the empirical data and to find out the effect of instructional method and learning resources towards students’ speaking skill at state senior high schools in Bekasi. The research was conducted at SMA Negeri 1 and SMA Negeri 2 Sukatani-Bekasi. The total sample of this research is 40 students. The experiment was done from 17 Juli – 02 December in 2017. The technique of collecting data of instructional method and learning resources used questionnaires. Otherwise, the speaking skill was acquired from the test. The result of the research identifies there is the significant effect of instructional method and learning resources towards students speaking skill. Thus, the schools and the government should increasingly work hard in fulfillment of the completeness of learning resources and using an appropriate instructional method for the achievement of learning objectives. References Abdullah, M. (2013). Students’ speaking ability through community language learning. ELITE: English and Literature Journal, 1(1), 97-125. http://journal.uin-alauddin.ac.id/index.php/elite/article/view/3353/3167 Brown, H. D. (2004). Language assessment, principle, and classroom practice: Fourth edition. New York: Pearson Education, Inc. Cameron, L. (2001). Teaching language to young learners. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Chaney, A. L., & Burk, T. L. (1998). Teaching oral communication in grades K-8. Boston: Allyn and Bacon. Hughes, D. (2007). Public speaking. Jakarta: Gramedia Widiasarana. Keown, M. P. (1976). Reading a basic guide for parents and teacher. Singapore: Routledgeand Kegan Paul Ltd. Masbiran, G. & Fauzi, A. (2017). Speaking skill in using community language learning (CLL). IJIELT, 3(2), 198-205. doi: http://dx.doi.org/10.24014/ijielt.v3i2.4844 Muhroji, dkk. (2004). Fasilitas belajar mengajar. Jakarta: Rineka Cipta. Nurhayati & Mufliharsi, R. (2016). Perencanaan dan pengajaran bahasa Inggris. Jakarta: UNINDRA PRESS. Nurmalia, E. (2010). Pengaruh fasilitas dan lingkungan belajar terhadap prestasi belajar siswa kelas XI IPS MAN Malang 1. Skripsi tidak diterbitkan. Malang: Universitas Islam Negeri (UIN) Maulana Malik Ibrahim Malang. Richards J.C., & Rodgers. (1986). Approaches and methods in language teaching. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Sudjana. (1996). Metode statistika. Bandung: Tarsito. Setiyadi, B. (2006). Teaching english as foreign language. Yogyakarta: Graha Ilmu.

J. Lennart Berggren and Alexander Jones, Ptolemy's Geography: An Annotated Translation of the Theoretical Chapters. By Karin Tybjerg 194Natalia Lozovsky, ‘The Earth is Our Book’: Geographical Knowledge in the Latin West ca. 400–1000. By Evelyn Edson 196David Cantor (ed.), Reinventing Hippocrates. By Daniel Brownstein 197Peter Dear, Revolutionizing the Sciences: European Knowledge and Its Ambitions, 1500–1700. By John Henry 199Paolo Rossi, Logic and the Art of Memory: The Quest for a Universal Language. By John Henry 200Marie Boas Hall, Henry Oldenburg: Shaping the Royal Society. By Christoph Lüthy 201Richard L. Hills, James Watt, Volume 1: His Time in Scotland, 1736–1774. By David Philip Miller 203René Sigrist (ed.), H.-B. de Saussure (1740–1799): Un Regard sur la terre, Albert V. Carozzi and John K. Newman (eds.), Lectures on Physical Geography given in 1775 by Horace-Bénédict de Saussure at the Academy of Geneva/Cours de géographie physique donné en 1775 par Horace-Bénédict de Saussure à l'Académie de Genève and Horace-Bénédict de Saussure, Voyages dans les Alpes: Augmentés des Voyages en Valais, au Mont Cervin et autour du Mont Rose. By Martin Rudwick 206Anke te Heesen, The World in a Box: The Story of an Eighteenth-Century Picture Encyclopedia. By Richard Yeo 208David Boyd Haycock, William Stukeley: Science, Religion and Archaeology in Eighteenth-Century England. By Geoffrey Cantor 209Jessica Riskin, Science in the Age of Sensibility: The Sentimental Empiricists of the French Enlightenment. By Dorinda Outram 210Michel Chaouli, The Laboratory of Poetry: Chemistry and Poetics in the Work of Friedrich Schlegel. By David Knight 211George Levine, Dying to Know: Scientific Epistemology and Narrative in Victorian England. By Michael H. Whitworth 212Agustí Nieto-Galan, Colouring Textiles: A History of Natural Dyestuffs in Industrial Europe. By Ursula Klein 214Stuart McCook, States of Nature: Science, Agriculture, and Environment in the Spanish Caribbean, 1760–1940. By Piers J. Hale 215Paola Govoni, Un pubblico per la scienza: La divulgazione scientifica nell'Italia in formazione. By Pietro Corsi 216R. W. Home, A. M. Lucas, Sara Maroske, D. M. Sinkora and J. H. Voigt (eds.), Regardfully Yours: Selected Correspondence of Ferdinand von Mueller. Volume II: 1860–1875. By Jim Endersby 217Douglas R. Weiner, Models of Nature: Ecology, Conservation and Cultural Revolution in Soviet Russia. With a New Afterword. By Piers J. Hale 219Helge Kragh, Quantum Generations: A History of Physics in the Twentieth Century. By Steven French 220Antony Kamm and Malcolm Baird, John Logie Baird: A Life. By Sean Johnston 221Robin L. Chazdon and T. C. Whitmore (eds.), Foundations of Tropical Forest Biology: Classic Papers with Commentaries. By Joel B. Hagen 223Stephen Jay Gould, I Have Landed: Splashes and Reflections in Natural History. By Peter J. Bowler 223Henry Harris, Things Come to Life: Spontaneous Generation Revisited. By Rainer Brömer 224Hélène Gispert (ed.), ‘Par la Science, pour la patrie’: L'Association française pour l'avancement des sciences (1872–1914), un projet politique pour une société savante. By Cristina Chimisso 225Henry Le Chatelier, Science et industrie: Les Débuts du taylorisme en France. By Robert Fox 227Margit Szöllösi-Janze (ed.), Science in the Third Reich. By Jonathan Harwood 227Vadim J. Birstein, The Perversion of Knowledge; The true Story of Soviet Science. By C. A. J. Chilvers 229Guy Hartcup, The Effect of Science on the Second World War. By David Edgerton 230Lillian Hoddeson and Vicki Daitch, True Genius: The Life and Science of John Bardeen, the Only Winner of Two Nobel Prizes in Physics. By Arne Hessenbruch 230Stephen B. Johnson, The Secret of Apollo: Systems Management in American and European Space Programs, John M. Logsdon (ed.), Exploring the Unknown: Selected Documents in the History of the U.S. Civil Space Program. Volume V: Exploring the Cosmos and Douglas J. Mudgway, Uplink-Downlink: A History of the Deep Space Network 1957–1997. By Jon Agar 231Helen Ross and Cornelis Plug, The Mystery of the Moon Illusion: Exploring Size Perception. By Klaus Hentschel 233Matthew R. Edwards (ed.), Pushing Gravity: New Perspectives on Le Sage's Theory of Gravitation. By Friedrich Steinle 234Ernest B. Hook (ed.), Prematurity in Scientific Discovery: On Resistance and Neglect. By Alex Dolby 235John Waller, Fabulous Science: Fact and Fiction in the History of Scientific Discovery. By Alex Dolby 236Rosalind Williams, Retooling: A Historian Confronts Technological Change. By Keith Vernon 237Colin Divall and Andrew Scott, Making Histories in Transport Museums. By Anthony Coulls 238

The article deals with the confrontation of two worlds – the world of ordinary people and creators in the novel "The Collector" by the English writer-postmodernist J. Fowles. The aim of this study is to prove that the conflict between consumers and enthusiastic creators is one of the main themes of the novel "Collector", as well as to emphasize the writer's hidden appeals and warnings about the need to protect the vulnerable and vulnerable world of creators from the external correct and mechanistic world. consumers. Within the topic, it is important to generalize and adapt scientific and theoretical material on this issue for students of philology. The research technique consists in extrapolating the method of "practical criticism" (A.A. Richards, S. Johnson, M. Arnold, T.S. Eliot, F.R. Lewis) to the literary text of J. Fowles' novel "The Collector". In particular, it is assumed to read the text in accordance with the moral criteria and analyze the problems of content (clarification of the moral guidelines of the author). Results of the research. It is proved that J. Fowles in the novel "The Collector" depicted two opposite worlds – ordinary people and creators. The world of creative enthusiasts symbolizes a full life with all the richness of ideas, emotions, contradictory and complex feelings inherent in human search, and the world of ordinary people embodies a dim imitation of real life, "mechanized" existence, in which there are no creative impulses, creative initiative. Miranda is found to represent the world of creators, she is a man of search, she lives, choking on emotions and feelings, intuitively realizing that this is the meaning of life. Clegg summarizes the world of the townspeople. He is an ambitious, limited tyrant, full of hidden malice and hatred for those who are spiritually richer and smarter. At the same time, the writer showed the vulnerability and insecurity of the world of beauty and culture, recalling the eternity of the confrontation of love and hate, good and evil, creative living beginnings and hard, mundane existence. The practical significance of the research results lies in the possibility of their use in the further study of the literary heritage of J. Fowles, as well as in the preparation of students of philology for practical and seminar classes.

The challenge of implementing character education has an impact on the development of children's character. This study aims to describe the form of parenting using tueak serembeak in early character development and education in the Rejang tribe. This qualitative research uses a case study method with two male respondents. Data was collected by documentation, interviews, observations, and field notes and analysed using the Miles and Huberman stages. The theoretical study as the basis of research shows that tueak serembeak can form twelve characters in early childhood, responsibility, courage to take decisions, sharing, caring, survival, tenacity, cooperation, hard work, never give up, keep the spirit, dare to accept challenges, and be patient in dealing with problems. However, the findings in the field show that there are only four characters that appear, being responsible, sharing, caring and patient in dealing with problems. Other characters that appear not based on the teachings of tueak serembeakare independent, creative, and friendly characters. This happens because of the influence of external intervention, education in Air Raman Village, which has developed, advanced technology and open community life. A suggestion for further research, is experimental research based on tueak serembeak teachings that can explain more clearly the influence of this teaching on other aspects of child development. Keywords: Early Character Development, Parenting, Tueak Serembeak References: Acar, I. H., Uçuş, Ş., & Yıldız, S. (2017). Parenting and Turkish children’ s behaviour problems: The moderating role of qualities of parent – child relationship moderating role of qualities of parent – child relationship. 4430(September). https://doi.org/10.1080/03004430.2017.1365362 Adhe, K. R. (2014). Penanaman Karakter Anak Usia 5-6 Tahun Pada Masyarakat Samin. Asscheman, J. S., He, J., Koot, S., Buil, J. M., Krabbendam, L., & Lier, P. A. C. Van. (2020). Classroom peer preferences and the development of sharing behavior with friends and others. International Journal of Behavioral Development, 44(5), 412–423. https://doi.org/10.1177/0165025420911094 Bavarian, N., Lewis, K. M., Dubois, D. L., Acock, A., Vuchinich, S., Silverthorn, N., Snyder, F. J., Day, J., Ji, P., & Flay, B. R. (2013). Using social-emotional and character development to improve academic outcomes: A matched-pair, cluster-randomized controlled trial in low-income, urban schools. The Journal of School Health, 83(11), 771–779. PubMed. https://doi.org/10.1111/josh.12093 Berkowitz, R., Astor, R. A., Pineda, D., DePedro, K. T., Weiss, E. L., & Benbenishty, R. (2021). Parental Involvement and Perceptions of School Climate in California. Urban Education, 56(3), 393–423. https://doi.org/10.1177/0042085916685764 Castro-schilo, L., Taylor, Z. E., Ferrer, E., Richard, W., Conger, R. D., Widaman, K. F., Conger, R. D., & Widaman, K. F. (2012). Parenting: Science and Practice Parents’ Optimism, Positive Parenting, and Child Peer Competence in Mexican- Origin Families Parents’ Optimism, Positive Parenting, and Child Peer Competence in Mexican-Origin Families. September 2013, 37–41. https://doi.org/10.1080/15295192.2012.709151 Dalimonte-Merckling, D., & Williams, J. M. (2020). Parenting Styles and Their Effects☆. In J. B. Benson (Ed.), Encyclopedia of Infant and Early Childhood Development (Second Edition) (pp. 470–480). Elsevier. https://doi.org/10.1016/B978-0-12-809324-5.23611-0 Daniel, G. R., Wang, C., & Berthelsen, D. (2016). Early Childhood Research Quarterly Early school-based parent involvement, children’ s self-regulated learning and academic achievement: An Australian longitudinal study. Early Childhood Research Quarterly, 36, 168–177. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ecresq.2015.12.016 Dea, L. F., Anwar, M. S., & Yusuf, M. (2020). Building Early Childhood Character through KH. Wahid Hasyim Education Model at RA Ma’ arif Metro. 6(2), 109–120. http://dx.doi.org./0.442/al-athfal.2020.62-02 Diana, R. R., Chirzin, M., Bashori, K., Suud, F. M., & Khairunnisa, N. Z. (2021). Parental Engagement on Children Character Education: The Influences of Positive Parenting and Agreeableness Mediated by Religiosity. Jurnal Cakrawala Pendidikan, 40(2), 428–444. https://doi.org/10.21831/cp.v40i2.39477 Ekorusyono, Y., Rosyadi, I., & Tri Bima, P. (2015). Roh kehidupan Suku Rejang. Buku Litera. Freijo, E. B. A., López, M. J. R., Freijo, E. B. A., & López, M. J. R. (2018). Positive parenting in Spain: Introduction to the special issue Positive parenting in Spain: Introduction to the special issue. 4430. https://doi.org/10.1080/03004430.2018.1501565 Gomez, Jessie A; Carter, Alice S; Forbes, Danielle; Gray, S. A. o. (2019). Parental Insightfulness and Parenting Behavior: A two-dimensional analysis of parent contributions to child cognitive outcomes. HHS Public Access, 20(3), 255–271. https://doi.org/10.1080/14616734.2018.1446734.Parental Gü, S. K. (2017). The Education of Developing Responsibility Value *. 5(2), 5–8. https://doi.org/10.11114/jets.v5i2.1361 Hariyanto, S. M. (2012). Konsep dan Model Pendidikan Karakter [Character Education Concepts and Models]. Remaja rosdakarya. Hodijah, S., Rachmawati, Y., Studi, P., Guru, P., Anak, P., Dini, U., Pedagogik, D., Pendidikan, F. I., & Indonesia, U. P. (2018). Upaya Guru Dalam Menanamkan Sifat Sabar Di RA Persis I Kota Bandung. EDUKIDS: Jurnal Pertumbuhan, Perkembangan, Dan Pendidikan Anak Usia Dini, 15(229), 95–102. Kertajaya, H. (2010). Grow With Character, The Model Marketing. PT Gramedia Pustaka Utama. Lee, G. (2013). Programs: Korean Children’ s Experiences Re-emphasizing Character Education in Early Childhood Programs Korean Children’ s Experiences. Childhood Education, October 2014, 37–41. https://doi.org/10.1080/00094056.2013.830907 Listyarti, R. (2012). Pendidikan Karakter dalam Metode Aktif, Inovatif dan Kreatif. Erlangga. Luciano, M., & Visscher, P. M. (2012). Multivariate Genetic Analyses of Cognition and Academic Achievement from Two Population Samples of 174, 000. 699–710. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10519-012-9549-7 Maas, A. J. B. M., Cock, E. S. A. De, Vreeswijk, C. M. J. M., Ad, J. J. M., Bakel, H. J. A. Van, Maas, A. J. B. M., Cock, E. S. A. De, & Vreeswijk, C. M. J. M. (2016). A longitudinal study on the maternal – fetal relationship and postnatal maternal sensitivity. 6838(April). https://doi.org/10.1080/02646838.2015.1112880 McDevitt, T. M., & Ormrod, J. E. (2015). Child Development and Education. Pearson Education. https://books.google.co.id/books?id=h7KgBwAAQBAJ Mei-ju, C., Chen-hsin, Y., & Pin-chen, H. (2014). The Beauty of Character Education on Preschool Children’ s Parent-Child Relationship. Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences, 143, 527–533. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.sbspro.2014.07.431 Miles, M. B., Huberman, A. 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Cúcuta, 10 de agosto de 2014.DoctorLuis Fernando Gómez U.Director IATREIA.iatreia@medicina.udea.edu.coApreciado colega:Con mucho interés leí la revisión del teratoma retroperitoneal en niños, suscrito por el equipo liderado por el connotado patólogo y dilecto amigo, el doctor Carlos Cortés, en IATREIA 2014, 27(2):189-197. Felicito a los autores pues no es costumbre entre nosotros informar estas curiosidades clínico-patológicas, que ilustran la universalidad de las lesiones y estimulan la mente. En honor a la verdad, al interés que el asunto suscita y a la difusión de su prestigiosa revista que llega a estudiantes de medicina de diversos niveles, permítame hacer un par de anotaciones:1) Los autores citan “la clasificación de Azizkhan que aunque no es la única, fue la utilizada en el presente estudio:” clasificación que alude a la presencia del tejido inmaduro que define la neoplasia descrita. Ocurre que, como anotan Neyssa M. Marina y col. citados en la referencia # 50, las características microscópicas de esta lesión fueron descritas por un célebre patólogo del Massachusetts General Hospital, el doctor Robert E. Scully, (1921-2012) reconocido internacionalmente como “el arquitecto de la clasificación moderna de los tumores ováricos”, coautor de la clasificación de la OMS y del AFIP, referencia obligada cuando de estas neoplasias se trata; luego fueron modificadas y convertidas en criterios por Henry Norris, M.D. y col. (1). Más importante aún es aclarar que la aseveración “se tiene en cuenta la presencia de tejidos inmaduros por campo de menor aumento(x100)” debe ser un error de redacción o de edición, pues es a menor aumento, X40, como se cuentan los campos microscópicos con tejido inmaduro para establecer la gradación del teratoma. Observando en las microfotografías (figuras 3 y 4) los numerosos elementos neuropiteliales, a los cuales no les hace justicia el pie de foto pues son estructuras ectodérmicas, muy osadamente por supuesto, le subiría un grado. Señalo que Richard Azizkhan M.D. es un distinguido cirujano pediatra que trabaja en el Cincinnati Children’s Hospital, autor de varias publicaciones sobre oncología quirúrgica pero no es reconocida autoridad en cuanto a la clasificación histológica de los tumores de células germinales.2) “Se tomó una muestra para cuantificar el nivel de alfa-fetoproteina que fue de 33.062 UI/ml.” Esta cifra en sangre es sumamente elevada y se relaciona, como lo anotan los autores, con el pronóstico. Suponiendo un estado I y aunque la AFP cayó dramáticamente, el marcador es detectado ocho meses después de la cirugía, lo cual es anormal, salvo valores de referencia del laboratorio, que no se mencionan. Dicen los autores que “son útiles los marcadores tumorales como la alfa-fetoproteina y las gonadotropinas” pero no informan los niveles de la β-hCG, clásico marcador del trofoblasto, útil en el diagnóstico y pronóstico de los tumores de células germinales. Rodríguez y Godoy (2) tocan este aspecto, que a continuación tabulo con alguna modificación. TUMORES DE CELULAS GERMINALES NO SEMINOMATOSOS METASTASICOS.RiesgobajomedioaltoSobrevivientes (5 años) %917948Alfa-fetoproteina (UI/L)≤ 1.0001.000 - 10.000≥10.000HCG (UI/L)≤ 5.0005.000 - 50.000≥50.000LDH≤ 1.5 veces lo normal1.5-10 veces lo normal≥10 veces lo normalPrimarioTesticularRetroperitonealTesticularRetroperitonealMediastinalMetástasis visceralesno pulmonares.AusentesAusentes Sin otro particular, agradezco la atención que preste a esta. Dr. Jorge Mogollón Torres.Patólogo jubilado.1) Norris HJ. Zirkin HJ et. al. Immature (malignant) teratoma of the ovary. A clinical and pathologic study of 58 cases. Cancer 1976; 37: 2359-2372.2) Rodríguez Y. Godoy J. Tumor de células germinales. Rev. Fac. Med. 2008; 16(2): 200-214.

NORTHERN IRELAND FROM THE AIR. Edited by R. Common, Belfast : Queen's University Geography Department, 1964. 104 pp., 44 plates, 1 folding map. 10 × 8 ins. 25s.THE CANALS OF THE NORTH OF IRELAND, by W. A. McCutcheon. Dawlish : David and Charles, and London : Macdonald and Co., 1965. 180 pp. 8 1/2 × 5 1/4 in. 36s.ULSTER AND OTHER IRISH MAPS c.1600. Edited by G. A. Hayes‐McCoy. Dublin : Irish Manuscripts Commission, 1964. 13 × 19 in. xv + 36 pp., 23. plates. £ 6.SOILS OF COUNTY WEXFORD. Edited by P. Ryan and M. J. Gardiner. Prepared and published by An Foras Talúntais (The Agricultural Institute), Dublin 1964. 171 pp. and three fold‐in maps. 30s.THE GEOGRAPHY OF SOIL, by Brian T. Bunting. London : Hutchinson's University Library, 1965. pp. 213. 14 figs. 12 tables. 7 1/2 × 5 in. 15s.THE HISTORY OF THE STUDY OF LANDFORMS. Vol. I : GEOMORPHOLOGY BEFORE DAVIS. Richard J. Chorley, Anthony J. Dunn and Robert P. Beckinsale. London : Methuen, 1964. 678 pp. 84s.A DICTIONARY OF GEOGRAPHY, by F. J. Monkhouse. London : Edward. Arnold Ltd., 1965. 344 pp. 8 1/2 × 5 1/2 in. 35s.LA REGION DE L'OUEST, by Pierre Flatrès. Collection ‘France de Demain ‘. Paris : Presses Universitaires de France, 1964. 31s. 6d.THE BRITISH ISLES : A SYSTEMATIC GEOGRAPHY. Edited by J. Wreford Watson and J. B. Sissons. Edinburgh : Thomas Nelson, 1964. 452 pp. 45s.SCANDINAVIAN LANDS, by Roy Millward. London : Macmillan, 1964. Pp. 448. 9 × 6 in. 45s.MERSEYSIDE, by R. Kay Gresswell and R. Lawton. British Landscapes Through Maps, No. 6. The Geographical Association, Sheffield, 1964. 36 pp. + 16 plates. 7 1/2 × 9 1/2 in. 5s.WALKING IN WICKLOW, by J. B. Malone. Dublin : Helicon Ltd., 1964. 172 pp. 7 × 4 #fr1/2> in. 7s.GREYSTONES 1864–1964. A parish centenary, 1964. 23 pp. 8 #fr1/4> × 5 1/2 in. 2s. 6d. Obtainable from the A.P.C.K., 37 Dawson Street, Dublin 2.DINNSEANCHAS. Vol. I, No. I. June 1964. An Cumann Logainmneacha, Baile Atha Cliath. Pp. 24. 5s.JOURNAL OF THE ASSOCIATION OF GEOGRAPHY TEACHERS OF IRELAND. Vol. I, Dublin. 1964.MAP READING FOR THE INTERMEDIATE CERTIFICATE, by Michael J. Turner. A. Folens : Dublin. 1964. 92 pp.MAP OF CORK CITY, 1: 15,000. Dublin : Ordnance Survey Office, 1964. 32 × 24 in. On paper, flat, 4s., or folded and covered, 5s.IRELAND, by T. W. Freeman. London : Methuen & Co. Ltd. Third edition, 1965. 5 1/2 × 8 #fr1/2> in. Pp. xx + 560. 65s.THE PLANNING AND FUTURE DEVELOPMENT OF THE DUBLIN REGION. PRELIMINARY REPORT. By Myles Wright. Dublin : Stationery Office, 1965. Pp.55. 8 ins. × 11 3/4 ins. 10s 6d.LIMERICK REGIONAL PLAN. Interim Report on the Limerick—Shannon— Ennis District by Nathaniel Litchfield. The Stationery Office, Dublin 1965. 8 × 12 ins. ; Pp. 83 ; 10s. 6d.ANTRIM NEW TOWN. Outline Plan. Belfast : H. M. Stationery Office, 1965. 10 1/2 × 8 1/2 in. 15s.HEPORT OF THE DEPUTY KEEPER OF THE RECORDS 1954–1959. Belfast : Her Majesty's Stationery Office. Cmd. 490. 138 pp. 10s.ECONOMIC GEOGRAPHY, by Ronald Hope. London : George Philip and Son Ltd., 4th edition, 1965. pp. 296. 15s. 6d.CLIMATE, SOILS AND VEGETATION, by D. C. Money. London : University Tutorial Press, 1965. pp. 272. 18s.TECHNIQUES IN GEOMORPHOLOGY, by Cuchlaine A. M. King. 9 × 5 1/2 in. 342 pp. London : Edward Arnold (Publishers) Ltd., 1966. 40s.BRITISH GEOMORPHOLOGICAL RESEARCH GROUP PUBLICATIONS :— 1. RATES OF EROSION AND WEATHERING IN THE BRITISH ISLES. Occasional Publication No. 2, 1965. Pp. 46. 13 × 8 in. 7s. 6d.2. DEGLACIATION. Occasional Publication No. 3, 1966. Pp. 37. 13 × 8 in. 7s.RECHERCHES DE GÉOMORPHOLOGIE EN ÉCOSSE DU NORD‐OUEST. By A. Godard. Publication de la Faculté des Lettres de l'Université de Strasbourg, 1965. 701 pp. 482 reís.ARTHUR'S SEAT: A HISTORY OF EDINBURGH'S VOLCANO, by G. P. Black. Edinburgh & London : Oliver & Boyd, 1966. 226 pp. 7 1/2 × 5 in. 35s.OFFSHORE GEOGRAPHY OF NORTHWESTERN EUROPE. The Political and Economic Problems of Delimitation and Control, by Lewis M. Alexander. London : Murray, 1966. 35s.GEOGRAPHICAL PIVOTS OF HISTORY. An Inaugural Lecture, by W. Kirk. Leicester University Press, 1965. 6s.THE GEOGRAPHY OF FRONTIERS AND BOUNDARIES, by J. R. V. Prescott. London : Hutchinson, 1965. 15s.THE READER'S DIGEST COMPLETE ATLAS OF THE BRITISH ISLES.. London : Reader's Digest Assoc., 1965. 230 pp. 15 1/4 × 10 1/2 in. £5. 10. 0.ULSTER DIALECTS. AN INTRODUCTORY SYMPOSIUM. Edited by G. B. Adams, Belfast : Ulster Folk Museum, 1964. 201 pp. 9 1/2 × 6 1/2 in. 20s.ULSTER FOLKLIFE, Volume 11. Belfast: The Ulster Folk Museum, 1965. Pp. 139. 9 1/2 × 7 in. 15s.GEOGRAPHICAL ABSTRACTS published and edited by K. M. Clayton, F. M Yates, F. E. Hamilton and C. Board.Obtainable from Geo. Abstracts, Dept. of Geography, London School of Economics, Aldwych, London, W.C.2. Subscription rates as below.THE CLIMATE OF LONDON. T. J. Chandler. London : Hutchinson and Co., 1965. 292 pp., 86 figs., 93 tables. 70/‐.MONSOON LANDS, Part I, by R. T. Cobb and L. J. M. Coleby. London : University Tutorial Press Ltd., 1966, constituting Book Six (Part 1 ) of the Advanced Level Geography Series. 303 pp. 8 1/4 × 5 1/4 in. 20s.PREHISTORIC AND EARLY CHRISTIAN IRELAND. A GUIDE, by Estyn Evans. London : B. T. Batsford Ltd., 1966. xii + 241 pp. 45s.A REGIONAL GEOGRAPHY OF IRELAND, by G. Fahy. Dublin : Browne and Nolan Ltd. No date. 238 pp. 12s.THE CANALS OF THE SOUTH OF IRELAND, by V. T. H. and D. R. Delany. Newton Abbot : David and Charles, 1966. 260 pp. + 20 plates. 8 1/2 × 5 1/2 in. 50s.THE COURSE OF IRISH HISTORY. Edited by T. W. Moody and F. X. Martin. Cork : The Mercier Press. 1967. 404 pp. 5 3/4 × 7 3/4 ins. Paperback, 21s. Hard cover, 40s.NORTH MUNSTER STUDIES. Edited by E. Rynne. Limerick : The Thomond Archaeological Society, 1967. 535 pp. 63s.SOILS OF COUNTY LIMERICK, by T. F. Finch and Pierce Ryan. Dublin: An Foras Talúntais, 1966. 199 pp. and four fold‐in maps. 9 1/2 × 7 1/4 in. 30s.THE FORESTS OF IRELAND. Edited by H. M. Fitzpatrick. Dublin : Society of Irish Foresters. No date. 153 pp. 9 3/4 × 7 1/4 in. 30s.PLANNING FOR AMENITY AND TOURISM. Specimen Development Plan Manual 2–3, Donegal. Dublin : An Foras Forbartha (The National Institute for Physical Planning and Construction Research), 1966. 110 pp. 8 × 11 in. 12s. 6d.NEW DIMENSIONS IN REGIONAL PLANNING. A CASE STUDY OF IRELAND, by Jeremiah Newman. Dublin : An Foras Forbartha, 1967. 128 pp. 8 1/2 × 6 in. 25s.TRAFFIC PLANNING FOR SMALLER TOWNS. Dublin : An Foras Forbartha (The National Institute for Regional Planning and Construction Research), 1966. 35 pp. 8 1/4 × 10 3/4 in. No price.LATE AND POST‐GLACIAL SHORELINES AND ICE LIMITS IN ARGYLL AND NORTH‐EAST ULSTER, by F. M. Synge and N. Stephens. Institute of British Geographers Transactions No. 59, 1966, pp. 101–125.QUATERNARY CHANGES OF SEA‐LEVEL IN IRELAND, by A. R. Orme. Institute of British Geographers Transactions No. 39, 1966, pp. 127–140.LIMESTONE PAVEMENTS (with special reference to Western Ireland), by Paul W. Williams. Institute of British Geographers Transactions No. 40, 1966, pp. 155–172. 50s. for 198 pages.IRISH SPELEOLOGY. Volume I, No. 2, 1966. Pp. 18. 10 × 8 in. 5s., free to members of the Irish Speleological Association.THE GEOGRAPHER'S CRAFT, by T. W. Freeman. Manchester University Press, 1967. pp.204. 8 1/4 × 5 in. 25s.GEOGRAPHY AS HUMAN ECOLOGY. Edited by S. R. Eyre and G. R. J. Jones. London : Edward Arnold Ltd., 1966. 308 pp. 45s.LOCATIONAL ANALYSIS IN HUMAN GEOGRAPHY, by Peter Haggett. London : Edward Arnold (Publishers) Ltd., 1965. 339 pp. 9 × 5 1/2 in. 40s.AGRICULTURAL GEOGRAPHY, by Leslie Symons. London : G. Bell and Sons, Ltd., 1967. 283 pp. 8 1/2 × 5 1/2 ins. 30s.THE GEOLOGY OF SCOTLAND, edited by Gordon Y. Craig. Edinburgh and London : Oliver & Boyd, 1965. Pp. 556. 9 3/4 × 7 1/2 in. 105s.MORPHOLOGY OF THE EARTH, by Lester C. King. Edinburgh : Oliver and Boyd, 2nd ed., 1967. 726 pp. 9 1/2 × 7 in. £5. 5. 0.INTERNATIONAL YEARBOOK OF CARTOGRAPHY, V, 1965. Edited by Eduard Imhof. London : George Philip and Son Ltd., 1965. 222 pp. + 9 plates. 9 3/4 × 6 1/2 in. 47s. 6d.IRISH FOLK WAYS, by E. Estyn Evans. London : Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1967. 324 pp. 16s.A HISTORY OF MEDIEVAL IRELAND, by A.J.Otway‐Ruthven. London: Ernest Benn Limited. New York : Barnes and Noble Inc., 1968. xv + 454 pp. 70s.IRISH AGRICULTURAL PRODUCTION, ITS VOLUME AND STRUCTURE, by Raymond D. Crotty. Cork University Press, 1966. 384 pp. 42s.PLANNING IN IRELAND. Edited by F. Rogerson and P. O hUiginn. Dublin : The Irish Branch of the Town Planning Institute and An Foras Forbartha, 1907. 199 pp.THE SHELL GUIDE TO IRELAND, by Lord Killanin and Michael V. Duignan. London : Ebury Press and George Rainbird (distributed by Michael Joseph) : 2nd edition, 1967. 512 pp. 50s.THE CLIMATE OF NORTH MUNSTER, by P. K. Rohan. Dublin : Department of Transport and Power, Meteorological Service, 1968. 72 pp. 10s. 6d.SOILS OF COUNTY CARLOW, by M.J. Conry and Pierce Ryan. Dublin : An Foras Talúntais, 1967. 204 pp. and four fold‐in maps. 30s.MOURNE COUNTRY, by E. Estyn Evans. Dundalk : Dundalgan Press (W. Tempest) Ltd., 2nd ed., 1967. 244 pp. 63s.THE DUBLIN REGION. Advisory Plan and Final Report, by Myles Wright. Dublin : The Stationery Office, 1967. Part One, pp. 64. 20s. Part Two, pp. 224. 80s.BELFAST : THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF AN INDUSTRIAL CITY. Edited by J. C. Beckett and R. E. Glasscock. London : The British Broadcasting Corporation, 1967. 204 pp. 25s.REPORT ON SKIBBEREEN SOCIAL SURVEY, by John Jackson. Dublin : Human Sciences Committee of the Irish National Productivity Committee, 1967. 63 pp. 12s. 6d.AN OUTLINE PLAN FOR GALWAY CITY, by Breandan S. MacAodha. Dublin : Scepter Publishers Ltd., 1966. 15 pp.COASTAL PASSENGER STEAMERS AND INLAND NAVIGATIONS IN THE SOUTH OF IRELAND, by D.B. McNeill. Belfast : The Transport Museum (Transport Handbook No. 6), 1965 (issued in 1967). 44 pp. (text) + 12 pp. (plates). 3s. 6d.CANALIANA, the annual bulletin of Robertstown Muintir na Tire. Robertstown, Co. Kildare : Muintir na Tire, n.d. (issued in 1967). 60 pp. 2s. 6d.CONACRE IN IRELAND, by Breandan S. MacAodha (Social Sciences Research Centre, Galway). Dublin : Scepter Publishers Ltd., 1967, 15 pp. No price.PROCESSES OF COASTAL DEVELOPMENT, by V.P. Zenkovich, edited by J.A. Steers, translated by D.G. Fry. 738 pp. Edinburgh and London : Oliver and Boyd, 1967. £12. 12s.CONGRESS PROCEEDINGS. 20th International Geographical Congress. Edited by J. Wreford Watson. London : Nelson, 1967. 401 pp. 70s.REGIONAL GEOGRAPHY, by Roger Minshull. London : Hutchinson University Library, 1967. 168 pp. 10s. 6d.ATMOSPHERE, WEATHER AND CLIMATE, by R.G. Barry and R.J. Chorley. London : University Paperback, Methuen, 1967. 25s.THE EVOLUTION OF SCOTLAND'S SCENERY, by J.B. Sissons. Edinburgh and London : Oliver and Boyd, 1967. 259 pp. 63s.WEST WICKLOW. BACKGROUND FOR DEVELOPMENT, by F.H.A. Aalen, D.A. Gillmor and P.W. Williams. Dublin : Geography Department, Trinity College, 1966. 323 pp. Unpublished : copy available in the Society's Library.

my Reverend Good Sr, since the receit of your last, wherin yow sent me the duplicate of bianchettes Letter, I [word deleted] have written unto yow thereof by your meane att bruxels, which I trust will come to your handes. mr farington and the rest have ben with me of Late. I have shewed them all. they tell me your wauntes shalbe better supplied, but will not have yow returne in any case. I cannot yet gett them to take any thought for sendinge either money or Letters, but are content to Lett that burden still rest upon me. wherin surely I will do to my power, but I dare not give yow my worde for an absolute performance thereof, your six pound to mr heath I have alredie paid by meanes of will[ia]m cape; and now father preston and mr vincent beinge in prison, I have sent them vih xiiis iiiid yf they will take it, for dischardge of our Letters sent by mere helpe. I told my brethren thereof, but they made me no answere how I should be repaied againe. the imprisonment of the two foresaid frendes wilbe a great hinderance. I dare not come at London, because the bishops send out there pursivantes in such nomber that no man can escape, the tyme was never so hard in that respect, but that the Lower house standeth so stifly upon it, it is thought the kinge wold have all the penal Lawes against us in his owne handes, yow shall heare from our brethren as shortly as may be. yt greveth them that thinges go as they do.

The New American Poetry was an anthology engendered by poet Donald M. Allen in 1960. The New Poets of England and America was edited by the poets Donald Hall, Robert Pack, and Louis Simpson just three years prior. These publications, while each claimed to represent a comprehensive review of contemporary poetry, did not apportion a single poet.Academic poets who primarily inscribe in traditional form, influenced by the relishes of T. S. Eliot and Robert Frost, made up The New Poets of England and America. There were popular poets like Richard Wilbur, John Hollander, and Adrienne Affluent. However, Allen's anthology gave the several experimental poets active in the US a platform. He visually perceived these poets as the heirs to the developments made by William Carlos Williams and Ezra Pound.The only ways this new generation's work had antecedently reached its expanding audience were through readings, publication in diminutive magazines, and independent presses. There were poets from the New York School and the San Francisco Renaissance, as well as the Beats, which included Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac. Allen additionally gave a group of writers who were anteriorly hard to relegate a new name: the Black Mountain School of poetry. Charles Olson, Robert Creeley, Denise Levertov, Edward Dorn, Joel Oppenheimer, Paul Blackburn, Jonathan Williams, Paul Carroll, Robert Duncan, and Larry Eigner were among the individuals he delegated to this school. They bore the designation of the ephemeral but illustrious Black Mountain College, whose rector Olson accommodated from 1951 until its dissolution in 1956.

My deere Syr. I hope you wi[l] have me excused that I have not my self written to you this long time for knowing that D. Champney and others have acquainted you with all things that were done at Doway or were otherwise knowne [?] [.] I perswade my self that you wold and will account a letter from ether of us as come from us both as we do your letter unto us. wherfor omitting all other complements. God be thanked we have obtained for our company four hundred crownes yearly of the Clergie of France. our good brethren opp here opposed against us what they could but especially D. Roger whome we leest doubted of and whome we most kindly used ever more. It was told the Bishops that we were Iesu[i]tted men and I in particuler a powder traiter which last sensles and unchristian calumnie is thought to have comen from D. Roger who openly professed that he would ioyne with Ies: against us and he truly ioyned with some of them in calumnies, what this calumnie may hurte me in England I knowe not but here it hath done no harme but to the Author. I was warned of him by letters from Flanders to beware of his malice, but I suspected no such thing in him by reason of his good speeches and frequent visits which now I perceave were a welsh trick. God forgive him. Here is another scruple amongst us[.] For D Bish. wold not have my Coosin Fen of our company albeit he heere [?] comen out of Engl for that purpose and hath bene admitted by oar founder and hath endured a hard years entertain [m]ent with me, And so hath left out his name in the Request to the Clergie and given it unknowne to me. me diinks this is more than needs and I having spent my money time and paines in this matter do look to be acquainted with the affaires therof and not to be wronged ether in my self or my kinsmen, long it were to discourse of all this matter and to shew what exceptions firs[t] for learning then for headines shold be taken against my Coosin.

Books reviewed: China Dore J. Levy, Ideal and Actual in “The Story of the Stone”Gregor Benton (ed and trans), Chen Duxiu's Last Articles and Letters, 1937–1942Eileen Chang, The Rice‐Sprout SongEileen Chang, The Rouge Of The NorthAnne E. Mclaren, Chinese Popular Culture and Ming ChantefablesEdward S. Steinfeld, Forging Reform in China: the Fate of State‐Owned IndustryPeter Conn, Pearl S. Buck: a Cultural BiographyFlemming Christiansen and Zhang Junzuo (eds), Village INC. Chinese Rural Society in the 1990sHarold M. Tanner, Strike Hard! Anti‐Crime Campaigns and Chinese Criminal Justice 1979–1989 Japan, Korea Lonny E. Carlile and Mark C. Tilton (eds), Is Japan Really Changing Its Ways?: regulatory Reform and the Japanese Economy.Peter Katzenstein and Takashi Shiraishi (eds), Network Power: Japan and AsiaBernard Faure, The Red Thread: Buddhist Approaches to Sexuality South, West & Central Asia Vijay Mishra, Devotional Poetics and the Indian SublimeOliver Mendelsohn and Marika Vicziany, The Untouchables: subordination, Poverty and the State in Modern IndiaDonald S. Lopez, Jr, Prisoners of Shangri‐La: Tibetan Buddhism and the WestMelvyn C. Goldstein and Matthew T. Kapstein (eds), Buddhism in Contemporary Tibet, Religious Revival and Cultural IdentityPeter Richardus (ed), Tibetan Lives: three Himalayan AutobiographiesRamakrishna Puligandla, Fundamentals of Indian Philosophy Southeast Asia Paul Hutchcroft, Booty Capitalism: the Politics of Banking in the PhilippinesVedi Hadiz, Workers and the State in New Order IndonesiaPramoedya Ananta Toer, Tales from Djakarta: caricatures of Circumstances and their Human Beings General Asia Yayori Matsui, Women in the New Asia: from Pain to Power

"El arte no es jamás un fin, es sólo un instrumento para trazar líneas de vida"Gilles Deleuze & Felix Guattari (1980)Esperamos que la intención y contenidos de este monográfico que ahora está a la vista, no sugiera una alusión a moda alguna. No nos hemos alinderado en torno a la Paz al hilo de conversaciones, acuerdos, plebiscitos, plazos, disentimientos, etc. Para nuestra facultad, la Paz no es asunto coyuntural, se ha forjado como complemento medular y estructural de reflexiones, investigaciones y procesos de formación que ahora pueden hacerse visibles. Equiparamos Arte y Paz, por considerar el Arte como camino, vemos en él, y en la Educación, la construcción de seres humanos integrales, individuos no fragmentados ni escindidos, con cuerpo, mente y espíritu, capaces de construir ese relato nacional que tanto necesitamos. El Arte es, también, imbricación de sociedades, culturas, territorios y prácticas a modo de sedimentos a los que se supeditan dinámicas de construcción de identidad, representación de colectivos, constitución de subjetividades, producción de formas de ser y habitar en un mundo cada vez más frágil.En tales condiciones vemos la Educación y el Arte como acontecimientos (Deleuze, 2005), en sentido heideggeriano (1997) como “ámbito oscilante, mediante el cual hombre y ser se alcanzan uno a otro y alcanzan lo suyo esencial” (pág. 89), el arte se muestra entonces, como la esencia de ese ser hombre, puede ser eso que nos constituye y hace del arte el ser o ese habitar estético del hombre. El arte como acontecimiento es fundante de nuevos sujetos, por ello es en sí mismo un acto en potencia, imaginémonos entonces, toda la carga simbólica de transformación que él conlleva.Es que Arte, Educación (y la Paz) han de afectar al individuo, le ocasionan ciertas crisis; ¡trastornan! La experiencia educativa comparte con la experiencia estética el efecto de alterar sensibilidades, emociones e intelectos, transformar las subjetividades a propósito de la ruptura creada por el acontecimiento. Como se trata de generar futuro vivible, un escenario cada vez más posible de Paz exige reconfigurar el proyecto educativo de la nación considerando volver a la persona, a la producción de sentido estético de sí, al reconocimiento, la aceptación propia y ajena, la construcción simbólica de la reparación y el acercamiento al Otro. Tener a la vista la Paz es, de suyo, el entorno que nos define como promesa de un futuro posible y escenario de creación factible.El Arte nos recuerda nuestra compleja plasticidad, lo que hace decir a Richard Rorty (1996), uno de los más renombrados filósofos de la actualidad, que no hay humanos paradigmáticos; empero, una educación centrada en la persona y nucleada en torno a procesos estéticos y pacificadores, abrirá compuertas para su constitución. El arte es en sí mismo acontecimiento, y, como la Paz, añade vida a la vida, o si no observemos los efectos estéticos del perdón y la reconciliación en los que volvemos al núcleo vital de la humanidad: el anhelo y la certeza de cambio. En el arte, como la educación y en el perdón: hay trasformación, porque son, ante todo, conmemoración de la vida, acontecimientos confirmativos. Lo decimos en palabras de Mario Perniola (2001) “Para la existencia de lo estético se hace esencial, al menos, la posibilidad del fin de un conflicto, de una paz venidera, de un momento pacificador en el que dolor y lucha se vean, sino definitivamente cesados, sí, al menos, momentáneamente suspendidos”. (p. 194). ReferenciasDeleuze, G. (2005) Lógica del sentido. Barcelona: Paidós.Deleuze, G. & Guattari, F. (1980) Mille Plateaux. Capitalisme et schizofrenia. Paris: Les Ediciones du Minuit.Heidegger, M. (1997). Ser y tiempo. Santiago de Chile: Editorial UniversitariaPerniola, M. (2001) La estética del siglo XX. Madrid: Antonio Machado Libros.Rorty, R. (1996) Contingencia, Ironía y solidaridad. Barcelona: Paidós.

Burke, Mike, Colin Mooers and John Shields, eds. Restructuring and Resistance: Canadian Public Policy in an Age of Global Capitalism. By Grace Skogstad 17Bastien, Frédéric. Relations particulières — La France face au Québec après de Gaulle. Par Christine Bout De L'An 178Nancoo, Stephen E., ed. 21st Century Canadian Diversity. By Jean E. Havel 180Lefebvre, Jean-Paul. Qui profiterait de l'indépendance du Québec? Par Nemer H. N. Ramadan 181Cashore, Benjamin, George Hoberg, Michael Howlett, Jeremy Rayner and Jeremy Wilson. In Search of Sustainability: British Columbia Forest Policy in the 1990s. By Lori Poloni-Staudinger 182Dahl, Jens, Jack Hicks and Peter Jull, eds. Nunavut: Inuit Regain Control of Their Lands and Their Lives. By Gurston Dacks 183Kernaghan, Kenneth, Brian Marson and Sandford Borins. The New Public Organization. By Geoffrey Hale 185Bélanger, Yves, Robert Comeau, François Desrochers et Céline Métivier, sous la direction de. La CUM et la région métropolitaine : l'avenir d'une communauté. Par Martin Éthier 187Moon, Richard. The Constitutional Protection of Freedom of Expression. By Stephen L. Newman 189Brady, David W., John F. Cogan and Morris P. Fiorina, eds. Continuity and Change in House Elections. By L. Sandy Maisel 191Preston, Thomas. The President and His Inner Circle: Leadership Style and the Advisory Process in Foreign Affairs. By Chris Dolan 192Waddell, Brian. The War against the New Deal: World War II and American Democracy. By Bruce Miroff 194Smith, Mark A. American Business and Political Power: Public Opinion, Elections, and Democracy. By Marie Hojnacki 195Connelly, James and Graham Smith. Politics and the Environment: From Theory to Practice. By Inger Weibust 197McGann, James G. and R. Kent Weaver, eds. Think Tanks and Civil Societies: Catalysts for Ideas and Action. By Andrew Rich 198Nobles, Melissa. Shades of Citizenship: Race and the Census in Modern Politics. By Kim Williams 200Alonso, Paula. Between Revolution and the Ballot Box: The Origins of the Argentine Radical Party. By Viviana Patroni 201Lizée, Pierre P. Peace, Power and Resistance in Cambodia: Global Governance and the Failure of International Conflict Resolution; and Peou, Sorpong. Intervention and Change in Cambodia: Towards Democracy? By Irene V. Langran 203Marples, David R. Belarus: A Denationalized Nation. By Alexander Danilovich 206Beiner, Ronald and Wayne Norman, eds. Canadian Political Philosophy: Contemporary Reflections. By Bernard Yack 208Dworkin, Ronald. Sovereign Virtue: The Theory and Practice of Equality. By Colin M. Macleod 210Hurka, Thomas. Virtue, Vice, and Value. By Jason Kawall 212Morris, Martin. Rethinking the Communicative Turn: Adorno, Habermas, and the Problem of Communicative Freedom. By Andollah Payrow Shabani 214O'Sullivan, Noel, ed. Political Theory in Transition. By Cillian Mcbride 215Plant, Raymond. Politics, Theology and History. By James E. Crimmins 217Rynard, Paul and David Shugarman, eds. Cruelty and Deception: The Controversy over Dirty Hands in Politics. By Stewart Hyson 218Sassoon, Anne Showstack. Gramsci and Contemporary Politics: Beyond Pessimism of the Intellect. By Shane Gunster 220Wallach, John R. The Platonic Political Art: A Study of Critical Reason and Democracy. By Gregory Bruce Smith 222Hardt, Michael and Antonio Negri. Empire. By Charles Tilly 224Holden, Barry, ed. Global Democracy: Key Debates. By Kok-Chor Tan 225Boniface, Pascal, sous la direction de. Morale et relations internationales. Par Marie-France Loranger 227Jackson, Robert H. The Global Covenant: Human Conduct in a World of States. By Roger Epp 229

The compulsion to work has clearly become pathological in modern industrial societies. Millions of people are working long hours, devoting their lives to making or doing things that will not enrich their lives or make them happier but will add to the garbage and pollution that the earth is finding difficult to accommodate. They are so busy doing this that they have little time to spend with their family and friends, to develop other aspects of themselves, to participate in their communities as full citizens. Unless the work/consume treadmill is overcome there is little hope for the planet. The work ethic, and the corresponding respect accorded to those who accumulate wealth, are socially constructed but rapidly becoming dysfunctional for social and environmental welfare. Much has been written about the role of Protestant preachers in the rise of the work ethic but the continued reinforcement of a secular work ethic owes much to literature, particularly self-help books and children's literature of the nineteenth century, which promoted work as a route to success and a sign of good character. In the centuries following the Protestant reformation the emphasis on work as a religious calling was gradually superseded by a materialistic quest for social mobility and material success. This success-oriented work ethic encouraged ambition, hard work, self-reliance, and self-discipline and held out the promise that such effort would be materially rewarded. Through example and reiteration, the myth that any man, no matter what his origins, could become rich if he tried hard enough became firmly established. The self-made man owed his advancement to habits of industry, sobriety, moderation, self-discipline, and avoidance of debt (Beder). In early America the middle classes "controlled the major institutions of social influence" the schools, churches, factories, political offices and publishing companies and used them to propagate work values (Cherrington 32-3). Their children learned the value of hard work from their parents and this was reinforced by school teachers, classroom readers and popular books. Benjamin Franklin was one of the best-known early propagators of work values. Poor Richard and Franklin's autobiography sold millions of copies at the time and was translated into many languages for sale abroad. In his books he urged thrift, industry, pursuit of money and hard work. "Newspapers, books, interviews, speeches, and literature abounded with praise of the successful who had made it on their own" (Bernstein 141). Success was defined in terms of doing well in business and making lots of money. Owning one's own business was supposed to be a route to success that was open to all, as Abraham Lincoln explained in an 1861 speech to Congress: "The prudent, penniless beginner in the world, labors for wages awhile, saves a surplus with which to buy tools or land for himself, then labors on his own account for awhile, and at length hires another new beginner to help him. This is a just, and generous, and prosperous system; which opens the way to all gives hope to all, and consequent energy and progress, and improvement of conditions to all." (qtd. in Chinoy 4) The earliest textbooks published in America promoted work values as part of good character and the formula to success. These included the Peter Parley books first published by Samuel Goodrich during the 1820s and 30s (Peter Parley was a pseudonym). Goodrich wrote some 150 children's books beginning with Tales of Peter Parley about America. The Parley books covered geography, history, commerce and even mathematics. McGuffey's Eclectic Readers were the standard English textbooks in American schools from 1830s through to 1920s. They were first published in 1836 and became perhaps the most widely read children's books in the 19th century with 122 million copies of the six readers sold to an estimated four fifths of US school children (Cherrington 36). American children learned to read and write using these books, which also taught middle-class values including the work ethic and success through hard work: "Work, work, my boy, be not afraid; Look labor boldly in the face" (qtd. in Bernstein 161). They are again being promoted today by conservative groups in the US (see for example http://www.liberty-tree.org/ltn/mcguffeys-reader.html and http://www.aobs-store.com/reviews/mcguffey.htm). American story books also taught work values. Horatio Alger (1832-99) was one of the most prolific American writers. He wrote some 130 books that taught work values to young boys. Twenty million copies of Alger's books were sold with titles such as Strive and Succeed, Ragged Dick, Mark the Matchboy, Risen from the Ranks, Bound to Rise. They typically told of poor boys who became self-made men through their own efforts and perseverance. In the twentieth century children continued to learn at school about how various successful businessmen had started from humble origins. From the 1940s the American Schools and Colleges Association presented an annual "Horatio Alger Award" to businessmen whose "rise to success symbolizes the tradition of starting from scratch under our system of free competitive enterprise" (Chinoy 1) and there are still a range of Alger associations and awards current today (see for example http://www.ihot.com/~has/ and http://www.horatioalger.com/). Self-help books supplemented fiction in showing the way to success. Books at the turn of the 20th century with names such as The Conquest of Poverty, Pushing to the Front, Success under Difficulty, all preached the message of how any motivated, hard-working individual could overcome life's obstacles. Work as a route to success was also promoted in Britain in books, newspapers and official reports. Workers were urged to work hard towards success, to be independent and raise themselves above their lowly stations in life through saving, striving, and industriousness. Nineteenth century organisations such as the Bettering Society promoted thrift and self-improvement and criticised measures to aid the poor (Roach 69). Samuel Smiles was one of the foremost advocates of "the spirit of self-help". His 1859 book Self-Help argued: "In many walks of life drudgery and toil must be cheerfully endured as the necessary discipline of life... He who allows his application to falter, or shirks his work on frivolous pretexts, is on the sure road to ultimate failure... even men with the commonest brains and the most slender powers will accomplish much..." (qtd. in Ward 22-3) The myth of the self-made man was also evident in popular music hall songs in the 19th century, such as Work Boys Work by Harry Clifton (1824-1872): ...labour leads to wealth and will keep you in good health, so its best to be contented with your lot. Whilst it was true that some of the early English manufacturers started off as workers themselves, they tended to come from the middle classes and as time went by the opportunity for working people to become capitalists were reduced as the income gap between capitalists and workers broadened. In fact the much publicised gospel of improvement and self-help served only to obscure the very limited prospects and achievements of the self-made men within early and later Victorian society, and investigations of the steel and hosiery industries, for instance, have shown how little recruitment occurred from the ranks of the workers to those of the entrepreneurs. (Thomis 86) However, there were enough oft-repeated stories of individuals moving from poverty to wealth to keep alive, at least in the minds of the well-to-do, the idea that hard work could lead from rags-to-riches, despite this not being the case for the vast majority of people who were born in poverty and died in poverty after a life time of hard work (Furnham 198). In this way the affluent were able to feel comfortable about poverty in their midst, blaming it on individual weakness rather than societal failings. In Britain, as in America, the myth of the self-made man persisted in children's literature into the twentieth century. Academic Philip Cohen noted: When I was growing up in the early 1950s it was still possible to get given 'improving books' for one's birthday, consisting of biographies of self-made men, engineers, inventors, industrialists, entrepreneurs, philanthropists and the like. These men, and they were all men, had usually lived in the 'heroic' age of nineteenth-century capitalism and the books themselves were clearly prepared for the edification of the young. (Cohen 61) The contemporary reception by audiences of the texts discussed in this article is unknown. In particular, the degree to which children were able to resist the none too subtle moral lessons contained in their texts and stories is a question requiring empirical research that has yet to be carried out. However, it is evident that the promotion of the work ethic has been a successful enterprise and this article has shown that 19thcentury books played an active part in that. Although not everyone subscribes to the work ethic today, the myth of the self-made man remains a myth in most English speaking countries, even though the disparities between rich and poor are widening and it is becoming more and more difficult for the poor to become rich through talent, effort and opportunities. Despite the dysfunctionality of the work ethic it continues to be promoted and praised, accepted and acquiesced to. It is one of the least challenged aspects of industrial culture. Yet it is based on myths and fallacies which provide legitimacy for gross social inequalities. If we are to protect the planet and our social health we need to find new ways of judging and valuing each other which are not work and income dependent. References Beder, Sharon. Selling the Work Ethic: From puritan pulpit to corporate PR. London: Zed Books, 2000. Bernstein, Paul. American Work Values: Their Origin and Development. Albany, NY: State U of New York P, 1997. Cherrington, David J. The Work Ethic: Working Values and Values that Work. New York: AMACON, 1980. Chinoy, Ely. Automobile Workers and the American Dream. 2nd ed. Urbana and Chicago: U of Illinois P, 1992. Cohen, Philip. "Teaching Enterprise Culture: Individualism, Vocationalism and the New Right." The Social Effects of Free Market Policies: An International Text. Ed. Ian Taylor. New York: Harvester Wheatsheaf, 1990. 49-91. Furnham, Adrian. The Protestant Work Ethic: The Psychology of Work-Related Beliefs and Behaviours. London: Routledge, 1990. Roach, John. Social Reform in England 1780-1880. London: B T. Batsford, 1978. Thomis, Malcolm I. The Town Labourer and the Industrial Revolution. London: B.T.Batsford, 1974. Ward, J. T. The Age of Change 1770-1870. London: A&C Black, 1975. Links http://www.horatioalger.com/ http://www.aobs-store.com/reviews/mcguffey.htm http://www.ihot.com/~has/ http://www.liberty-tree.org/ltn/mcguffeys-reader.html Citation reference for this article MLA Style Beder, Sharon. "The Promotion of a Secular Work Ethic" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 4.5 (2001). [your date of access] < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0111/Beder.xml >. Chicago Style Beder, Sharon, "The Promotion of a Secular Work Ethic" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 4, no. 5 (2001), < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0111/Beder.xml > ([your date of access]). APA Style Beder, Sharon. (2001) The Promotion of a Secular Work Ethic. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 4(5). < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0111/Beder.xml > ([your date of access]).

Reality TV has emerged as a visible site for contemporary debates over modern fame. In fact, while issues of ‘taste’ and cultural value have long since shaped conceptions of celebrity (Turner, Bonner, Marshall 178), the issue of fame has played a central role in the negative cultural criticisms of Reality TV. Reality programming is often invoked as short-hand to illustrate the moral ills of contemporary fame – as if it has somehow swept away the certainties of ‘the past’ where discourses of public recognition, visibility and reward are concerned. In exploring Reality TV as a site of contemporary fame, I examine here some of these claims to ‘transformation’, not so much to defend the form’s participation in celebrity culture, as to indicate that there is more going on here than these (increasingly familiar) critiques appear to suggest. We can note, for example, their tendency to simplify the history of fame (which of course then makes it far easier to situate Reality TV as a conclusive break with the past). Equally, these criticisms seem of limited use when it comes to considering what is clearly a broader cultural fascination with fame in Reality TV. Furthermore, such critiques tend to operate at a very general level, often paying little attention to how fame is actually articulated in Reality TV, and the possibilities of differences between formats. The period 2000-1 saw a number of global reality game shows emerge in the UK and elsewhere and in general terms, critics often foregrounded fame as part of a broader negative response to the use of factual programming as primarily entertainment. The pervasive screen examples of ‘would-be presenters’ or ‘wannabe models’ were invoked as antithetical to perceptions of factual programming’s traditionally more ‘worthy’ (and implicitly public service) agenda (Holmes, “All”). But in the context of fame, it is more appropriate to suggest that a number of critical positions on Reality TV have emerged. For example, in what is probably the most prevalent perspective in circulation, contestants have persistently been constructed as exemplifying, and in many ways accelerating, a shift toward a fame culture in which an emphasis on ‘famous for being famous’ has regrettably triumphed over the concepts of ‘talent’ and ‘hard work’ (Holmes, “All”) (even though this perspective is clearly far from new) (see Marshall 9-11). Second, and related to the emphasis on ‘undeserved’ fame above, has been a position which foregrounds the prominence of falsity and manufacture. Here, Reality TV contestants are seen as falling victim to the manipulative powers of a ruthless fame-making machine. Often yoked to an emphasis on the ephemeral nature of their celebrity, here we encounter cautionary tales about the price of public visibility and the lure of immediate wealth, a penalty when, as one programme put it, ‘instant television fame is over in a dream’ (Tonight with Trevor McDonald, ITV1, 13 Feb. 2004). In contrast, the centrality of the ‘ordinary’ person turned celebrity has been read in terms of democratisation, both in relation to access to the televisual airwaves (a position championed by broadcasters and producers, for example) (Bazalgette) and to the dynamics of public/ media visibility itself (see Biressi and Nunn). These positions clearly intersect, their distinctions largely inflected by the perspective of the observer. For example, what is the producer’s claim to ‘democratisation’ is the critic’s class-based distaste for all these ‘awful ordinary’ people on television (see Bazalgette). While each of these positions is limited and simplistic, collectively they do speak to changing cultural conceptions of fame. Joshua’s Gamson’s (Claims, “Assembly”) work in particular has usefully suggested a picture in which certain positions on, or ‘explanations of fame’, have had a historical significance in vying for cultural visibility (although the contours of these narratives must be swiftly drawn here). With the growth of the arts and technologies and the establishment of celebrity as a mass phenomenon (see Gamson, “Assembly” 261), public visibility became increasingly detached from aristocratic standing, with discourses of democracy – as epitomised by the American context – increasingly coming to the fore. With the Hollywood studio system representing celebrity’s later period of industrialisation, and with a controlled production system producing celebrities for a mass audience, the earlier theme of ‘greatness’ became muted into questions of ‘star quality’ and ‘talent’ (Gamson, “Assembly” 264). While the focus may now have been predominantly on the culture of the ‘personality’, Gamson argues that the primary narrative was still one of ‘natural’ rise (“Assembly” 264). However, what is crucial here is that the increasing visibility of the publicity machine itself gradually began to pose a threat to this myth. Shaped by industrial and cultural shifts such as the decline of the Hollywood studio system and the emergence of television, as well as the increasing growth of celebrity journalism, the second half of the 20th century witnessed the increasing prevalence of the ‘manufacture’ discourse, where it henceforth becomes what Gamson describes as a ‘serious contender’ in explaining celebrity (Claims 44). This is not to suggest that the older ideological myths of fame are entirely obscured but rather that, perhaps as never before, the two positions precariously jostle for visibility in the same space. Indeed, Gamson suggests that by the late 20th century, it was possible to discern strategies intended to ‘cope’ with the increasing potential for disjuncture here. In particular, he points toward the twin devices of the ‘exposure’ of the process and the construction of an ironic and mocking perspective on celebrity culture, both of which can be seen to offer the audience a flattering position of power (Claims 276). In many ways, Reality TV would appear to be paradigmatic of these discursive shifts in fame. While I emphasise the specificity of particular formats below, Reality TV in the form of Big Brother, Pop Idol or celebrity-reality shows (such as I’m a Celebrity… Get Me Out of Here!), have made a particular claim to ‘reveal’ or ‘expose’ the process of fame construction – whether in terms of following ‘ordinary’ hopefuls from the audition stages to their entrance into the media world, or by claiming to offer us an unprecedented ‘access’ to existing celebrities (‘stripping’ away the celebrity façade). (While of course what Richard Dyer termed ‘the negotiation of authenticity’, or the bid to think in terms of ‘really’, has long since structured the textual mediation of celebrity, it can conceivably be seen to have witnessed an accelerated shift in these contexts.) Equally, in terms of the decline of older myths of fame, these shows exhibit a self-conscious acknowledgement of the process of image production and construction, and the use of celebrity for commercial purposes. Lastly, in mediating the threat of the manufacture discourse, they evidently speak quite explicitly to an emphasis on the ‘power’ of the audience given that, through the now familiar use of interactivity (see Holmes, “But”), they construct the audience as operating as the ultimate creator of the celebrity. This already begins to indicate how, responding to and participating in particular discursive shifts in fame, Reality TV negotiates contemporary discourses on celebrity in complex and contradictory ways. Yet this would also need to acknowledge the differences and specificities of particular formats. For example, Big Brother may well be invoked as the ultimate example of the decline of older myths of fame. The programme does not suggest that a special ‘talent’, or ‘hard work’, are necessary for fame. Indeed, time in the house is clearly organised around an excess of leisured time in which, as the primary antidotes to boredom, eating, sleeping and sunbathing are repetitiously played out before the camera’s gaze. Contestants talk self-consciously about being ‘produced’ as celebrities while in the house (in terms of the programme and wider press coverage), with the understanding that each other’s behaviour and self-presentation is clearly directed to this end. The highly opportunistic and potentially calculating conception of fame is thus self-consciously displayed in the programme itself. In comparison, drawing on the older genre of the TV talent show, the Reality pop programmes such as Popstars (2001, UK), Pop Idol (2001-2, 2003, UK), Fame Academy (2002, 2003, UK) and most recently, The X-Factor (2004, UK) are more explicitly configured around the ‘search’ for a star. In this respect, they are specifically concerned with dramatising a power relationship between music industry and audience, a dialogue which is mapped onto the narrative of the star-making process. Certainly, on one level, they are self-consciously a product of the manufacture era of fame, produced for the scrutiny of a media-aware audience entirely conversant with the concept of ‘image’ construction. In tracking the contestants through auditions, training and re-styling, we witness the open production of the famous self – often trying on different ‘images’ week by week – and the ideological constraints (such as those pertaining to body image or physical appearance) under which this process must take place. The judges equally claim to be representative articulations of the ‘reality’ of the business by foregrounding the importance of image ‘packaging’ and the selling of the self. (As the notoriously ‘nasty’ judge Simon Cowell explains in one edition of Pop Idol, ‘Ten year old girls in Hull have to want to be you… They have to buy into the “image”. Do you see?’) (12 Sep. 2003). In short, they often boldly foreground the capitalistic nature of celebrity production. But at the same time, these programmes clearly draw upon, and arguably engage the audience by, much articulating older myths of fame. Given that, in Gamson’s terms, the pervasive nature of the manufacture discourse ultimately represents a threat to the commercial enterprise of celebrity, these shows provide exemplary evidence of the ways in which the two claims-to-fame stories continue to jostle for cultural legitimacy. Celebrating a mythic emphasis on a unique, authentic and gifted self, there is a persistent bid to lay claim to an indefinable sense of ‘specialness’. Indeed, the phrases ‘you’ve got “star quality” or the “X factor” have become an increasingly self-conscious convention in the shows themselves – as suggested by the naming of the most recent UK format, The X-Factor. In their emphasis on ‘ordinariness’, ‘lucky breaks’, ‘specialness’ and ‘hard work’, they are paradigmatic of the meritocratic ideology of the ‘access myth’ (Dyer, Stars). As Fame Academy’s singing coach Carrie Grant gravely tells the contestants: ‘The only place where “success” comes before work is in the dictionary’ (14 Dec. 2002). In this respect, without the irony or humour that has become such a pervasive aspect of contemporary celebrity coverage (see Gamson, Claims, “Assembly”), the programmes clearly also re-peddle traditional explanations of fame for contemporary cultural consumption (Holmes, “Reality”). Dismissals of these programmes in terms of their promotion of ‘manufactured pop’ ignore the fact that ‘authenticity’ is not really configured around the music itself. Pop music (and particularly TV pop) has historically been configured as ‘the most inauthentic music’ (Moore 220), whether in terms of industrial production, form/ sound, or artist expression and identity. But in many ways the programmes openly acknowledge the derivative and packaged nature of ‘pop’. The aspirant pop stars often sing cover versions on the shows (although they are valued and praised for inserting their ‘individual’ style), and in Pop Idol we witness each of the three finalists record the winning song in the studio prior to the result of the (live) television vote. In this respect, evoking Adorno’s famous critique of popular music’s standardised form, their voice is a cog in a wider machine – a component part which can be substituted and exchanged. But Reality TV’s serial form, aesthetic style and pursuit of ‘the real’, asks us to buy into the authenticity of the self, that the participants are – despite the image packaging – somehow the same person that auditioned at the start. There is often equally the suggestion that Reality TV may bring out the ‘real’, ‘special’ self that was partly inside all along: As one contestant in Fame Academy is chastised after a live performance: ‘We’ve had you showing that you can be Westlife or Bryan Adams, but have we had Barry yet? Where, Barry, is the “Barryness” of Barry?’ (19 Sep. 2003). But in broad terms, with factory workers, waitresses or train drivers turning into superstars, contestants are often imagined as being more ‘authentic’ because of their class background, something which has historically been conceived to signify ‘ordinariness’ within narratives of fame. This is again paradigmatic of the older, traditional discourse of the success myth (and its close companion, the American Dream) (Dyer, Stars). In the Reality format, this is also factored though the sense that we have ‘known’ them in the moment of authentic ‘pre-fame’, when, in short, they were ‘just like us’. In the context of his wider argument that stars work to articulate ideas of personhood or selfhood (Dyer, Stars), one of Richard Dyer’s key interventions was to suggest that stars function to work through discourses of individualism (see also Marshall). Working from a broadly Marxist perspective, he explained how the perpetual attempt to negotiate authenticity in the star image worked to promote a particular concept of personhood on which capitalist society depends. Dyer conceptualised this as ‘a separable, coherent quality, located “inside” consciousness and variously termed “the self”, “the soul”, “the subject”…’ (9). Although, in the context of contemporary celebrity culture and the discourses of postmodernism, Dyer’s model of the self has been critiqued and challenged (see Lovell, King), it by no means seems redundant here. We are absolutely encouraged to seek out, recognise, and believe in, the ‘inner’ self in Reality TV, while the highly performative and mediated context of the form makes this quest more paradoxical than ever. In fact, while programmes such as Big Brother and Pop Idol may display significantly different discourses on, or explanations of fame, this ideology of selfhood permeates much of Reality TV. While in Big Brother there is much self-reflexive and dizzying discussion of ‘who is being their real selves? Who is simply playing up for the camera?’, we are asked to judge the contestants (and they are asked to judge each other), precisely by this criteria of ‘authenticity’. We only need note that – from Big Brother, the pop programmes to the celebrity-reality shows – winners are often chosen and applauded because they are seen to have been the most ‘true’ to themselves. Again, despite the self-reflexive and performative context of Reality TV, this suggests highly conservative ideologies of selfhood and individualism. As Dyer reminds us, we have historically valued stars who appear to ‘bear witness to the continuousness of their own selves’, given that ‘sincerity and authenticity are two qualities greatly prized in stars’ (11). While it is not my intention to make assumptions about audience reading strategies here, it is worth noting that existing audience research (Hill, Jones) into Reality TV has emphasised how viewers indeed obtain satisfaction from the search for ‘the real’ in Reality TV, and from actively negotiating the tensions between construction, performance and authenticity. Annette Hill describes how the ‘game’ is ‘to find the “truth” in the spectacle/performance environment’ (337), and as this quote implies, this is far from suggesting that audiences have given up on the idea of ‘the real’ in Reality TV (Hill, Jones). The primary site on which this is played out is the representation of the self – an arena which stardom and celebrity has historically placed centre stage (Dyer, Marshall). As this suggests, then, the two fields have much to discuss. While I have only touched briefly on the detail of the formats here, this discussion emphasises how Reality TV demands closer consideration in the context of claims suggesting its ‘transformation’ of celebrity. Its position with a longer history of fame, the specificities of particular formats, and the ideological parameters in which they function, all question any simple or homogenous interpretation of its impact on celebrity culture. References Adorno, Theodor. “On Popular Music.” 1941. On Record: Rock, Pop and the Written Word. Eds. Simon Frith and Andrew Goodwin. London: Routledge, 1990. 22-38. Bazalgette, Peter. “Big Brother and Beyond.” Television (Oct. 2001): 20-3. Biressi, Anita, and Heather Nunn “The Especially Remarkable: Celebrity and Social Mobility in Reality TV.” Mediactive 2 (2004): 44-58. Dyer, Richard. Stars. London: BFI, 1979 (reprinted 1998). Dyer, Richard. Heavenly Bodies: Film Stars and Society. London: BFI, 1986. Gamson, Joshua. Claims to Fame: Celebrity in Contemporary America. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994. Gamson, Joshua. “The Assembly Line of Greatness: Celebrity in Twentieth-Century America.” Popular Culture: Production and Consumption. Eds. C. Lee Harrington and Denise D. Bielby. Oxford: Blackwell, 2001. 259-82. Hill, Annette “Big Brother: The Real Audience.” Television and New Media 3.3 (2002): 323-41. Holmes, Su. “’All You’ve Got to Worry about Is Having a Cup of Tea and Doing a Bit of Sunbathing…’: Approaching Celebrity in Big Brother.” Understanding Reality TV. Eds. Su Holmes and Deborah Jermyn. London: Routledge, 2004. 111-35. Holmes, Su. “But This Time You Choose!: Approaching the Interactive Audience of Reality TV.” International Journal of Cultural Studies 7.2 (2004): 213-31. Holmes, Su. “Reality Goes Pop!: Reality TV, Popular Music and Narratives of Stardom in Pop Idol.” Television and New Media 5.2 (2004): 147-72. Jones, Janet. “Show Your Real Face: A Fan Study of the UK Big Brother Transmissions (2000, 2001, 2002).” New Media and Society 5.3 (2003): 400-21. King, Barry. “Embodying an Elastic Self: The Parametrics of Contemporary Stardom.” Contemporary Hollywood Stardom. Eds. Thomas Austin and Martin Barker. London: Arnold, 2003. 29-44. Lovell, Alan. “I Went in Search of Deborah Kerr, Jodie Foster and Julianne Moore But Got Waylaid…” Contemporary Hollywood Stardom. Eds. Thomas Austin and Martin Barker. London: Arnold, 2003. 259-70. Marshall, P. David. Celebrity and Power: Fame in Contemporary Culture. Minnesota: U of Minnesota P, 1997. Turner, Graeme, Frances Bonner, and P. David Marshall. Fame Games: The Production of Celebrity in Australia. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2000. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Holmes, Susan. "'The Only Place Where ''Success'' Comes before ''Work'' Is in the Dictionary...?': Conceptualising Fame in Reality TV." M/C Journal 7.5 (2004). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0411/07-holmes.php>. APA Style Holmes, S. (Nov. 2004) "'The Only Place Where ''Success'' Comes before ''Work'' Is in the Dictionary...?': Conceptualising Fame in Reality TV," M/C Journal, 7(5). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0411/07-holmes.php>.

Introduction Fashion has long been associated with resistance movements across Asia and Australia, from the hand-spun cotton Khadi of Mahatma Gandhi’s freedom struggle to the traditional ankle length robe worn by Tibetans in the ‘White Wednesday Movement’ (Singh et al.; Yangzom). There are many reasons why fashion and activism have been interlinked. Fashion can serve as a form of nonverbal communication (Crane), which can convey activists’ grievances and concerns while symbolising solidarity (Doerr). It can provide an avenue to enact individual agency against repressive, authoritarian regimes (Yangzom; Doerr et al.). Fashion can codify a degree of uniformity within groups and thereby signal social identity (Craik), while also providing a means of building community (Barry and Drak). Fashion, therefore, offers activists the opportunity to develop the three characteristics which unite a social or environmental movement: a shared concern about an issue, a sense of social identity, and connections between individuals and groups. But while these fashion functions map onto movement characteristics, it remains unclear whether activists across the world deliberately include fashion into their protest action repertoires. This uncertainty exists partly because of a research and media focus on large scale, mass protests (Lester and Hutchins), where fashion characteristics are immediately visible and amenable to retrospective interpretation. This focus helps explain the rich volume of research examining the manifestation of fashion in past protests, such as the black, red, and yellow colours worn during the 1988 Aboriginal Long March of Freedom, Justice, and Hope (Maynard Dress; Coghlan), and the pink anti-Trump ‘pussyhats’ (Thompson). However, the protest events used to identify these fashion characteristics are a relatively small proportion of actions used by environmental activists (Dalton et al.; Gulliver et al.), which include not only rallies and marches, but also information evenings, letter writing sessions, and eco-activities such as tree plantings. This article aims to respond to Barnard’s (Looking) call for more empirical work on what contemporary cultural groups visually do with what they wear (see also Gerbaudo and Treré) via a content analysis of 36,676 events promoted on Facebook by 728 Australian environmental groups between 2010 and 2019. The article firstly reports findings from an analysis of this dataset to identify how fashion manifests in environmental activism, building on research demonstrating the role of protest-related nonverbal communications, such as protest signage (Bloomfield and Doolin), images (Kim), and icons, slogans, and logos (Goodnow). The article then considers what activists may seek to achieve through incorporating fashion into their action repertoire, and whether this suggests solidarity with activists seeking to effect environmental change across the wider Asian region. Fashion Activism Fashion is created through a particular assemblage of clothes, accessories, and hairstyles (Barry and Drak), which in turn forms a prevailing custom or style of dress (Craik). It is a cultural practice, providing ‘real estate’ (Benda 7) for an individual to express their social roles (Craik) and political identity (Behnke). Some scholars argue that fashion became overtly political during the 1960s and 70s, as social movements politicised appearance (Edwards). This has only increased in relevance with the rise of far right, populist, and authoritarian regimes, whose sub-cultures enact politicised identities through their distinct fashion characteristics (Gaugele and Titton; Gaugele). Fashion can therefore play an important role in protest movements, as “political subjectivities, political authority, political power and discipline are rendered visible, and thereby real, by the way fashion co-establishes them” (Behnke 3). Across the literature scholars have identified two primary avenues by which fashion and activism are connected. The first of these relates to activism targeting the fashion industry. This type of activism is found in both Asia and Australia, and promotes sustainable consumption choices such as buying used goods and transforming existing items (Chung and Yim), as well as highlighting garment worker exploitation within the fashion industry (Khan and Richards). The second avenue is called ‘fashion activism’: the use of fashion to intentionally signal a message seeking to evoke social and/or political change (Thompson). In this conceptualisation, clothing is used to signify a particular message (Crane). An example of this type of fashion activism is the ‘SlutWalk’, a protest where participants deliberately wore outfits described as slutty or revealing as a response to victim-blaming of women who had experienced sexual assault (Thompson). A key element of fashion activism thus appears to be its message intentionality. Clothes are specifically utilised to convey a message, such as a grievance about victim-blaming, which can then be incorporated into design features displayed on t-shirts, pins, and signs both on the runway and in protest events (Titton). However, while this ‘sender/receiver’ model of fashion communication (Barnard, Fashion as) can be compelling for activists, it is complex in practice. A message receiver can never have full knowledge of what message the sender seeks to signify through a particular clothing item, nor can the message sender predict how a receiver will interpret that message. Particular arrangements of clothing only hold communicative power when they are easily interpreted and related to the movement and its message, usually only intelligible to a specific culture or subculture (Goodnow). Even within that subculture it remains problematic to infer a message from a particular style of dress, as demonstrated in examples where dress is used to imply sexual consent; for example, in rape and assault cases (Lennon et al.). Given the challenges of interpreting fashion, do activists appear to use the ‘real estate’ (Benda 7) afforded by it as a protest tool? To investigate this question a pre-existing dataset of 36,676 events was analysed to ascertain if, and how, environmental activism engages with fashion (a detailed methodology is available on the OSF). Across this dataset, event categories, titles, and descriptions were reviewed to collate events connecting environmental activism to fashion. Three categories of events were found and are discussed in the next section: street theatre, sustainable fashion practices, and disruptive protest. Street Theatre Street theatre is a form of entertainment which uses public performance to raise awareness of injustices and build support for collective action (Houston and Pulido). It uses costumes as a vehicle for conveying messages about political issues and for making demands visible, and has been utilised by protesters across Australia and Asia (Roces). Many examples of street theatre were found in the dataset. For example, Extinction Rebellion (XR) consistently promoted street theatre events via sub-groups such as the ‘Red Rebels’ – a dedicated team of volunteers specialising in costumed street theatre – as well as by inviting supporters to participate in open street theatre events, such as in the ‘Halloween Dead Things Disco’. Dressed as spooky skeletons (doot, doot) and ghosts, we'll slide and shimmy down Sydney's streets in a supernatural style, as we bring attention to all the species claimed by the Sixth Mass Extinction. These street theatre events appeared to prioritise spectacle rather than disruption as a means to attract attention to their message. The Cairns and Far North Environment Centre ‘Climate Action Float’, for example, requested that attendees: Wear blue and gold or dress as your favourite reef animal, solar panel, maybe even the sun itself!? Reef & Solar // Blue & Gold is the guiding theme but we want your creativity take it from there. Most groups used street theatre as one of a range of different actions organised across a period of time. However, Climacts, a performance collective which uses ‘spectacle and satire to communicate the urgency of the climate and biodiversity crisis’ (Climacts), utilised this tactic exclusively. Their Climate Guardians collective used distinctive angel costumes to perform at the Climate Conference of Parties 26, and in various places around Australia (see images on their Website). Fig. 1: Costumed protest against Downer EDI's proposed work on the Adani coalmine; Image by John Englart (CC BY-SA 2.0). Sustainable Fashion Practices The second most common type of event which connected fashion with activism were those promoting sustainable fashion practices. While much research has highlighted the role of activism in raising awareness of problems related to the fashion industry (e.g. Hirscher), groups in the dataset were primarily focussed on organising activities where supporters communally created their own fashion items. The most common of these was the ‘crafternoon’, with over 260 separate crafternoon events identified in the dataset. These events brought activists together to create protest-related kit such as banners, signs, and costumes from recycled or repurposed materials, as demonstrated by Hume Climate Action Now’s ‘Crafternoon for Climate’ event: Come along on Sunday arvo for a relaxed arvo making posters and banners for upcoming Hume Climate Action Now events… Bring: Paints, textas, cardboard, fabric – whatever you’ve got lying around. Don’t have anything? That’s cool, just bring yourself. Events highlighting fashion industry problems were less frequent and tended to prioritise sharing of information about the fashion industry rather than promoting protests. For example, Transition Town Vincent held a ‘Slowing Down Fast Fashion – Transition Town Vincent Movie Night’ while the Green Embassy promoted the ‘Eco Fashion Week’. This event, held in 2017, was described as Australia’s only eco-fashion week, and included runway shows, music, and public talks. Other events also focussed on public talks, such as a Conservation Council of ACT event called ‘Green Drinks Canberra October 2017: Summer Edwards on the fashion industry’ and a panel discussion organised by a group called SEE-Change entitled ‘The Sustainable Wardrobe’. Disruptive Protest and T-Shirts Few events in the dataset mentioned elements of fashion outside of street theatre or sustainable fashion practices, with only one organisation explicitly connecting fashion with activism in its event details. This group – Australian Youth Climate Coalition – organised an event called ‘Activism in Fashion: Tote Bags, T-shirts and Poster Painting!’, which asked: How can we consistently be involved in campaigning while life can be so busy? Can we still be loud and get a message across without saying a word? The iconic 21st century activist "t-shirt and tote-bag" combination is hard to miss these days! Unlike street theatre and sustainable fashion practices, fashion appeared to be a consideration for only a small number of disruptive protests promoted by environmental groups in Australia. XR Brisbane sought to organise a fashion parade during the 2019 Rebellion Week, while XR protesters in Melbourne stripped down to underwear for a march through Melbourne city arcades (see also Turbet). Few common fashion elements appeared consistently on individual activists participating in events, and these were limited to accessories, such as ‘Stop Adani’ earrings, or t-shirts sold for fundraising and promotional purposes. Indeed, t-shirts appeared to be the most promoted clothing item in the dataset, continuing a long tradition of their use in protests (e.g. Maynard, Blankets). Easy to create, suitable for displaying both text and imagery, t-shirts sharing anti-coal messages featured predominantly in the Stop Adani campaign, while yellow t-shirts were a common item in Knitting Nanna’s anti-coal seam gas mining protests. Fig. 2: Stop Adani earrings and t-shirts; Image by John Englart (CC BY-SA 2.0). The Role of Fashion in Environmental Activism As these findings demonstrate, fashion appears to be deliberately utilised in environmental activism primarily through street theatre and the promotion of sustainable fashion practices. While fewer examples of fashion in disruptive protest were found and no consistent fashion assemblage was identified, accessories and t-shirts were utilised by many groups. What may activists be seeking to achieve through incorporating fashion via street theatre and sustainable fashion practices? Some scholars have argued that incorporating fashion into protest allows activists to signal political dissent against authoritarian control. For example, Yanzoom noted that by utilising fashion as a means of communication, Tibetan activists were able to embody their political goals despite repression of speech and movement by political powerholders. However, a consistent fashion repertoire across protests in this Australian dataset was not found. The opportunities afforded by protected protest rights in Australia and absence of violent police repression of disruptive protests may be one explanation why distinctive dress such as the masks and black attire of Hong Kong pro-democracy protesters did not manifest in the dataset. Other scholars have observed that fashion sub-cultures also developed partly to express anti-establishment politics, such as the punk movement in the 1970s. Radical clothing accessorised by symbols, bright hair colours, body piercings, and heavy-duty books signalled opposition to the dominant political ideology (Craik). However, none of these purposes appeared to play a role in Australian environmental activism either. Instead, it appears that Maynard’s contention that Australian protest fashion barely deviates from everyday dress remains true today. Fashion within the events promoted in this large empirical dataset retained the ‘prevalence of everyday clothing’ (Maynard, Dress 111). The lack of a clearly discernible single protest fashion style within the dataset may be related to the shortcomings of the sender/receiver model of fashion communication. As Barnard (Fashion Statements) argued, fashion is not always used as a vehicle for conveying messages, but also as a platform for constructing and reproducing identity. Indeed, a multiplicity of researchers have noted how fashion acts as a signal of what social groups individuals belong to (see Roach-Higgins and Eicher). Activist groups have a variety of goals, which not only include promoting environmental change but also mobilising more people to join their cause (Gulliver et al., Understanding). Stereotyping can hinder achievement of these goals. It has been demonstrated, for example, that individuals who hold negative stereotypes of ‘typical’ activists are less likely to want to associate with them, and less likely to adopt their behaviours (Bashir et al.). Accordingly, some activist groups have been shown to actively promote dress associated with other identity groups, specifically to challenge cultural constructions of environmental activist stereotypes (see also Roces). For example, Bloomfield and Doolins’s study of the NZ anti-GE group MAdGE (Mothers against Genetic Engineering in Food and the Environment) demonstrated how visual protest artifacts conveyed the protesters’ social identity as mothers and customers rather than environmental activists, claiming an alternative cultural mandate for challenging the authority of science (see also Einwohner et al.). The data suggest that Australian activists are seeking to avoid this stereotype as well. The absence of a consistent fashion promoted within the dataset may reflect awareness of problematic stereotypes that activists may be then deliberately seeking to avoid. Maynard (Dress), for example, has noted how the everyday dress of Australian protesters serves to deflect stereotypical labelling of participants. This strategy is also mirrored by the changing nature of groups within the Australian environmental movement. The event database demonstrates that an increasing number of environmental groups are emerging with names highlighting non-stereotypical environmental identities: groups such as ‘Engineers Declare’ and ‘Bushfire Survivors for Climate Action’. Beyond these identity processes, the frequent use of costumed street theatre protest suggests that activists recognise the value of using fashion as a vehicle for communicating messages, despite the challenges of interpretation described above. Much of the language used to promote street theatre in the Facebook event listings suggests that these costumes were deliberately designed to signify a particular meaning, with individuals encouraged to dress up to be ‘a vehicle for myth and symbol’ (Lavender 11). It may be that costumes are also utilised in protest due to their suitability as an image event, convenient for dissemination by mass media seeking colourful and engaging imagery (Delicath and Deluca; Doerr). Furthermore, costumes, as with text or colours presented on t-shirts, may offer activists an avenue to clearly convey a visual message which is more resistant to stereotyping. This is especially relevant given that fashion can be re-interpreted and misinterpreted by audiences, as well as reframed and reinterpreted by the media (Maynard, Dress). While the prevalence of costumed performance and infrequent mentions of fashion in the dataset may be explained by stereotype avoidance and messaging clarity, sustainable fashion practices were more straightforward in intent. Groups used multiple approaches to educate audiences about sustainable fashion, whether through fostering sustainable fashion practices or raising awareness of fashion industry problems. In this regard, fashion in protest in Australia closely resembles Asian sustainable fashion activism (see e.g. Chon et al. regarding the Singaporean context). In particular, the large number of ‘crafternoons’ suggests their importance as sites of activism and community building. Craftivism – acts such as quilting banners, yarn bombing, and cross stitching feminist slogans – are used by many groups to draw attention to social, political and environmental issues (McGovern and Barnes). This type of ‘creative activism’ (Filippello) has been used to challenge aesthetic and political norms across a variety of contested socio-political landscapes. These activities not only develop activism skills, but also foster community (Barry and Drak). For environmental groups, these community building events can play a critical role in sustaining and supporting ongoing environmental activism (Gulliver et al., Understanding) as well as demonstrating solidarity with workers across Asia experiencing labour injustices linked to the fashion industry (Chung and Yim). Conclusion Studies examining protest fashion demonstrate that clothing provides a canvas for sharing protest messages and identities in both Asia and Australia (Benda; Yangzom; Craik). However, despite the fashion’s utility as communication tool for social and environmental movements, empirical studies of how fashion is used by activists in these contexts remain rare. This analysis demonstrates that Australian environmental activists use fashion in their action repertoire primarily through costumed street theatre performances and promoting sustainable fashion practices. By doing so they may be seeking to use fashion as a means of conveying messages, while avoiding stereotypes that can demobilise supporters and reduce support for their cause. Furthermore, sustainable fashion activism offers opportunities for activists to achieve multiple goals: to subvert the fast fashion industry, to provide participation avenues for new activists, to help build activist communities, and to express solidarity with those experiencing fast fashion-related labour injustices. These findings suggest that the use of fashion in protest actions can move beyond identity messaging to also enact sustainable practices while co-opting and resisting hegemonic ideas of consumerism. By integrating fashion into the vibrant and diverse actions promoted by environmental movements across Australia and Asia, activists can construct and perform identities while fostering the community bonds and networks from which movements demanding environmental change derive their strength. Ethics Approval Statement This study was approved by the Research Ethics Committee of the University of Queensland (2018000963). 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Berg, 2002. ———. “Dress for Dissent: Reading the Almost Unreadable.” Journal of Australian Studies 30.89 (2006): 103–112. McGovern, Alyce, and Clementine Barnes. “Visible Mending, Street Stitching, and Embroidered Handkerchiefs: How Craftivism Is Being Used to Challenge the Fashion Industry.” International Journal for Crime, Justice and Social Democracy 11.2 (2022): 87–101. Repo, Jemima. “Feminist Commodity Activism: The New Political Economy of Feminist Protest.” International Political Sociology 14.2 (2020): 215–232. Roach-Higgins, Mary Ellen, and Joanne B. Eicher. “Dress and Identity.” Clothing and Textiles Research Journal 10.4 (1992): 1–8. Roces, Mina. “Dress as Symbolic Resistance in Asia.” International Quarterly for Asian Studies 53.1 (2022): 5–14. Stuart, Avelie, et al. “‘I Don’t Really Want to Be Associated with the Self-Righteous Left Extreme’: Disincentives to Participation in Collective Action.” Journal of Social and Political Psychology 6.1 (2018): 242–270. Thompson, Charles J. “College Students’ Fashion Activism in the Age of Trump.” The Routledge Companion to Fashion Studies. Eds. Eugenia Paulicelli, Veronica Manlow, and Elizabeth Wissinger. Routledge, 2021. Titton, Monica. “Afterthought: Fashion, Feminism and Radical Protest.” Fashion Theory – Journal of Dress Body and Culture 23.6 (2019): 747–756. Tulloch, Carol. The Birth of Cool: Style Narratives of the African Diaspora. Bloomsbury Publishing, 2016. Turbet, Hanna Mills. “‘We Are Overexposed’: Climate Activists Strip, March through City Streets.” The Age, 12 Oct. 2019. <https://www.theage.com.au/national/victoria/we-are-overexposed-climate-activists-strip-march-through-city-streets-20191012-p5301f.html>. Von Busch, Otto. “Engaged Design and the Practice of Fashion Hacking: The Examples of Giana Gonzalez and Dale Sko.” Fashion Practice 1.2 (2009): 163–185. Yangzom, Dicky. “Clothing and Social Movements: Tibet and the Politics of Dress.” Social Movement Studies 15.6 (2016): 622–633.

The impetus for this issue dates from a symposium on Embodied Knowledges held at Edith Cowan University in Perth in 2011. The Symposium arose from the shared interests of a diverse group, many of them practice-led researchers, and should have been a clue that the call for papers for this issue would attract different conceptions of the body. Nevertheless we were surprised by the many kinds of bodies implied in the 17 papers received and are pleased to offer a selection in the 'embody' issue of M/C Journal.Part of the difficulty of talking about the body as a source of knowledge, and also as a product of culture and history, is the backdrop of unproblematic representation of the body in popular culture. The linkage of the body to the brain, and by implication the mind, is particularly hard to escape. Through a scientific/medical lens, viewers of medical documentaries like The Human Body have learned to interpret representations of the brain. “Slices” of the brain are instantly recognisable through technologies such as Positron Emission Tomography (PET) scans. The metaphor of the brain lighting up due to thought and activity, derived from mediated brain imaging technology, has entered common usage. Such images are understood even by non-scientists as different parts of the brain at work, running the body. Brains, bodies and thinking seem well connected in popular culture.In the academic realm, the relationship of the brain to the mind is contested, as is the place of the body. In Western culture a dualist mind/body division has contributed to a particular understanding of the body, and of knowledge making, in which objective, propositional knowledge has been privileged. An alternative monist view has variously been used by theorists of the body from Nietsche to Deleuze but also by contemporary neurophysiologists such as Damasio. Using these philosophical positions, the body is either the weaker side of a partnership, or subsumed into a whole which does not acknowledge the specificity of actual bodies, or their potential as sites of knowledge making.Merleau-Ponty posited the body as both object and subject and that access to knowledge could only be obtained by the lived experience of the body. He suggested that we can only know other objects and perceive space and time through our own bodies. The phenomenological approaches resulting from this stance have, to some extent, recovered the status of bodily knowledge. Psychoanalytical thought has contributed to the extension of what we consider to be the boundaries of the body and blurred the articulation of mind through concepts like body image and body schema (see Weiss) and later neural maps (e.g. Damasio). However, Elizabeth Grosz went further when she issued a challenge in the early 90s “that all the significant facets and complexities of subjects, can be as adequately explained using the subject’s corporeality as a framework as it would be using consciousness or the unconscious” (vii). The body has been shown to be plastic when considered within lived physical and cultural spaces (Giblett; Grosz). Regardless of where one positions the body on a continuum from pure nature to a surface overwritten by culture and history, it seems foolish to disregard it as a source of knowledge.The authors of the papers presented in this issue attempt to show that knowledge resides in, can be acquired through, and flows out from, the body. Many of them see a connection between how and what can be known and their practice as artists, performers, researchers and writers. This way of knowing – through the thinking body – is connected to a developing family of methodologies called practice-based or practice-led research. It is research that aims to add to knowledge and understanding by carrying out an original investigation “in and through the acts of creating and performing” (Borgdorff 46). While many art practices clearly involve the body, Mercer and Robson point out that practice-led researchers often put the body at the centre of the inquiry and that “corporeal attention and information completes an otherwise insufficient way of theorising and philosophising” (18).Jo Taylor’s feature article on embodied trauma traverses 118 years between Jean-Martin Charcot and Robert Scaer. It captures both the problem of separating mind and body and the importance to recovery, of acknowledging knowledge held in the body. In the accounts of two physicians working in different times, cultures and places of access to scientific knowledge, it is the knowledge available through their patients’ bodies that is common. The image of the body arched in hysteria, the experience of trauma locked inside, will perhaps ensure that the body is not lost in this selection of writings.Ffion Murphy and Richard Nile also address trauma but with respect to the lost body in relation to an imagined community. Both the personal trauma of war and the communal experience of war can be sensed in the lost literature of the First World War. These attempts to represent or resurrect the war dead through writing can be considered acts of grief for embodiment. Karina Quinn and Kirsten Hudson ignore the spectre of the hysterical in examining maternal embodiment. Quinn takes up Julia Kristeva’s challenge to write from the body, providing a visceral account. Hudson also writes her lived experience, and offers her embodied art practice as site of resistance to cultural expectations of Australian motherhood.The bodily experience of art by the viewer is addressed by Prue Gibson, while Roz Drummond, Jondi Keane and Patrick West consider the interaction between embodiment and place from three different artistic practices. Chaim Noy’s detailed discussion conveys the kinaesthetic skill of the martial arts practitioner within a community of practice. His autoethnographic narrative highlights the knowledge of the body-in-motion against his written reflection.Vanessa Bradshaw, Cynthia Witney, Lelia Green and Leesa Costello show that embodied knowledge can be shared in a community even when that community is a virtual one. Whilst being diagnosed and treated within a dominant scientific/medical discourse, which prescribes one way of knowing breast cancer, women’s embodied experiences can be exchanged through an online support site to provide an alternative source of knowledge. Re-enactment and embodiment of cultural memory is explored by Michaela Callaghan in her work on the carnival dances of the displaced campesinos of the Andes. Within an urban setting, the campesinos collectively dance into being their ancestral place using physical memory. Her description of the body within place implies movement, perhaps showing that writing need not take us away from the body.The bodies represented in this issue feel like living bodies, they are not the bodies without organs of Deleuze and Guattari or the flesh of later Merleau-Ponty. They are bodies of sexual difference, bodies interacting with, and reacting to, other bodies, within particular spaces. Even the ghostly dead bodies of the war poetry, reported by Murphy and Nile, exert a powerful influence over the living.In using the term embodied knowledge we affirm that knowledge making includes the body. This 'embody' issue of M/C Journal is not about rejecting the mind in favour of the body. It is about the richness of knowledge and practice, grounded in our bodies-in-the world. As Grosz (vii) would have it: “Bodies have all the explanatory power of minds”.ReferencesBorgdorff, Henk. “The Production of Knowledge in Artistic Research”. The Routledge Companion to Research in the Arts. Eds. Michael Biggs and Henrik Karlsson. London: Routledge, 2010. 44-63.Damasio, Antonio. Looking for Spinoza: Joy, Sorrow and the Feeling Brain. London: Vintage, 2004.Deleuze, Gilles, and Félix Guattari. A Thousand Plateaus. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1987.Giblett, Rodney. The Body of Nature and Culture. Basingstoke, UK: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008.Grosz, Elizabeth. Volatile Bodies: Toward a Corporeal Feminism. St Leonards, NSW: Allen & Unwin, 1994.Kristeva, Julia, and Arthur Goldhammer (Trans.). "Stabat Mater." Poetics Today 6.1-2 (1985): 133-52.Mercer, Leah, and Julie Robson. “The Backbone of Live Research: A Synthesis of Method in Performance Based Inquiry”. Live Research: Methods of Practice-led Inquiry in Performance. Eds. Leah Mercer, Julie Robson and David Fenton. Nerang, QLD: Ladyfinger, 2012. 11-19.Merleau-Ponty, Maurice. Phenomenology of Perception. Trans. Colin Smith. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1962.---. The Visible and the Invisible. Trans. Alphonso Lingis. Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1968.The Human Body. Prod/Dir. Richard Dale. BBC, 1998.Weiss, Gail. Body Images: Embodiment as Intercorporeality. New York and London: Routledge, 1999.

Positionality statement As we begin to discuss this issue, its origins, and its importance in contemporary society, I wanted to acknowledge my positionality and the role that it may play in the formation of this issue. Jonathan O. Cain is an African-American male working in the LIS field. Before moving into administration, I taught data and digital literacy and worked on developing programs that focused on improving access to these critical skills at zero cost to learners. It is important to acknowledge my positionality and the lens through which I see the data science field. Trevor Watkins is an African American male working in the LIS field at an academic institution in an academic library. I teach critical data literacy workshops and engage in diversity and BIPOC-related digital projects with faculty, students, and the broader academic community across the country. I am also a researcher and practitioner in artificial intelligence (AI) and data science. The global pandemic, its impacts, and why it matters We first met in August 2020 to discuss the possibilities of this special issue about five months into the pandemic. We spent a good chunk of that meeting getting to know each other and, most importantly, discussed the toll the pandemic placed on our communities and us. It is probably safe to say that many of you, at some point, were uncertain of the future. Like most people worldwide, we lost family and friends or knew of people who succumbed to Covid-19 and other illnesses that weren't treated because the focus shifted to Covid-19. We get it. At one point, Covid-19 killed over three thousand people per day (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), 2022). According to data from the CDC, 90% of the 385,676 people who died between March and December 2020 had Covid-19 listed as the underlying cause of death on their death certificate. The murders of Ahmaud Arbery in February, Breonna Taylor in March, and George Floyd in May 2020 sparked civic unrest across the United States (US) and protests across the globe in solidarity against racial injustice. When we announced this special issue and initiated a call for papers, we didn't get much of a response initially. We expected and acknowledged that it would probably take some time before we received inquiries or proposals about the issue, the intent to submit, or any submissions. Like many of you, we are still picking up the pieces from 2020 and dealing with the aftermath of Covid-19. The pandemic may be over now, depending on whom you ask, but the emotional scars are still there and may remain so for quite some time. Patience was the one quality we all had throughout this process, which is why we can present this publication today. Data and liberatory technology Liberatory technology. This is a concept that invited contemplation as we sat down to record our reflections on this special issue. In drawing together scholars, educators, and practitioners to address the issue of data and its relationship to race, ethnicity, and representation, we, as coeditors, were making a statement about the importance of data, the material impact that this seemingly abstract and ethereal object can and does have on individual and community lives. And thinking about that impact brought liberatory technology to the front of our minds. The definition of liberator technology offered by the IDA B. Wells Just Data Lab intrigues us and invites us to grapple with that topic. They defined liberatory as something that "supports the increased freedom and wellbeing of marginalized people, especially black people outside of capitalism and settler colonial power structures" and technology as "a tool used to accomplish a task." And as we contemplate this set of definitions, we are left to question whether data can be a liberatory technology or not. (LIBERATORY TECHNOLOGY AND DIGITAL MARRONAGE, n.d.) In Liberation Technology: Black Protest in the Age of Franklin, Richard S. Newman draws parallels with the asserting ownership and mastery of new communication technologies and black liberation activities. Reflecting on the transformative nature of print technology, he writes, "If the Marquis de Condorcet was right in 1793 that print had unshackled Europe from medieval modes of thought and action, then it is also true that print was perhaps the first technology to liberate blacks from the servile images that had long haunted their existence in Western culture." And draws a 19th-century example of how it expressly connects to black lives post-emancipation noting "W. E. B. Du Bois certainly thought that black history and print history worked in tandem. Wherever one found newspapers in the post-Civil War South, he observed, one found some form of black freedom" (Richard S. Newman, 2009, p. 175). He even notes how scholars note that black activists embraced other communication technologies like photography "to reshape the image of African Americans in nineteenth-century culture." (Richard S. Newman, 2009, p. 175) We have no shortage of examples of how data and data-driven technologies fail to support the "increased freedom and wellbeing of marginalized people outside of capitalism and settler colonial power structures." In 2016, ProPublica published Machine Bias, a report that looks at Risk assessment technologies used in arraignment and sentencing. They report that "The formula was particularly likely to falsely flag black defendants as future, wrongly labeling them this way at almost twice the rate as white defendants" and "white defendants were mislabeled as low risk more often than black defendants" (Julia Angwin, 2016). A 2021 article, Fairness in Criminal Justice Risk Assessments: The State of the Art, in their analysis, noted, "The false negative rate is much higher for whites so that violent white offenders are more likely than violent black offenders to be incorrectly classified as nonviolent. The false positive rate is much higher for blacks so that nonviolent black offenders are more likely than nonviolent white offenders to be incorrectly classified as violent. Both error rates mistakenly inflate the relative representation of blacks predicted to be violent. Such differences can support claims of racial injustice. In this application, the trade-off between two different kinds of fairness has real bite." (Berk et al., 2021, p. 33) These are just a few examples of how these technological developments, on their own merits, fail to meet the definition offered by the authors of the "Liberatory Technology and Digital Marronage" Zine from the Ida B. Wells Just Data Labs. Reflecting on the technological path illustrated by Newman, the work of ownership and mastery of the tool provides the potential for it to be liberatory. Through this lens, the work of the Just Data Lab is exemplary for this meditation; it draws a direct line from technology, education, mastery, and liberatory technology. Data in higher education Data literacy education is an area that has been a focus of our careers in librarianship. It's a space where we saw the libraries' ability to make a meaningful impact. Data has had a tremendous impact on college campuses, from how research is conducted to the pressures colleges feel from stakeholder groups: students, governments, funders, donors, and employers to prepare students with the data and technology skills to gain employment in the knowledge economy. As colleges and universities have turned (with varying degrees of success) to meet the needs of these communities, a myriad of explorations on the importance of the representation of these marginalized communities in these systems—to combat and dismantle the harmful practices that we see embedded in the systems that drive society and the potentially debilitating consequences they produce. That is partly why the works in this special issue are so important at this moment in time. These scholars and scholar-practitioners are engaging with these issues that drive the opaque structures surrounding us. And hopefully, their work can give us another perspective on how to engage with these structures and transform them to support liberatory practices. The entries in this issue We have some fantastic articles for you to read in this issue. We open with an article by Kevin Manuel, Rosa Orlandini, and Alexandra Cooper, who discuss how the collection process of racial, ethnic, and indigenous data has evolved in the Canadian Census since 1871, the erasure of minorities and indigenous citizens from those censuses, and the work to restore and accurately identify and categorize racialized groups. In the next article, Leigh Phan, Stephanie Labou, Erin Foster, and Ibraheem Ali present a model for data ethics instruction for non-experts by designing and implementing two data ethics workshops. They make important points about the failure of academia to incorporate the ethical use of data in course curriculums and digital literacy training and demonstrate how academic libraries have become an essential resource for the academic community. Their workshop structure can be modeled for any academic library that endeavors to provide a similar service to its community. In the third article, Natasha Johnson, Megan Sapp Nelson, and Katherine Yngve, interrogate the collective and local purposes of institutional data collection and its impact on student belongingness and propose a framework based on data feminism that centers the student as a person rather than a commodity. Finally, our closing article from Thema Monroe-White focuses on marginalized and underrepresented people in the data science field. The author proposes that racially relevant and responsive teaching is necessary to recruit more people from these groups and diversify the field. She discusses how the Ladson-Billings model of cultural relevant pedagogy has been applied and is beneficial to STEM curriculums, and how a liberatory data science curriculum could promote a student's voice and sense of belonging. Conclusion We want to thank all those involved in producing this special issue. We want to thank the authors first. Their patience, dedication, and perseverance throughout this process were much appreciated. The reviewers provided timely, very detailed, and thorough feedback. We would be remised if we didn't acknowledge their hard work and labor. We would like to thank the IQ Editorial Team, Michele Hayslett and Karsten Boye Rasmussen, for working with us over the last two years, and Ofira Schwartz-Soicher, for helping us get to the finish line. Trevor Watkins Jonathan O. Cain References Berk, R., Heidari, H., Jabbari, S., Kearns, M., & Roth, A. (2021). Fairness in Criminal Justice Risk Assessments: The State of the Art. Sociological Methods & Research, 50(1), 3–44. https://doi.org/10.1177/0049124118782533 Flipsnack. (n.d.). Liberatory Technology Zine. Flipsnack. Retrieved December 17, 2022, from https://www.flipsnack.com/EBC8CD77C6F/liberatory-technology-zine.html LIBERATORY TECHNOLOGY AND DIGITAL MARRONAGE. (n.d.). IDA B. WELLS JUST DATA LAB. Retrieved December 17, 2022, from https://www.thejustdatalab.com/tools-1/liberatory-technology-and-digital-marronage Mattu, J. A., Jeff Larson,Lauren Kirchner,Surya. (n.d.). Machine Bias. ProPublica. Retrieved December 17, 2022, from https://www.propublica.org/article/machine-bias-risk-assessments-in-criminal-sentencing Richard S. Newman. (2009). Liberation Technology: Black Printed Protest in the Age of Franklin. Early American Studies: An Interdisciplinary Journal, 8(1), 173–198. https://doi.org/10.1353/eam.0.0033

To listen to them talk, you'd think most Americans hate television. Everyday discourse about television abounds with condemnation of television content. Television is a wasteland, a stream of idiotic material insulting to the intelligence of the viewer. When people deem a particular program worth watching, they often articulate it in contradistinction to the vast majority of awful stuff out there. This almost universal discourse of condemnation does not mean Americans do not watch television, of course. They do, and they watch a great deal of it. Thus we have a conundrum. If it is so awful, why do people watch television? When Americans construct stories about themselves, they construct themselves as choice--making individuals (Polanyi). Sane, mature Americans are expected to be able to make intelligent choices and to live with the consequences of their choices. How, then, can Americans articulate themselves as television viewers, as individuals who choose to view what is clearly awful stuff? In this paper, I want to discuss 'veging out' as an American category of media viewing that resolves this conundrum. In framing their discourse about watching television in terms of 'veging out,' Americans are able to construct themselves as sensible, choice--making persons, and yet explain why they watch large amounts of television. I want to use this example to explore ways that media scholars might supplement explorations of the self as mediated by texts with attention to the ways the viewing self is articulated in everyday discourses about television by viewers. An American Folk Category of Pleasure I said I'm sorry this is late. I just couldn't work on it over the weekend. I just veged out in front of the TV the whole weekend. I realise that's not much of an excuse…but…I had my Arabic test Thursday and I was too burned out afterward to do anything. I had to let my brain recharge. [text one] Let's just veg out tonight. We both had a big lunch, let's just make some popcorn and watch whatever stupid stuff is on TV. Unless you want to get a video. [text two] God, we didn't do anything this weekend. We just sat in front of the TV. (laughs) It was a total veg out weekend, we ordered out every night. John was on the rig for two weeks and then he's had to work late every night since he's been back, and I've had this activity and that activity with the kids, and girl scouts and soccer... We really needed the break. [text three] In the interest of brevity, I offer only three texts here.1 Anyone who has listened to Americans talk about television can probably multiply these examples many times; most Americans of my generation or later have almost certainly been producers of such discourse at one time or another. Each of these examples is drawn from a different context: a student's explanation for handing in a late paper [text one], a wife's suggestion for evening plans [text two], a friend sharing information about her family [text three]. And each is part of the language of experience – the language people use to describe emotions, sensations, and thoughts and, in so doing, articulate a self. 'Veging out' -- the 'veg--' prefix is borrowed from the word 'vegetable' and pronounced with a soft g -- is a nice example of a local taxonomic category of pleasure and the way it is embedded in more complex discursive formations, which it both replicates and refracts. In American society, where sitting in front of the television when there are other things to do is condemned as a waste of time that makes one a 'couch potato,' 'veging out' allows actors to reconstitute 'being a vegetable' as an empowering choice, an intentional and temporary vegetative state one escapes into as a means to relax, reduce stress and 'get away' from one's troubles. Veging out involves escape but specifies that one is escaping to nowhere, that an avoidance of critical mental activity is precisely what is sought. The claim to be veging out thus accepts the general American public discourse of television as a wasteland – the 'waste' in particular involving waste of time -- and simultaneously challenges it by claiming, in essence, that one has a right to do nothing if one has been working 'too hard'. There is nothing fanciful or even insightful in this analysis; discourses in which Americans talk about their television viewing activity tend to be both straightforward and redundant. Americans who say they spent an evening veging out are likely to follow the statement with an explanation of why they are entitled to veg out -- a litany of stresses or labours -- and sometimes also assertions to confirm that the world they escaped to was indeed a place that involved minimal mental activity. For example, the student in Text One quoted above followed it up with the comment, 'There was absolutely nothing on worth watching'. The woman who produced Text Three commented a few lines later, 'It was practically all commercials, nothing could hold my interest because it was always being interrupted. I hardly ever watch TV, I hadn't realised how many commercials there are'. This latter comment also positions the activity as a rare one for this person, emphasising the strategic nature of veging out as a life choice and hence acceptable within American understandings of choice.2 People's own modes of articulation may thus even deny their motivations involve pleasure.3 Choosing to enter the wasteland of television certainly can be, and often is, constructed as a bad choice. As Beeman demonstrates in his analysis of the language of choice in American advertising, making a choice is often constituted as not enough -- one must make the 'right' choice. Discourse about 'veging out' partly forecloses the possibility of the instance described being a bad choice by embedding the choice in the matrix of suffering. Yet as Carbaugh discovers in his sociolinguistic appraisal of TV talk shows, doing something 'wrong' can nonetheless be valorised in America by its formulation as a deliberate exercise of one's right to choose. The moral wrongness of the particular choice is redeemed by the articulation of a self exercising its right to make its own choices, and taking responsibility for those choices. The power of 'veging out' as a representation of social action thus lies in its ability to simultaneously embrace the widespread discourse that 'television is a wasteland' while at the same time subsuming it under the important American discourse of choice. In so doing, it allows Americans to construct themselves as hard--working individuals who choose to waste time as a strategy for resolving the stresses and discomforts of hard work. One articulates a viewing self, that is, which is consonant with the fundamental values of American culture. The Viewing Self The 'viewing self' is that self, or that aspect of the self, constructed through experiences of viewing events and activities in which the person is not a participant. In the contemporary world, such viewing has increased as an activity, accommodated and mediated by film, television, video and other technologies. These technologies offer, among other things, the opportunity for virtual experiences, events and activities that we do not experience with our bodies but which nonetheless offer us comparable fodder for our cognitive processes (Drummond). Studies of the self as viewer have long been dominated in media studies by attention to these virtual experiences as internal. From the early argument that the self is 'interpellated' by the culture industry (Adorno), to the argument that the self is socially and politically positioned in dominated, negotiating or resistant ways (Hall), to the idea of the self as simultaneously occupying multiple (and shifting) spectator positions (Modleski, Williams, Clover, Caton), emphasis has long been on how the viewer experiences structured sets of symbols, appropriates them at various levels of cohesion, cognitively and affectively orders them with regard to pre--existing understandings of and feelings about the world, and uses them in the ongoing construction of the self. I am suggesting here the utility of turning our attention from internal to external articulations of self as viewer. I want to argue that in addition to engaging with the content of the viewing experience, people usually engage with the meaning of the viewing experience as an activity. The viewing experience is never just about engagement with content about what one watches. It is also about the activities of 'watching TV,' 'renting a video,' and 'going to the movies.' Each of these is an experience that must be internally evaluated with regard to one's pre--existing sense of self, and which may have to be verbally articulated in interaction with others. In the latter case, it provides yet more fodder for the construction of the self, as we see versions of ourselves mirrored in the responses of the other to our own self--performance. Given the plethora of media, genres, places and events in which visual media are watched, speaking with others about one's television viewing maps one onto a complex terrain of distinctions about one's taste. One's 'taste' is never innocent, because it ties in to a complex social code that relates it to class, gender, ethnicity, education, and other social categories (Bourdieu). To represent ourselves to others as viewers of any particular kind of media is to position ourselves as particular kinds of persons in relation to others. One can use this code to articulate oneself as a particular kind of person vis--à--vis those with whom one is interacting: an equal who shares common tastes, a superior who enjoys more refined discernment, a populist who revels in his or her common tastes. To speak of our viewing allows us to generate social contact on grounds of shared experience. It allows us to confirm our tastes with regard to the social others who serve as mirrors to our selves. Of course, persons are never omnicompetent in their self--presentations, and efforts to present the self in particular ways can backfire, so that instead of appearing as a woman of discernment one appears pompous; and instead of appearing as a common Joe, one comes across as vulgar. Talking about viewing, in other words, always involves risk. In examining how people manage this risk in their social interactions, as through framing their experience as 'veging out,' we can learn much about how people construct themselves as viewers. Conclusion 'Veging out' is not the only verbal strategy by means of which Americans solve the conundrum of the viewing self. Nor is there anything unique in this American conundrum. Ethnographic accounts clearly demonstrate that many societies offer public condemnatory discourses about television that are at odds with actual viewing practices. The content of television in Belize is 'destroying a whole generation' (Wilk), in Egypt it's a flood of 'moral pollution' (Armbrust), in the Netherlands it's 'an embarrassment' (Alasuutaari). People's ways of speaking about themselves as viewers are clearly often a result of an ambivalence born of their pleasure, on the one hand, and their understanding that one should not be getting pleasure from such stuff, on the other. The result is often discourse that expresses guilt, or embarrassment, as summed up by Alasuutari's informant who said 'I'm ashamed to admit it, but I watch Dallas.' Alasuutari's reliance on interviewing, though, captures the conundrum but not the cultural solutions. An interview with a sociologist is a very different kind of speech act from the quotidian contexts in which people construct themselves as television viewers in interaction with friends, family, the person sitting next to you at the bar, and so forth (Briggs). My objective in this brief exercise is to draw our attention away from interviewing toward ethnography, and away from attention to internal subjectivities to the interactive contexts in which the self is constructed in everyday life. Notes 1 These three examples were all collected among American expatriates while I was teaching at the American University in Cairo. 2 Individual performances of this discourse are always strategic, of course; their articulation shaped by the speakers understanding of the speech event in which they take place. 3 The American discomfort with spending one's leisure pleasurably has been long chronicled. As early as the 1920s the Lynds found the people of Middletown uncomfortable with talking about reading for pleasure rather than instruction and profit. People did not want to articulate themselves as persons who wasted time (Lynd and Lynd 1929: 225) References Adorno, Theodor. 'The Culture Industry Reconsidered.' The Adorno Reader. Ed. Brian O'Connor. Oxford: Blackwell, 2000. 230-38. Alasuutari, Pertti. ''I'm Ashamed to Admit it, but I have Watched Dallas:' The Moral Hierarchy of Television Programmes.' Media, Culture and Society 14 (1992): 561-582. Armbrust, Walter. Mass Culture and Modernisation in Egypt. Cambridge: University Press, 1996. Beeman, William O. 'Freedom to Choose: Symbolic Values in American Advertising.' The Symbolisation of America. Ed. Herve Varenne. Omaha: University of Nebraska Press, 1986 Bourdieu, Pierre. Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgment of Taste. Trans. Richard Nice. Harvard: Harvard University Press, 1984. Briggs, Charles. Learning How to Ask: A Sociolinguistic Appraisal of the Role of the Interview in Social Science Research. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986. Carbaugh, Donal. Talking American: Cultural Discourses on Donahue. Norwood, NJ: Ablex, 1989. Caton, Steven C. Lawrence of Arabia: a Film's Anthropology. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999. Clover, Carol. Men, Women, and Chain Saws: Gender in the Modern Horror Film. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1992. Drummond, Lee. American Dreamtime: A Cultural Analysis of Popular Movies and Their Implications for a Science of Humanity. Lanham, MD: Littlefield Adams, 1995. Hall, Stuart. 'Culture, the Media and the 'Ideological Effect.' ' Mass Communication and Society. Ed. James Curran, Michael Gurevitch and Janet Woolacott. London: Edward Arnold, 1977. - - - . 'The Rediscovery of 'Ideology:' The Return of the Repressed in Media Studies. Culture, Society and the Media. Ed. Michael Gurevitch, T. Bennett, James Curran and Janet Woolacott. London: Methuen, 1982. Modleski, Tania. The Women Who Knew Too Much: Hitchcock and Feminist Analysis. New York: Routledge, 1988 Polanyi, Livia. Telling the American Story. Cambridge, Mass: MIT Press, 1989 Wilk, Richard. ''It's Destroying a Whole Generation:' Television and Moral Discourse in Belize.' Visual Anthropology 5 (1995): 229-44. Williams, Linda. Hard Core: Power, Pleasure and the Frenzy of the Visible. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1989. Citation reference for this article Substitute your date of access for Dn Month Year etc... MLA Style Peterson, Mark Allen. "Choosing the Wasteland" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5.5 (2002). [your date of access] < http://www.media-culture.org.au/mc/0210/Peterson.html &gt. Chicago Style Peterson, Mark Allen, "Choosing the Wasteland" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5, no. 5 (2002), < http://www.media-culture.org.au/mc/0210/Peterson.html &gt ([your date of access]). APA Style Peterson, Mark Allen. (2002) Choosing the Wasteland. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5(5). < http://www.media-culture.org.au/mc/0210/Peterson.html &gt ([your date of access]).

In finding patriarchal oppression in linear narratives, early Second Wave feminist writers like Hélène Cixous, Julia Kristeva, and Luce Irigaray opposed biologically based Freudian theories that claimed the feminine was grounded in a certain essence of male-ness and female-ness. Cixous’ advocacy of écriture féminine includes her critique of traditional narrative, which she claims is structured by a sexual opposition that “has always worked for man’s profit to the point of reducing writing . . . to his laws” (883). Specifically in terms of cinema, the focus of this paper, Laura Mulvey finds similar oppression in filmic linear narratives. For her, the avant-garde’s near limitless possibilities can break this power, thus freeing “the look of the camera into its materiality in time and space and the look of the audience into dialectics and passionate detachment” (47). Similarly, Steve Neale’s “Masculinity as Spectacle: Reflections on Men and Mainstream Cinema,” where he theorizes about placing the male body under the erotic gaze, remains immersed in a discourse on linear narrative. Some pornography theorists like Richard Dyer slightly eschew the overall plot-based notion of narrative by using the visible male orgasm as the structuring device, creating something of a narrative of ejaculation. Specifically, I am referring to Dyer’s “Idol thoughts: orgasm and self-reflexivity in gay pornography” where he states that cumming “brings the linear narrative drive that structures porn to a clear climax and end” (192). This emphasis on the male orgasm is also a tool used by some anti-porn feminists to read male-supremacy into (heterosexual) porn. Linda Williams, however, is quick to show that the money shot “is after all only male orgasm” which “can also be seen as the very limit of the visual representation of sexual pleasure,” countering some anti-porn arguments of pornography vis-à-vis the recorded male orgasm (Hard Core 101, author’s emphasis). Yet this too comes from an ever-present formalist tradition of film theory that reads meaning almost exclusively on the screen, maintaining the notion that porn is viewed as standard, commercial movies are, a notion that hardly seems thorough enough to account for the particulars of porn spectatorship. (Subsequently, Williams explores patterns of consumption in a later article entitled “Film Bodies: Gender, Genre, and Excess,” an article which I will discuss in more detail below.) With specific attention to pornography’s effects on viewers, Andrea Dworkin and Catharine A. MacKinnon were successful in getting certain municipalities to pass legislation banning pornography based on the detriments of the genre. (For further explanation of their position, please see the Minneapolis, Minnesota and Indianapolis, Indiana city council meeting transcripts in their book In Harm’s Way: The Pornography Civil Rights.) Although the courts subsequently struck down this legislation, MacKinnon explained some of her reasoning in “Sexuality” where she asked important questions of (heterosexual) pornography’s defining woman in terms of what (heterosexual) male viewers find erotic, and her account of this definition’s role in terms of power seems fairly accurate. “Sexual meaning is not made only, or even primarily, by words and in texts. It is made in social relations of power in the world, through which process gender is also produced” (160). Yet because her argument is grounded in heterosexual porn, I must question some of her conclusions about “man” as a collective gender. In other words, do the erotics of gay porn still define woman as “what male desire requires for arousal and satisfaction and is totally tautologous with ‘female sexuality’ and ‘the female sex’” (161)? Or does man—at least in part—now fall into this category, thus disrupting the strict binaries of male and female sexuality? MacKinnon does bring in issues of same-sex desire, and her effort at inclusion should be commended. Her understanding of male-male sex, however, remains wed to the idea that dominance and submission are still defining characteristics, and that these characteristics reinforce the masculine:feminine binary, presumably in terms of sexual positioning, thus eliminating variance within male-male desire. The sum total of this is that many gender-based understandings of narrative are too closely tied to formalism, and much theory that questions the positioning of viewers—via feminist theory or otherwise—fails to account for variety within audiences. Porn theorists can use texts like Bel Ami’s Frisky Summer 1: Best Friends to correct the subtracting of marginalized groups by studying the technological characteristics of DVDs in the domestic sphere. And studying these features will allow for more in depth inquiries about geographies of consumption, a category in need of expansion for all of porn studies, not just gay porn. John Champagne favors this type of culturally-minded analysis of gay porn, focusing on consumption practices within the geographic spaces of gay porn theatres/arcades in his “‘Stop Reading Films!’: Film Studies, Close Analysis, and Gay Pornography.” Here, Champagne claims that close analyses of films of any genre act as a gatekeeper for film studies, suggesting that, through formalism, film theorists are able to ward off intrusions from other disciplines (like queer studies), preserve the film text as a privileged site of knowledge, and ensure their own place of authority (79). With regard to gay porn, Champagne claims that these acts of self-preservation film theorists perform when doing close analysis contain any perceived threat that gay porn and the gay porn theatre/arcade present. “In its psychoanalytically inflected variant in particular, it [film studies] uses close analysis to diagnose the desire of (homo)sexualized spectators, a desire it thinks it already knows and can recognize” (77). Offering the gay porn theatre/arcade as a more appropriate location for examination, Champagne aims “to understand the porno film viewing experience as part of a larger set of cultural and social rituals and practices” rather than studying it as simply another filmmaking practice (81). Going hand-in-glove with Champagne’s rejection of close analysis as a tool for porn studies, Linda Williams suggests that pornography—gay, lesbian, straight, or otherwise—is a “body genre,” defining this in terms of its desire to cause a bodily reaction (“Film Bodies” 3). In other words, porn wants to get the viewer off. Champagne’s transferring the emphasis from the text to the spectator is very appropriate for a cultural/social investigation into gay porn because of porn’s encoded desires to cause this bodily reaction. (Similarly, work could be done on the video rental store where consumption of pornography—i.e., renting a movie—could be the pretext for a desired sexual encounter.) Yet by focusing so tightly on the theatre/arcade, Champagne misses the opportunity to bridge textual analysis with consumption practices as they are acted out in the home viewing experience. I, as the home viewer, am allowed more control over the text than the theatre/arcade patron. Champagne describes a machine found in some porn theatres/arcades that cycles through movies, showing brief clips from specific scenes as a preview of what the patron could watch (86). Beyond that, the theatre/arcade patron has little control over pausing, rewinding, or fast-forwarding the film. DVDs, on the other hand, can be viewed non-linearly, something beyond comparison for theatre/arcade patrons and even exceeding what VHS offers. This ability of DVD to turn just about any porn film into a compilation movie infuses far more control over the text than ever before. Because of the overwhelming popularity of home consumption and the ever-expanding DVD market, porn research must account for these newer strategies of consumption. Like most mainstream DVDs, porn DVDs are divided into individual “chapters,” with porn DVDs usually featuring one sex scene at a time, thus acting similarly to the machine Champagne describes. The Frisky Summer DVD is divided into six chapters representing the six sex scenes, but after selecting, say, chapter 6—Ion Davidov and Johan Paulik—the DVD offers sub-chapter options of “play chapter,” “foreplay,” “oral,” “anal,” and “orgasms,” as written on the screen. By beginning with chapter six, the final scene/chapter, I am not missing vital information to understanding what will be present in this final scene because, as a body genre, the film is trying to cause a bodily reaction, trying to produce my orgasm, not necessarily needing me to follow a linear plot. In other words, what happens in chapter 1—Ion Davidov’s sex scene with Daniel Valent—has no bearing on the visceral pleasure of chapter 6. In fact, porn DVDs like Frisky Summer provide the pieces for me to construct my own sequences that meet my visceral desires. But we shouldn’t completely disregard formalist film theory because one of the offered pieces is the film as “sequenced” by the filmmakers. After all, following characters/actors from encounter to encounter could help drive the orgasmic pleasure for some viewers or possibly even satisfy other visual interests unintended by the filmmakers. Separating home porn consumption from other forms of domestic cinema consumption is that porn filmmakers must expect their product to be seen in fragments, illustrating their knowledge of porn viewer behavior. Furthermore, dividing the film into not only the individual sex scenes but also the types of sex featured in that scene suggests that the home viewer is not interested in watching the movie form beginning to end because porn’s true goal of viewer orgasm can be met more efficiently by watching a specific sexual act. Jumping right to, say, the anal sex in chapter six allows me to construct a meta-narrative that both defies the diegetic story offered by the filmmakers yet complies with the genre’s, and therefore, the filmmakers’ larger goal to produce my orgasm. And with my orgasm, the narrative truly comes to an end because, shortly after, I will presumably press stop, thus ending the diegetic narrative at a fairly random place, yet ending the meta-narrative of consumption at its standard and expected post-orgasmic conclusion. Underlining the specificity of the particular sexual act within the sex scene is that, after selecting the anal sex moments between Ion and Johan, the film does not continue on to their orgasms despite this being the next moment in the linear action. Rather, the DVD returns me to the sex act menu within their chapter, allowing me to watch the anal sex again, pick a different type of sex, or return to the chapter menu to pick a different set of actors. With these options of sexual acts within sex scenes, the filmmakers recognize both that I am not necessarily interested in watching the film from beginning to end and that even watching an entire sexual sequence could be more than I want. Furthermore, returning to the menu instead of continuing with the scene as the filmmakers’ edited it suggests that I might never want to see the actor’s orgasms anyway, challenging the formalist importance of the cum shot. An interesting note to consider with this is the time limitation selecting a specific sexual act places on the viewer. The anal sex sequence between Ion and Johan lasts 3:27. This does not guarantee the viewer enough time to reach an orgasm, a fact that appears to counter the film’s body genre qualities. Yet limited time actually results in viewer control. If 3:27 isn’t enough time to orgasm, the film’s return to the sub-chapter menu demands the viewer exercise power over the text by re-watching, rewinding, pausing, or “slow-motioning” the sequence. While the film could at one point be working against my ejaculation, it nevertheless demands that I control the text. Grounding gender-based theories on formalist traditions of narrative and heterosexist notions of spectatorship create a structured absence of marginalized sexual identities in non-linear narrative film viewing. Although my comments on this subscribe to a somewhat limited/“vanilla” idea of solo masturbation by self-identified gay men watching gay porn at home, they should be viewed as a starting point for future research that examines all forces being enacted upon porn viewers. Specifically, we can use this idea of pleasure being found between the text and the orgasm to look at both female and straight male pleasures of their using gay male porn. This middle ground between production and consumption is where I place the structuring device of gay male porn viewed by gay men and should be considered in future studies. References Champagne, John. “‘Stop Reading Films!: Film Studies, Close Analysis, and Gay Pornography.” Cinema Journal 36.4 (Summer 1997): 76-97. Cixous, Hélène. “The Laugh of the Medusa.” Trans. Keith Cohen and Paula Cohen. Signs 1.4 (Summer 1976): 875-893. Dyer, Richard. “Idol thoughts: orgasm and self-reflexivity in gay pornography.” The Culture of Queers. London: Routledge, 2002. 187-203. Frisky Summer 1: Best Friends. DVD. Dir. George Duroy. With Ion Davidov and Johan Paulik. Bel Ami, 1995. 87 min. MacKinnon, Catharine A. “Sexuality.” The Second Wave: A Reader in Feminist Theory. Ed. Linda Nicholson. New York: Routledge, 1997. 158-180. MacKinnon, Catharine A., and Andrea Dworkin, eds. In Harm’s Way: The Pornography Civil Rights Hearings. Cambridge, Mass: Harvard UP, 1997. Mulvey, Laura. “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema.” Feminism and Film. Ed. E. Ann Kaplan. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2000. 34-47. Neale, Steve. “Masculinity as Spectacle: Reflections on Men and Mainstream Cinema.” Feminism and Film. Ed. E. Ann Kaplan. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2000. 253-264. Williams, Linda. “Film Bodies: Gender, Genre, and Excess.” Film Quarterly 44.4 (Summer 1991): 2-13. —-. Hard Core: Power, Pleasure, and the “Frenzy of the Visible”. Rev. ed. Berkeley: Univ. of Cal. Press, 1999. MLA Style Bolton, Michael C. "Cumming to an End: The Male Orgasm and Domestic Consumption of Gay Pornography." M/C Journal 7.4 (2004). 10 October 2004 <http://www.media-culture.org.au/0410/08_cumming.php>. APA Style Bolton, M. (2004 Oct 11). Cumming to an End: The Male Orgasm and Domestic Consumption of Gay Pornography, M/C Journal 7(4). Retrieved Oct 10 2004 from <http://www.media-culture.org.au/0410/08_cumming.php>

Introduction The accelerometer seems, at first, both advanced and dated, both too complex and not complex enough. It sits in our video game controllers and our smartphones allowing us to move beyond mere button presses into immersive experiences where the motion of the hand is directly translated into the motion on the screen, where our flesh is transformed into the flesh of a superhero. Or at least that was the promise in 2005. Since then, motion control has moved from a promised revitalization of the video game industry to a not-quite-good-enough gimmick that all games use but none use well. Rogers describes the diffusion of innovation, as an invention or technology comes to market, in five phases: First, innovators will take risks with a new invention. Second, early adopters will establish a market and lead opinion. Third, the early majority shows that the product has wide appeal and application. Fourth, the late majority adopt the technology only after their skepticism has been allayed. Finally the laggards adopt the technology only when no other options are present (62). Not every technology makes it through the diffusion, however, and there are many who have never warmed to the accelerometer-controlled video game. Once an innovation has moved into the mainstream, additional waves of innovation may take place, when innovators or early adopters may find new uses for existing technology, and bring these uses into the majority. This is the case with the accelerometer that began as an airbag trigger and today is used for measuring and augmenting human motion, from dance to health (Walter 84). In many ways, gestural control of video games, an augmentation technology, was an interlude in the advancement of motion control. History In the early 1920s, bulky proofs-of-concept were produced that manipulated electrical voltage levels based on the movement of a probe, many related to early pressure or force sensors. The relationships between pressure, force, velocity and acceleration are well understood, but development of a tool that could measure one and infer the others was a many-fronted activity. Each of these individual sensors has its own specific application and many are still in use today, as pressure triggers, reaction devices, or other sensor-based interactivity, such as video games (Latulipe et al. 2995) and dance (Chu et al. 184). Over the years, the probes and devices became smaller and more accurate, and eventually migrated to the semiconductor, allowing the measurement of acceleration to take place within an almost inconsequential form-factor. Today, accelerometer chips are in many consumer devices and athletes wear battery-powered wireless accelerometer bracelets that report their every movement in real-time, a concept unimaginable only 20 years ago. One of the significant initial uses for accelerometers was as a sensor for the deployment of airbags in automobiles (Varat and Husher 1). The sensor was placed in the front bumper, detecting quick changes in speed that would indicate a crash. The system was a significant advance in the safety of automobiles, and followed Rogers’ diffusion through to the point where all new cars have airbags as a standard component. Airbags, and the accelerometers which allow them to function fast enough to save lives, are a ubiquitous, commoditized technology that most people take for granted, and served as the primary motivating factor for the mass-production of silicon-based accelerometer chips. On 14 September 2005, a device was introduced which would fundamentally alter the principal market for accelerometer microchips. The accelerometer was the ADXL335, a small, low-power, 3-Axis device capable of measuring up to 3g (1g is the acceleration due to gravity), and the device that used this accelerometer was the Wii remote, also called the Wiimote. Developed by Nintendo and its holding companies, the Wii remote was to be a defining feature of Nintendo’s 7th-generation video game console, in direct competition with the Xbox 360 and the Playstation 3. The Wii remote was so successful that both Microsoft and Sony added motion control to their platforms, in the form of the accelerometer-based “dual shock” controller for the Playstation, and later the Playstation Move controller; as well as an integrated accelerometer in the Xbox 360 controller and the later release of the Microsoft Kinect 3D motion sensing camera. Simultaneously, computer manufacturing companies saw a different, more pedantic use of the accelerometer. The primary storage medium in most computers today is the Hard Disk Drive (HDD), a set of spinning platters of electro-magnetically stored information. Much like a record player, the HDD contains a “head” which sweeps back and forth across the platter, reading and writing data. As computers changed from desktops to laptops, people moved their computers more often, and a problem arose. If the HDD inside a laptop was active when the laptop was moved, the read head might touch the surface of the disk, damaging the HDD and destroying information. Two solutions were implemented: vibration dampening in the manufacturing process, and the use of an accelerometer to detect motion. When the laptop is bumped, or dropped, the hard disk will sense the motion and immediately park the head, saving the disk and the valuable data inside. As a consequence of laptop computers and Wii remotes using accelerometers, the market for these devices began to swing from their use within car airbag systems toward their use in computer systems. And with an accelerometer in every computer, it wasn’t long before clever programmers began to make use of the information coming from the accelerometer for more than just protecting the hard drive. Programs began to appear that would use the accelerometer within a laptop to “lock” it when the user was away, invoking a loud noise like a car alarm to alert passers-by to any potential theft. Other programmers began to use the accelerometer as a gaming input, and this was the beginning of gesture control and the augmentation of human motion. Like laptops, most smartphones and tablets today have accelerometers included among their sensor suite (Brezmes et al. 796). These accelerometers strictly a user-interface tool, allowing the phone to re-orient its interface based on how the user is holding it, and allowing the user to play games and track health information using the phone. Many other consumer electronic devices use accelerometers, such as digital cameras for image stabilization and landscape/portrait orientation. Allowing a device to know its relative orientation and motion provides a wide range of augmentation possibilities. The Language of Measuring Motion When studying accelerometers, their function, and applications, a critical first step is to examine the language used to describe these devices. As the name implies, the accelerometer is a device which measures acceleration, however, our everyday connotation of this term is problematic at best. In colloquial language, we say “accelerate” when we mean “speed up”, but this is, in fact, two connotations removed from the physical property being measured by the device, and we must unwrap these layers of meaning before we can understand what is being measured. Physicists use the term “accelerate” to mean any change in velocity. It is worth reminding ourselves that velocity (to the physicists) is actually a pair of quantities: a speed coupled with a direction. Given this definition, when an object changes velocity (accelerates), it can be changing its speed, its direction, or both. So a car can be said to be accelerating when speeding up, slowing down, or even turning while maintaining a speed. This is why the accelerometer could be used as an airbag sensor in the first place. The airbags should deploy when a car suddenly changes velocity in any direction, including getting faster (due to being hit from behind), getting slower (from a front impact crash) or changing direction (being hit from the side). It is because of this ability to measure changes in velocity that accelerometers have come into common usage for laptop drop sensors and video game motion controllers. But even this understanding of accelerometers is incomplete. Because of the way that accelerometers are constructed, they actually measure “proper acceleration” within the context of a relativistic frame of reference. Discussing general relativity is beyond the scope of this paper, but it is sufficient to describe a relativistic frame of reference as one in which no forces are felt. A familiar example is being in orbit around the planet, when astronauts (and their equipment) float freely in space. A state of “free-fall” is one in which no forces are felt, and this is the only situation in which an accelerometer reads 0 acceleration. Since most of us are not in free-fall most of the time, any accelerometers in devices in normal use do not experience 0 proper acceleration, even when apparently sitting still. This is, of course, because of the force due to gravity. An accelerometer sitting on a table experiences 1g of force from the table, acting against the gravitational acceleration. This non-zero reading for a stationary object is the reason that accelerometers can serve a second (and, today, much more common) use: measuring orientation with respect to gravity. Gravity and Tilt Accelerometers typically measure forces with respect to three linear dimensions, labeled x, y, and z. These three directions orient along the axes of the accelerometer chip itself, with x and y normally orienting along the long faces of the device, and the z direction often pointing through the face of the device. Relative motion within a gravity field can easily be inferred assuming that the only force acting on the device is gravity. In this case, the single force is distributed among the three axes depending on the orientation of the device. This is how personal smartphones and video game controllers are able to use “tilt” control. When held in a natural position, the software extracts the relative value on all three axes and uses that as a reference point. When the user tilts the device, the new direction of the gravitational acceleration is then compared to the reference value and used to infer the tilt. This can be done hundreds of times a second and can be used to control and augment any aspect of the user experience. If, however, gravity is not the only force present, it becomes more difficult to infer orientation. Another common use for accelerometers is to measure physical activity like walking steps. In this case, it is the forces on the accelerometer from each footfall that are interpreted to measure fitness features. Tilt is unreliable in this circumstance because both gravity and the forces from the footfall are measured by the accelerometer, and it is impossible to separate the two forces from a single measurement. Velocity and Position A second common assumption with accelerometers is that since they can measure acceleration (rate of change of velocity), it should be possible to infer the velocity. If the device begins at rest, then any measured acceleration can be interpreted as changes to the velocity in some direction, thus inferring the new velocity. Although this is theoretically possible, real-world factors come in to play which prevent this from being realized. First, the assumption of beginning from a state of rest is not always reasonable. Further, if we don’t know whether the device is moving or not, knowing its acceleration at any moment will not help us to determine it’s new speed or position. The most important real-world problem, however, is that accelerometers typically show small variations even when the object is at rest. This is because of inaccuracies in the way that the accelerometer itself is interpreted. In normal operation, these small changes are ignored, but when trying to infer velocity or position, these little errors will quickly add up to the point where any inferred velocity or position would be unreliable. A common solution to these problems is in the combination of devices. Many new smartphones combine an accelerometer and a gyroscopes (a device which measures changes in rotational inertia) to provide a sensing system known as an IMU (Inertial measurement unit), which makes the readings from each more reliable. In this case, the gyroscope can be used to directly measure tilt (instead of inferring it from gravity) and this tilt information can be subtracted from the accelerometer reading to separate out the motion of the device from the force of gravity. Augmentation Applications in Health, Gaming, and Art Accelerometer-based devices have been used extensively in healthcare (Ward et al. 582), either using the accelerometer within a smartphone worn in the pocket (Yoshioka et al. 502) or using a standalone accelerometer device such as a wristband or shoe tab (Paradiso and Hu 165). In many cases, these devices have been used to measure specific activity such as swimming, gait (Henriksen et al. 288), and muscular activity (Thompson and Bemben 897), as well as general activity for tracking health (Troiano et al. 181), both in children (Stone et al. 136) and the elderly (Davis and Fox 581). These simple measurements are the first step in allowing athletes to modify their performance based on past activity. In the past, athletes would pour over recorded video to analyze and improve their performance, but with accelerometer devices, they can receive feedback in real time and modify their own behaviour based on these measurements. This augmentation is a competitive advantage but could be seen as unfair considering the current non-equal access to computer and electronic technology, i.e. the digital divide (Buente and Robbin 1743). When video games were augmented with motion controls, many assumed that this would have a positive impact on health. Physical activity in children is a common concern (Treuth et al. 1259), and there was a hope that if children had to move to play games, an activity that used to be considered a problem for health could be turned into an opportunity (Mellecker et al. 343). Unfortunately, the impact of children playing motion controlled video games has been less than successful. Although fitness games have been created, it is relatively easy to figure out how to activate controls with the least possible motion, thereby nullifying any potential benefit. One of the most interesting applications of accelerometers, in the context of this paper, is the application to dance-based video games (Brezmes et al. 796). In these systems, participants wear devices originally intended for health tracking in order to increase the sensitivity and control options for dance. This has evolved both from the use of accelerometers for gestural control in video games and for measuring and augmenting sport. Researchers and artists have also recently used accelerometers to augment dance systems in many ways (Latulipe et al. 2995) including combining multiple sensors (Yang et al. 121), as discussed above. Conclusions Although more and more people are using accelerometers in their research and art practice, it is significant that there is a lack of widespread knowledge about how the devices actually work. This can be seen in the many art installations and sports research studies that do not take full advantage of the capabilities of the accelerometer, or infer information or data that is unreliable because of the way that accelerometers behave. This lack of understanding of accelerometers also serves to limit the increased utilization of this powerful device, specifically in the context of augmentation tools. Being able to detect, analyze and interpret the motion of a body part has significant applications in augmentation that are only starting to be realized. The history of accelerometers is interesting and varied, and it is worthwhile, when exploring new ideas for applications of accelerometers, to be fully aware of the previous uses, current trends and technical limitations. It is clear that applications of accelerometers to the measurement of human motion are increasing, and that many new opportunities exist, especially in the application of combinations of sensors and new software techniques. The real novelty, however, will come from researchers and artists using accelerometers and sensors in novel and unusual ways. References Brezmes, Tomas, Juan-Luis Gorricho, and Josep Cotrina. “Activity Recognition from Accelerometer Data on a Mobile Phone.” In Distributed Computing, Artificial Intelligence, Bioinformatics, Soft Computing, and Ambient Assisted Living. Springer, 2009. Buente, Wayne, and Alice Robbin. “Trends in Internet Information Behavior, 2000-2004.” Journal of the American Society for Information Science and Technology 59.11 (2008).Chu, Narisa N.Y., Chang-Ming Yang, and Chih-Chung Wu. “Game Interface Using Digital Textile Sensors, Accelerometer and Gyroscope.” IEEE Transactions on Consumer Electronics 58.2 (2012): 184-189. Davis, Mark G., and Kenneth R. Fox. “Physical Activity Patterns Assessed by Accelerometry in Older People.” European Journal of Applied Physiology 100.5 (2007): 581-589.Hagstromer, Maria, Pekka Oja, and Michael Sjostrom. “Physical Activity and Inactivity in an Adult Population Assessed by Accelerometry.” Medical Science and Sports Exercise. 39.9 (2007): 1502-08. Henriksen, Marius, H. Lund, R. Moe-Nilssen, H. Bliddal, and B. Danneskiod-Samsøe. “Test–Retest Reliability of Trunk Accelerometric Gait Analysis.” Gait & Posture 19.3 (2004): 288-297. Latulipe, Celine, David Wilson, Sybil Huskey, Melissa Word, Arthur Carroll, Erin Carroll, Berto Gonzalez, Vikash Singh, Mike Wirth, and Danielle Lottridge. “Exploring the Design Space in Technology-Augmented Dance.” In CHI’10 Extended Abstracts on Human Factors in Computing Systems. ACM, 2010. Mellecker, Robin R., Lorraine Lanningham-Foster, James A. Levine, and Alison M. McManus. “Energy Intake during Activity Enhanced Video Game Play.” Appetite 55.2 (2010): 343-347. Paradiso, Joseph A., and Eric Hu. “Expressive Footwear for Computer-Augmented Dance Performance.” In First International Symposium on Wearable Computers. IEEE, 1997. Rogers, Everett M. Diffusion of Innovations. New York: Free Press of Glencoe, 1962. Stone, Michelle R., Ann V. Rowlands, and Roger G. Eston. "Relationships between Accelerometer-Assessed Physical Activity and Health in Children: Impact of the Activity-Intensity Classification Method" The Free Library 1 Mar. 2009. Thompson, Christian J., and Michael G. Bemben. “Reliability and Comparability of the Accelerometer as a Measure of Muscular Power.” Medicine and Science in Sports and Exercise. 31.6 (1999): 897-902.Treuth, Margarita S., Kathryn Schmitz, Diane J. Catellier, Robert G. McMurray, David M. Murray, M. Joao Almeida, Scott Going, James E. Norman, and Russell Pate. “Defining Accelerometer Thresholds for Activity Intensities in Adolescent Girls.” Medicine and Science in Sports and Exercise 36.7 (2004):1259-1266Troiano, Richard P., David Berrigan, Kevin W. Dodd, Louise C. Masse, Timothy Tilert, Margaret McDowell, et al. “Physical Activity in the United States Measured by Accelerometer.” Medicine and Science in Sports and Exercise, 40.1 (2008):181-88. Varat, Michael S., and Stein E. Husher. “Vehicle Impact Response Analysis through the Use of Accelerometer Data.” In SAE World Congress, 2000. Walter, Patrick L. “The History of the Accelerometer”. Sound and Vibration (Mar. 1997): 16-22. Ward, Dianne S., Kelly R. Evenson, Amber Vaughn, Anne Brown Rodgers, Richard P. Troiano, et al. “Accelerometer Use in Physical Activity: Best Practices and Research Recommendations.” Medicine and Science in Sports and Exercise 37.11 (2005): S582-8. Yang, Chang-Ming, Jwu-Sheng Hu, Ching-Wen Yang, Chih-Chung Wu, and Narisa Chu. “Dancing Game by Digital Textile Sensor, Accelerometer and Gyroscope.” In IEEE International Games Innovation Conference. IEEE, 2011.Yoshioka, M., M. Ayabe, T. Yahiro, H. Higuchi, Y. Higaki, J. St-Amand, H. Miyazaki, Y. Yoshitake, M. Shindo, and H. Tanaka. “Long-Period Accelerometer Monitoring Shows the Role of Physical Activity in Overweight and Obesity.” International Journal of Obesity 29.5 (2005): 502-508.

Critics are always trying to catch up with the phenomena they analyse, and critics of celebrity culture are no different. For most of its history, the celebrity apparatus has had a vested interest in staying invisible. So long as it remained illegible to cultural analysis, it could claim to be simply a transparent medium for exhibiting star quality. The celebrity’s public profile could appear to be the well-earned result of talent and determination, or the seemingly magical crystallization of his or her personality. But recently, some of the mechanics of celebrity culture have gained their own prominence. This hypertrophic state produces new cultural mutations and opens new possibilities for critique. Celebrity culture has a long history of structuring the production, distribution and reception of texts around the mystique of a particularly fascinating individual (Braudy). While apparently revealing the deep selfhood of a famous person to a mass audience, the cultural apparatus of celebrity concealed the industrial conditions in which its texts were produced. The hagiographic writings of journalists and biographers, meanwhile, focussed on the unique qualities of celebrated individuals and thus functioned as an adjunct to the apparatus. Recently, an academic critique of celebrity has emerged, which strategically brackets the experience of the individual in order to focus on the phenomenon’s cultural scaffolding. P. David Marshall theorised celebrity’s place in the circulation of power, Joshua Gamson used audience interviews to broaden our understanding of how it is consumed, and Tyler Cowen analysed its effect on the economy. Richard Dyer, Joe Moran and Charles L. Ponce de Leon considered celebrity’s place in film, literature and journalism respectively. And critics such as Carl Freedman, David Shumway and Sharon O’Dair observed its incursions into politics and the academy. These studies made it possible to think critically about the mechanisms that celebrity culture had traditionally kept hidden. But I contend that celebrity culture has changed the way it operates, reflexively revealing some of its mechanisms. The structure of the apparatus is becoming as much an object of fascination as the individuals it promotes. An organic structure becomes hypertrophic when it grows in such an exaggerated way that its function in the organism or ecosystem is affected. Hypertrophic celebrity now requires cultural critics to develop new kinds of insight and sophistication. Hypertrophic celebrity culture has seen the rise of several formats for interactive cross-platform content; they include Pop Idol, Pop Stars, Fame Academy and Big Brother. Generically related to “reality TV” – whose affinities with surveillance and social control have been remarked by Andrejevic, Grindstaff and Johnson, among others – these formats also have wider significance for celebrity culture. Whilst they remain primarily broadcast television programmes, their makers are keen to maximise the possibility of interacting with them via digital TV, the Internet, email, WAP, PDAs, SMS and the telephone. Moreover, they thrive on the free publicity provided by talk shows, magazines and so on. This platform-hopping exploits an important characteristic of celebrity culture that has not previously been so apparent. Although it appears to be centred on an individual, celebrity culture is in fact radically rhizomatic. It operates as an intertextual network in which texts from several media (film, TV, photography, print) collectively create a public profile that is not, finally, under anyone’s control. The first symptom of this hypertrophy is a shift in how celebrity culture holds our attention. Each new celebrity product has to be dynamically different from what the celebrity has done before, yet also reassuringly familiar. The new work must offer new satisfactions, without detaching itself completely from a winning formula. The “classic” response to this dilemma was to structure a celebrity career around a developmental narrative of subjective growth. This marketing strategy underwrote a key element of bourgeois subjectivity. At the limit, it could lead to the multiple reinventions practised by, for example, Madonna or David Bowie, where the celebrity’s different incarnations appear to be linked by nothing but their own will to self-creation. With nothing else to lend continuity to their protean careers, we fall back on the assumption that it must be the hidden depths of their subjectivity that fascinate us so much. But the new celebrities, like other consumables, come with built-in obsolescence. Rather than developing, they are discarded. Take David Sneddon, winner of the first UK Fame Academy. His first single went straight to the top of the charts in January 2003, but by 2004 he’d quit singing to write songs instead. Or take One True Voice, the boy band constructed by Pop Stars: The Rivals. They split after releasing only two singles. As these examples suggest, what endures now is not the celebrity but the format. Just as postmodern architecture displays the ducts and pipes that make a building function, so hypertrophic celebrity foregrounds the mechanisms that manufacture celebrities. The Idols format, developed in the UK by Fremantle Media, has now reached 100 million viewers around the world. Its marketing rhetoric reveals its inherent contradictions. On one hand, it presents itself as “the televised search for a new national solo pop idol”. On the other it “continues to create major recording artists in all territories in which it airs”. Are these people discovered or created? The producers try to pander to our supposed preference for “organic” artists (The Beatles) over “manufactured” ones (The Monkees), by maintaining that they are seeking out star quality, and exposing performers to a public that can recognise talent when it sees it. But they remain fascinated by the structures that support a celebrity profile, and the Frankenstein-like possibility of creating a celebrity from scratch. Fame Academy, developed by Initial (part of Endemol UK), is even more conflicted about the status of its contestants. On one hand it presents them as hard-working young hopefuls who undertake a “gruelling” schedule in an “Academy” which appears as a parody of an English boarding school. (The press release specifies that they have to sew name-tags into their underwear and go to bed at 11pm.) They compete for a record deal with Polydor, “the UK’s leading record company”. On the other hand the producers recognise that they are not nurturing talent but constructing celebrities. The prize also includes “a show business lifestyle for a year”. The producers are clearly aware that to nurture another modestly successful recording artist is not their aim. Musical success is only one element of a package that comprises a flat, a car, a holiday, a personal stylist and tickets to “VIP events”. Since these undertakings are more concerned with the mechanics of celebrity culture than with any particular individual, it seems fitting that the formats have been far more successful than any of the contestants. The Idols format has been broadcast in 22 territories, from the USA to Kazakhstan; 6.9 million votes were cast in the first season of Fame Academy; and a third season of Pop Stars is planned. Most successful of all, however, has been Big Brother, the format developed by Endemol in the Netherlands, and exported to twenty other countries. While the other formats discussed here remain caught between paradigms of discovery and construction, Big Brother makes no pretence of searching for exceptional or talented individuals. Instead, it explores the idea that anyone can be turned into a celebrity. Exhibit A: Jade Goody. A 21-year-old dental nurse, Jade was a contestant (not the winner) on Big Brother 2 in the UK. During the series, she appeared on the front page of tabloid newspapers eighty-seven times. She went on to appear on the cover of the highest-selling issue of Heat magazine (547,000 copies), to feature in her own documentary (What Jade Did Next), to release two diet and exercise videos and to return to reality TV in Celebrity Wife Swap. Since Jade’s selling point is her entertaining ignorance, the publicists had some difficulty describing her, relying on the vague tautology “irrepressible and unstoppable”. Daniel Boorstin’s classic definition of the celebrity as someone who is “famous for being famous” does not begin to describe Jade. She is famous for having been made famous. She is the product of our new fascination with the mechanisms that make celebrity function. But while some of the mechanisms that drive that apparatus now appear on the surface, they conceal a further layer of manipulation. Behind the pseudo-democracy of American Idol lies the watertight contract that the contestants were required to sign with 19 Group, founded by Simon Fuller. It owns the rights to the names, voices, likenesses and biographies of the contestants, everywhere and forever. It also has an option on the recording, merchandising and management of the ten finalists. Behind the disembodied voice of Big Brother lies the work of a production team driven to improve audience share, advertiser revenue and viewing figures. And behind them lie the four men who form the Executive Board of Endemol, whose companies turned over 914 million Euros last year. The hypertrophy of celebrity culture leaves us once again trying to catch up. No sooner had academic critics begun to theorise the apparatus of celebrity than it started to spawn new and self-conscious mutations in which the apparatus no longer relied on its own invisibility to do its work. We will need to be light on our feet to keep up with its ongoing metastases. References Andrejevic, Mark. “The Kindler, Gentler Gaze of Big Brother: Reality TV in the Era of Digital Capitalism.” New Media and Society 4.2 (2002): 251-70. Boorstin, Daniel J. The Image, or, What Happened to the American Dream. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1961. Braudy, Leo. The Frenzy of Renown: Fame and Its History. New York: Vintage Books, 1997. Cowen, Tyler. What Price Fame? Cambridge MA: Harvard UP, 2000. Dovey, Jon. “Reality TV.” The Television Genre Book. Ed. Glen Creeber. London: British Film Institute, 2001. 134-5, 7. Dyer, Richard. Stars. London: British Film Institute, 1998. Freedman, Carl. “Polemical Afterword: Some Brief Reflections on Arnold Schwarzenegger and on Science Fiction in Contemporary American Culture.” PMLA 119.3 (2004): 539-46. Gamson, Joshua. Claims to Fame: Celebrity in Contemporary America. London: U of California P, 1994. Grindstaff, Laura. “Trashy or Transgressive? ‘Reality TV’ and the Politics of Social Control.” Thresholds: Viewing Culture 9 (1995): 46-55. Johnson, Katie N. “Televising the Panopticon: The Myth of ‘Reality-Based’ TV.” American Drama 8.2 (1999): 1-26. Marshall, P. David. Celebrity and Power: Fame in Contemporary Culture. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1997. Moran, Joe. Star Authors: Literary Celebrity in America. London: Pluto Press, 2000. O’Dair, Sharon. “Stars, Tenure and the Death of Ambition.” Michigan Quarterly Review 36.4 (1997): 607-27. O’Dair, Sharon. “Academostars Are the Symptom: What’s the Disease?” Minnesota Review: A Journal of Committed Writing 52-54 (2001): 159-74. Ponce de Leon, Charles L. Self-Exposure: Human Interest Journalism and the Emergence of Celebrity in America, 1890-1940. Chapel Hill and London: U of North Carolina P, 2002. Shumway, David. “The Star System Revisited.” Minnesota Review: A Journal of Committed Writing 52-54 (2001): 175-84. Shumway, David R. “The Star System in Literary Studies.” PMLA 112.1 (1997): 85-100. Links http://www.popidols.tv/theshow.stm – Official Pop Idol site from the UK’s ITV Network. http://www.19.co.uk/site3s.html – 19 Group, who manage the finalists of American Idol. http://www.fremantlemedia.com/page.asp?partid=12 – Fremantle Media, producers of the Idols format. http://www.salon.com/ent/feature/2002/09/18/idol_contract/index.html – Salon.com article revealing details of the contracts Idols contestants were required to sign. http://www.bbc.co.uk/pressoffice/pressreleases/stories/2003/07_july/15/fame_academy2.pdf – Fame Academy Press Pack from the BBC. http://www.bbc.co.uk/pressoffice/pressreleases/stories/2003/07_july/15/fame_academy_series2.shtml – Fame Academy Press Release from the BBC. http://www.tvtome.com/PopstarsTheRivals/ – Unofficial guide to the second season of the Pop Stars format. http://www.endemol.com – Endemol, producers of the Big Brother format. http://www.endemoluk.com – the UK arm of Endemol, parent company to Initial, who produce the Fame Academy format. http://bigbrother.channel4.com/bigbrother/ – Big Brother website from the UK’s Channel Four network. http://backtoreality.gonna.co.uk/celebs/jadegoody.htm – Profile of Jade Goody. http://www.channel4.com/entertainment/tv/microsites/B/bigbrother/news/newsstory00015.html – Press release for What Jade Did Next. http://www.davidsneddon.tv/ – Official David Sneddon Website. http://www.endemoluk.com/initial/ – Initial, “the UK’s leading producer of music entertainment and live event television”, responsible for the Fame Academy format. Part of Endemol UK. http://idolonfox.com/ – Fox TV’s American Idol Website Citation reference for this article MLA Style Mole, Tom. "Hypertrophic Celebrity." M/C Journal 7.5 (2004). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0411/08-mole.php>. APA Style Mole, T. (Nov. 2004) "Hypertrophic Celebrity," M/C Journal, 7(5). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0411/08-mole.php>.

Parity between the sexes, harmony between the religions, balance between the cultural differences: these principles all hinge upon the idealistic concept of all things in our human society being equal. In this issue of M/C Journal the notion of ‘equal’ is reviewed and discussed in terms of both its discourse and its application in real life. Beyond the concept of equal itself, uniting each author’s contribution is acknowledgement of the competing objectives which can promote bias and prejudice. Indeed, it is that prejudice, concomitant to the absence of equal treatment by and for all peoples, which is always of concern for the pursuit of social justice. Although it has been reduced to a brand-name of low calorie sugar substitute in the Australian supermarket and cafe set, the philosophical values and objectives behind the concept of equal underpin some of the most highly prized and esteemed ideals of western liberal democracy and its ideas on justice. To be equal in the modern sense means to be empowered, to enjoy the same entitlements as others and to have the same rights. At the same time, the privileges associated with being equal also come with responsibilities and it these that we continue to struggle with in our supposed enlightened age. The ideals we associate with equal are far from new, since they have informed ideas about citizenship and justice at least from the times of Ancient Greece and perhaps more problematically, the Principate period of the Roman Empire. It was out of the Principate that the notion primus inter pares (‘first among equals’) was implemented under Augustus in an effort to reconcile his role as Emperor within the Republic of Rome. This oxymoron highlights how very early in the history of Western thought inevitable compromises arose between the pursuit of equal treatment and its realisation. After all, Rome is as renowned for its Empire and Senate as it is for the way lions were fed Christians for entertainment. In the modern and postmodern world, the values around the concept of equal have become synonymous with the issue of equality, equal being a kind of applied action that has mobilised and enacted its ideals. With equality we are able to see more clearly the dialectic challenging the thesis of equal, the antitheses of unequal, and inequality. What these antitheses of equal accentuate is that anything to do with equality entails struggle and hard won gains. In culture, as in nature, things are rarely equal from the outset. As Richard Dawkins outlined in The Selfish Gene, “sperms and eggs … contribute equal number of genes, but eggs contribute far more in the way of food reserves … . Female exploitation begins here” (153). Disparities that promote certain advantages and disadvantages seem hard-wired into our chemistry, biology and subsequent natural and cultural environments. So to strive for the values around an ideal of equal means overcoming some major biological and social determinants. In other words, equality is not a pursuit for the uncommitted. Disparity, injustice, disempowerment, subjugations, winners and losers, victors and victims, oppressors and oppressed: these are the polarities that have been the hallmarks of human civilization. Traditionally, societies are slow to recognise contemporary contradictions and discriminations that deny the ideals and values that would otherwise promote a basis of equality. Given the right institutional apparatus, appropriate cultural logic and individual rationales, that which is unequal and unjust is easily absorbed and subscribed to by the most ardent defender of liberty and equality. Yet we do not have to search far afield in either time or geography to find evidence of institutionalised cultural barbarity that was predicated on logics of inequality. In the post-renaissance West, slavery is the most prominent example of a system that was highly rationalised, institutionalised, adhered to, and supported and exploited by none other than the children of the Enlightenment. The man who happened to be the principle author of one of the most renowned and influential documents ever written, the Declaration of Independence (1776), which proclaimed, “all men are created equal”, was Thomas Jefferson. He also owned 200 slaves. In the accompanying Constitution of the United States, twelve other amendments managed to take precedence over the abolition of slavery, meaning America was far from the ‘Land of the Free’ until 1865. Equal treatment of people in the modern world still requires lengthy and arduous battle. Equal rights and equal status continues to only come about after enormous sacrifices followed by relentless and incremental processes of jurisprudence. One of the most protracted struggles for equal standing throughout history and which has accompanied industrial modernity is, of course, that of class struggle. As a mass movement it represents one of the most sustained challenges to the many barriers preventing the distribution of basic universal human rights amongst the global population. Representing an epic movement of colossal proportions, the struggle for class equality, begun in the fiery cauldron of the 19th century and the industrial revolution, continued to define much of the twentieth century and has left a legacy of emancipation perhaps unrivalled on scale by any other movement at any other time in history. Overcoming capitalism’s inherent powers of oppression, the multitude of rights delivered by class struggle to once voiceless and downtrodden masses, including humane working conditions, fair wages and the distribution of wealth based on ideals of equal shares, represent the core of some of its many gains. But if anyone thought the central issues around class struggle and workers rights has been reconciled, particularly in Australia, one need only look back at the 2007 Federal election. The backlash against the Howard Government’s industrial relations legislation, branded ‘Work Choices’, should serve as a potent reminder of what the community deems fair and equitable when it comes to labor relations even amidst new economy rhetoric. Despite the epic scale and the enormous depth and breadth of class struggle across the twentieth century, in the West, the fight began to be overtaken both in profile and energy by the urgencies in equality addressed through the civil rights movement regarding race and feminism. In the 1960s the civil rights and women’s liberation movements pitted their numbers against the great bulwarks of white, male, institutional power that had up until then normalised and naturalised discrimination. Unlike class struggle, these movements rarely pursued outright revolution with its attendant social and political upheavals, and subsequent disappointments and failures. Like class struggle, however, the civil rights and feminist movements come out of a long history of slow and methodical resistance in the face of explicit suppression and willful neglect. These activists have been chipping away patiently at the monolithic racial and sexist hegemony ever since. The enormous achievements and progress made by both movements throughout the 1960s and 1970s represent a series of climaxes that came from a steady progression of resolute determination in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds. As the class, feminist and civil rights movements infiltrated the inner workings of Western democracies in the latter half of the twentieth century they promoted equal rights through advocacy and legislative and legal frameworks resulting in a transformation of the system from within. The emancipations delivered through these struggles for equal treatment have now gone on to be the near-universal model upon which contemporary equality is both based and sought in the developed and developing world. As the quest for equal status and treatment continues to advance, feminism and civil rights have since been supplanted as radical social movements by the rise of a new identity politics. Gathering momentum in the 1980s, the demand for equal treatment across all racial, sexual and other lines of identity shifted out of a mass movement mode and into one that reflects the demands coming from a more liberalised yet ultimately atomised society. Today, the legal frameworks that support equal treatment and prevents discrimination based on racial and sexual lines are sought by groups and individuals marginalised by the State and often corporate sector through their identification with specific sexual, religious, physical or intellectual attributes. At the same time that equality and rights are being pursued on these individual levels, there is the growing urgency of displaced peoples. The United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR) estimate globally there are presently 8.4 million refugees and 23.7 million uprooted domestic civilians (5). Fleeing from war, persecution or natural disasters, refugee numbers are sure to grow in a future de-stabilised by Climate Change, natural resource scarcity and food price inflation. The rights and protections of refugees entitled under international frameworks and United Nations guidelines must be respected and even championed by the foreign States they journey to. Future challenges need to address the present imbalance that promotes unjust and unequal treatment of refugees stemming from recent western initiatives like Fortress Europe, offshore holding sites like Naru and Christmas Island and the entire detention centre framework. The dissemination and continued fight for equal rights amongst individuals across so many boundaries has no real precedent in human history and represents one of the greatest challenges and potential benefits of the new millennium. At the same time Globalisation and Climate Change have rewritten the rule book in terms of what is at stake across human society and now, probably for the first time in humanity’s history, the Earth’s biosphere at large. In an age where equal measures and equal shares comes in the form of an environmental carbon footprint, more than ever we need solutions that address global inequities and can deliver just and sustainable equal outcomes. The choice is a stark one; a universal, sustainable and green future, where less equals more; or an unsustainable one where more is more but where Earth ends up equaling desolate Mars. While we seek a pathway to a sustainable future, developed nations will have to reconcile a period where things are asymmetrical and positively unequal. The developed world has to carry the heavy and expensive burden required to reduce CO2 emissions while making the necessary sacrifices to stop the equation where one Westerner equals five Indians when it comes to the consumption of natural resources. In an effort to assist and maintain the momentum that has been gained in the quest for equal rights and equal treatment for all, this issue of M/C Journal puts the ideal of ‘equal’ up for scrutiny and discussion. Although there are unquestioned basic principles that have gone beyond debate with regards to ideas around equal, problematic currents within the discourses surrounding concepts based on equality, equivalence and the principles that come out of things being equal remain. Critiquing the notion of equal also means identifying areas where seeking certain equivalences are not necessarily in the public interest. Our feature article examines the challenge of finding an equal footing for Australians of different faiths. Following their paper on the right to free speech published recently in the ‘citizen’ issue of M/C Journal, Anne Aly and Lelia Green discuss the equal treatment of religious belief in secular Australia by identifying the disparities that undermine ideals of religious pluralism. In their essay entitled “Less than Equal: Secularism, Religious Pluralism and Privilege”, they identify one of the central problems facing Islamic belief systems is Western secularism’s categorisation of religious belief as private practice. While Christian based faiths have been able to negotiate the bifurcation between public life and private faith, compartmentalising religious beliefs in this manner can run contrary to Islamic practice. The authors discuss how the separation of Church and State aspires to see all religions ignored equally, but support for a moderate Islam that sees it divorced from the public sphere is secularism’s way of constructing a less than equal Islam. Debra Mayrhofer analyses the unequal treatment received by young males in mainstream media representations in her paper entitled “Mad about the Boy”. By examining TV, radio and newspaper coverage of an ‘out-of-control teenage party’ in suburban Melbourne, Mayrhofer discusses the media’s treatment of the 16-year-old boy deemed to be at the centre of it all. Not only do the many reports evidence non-compliance with the media industry’s own code of ethics but Mayrhofer argues they represent examples of blatant exploitation of the boy. As this issue of M/C Journal goes online, news is now circulating about the boy’s forthcoming appearance in the Big Brother house and the release of a cover of the Beastie Boys’ 1986 hit “Fight for Your Right (to Party)” (see News.com.au). Media reportage of this calibre, noticeable for occurring beyond the confines of tabloid outlets, is seen to perpetuate myths associated with teenage males and inciting moral panics around the behaviour and attitudes expressed by adolescent male youth.Ligia Toutant charts the contentious borders between high, low and popular culture in her paper “Can Stage Directors Make Opera and Popular Culture ‘Equal’?” Referring to recent developments in the staging of opera, Toutant discusses the impacts of phenomena like broadcasts and simulcasts of opera and contemporary settings over period settings, as well as the role played by ticket prices and the introduction of stage directors who have been drawn from film and television. Issues of equal access to high and popular culture are explored by Toutant through the paradox that sees directors of popular feature films that can cost around US$72M with ticket prices under US$10 given the task of directing a US$2M opera with ticket prices that can range upward of US$200. Much has been written about newly elected Australian Prime Minister Kevin Rudd’s apology to the Stolen Generations of Aboriginal Australians whereas Opposition Leader Brendan Nelson’s Apology has been somewhat overlooked. Brooke Collins-Gearing redresses this imbalance with her paper entitled “Not All Sorrys Are Created Equal: Some Are More Equal than ‘Others.’” Collins-Gearing responds to Nelson’s speech from the stance of an Indigenous woman and criticises Nelson for ignoring Aboriginal concepts of time and perpetuating the attitudes and discourses that led to the forced removal of Aboriginal children from their families in the first place. Less media related and more science oriented is John Paull’s discussion on the implications behind the concept of ‘Substantial Equivalence’ being applied to genetically modified organisms (GMO) in “Beyond Equal: From Same But Different to the Doctrine of Substantial Equivalence”. Embraced by manufacturers of genetically modified foods, the principle of substantial equivalence is argued by Paull to provide the bioengineering industry with a best of both worlds scenario. On the one hand, being treated the ‘same’ as elements from unmodified foods GMO products escape the rigours of safety testing and labelling that differentiates them from unmodified foods. On the other hand, by also being defined as ‘different’ they enjoy patent protection laws and are free to pursue monopoly rights on specific foods and technologies. It is easy to envisage an environment arising in which the consumer runs the risk of eating untested foodstuffs while the corporations that have ‘invented’ these new life forms effectively prevent competition in the marketplace. This issue of M/C Journal has been a pleasure to compile. We believe the contributions are remarkable for the broad range of issues they cover and for their great timeliness, dealing as they do with recent events that are still fresh, we hope, in the reader’s mind. We also hope you enjoy reading these papers as much as we enjoyed working with their authors and encourage you to click on the ‘Respond to this Article’ function next to each paper’s heading, aware that there is the possibility for your opinions to gain equal footing with those of the contributors if your response is published. References Dawkins, Richard. The Selfish Gene. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1976.News.com.au. “Oh, Brother, So It’s Confirmed – Corey Set for House.” 1 May 2008. 3 May 2008 < http://www.news.com.au/entertainment/story/0,26278,23627561-10229,00.html >.UNHCR – The UN Refugee Agency. The World’s Stateless People. 2006. 2 May 2008 < http://www.unhcr.org/basics/BASICS/452611862.pdf >.

A variety of digital technologies exist that can transform sound waves into binary code. Any sound can be ‘sampled’ in this way: drum beats, field recordings, even full-length instrumental or vocal tracks. Copies are then ready to be duplicated, cut, spliced, pitch-shifted, equalised, turned backwards, and/or passed through a myriad of different effects processors before being sequenced and layered into a final stereo mix. Once obtained, this mix is itself eminently copy-able without loss in audio quality. Moreover, affordable digital reproduction media abound, such as CD-R and MP3. These methods of distribution are as attractive to the home audio producer as they are to the file-sharing enthusiast. On one end of the spectrum one finds an increasing number of people downloading music and creating personalised mix CDs or play-lists, irrespective of the constraints of copyright. On the other end, one observes established pop musicians such as Björk writing original choral arrangements, only to sing them into hard-disk recording systems for further remixing prior to commercial release (as on her last album Medúlla (2004)). Somewhere in the middle lies DJ Danger Mouse’s The Grey Album, an unsanctioned (and widely downloaded) remix of the Beatles White Album (1968) mashed together with a-cappella raps from Jay Z’s The Black Album (2003). It is as though audio in the digital age has become an ‘utterly malleable material’ (Miller 20), leaving only the sound selector and manipulator as the all-powerful source of creativity, musical genius and/or surreptitious intent (in the case of file sharing). To date, the majority of academic work on digital sound practices relies upon this suggestion that technology has provided us with almost total control over recorded sound (see Miller, Mudede, Pinch and Bijsterveld, Lysoff, Cascone, Théberge, and Jones). While digital methods for copying audio have been available for over 20 years, the technology involved has far from exhausted its potential to open up new forms of musical composition, cultural expression, and social exchange. In fact, the practices it has enabled are so multifaceted that the only limit in this case appears to be our imagination. This begs the question as to what limits this imagination, if anything? Do the sounds we mix not require us to attend to their particular shape before we bring them into alignment with other sources? What techniques must we employ to make room for their specific timbres? What constraints lead to the adoption of these techniques over others? How and why are these sounds chosen in the first place? What are the resources or archives used? It is through such questioning that the ‘give and take’ involved in digital audio production becomes apparent. The technologies used are not simply vehicles of personal expression – they represent an entire family of practices employed in a wide variety of unique scenarios. No two situations will be exactly alike, but there will be resemblances. These similarities and/or differences are as much the result of constraints prescribed by one’s sonic starting-points as they are the product of individual style. Such a symmetrical perspective is paramount in the development of analyses that accurately reflect the heterogeneity of digital audio practices. In the rest of this article I attend to the production methods of three Montreal-based sound artists. Quotations from personal interview are contrasted against the dominant academic view of digital audio as a vehicle of subjective control over sound. Jennifer Morris (a.k.a. ‘[sic]’) works mostly with field recordings as well as sounds that she collects by close-micing instruments such as the guitar or Japanese koto. When asked about how her sonic source material affects her work, Morris’ answer reflects a deep respect for the individual character of the sounds she chooses to copy and remix. At the same time she is not afraid to alter samples in search of new experimental mixing trajectories. In her words: My work is composed from the source material. It is a very organic process that begins with the selection of a few sounds and usually ends with using none of them and sounding completely different from what I set out to do. That’s what I love most, the sources control the work completely. (Jennifer Morris, a.k.a. ‘[sic]’, interviewed by Owen Chapman, 14 Dec. 2004) Morris habitually begins her compositional process with short copied extracts of longer recordings that she then transforms with the aid of various pieces of sound software and hardware to the point where they are barely recognisable. She will often discard her initial sound-selections as new timbres emerge through her experimentation. Nevertheless, Morris claims that this process is guided by her sources completely. In so doing she ascribes the latter a type of agency. There is a reverence in her words even in the way she describes the task of collecting sounds for future use. Instead of copying audio that fits the musical plans she has in her head, Morris waits for sounds to set off her ‘sampling radar’, so to speak. As she says about the sounds she gathers in her field recording practice, ‘Even if they [cannot be] heard by the human ear, I try to figure out ways to capture them, with a pickup and such.’ The sounds she selects are then allowed to guide her treatment of them based upon their own characteristics, such as sonic density, frequency range and mood. For Anna Friz (a.k.a. ‘A2Z’), however, the material she copies when starting a new sound piece sometimes ends up driving the work, and at other times not. When asked about the impact of her initial sound selections upon her final product, she answered: I think that sometimes it is the indexical relationship that the samples have with where they came from that … you’re drawn to and that you want to use, you want to emphasize. And in that case I think that some of the samples do make some decisions for you. Because there are certain things that, you know, depending on who you are you would choose not to do to a sample. (Anna Friz, a.k.a. ‘A2Z’, interviewed by Owen Chapman, 9 Sept. 2004) In elaborating this point Friz mentions a particular recording she possesses from the clash between police and protesters at the APEC summit in Vancouver in 1999. A member of staff from the radio station where she was working (CiTR) had called from the protest on a cell phone and was describing the pandemonium that was breaking out all around him. The urgency and panic in his voice as he shouts ‘They’re advancing right now…and we’re running, we’re running,’ became an artifact that she felt she must protect. As she said: ‘I didn’t want to just plant it into something without a context, because, for me it came from such a political place that I really wanted to preserve that.’ This sound fragment became the foundation for a political piece that she later composed in response to the treatment of protestors at the Quebec FTAA summit (co-produced with Richard Williams and entitled: ‘there’s a risk of arrest if you turn right’ (2001)). As with Morris, Friz often ends up radically transforming the sources she starts with. Interestingly, while Morris describes this as following intuitions laid out for her in the original material, Friz tends towards a more subjective interpretation of the mixing process: [I’ll take] something out of context because it just has a certain feel to it, a texture, or a pitch or tone or something and I just think: ‘That’s a good sound. I could turn that into something else – it will go with these other things. While this answer might resemble accounts focused on subjective expression through digital audio, it is important to recognize that Friz has no problem admitting to being impacted by a specific sound before deciding to displace it from its original context. In my own case I feel as though my usual source material (musical fragments copied from vinyl records) dramatically affects the work I end up producing. I’ll start by sampling a short passage uncovered on one record and, through working with it, be led towards other parts of my collection in search of other sounds. The process of composition unfolds organically as each additional element reveals hidden aspects of the samples already selected. This is where the affect of selection in digital sound art becomes most apparent, in the unique nature of every juxtaposition or mix. Contrary to predominant opinion, this mixing is as much guided by spontaneous inspiration based on aural-reaction as it is the subjective will of the mixer. This holds for all cases of digital audio manipulation – whether we are discussing studio production, sampling, file sharing or mash-ups, the common feature in all of these practices is the (re)collecting of recorded sounds in a way which, to quote Walter Benjamin, ‘studies and loves them as the scene, the stage, of their fate.’ (Benjamin 60). Asserting increased aural control as paramount to users of digital audio technology reduces a complex interactive relationship to one of master and slave. Although extraordinary editing precision is now possible when compared to the days of magnetic tape, copying, splicing and transforming audio with digital equipment is still very much about responsive listening. Those looking to write about the relationship between digital audio technology and contemporary practices of music making must never overlook the affective dimension of sound – its fleeting presence as vibrations of the ear drum. For recorded audio, no matter how many times it has been copied, it must always pass through a singular moment of conversion into moving air molecules in order to be experienced – at which point there is nothing left for us to do but listen and learn. References Benjamin, Walter. “On Unpacking My Library: A Talk about Book Collecting.” Illuminations. Ed. Hannah Arendt. New York: Shocken, 1969. Cascone, Kim. “Laptop Music: Counterfeiting Aura in the Age of Infinite Reproduction.” Parachute Fall, 2002. Jones, Steve. Rock Formation: Music, Technology and Mass Communication. Newbury Park, Calif.: Sage, 1992. Lysoff, Rene T. A. “Musical Community on the Internet: An On-Line Ethnography.” Cultural Anthropology 18.2 (2003): 233-63. Miller, Paul D. a.k.a DJ Spooky That Subliminal Kid. Rhythm Science. Mediawork Pamphlets. Ed. Peter Lunenfeld. New York: Mediawork, 2004. Mudede, Charles. “The Turntable.” ctheory 126 (24 April 2003). Pinch, Trevor J, and Karen Bijsterveld. “Should One Applaud? Breaches and Boundaries in the Reception of New Technology in Music.” Technology and Culture 44.3 (2003): 536-59. Théberge, Paul. Any Sound You Can Imagine: Making Music/Consuming Technology. Hanover, NH: UP of New England, 1997. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Chapman, Owen. "The Affect of Selection in Digital Sound Art." M/C Journal 8.3 (2005). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0507/03-chapman.php>. APA Style Chapman, O. (Jul. 2005) "The Affect of Selection in Digital Sound Art," M/C Journal, 8(3). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0507/03-chapman.php>.

It is January 1930 and the restless Southern Ocean is heaving itself up against the frozen coast of Eastern Antarctica. For hundreds of kilometres, this coastline consists entirely of ice: although Antarctica is a continent, only 2% of its surface consists of exposed rock; the rest is buried under a vast frozen mantle. But there is rock in this coastal scene: silhouetted against the glaring white of the glacial shelf, a barren island humps up out of the water. Slowly and cautiously, the Discovery approaches the island through uncharted waters; the crew’s eyes strain in the frigid air as they scour the ocean’s surface for ship-puncturing bergs. The approach to the island is difficult, but Captain Davis maintains the Discovery on its course as the wind howls in the rigging. Finally, the ship can go no further; the men lower a boat into the tossing sea. They pull hard at the oars until the boat is abreast of the island, and then they ram the bow against its icy littoral. Now one of the key moments of this exploratory expedition—officially titled the British, Australian, and New Zealand Antarctic Research Expedition (BANZARE)—is about to occur: the expedition is about to succeed in its primary spatial mission. Douglas Mawson, the Australian leader of the expedition, puts his feet onto the island and ascends to its bleak summit. There, he and his crew assemble a mound of loose stones and insert into it the flagpole they’ve carried with them across the ocean. Mawson reads an official proclamation of territorial annexation (see Bush 118-19), the photographer Frank Hurley shoots the moment on film, and one of the men hauls the Union Jack up the pole. Until the Australian Flags Act of 1953, the Union Jack retained seniority over the Australian flag. BANZARE took place before the 1931 Statute of Westminster, which gave full political and foreign policy independence to Commonwealth countries, thus Mawson claimed Antarctic space on behalf of Britain. He did so with the understanding that Britain would subsequently grant Australia title to its own Antarctican space. Britain did so in 1933. In the freezing wind, the men take off their hats, give three cheers for the King, and sing “God Save the King.” They deposit a copy of the proclamation into a metal canister and affix this to the flagpole; for a moment they admire the view. But there is little time to savour the moment, or the feeling of solid ground under their cold feet: the ship is waiting and the wind is growing in force. The men row back to the Discovery; Mawson returns to his cabin and writes up the event. A crucial moment in Antarctica’s spatial history has occurred: on what Mawson has aptly named Proclamation Island, Antarctica has been produced as Australian space. But how, exactly, does this production of Antarctica as a spatial possession work? How does this moment initiate the transformation of six million square kilometres of Antarctica—42% of the continent—into Australian space? The answer to this question lies in three separate, but articulated cultural technologies: representation, the body of the explorer, and international territorial law. When it comes to thinking about ‘turf’, Antarctica may at first seem an odd subject of analysis. Physically, Antarctica is a turfless space, an entire continent devoid of grass, plants, land-based animals, or trees. Geopolitically, Antarctica remains the only continent on which no turf wars have been fought: British and Argentinian soldiers clashed over the occupation of a Peninsular base in the Hope Bay incident of 1952 (Dodds 56), but beyond this somewhat bathetic skirmish, Antarctican space has never been the object of physical conflict. Further, as Antarctica has no indigenous human population, its space remains free of the colonial turfs of dispossession, invasion, and loss. The Antarctic Treaty of 1961 formalised Antarctica’s geopolitically turfless status, stipulating that the continent was to be used for peaceful purposes only, and stating that Antarctica was an internationally shared space of harmony and scientific goodwill. So why address Antarctican spatiality here? Two motivations underpin this article’s anatomising of Australia’s Antarctican space. First, too often Antarctica is imagined as an entirely homogeneous space: a vast white plain dotted here and there along its shifting coast by identical scientific research stations inhabited by identical bearded men. Similarly, the complexities of Antarctica’s geopolitical and legal spaces are often overlooked in favour of a vision of the continent as a site of harmonious uniformity. While it is true that the bulk of Antarctican space is ice, the assumption that its cultural spatialities are identical is far from the case: this article is part of a larger endeavour to provide a ‘thick’ description of Antarctican spatialities, one which points to the heterogeneity of cultural geographies of the polar south. The Australian polar spatiality installed by Mawson differs radically from that of, for example, Chile; in a continent governed by international consensus, it is crucial that the specific cultural geographies and spatial histories of Treaty participants be clearly understood. Second, attending to complexities of Antarctican spatiality points up the intersecting cultural technologies involved in spatial production, cultural technologies so powerful that, in the case of Antarctica, they transformed nearly half of a distant continent into Australian sovereign space. This article focuses its critical attention on three core spatialising technologies, a trinary that echoes Henri Lefebvre’s influential tripartite model of spatiality: this article attends to Australian Antarctic representation, practise, and the law. At the turn of the twentieth century, Scott, Shackleton, and Amundsen trooped over the polar plateau, and Antarctic space became a setting for symbolic Edwardian performances of heroic imperial masculinity and ‘frontier’ hardiness. At the same time, a second, less symbolic, type of Antarctican spatiality began to evolve: for the first time, Antarctica became a potential territorial possession; it became the object of expansionist geopolitics. Based in part on Scott’s expeditions, Britain declared sovereignty over an undefined area of the continent in 1908, and France declared Antarctic space its own in 1924; by the late 1920s, what John Agnew and Stuart Corbridge refer to as the nation-state ontology—that is, the belief that land should and must be divided into state-owned units—had arrived in Antarctica. What the Adelaide Advertiser’s 8 April 1929 headline referred to as “A Scramble for Antarctica” had begun. The British Imperial Conference of 1926 concluded that the entire continent should become a possession of Britain and its dominions, New Zealand and Australia (Imperial). Thus, in 1929, BANZARE set sail into the brutal Southern Ocean. Although the expedition included various scientists, its primary mission was not to observe Antarctican space, but to take possession of it: as the expedition’s instructions from Australian Prime Minister Bruce stated, BANZARE’s mission was to produce Antarctica as Empire’s—and by extension, Australia’s—sovereign space (Jacka and Jacka 251). With the moment described in the first paragraph of this article, along with four other such moments, BANZARE succeeded; just how it did so is the focus of this work. It is by now axiomatic in spatial studies that the job of imperial explorers is not to locate landforms, but to produce a discursive space. “The early travellers,” as Paul Carter notes of Australian explorers, “invented places rather than found them” (51). Numerous analytical investigations attend to the discursive power of exploration: in Australia, Carter’s Road to Botany Bay, Simon Ryan’s Cartographic Eye, Ross Gibson’s Diminishing Paradise, and Brigid Hains’s The Ice and the Inland, to name a few, lay bare the textual strategies through which the imperial annexation of “new” spaces was legitimated and enabled. Discursive territoriality was certainly a core product of BANZARE: as this article’s opening paragraph demonstrates, one of the key missions of BANZARE was not simply to perform rituals of spatial possession, but to textualise them for popular and governmental consumption. Within ten months of the expedition’s return, Hurley’s film Southward Ho! With Mawson was touring Australia. BANZARE consisted of two separate trips to Antarctica; Southward Ho! documents the first of these, while Siege of the South documents the both the first and the second, 1930-1, mission. While there is not space here to provide a detailed textual analysis of the entire film, a focus on the “Proclamation Island moment” usefully points up some of the film’s central spatialising work. Hurley situated the Proclamation Island scene at the heart of the film; the scene was so important that Hurley wished he had been able to shoot two hours of footage of Mawson’s island performance (Ayres 194). This scene in the film opens with a long shot of the land and sea around the island; a soundtrack of howling wind not only documents the brutal conditions in which the expedition worked, but also emphasises the emptiness of Antarctican space prior to its “discovery” by Mawson: in this shot, the film visually confirms Antarctica’s status as an available terra nullius awaiting cooption into Australian understanding, and into Australian national space. The film then cuts to a close-up of Mawson raising the flag; the sound of the wind disappears as Mawson begins to read the proclamation of possession. It is as if Mawson’s proclamation of possession stills the protean chaos of unclaimed Antarctic space by inviting it into the spatial order of national territory: at this moment, Antarctica’s agency is symbolically subsumed by Mawson’s acquisitive words. As the scene ends, the camera once again pans over the surrounding sea and ice scape, visually confirming the impact of Mawson’s—and the film’s—performance: all this, the shot implies, is now made meaningful; all this is now understood, recorded, and, most importantly, all this is now ours. A textual analysis of this filmic moment might identify numerous other spatialising strategies at work: its conflation of Mawson’s and the viewer’s proprietary gazes (Ryan), its invocation of the sublime, or its legitimising conflation of the ‘purity’ of the whiteness of the landscape with the whiteness of its claimants (Dyer 21). However, the spatial productivity of this moment far exceeds the discursive. What is at times frustrating about discourse analyses of spatiality is that they too often fail to articulate representation to other, equally potent, cultural technologies of spatial production. John Wylie notes that “on the whole, accounts of early twentieth-century Antarctic exploration exhibit a particular tendency to position and interpret exploratory experience in terms of self-contained discursive ensembles” (170). Despite the undisputed power of textuality, discourse alone does not, and cannot, produce a spatial possession. “Discursive and representational practices,” as Jane Jacobs observes, “are in a mutually constitutive relationship with political and economic forces” (9); spatiality, in other words, is not simply a matter of texts. In order to understand fully the process of Antarctican spatial acquisition, it is necessary to depart from tales of exploration and ships and flags, and to focus on the less visceral spatiality of international territorial law. Or, more accurately, it is necessary to address the mutual imbrication of these two articulated spatialising “domains of practice” (Dixon). The emerging field of critical legal geography is founded on the premise that legal analyses of territoriality neglect the spatial dimension of their investigations; rather than seeing the law as a means of spatial production, they position space as a neutral, universally-legible entity which is neatly governed by the “external variable” of territorial law (Blomley 28). “In the hegemonic conception of the law,” Wesley Pue argues, “the entire world is transmuted into one vast isotropic surface” (568) upon which law acts. Nicholas Blomley asserts, however, that law is not a neutral organiser of space, but rather a cultural technology of spatial production. Territorial laws, in other words, make spaces, and don’t simply govern them. When Mawson planted the flag and read the proclamation, he was producing Antarctica as a legal space as well as a discursive one. Today’s international territorial laws derive directly from European imperialism: as European empires expanded, they required a spatial system that would protect their newly-annexed lands, and thus they developed a set of laws of territorial acquisition and possession. Undergirding these laws is the ontological premise that space is divisible into state-owned sovereign units. At international law, space can be acquired by its imperial claimants in one of three main ways: through conquest, cession (treaty), or through “the discovery of terra nullius” (see Triggs 2). Antarctica and Australia remain the globe’s only significant spaces to be transformed into possessions through the last of these methods. In the spatiality of the international law of discovery, explorers are not just government employees or symbolic representatives, but vessels of enormous legal force. According to international territorial law, sovereign title to “new” territory—land defined (by Europeans) as terra nullius, or land belonging to no one—can be established through the eyes, feet, codified ritual performances, and documents of explorers. That is, once an authorised explorer—Mawson carried documents from both the Australian Prime Minister and the British King that invested his body and his texts with the power to transform land into a possession—saw land, put his foot on it, planted a flag, read a proclamation, then documented these acts in words and maps, that land became a possession. These performative rituals and their documentation activate the legal spatiality of territorial acquisition; law here is revealed as a “bundle of practices” that produce space as a possession (Ford 202). What we witness when we attend to Mawson’s island performance, then, is not merely a discursive performance, but also the transformation of Antarctica into a legal space of possession. Similarly, the films and documents generated by the expedition are more than just a “sign system of human ambition” (Tang 190), they are evidence, valid at law, of territorial possession. They are key components of Australia’s legal currency of Antarctican spatial purchase. What is of central importance here is that Mawson’s BANZARE performance on Proclamation Island is a moment in which the dryly legal, the bluntly physical, and the densely textual clearly intersect in the creation of space as a possession. Australia did not take possession of forty-two percent of Antarctica after BANZARE by law, by exploration, or by representation alone. The Australian government built its Antarctic space with letters patent and legal documents. BANZARE produced Australia’s Antarctic possession through the physical and legal rituals of flag-planting, proclamation-reading, and exploration. BANZARE further contributed to Australia’s polar empire with maps, journals, photos and films, and cadastral lists of the region’s animals, minerals, magnetic fields, and winds. The law of “discovery of terra nullius” coalesced these spaces into a territory officially designated as Australian. It is crucial to recognise that the production of nearly half of Antarctica as Australian space was, and is not a matter of discourse, of physical performance, or of law alone. Rather, these three cultural technologies of spatial production are mutually imbricated; none can function without the others, nor is one reducible to an epiphenomenon of another. To focus on the discursive products of BANZARE without attending to the expedition’s legal work not only downplays the significance of Mawson’s spatialising achievement, but also blinds us to the role that law plays in the production of space. Attending to Mawson’s Proclamation Island moment points to the unique nature of Australia’s Antarctic spatiality: unlike the US, which constructs Antarctic spatiality as entirely non-sovereign; and unlike Chile, which bases its Antarctic sovereignty claim on Papal Bulls and acts of domestic colonisation, Australian Antarctic space is a spatiality of possession, founded on a bedrock of imperial exploration, representation, and law. Seventy-four years ago, the camera whirred as a man stuck a flagpole into the bleak summit rocks of a small Antarctic island: six million square kilometres of Antarctica became, and remain, Australian space. Works Cited Agnew, John, and Stuart Corbridge. Mastering Space: Hegemony, Territory and International Political Economy. London: Routledge, 1995. Ayres, Philip. Mawson: A Life. Melbourne: Melbourne UP, 1999. Blomley, Nicholas. Law, Space, and the Geographies of Power. New York: Guilford, 1994. Bush, W. M. Antarctica and International Law: A Collection of Inter-State and National Documents. Vol. 2. London: Oceana, 1982. Carter, Paul. The Road to Botany Bay: An Essay in Spatial History. London: Faber, 1987. Dixon, Rob. Prosthetic Gods: Travel, Representation and Colonial Governance. Brisbane: UQP, 2001. Dodds, Klaus. Geopolitics in Antarctica: Views from the Southern Oceanic Rim. Chichester: Wiley, 1997. Dyer, Richard. White. London: Routledge, 1997. Ford, Richard. “Law’s Territory (A History of Jurisdiction).” The Legal Geographies Reader. Ed. Nicholas Blomley and Richard Ford. Oxford: Blackwell, 2001. 200-17. Gibson, Ross. The Diminishing Paradise: Changing Literary Perceptions of Australia. Sydney: Sirius, 1984. Hains, Brigid. The Ice and the Inland: Mawson, Flynn, and the Myth of the Frontier. Melbourne: Melbourne UP, 2002. Imperial Conference, 1926. Summary of Proceedings. London: His Majesty’s Stationary Office, 1926. Jacka, Fred, and Eleanor Jacka, eds. Mawson’s Antarctic Diaries. Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 1988. Jacobs, Jane. Edge of Empire: Postcolonialism and the City. London: Routledge, 1996. Pue, Wesley. “Wrestling with Law: (Geographical) Specificity versus (Legal) Abstraction.” Urban Geography 11.6 (1990): 566-85. Ryan, Simon. The Cartographic Eye: How the Explorers Saw Australia. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1996. Tang, David. “Writing on Antarctica.” Room 5 1 (2000): 185-95. Triggs, Gillian. International Law and Australian Sovereignty in Antarctica. Sydney: Legal, 1986. Wylie, John. “Earthly Poles: The Antarctic Voyages of Scott and Amundsen.” Postcolonial Geographies. Ed Alison Blunt and Cheryl McEwan. London: Continuum, 2002. 169-83. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Collis, Christy. "Australia’s Antarctic Turf" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture <http://www.media-culture.org.au/0403/02-feature-australia.php>. APA Style Collis, C. (2004, Mar17). Australia’s Antarctic Turf. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture,7,<http://www.media-culture.org.au/0403/02-feature australia.php>

Introduction A snapshot, not unlike countless photographs likely to be found in any number of family albums, shows two figures sitting on a park bench: an elderly and amiable looking man grins beneath the rim of a golf cap; a young boy of twelve smiles wide for the camera — a rather banal scene, captured on film. And yet, this seemingly innocent and unexceptional photograph was the site of a remarkable and wide ranging discourse — encompassing American conservatism, celebrity politics, and the end of the Cold War — as the image circulated around the globe during the weeklong state funeral of Ronald Wilson Reagan, 40th president of the United States. Taken in 1997 by the young boy’s grandfather, Ukrainian immigrant Yakov Ravin, during a chance encounter with the former president, the snapshot is believed to be the last public photograph of Ronald Reagan. Published on the occasion of the president’s death, the photograph made “instant celebrities” of the boy, now a twenty-year-old college student, Rostik Denenburg and his grand dad. Throughout the week of Reagan’s funeral, the two joined a chorus of dignitaries, politicians, pundits, and “ordinary” Americans praising Ronald Reagan: “The Great Communicator,” the man who defeated Communism, the popular president who restored America’s confidence, strength, and prosperity. Yes, it was mourning in America again. And the whole world was watching. Not since Princess Diana’s sudden (and unexpected) death, have we witnessed an electronic hagiography of such global proportions. Unlike Diana’s funeral, however, Reagan’s farewell played out in distinctly partisan terms. As James Ridgeway (2004) noted, the Reagan state funeral was “not only face-saving for the current administration, but also perhaps a mask for the American military debacle in Iraq. Not to mention a gesture of America’s might in the ‘war on terror.’” With non-stop media coverage, the weeklong ceremonies provided a sorely needed shot in the arm to the Bush re-election campaign. Still, whilst the funeral proceedings and the attendant media coverage were undeniably excessive in their deification of the former president, the historical white wash was not nearly so vulgar as the antiseptic send off Richard Nixon received back in 1994. That is to say, the piety of the Nixon funeral was at once startling and galling to many who reviled the man (Lapham). By contrast, given Ronald Reagan’s disarming public persona, his uniquely cordial relationship with the national press corps, and most notably, his handler’s mastery of media management techniques, the Reagan idolatry was neither surprising nor unexpected. In this brief essay, I want to consider Reagan’s funeral, and his legacy, in relation to what cultural critics, referring to the production of celebrity, have described as “fame games” (Turner, Bonner & Marshall). Specifically, I draw on the concept of “flashpoints” — moments of media excess surrounding a particular personage — in consideration of the Reagan funeral. Throughout, I demonstrate how Reagan’s death and the attendant media coverage epitomize this distinctive feature of contemporary culture. Furthermore, I observe Reagan’s innovative approaches to electoral politics in the age of television. Here, I suggest that Reagan’s appropriation of the strategies and techniques associated with advertising, marketing and public relations were decisive, not merely in terms of his electoral success, but also in securing his lasting fame. I conclude with some thoughts on the implications of Reagan’s legacy on historical memory, contemporary politics, and what neoconservatives, the heirs of the Reagan Revolution, gleefully describe as the New American Century. The Magic Hour On the morning of 12 June 2004, the last day of the state funeral, world leaders eulogized Reagan, the statesmen, at the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C. Among the A-List political stars invited to speak were Margaret Thatcher, former president George H. W. Bush and, to borrow Arundhati Roi’s useful phrase, “Bush the Lesser.” Reagan’s one-time Cold War adversary, Mikhail Gorbachev, as well as former Democratic presidents, Jimmy Carter and Bill Clinton were also on hand, but did not have speaking parts. Former Reagan administration officials, Supreme Court justices, and congressional representatives from both sides of the aisle rounded out a guest list that read like a who’s who of the American political class. All told, Reagan’s weeklong sendoff was a state funeral at its most elaborate. It had it all—the flag draped coffin, the grieving widow, the riderless horse, and the procession of mourners winding their way through the Rotunda of the US Capitol. In this last regard, Reagan joined an elite group of seven presidents, including four who died by assassination — Abraham Lincoln, James Garfield, William McKinley and John F. Kennedy — to be honored by having his remains lie in state in the Rotunda. But just as the deceased president was product of the studio system, so too, the script for the Gipper’s swan song come straight out of Hollywood. Later that day, the Reagan entourage made one last transcontinental flight back to the presidential library in Simi Valley, California for a private funeral service at sunset. In Hollywood parlance, the “magic hour” refers to the quality of light at dusk. It is an ideal, but ephemeral time favored by cinematographers, when the sunlight takes on a golden glow lending grandeur, nostalgia, and oftentimes, a sense of closure to a scene. This was Ronald Reagan’s final moment in the sun: a fitting end for an actor of the silver screen, as well as for the president who mastered televisual politics. In a culture so thoroughly saturated with the image, even the death of a minor celebrity is an occasion to replay film clips, interviews, paparazzi photos and the like. Moreover, these “flashpoints” grow in intensity and frequency as promotional culture, technological innovation, and the proliferation of new media outlets shape contemporary media culture. They are both cause and consequence of these moments of media excess. And, as Turner, Bonner and Marshall observe, “That is their point. It is their disproportionate nature that makes them so important: the scale of their visibility, their overwhelmingly excessive demonstration of the power of the relationship between mass-mediated celebrities and the consumers of popular culture” (3-4). B-Movie actor, corporate spokesman, state governor and, finally, US president, Ronald Reagan left an extraordinary photographic record. Small wonder, then, that Reagan’s death was a “flashpoint” of the highest order: an orgy of images, a media spectacle waiting to happen. After all, Reagan appeared in over 50 films during his career in Hollywood. Publicity stills and clips from Reagan’s film career, including Knute Rockne, All American, the biopic that earned Reagan his nickname “the Gipper”, King’s Row, and Bedtime for Bonzo provided a surreal, yet welcome respite from television’s obsessive (some might say morbidly so) live coverage of Reagan’s remains making their way across country. Likewise, archival footage of Reagan’s political career — most notably, images of the 1981 assassination attempt; his quip “not to make age an issue” during the 1984 presidential debate; and his 1987 speech at the Brandenburg Gate demanding that Soviet President Gorbachev, “tear down this wall” — provided the raw materials for press coverage that thoroughly dominated the global mediascape. None of which is to suggest, however, that the sheer volume of Reagan’s photographic record is sufficient to account for the endless replay and reinterpretation of Reagan’s life story. If we are to fully comprehend Reagan’s fame, we must acknowledge his seminal engagement with promotional culture, “a professional articulation between the news and entertainment media and the sources of publicity and promotion” (Turner, Bonner & Marshall 5) in advancing an extraordinary political career. Hitting His Mark In a televised address supporting Barry Goldwater’s nomination for the presidency delivered at the 1964 Republican Convention, Ronald Reagan firmly established his conservative credentials and, in so doing, launched one of the most remarkable and influential careers in American politics. Political scientist Gerard J. De Groot makes a compelling case that the strategy Reagan and his handlers developed in the 1966 California gubernatorial campaign would eventually win him the presidency. The centerpiece of this strategy was to depict the former actor as a political outsider. Crafting a persona he described as “citizen politician,” Reagan’s great appeal and enormous success lie in his uncanny ability to project an image founded on traditional American values of hard work, common sense and self-determination. Over the course of his political career, Reagan’s studied optimism and “no-nonsense” approach to public policy would resonate with an electorate weary of career politicians. Charming, persuasive, and seemingly “authentic,” Reagan ran gubernatorial and subsequent presidential campaigns that were distinctive in that they employed sophisticated public relations and marketing techniques heretofore unknown in the realm of electoral politics. The 1966 Reagan gubernatorial campaign took the then unprecedented step of employing an advertising firm, Los Angeles-based Spencer-Roberts, in shaping the candidate’s image. Leveraging their candidate’s ease before the camera, the Reagan team crafted a campaign founded upon a sophisticated grasp of the television industry, TV news routines, and the medium’s growing importance to electoral politics. For instance, in the days before the 1966 Republican primary, the Reagan team produced a five-minute film using images culled from his campaign appearances. Unlike his opponent, whose television spots were long-winded, amateurish and poorly scheduled pieces that interrupted popular programs, like Johnny Carson’s Tonight Show, Reagan’s short film aired in the early evening, between program segments (De Groot). Thus, while his opponent’s television spot alienated viewers, the Reagan team demonstrated a formidable appreciation not only for televisual style, but also, crucially, a sophisticated understanding of the nuances of television scheduling, audience preferences and viewing habits. Over the course of his political career, Reagan refined his media driven, media directed campaign strategy. An analysis of his 1980 presidential campaign reveals three dimensions of Reagan’s increasingly sophisticated media management strategy (Covington et al.). First, the Reagan campaign carefully controlled their candidate’s accessibility to the press. Reagan’s penchant for potentially damaging off-the-cuff remarks and factual errors led his advisors to limit journalists’ interactions with the candidate. Second, the character of Reagan’s public appearances, including photo opportunities and especially press conferences, grew more formal. Reagan’s interactions with the press corps were highly structured affairs designed to control which reporters were permitted to ask questions and to help the candidate anticipate questions and prepare responses in advance. Finally, the Reagan campaign sought to keep the candidate “on message.” That is to say, press releases, photo opportunities and campaign appearances focused on a single, consistent message. This approach, known as the Issue of the Day (IOD) media management strategy proved indispensable to advancing the administration’s goals and achieving its objectives. Not only was the IOD strategy remarkably effective in influencing press coverage of the Reagan White House, this coverage promoted an overwhelmingly positive image of the president. As the weeklong funeral amply demonstrated, Reagan was, and remains, one of the most popular presidents in modern American history. Reagan’s popular (and populist) appeal is instructive inasmuch as it illuminates the crucial distinction between “celebrity and its premodern antecedent, fame” observed by historian Charles L. Ponce de Leone (13). Whereas fame was traditionally bestowed upon those whose heroism and extraordinary achievements distinguished them from common people, celebrity is a defining feature of modernity, inasmuch as celebrity is “a direct outgrowth of developments that most of us regard as progressive: the spread of the market economy and the rise of democratic, individualistic values” (Ponce de Leone 14). On one hand, then, Reagan’s celebrity reflects his individualism, his resolute faith in the primacy of the market, and his defense of “traditional” (i.e. democratic) American values. On the other hand, by emphasizing his heroic, almost supernatural achievements, most notably his vanquishing of the “Evil Empire,” the Reagan mythology serves to lift him “far above the common rung of humanity” raising him to “the realm of the divine” (Ponce de Leone 14). Indeed, prior to his death, the Reagan faithful successfully lobbied Congress to create secular shrines to the standard bearer of American conservatism. For instance, in 1998, President Clinton signed a bill that officially rechristened one of the US capitol’s airports to Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport. More recently, conservatives working under the aegis of the Ronald Reagan Legacy Project have called for the creation of even more visible totems to the Reagan Revolution, including replacing Franklin D. Roosevelt’s profile on the dime with Reagan’s image and, more dramatically, inscribing Reagan in stone, alongside Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln and Teddy Roosevelt at Mount Rushmore (Gordon). Therefore, Reagan’s enduring fame rests not only on the considerable symbolic capital associated with his visual record, but also, increasingly, upon material manifestations of American political culture. The High Stakes of Media Politics What are we to make of Reagan’s fame and its implications for America? To begin with, we must acknowledge Reagan’s enduring influence on modern electoral politics. Clearly, Reagan’s “citizen politician” was a media construct — the masterful orchestration of ideological content across the institutional structures of news, public relations and marketing. While some may suggest that Reagan’s success was an anomaly, a historical aberration, a host of politicians, and not a few celebrities — Bill Clinton, George W. Bush, and Arnold Schwarzenegger among them — emulate Reagan’s style and employ the media management strategies he pioneered. Furthermore, we need to recognize that the Reagan mythology that is so thoroughly bound up in his approach to media/politics does more to obscure, rather than illuminate the historical record. For instance, in her (video taped) remarks at the funeral service, Margaret Thatcher made the extraordinary claim — a central tenet of the Reagan Revolution — that Ronnie won the cold war “without firing a shot.” Such claims went unchallenged, at least in the establishment press, despite Reagan’s well-documented penchant for waging costly and protracted proxy wars in Afghanistan, Africa, and Central America. Similarly, the Reagan hagiography failed to acknowledge the decisive role Gorbachev and his policies of “reform” and “openness” — Perestroika and Glasnost — played in the ending of the Cold War. Indeed, Reagan’s media managed populism flies in the face of what radical historian Howard Zinn might describe as a “people’s history” of the 1980s. That is to say, a broad cross-section of America — labor, racial and ethnic minorities, environmentalists and anti-nuclear activists among them — rallied in vehement opposition to Reagan’s foreign and domestic policies. And yet, throughout the weeklong funeral, the divisiveness of the Reagan era went largely unnoted. In the Reagan mythology, then, popular demonstrations against an unprecedented military build up, the administration’s failure to acknowledge, let alone intervene in the AIDS epidemic, and the growing disparity between rich and poor that marked his tenure in office were, to borrow a phrase, relegated to the dustbin of history. In light of the upcoming US presidential election, we ought to weigh how Reagan’s celebrity squares with the historical record; and, equally important, how his legacy both shapes and reflects the realities we confront today. Whether we consider economic and tax policy, social services, electoral politics, international relations or the domestic culture wars, Reagan’s policies and practices continue to determine the state of the union and inform the content and character of American political discourse. Increasingly, American electoral politics turns on the pithy soundbite, the carefully orchestrated pseudo-event, and a campaign team’s unwavering ability to stay on message. Nowhere is this more evident than in Ronald Reagan’s unmistakable influence upon the current (and illegitimate) occupant of the White House. References Covington, Cary R., Kroeger, K., Richardson, G., and J. David Woodward. “Shaping a Candidate’s Image in the Press: Ronald Reagan and the 1980 Presidential Election.” Political Research Quarterly 46.4 (1993): 783-98. De Groot, Gerard J. “‘A Goddamed Electable Person’: The 1966 California Gubernatorial Campaign of Ronald Reagan.” History 82.267 (1997): 429-48. Gordon, Colin. “Replace FDR on the Dime with Reagan?” History News Network 15 December, 2003. http://hnn.us/articles/1853.html>. Lapham, Lewis H. “Morte de Nixon – Death of Richard Nixon – Editorial.” Harper’s Magazine (July 1994). http://www.harpers.org/MorteDeNixon.html>. Ponce de Leon, Charles L. Self-Exposure: Human-Interest Journalism and the Emergence of Celebrity in America, 1890-1940. Chapel Hill: U of North Carolina P, 2002. Ridgeway, James. “Bush Takes a Ride in Reagan’s Wake.” Village Voice (10 June 2004). http://www.villagevoice.com/issues/0423/mondo5.php>. Turner, Graeme, Frances Bonner, and P. David Marshall. Fame Games: The Production of Celebrity in Australia. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2000. Zinn, Howard. The Peoples’ History of the United States: 1492-Present. New York: Harper Perennial, 1995. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Howley, Kevin. "Always Famous: Or, The Electoral Half-Life of Ronald Reagan." M/C Journal 7.5 (2004). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0411/17-howley.php>. APA Style Howley, K. (Nov. 2004) "Always Famous: Or, The Electoral Half-Life of Ronald Reagan," M/C Journal, 7(5). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0411/17-howley.php>.

This article treads a fine line. I want to discuss the way that particular contemporary pop soloists talk about, and are talked about in terms of, authentic identity. And I want to use this to make an argument about the significance of those claims within a broader cultural dialogue about identity; specifically: that they demonstrate the persistent popular desirability of “authentic identity” in the face of its perceived theoretical indefensibility and supposed loss of significance. But I want to do all this without perpetuating the tendency for popular music scholarship to engage “authenticity” as the basis for assessing the relative merits of different musical forms. Rather than adjudicating on competing claims to authenticity, I want to ask: when specifically attached to identity, what does the claim to authenticity do? This paper investigates popular ways of speaking about the identities of three soloists: Britney Spears; Christina Aguilera; and Jennifer Lopez. All three combine aurally undemanding mass-market pop with a public persona organised under a rubric of authenticity. Irrespective of whether the claims made about the authenticity of their identities could be judged illegitimate, the repeated references to authenticity within this context engenders a taken-for-grantedness about its significance with regard to identity. As a way of describing this operation it seems useful to liberally adapt ideas advanced by Meaghan Morris and describe pop celebrities as operating like sites where anecdotes accumulate to establish a specific discursive context for identity. Morris writes that anecdotes are ‘functional’ in that they are: orientated futuristically towards the construction of a precise, local and social discursive context, of which the anecdote then functions as a mise en abyme (Morris 150). This is complex and parts of it require some re-engineering before it can be usefully adapted as a model for discussing celebrity. The “future orientation” operates somewhat differently in this context from how it operates within the kind of writing practice that Morris was seeking to promote. For Morris, the anecdote grounds an academic writing practice by smuggling in a day-to-day way of conceiving of the workings of the world. The “future orientation” is an invitation for a writing practice to engage in the kind of explication that could draw currently marginal or impossible ideas and experiences into a precise discursive context. This is different from the kind of operation that I want to describe. In the stories told about the authenticity of these pop celebrities there is similarly a “future orientation” but here it is one where constant evocation works toward amassing significance around a particular idea. Specifically, I am arguing that constant repetition of “authentic” and its cognates in thinking and speaking of these pop soloists makes that term appear crucial for identity. So this is a situation where very many anecdotes, derived from a common model of the way that identity could be said to be working, construct by virtue of their similarity a particular discursive context for identity. They work to actually form that context rather than simply inviting it. While each alone can serve as that discursive context’s mise en abyme, their role is not restricted to that. Each anecdote is less important in its singularity than it is as part of an accumulation. Spears, Aguilera and Lopez are repeatedly the subjects of anecdotes themed around the idea of authenticity — anecdotes which regularly employ the terms “real” or “realness.” The examples which I am about to give I am using advisedly, being aware of popular music scholarship’s repeated warnings about the dangers of the kind of scholarly analysis that gives too much regard to what musicians sing or say. I am not using these examples in order to seek to challenge or verify the truthfulness of the claims made in lyrics or interviews. My interest is more in examining the kinds of claims that are made. A Rolling Stone profile of Spears reveals that: “Real” is very important to Britney. Her upcoming movie, tentatively titled Not a Girl [released as Crossroads], is, in her estimation, “really real.” Sarandon is one of Britney’s favourite actresses because she “has a realness about her.” And one of her biggest pet peeves, she says after a moment’s thought, is “fake people.” (Eliscu 58) Similarly, Aguilera has observed of the content of her song “I’m OK” (2002) — which seems to address the domestic abuse she suffered in childhood — that ‘everything’s really real’ (quoted in Heath 55). In fact, she introduces her album with the part spoken, part sung “Stripped – Part One” (2002), which begins: Allow me to introduce myself I want you to come a little closer I’d like you to get to know me a little bit better Meet the real me. And Lopez has commented, while discussing her debut album On The 6 (1999): Someone said to me: “it’s so you. It couldn’t be anything but that. It’s natural – you’re not faking anything. This is who you are.” (Jennifer Lopez: Feelin’ So Good 2000) Whether or not each woman speaks or sings these words in earnest — irrespective of whether the words represent what she “really” thinks or feels — there is a persistent and significant reiteration of the idea of the “real” self. Morris observes that ‘anecdotes need not be true stories’ in order to operate but it is necessary that they ‘be functional in a given exchange’ (150). Adopting this idea, it is possible to circumvent the question of the truthfulness of these claims to being “real.” This is useful because it enables a description of how each anecdote need not itself be a true story in order to posit the “real” or the “authentic.” It is precisely this somewhat paradoxical potential that makes the anecdote so versatile a tool for the celebrity to claim “authentic” identity. Lopez, for example, sings in “Jenny From the Block” (2002) that staying real is so effortless for her that ‘it’s like breathing.’ She is simply asserting that she embodies a qualitatively better, more authentic way of being a person. At one level it is a patently ridiculous statement. But at another it is quite an effective mobilisation of “real” as a self-descriptive term, coming as it does in a context where there is no scope to argue the point. Had she written a philosophical paper on how real she was, there would be a clearer basis on which to challenge her claim. But instead she is using a medium — pop music — with obvious links neither to veracity nor “realness.” The supposed “inauthenticity” of the context is no bar on her claim and in fact has the effect of making it difficult to challenge. To claim, as Morris does, that ‘anecdotes need not be true stories’ (150) is, however, somewhat disingenuous. Certainly an anecdote can function allegorically even if its truthfulness is doubtful, but it is precisely a sense of the possibility that “it actually happened” that differentiates an anecdote from overtly fictional kinds of story. It is this possibility that enables anecdotes to function as what Morris describes as ‘allegorical expositions of a model of the way that the world can be said to be working’ (150). The actual person associated with the pop soloist’s story about authenticity enables that story to appear as an allegorical exposition of the real workings of the world. There is, for example, an actual person “Jennifer Lopez” who at least appears to embody “Jenny from the block.” This actual person is the guarantee of the allegory’s potential applicability to other actual people — people who might potentially include ourselves. I have chosen to focus on pop music soloists because they seem specially equipped to engender these kinds of anecdotes that work to allegorise what an identity might be. Their individuation is a constantly present and pressing issue. The appearance of unique identity is felt to be commercially necessary as a means for differentiating between the work of different soloists. Elaborate individuation is employed to guarantee this differentiation, encouraging the prevalence of anecdotes of authentically distinct identity. In addition to this, the lack of the group identity that a band might provide means that there is relatively little apparent mediation between the soloist’s personal identity and their music’s form and content. Lopez has described how: The music is just you. It’s you out there on your own… As a solo artist it’s you – very solo. (Jennifer Lopez: Feelin’ So Good 2000) While her comment is rather circular, that circularity usefully expresses how the ‘music’, the ‘you’ and the ‘artist’ appear indivisible when she is ‘out there’ on her own. The singularity of the source of the voice — it at least appears to come from just one person — adds to the hyper-individuation of the pop star; it makes her appear ‘very solo.’ This means that the songs do not even have to be explicitly about the self in order to appear as symptomatic of singular identity. The anecdotes told about the authentic identities of Spears, Aguilera and Lopez tend to associate authenticity either with their own control over their representation or with the lifelong persistence of childhood characteristics. These aspects are encapsulated in an interview in Esquire magazine, which is worth quoting extensively, in which Lopez describes how: People always ask me, “Have you changed from what you were?” And I’m always like, “No way!” And they find it so hard to believe. And I go, “Look, I’m not saying my life hasn’t changed. But I am still the person I started off as.” Has it affected me? Do things get weird? Yes. But I am still Jennifer. I did grow up poor… And now it’s different. It’s different because I worked hard to get here. And I never take it for granted. I really do realize, like, oh my gosh, I wanted to do this my whole life and now I’m able to do it. It feels amazing, you know what I mean? (Lopez in Sager 60) The implication of this kind of anecdote is that being authentic has made Lopez successful and now, her dreams having come true, she can revel in her success. Authenticity promises enviable kinds of pleasure. Even if this is a myth, it is a powerful and powerfully attractive one. This puts these anecdotes quite clearly at odds with a general tendency within cultural theory, where “authentic” has lost favour as a descriptive term and an alternative set of terms have been developed for describing identity as, variously; mobile, flexible, changeable, or performative. At the risk of dangerously complicating my argument at this late stage, it appears that these anecdotes about authentic identity serve for this academic tendency a function not dissimilar to Morris’s original intention for anecdotes. What I mean by this is that they invite the attempt to develop a discursive context for identity that could incorporate an account of what appears to be a persistent cultural attachment to authenticity. In serving this function, these anecdotes raise a series of questions with which I will conclude: Does the persistent desirability of authentic identity mean that the shift toward avowedly postmodern identities has been less pervasive than has been suggested elsewhere (that stopping to be certain kinds of selves is not happening all that quickly)? Or does it mean that despite the shift toward avowedly postmodern identities, ideals of identity are still imagined in ‘outdated’ terms (that the ways of describing things hasn’t caught up to the way things are)? Or is the maintenance of a mythical ideal of authenticity necessary to make palatable an existence within a changeable, temporary or mobile identity? Footnote What I am avoiding is the unproductive question: is the music “authentic”? Popular music scholarship has been profoundly influenced — haunted, perhaps — by the work of Theodor Adorno, who was profoundly antithetical towards popular music. Adorno’s main bone of contention was that, despite its regular and varied claims to authenticity, popular music was invariably — even inevitably — inauthentic (1976). Due in no small part to Adorno’s influence, the question of the relative authenticity of different musicians or musical forms has operated as a kind of touchstone in writing about popular music (Leppert 346-47). Charles Hamm provides a useful history and an explicit critique of the discourse of authenticity within writing about popular music (1995). The creation of hierarchies of authenticity serve partly, he writes, as a means of differentiating the author’s taste from the relative ignorance in which mass taste is seen to be formed (15). Hamm views this theoretical preoccupation as the result of the persistence of modernist narratives — particularly neo-Marxism — within popular music scholarship (23-27), underpinned by an assumption that ‘capitalist production negates “authentic” expression by certain groups’ (25). Popular music scholarship, he observes, has consequently privileged ‘marginal, oppositional, or so-called authentic genres or repertoires… Commercially viable music, if studied at all, is usually placed in an oppositional context’ (36). References Adorno, Theodor W. Introduction to the Sociology of Music. New York: Seabury Press, 1976. Aguilera, Christina. “Stripped – Part One.” Stripped. New York: RCA, 2002. —. “I’m OK.” Stripped. New York: RCA, 2002. Eliscu, Jenny. “Britney’s Just like a Woman But She Breaks Just like a Little Girl.” Rolling Stone, 13 Sep. 2001: 56. Hamm, Charles. Putting Popular Music in Its Place. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1995. Heath, Chris. “Has Anyone Seen Christina?” Rolling Stone, 14 Nov. 2002, 50-5. Leppert, Richard. Essays on Music / Theodor W. Adorno. Berkeley: U of California P, 2002. Lopez, Jennifer. “Jenny from The Block.” This Is Me… Then. New York: Epic, 2002. Lopez, Jennifer. On the 6. New York: Sony, 1999. Morris, Meaghan. “Banality in Cultural Studies.” What is Cultural Studies?: A Reader. Ed. John Storey. London: Arnold, 1997. 147-67. Sager, Mike. “What Does It Feel Like to Be Jennifer Lopez?” Esquire Aug. 2003: 60. Jennifer Lopez: Feelin’ So Good. Videorecording. Dir. Benny Medina. New York: Sony, 2000. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Tregoning, William. "'Very Solo': Anecdotes of Authentic Identity." M/C Journal 7.5 (2004). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0411/04-tregoning.php>. APA Style Tregoning, W. (Nov. 2004) "'Very Solo': Anecdotes of Authentic Identity," M/C Journal, 7(5). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0411/04-tregoning.php>.

“Di? Di? Come on, Di. I know you’re in there.” It would have been better if she had just said nothing, just lay there. The voice would have gone away eventually. She did attempt a small silence, leaning back on her pillow and listened to the rattling of the door handle, then a sigh, and an ongoing tapping. “Di?” Finally, she couldn’t help herself. “Fuck off, Nic.” “Come on, Di. What’s up?” “Why don’t you go and find someone else to rip off?” “What do you mean?” “You know what I mean.” “What’s wrong? Come on, let me in, Di. Please?” The door to Diana’s King Street bed-sit was pink, the paint chipped. She threw a cushion at it, producing a dull thumping sound followed by a soft whistle as the polyester cover slid down toward the floor. “So, where’d you take it all to, Nic?” Diana raised her voice to the ceiling. “What was it worth to you?” There was no answer. She could feel bitterness rising in her throat. “What am I supposed to do now? You want me to go down to the fucking pawn shop and buy back my own stuff just so you can come and rip me off again?” Silence. A shifting of weight. The sliding of cloth against the door. Then, again: tap, tap. “Di?” A low, childish whisper. “Don’t shut me out, Di, please, I need you.” Something compelled Diana Kooper. She rose up from her spot on the futon and moved toward the closed door. The movement seemed to stretch out momentarily, as if offering the chance to change her mind, to sit down again, to forget. But she did none of these things, instead opening the door with a swish and a body fell immediately into the room. Diana was ready for it. Her hands landed quickly on the soft hollow of Nicole’s armpits, pulling the other girl further inside then pinning her by the shoulders to the filthy carpet. She climbed on top of the body and knocked the head against the floor, hard. Soon she was aware only of sounds: fabric tearing; the soft whoosh of her friend’s breath beneath shawls of hair. Diana discovered a vital physical strength fed by rage and despair: a blinding extravagance of will. But Nicole fought back, so that Diana too was flung against the furniture legs, against the floor, against the corner of the low bed. Blood swam from their noses and skin burnt at hips, knees, elbows. They knocked into an open cupboard door, sending empty containers and food packaging like celebratory confetti across the stained carpet. They were using fists, boots, wrangles, pinches. They were tripping each other up, wedging grit and splinters and skin beneath short fingernails. Wrestling gave way briefly to a round of boxing. Diana could picture the kids practising in the warehouse near their old place in Glebe. Maybe Nicole could see them too. For a moment the girls were fenced in by thick red ropes. They had bright silk shorts on. Diana could feel her right fist clenched at her side, burning to lodge a lethal knock. She was raking up stray instructions from the schoolyard: Go for the soft temple / Avoid the jaw / Form the fist right / Dance! Dance on your feet. Diana’s bare fist made sharp contact with an eye, flinging the other girl back. Nicole stumbled and held one hand across her damaged eyelid, trying to refocus. Diana smirked, too pleased with herself. She had only glanced away momentarily when she felt something land with the force against her own gut. Suddenly the wind was gone from her. Breathing is life. Life is breathing. She folded forward and fell. The world blackened. When she came to there was a smell of hot metal. The electric kettle had boiled dry. There was a pillow beneath her head, and the familiar shape of Nicole Carr sprawled out on the bed beside her. “Oh, God,” she said. All that effort, for nothing. The body beside her moaned in response. Diana got up and turned off the kettle. Diana had coined the term Big Change Trouble when she was small. It was something she reckoned she could sense early, before others got a whiff of it. It was the kind of trouble she had watched her mother trying to dodge at the last minute, the way drivers who speed are forced to dodge sudden obstacles on the road, without much success. When she was a kid, Big Change Trouble meant the convergence of all number of small trouble things - things to do with her mother’s drinking, things to do with money, or things to do with school. It started with little ruptures right across all the stuff she’d gotten used to. Sometimes it was like she was outside of herself, looking down, watching it all going on, and always this sense that nobody else could make out it quite like she could. Just before she did the bolt from Sydney, Diana could sense that eerie childhood feeling, so rotten, so familiar. It rose up the day after she and Nicole had beat the shit out of each other. She went to work, as usual, in the bar in Redfern in the late afternoon, her limbs tired and sore. Dick Richards, the guy who always gave her good, reliable tips, stood at the bar rubbing his hand across his left nipple and saying “Caaaw,” widening his eyes and blinking. She got an odd feeling, watching the way his t-shirt creased beneath his hand as he rubbed. Maybe he was actually having a heart attack, right there at the bar. She felt removed from him, on edge, and said nothing that might have helped. She was more concerned that there was something wrong with one of her work shoes. The rubber sole was coming off at the front, and it was flip-flapping around, getting stuck on the edges of the bar mats. Twice she nearly tripped carrying two full schooners of Resch’s. Later one of the other regulars, Marty Miller, told her about how he had to walk home all the way from St Peters the previous afternoon, because he had these three boils on his arse and they had burst, and even though one of his mates went by and offered him a lift, he didn’t want to get in. He didn’t want to make a mess on his mates’ seat. It was so bad, he wouldn’t even have gotten into a taxi. It was about eight kilometres he had to walk. He was the nicest guy, Marty, but he didn’t generally talk too much, it was unlike him to even be standing at the bar. Usually he drank over by the window, looking out at the street. Diana was left wondering about him, long after he’d gone home. Marty Miller and the boils on his arse, the blood and puss leaking down his legs as he walked. Why did he have to tell her about it? That night, Jeff Fenech was due to defend his WBC Featherweight Title. Skychannel was broadcasting it live. Gradually, the place filled up and soon there wasn’t a punter in the whole pub who wasn’t barracking for Fenech. It was dead busy. Diana’s boss, Micheal, was completely stoned. He kept smiling and pointing at the bruises on her face and shaking his head, but he was smiling from the wrong side of the bar. There should have been two of them serving. It was annoying. Beryl and Matt’s two kids came in again, they must be six and eight years old, and Diana had to keep her eyes on them as they pushed their way through the crowd to find Mum and Dad at their usual spot in front of the card machines. Probably just asking for money for a feed, poor buggers, but they weren’t supposed to come into the pub, especially at night, especially in a big crowd like this. She lost track of them, couldn’t tell if they’d already gone or not. Big Change Trouble gives a certain flavour to everything. It might as well have been in the beer itself, the yeasty scent of it filling the room every time a drinker exhaled. Jeff Fenech went to twelve rounds with the tiny little Mexican, Mario Martinez. It was a long, monotonous fight with barely any drama in it. Jeff wasn’t at his best. “His hands are fucked,” people were saying. “His fucking hands are ratshit.” There’d been too many fractures, too many punches over too many years. It was difficult to watch. Everybody sensed the champion’s reign close to being over. Jeff won the fight, but it wasn’t with anything you could call style. The pub emptied out quickly after that. It was like someone had just taken a giant scoop out of the place, and everybody was gone, even Dick Richards. She put up the stools, wiped down the bar, emptied the flat amber fluid out of the trays. When she got outside, she watched two taxis go past with their “Engaged” signs up, even though there was no one but the drivers in them. Several mounted police turned out of Raglan Street and she could hear the sound of their horse’s hooves against the blacktop, the clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop ricocheting up and down the length of near empty Botany Road. Her little Suzuki coughed to a start and she drove home the back way through this odd disquiet. When she got to the laneway behind her King Street bed-sit, she was met by the picture of Nicole Carr walking into the stream of her headlights. Nicole held up a limp hand, shielding her face from the light. “What?” “You gotta help me, Di. I want to get clean.” She seemed thinner than ever, her hair all flat. “I want to give it a go, I mean it, really,” she said through the open driver’s window. “I got to stay away from Harry.” She followed Diana up the stairs. “You’ve got to help me keep away from him, Di. We’re bad for each other.” Nicole was going to move out of Harry’s place in Bondi and find a place of her own. She was going to work two jobs and save to go to a private college, do a course in natural medicine. Diana could tell she’d had a hit not long before she arrived. Her friend sat at the table, flicking her hair back out of her eyes and doodling on an old telephone bill. They went to sleep a little after one, but Diana slept lightly. At seven, Nicole was up and getting restless, wandering in small loops around the tiny space. Diana tried to sleep on, raising an eyelid occasionally to see Nicole hunched over, biting her nails, staring out into space. They ate blueberry yoghurt for breakfast, sharing the same spoon, eating straight out of the tub. Diana was supposed to be at the TAFE that morning, to see about a supplementary exam. And she was due to start at her shift at The Royal at two. But she was afraid to leave. If she left, Nicole might go out. If Nicole went out, that would be the end of it. “You must hate me,” Nicole said, sulkily. “Yes and no.” The bed-sit had very little in it. The old blue fridge rumbled and buzzed. Nicole had already stolen the stereo, the television, the microwave, even the little dual ring gas cooktop. There were two folding chairs beside a fold-out table. There was the futon. Diana shared the bathroom down the hall with Bernie and Wanda, the drag queens in the next room. The tiny bed-sit’s best feature was a set of French doors, opening onto a railing and overlooking the busy road below. The breeze, or sometimes just the hot air created by the ceaseless traffic, made the red curtains above the doorway dance and sway. The girls sat watching this dance for most of the morning. Funny the way the fabric lifted, ballooned then fell. Lifted, ballooned, then fell. There was something in it. And yet, also, there was nothing. Soon Nicole Carr’s stomach would knot into a long, sharp cramp. Citation reference for this article Substitute your date of access for Dn Month Year etc... MLA Style BLoon, Julienne van. "An Excerpt from the Novella Moving" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 6.1 (2003). Dn Month Year < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0302/02-feature.php>. APA Style Loon, J. v., (2003, Feb 26). An Excerpt from the Novella Moving. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture, 6,(1). Retrieved Month Dn, Year, from http://www.media-culture.org.au/0302/02-feature.html