Journal articles on the topic 'Royal Commission on the Laws of Marriage'

In the second half of the fifteenth and the first half of the sixteenth century the Frankapani of Krk, Senj, and Modruš were at the peak of their power. This family of Croatian counts was networked through marriage from the Adriatic to the Baltic Sea with Italian, Hungarian, Austrian, and German royal and aristocratic families. Their presence in the courts of their next of kin, as well as their in-laws, is therefore not surprising, whether it be the Roman Curia or the Hohenzollern Branderburger Palace in Berlin. In such a wide system of communications, the Frankapani presented themselves to the European public as a multilingual family ready to promulgate not only the written heritage nurtured during the Middle Ages in Croatia (Latin and Glagolitic), but also ready to adopt, promote, and disseminate the written heritage of their spouses (Italian, German, Hungarian). The following examples attest to this statement: the Roman breviary translated into the German language by Christopher Frankapan and his wife Apollonia Lang printed in 1518 in Venice, the anti-Turkish speech in Latin delivered by Christopher’s father, Bernardin, before the German assembly in Nuremberg and printed in 1522 for the occasion, the translated epistles of Saint Paul, from Latin to Hungarian, donated by Catherine Frankapan married to Gabriel (Gábor) Perényi, printed in Krakow in 1533, and the first Croatian- language breviary written in the Latin script, rather than in the Glagolitic, commissioned by Catherine Frankapan married to Nicholas Zrinski, published in 1560 in Padua.

The „Royal Commission on Monuments and Landscapes” of Belgium was one of the first European institutions to emerge in the 19th century and lay the foundations for the systematic protection of cultural heritage. In fact, it was created by decree of King Leopold I on January 7, 1835. The Royal Commission was set up a few years before the adoption of municipal and provincial laws, which became the backbone of the Belgian democratic and decentralized regime. In 1860, the structure of the Royal Commission changed – committees were established at the provincial level under the chairmanship of the governors. The committees were tasked with gathering information on the ground and overseeing the preservation of monuments or works of art. The Royal Commission was commissioned to make a general inventory of artifacts of art and antiquity belonging to public institutions, the preservation of which is important for the history of art and national archeology. Following the enactment of the Landscape Beauty Act of 1911, a section of landscapes appeared in the Royal Commission, approved by a royal decree of May 29, 1912. Since then, it has received its current name, the Royal Commission on Monuments and Landscapes. Members of the Royal Commission have developed an internal classification of monuments, as well as landscapes and places of most interest to the Kingdom. This practice led to the gradual adoption of the concept of classification, which was first approved in the Law of 7 August 1931 on the Preservation of Monuments and Landscapes. The law of 1931 was the culmination of almost a century of efforts by the Royal Commission. Thanks to him, Belgium has acquired a modern legal arsenal that allows for a real policy on heritage protection. Since then, the Commission has become the most important body for dealing with requests for work with classified objects and the official source of requests for classification proposals.

In October 1915, in the middle of World War I, the chief of staff of the Royal and Imperial Army, Franz Conrad von Hötzendorf, consulted the authorities on a private matter. While “the fatherland was fighting a bloody battle for its very existence, and the army and people were turning to their generals full of alarm,” the general was contemplating marriage. However, Austrian marriage laws stood in the way of his plans. Virginia (Gina) Agujari, Conrad's “chosen one,” had since 1896 been in a Catholic marriage with the industrialist Hans von Reininghaus.

The findings and recommendations emanating from the Australian Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse (2012–2017) have advised religious organisations that they need to undertake significant changes to legal, governance and cultural/theological practices. The reason for urgency in enacting these changes is that religious organisations were the least child safe institutions across all Australian organisations, with poor practices of transparency, accountability and responsibility coupled with a tendency to protect the reputation of the institution above the safety of children in their care. In Australia, new state laws have been enacted and are impacting on the internal governance systems of religious organisations, including removing the secrecy of the Catholic confessional, instituting mandatory reporting of child abuse by clerics and criminalising the failure to report child sexual abuse. Religious organisations have moved to adopt many of the recommendations regarding their troubled governance including the professionalisation of religious ministry; adoption of professional standards; and appropriate redress for survivors and changes to religious laws. However, these changes signal significant challenges to current church–state relations, which have been characterised by positioning religious organisations as special institutions that enjoy exemptions from certain human rights legislation, on the basis of protecting religious freedom. This article examines and evaluates the nexus between state and religion in Australian public life as it is emerging in a post-Royal Commission environment, and in particular contested claims around the meaning and value of religious freedom versus the necessity of institutional reform to ensure that religious organisations can demonstrate safety for children and other vulnerable groups.

Historians have long debated the relationship between the Spanish Crown and its colonial subjects. The issue has taken on an additional dimension as our knowledge of the lives of women expands. Recently published works describe the statutes promulgated by royal authorities to regulate the institution of marriage. But what was the actual result of these laws once they crossed the Atlantic Ocean? Were they followed to the letter, partially enforced, or ignored? Did they apply to some groups and not to others? In order to answer these and other questions it seemed appropriate to focus upon the laws governing marriage and the effect of their implementation on a specific group of women—the wives of regular army officers who served in Venezuela during the last half of the eighteenth century.

In 2014, Kenyan parliamentarian Odhiambo Millie MP tabled the Assisted Reproductive Technology (ART) Bill [2019] to regulate assisted reproduction. The Bill restricts surrogacy to married couples only, prohibits payment to surrogates and makes no provision for surrogacy services or its oversight. It is modelled on the United Kingdom's surrogacy laws, although this article confirms the UK's surrogacy laws were intended to discourage surrogacy in the first place, and a Law Commission review shall be published in 2022. In 2007, Thiankolu Muthomi called for Kenyan-designed ART legislation. Kenya's customary woman-to-woman marriage is examined as a taking-off point for technologising Kenya's surrogacy services. The woman-to-woman marriage was constitutionally protected in 2010 and embedded by the enactment of the Protection of Traditional Knowledge and Cultural Expressions Act No. 33 [2016] that promotes the right to cultural expression. This cultural reality should provide the launching pad for a more permissive and auditable surrogacy legislation in Kenya and transferability to sub-Saharan Africa burdened, with the exception of South Africa, by unregulated ART practice.

Everyone knows that Edwin Chadwick wrote the New Poor Law; or, rather, that he wrote the report – issued in 1834 by the royal commission appointed two years earlier to inquire into the poor laws – which formed the basis for the New Poor Law. The well-informed among us might add the name of the political economist Nassau Senior as Chadwick's co-author. But few would be able to supply any of the further seven names which stood with Chadwick's and Senior's as co-signatories to the report. These seven royal commissioners were Bishop Blomfield of London, Bishop Sumner of Chester, William Sturges Bourne, M.P., the Rev. Henry Bishop, Henry Gawler, Walter Coulson, and James Traill.

This article attempts to compare the qualifications ascribed to law graduates who received appointments as oidores (royal judges) with their character and conduct as royal agents charged with the administration of the king's wishes, laws, edicts, and provisions. Because my conclusions are based on the conduct of royal judges serving in the appellate courts of Granada, Española, New Granada, Guatemala, and Mexico in the sixteenth century, this is not a definitive study. More than a thousand judges served in the New World audiencias (high courts) up to 1700. Moreover, judicial reviews (residencias), letters to the Crown, and related materials tend to stress sins of commission or omission rather than the good deeds of the royal magistrates. Sources also reflect differences between royal agents, conflict between royal agents and provincial officials, and the clash between the interests of the Crown, the church, and the colonists. Granted these limitations, enough documentation exists to observe the dichotomy between the administration of justice by magistrates, who were men of flesh and bone, and the idea of the wise and clement judge discharging the royal conscience by making it conform to natural and divine law.

This article presents a discussion of the legal construction of divorce ratification in religious courts, or what can be termed isbat talak, because the norm regarding the ratification of talak does not yet exist, although it has been voiced by various groups, including the Indonesian Ulema Council through the fatwa commission. There are two main points to be discussed in this article. First, regarding the MUI fatwa framework regarding the ratification of divorce. Second, regarding the construction of ratification of divorce in religious courts. This study uses a qualitative approach with data collection techniques in documentation. The data sources were obtained from the ijtima' results of the MUI Fatwa Commission throughout Indonesia in 2012, the Marriage Law, and the Compilation of Islamic Law. This study shows that the MUI recommendation for divorce outside the court to be recognized as valid by the religious court is in order to find a middle way from debates between groups that rely solely on fiqh and the camp that relies solely on the laws and regulations. The ratification of divorce can basically be done through legal construction by judges with an analogous approach, namely equating the isbat of divorce with the isbat of marriage.

At least once during his tenure, the royal governor of colonial New York received a list of questions from London. The Board of Trade, which recommended colonial policy to the king's Privy Council, sought information about the province's geography, population, trade, and legal regime. This last question often came first: “What is the constitution of the Government?” The responses, from the first British governor in 1669 to the last before the Revolution, described the imperial arrangement as a hierarchy of power flowing directly from the Crown. In 1738, for example, the lieutenant governor wrote that “The constitution is such as his Majesty by his commission to his Governour directs, whereby the Governour with the Council and assembly are empowered to pass laws not repugnant to the laws of England.” A decade later, Governor George Clinton replied more insightfully, with the help of his closest advisor, Cadwallader Colden: “The constitution of this Government is founded on His Majesty's Commission & Instructions to his Governor. But the assembly have made such Encroachments on his Majesty's Prerogative by their having the power of the purse that they in effect assume the whole executive powers into their own hands.”

Abstract This study traces how it is applied the rule of law regarding expropriation of the two estates. The study also explains how the parts of the two expropriated estates are divided to the residents of Scortaru Nou village, Brăila county. In Scortaru Nou village, Brăila county, there were two estates belonging to Grădișteanu family: the domain Sihleanu in surface of 2,250 ha and the estate Ariciu in surface of 1,600 ha. The estates were subject, as well as all large estates in the country, of the expropriation laws that preceded the agrarian laws. They were subject to the 1918 law decrees, agrarian law of 1921 and agrarian law of 1945. The estates belonged to class II boyar - Zamfir Sihleanu. These estates reach in the wealth of Grădișteanu family, old boyar family of royal descent, by the marriage between Elena Sihleanu, daughter of Zamfir Sihleanu boyar with Constantine Grădișteanu. Later, the estates of Sihleanu and Ariciu reach also in the Ghica's family wealth by the marriage between the daughter of Constantine Grădișteanu and Elena Sihleanu, Mary, with Scarlat Ghica. In 1919, when the estates are subject to expropriation, the heirs of this beautiful fortune are John C. Grădișteanu, Şerban Ghica and Mary Ştefănescu. Later, in 1945, the heirs are Elena A. Bogdan and Michael Grădișteanu.

In 1996 a provincial court was established at Eskasoni Mi'kmaq Community in Nova Scotia, Canada, in response to overwhelming evidence confirming the failures of the Canadian legal system to provide justice for Indigenous peoples, and as a specific recommendation of the Royal Commission on the Donald Marshall, Jr., Prosecution. Marshall, a Mi'kmaq wrongfully convicted of murder, served eleven years of a life sentence before proving his innocence. The importation of provincial legal culture into an Indigenous community creates tensions and contradictions surrounding the legitimacy, authenticity, and efficacy of Indigenous laws. The ontological conflicts that arise from the imposition of a justice system integrally linked with colonization, criminalization, and assimilation cannot be resolved through indigenization of court staff and administrative conveniences. The Mi'kmaq continue to assert their laws and articulate their legal consciousness against the co‐optation of dominant system, with mixed results.

This article is motivated by the issue of the Surabaya District Court's decision to legalize interfaith marriage. This issue has garnered a lot of opinions and criticism because it is considered to be not in line with the MUI fatwa that has been established. Therefore, the focus of this study is firstly on the legal basis of the MUI in establishing interfaith marriage, secondly on the considerations of the Surabaya District Court judge in deciding on interfaith marriage, and lastly on the legality of interfaith marriage in law and human rights. Using a sociological and normative approach, it can be concluded that the Surabaya District Court decision was rejected by various groups, especially the MUI, which was deemed to be no longer in line with the fatwa that had been established since long ago. Regarding this issue, the MUI will hold a meeting with the legal commission to discuss this issue. Nevertheless, the Surabaya District Court remains on the decision they issued because they have a basis for the decision. This study obtained data sources from secondary data by processing data from primary legal materials and secondary legal materials in the form of laws, civil procedure law books, and opinions of legal experts and theses. The results of this study are that interfaith marriage is recognized by state law if it is recorded in civil registration, as stipulated in Article 37 of the Population Administration Law, but it is not valid according to religion.

AbstractThis study investigates child factory labour in Victoria, the most populous and industrialized colony in Australia in the second half of the nineteenth century. Three sources of primary data are analysed: Royal Commission reports, texts of bills and statutes, and parliamentary and public debates. The findings inform current academic debates by enhancing understanding of the role played by child workers during industrialization. They show that children were low-cost substitutes for adult males and that child labour was central to ongoing industrialization. A wide range of industries and jobs is identified in which children were employed in harsh conditions, in some instances in greater proportions than adults. Following the reports of the Royal Commission, the parliament of Victoria recognized a child labour problem serious enough to warrant regulation. While noting that circumstances were not as severe as in Britain, it passed legislation in 1885 with provisions that offered more protection to children than those in the British factory act of 1878. The legislation also offered more protection than factory laws in other industrializing colonies and countries. The findings throw light on the character of colonial liberal reformers in a wealthy colony who sought to create a better life for white settlers by adopting policies of state intervention.

As the Royal Commission on the Poor Laws noted in 1909, the Poor Law Amendment Act of 1834 and the Poor Law (Scotland) Act of 1845 sprang from rather different motives. Whereas the first Act aimed to restrict the provision of poor relief, the second was designed to enhance it. However, despite these aims, it is generally accepted that Scotland's Poor Law continued to relieve a smaller proportion of its population and to spend less money on them. This paper revisits the evidence on which these claims are based. Although the gap between the two Poor Laws was less than previously supposed, it was nevertheless substantial. The paper also explores the links between the size of Scottish parishes and welfare spending, and demonstrates that the main reasons for the persistence of the spending gap were related to different levels of investment in poorhouses and workhouses, and support for the elderly.

This paper argues that for religion, social inclusion is not certain once gained, but needs to be constantly renegotiated in response to continued challenges, even for mainstream religious organisations such as the Catholic Church. The paper will analyse the Catholic Church’s involvement in the Australian public sphere, and after a brief overview of the history of Catholicism’s struggle for equal status in Australia, will consider its response to recent challenges to maintain its position of inclusion and relevance in Australian society. This will include an examination of its handling of sexual abuse allegations brought forward by the Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse, and its attempts to promote its vision of ethics and morals in the face of calls for marriage equality and other social issues in a society of greater religious diversity.

When the Wood Royal Commission into the New South Wales Police Service released its final Report on the Paedophile Inquiry in August 1997, its recommendation to remove the distinction between heterosexual and female homosexual sex and male homosexual sex by lowering the age currently set for the latter category surprised many citizens. There was concern, firstly, about the fact that the lack of satisfactory protective mechanisms in the prevailing laws would escape investigation and, secondly, that acts previously understood to be paedophilia and pederasty would be de-criminalised, thereby increasing the vulnerability of young Australians to sexual predators.The Crimes Amendment (Sexual Offences) Bill, introduced into the New South Wales Parliament in October 1997, and reintroduced in 1999, suggests a firm determination to implement the Royal Commission recommendation on consent, notwithstanding the fact that such change would be implemented in the absence of community debate and without addressing the implications of de-criminalisation. Although the Bill was rejected in the Upper House on both occasions, it is believed that further attempts will be made in the near future and, again, it will be in the absence of broad community debate. It is also widely believed that, should a change of this nature be implemented in New South Wales, it will have implications for children in other states across Australia.This paper explores the implications of equalising at a lower rather than higher minimum age of consent.

This article discusses the perceptions of the Javanese Islamic community regarding the implementation of Article 7 Paragraph 1 of Law Number 16 of 2019 concerning changes in the age of marriage. This research originated from a judicial review filed by the Indonesian Child Protection Commission (KPAI), the Constitutional Court. The decision decided that Article 7 paragraph (1) is as long as the phrase "16 years". The Marriage Law is considered to be contrary to the 1945 Constitution (UUD) of the Republic of Indonesia (NKRI) and does not have binding legal force. Finally, the Constitutional Court finally granted a judicial review of Article 7 paragraph 1, this was because Article 7 Paragraph 1 was discriminatory and not in accordance with Article 27 Paragraph (1) of the 1945 Republic of Indonesia Constitution concerning equal rights before the law and the Child Protection Law which stated that boys -Men and girls have the same rights. The aim of this research is to determine the implementation of Article 7 Paragraph 1 of the 1974 Marriage Law in the Indigenous Anak Putu (ATAP) community in Cilacap Regency. The results of this research indicate that the implementation of Article 7 Paragraph 1 of Law Number 16 of 2019 concerning Marriage in the Kejawen Islamic Community in Cilacap Regency has been carried out as it should. Evidenced by the existence of a long process before the occurrence of the marriage contract. Apart from the procession, there are traditional rules that must not be abandoned, the Anak Putu Traditional Community also upholds the laws and norms that apply in Indonesia. So that in carrying out customary rules it is not intended to violate or get rid of state regulations. However, this is where the customary rules of the Anak Putu Tradition are carried out in tandem with state law. Keywords: Community Perception, Kejawen Islam, Changes in Age of Marriage

This essay examines Thomas Mann's response to the “Jewish question” by focusing on a phase when he struggled to come to terms in his art with the repression of his homosexual desires and with his marriage to the daughter of assimilated Jews. Mann's attitude toward the Jews is primarily hostile in the controversial novella Wälsungenblut (The Blood of the Walsungs), in which he projects anti-Semitic stereotypes onto distorted images of his wife and new in-laws. In the novel Königliche Hoheit (Royal Highness), Mann produces a more sympathetic portrait of his wife by giving her an ethnic background closely resembling his mother's. Mann's response to the Jewish question is linked to his tendency to think in racial categories; his ambivalence toward the Jews stems from his ambivalence toward himself as an artist with repressed homosexual desires and an admixture of foreign “blood.”

The second half of the nineteenth century was a period of rapid change in the natural sciences in Britain, reflecting changes in social conditions and improvements in education. A growing number of naturalists were becoming socially conscious and aware of the need for a proper study of the sea and its products, following the success of the ‘Challenger’ Expedition of 1872–6. In 1866 the Royal Commission on the Sea Fisheries, which included among its officers Professor T. H. Huxley, one of the new breed of professional scientists, had reported that fears of over-exploitation of the sea-fisheries were unfounded, and had recommended doing away with existing laws regulating fishing grounds and closed seasons. Nevertheless, the rising trade in fresh fish carried to towns by rail or by fast boats (fleeting), and the consequent increase in size and number of registered fishing vessels, was causing widespread concern, and there were reports from all round the coasts about the scarcity of particular fish, especially soles. This concern was expressed at the International Fisheries Exhibition in London in 1883, a conference called to discuss the commercial and scientific aspects of the fishing industry, attended by many active and first-rank scientists. However, in his opening address Professor Huxley discounted reports of scarcity of fish, and repeated the views of the Royal Commission of 1866: that, with existing methods of fishing, it was inconceivable that the great sea fisheries, such as those for cod, herring and mackerel, could ever be exhausted.

This article discusses the Royal Commission of Inquiry's recommendation to reform New Zealand's hate crime legislation following the Christchurch terror attack. New Zealand currently uses a sentencing enhancement provision that has faced much criticism for being unable to reflect the serious nature of hate-motivated offending. It is also poorly enforced. The Commission recommended replicating the United Kingdom's approach by creating separate hate crime offences. This article argues that this is not the most productive way to combat hateful conduct and achieve the Commission's broader goal of social cohesion. Evidence from the United Kingdom suggests that many of the intended benefits of separate offences do not eventuate in practice. This article considers that criminalisation is not the best way to address hateful conduct generally. Hate crime laws risk being counter-productive and are unlikely to change societal attitudes. The conclusion is that it would be more beneficial to focus on non-criminal anti-hate responses, such as education. These alternative anti-hate methods will be more likely to address the root causes of hostility, prevent the development of hateful attitudes and thus reduce the frequency of hate-motivated offending in New Zealand.

The remedy of restitution of conjugal rights (RCR) has its roots in canon law. It was incorporated into Muslim, Hindu and Parsi personal laws through the judgements of the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council during the British colonial period. It has been abolished in the United Kingdom in 1970 when a Law Commission report found it ineffective in saving marriages. In South Asia, however, this remedy is still available despite constitutional challenges to it before superior courts. The Federal Shariat Court refused to declare this remedy invalid in its judgements reported in 2016. This is despite the fact that far from saving marriages, this remedy is routinely abused by husbands as a countermeasure in response to suits of maintenance, custody of children, recovery of dower and dowry, and dissolution of marriage. Devoid of any Islamic basis, the RCR remedy violates the right to liberty, privacy, and equality as guaranteed under the Constitution of the Islamic Republic of Pakistan 1973 and should be declared illegal and unconstitutional.

The Commissioner of Official Languages presents the evolution of linguistic rights from the time of Confederation up to the period of the Quiet Revolution in Québec. This survey dwells upon guarantees granted to linguistic minorities in Canada. At the Federal level of government, the author describes the consequences of the Royal Commission of Enquiry on Bilingualism and Biculturalism : The Official Languages Act and the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms. At the provincial level of government, he draws up an overall account of the factual integration of these laws. His observations lead him to conclude that Canada will never be a homogeneous country with regard to linguistic rights and that minority aid systems are deficient. As a solution, the author underscores the timeliness of Federal-provincial arrangements with a view to creating specific development projects for official language minorities in accordance with local needs, but founded upon a common basis.

The fatwa of the Indonesian Ulema Council of South Sulawesi Province regarding panaik money is debated and considered cynical by some people who feel disturbed. The cultural shift in panaik money that occurred initially was intended to pay tribute to the bride's family, become a means of prestige, and show off in the community. This study aimed to reveal the potential for developing local wisdom fatwas at the national level by looking at the phenomenon of panaik money cases in the Bugis-Makassar community. This study was a qualitative method with a sociological approach to Islamic law. The Fatwa Commission of the South Sulawesi Provincial Ulama Council located in Makassar issued Fatwa Number 2 of 2022 concerning Panaik Money. The results of the study showed that the fatwa regarding panaik money had a crucial goal in addressing social, economic, and cultural problems related to the practice of panaik money in marriage, especially in the context of Bugis-Makassar community in South Sulawesi. The fatwa on panaik money described perspectives and suggestions from regional-level social institutions regarding the practice of panaik money in marriage based on Sharia principles. Making a regional fatwa a national fatwa required several steps. This usually depended on the laws and regulations in force in that country. This aimed to ensure that the fatwa complied with state law and had sufficient meaning to be implemented nationally. However, the fatwa on panaik money provided a better understanding of panaik money.

Lorenzo Barbosa had a big problem with his daughter Josefa. In June 1821, in Buenos Aires, young Josefa Barbosa was in love with Pascual Cruz. What bothered Lorenzo was that Pascual was a mulatto, while the Barbosa family was white. When the couple asked his permission to marry, Lorenzo vehemently opposed the union and withheld his consent. He was acting within his rights, since minor children (men and women younger than 25 and 23 respectively) were required by law to obtain parental permission to marry. To bolster his case, Lorenzo invoked the power of a colonial law issued in 1778, known as the Royal Pragmatic on marriage, which gave parents the right to block their children's marriages to “unequal partners.” Even though Buenos Aires had broken away from Spain in 1810, most colonial laws regarding family life, including the pragmatic, continued in force into the national period. But just as in colonial times, children retained the right to challenge parental opposition in court. If they chose to do so, the resulting case was known as a disenso.

AbstractTo date, little is known about manifestations of child sexual abuse (CSA) within ultra-orthodox Jewish communities both in Australia and abroad. There is a paucity of empirical studies on the prevalence of CSA within Jewish communities, and little information on the responses of Jewish community organisations, or the experiences of Jewish CSA survivors and their families. This paper draws on a case study of two ultra-orthodox Jewish organisations from the recent Australian Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse to examine the religious and cultural factors that may inform Jewish communal responses to CSA. Attention is drawn to factors that render ultra-orthodox communities vulnerable to large-scale CSA, religious laws and beliefs that may influence the reporting of abuse to secular authorities, and the communal structures that may lead to victims rather than offenders being subjected to personal attacks and exclusion from the community. Commonalities are identified between ultra-orthodox Jews and other faith-based communities, and reforms suggested to improve child safety across religious groups.

The study discusses the legal problem of immunities that affected the criminal responsibility of individuals in the Omani judiciary. Undoubtedly, this is due to a legislative shortcoming on the one hand and a misunderstanding on the other hand of the provisions of immunity, which contributed to its exploitation, abuse and invocation as a vehicle for the commission of personal crimes, as well as On the problems arising originally from deciding the immunity of certain categories of state employees, which led to their conflicting interests with the interests of the victim, and their impunity. Therefore, the researcher will explain the aspects of the Omani legislator’s treatment of immunity and the texts it decided starting from the basic system of the state issued by decree Royal Decree No. (101/96) and repealed with the issuance of the statute in force under Royal Decree No. (6/2021), then other laws, regulations and decisions implementing them, dealing with the concept of immunity, its types, legal nature and basis, and the problems arising from it. By extrapolating the provisions of immunity in Omani legislation and its applications, it became clear to the researcher that there are some shortcomings in its organization, which contributed to its misunderstanding and exploitation and sharpened the idea of ​​immunity for what it was decided for, as well as the existence of practical problems of immunity that affected criminal responsibility, on a shift that calls for reconsideration and the categories that decided Despite the legislator’s intervention by Royal Decree No. (3/2014) regarding defining the concept of immunity and the scope of its application, the need is still urgent to find a more accurate regulation and more precise provisions clarifying the issue of immunity, in addition to the necessity of restricting its use without the current uses.

From the first months of the reign of Elizabeth Petrovna the Russian royal court ordered diplomats in Dresden and Warsaw to make statements in defense of the rights of Orthodox Christians in the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. Their rights were violated by the forcible seizure of churches and the conversion of Orthodox Christians to Uniatism, as well as the oppression of Orthodox Christians by Catholic magnates, noblemen and priests. By the 1740s, of the four Orthodox dioceses in the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, which the Polish authorities pledged to protect in 1686, only one remained, the Belarusian diocese. The royal court of Augustus III issued disposals on the basis of Russian complaints, but due to the republican structure of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, the king did not have the right to order the Polish noblemen. The Polish Sejm, the main authority of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, could make decisions binding on all subjects, but its work in the 18th century was paralyzed by the internal conflicts of the magnates. An attempt to form a special commission to consider the complaints of Orthodox Christians according to the Polish laws was not successful. The Russian government could only convince every offender of the Orthodox Christians of the undesirability of such actions, but these measures also did not bring results. The only success of the Russian diplomacy was preventing the transition of the Orthodox Belarusian diocese to the Uniate Church since Dresden and Warsaw needed Russian protection from possible Prussian aggression in 1742 and 1756. In the same time, the Orthodox population of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth was increasingly dissatisfied with both their own disenfranchised position and the futility of diplomatic methods of their protection on the part of the Russian royal court.

ABSTRACTIn 1536 Wales (Cymru) and England were formally united by an Act of Union of the English Parliament. At the English Reformation, the established Church of England possessed four dioceses in Wales, part of the Canterbury Province. In 1920 Parliament disestablished the Church of England in Wales. The Welsh Church Act 1914 terminated the royal supremacy and appointment of bishops, the coercive jurisdiction of the church courts, and pre-1920 ecclesiastical law, applicable to the Church of England, ceased to exist as part of public law in Wales. The statute freed the Church in Wales (Yr Eglwys yng Nghymru) to establish its own domestic system of government and law, the latter located in its Constitution, pre-1920 ecclesiastical law (which still applies to the church unless altered by it), elements of the 1603 Canons Ecclesiastical and even pre-Reformation Roman canon law. The Church in Wales is also subject to State law, including that of the National Assembly for Wales. Indeed, civil laws on marriage and burial apply to the church, surviving as vestiges of establishment. Under civil law, the domestic law of the church, a voluntary association, binds its members as a matter of contract enforceable, in prescribed circumstances, in State courts.

The desert in the South of Jordan is a popular location for multimillion-dollar productions of science fiction films. The combination of vast arid lands and lucrative tax rebates offered by the Royal Film Commission make the Jordanian desert a desirable backdrop for expeditions to hostile extraterrestrial planets. Dune (2021), Mission to Mars (2000), The Martian (2015), Last Days on Mars (2013), Transformers (2007), and The Red Planet (2010) are a few of the feature film titles produced by American companies and filmed in Jordan’s Wadi Rum. This article argues that the cinematic portrayal of worlds ravaged by resource scarcity and climate peril too often sustains the perception of the desert as an unruly, lawless, and dead land. While the environmental humanities often aim to shift the scale of our historic lens to bear witness to the entire earth, this article reflects on the stakes of further abstracting the specificity of geography and extending the colonial imaginaries of wasteland. Reflecting on the process of capturing images of landscapes in the Middle East, the article considers desert locations as unique “extractive zones” wherein the topsoil is captured and circulated as high-definition images. Thinking of filmmaking as extractive means defining images as materials, and considering the laws, labor, and cultural imaginations merged in this process.

Matrimony is a revered union that establishes a holy connection between two individuals and their respective families. However, when matrimony is entered into without the explicit consent of the parties involved or when the individuals participating in the marriage are not satisfied with the arrangement, it can become unpleasant or unfavourable. Throughout history, our civilization has exhibited a proclivity towards a patriarchal system, dating back to the era of hunting and gathering. It is inherent for men to exhibit dominant emotions as a result of their natural disposition. When examining the global context, it becomes evident that establishing and enforcing law and order play a significant role in defining and regulating societal norms and behaviours. The Indian Penal Code of 1860 encompasses a set of laws and corresponding penalties that have been established. However, a common misconception among individuals is the lack of understanding regarding the historical origins of these regulations, which the British established during a bygone era. Marital rape is not criminalized under Indian law, specifically the Indian Penal Code of 1860, which does not acknowledge the act of a husband raping his wife as a punishable offence. The rationales for this phenomenon are diverse and can be identified in numerous publications of the Law Commission, deliberations within the Parliament, and adjudicatory rulings. There are various justifications for this, including the preservation of the sacred nature of marriage and the availability of alternative legal remedies. This paper examines the fallacies underlying the arguments favouring decriminalizing marital rape. The author presents a scholarly examination of Article 14 of the Constitution of India, asserting that the inclusion of a marital rape exception clause within the Indian Penal Code 1860 is fundamentally inconsistent with constitutional principles. Additionally, the author highlights the dearth of available alternative avenues for a woman to seek legal recourse in cases of marital rape. The author asserts that criminalizing marital rape is imperative and presents a comprehensive framework for achieving this objective.

The Constitution of the Republic of South Africa, 1996, is regarded as one of the most progressive constitutions in the world. As the supreme law in South Africa, it applies to all law and conduct. All South African laws must be consistent with the Constitution. Where there is an alleged violation of constitutional provisions, that law or conduct must be evaluated to establish whether or not it is consistent with the values of an open and democratic society based on fundamental human rights such as human dignity and the right to equality.The Insolvency Act and section 27 in particular which is the focus of this paper must be consistent with the Constitution. Section 27(1) provides:"No immediate benefit under a duly registered antenuptial contract given in good faith by a man to his wife or any child to be born of the marriage shall be set aside as a disposition without value, unless that man's estate was sequestrated within two years of the registration of that antenuptial contract."This section protects benefits arising from an antenuptial contract and given by a man to his wife or to a child born of their marriage, from being set aside as dispositions without value during sequestration proceedings. The same protection is not afforded however, to benefits given by the wife under an antenuptial contract. This also excludes benefits given by those in a same sex marriage, and limits the benefits available to children born of that form of marriage.As the right to equality in section 9 of the Constitution seeks to provide equal benefits before the law to persons in the same or similar positions by prohibiting unfair discrimination, the limitations in section 27 render it vulnerable to constitutional review.As the Insolvency Act has not been amended as a whole to accommodate the equality provisions in the Constitution, in its current form, section 27 seems to violate section 9(3) of the Constitution on the grounds of sexual orientation, marital status and birth.However, certain proposals have been made in the report by the South African Law Reform Commission on the Review of the Law of Insolvency to develop section 27 to comply with the Constitution. Further developments have been proposed by the Department of Justice and Constitutional Developments in its presentations to the Labour Market Chamber in 2003 and 2006.This paper examines section 27 of the Insolvency Act as it currently reads, within the context of the right to equality in section 9 of the Constitution. Current developments in respect of section 27 will be considered to illustrate progress made in reforming the section and whether the reform measures proposed will protect all those affected by the discrimination arising from section 27.The discussion opens with a consideration of the current dispensation and the question whether section 27 violates section 9(3) of the Constitution. Current developments will then be discussed in the light of the current proposals.

AbstrakStatus sosial dalam tinjauan hukum islam dan positif ini menjadi suatu permasalahan utama. Pengaruh perkawinan ditinjau dari hukum islam dan strata sosial pada Masyarakat Sulawesi Selatan Kecamatan Soppeng Riaja Kabupaten Barru dan dampak positif dan negatif terhadap adanya strata sosial yang berbeda pada Masyarakat Sulawesi Selatan Kecamatan Soppeng Riaja Kabupaten Barru menjadi topik utama. Peneliti kemudian menggunakan metode deskriptif kualitatif, menginterpretasikan dan mendeskripsikan info, sikap dan pandangan yang terjadi dalam suatu masyarakat, kontradiksi antara dua kejadian, hubungan antara individu dan variabel yang muncul dari perbedaan fakta yang ada dengan fakta yang ada serta pengaruhnya terhadap kondisi. Pendekatan induktif, dengan teknik pengumpulan information yaitu studi lapangan, wawancara, selain itu penulis juga melakukan studi literatur dengan menelaah buku, literatur dan peraturan perundang-undangan. Menganalisis dokumen hukum yaitu penulis menggali, menganalisis dan menemukan segala peraturan perundang-undangan yang mengatur semua aspek asas hukum Islam dan hukum perkawinan. Status Sosial Masyarakat Kecamatan Soppeng Riaja Kabupaten Barru dalam ditinjau dari hukum islam dan hukum positif bahwa status sosial perempuan sangat menentukan tinggi dan rendahnya uang panai’, meliputi Keturunan Bangsawan, Tingkat Pendidikan, Pekerjaan Status Ekonomi perempuan dan Kondisi Fisik. Adapun dampak hukum jika pihak laki-laki tidak mampu menyanggupi jumlah uang panai’ yang telah ditargetkan, maka secara otomatis perkawinan akan batal dan pada umumnya implikasi yang muncul adalah pihak laki-laki dan perempuan mendapat cibiran atau hinaan di kalangan masyarakat setempat, dan biasanya hubungan antar kedua keluarga bisa renggang. Selain itu banyak laki-laki yang enggan menikah karena banyaknya tuntutan yang harus disiapkan oleh pihak laki- laki demi sebuah perkawinan. Tidak sedikit perempuan yang tidak kawin dan menjadi perawan tua.Kata kunci: Hukum Islam, Hukum Positif, Strata Sosial.AbstractSocial status in this positive and Islamic legal journal is a major issue. The effect of marriage in terms of Islamic law and social strata in the community of South Sulawesi, the district of Soppeng Riaja, the regency of Barru and the positive and negative impacts on the existence of different social strata in the community of South Sulawesi, Soppeng Riaja District, Barru Regency is the main subject. The researchers then use descriptive qualitative methods, interpret and describe the information, attitudes and viewpoints that occur in a society, the contradictions between two events, the relationships between individuals and the variables that result from differences between facts. existing and existing facts and their effects on conditions. Inductive approach, with information gathering techniques, namely field studies, interviews, in addition to the fact that the author also conducts literature studies by examining books, literature and statutory regulations. By analyzing legal documents, the author searches, analyzes and finds all the laws and regulations that govern all aspects of Islamic law and marriage law. Social status of the Soppeng Riaja sub-district, Barru Regency in terms of Islamic law and positive law according to which the social status of women determines the top and bottom of Panai money ”. Social status includes royal ancestry, educational level, professional economic status of women, and physical condition. doi 'panai' was considered siri 'or the self-esteem of a woman and her family. As for the legal impact if the male party is not able to pay the targeted amount of Panai money, the marriage will automatically be annulled and, in general, this implies that both men and women receive contempt or insults. in the local community, and generally relations between the two families can be tenuous. In addition, many men are reluctant to get married due to the many demands that men have to prepare for a marriage. Not a few women who don't get married and become single.Keywords: Islamic Law, Positive Law, Social Strata.

This paper aims at explaining the criminal provisions in government regulation number 9 of 1975, according to Law Number 12 of 2011. The research method used in conducting this article is a qualitative research method with a normative juridical research type using the statute approach. Sources of data are divided into two forms, namely primary data sources obtained directly from main sources such as the head of the Regional Office of the Ministry of Religions of the Republic of Indonesia, Commission III of the House of Representatives of the Republic of Indonesia, the Head of the High Court of Religion of North Sumatra, and experts in the field of Islamic law. In addition, laws and regulations and the book of ushul fiqh are used as secondary materials. Data analysis was carried out in the stages of data reduction, data presentation, and conclusion. The results show that the criteria for marriage that can be punished or fined are divided into two, namely First, is the presence of intention. Second, the action is detrimental to another person, in other words, the injured person reports or complains about the detrimental action to the police so that it can be processed because the provision is a complaint offense. Tulisan ini bertujuan untuk menjelaskan ketentuan pidana dalam peraturan pemerintah nomor 9 tahun 1975 menurut Undang-Undang Nomor 12 Tahun 2011. Adapun metode penelitian yang digunakan dalam penulisan artikel ini adalah metode penelitian kualitatif dengan Jenis Penelitian yuridis normative menggunakan pendekatan statute approach. Sumber data terbagi pada dua bentuk yaitu sumber data primer yang diperoleh langsung dari sumber utama seperti kepala kanwil Kementerian Agama RI, Komisi III DPR RI, Ketua Pengadilan Tinggi Agama Sumatera Utara, dan pakar dibidang hukum Islam. Selain itu, Peraturan perundang-undangan dan kitab ushul fiqih dijadikan sebagai bahan sekunder. Analisis data dilakukan dengan tahapan reduksi data, penyajian data, dan kesimpulan. Hasil penelitian menunjukkan bahwa kriteria pernikahan yang dapat dipidana atau didenda terbagi kepada dua, yaitu ; Pertama, adalah adanya niat atau unsur kesengajaan. Kedua, tindakan tersebut merugikan orang lain, dengan kata lain, bahwa orang yang dirugikan tersebut melaporkan atau mengadukan perbuatan yang merugikannya kepada pihak kepolisian, sehingga dapat diproses, karena ketentuan tersebut merupakan delik aduan.

There are ongoing efforts worldwide to minimize the occurrence of medical errors. However, the issue of honest disclosure of a medical error to the patient or their family has been relatively unattended. We have previously reported the Canadian provincial initiatives encouraging open disclosure of a critical event and have suggested its integration into a ‘no-fault’ model. In the absence of uniform policies directing appropriate disclosure of a medical error, substantial scope exists for breaching the patient’s trust if errors during the process of care are not disclosed. We reviewed the various medical error disclosure initiatives across the globe to analyze the progress made in this key area. In 2001, the United States (US) Joint Commission on Accreditation of Healthcare Organizations (JCAHO) mandated an open disclosure of any critical event during care to the patient or their families. This was deemed as an essential accreditation standard for the institution. In Australia, the Australian Council for Safety and Quality in Health Care integrates the disclosure process with a risk management analysis towards investigating the critical event. In New Zealand, the patients suffering a medical error are rehabilitated and compensated through a no-fault, state-funded compensation scheme. The National Health Services (NHS) of the United Kingdom directs the doctors and managers to inform a patient of an act of negligence or omission that causes harm. The NHS scheme offers a remedial package to the patient including an apology and financial compensation in return for the patients waiving their right to litigate. The Canadian provincial initiatives, though similar in content, remain isolated because of their non-mandatory nature and absence of federal or provincial laws on disclosure. In Conclusion, we suggest that a uniform national policy centered on addressing errors in a non-punitive manner and respecting the patient’s right to an honest disclosure be implemented. Kalra J, Massey KL, Mulla A. Disclosure of medical error: policies and practice. Journal of the Royal Society of Medicine 2005; 98(7): 307-09. Hebert PC, Levin AV, Robertson G. Bioethics for clinicians: 23. Disclosure of medical error. CMAJ 2001; 164(4):509-13. Mazor KM, Simon SR, Gurwitz JH. Communicating with patients about medical errors: a review of the literature. Arch Intern Med. 2004; 164(15):1690-7.

The relevance of the topic of the study is due to the fact that the relationship between the Church and the state in the Republic of Poland have ancient historical traditions, since, since the XVI century, in this country, there was a significant number of constitutional acts in this country in which considerable attention was paid to religious issues. In the articles of Henry Valua, these issues were reflected in paragraph 2, according to which the ruler had to solve any disputes of different confessions of peacefully. This approach, according to the authors of the document, allowed to avoid various kinds of shocks, confrontations that can create in the country to the Confederation and lead to a civil war. The presence of such an item guaranteed a religious peace that the king promised to preserve forever and not to allow any shocks for reasons or disagreement in religious issues. In the Constitution of 1791, articles devoted to religions were placed in the first place that was proof of the commitment of the Polish nation to the Catholic religion and the desire to adhere to the faith of parents. In Chapter 7, «King and Executive Authority» indicated that each of the rulers, having descended to the throne, is oath to God and the nation to preserve the Constitution. At the same time, in the text of the document it was noted that the Royal Council had to consist of a primate of Poland as the heads of the Polish clergy, which was simultaneously the head of the educational commission. The Constitution of 1807 included a section in which religious issues were regulated: firstly, this is the recognition of the Catholic Roman religion by the state; Secondly, the regulation of all religious liturgies that are free and public. In the Duchy of Warsaw, all confessional affairs, including administrative supervision, belonged to the Minister of Internal Affairs, which in accordance with Art. 11 of the Constitution of 1807, in fact, was Minister for Religious Issues. The Constitution of the Kingdom of Poland in 1815 contained the provision that the Roman Catholic religion, which professes the majority of the population will be the subject of special attention from the Russian authorities. It was noted that the rights to freedom of religion of other denominations can not be violated, as well as representatives of all religions enjoy equal civil and political rights. The organic statute of 1832 guaranteed freedom of religion for any religious denomination and the departure of worship is open and without interference. It was also noted that the clergy of all religions are under the patronage of the Government and must comply with established laws. Despite the fact that the number of actual material devoted to religious issues in relation to the total volume of all considered constitutional acts is insignificant, since Catholicism in this country at all times acted as one of the system-forming factors of the origin and development of Polish statehood. Key words: Kingdom of Poland, Grand Duchy of Warsaw, constitution, religious question, Articles by Heinrich Valois, number of signs, Organic Statute.

Abstract This paper investigates the debates over, and the promulgation of, the new Moroccan laws on unregistered customary marriages and on establishing the paternity of offspring resulting from such marriages, and it analyzes how those laws have been implemented by the judiciary. The paper closely examines the relevant deliberations of the Moroccan Royal Advisory Commission, and analyzes 24 court cases involving the laws. I argue that, while monogamous registered marriage is depicted in the national legal system as the basis for establishing a modern Moroccan society, legislators regard fātiḥa marriage as a social reality that has its roots in customs and religious practices. The paper shows that judges abide by the conditions specified in law but differ in their interpretation of “force majeure” when it comes to a couple’s having not registered their marriage. The study also reveals how the laws create legal loopholes in terms of underage marriage and polygyny, which are strictly restricted in the code.

This article discusses the complementary roles of the South African state and community institutions in transforming customary marriage practices to reflect changing socio-economic circumstances and to meet constitutional values contained in the Bill of Rights. It also reflects on the interaction between customary law, legislation dealing specifically with customary law, and the Constitution. Customary laws of marriage are living laws and may be interpreted, applied and, when necessary, amended or developed by the legislature and courts or by the impacted communities. Before the enactment of the 1996 Constitution, customary marriage practices were only recognised by the courts if they were not repugnant to public policy or natural justice and common law principles. This repugnancy test did not allow South African courts to develop African customary laws. Since 1996, the test for recognition of customary marriage laws has been the Constitution. Legislative reforms of customary marriage practices have occurred through the enactment of the Recognition of Customary Marriages Act 120 of 1998, the Reform of Customary Law of Succession and Regulation of Related Matters Act 11 of 2009 and more are anticipated in ongoing efforts of the South African Law Reform Commission. Section 211(2) of the Constitution also allows traditional leaders to reform their own customs and to bring them into line with the norms and values of the Constitution. In this article, I assess the complementary efforts of the legislature, courts, and traditional leaders in amending the communities’ customary marriage practices to reflect modernity and to meet constitutional values.

Despite the enactment of a specific law on domestic violence, the elimination of violence in the household is still an elusive target in Indonesia. A large number of Muslims’ divorces in the Religious Courts, for example, have involved domestic violence according to the National Commission on Anti Violence against Women. This article aims to discuss the opportunity and challenges of the elimination of domestic violence in the Indonesian Muslim Society. Employing both normative and socio-legal analysis, it finds that the state is unable to resolve the existing conflict between the requirements of the Law – which oblige the state to amend conflicting legislation – and the provisions of both civil and Islamic marriage laws which open the possibility of violence against women in the household. These include gender-role stereotypes, the fuzziness of the obedience concept (nushuz) and linking maintenance to a wife’s obedience, and the ambiguity of marriage validity. This necessitates the reformation of Indonesian marriage laws.

The recent Royal Commission into Robodebt drew Australians’ attention to the risks of data technologies in the public sector. Novel data technologies, including artificial intelligence, offer potential public benefits but create risks to individuals and society. I argue that existing Australian data protection laws offer inadequate protection against the dangers posed by the use of such technologies in the public sector. Pending more tailored legislative change, I consider the extent to which specific human rights laws such as those in Queensland, Victoria and the Australian Capital Territory, together with effective application of risk assessment methodologies within a human rights culture, could be layered over data protection laws to provide ongoing technologically-neutral protection against such harms.

Like a recent epidemic, child marriages are prevalent not only in Indonesia but also in Pakistan. Even though both countries have ratified CEDAW and have laws and regulations governing the age of marriage. However, the BPS data (2020-2022) shows that the number of underage marriages are still high in several regions, with up to 34,000 applicants for marriage dispensation in 2022 in Indonesia. Likewise, the phenomenon also occurs in Pakistan, as its Human Rights Commission in Lahore in 2022 stated that at least 99 cases of child marriage were reported to them. Why is it difficult for the two countries to suppress the number of child marriages? Is it because the age limit for marriage is not Islamic? And what are the countermeasures from a gender perspective? Using the comparative method of laws in Indonesia and Pakistan from secondary sources, it can be concluded that these two countries are predominantly Muslim. Although the legal systems used in both countries are plural, where the law of marriage is still strong in Islamic law, and regarding the application of the marriage age, both the countries have attempted to have an age limit. Even though in the Islamic conception there is no age limit for marriage and only aqil and baliq are required, which according to most scholars stipulate that the age of aqil baliq is not the same as one another. This shows that the age limit for marriage is very Islamic because it is for the benefit of the child. Apart from that social culture poverty and promiscuity also contributed to the increase in the number of underage marriages. Therefore, it is necessary to fulfill the legal awareness of all parties, especially law enforcement in overcoming the negative impact on children’s rights (especially girls). Keywords: underage marriage, Islamic concept, children’s rights, gender perspective, comparative law

Marriages between South Korean men and women from less affluent Asian countries have been popular since the 1990s, and commercial international marriage brokers have played an important role in the trend. This article argues that the laws and regulations governing marriage brokers, such as Marriage Brokers Business Management Act (MBBMA) and consumer protection mechanisms, have reinforced the rights of citizen-husbands and legitimized claims from the men’s movement. As a result, the state’s regulation of commercial matchmaking endorses a form of commodified intimacy and protects the rights of male client-cum-“head of the family,” despite the consequences of commodifying the personhood of migrant women and legitimizing the violence of denying their personal autonomy. Data include public documents and policies from the Ministry of Gender Equality and Family, Korea Institute for Healthy Family, Korea Consumer Agency, Fair Trade Commission, and MBBMA. Analysis of these public texts reveals the legal and policy language that sanitizes and disguises unequal gender roles and discrimination against foreigners.

Medical fitness to drive: summary and recommendations of the symposium by the Royal Academy of Medicine of Belgium on April 29, 2023 Mobility is considered a fundamental right, with most people aspiring to exercise this right by driving themselves. To do so safely, the European Commission has established standards for drivers, which the Belgian legislator has translated into national laws and regulations. This article introduces 3 crucial concepts: knowledge, skill and medical fitness, which determine whether someone can safely participate in traffic. Problems can arise due to insufficient knowledge of traffic rules, inadequate control of the vehicle or insufficient health. A driver’s condition is often the result of interactions between these factors. Health is a significant condition for license holders, assessed through medical criteria. In Belgium, physicians can make decisions regarding the fitness to drive and they are required to inform the patient if this person no longer meets the medical criteria. This decision can also be delegated to CARA, a specialized entity that evaluates the fitness to drive in a multidisciplinary manner. Making fitness to drive decisions and the associated discussions between the physician and the patient are often sensitive due to the complexity of the topic and the impact on the physician-patient relationship. Integrating the evaluation of the fitness to drive into regular medical practice and providing concrete and validated guidelines can improve the perception of this process. The text then discusses topics related to fitness to drive, including aging (both pathological and non-pathological), Alzheimer’s disease and the use of psychotropic substances such as alcohol and medication.

In Australia the “intimacy” of citizenship (Berlant 2), is often used to reinforce subscription to heteronormative romantic and familial structures. Because this framing promotes discourses of moral failure, recent political attention to sexuality and same-sex couples can be filtered through insights into coalitional affiliations. This paper uses contemporary shifts in Australian politics and culture to think through the concept of coalition, and in particular to analyse connections between sexuality and governmentality (or more specifically normative bias and same-sex relationships) in what I’m calling post-coalitional Australia. Against the unpredictability of changing parties and governments, allegiances and alliances, this paper suggests the continuing adherence to a heteronormatively arranged public sphere. After the current Australian Prime Minister Julia Gillard deposed the previous leader, Kevin Rudd, she clung to power with the help of independents and the Greens, and clichés of a “rainbow coalition” and a “new paradigm” were invoked to describe the confused electorate and governmental configuration. Yet in 2007, a less confused Australia decisively threw out the Howard–led Liberal and National Party coalition government after eleven years, in favour of Rudd’s own rainbow coalition: a seemingly invigorated party focussed on gender equity, Indigenous Australians, multi-cultural visibility, workplace relations, Austral-Asian relations, humane refugee processing, the environment, and the rights and obligations of same-sex couples. A post-coalitional Australia invokes something akin to “aftermath culture” (Lambert and Simpson), referring not just to Rudd’s fall or Howard’s election loss, but to the broader shifting contexts within which most Australian citizens live, and within which they make sense of the terms “Australia” and “Australian”. Contemporary Australia is marked everywhere by cracks in coalitions and shifts in allegiances and belief systems – the Coalition of the Willing falling apart, the coalition government crushed by defeat, deposed leaders, and unlikely political shifts and (re)alignments in the face of a hung parliament and renewed pushes toward moral and cultural change. These breakdowns in allegiances are followed by swift symbolically charged manoeuvres. Gillard moved quickly to repair relations with mining companies damaged by Rudd’s plans for a mining tax and to water down frustration with the lack of a sustainable Emissions Trading Scheme. And one of the first things Kevin Rudd did as Prime Minister was to change the fittings and furnishings in the Prime Ministerial office, of which Wright observed that “Mr Howard is gone and Prime Minister Kevin Rudd has moved in, the Parliament House bureaucracy has ensured all signs of the old-style gentlemen's club… have been banished” (The Age, 5 Dec. 2007). Some of these signs were soon replaced by Ms. Gillard herself, who filled the office in turn with memorabilia from her beloved Footscray, an Australian Rules football team. In post-coalitional Australia the exile of the old Menzies’ desk and a pair of Chesterfield sofas works alongside the withdrawal of troops from Iraq and renewed pledges for military presence in Afghanistan, apologising to stolen generations of Indigenous Australians, the first female Governor General, deputy Prime Minister and then Prime Minister (the last two both Gillard), the repealing of disadvantageous workplace reform, a focus on climate change and global warming (with limited success as stated), a public, mandatory paid maternity leave scheme, changes to the processing and visas of refugees, and the amendments to more than one hundred laws that discriminate against same sex couples by the pre-Gillard, Rudd-led Labor government. The context for these changes was encapsulated in an announcement from Rudd, made in March 2008: Our core organising principle as a Government is equality of opportunity. And advancing people and their opportunities in life, we are a Government which prides itself on being blind to gender, blind to economic background, blind to social background, blind to race, blind to sexuality. (Rudd, “International”) Noting the political possibilities and the political convenience of blindness, this paper navigates the confusing context of post-coalitional Australia, whilst proffering an understanding of some of the cultural forces at work in this age of shifting and unstable alliances. I begin by interrogating the coalitional impulse post 9/11. I do this by connecting public coalitional shifts to the steady withdrawal of support for John Howard’s coalition, and movement away from George Bush’s Coalition of the Willing and the War on Terror. I then draw out a relationship between the rise and fall of such affiliations and recent shifts within government policy affecting same-sex couples, from former Prime Minister Howard’s amendments to The Marriage Act 1961 to the Rudd-Gillard administration’s attention to the discrimination in many Australian laws. Sexual Citizenship and Coalitions Rights and entitlements have always been constructed and managed in ways that live out understandings of biopower and social death (Foucault History; Discipline). The disciplining of bodies, identities and pleasures is so deeply entrenched in government and law that any non-normative claim to rights requires the negotiation of existing structures. Sexual citizenship destabilises the post-coalitional paradigm of Australian politics (one of “equal opportunity” and consensus) by foregrounding the normative biases that similarly transcend partisan politics. Sexual citizenship has been well excavated in critical work from Evans, Berlant, Weeks, Richardson, and Bell and Binnie’s The Sexual Citizen which argues that “many of the current modes of the political articulation of sexual citizenship are marked by compromise; this is inherent in the very notion itself… the twinning of rights with responsibilities in the logic of citizenship is another way of expressing compromise… Every entitlement is freighted with a duty” (2-3). This logic extends to political and economic contexts, where “natural” coalition refers primarily to parties, and in particular those “who have powerful shared interests… make highly valuable trades, or who, as a unit, can extract significant value from others without much risk of being split” (Lax and Sebinius 158). Though the term is always in some way politicised, it need not refer only to partisan, multiparty or multilateral configurations. The subscription to the norms (or normativity) of a certain familial, social, religious, ethnic, or leisure groups is clearly coalitional (as in a home or a front, a club or a team, a committee or a congregation). Although coalition is interrogated in political and social sciences, it is examined frequently in mathematical game theory and behavioural psychology. In the former, as in Axelrod’s The Evolution of Cooperation, it refers to people (or players) who collaborate to successfully pursue their own self-interests, often in the absence of central authority. In behavioural psychology the focus is on group formations and their attendant strategies, biases and discriminations. Experimental psychologists have found “categorizing individuals into two social groups predisposes humans to discriminate… against the outgroup in both allocation of resources and evaluation of conduct” (Kurzban, Tooby and Cosmides 15387). The actions of social organisation (and not unseen individual, supposedly innate impulses) reflect the cultural norms in coalitional attachments – evidenced by the relationship between resources and conduct that unquestioningly grants and protects the rights and entitlements of the larger, heteronormatively aligned “ingroup”. Terror Management Particular attention has been paid to coalitional formations and discriminatory practices in America and the West since September 11, 2001. Terror Management Theory or TMT (Greenberg, Pyszczynski and Solomon) has been the main framework used to explain the post-9/11 reassertion of large group identities along ideological, religious, ethnic and violently nationalistic lines. Psychologists have used “death-related stimuli” to explain coalitional mentalities within the recent contexts of globalised terror. The fear of death that results in discriminatory excesses is referred to as “mortality salience”, with respect to the highly visible aspects of terror that expose people to the possibility of their own death or suffering. Naverette and Fessler find “participants… asked to contemplate their own deaths exhibit increases in positive evaluations of people whose attitudes and values are similar to their own, and derogation of those holding dissimilar views” (299). It was within the climate of post 9/11 “mortality salience” that then Prime Minister John Howard set out to change The Marriage Act 1961 and the Family Law Act 1975. In 2004, the Government modified the Marriage Act to eliminate flexibility with respect to the definition of marriage. Agitation for gay marriage was not as noticeable in Australia as it was in the U.S where Bush publicly rejected it, and the UK where the Civil Union Act 2004 had just been passed. Following Bush, Howard’s “queer moral panic” seemed the perfect decoy for the increased scrutiny of Australia’s involvement in the Iraq war. Howard’s changes included outlawing adoption for same-sex couples, and no recognition for legal same-sex marriages performed in other countries. The centrepiece was the wording of The Marriage Amendment Act 2004, with marriage now defined as a union “between a man and a woman to the exclusion of all others”. The legislation was referred to by the Australian Greens Senator Bob Brown as “hateful”, “the marriage discrimination act” and the “straight Australia policy” (Commonwealth 26556). The Labor Party, in opposition, allowed the changes to pass (in spite of vocal protests from one member) by concluding the legal status of same-sex relations was in no way affected, seemingly missing (in addition to the obvious symbolic and physical discrimination) the equation of same-sex recognition with terror, terrorism and death. Non-normative sexual citizenship was deployed as yet another form of “mortality salience”, made explicit in Howard’s description of the changes as necessary in protecting the sanctity of the “bedrock institution” of marriage and, wait for it, “providing for the survival of the species” (Knight, 5 Aug. 2003). So two things seem to be happening here: the first is that when confronted with the possibility of their own death (either through terrorism or gay marriage) people value those who are most like them, joining to devalue those who aren’t; the second is that the worldview (the larger religious, political, social perspectives to which people subscribe) becomes protection from the potential death that terror/queerness represents. Coalition of the (Un)willing Yet, if contemporary coalitions are formed through fear of death or species survival, how, for example, might these explain the various forms of risk-taking behaviours exhibited within Western democracies targeted by such terrors? Navarette and Fessler (309) argue that “affiliation defences are triggered by a wider variety of threats” than “existential anxiety” and that worldviews are “in turn are reliant on ‘normative conformity’” (308) or “normative bias” for social benefits and social inclusions, because “a normative orientation” demonstrates allegiance to the ingroup (308-9). Coalitions are founded in conformity to particular sets of norms, values, codes or belief systems. They are responses to adaptive challenges, particularly since September 11, not simply to death but more broadly to change. In troubled times, coalitions restore a shared sense of predictability. In Howard’s case, he seemed to say, “the War in Iraq is tricky but we have a bigger (same-sex) threat to deal with right now. So trust me on both fronts”. Coalitional change as reflective of adaptive responses thus serves the critical location of subsequent shifts in public support. Before and since September 11 Australians were beginning to distinguish between moderation and extremism, between Christian fundamentalism and productive forms of nationalism. Howard’s unwavering commitment to the American-led war in Iraq saw Australia become a member of another coalition: the Coalition of the Willing, a post 1990s term used to describe militaristic or humanitarian interventions in certain parts of the world by groups of countries. Howard (in Pauly and Lansford 70) committed Australia to America’s fight but also to “civilization's fight… of all who believe in progress and pluralism, tolerance and freedom”. Although Bush claimed an international balance of power and influence within the coalition (94), some countries refused to participate, many quickly withdrew, and many who signed did not even have troops. In Australia, the war was never particularly popular. In 2003, forty-two legal experts found the war contravened International Law as well as United Nations and Geneva conventions (Sydney Morning Herald 26 Feb. 2003). After the immeasurable loss of Iraqi life, and as the bodies of young American soldiers (and the occasional non-American) began to pile up, the official term “coalition of the willing” was quietly abandoned by the White House in January of 2005, replaced by a “smaller roster of 28 countries with troops in Iraq” (ABC News Online 22 Jan. 2005). The coalition and its larger war on terror placed John Howard within the context of coalitional confusion, that when combined with the domestic effects of economic and social policy, proved politically fatal. The problem was the unclear constitution of available coalitional configurations. Howard’s continued support of Bush and the war in Iraq compounded with rising interest rates, industrial relations reform and a seriously uncool approach to the environment and social inclusion, to shift perceptions of him from father of the nation to dangerous, dithery and disconnected old man. Post-Coalitional Change In contrast, before being elected Kevin Rudd sought to reframe Australian coalitional relationships. In 2006, he positions the Australian-United States alliance outside of the notion of military action and Western territorial integrity. In Rudd-speak the Howard-Bush-Blair “coalition of the willing” becomes F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “willingness of the heart”. The term coalition was replaced by terms such as dialogue and affiliation (Rudd, “Friends”). Since the 2007 election, Rudd moved quickly to distance himself from the agenda of the coalition government that preceded him, proposing changes in the spirit of “blindness” toward marginality and sexuality. “Fix-it-all” Rudd as he was christened (Sydney Morning Herald 29 Sep. 2008) and his Labor government began to confront the legacies of colonial history, industrial relations, refugee detention and climate change – by apologising to Aboriginal people, timetabling the withdrawal from Iraq, abolishing the employee bargaining system Workchoices, giving instant visas and lessening detention time for refugees, and signing the Kyoto Protocol agreeing (at least in principle) to reduce green house gas emissions. As stated earlier, post-coalitional Australia is not simply talking about sudden change but an extension and a confusion of what has gone on before (so that the term resembles postcolonial, poststructural and postmodern because it carries the practices and effects of the original term within it). The post-coalitional is still coalitional to the extent that we must ask: what remains the same in the midst of such visible changes? An American focus in international affairs, a Christian platform for social policy, an absence of financial compensation for the Aboriginal Australians who received such an eloquent apology, the lack of coherent and productive outcomes in the areas of asylum and climate change, and an impenetrable resistance to the idea of same-sex marriage are just some of the ways in which these new governments continue on from the previous one. The Rudd-Gillard government’s dealings with gay law reform and gay marriage exemplify the post-coalitional condition. Emulating Christ’s relationship to “the marginalised and the oppressed”, and with Gillard at his side, Rudd understandings of the Christian Gospel as a “social gospel” (Rudd, “Faith”; see also Randell-Moon) to table changes to laws discriminating against gay couples – guaranteeing hospital visits, social security benefits and access to superannuation, resembling de-facto hetero relationships but modelled on the administering and registration of relationships, or on tax laws that speak primarily to relations of financial dependence – with particular reference to children. The changes are based on the report, Same Sex, Same Entitlements (HREOC) that argues for the social competence of queer folk, with respect to money, property and reproduction. They speak the language of an equitable economics; one that still leaves healthy and childless couples with limited recognition and advantage but increased financial obligation. Unable to marry in Australia, same-sex couples are no longer single for taxation purposes, but are now simultaneously subject to forms of tax/income auditing and governmental revenue collection should either same-sex partner require assistance from social security as if they were married. Heteronormative Coalition Queer citizens can quietly stake their economic claims and in most states discreetly sign their names on a register before becoming invisible again. Mardi Gras happens but once a year after all. On the topic of gay marriage Rudd and Gillard have deferred to past policy and to the immoveable nature of the law (and to Howard’s particular changes to marriage law). That same respect is not extended to laws passed by Howard on industrial relations or border control. In spite of finding no gospel references to Jesus the Nazarene “expressly preaching against homosexuality” (Rudd, “Faith”), and pre-election promises that territories could govern themselves with respect to same sex partnerships, the Rudd-Gillard government in 2008 pressured the ACT to reduce its proposed partnership legislation to that of a relationship register like the ones in Tasmania and Victoria, and explicitly demanded that there be absolutely no ceremony – no mimicking of the real deal, of the larger, heterosexual citizens’ “ingroup”. Likewise, with respect to the reintroduction of same-sex marriage legislation by Greens senator Sarah Hanson Young in September 2010, Gillard has so far refused a conscience vote on the issue and restated the “marriage is between a man and a woman” rhetoric of her predecessors (Topsfield, 30 Sep. 2010). At the same time, she has agreed to conscience votes on euthanasia and openly declared bi-partisan (with the federal opposition) support for the war in Afghanistan. We see now, from Howard to Rudd and now Gillard, that there are some coalitions that override political differences. As psychologists have noted, “if the social benefits of norm adherence are the ultimate cause of the individual’s subscription to worldviews, then the focus and salience of a given individual’s ideology can be expected to vary as a function of their need to ally themselves with relevant others” (Navarette and Fessler 307). Where Howard invoked the “Judaeo-Christian tradition”, Rudd chose to cite a “Christian ethical framework” (Rudd, “Faith”), that saw him and Gillard end up in exactly the same place: same sex relationships should be reduced to that of medical care or financial dependence; that a public ceremony marking relationship recognition somehow equates to “mimicking” the already performative and symbolic heterosexual institution of marriage and the associated romantic and familial arrangements. Conclusion Post-coalitional Australia refers to the state of confusion borne of a new politics of equality and change. The shift in Australia from conservative to mildly socialist government(s) is not as sudden as Howard’s 2007 federal loss or as short-lived as Gillard’s hung parliament might respectively suggest. Whilst allegiance shifts, political parties find support is reliant on persistence as much as it is on change – they decide how to buffer and bolster the same coalitions (ones that continue to privilege white settlement, Christian belief systems, heteronormative familial and symbolic practices), but also how to practice policy and social responsibility in a different way. Rudd’s and Gillard’s arguments against the mimicry of heterosexual symbolism and the ceremonial validation of same-sex partnerships imply there is one originary form of conduct and an associated sacred set of symbols reserved for that larger ingroup. Like Howard before them, these post-coalitional leaders fail to recognise, as Butler eloquently argues, “gay is to straight not as copy is to original, but as copy is to copy” (31). To make claims to status and entitlements that invoke the messiness of non-normative sex acts and romantic attachments necessarily requires the negotiation of heteronormative coalitional bias (and in some ways a reinforcement of this social power). As Bell and Binnie have rightly observed, “that’s what the hard choices facing the sexual citizen are: the push towards rights claims that make dissident sexualities fit into heterosexual culture, by demanding equality and recognition, versus the demand to reject settling for heteronormativity” (141). The new Australian political “blindness” toward discrimination produces positive outcomes whilst it explicitly reanimates the histories of oppression it seeks to redress. The New South Wales parliament recently voted to allow same-sex adoption with the proviso that concerned parties could choose not to adopt to gay couples. The Tasmanian government voted to recognise same-sex marriages and unions from outside Australia, in the absence of same-sex marriage beyond the current registration arrangements in its own state. In post-coalitional Australia the issue of same-sex partnership recognition pits parties and allegiances against each other and against themselves from within (inside Gillard’s “rainbow coalition” the Rainbow ALP group now unites gay people within the government’s own party). Gillard has hinted any new proposed legislation regarding same-sex marriage may not even come before parliament for debate, as it deals with real business. Perhaps the answer lies over the rainbow (coalition). As the saying goes, “there are none so blind as those that will not see”. References ABC News Online. “Whitehouse Scraps Coalition of the Willing List.” 22 Jan. 2005. 1 July 2007 ‹http://www.abc.net.au/news/newsitems/200501/s1286872.htm›. Axelrod, Robert. The Evolution of Cooperation. New York: Basic Books, 1984. Berlant, Lauren. The Queen of America Goes to Washington City: Essays on Sex and Citizenship. Durham: Duke University Press, 1997. Bell, David, and John Binnie. The Sexual Citizen: Queer Politics and Beyond. Cambridge, England: Polity, 2000. Butler, Judith. Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity. New York: Routledge, 1990. Commonwealth of Australia. Parliamentary Debates. House of Representatives 12 Aug. 2004: 26556. (Bob Brown, Senator, Tasmania.) Evans, David T. Sexual Citizenship: The Material Construction of Sexualities. London: Routledge, 1993. Foucault, Michel. Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison. Trans. A. Sheridan. London: Penguin, 1991. ———. The Will to Knowledge: The History of Sexuality. Vol. 1. Trans. Robert Hurley. London: Penguin, 1998. Greenberg, Jeff, Tom Pyszczynski, and Sheldon Solomon. “The Causes and Consequences of the Need for Self-Esteem: A Terror Management Theory.” Public Self, Private Self. Ed. Roy F. Baumeister. New York: Springer-Verlag, 1986. 189-212. Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission. Same-Sex: Same Entitlements Report. 2007. 21 Aug. 2007 ‹http://www.hreoc.gov.au/human_rights/samesex/report/index.html›. Kaplan, Morris. Sexual Justice: Democratic Citizenship and the Politics of Desire. New York: Routledge, 1997. Knight, Ben. “Howard and Costello Reject Gay Marriage.” ABC Online 5 Aug. 2003. Kurzban, Robert, John Tooby, and Leda Cosmides. "Can Race Be Erased? Coalitional Computation and Social Categorization." Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 98.26 (2001): 15387–15392. Lambert, Anthony, and Catherine Simpson. "Jindabyne’s Haunted Alpine Country: Producing (an) Australian Badland." M/C Journal 11.5 (2008). 20 Oct. 2010 ‹http://journal.media-culture.org.au/index.php/mcjournal/article/view/81›. Lax, David A., and James K. Lebinius. “Thinking Coalitionally: Party Arithmetic Process Opportunism, and Strategic Sequencing.” Negotiation Analysis. Ed. H. Peyton Young. Michigan: University of Michigan Press, 1991. 153-194. Naverette, Carlos, and Daniel Fessler. “Normative Bias and Adaptive Challenges: A Relational Approach to Coalitional Psychology and a Critique of Terror Management Theory.” Evolutionary Psychology 3 (2005): 297-325. Pauly, Robert J., and Tom Lansford. Strategic Preemption: US Foreign Policy and Second Iraq War. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005. Randall-Moon, Holly. "Neoliberal Governmentality with a Christian Twist: Religion and Social Security under the Howard-Led Australian Government." Eds. Michael Bailey and Guy Redden. Mediating Faiths: Religion and Socio- Cultural Change in the Twenty-First Century. Farnham: Ashgate, in press. Richardson, Diane. Rethinking Sexuality. London: Sage, 2000. Rudd, Kevin. “Faith in Politics.” The Monthly 17 (2006). 31 July 2007 ‹http://www.themonthly.com.au/monthly-essays-kevin-rudd-faith-politics--300›. Rudd, Kevin. “Friends of Australia, Friends of America, and Friends of the Alliance That Unites Us All.” Address to the 15th Australian-American Leadership Dialogue. The Australian, 24 Aug. 2007. 13 Mar. 2008 ‹http://www.theaustralian.com.au/national-affairs/climate/kevin-rudds-address/story-e6frg6xf-1111114253042›. Rudd, Kevin. “Address to International Women’s Day Morning Tea.” Old Parliament House, Canberra, 11 Mar. 2008. 1 Oct. 2010 ‹http://pmrudd.archive.dpmc.gov.au/node/5900›. Sydney Morning Herald. “Coalition of the Willing? Make That War Criminals.” 26 Feb. 2003. 1 July 2007 ‹http://www.smh.com.au/articles/2003/02/25/1046064028608.html›. Topsfield, Jewel. “Gillard Rules Out Conscience Vote on Gay Marriage.” The Age 30 Sep. 2010. 1 Oct. 2010 ‹http://www.theage.com.au/national/gillard-rules-out-conscience-vote-on-gay-marriage-20100929-15xgj.html›. Weeks, Jeffrey. "The Sexual Citizen." Theory, Culture and Society 15.3-4 (1998): 35-52. Wright, Tony. “Suite Revenge on Chesterfield.” The Age 5 Dec. 2007. 4 April 2008 ‹http://www.theage.com.au/news/national/suite-revenge-on-chesterfield/2007/12/04/1196530678384.html›.

BASTARDYAll children born before matrimony, or so long after the death of the husband as to render it impossible that the child could be begotten by him, are bastards.– Cro. Jac. 451William Toone: The Magistrates Manual, 1817 (66)On 4 September 1832, the body of a newborn baby boy was found washed up on the shore at the port town of Fremantle, Western Australia. As the result of an inquest into the child’s suspicious death, a 20-year-old, unmarried woman named Mary Summerland was accused of concealing his birth. In October 2014, 25-year-old Irish backpacker Caroline Quinn faced court in Perth, Western Australia, over claims that she concealed the birth of her stillborn child after giving birth in the remote north west town of Halls Creek during May of the same year. Both women denied the existence of their children, both appear to have given birth to their “illegitimate” babies alone, and both women claimed that they did not know that they had ever been pregnant at all. In addition, both women hid the body of their dead child for several days while the people they lived with or were close to, did not appear to notice that the mother of the child had had a baby. In neither case did any person associated with either woman seek to look for the missing child after it had been born.Despite occurring 182 years apart, the striking similarities between these cases could lead to the assumption that it is almost as if there were a written script of behaviour that would explain the actions of both young women. Close examination of the laws surrounding child murder, infanticide and concealment of birth reveals evidence of similar behaviours being enacted by women as far back as the 1600s (and earlier), and all are shaped in response to the legal frameworks that prosecuted women who gave birth outside of marriage.This article traces the history of child murder law from its formation in England in the 1600s and explores how early moral assumptions concerning unmarried mothers echoed through the lived experiences of women who killed their illegitimate babies in colonial Western Australia, and continue to resonate in the treatment of, and legal response to, women accused of similar crimes in the present day. The Unlicensed ChildThe unlicensed child is a term coined by Swain and Howe to more accurately define the social matrix faced by single women and their children in Australia. The term seeks to emphasise the repressive and controlling religious, legal and social pressures that acted on Australian women who had children outside marriage until the mid-1970s (xxi, 1, 92, 94). For the purposes of this article, I extend Swain and Howe’s term the unlicensed child to coin the term the unlicensed mother. Following on from Swain and Howe’s definition, if the children of unmarried mothers did not have a license to be born, it is essential to acknowledge that their mothers did not have a license to give birth. Women who had children without social and legal sanction gave birth within a society that did not allocate them “permission” to be mothers, something that the corporeality of pregnancy made it impossible for them not to be. Their own bodies—and the bodies of the babies growing inside them—betrayed them. Unlicensed mothers were punished socially, religiously, legally and financially, and their children were considered sinful and inferior to children who had married parents simply because they had been born (Scheper-Hughes 410). This unspoken lack of authorisation to experience the unavoidably innate physicality of pregnancy, birth and motherhood, in turn implies that, until recently unmarried mothers did not have license to be mothers. Two MothersAll that remains of the “case” of Mary Summerland is a file archived at the State Records Office of Western Australia under the title CONS 3472, Item 10: Rex V Mary Summerland. Yet revealed within those sparse documents is a story echoed by the events surrounding Caroline Quinn nearly two hundred years later. In September 1832, Mary Summerland was an unmarried domestic servant living and working in Fremantle when the body of a baby was found lying on a beach very close to the settlement. Western Australia had only been colonized by the British in 1829. The discovery of the body of an infant in such a tiny village (colonial Fremantle had a population of only 436 women and girls out of 1341 non-Aboriginal emigrants) (Gardiner) set in motion an inquest that resulted in Mary Summerland being investigated over the suspicious death of the child.The records suggest that Mary may have given birth, apparently alone, over a week prior to the corpse of the baby being discovered, yet no one in Fremantle, including her employer and her family, appeared to have noticed that Mary might have been pregnant, or that she had given birth to a child. When Mary Summerland was eventually accused of giving birth to the baby, she strongly denied that she had ever been pregnant, and denied being the mother of the child. It is not known how her infant ended up being disposed of in the ocean. It is also not known if Mary was eventually charged with concealment or child murder, but in either scenario, the case against her was dismissed as “no true bill” when she faced her trial. The details publically available on the case of Caroline Quinn are also sparse. Even the sex of her child has not been revealed in any of the media coverage of the event. Yet examination of the limited details available on her charge of “concealment of birth” reveal similarities between her behaviours and those of Mary Summerland.In May 2014 Caroline Quinn had been “travelling with friends in the Kimberly region of Western Australia” (Lee), and, just as Mary did, Caroline claims she “did not realise that she was pregnant” when she went into labour (Independent.ie). She appears, like Mary Summerland, to have given birth alone, and also like Mary, when her child died due to unexplained circumstances she hid the corpse for several days. Also echoing Mary’s story, no person in the sparsely populated Hall’s Creek community (the town has a populace of 1,211) or any friends in Caroline’s circle of acquaintances appears to have noticed her pregnancy, nor did they realise that she had given birth to a baby until the body of the child was discovered hidden in a hotel room several days after her or his birth. The media records are unclear as to whether Caroline revealed her condition to her friends or whether they “discovered” the body without her assistance. The case was not brought to the attention of authorities until Caroline’s friends took her to receive medical attention at the local hospital and staff there notified the police.Media coverage of the death of Caroline Quinn’s baby suggests her child was stillborn or died soon after birth. As of 13 August 2014 Caroline was granted leave by the Chief Magistrate to return home to Ireland while she awaited her trial, as “without trivialising the matter, nothing more serious was alleged than the concealing of the birth” (Collins, "Irish Woman"). Caroline Quinn was not required to return to Australia to appear at her trial and when the case was presented at the Perth Magistrates Court on Thursday 2 October, all charges against her were dropped as the prosecutor felt “it was not in the public interest” to proceed with legal action (Collins, "Case").Statutory MarginalisationTo understand the similarities between the behaviours of, and legal and medical response to, Mary Summerland and Caroline Quinn, it is important to situate the deaths of their children within the wider context of child murder, concealment of birth and “bastardy” law. Tracing the development of these methods of law-making clarifies the parallels between much of the child murder, infanticide and concealment of birth narrative that has occurred in Western Australia since non-Aboriginal settlement.Despite the isolated nature of Western Australia, the nearly 400 years since the law was formed in England, and the extremely remote rural locations where both these women lived and worked, their stories are remarkably alike. It is almost as if there were a written script and each member of the cast knew what role to play: both Mary and Caroline knew to hide their pregnancies, to deny the overwhelmingly traumatic experience of giving birth alone, and to conceal the corpses of their babies. The fathers of their children appear to have cut off any connection to the women or their child. The family, friends, or employers of the parents of the dead babies knew to pretend that they did not know that the mother was pregnant or who the father was. The police and medical officers knew to charge these women and to collect evidence that could be used to simultaneously meet the needs of the both prosecution and the defence when the cases were brought to trial.In reference to Mary Summerland’s case, in colonial Western Australia when a woman gave birth to an infant who died under suspicious circumstances, she could be prosecuted with two charges: “child murder” and/or “concealment of birth”. It is suggestive that Mary may have been charged with both. The laws regarding these two offences were focused almost exclusively on the deaths of unlicensed children and were so deeply interconnected they are difficult to untangle. For Probyn, shame pierces the centre of who we think we are, “what makes it remarkable is that it reveals with precision our values, hopes and aspirations, beyond the generalities of good manners and cultured norms” (x). Dipping into the streams of legal and medical discourse that flow back to the seventeenth century highlights the pervasiveness of discourses marginalising single women and their children. This situates Mary Summerland and Caroline Quinn within a ‘burden on society’ narrative of guilt, blame and shame that has been in circulation for over 500 years, and continues to resonate in the present (Coull).An Act to Prevent the Destroying and Murthering of Bastard ChildrenIn England prior to the 17th century, penalties for extramarital sex, the birth and/or maintenance of unlicensed children or for committing child murder were expressed through church courts (Damme 2-6; Rapaport 548; Butler 61; Hoffer and Hull 3-4). Discussion of how the punishment of child murder left the religious sphere and came to be regulated by secular laws that were focused exclusively on the unlicensed mother points to two main arguments: firstly, the patriarchal response to unlicensed (particularly female) sexuality; and secondly, a moral panic regarding a perceived rise in unlicensed pregnancies in women of the lower classes, and the resulting financial burden placed on local parishes to support unwanted, unlicensed children (Rapaport 532, 48-52; McMahon XVII, 126-29; Osborne 49; Meyer 3-8 of 14). In many respects, as Meyer suggests, “the legal system subtly encouraged neonaticide through its nearly universally negative treatment of bastard children” (240).The first of these “personal control laws” (Hoffer and Hull 13) was the Old Poor Law created by Henry VIII in 1533, and put in place to regulate all members of English society who needed to rely on the financial assistance of the parish to survive. Prior to 1533, “by custom the children of the rich depended on their relations, while the ‘fatherless poor’ relied on the charity of the monastic institutions and the municipalities” (Teichman 60-61). Its implementation marks the historical point where the state began to take responsibility for maintenance of the poor away from the church by holding communities responsible for “the problem of destitution” (Teichman 60-61; Meyer 243).The establishment of the poor law system of relief created a hierarchy of poverty in which some poor people, such as those suffering from sickness or those who were old, were seen as worthy of receiving support, while others, who were destitute as a result of “debauchery” or other self-inflicted means were seen as undeserving and sent to a house of correction or common gaol. Underprivileged, unlicensed mothers and their children were seen to be part of the category of recipients unfit for help (Jackson 31). Burdens on SocietyIt was in response to the narrative of poor unlicensed women and their children being undeserving fiscal burdens on law abiding, financially stretched community members that in 1576 a law targeted specifically at holding genetic parents responsible for the financial maintenance of unlicensed children entered the secular courts for the first time. Called the Elizabethan Poor Law it was enacted in response to the concerns of local parishes who felt that, due to the expenses exacted by the poor laws, they were being burdened with the care of a greatly increased number of unlicensed children (Jackson 30; Meyer 5-6; Teichman 61). While the 1576 legislation prosecuted both parents of unlicensed children, McMahon interprets the law as being created in response to a blend of moral and economic forces, undergirded by a deep, collective fear of illegitimacy (McMahon 128). By the 1570s “unwed mothers were routinely whipped and sent to prison” (Meyer 242) and “guardians of the poor” could force unlicensed mothers to wear a “badge” (Teichman 63). Yet surprisingly, while parishes felt that numbers of unlicensed children were increasing, no concomitant rise was actually recorded (McMahon 128).The most damning evidence of the failure of this law, was the surging incidence of infanticide following its implementation (Rapaport 548-49; Hoffer and Hull 11-13). After 1576 the number of women prosecuted for infanticide increased by 225 percent. Convictions resulting in unlicensed mothers being executed also rose (Meyer 246; Hoffer and Hull 8, 18).Infanticide IncreasesBy 1624 the level of infanticide in local communities was deemed to be so great An Act to Prevent the Destroying and Murthering of Bastard Children was created. The Act made child murder a “sex-specific crime”, focused exclusively on the unlicensed mother, who if found guilty of the offence was punished by death. Probyn suggests that “shame is intimately social” (77) and indeed, the wording of An Act to Prevent highlights the remarkably similar behaviours enacted by single women desperate to avoid the shame and criminal implication linked to the social position of unlicensed mother: Whereas many lewd Women that have been delivered of Bastard Children, to avoyd their shame and to escape punishment [my italics], doe secretlie bury, or conceale the Death of their Children, and after if the child be found dead the said Women doe alleadge that the said Children were borne dead;…For the preventing therefore of this great Mischiefe…if any Woman…be delivered of any issue of the Body, Male or Female, which being born alive, should by the Lawes of this Realm be a bastard, and that she endeavour privatlie either by drowning or secret burying thereof, or any other way, either by herselfe of the procuring of others, soe to conceale the Death thereof, as that it may not come to light, whether it be borne alive or not, but be concealed, in every such Case the Mother so offending shall suffer Death… (Davies 214; O'Donovan 259; Law Reform Commission of Western Australia 104; Osborne 49; Rose 1-2; Rapaport 548). An Act to Prevent also “contained an extraordinary provision which was a reversion of the ordinary common law presumption of dead birth” (Davies 214), removing the burden of proof from the prosecution and placing it on the defence (Francus 133; McMahon 128; Meyer 2 of 14). The implication being that if the dead body of a newborn, unlicensed baby was found hidden, it was automatically assumed that the child had been murdered by their mother (Law Reform Commission of Western Australia 104; Osborne 49; Rapaport 549-50; Francus 133). This made the Act unusual in that “the offence involved was the concealment of death rather than the death itself” (O'Donovan 259). The only way an unlicensed mother charged with child murder was able to avoid capital punishment was to produce at least one witness to give evidence that the child was “borne dead” (Law Reform Commission of Western Australia 104; Meyer 238; McMahon 126-27).Remarkable SimilaritiesClearly, the objective of An Act to Prevent was not simply to preserve infant life. It is suggestive that it was enacted in response to women wishing to avoid the legal, social, corporal and religious punishment highlighted by the implementation of the poor law legislation enacted throughout earlier centuries. It is also suggestive that these pressures were so powerful that threat of death if found guilty of killing their neonate baby was not enough to deter women from concealing their unlicensed pregnancies and committing child murder. Strikingly analogous to the behaviours of Mary Summerland in 19th century colonial Western Australia, and Caroline Quinn in 2014, the self-preservation implicit in the “strategies of secrecy” (Gowing 87) surrounding unlicensed birth and child murder often left the mother of a dead baby as the only witness to her baby’s death (McMahon xvii 49-50).An Act to Prevent set in motion the legislation that was eventually used to prosecute Mary Summerland in colonial Western Australia (Jackson 7, Davies, 213) and remnants of it still linger in the present where they have been incorporated into the ‘concealment of birth law’ that prosecuted Caroline Quinn (Legal Online TLA [10.1.182]).Changing the ‘Script’Shame runs like a viral code through the centuries to resonate within the legal response to women who committed infanticide in colonial Western Australia. It continues on through the behaviours of, and legal responses to, the story of Caroline Quinn and her child. As Probyn observes, “shame reminds us about the promises we keep to ourselves” in turn revealing our desire for belonging and elements of our deepest fears (p. x). While Caroline may live in a society that no longer outwardly condemns women who give birth outside of marriage, it is fascinating that the suite of behaviours manifested in response to her pregnancy and the birth of her child—by herself, her friends, and the wider community—can be linked to the narratives surrounding the formation of “child murder” and “concealment” law nearly 400 years earlier. Caroline’s narrative also encompasses similar behaviours enacted by Mary Summerland in 1832, in particular that Caroline knew to say that her child was “born dead” and that she had merely concealed her or his body—nothing more. This behaviour appears to have secured the release of both women as although both Mary and Caroline faced criminal investigation, neither was convicted of any crime. Yet, neither of these women or their small communities were alone in their responses. My research has uncovered 55 cases linked to child murder in Western Australia and the people involved in all of these incidences share unusually similar behaviours (Gardiner). Perhaps, it is only through the wider community becoming aware of the resonance of child murder law echoing through the centuries, that certain women who are pregnant with unwanted children will be able to write a different script for themselves, and their “unlicensed” children. ReferencesButler, Sara, M. "A Case of Indifference? Child Murder in Later Medieval England." Journal of Women's History 19.4 (2007): 59-82. Collins, Padraig. "Case against Irish Woman for Concealing Birth Dropped." The Irish Times 2 Oct. 2014. ---. "Irish Woman Held for Hiding Birth in Australia Allowed Return Home." The Irish Times 13 Aug. 2014. Coull, Kim. “The Womb Artist – A Novel: Translating Late Discovery Adoptee Pre-Verbal Trauma into Narrative”. Dissertation. Perth, WA: Edith Cowan University, 2014.Damme, Catherine. "Infanticide: The Worth of an Infant under Law." Medical History 22.1 (1978): 1-24. Davies, D.S. "Child-Killing in English Law." The Modern Law Review 1.3 (1937): 203-23. Dickinson, J.R., and J.A. Sharpe. "Infanticide in Early Modern England: The Court of Great Sessions at Chester, 1650-1800." Infanticide: Historical Perspectives on Child Murder and Concealment, 1550-2000. Ed. Mark Jackson. Hants: Ashgate, 2002. 35-51.Francus, Marilyn. "Monstrous Mothers, Monstrous Societies: Infanticide and the Rule of Law in Restoration and Eighteenth-Century England." Eighteenth-Century Life 21.2 (1997): 133-56. Gardiner, Amanda. "Sex, Death and Desperation: Infanticide, Neonaticide and Concealment of Birth in Colonial Western Australia." Dissertation. Perth, WA: Edith Cowan University, 2014.Gowing, Laura. "Secret Births and Infanticide in Seventeenth-Century England." Past & Present 156 (1997): 87-115. Hoffer, Peter C., and N.E.H. Hull. Murdering Mothers: Infanticide in England and New England 1558-1803. New York: New York University Press, 1984. Independent.ie. "Irish Woman Facing Up to Two Years in Jail for Concealing Death of Her Baby in Australia." 8 Aug. 2014. Law Reform Commission of Western Australia. "Chapter 3: Manslaughter and Other Homicide Offences." Review of the Law of Homicide: Final Report. Perth: Law Reform Commission of Western Australia, 2007. 85-117.Lee, Sally. "Irish Backpacker Charged over the Death of a Baby She Gave Birth to While Travelling in the Australia [sic] Outback." Daily Mail 8 Aug. 2014. Legal Online. "The Laws of Australia." Thomson Reuters 2010. McMahon, Vanessa. Murder in Shakespeare's England. London: Hambledon and London, 2004. Meyer, Jon'a. "Unintended Consequences for the Youngest Victims: The Role of Law in Encouraging Neonaticide from the Seventeenth to Nineteenth Centuries." Criminal Justice Studies 18.3 (2005): 237-54. O'Donovan, K. "The Medicalisation of Infanticide." Criminal Law Review (May 1984): 259-64. Osborne, Judith A. "The Crime of Infanticide: Throwing Out the Baby with the Bathwater." Canadian Journal of Family Law 6 (1987): 47-59. Rapaport, Elizabeth. "Mad Women and Desperate Girls: Infanticide and Child Murder in Law and Myth." Fordham Urban Law Journal 33.2 (2006): 527-69.Rose, Lionel. The Massacre of the Innocents: Infanticide in Britain, 1800-1939. London: Routledge & Kegan, 1986. Scheper-Hughes, Nancy. Death without Weeping: The Violence of Everyday Life in Brazil. Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1992. Swain, Shurlee, and Renate Howe. Single Mothers and Their Children: Disposal, Punishment and Survival in Australia. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995. Teichman, Jenny. Illegitimacy: An Examination of Bastardy. Oxford: Cornell University Press, 1982. Toone, William. The Magistrate's Manual: Or a Summary of the Duties and Powers of a Justice of the Peace. 2nd ed. London: Joseph Butterworth and Son, 1817.

In the 16th century Philippines, the marriage of the Church and the State was the dominant set-up by virtue of Spain’s quest for colonization and evangelization. Civil administrators and church missionaries were called to cooperate the will of the king. Inmost cases, their point of contact was also the area of friction because of their opposing intentions. The early Spanish missionaries in the 16th century Philippines were influenced by the teachings of Bartolome de Las Casas and Vitoria that ignited them to confront their civil counterparts who were after getting the wealth and resources of the natives at the expense of their dignity and rights. Since the King showed interest in protecting the rights of the Indians, Churchmen used legal procedures, reports and personaltestimonies in the Royal Court to create changes in the systems employed in the islands. The relationship between the Spaniards and the natives cannot be reduced to a monolithic relationship between the two races. The power dynamics should be viewed within the plethora of groups who were engaged in the discourse including the bishop of Manila, governor-general, encomenderos, adelantados, soldiers, religious orders, native leaders and even the common indios. Given the canvas of conflicting motives, the proponents of conquests and missionary undertakings grappled to persuade the Spanish Royal Court to take their respective stand on the disputed human rights and justice issues on the legitimacy of the conquest, tributes, slavery and forced labor. References Primary Documentary Sources Anales Ecclesiasticos de Philipinas: 1574-1682. Volume 1. Manila: Archdioceseof Manila Archives, 1994. Arancel. Quezon City: Archivo de la Provincia del Santo Rosario (APSR), MSTomo 3, Doc.3. Blair, Emma Helen and Robertson Alexander, eds. at annots. The Philippine Islands,1493-1898: Explorations by Early Navigators, Descriptions ofthe Islands and Their Peoples, their History and Records of the CatholicMissions, as related in Contemporaneous Books and ManuscriptsShowing the Political, Economic, Commercial and Religious Conditionsof Those Islands from Their Earliest Conditions with European Nationsto the Close of the Nineteenth Century. 55 Volumes. Cleveland: ArthurH Clark, 1903-1909. Hereinafter referred to as B and R. The followingprimary documents were used in this dissertation: Colin-Pastells. LaborEvangelica I. Historical Conservation Society. The Christianizationof the Philippines. Manila: Historical Conservation Society, 1965. Keen, Benjamin, Editor. Latin American Civilization: History and Society, 1492to the Present. London: Westview Press, 1986. Las Casas, Bartolome. Historia de las Indias. Mexico, 1951. __________________. The Spanish Colonie. University Microfilms Inc., 1996.Licuanan, Virginia Benitez and Mira Jose Llavador, eds and annots. PhilippinesUnder Spain. 6 Volumes. Manila: National Trust for Historical and Cultural Preservation of the Philippines, 1996. Munoz Text of Alcina’s History of the Bisayan Islands (1668). Translated byPaul S. Lietz. Chicago: Philippine Studies Program, 1960. National Historical Commission, Coleccion de Documentos Ineditos de Ultramar,Madrid, 1887. Navarette, Martin Fernandez D. Colleccion de los Viajes y descubrimientos queHicieron por mar los espanoles desde fines del siglo XV. Madrid: 1825-1837. Pastells, Pablo. Historia General de Filipinas in Catalogo de los DocumentosRelativos a las Islas Filipinas. Barcelona, 1925. Recopilacion de Leyes de los Reynos de las Indias. Tomo I. Madrid, 1943.San Agustin, Gaspar de. Conquistas de las Islas Filipinas: 1565-1615. Translatedby Luis Antonio Maneru. Bilingual Edition. Manila: San Agustin Museum, 1998. Zaide, Gregorio, eds. at annots. Documentary Sources of Philippine History. 14Volumes. Manila: National Bookstore, 1990. Secondary Sources Books Chan, Manuel T. The Audiencia and the Legal System in the Philippines (1583-1900). Manila: Progressive Printing Palace, Inc., 1998. Cunningham, Charles Henry. The Audiencia in the Spanish Colonies: AsIllustrated by the Audiencia of Manila 1583-1800. Berkeley: Universityof California Press, 1919. Cushner, Nicolas P. The Isles of the West: Early Spanish Voyages to thePhilippines, 1521-1564. Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila Press, 1966. _________________. Spain in the Philippines: From Conquest to the Revolution. Aberdeen:Cathay Press Ltd., 1971. De la Costa, Horacio. Jesuits in the Philippines. Cambridge: Harvard UniversityPress, 1961. De la Rosa, Rolando V. Beginnings of the Filipino Dominicans. Manila: USTPress, 1990. Fernandez, Pablo. History of the Church in the Philippines. Manila: NationalBookstore, 1979. Gutierrez, Lucio, O.P. Domingo Salazar, OP First Bishop of the Philippines: 1512-1594. Manila: University of Santo Tomas Press, 2001. Haring, C.H. The Spanish Empire in America. New York: Harcourt, Brace andWorld Inc., 1963. Keen, Banjamin. A History of Latin America, 5th Edition. Vol.1. Boston: HoughtonMifflin Company, 1996. Keller, Albert Galloway. Colonization. Boston: 1908. Luengo, Josemaria. A History of Manila-Acapulco Slave Trade (1565-1815). Bohol:Mater Dei Publications, 1996. Munoz, Honorio. Vitoria and the Conquest of America: A Study on the FirstReading on the Indians. Manila: UST Press, 1938. _____________. Vitoria and War: A Study on the Second Reading on the Indians oron the Right of War. Manila: UST Press, 1937. Noone, Martin. The Islands Saw It.1521-1581. Ireland: Helicon Press, 1982. Pitrie, Sir Charles. Philip II of Spain. London: Eyre and Spottiswoode, 1963. Porras, Jose Luis. The Synod of Manila of 1582. Translated by Barranco, Carballo,Echevarra, Felix, Powell and Syquia. Manila: Historical Conservation Society, 1990. Rafael. Vicente. Contracting Colonialism. Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila Press, 1998. Santiago, Luciano P.R. To Love and To Suffer: The Development of theReligious Congregations for Women in the Spanish Philippines, 1565-1898. Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila Press, 2005. Scott, J.B. Francisco de Vitoria and His Law of Nations. Oxford, 1934.Scott, William Henry. Slavery in the Spanish Philippines. Manila: De la Salle UniversityPress, 1991. Shumway, David. Michel Foucault. Virginia: G. K. Hall and Co., 1989. Simpson, Lesley Byrd. The Encomienda in New Spain: The Beginning ofSpanish Mexico. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1966. Sitoy, Valentino Jr. The Initial Encounter: a History of Christianity in the Philippines,Vol. 1. Quezon City: New Day Publishers, 1985. Zafra, Nicolas. Readings in Philippine History. Manila. University of the Philippines, 1947. Zaide, Gregorio F. The Pageant of Philippine History Vol. 1. Manila: 1979. Articles Arcilla, Jose S. S.J., The Spanish Conquest. Kasaysayan: The Story of theFilipino People Vol. 3. Hongkong: C & C Offset Printing Co., Ltd, 1998. Bernal, Rafael. “Introduction.” The Colonization and Conquest of the Philippinesby Spain: Some Contemporary Source Documents. Manila: FilipinianaBook Guild, 1965. Burkholder, Mark A. “Sepulveda, Juan Gines de.” Encyclopedia of Latin AmericanHistory and Culture Vol.5. Edited by Barbara A. Tenenbaum. NewYork: Macmillan Library Reference, 1996. Burkholder, Susanne Hiles. “Vitoria, Francisco de.” Encyclopedia of Latin AmericanHistory and Culture Vol.5 Edited by Barbara A. Tenenbaum.New York: Macmillan Library Reference, 1996. De Jesus, Edilberto. “Christianity and Conquest: The Basis of Spanish SovereigntyOver the Philippines.” The Beginnings of Christianity in the Philippines.Manila: Philippine Historical Institute, 1965. Donovan, William. “Las Casas, Bartolome.” Encyclopedia of Latin American Historyand Culture Vol.3. Edited by Barbara A. Tenenbaum. New York:Macmillan Library Reference, 1996. Gutierrez, Lucio. “Domingo de Salazar’s Struggle for Justice and Humanizationin the Conquest of the Philippines.” Philippiniana Sacra 14, 1975. ____________. “Domingo de Salazar, OP, First Bishop of the Philippines (1512-1594): Defender of the Rights of the Filipinos at the Spanish Contact”Philippiniana Sacra XX, 1979. ____________. “Domingo de Salazar’s Memorial of 1582 on the Status of the Philippines:A Manifesto for Freedom and Humanization.” Philippiniana SacraVol. 21, No. 63, 1986. ___________. “Opinion of Fr. Domingo de Salazar, O.P. First Bishop of the Philippinesand the Major Religious Superiors Regarding Slaves.” PhilippinianaSacra Vol. 22, No. 64, 1986. ___________. “The Synod of Manila: 1581-1586.” Philippiniana Sacra Vol. XXV, No.74, 1990. Keith, Robert G. “Encomienda,Hacienda and Corregimiento in Spanish America:A Structural Analysis.” Hispanic American Historical Review 51:pp.110-116. Kirkpatrick, F. A. “Repartimiento-Encomienda.” Hispanic American HistoricalReview XIX: pp.373-379. Pastrana, Apolinar. “The Franciscans and the Evangelization of the Philippines(1578-1900).” Boletin Eclesiastico de Filipinas, 29, Jan-Feb 1965:pp.83-85. Quirk, Robert E. “Some Notes on a Controversial Controversy: Juan Gines deSepulveda and Natural Servitude.” Hispanic American Historical ReviewVol.XXXIV No.3 August 1954: 358. Ramirez, Susan S. “Encomienda.” Encyclopedia of Latin American History andCulture, Vol.2 Edited by Barbara A. Tenenbaum. New York: MacmillanLibrary Reference, 1996. Schwaller, John F. “Patronato Real”. Encyclopedia in Latin American History andCulture, Vol.4. Edited by Barbara a. Tenenbaum. New York: MacmillanLibrary Reference, 1996. Scott. William Henry. “Why did Tupas betray Dagami?” Philippine Quarterly ofCulture and Society 14 (1986): p.24. Villaroel, Fidel. “The Church and the Philippine Referendum of 1599.” PhilippinianaSacra Vol.XXXV 2000: pp.89-128. Internet Source Hyperdictionary. http://www. hyperdictionary.com/dictionary/politics, accessedon 18 December 2004. Human Rights Watch World Report for Philippines, 2017 https://www.hrw.org/world-report/2017/country-chapters/philippines. General References Encyclopedia of Latin American History and Culture, Volume 1-5. Edited byBarbara A. Tenebaum. New York: Macmillan Library Reference, 1996. Kasaysayan: The Story of the Filipino People ,Vol. 3 The Spanish Conquest.Hongkong: Asia Publishing Company Limited, 1998. Unpublished Materials Cabezon, Antonio. An Introduction to Church and State Relations According toFrancisco Vitoria. Unpublished Thesis: University of Sto. Tomas, 1964. De la Costa, Horacio. Jurisdictional Conflicts in the Philippines During the XVIand the XVII Centuries. Harvard: Unpublished Dissertation, 1951.

Welcome to the ‘bubbles’ issue of M/C Journal. When we first pitched the idea of ‘bubbles’ for an issue of M/C Journal it was 2019, several months before COVID-19 was identified in Wuhan, China, and the resulting pandemic that brought the term ‘bubble’ to prominence in ways we had not even imagined. Our pre-pandemic line of enquiry focussed on how bubbles manifested themselves within popular culture and society and how the media reported on these concepts. Thinking about bubbles from bubbly champagne to the ‘political bubble’ we asked researchers to think about the ephemeral nature of bubbles. And indeed some of the articles in this edition reflect this original line of enquiry. COVID-19 however brought to us a whole new meaning of bubbles. Suddenly governments were urging people to ‘stay in their bubbles’ and, in Australia, the idea of ‘travel bubbles’ between countries with similarly low rates of COVID-19 emerged. Mary-Louise McLaws described the ‘germ bubble’ as those we don’t physically distance from, our close contacts. A year ago – in March 2020 – the global community began to exist within a restricted bubble that limited our contact with the wider world. For the most part, that bubble remains 12 months later. Some of the articles for this issue focus on the ways COVID-19 has brought new bubbles to our social and political landscape. Despite the recent prominence of COVID-19, the feature article tackles another bubble that has continued to dominate headlines in Australia. Angelika Heurich and Jo Coghlan examine the ‘Canberra Bubble’ – a toxic culture of sexualised, bullying, hyper-masculinity, that seeks to silence and discredit those who speak out, operating in ways out of line with modern Australia and workplace laws. From claims of rape against the Attorney-General to a Prime Minister who failed to even read the complaint against the highest law officer in Australia, to Brittany Higgins being called a “lying cow” and Grace Tame’s forensic analysis of Morrison’s lack of conscience, Australia’s #MeToo moment threatens to bring down a government. The ‘Canberra Bubble’ may have been the Australian word of the year in 2018, argue Fincina Hopgood and Jodi Brooks, but 2020 belonged to the COVID-19 bubble. Their article takes stock on how the words ‘iso’ and ‘bubble’ came to prominence as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic. It follows up with an examination on how the COVID-19 bubble is conceived across different cohorts, and in particular for those of the fourth age – the older generation. The COVID-19 pandemic brought into relief another long-term political and social problem in Australia, how Australians of are taken care of in their twilight years. Hopgood and Brooks interrogate how, despite a Royal Commission into the running of aged care homes that recommended change, the pandemic exacerbated the vulnerability of people in aged care homes. For governments to effectively manage COVID-19 bubbles, they need to rely on pre-existing relationships with the publics they represent. Xiang Gao’s article investigates the role social capital has played in the ability for different governments to manage the response to the COVID-19 pandemic. It critically examines how pre-existing social capital has enabled governments to effectively establish social distancing measures and household ‘bubbles’. Examining these concepts in the Chinese and American contexts, Gao finds that the governmental responses to the pandemic were not only reliant on established social capital, but have also changed the relationship between governments and publics. With the USA, Brazil shared the dubious honour of being widely criticised for the governmental response to the pandemic. Filipe Soares and Raquel Recuero tackle the political media landscape of reporting on COVID-19 in Brazil. They interrogate the role of the Brazilian media in the promotion of disinformation around the pandemic through three media case studies, finding that the intersection between traditional mass media and social media can exacerbate erroneous reporting. Managing the pandemic did not solely focus on the need to protect certain populations. Many governments highlighted the need for economic activities to continue. For commercial sports which already existed within a ‘sporting bubble’, the COVID-19 pandemic brought another bubble to the rarefied world of professional sports. The creation of a ‘sporting bubble’ enjoyed wide support from both political and media commentators. Adele Pavlidis and David Rowe consider the social effects of the creation of the ‘sporting bubble’ had both on those who found themselves inside, and on those who were left out. While at times the bubble could feel more like a cage, transgressions by sporting personalities often went unpunished. Further, the ‘sporting bubble’ was highly gendered, with those inside the bubble being predominantly men, which served to intensified pre-existing gender inequalities within professional sports. For those on the outside of the political mainstream, the Canberra bubble can appear to be an impervious boundary to cross. Bronwyn Fredericks and Abraham Bradfield argue that The Uluru Statement of the Heart was treated by politicians as little more than a ‘thought bubble’, destined to disintegrate into nothing, despite it being a culmination of numerous voices within Australian society. Recognition of Indigenous Australians in the Constitution is a measure that enjoys wide support across the Australian community, yet this has not led to meaningful action. Fredericks and Bradfield examine the various contemporary and historical factors that have led to the slow progress on this fundamental and important issue. History has a strong bearing on how we understand social and political matters today. Within popular culture, history provides a rich seam of stories for entertainment, both factual and fictional. Fictional versions of history necessarily blur the lines between reality and fantasy. How history is mediated through fiction is the focus of Lisa J. Hackett and Jo Coghlan’s article. Based upon an international survey carried out amongst historical romance authors and readers, it asked if historical accuracy in fiction matters. It finds that there exists a ‘dance of history and fiction’ that posit that our past can be animated by fiction writers and our historians can bring to life our pasts. It is in the intersections of the ‘historical bubble’ and the ‘fiction bubble’ that we can reflect on the past in meaningful ways that inform our social understanding of the past, its people and practices. Disney heroines are some of the most recognisable romantic fiction characters, often inhabiting a world of magic and true love with charming princes and wicked stepmothers. Yet the heroines' and villains' true natures are often revealed through a physical transformation that Amanda Rutherford and Sarah Baker argue is problematic for the often young audiences who watch these films. Despite story lines that promise more progressive iterations of worthiness, a homogenous physical beauty dominates the ‘princess bubble’. For readers, much like those of historical romance novels, such representations can be hegemonic and hide the patriarchal nature of modern society. While bubbles can often represent closed-in worlds, other bubbles are synonymous with exuberance and fun. The next two articles take their inspiration from frothy champagne bubbles. The first by Anna-Mari Almila examines the history of champagne and how its iconic bubbles were both created and came to be an integral symbol of celebration. It notes how champagne makers are often in dialogue with wider popular culture elements in creating and maintaining meanings associated with the drink. Jenny Wise and Lesley McLean turn their attention to the a specific Australian bubbly brand, Treasury Wines, and how it has positioned its 19 Crimes label, which uses the images of Australian convicts on its bottles to create a unique identity. Whilst ostensibly a celebration of Australia’s convict past, the way this brand ‘celebrates’ the sometimes dark crimes of real criminals suggest a socially acceptable romanticisation of Australia’s past. We close this special edition with Greg Melleuish’s thoughtful essay on the fragility of modern society. Just as in the past when we sought permanence in the face of disease and war again we seek stability in the face of pandemics and climate change, even though we know the ‘bubble’ will burst. Humans have a history of attempting to control change. Our ‘plastic nature’ allows us to adapt to the impermanence of life while we yearn for that which is constant and unchanging. We turn to words to find permanence, claiming their meaning as universal, but even meanings are contested and hence transient. Our pragmatic search for stability, even in a period of prosperity and infinite peace, is worthy, but hanging over us is the Hobbesian ‘state of nature’ bubble in which zombies and pandemics threaten our social being. While in part a dire warning for the future, we are reminded that the bubble of modern life is to be cherished.

…love is queered not when we discover it to be resistant to or more than its known forms, but when we see that there is no world that admits how it actually works as a principle of living. Lauren Berlant – “Love, A Queer Feeling” As the sun beats down on a very dusty Musgrave Park, the crowd is hushed in respect for the elder addressing us. It is Pride Fair Day and we are listening to the story of how this place has been a home for queer and black people throughout Brisbane’s history. Like so many others, this park has been a place of refuge in times when Boundary Streets marked the lines aboriginal people couldn’t cross to enter the genteel heart of Brisbane’s commercial district. The street names remain today, and even if movements across territory are somewhat less constrained, a manslaughter trial taking place nearby reminds us of the surveillance aboriginal people still suffer as a result of their refusal to stay off the streets and out of sight in homes they don’t have. In the past few years, Fair Day has grown in size. It now charges an entry fee to fence out unwelcome guests, so that those who normally live here have been effectively uninvited from the party. On this sunny Saturday, we sit and talk about these things, and wonder at the number of spaces still left in this city for spontaneous, non-commercial encounters and alliances. We could hardly have known that in the course of just a few weeks, the distance separating us from others would grow even further. During the course of Brisbane’s month-long Pride celebrations in 2007, two events affected the rights agendas of both queer and black Australians. First, The Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission Report, Same Sex, Same Entitlements, was tabled in parliament. Second, the Federal government decided to declare a state of emergency in remote indigenous communities in the Northern Territory in response to an inquiry on the state of aboriginal child abuse. (The full title of the report is “Ampe Akelyernemane Meke Mekarle”: Little Children are Sacred, and the words are from the Arrandic languages of the Central Desert Region of the Northern Territory. The report’s front cover also explains the title in relation to traditional law of the Yolngu people of Arnhem Land.) While the latter issue has commanded the most media and intellectual attention, and will be discussed later in this piece, the timing of both reports provides an opportunity to consider the varying experiences of two particularly marginalised groups in contemporary Australia. In a period when the Liberal Party has succeeded in pitting minority claims against one another as various manifestations of “special interests” (Brett, Gregg) this essay suggests there is a case to be made for queer and black activists to join forces against wider tendencies that affect both communities. To do this I draw on the work of American critic, Lauren Berlant, who for many years has offered a unique take on debates about citizenship in the United States. Writing from a queer theory perspective, Berlant argues that the conservative political landscape in her country has succeeded in convincing people that “the intimacy of citizenship is something scarce and sacred, private and proper, and only for members of families” (Berlant Queen 2-3). The consequence of this shift is that politics moves from being a conversation conducted in the public sphere about social issues to instead resemble a form of adjudication on the conduct of others in the sphere of private life. In this way, Berlant indicates how heteronormative culture “uses cruel and mundane strategies both to promote change from non-normative populations and to deny them state, federal, and juridical supports because they are deemed morally incompetent to their own citizenship” (Berlant, Queen 19). In relation to the so-called state of emergency in the Northern Territory, coming so soon after attempts to encourage indigenous home-ownership in the same region, the compulsion to promote change from non-normative populations currently affects indigenous Australians in ways that resonate with Berlant’s argument. While her position reacts to an environment where the moral majority has a much firmer hold on the national political spectrum, in Australia these conservative forces have no need to be so eloquent—normativity is already embedded in a particular form of “ordinariness” that is the commonsense basis for public political debate (Allon, Brett and Moran). These issues take on further significance as home-ownership and aspirations towards it have gradually become synonymous with the demonstration of appropriate citizenship under the Coalition government: here, phrases like “an interest rate election” are assumed to encapsulate voter sentiment while “the mortgage belt” has emerged as the demographic most keenly wooed by precariously placed politicians. As Berlant argues elsewhere, the project of normalization that makes heterosexuality hegemonic also entails “material practices that, though not explicitly sexual, are implicated in the hierarchies of property and propriety” that secure heteronormative privilege (Berlant and Warner 548). Inhabitants of remote indigenous communities in Australia are invited to desire and enact normal homes in order to be accepted and rewarded as valuable members of the nation; meanwhile gay and lesbian couples base their claims for recognition on the adequate manifestation of normal homes. In this situation black and queer activists share an interest in elaborating forms of kinship and community that resist the limited varieties of home-building currently sanctioned and celebrated by the State. As such, I will conclude this essay with a model for this alternative process of home-building in the hope of inspiring others. Home Sweet Home Ever since the declaration of terra nullius, white Australia has had a hard time recognising homes it doesn’t consider normal. To the first settlers, indigenous people’s uncultivated land lacked meaning, their seasonal itinerancy challenged established notions of property, while their communal living and wider kinship relations confused nuclear models of procreative responsibility and ancestry. From the homes white people still call “camps” many aboriginal people were moved against their will on to “missions” which even in name invoked the goal of assimilation into mainstream society. So many years later, white people continue to maintain that their version of homemaking is the most superior, the most economically effective, the most functional, with government policy and media commentators both agreeing that “the way out of indigenous disadvantage is home ownership.”(The 1 July broadcast of the esteemed political chat show Insiders provides a representative example of this consensus view among some of the country’s most respected journalists.) In the past few months, low-interest loans have been touted as the surest route out of the shared “squalor” (Weekend Australian, June 30-July1) of communal living and the right path towards economic development in remote aboriginal communities (Karvelas, “New Deal”). As these references suggest, The Australian newspaper has been at the forefront of reporting these government initiatives in a positive light: one story from late May featured a picture of Tiwi Islander Mavis Kerinaiua watering her garden with the pet dog and sporting a Tigers Aussie Rules singlet. The headline, “Home, sweet home, for Mavis” (Wilson) was a striking example of a happy and contented black woman in her own backyard, especially given how regularly mainstream national news coverage of indigenous issues follows a script of failed aboriginal communities. In stories like these, communal land ownership is painted as the cause of dysfunction, and individual homes are crucial to “changing the culture.” Never is it mentioned that communal living arrangements clearly were functional before white settlement, were an intrinsic part of “the culture”; nor is it acknowledged that the option being offered to indigenous people is land that had already been taken away from them in one way or another. That this same land can be given back only on certain conditions—including financially rewarding those who “prove they are doing well” by cultivating their garden in recognisably right ways (Karvelas, “New Deal”)— bolsters Berlant’s claim that government rhetoric succeeds by transforming wider structural questions into matters of individual responsibility. Home ownership is the stunningly selective neoliberal interpretation of “land rights”. The very notion of private property erases the social and cultural underpinnings of communal living as a viable way of life, stigmatising any alternative forms of belonging that might form the basis for another kind of home. Little Children Are Sacred The latest advance in efforts to encourage greater individual responsibility in indigenous communities highlights child abuse as the pivotal consequence of State and Local government inaction. The innocent indigenous child provides the catalyst for a myriad of competing political positions, the most vocal of which welcomes military intervention on behalf of powerless, voiceless kids trapped in horrendous scenarios (Kervalas, “Pearson’s Passion”). In these representations, the potentially abused aboriginal child takes on “supericonicity” in public debate. In her North American context, Berlant uses this concept to explain how the unborn child figures in acrimonious arguments over abortion. The foetus has become the most mobilising image in the US political scene because: it is an image of an American, perhaps the last living American, not yet bruised by history: not yet caught up in the processes of secularisation and centralisation… This national icon is too innocent of knowledge, agency, and accountability and thus has ethical claims on the adult political agents who write laws, make culture, administer resources, control things. (Berlant, Queen 6) In Australia, the indigenous child takes on supericonicity because he or she is too young to formulate a “black armband” view of history, to have a point of view on why their circumstance happens to be so objectionable, to vote out the government that wants to survey and penetrate his or her body. The child’s very lack of agency is used as justification for the military action taken by those who write laws, make the culture that will be recognized as an appropriate performance of indigeneity, administer (at the same time as they cut) essential resources; those who, for the moment, control things. However, and although a government perspective would not recognize this, in Australia the indigenous child is always already bruised by conventional history in the sense that he or she will have trouble accessing the stories of ancestors and therefore the situation that affects his or her entry into the world. Indeed, it is precisely the extent to which the government denies its institutional culpability in inflicting wounds on aboriginal people throughout history that the indigenous child’s supericonicity is now available as a political weapon. Same-Sex: Same Entitlements A situation in which the desire for home ownership is pedagogically enforced while also being economically sanctioned takes on further dimensions when considered next to the fate of other marginalised groups in society—those for whom an appeal for acceptance and equal rights pivots on the basis of successfully performing normal homes. While indigenous Australians are encouraged to aspire for home ownership as the appropriate manifestation of responsible citizenship, the HREOC report represents a group of citizens who crave recognition for already having developed this same aspiration. In the case studies selected for the Same-Sex: Same Entitlements Report, discrimination against same-sex couples is identified in areas such as work and taxation, workers’ compensation, superannuation, social security, veterans’ entitlements and childrearing. It recommends changes to existing laws in these areas to match those that apply to de facto relationships. When launching the report, the commissioner argued that gay people suffer discrimination “simply because of whom they love”, and the report launch quotes a “self-described ‘average suburban family’” who insist “we don’t want special treatment …we just want equality” (HREOC). Such positioning exercises give some insight into Berlant’s statement that “love is a site that has perhaps not yet been queered enough” (Berlant, “Love” 433). A queer response to the report might highlight that by focussing on legal entitlements of the most material kind, little is done to challenge the wider situation in which one’s sexual relationship has the power to determine intimate possessions and decisions—whether this is buying a plane ticket, getting a loan, retiring in some comfort or finding a nice nursing home. An agenda calling for legislative changes to financial entitlement serves to reiterate rather than challenge the extent to which economically sanctioned subjectivities are tied to sexuality and normative models of home-building. A same-sex rights agenda promoting traditional notions of procreative familial attachment (the concerned parents of gay kids cited in the report, the emphasis on the children of gay couples) suggests that this movement for change relies on a heteronormative model—if this is understood as the manner in which the institutions of personal life remain “the privileged institutions of social reproduction, the accumulation and transfer of capital, and self-development” (Berlant and Warner 553). What happens to those who do not seek the same procreative path? Put another way, the same-sex entitlements discourse can be seen to demand “intelligibility” within the hegemonic understanding of love, when love currently stands as the primordial signifier and ultimate suturing device for all forms of safe, reliable and useful citizenly identity (Berlant, “Love”). In its very terminology, same-sex entitlement asks to access the benefits of normativity without challenging the ideological or economic bases for its attachment to particular living arrangements and rewards. The political agenda for same-sex rights taking shape in the Federal arena appears to have chosen its objectives carefully in order to fit existing notions of proper home building and the economic incentives that come with them. While this is understandable in a conservative political environment, a wider agenda for queer activism in and outside the home would acknowledge that safety, security and belonging are universal desires that stretch beyond material acquisitions, financial concerns and procreative activity (however important these things are). It is to the possibilities this perspective might generate that I now turn. One Size Fits Most Urban space is always a host space. The right to the city extends to those who use the city. It is not limited to property owners. (Berlant and Warner, 563) The affective charge and resonance of a concept like home allows an opportunity to consider the intimacies particular to different groups in society, at the same time as it allows contemplation of the kinds of alliances increasingly required to resist neoliberalism’s impact on personal space. On one level, this might entail publicly denouncing representations of indigenous living conditions that describe them as “squalor” as some kind of hygienic short-hand that comes at the expense of advocating infrastructure suited to the very different way of living that aboriginal kinship relations typically require. Further, as alternative cultural understandings of home face ongoing pressure to fit normative ideals, a key project for contemporary queer activism is to archive, document and publicise the varied ways people choose to live at this point in history in defiance of sanctioned arrangements (eg Gorman-Murray 2007). Rights for gay and lesbian couples and parents need not be called for in the name of equality if to do so means reproducing a logic that feeds the worst stereotypes around non-procreating queers. Such a perspective fares poorly for the many literally unproductive citizens, queer and straight alike, whose treacherous refusal to breed banishes them from the respectable suburban politics to which the current government caters. Which takes me back to the park. Later that afternoon on Fair Day, we’ve been entertained by a range of performers, including the best Tina Turner impersonator I’ll ever see. But the highlight is the festival’s special guest, Vanessa Wagner who decides to end her show with a special ceremony. Taking the role of celebrant, Vanessa invites three men on to the stage who she explains are in an ongoing, committed three-way relationship. Looking a little closer, I remember meeting these blokes at a friend’s party last Christmas Eve: I was the only girl in an apartment full of gay men in the midst of some serious partying (and who could blame them, on the eve of an event that holds dubious relevance for their preferred forms of intimacy and celebration?). The wedding takes place in front of an increasingly boisterous crowd that cannot fail to appreciate the gesture as farcically mocking the sacred bastion of gay activism—same-sex marriage. But clearly, the ceremony plays a role in consecrating the obvious desire these men have for each other, in a safe space that feels something like a home. Their relationship might be a long way from many people’s definition of normal, but it clearly operates with care, love and a will for some kind of longevity. For queer subjects, faced with a history of persecution, shame and an unequal share of a pernicious illness, this most banal of possible definitions of home has been a luxury difficult to afford. Understood in this way, queer experience is hard to compare with that of indigenous people: “The queer world is a space of entrances, exits, unsystematised lines of acquaintance, projected horizons, typifying examples, alternate routes, blockages, incommensurate geographies” (Berlant and Warner 558). In many instances, it has “required the development of kinds of intimacy that bear no necessary relation to domestic space, to kinship, to the couple form, to property, or to the nation” (ibid) in liminal and fleeting zones of improvisation like parties, parks and public toilets. In contrast, indigenous Australians’ distinct lines of ancestry, geography, and story continue through generations of kin in spite of the efforts of a colonising power to reproduce others in its own image. But in this sense, what queer and black Australians now share is the fight to live and love in more than one way, with more than one person: to extend relationships of care beyond the procreative imperative and to include land that is beyond the scope of one’s own backyard. Both indigenous and queer Australians stand to benefit from a shared project “to support forms of affective, erotic and personal living that are public in the sense of accessible, available to memory, and sustained through collective activity” (Berlant and Warner 562). To build this history is to generate an archive that is “not simply a repository” but “is also a theory of cultural relevance” (Halberstam 163). A queer politics of home respects and learns from different ways of organising love, care, affinity and responsibility to a community. This essay has been an attempt to document other ways of living that take place in the pockets of one city, to show that homes often exist where others see empty space, and that love regularly survives beyond the confines of the couple. In learning from the history of oppression experienced in the immediate territories I inhabit, I also hope it captures what it means to reckon with the ongoing knowledge of being an uninvited guest in the home of another culture, one which, through shared activism, will continue to survive much longer than this, or any other archive. References Allon, Fiona. “Home as Cultural Translation: John Howard’s Earlwood.” Communal/Plural 5 (1997): 1-25. Berlant, Lauren. The Queen of America Goes to Washington City: Essays on Sex and Citizenship. Durham: Duke University Press, 1997. ———. “Love, A Queer Feeling.” Homosexuality and Psychoanalysis. Eds. Tim Dean and Christopher Lane. Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 2001. 432-51. ———, and Michael Warner. “Sex in Public.” Critical Inquiry 24.2 (1998): 547-566. Brett, Judith. Australian Liberals and the Moral Middle Class: From Alfred Deakin to John Howard. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003. ———, and Anthony Moran. Ordinary People’s Politics: Australians Talk About Politics, Life and the Future of Their Country. Melbourne: Pluto Press, 2006. Gorman-Murray, Andrew. “Contesting Domestic Ideals: Queering the Australian Home.” Australian Geographer 38.2 (2007): 195-213. Gregg, Melissa. “The Importance of Being Ordinary.” International Journal of Cultural Studies 10.1 (2007): 95-104. Halberstam, Judith. In a Queer Time and Place: Transgender Bodies, Subcultural Lives. New York and London: NYU Press, 2005 Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission. Same-Sex: Same Entitlements Report. 2007. 21 Aug. 2007 http://www.hreoc.gov.au/human_rights/samesex/report/index.html>. ———. Launch of Final Report of the Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission’s Same-Sex: Same Entitlements Inquiry (transcript). 2007. 5 July 2007 . Insiders. ABC TV. 1 July 2007. 5 July 2007 http://www.abc.net.au/insiders/content/2007/s1966728.htm>. Karvelas, Patricia. “It’s New Deal or Despair: Pearson.” The Weekend Australian 12-13 May 2007: 7. ———. “How Pearson’s Passion Moved Howard to Act.” The Australian. 23 June 2007. 5 July 2007 http://www.theaustralian.news.com.au/story/0,20867,21952951-5013172,00.html>. Northern Territory Government Inquiry Report into the Protection of Aboriginal Children from Sexual Abuse. Ampe Akelyernemane Meke Mekarle: Little Children Are Sacred. 2007. 5 July 2007 http://www.nt.gov.au/dcm/inquirysaac/pdf/bipacsa_final_report.pdf>. Wilson, Ashleigh. “Home, Sweet Home, for Mavis.” The Weekend Australian 12-13 May 2007: 7. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Gregg, Melissa. "Normal Homes." M/C Journal 10.4 (2007). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0708/02-gregg.php>. APA Style Gregg, M. (Aug. 2007) "Normal Homes," M/C Journal, 10(4). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0708/02-gregg.php>.

As Lewis Carroll’s Alice comes to the end of her journey through the looking glass world, she has also come to the end of her patience with its strange power games and arbitrations. At every stage of the adventure, she has encountered someone who wants to dictate rules and protocols, and a lesson on table manners from the Red Queen finally triggers rebellion. “I can’t stand this any more,” Alice cries, as she seizes the tablecloth and hurls the entire setting into chaos (279). Then, catching hold of the Red Queen, she gives her a good shaking, until the rigid contours of the imperious figure become fuzzy and soft. At this point, the hold of the dream dissolves and Alice, awakening on the other side of the mirror, realises she is shaking the kitten. Queens have long been associated with ideas of transformation. As Alice is duly advised when she first looks out across the chequered landscape of the looking glass world, the rules of chess decree that a pawn may become a queen if she makes it to the other side. The transformation of pawn to queen is in accord with the fairy tale convention of the unspoiled country girl who wins the heart of a prince and is crowned as his bride. This works in a dual register: on one level, it is a story of social elevation, from the lowest to the highest rank; on another, it is a magical transition, as some agent of fortune intervenes to alter the determinations of the social world. But fairy tales also present us with the antithesis and adversary of the fortune-blessed princess, in the figure of the tyrant queen who works magic to shape destiny to her own ends. The Queen and the mirror converge in the cultural imaginary, working transformations that disrupt the order of nature, invert socio-political hierarchies, and flout the laws of destiny. In “Snow White,” the powers of the wicked queen are mediated by the looking glass, which reflects and affirms her own image while also serving as a panopticon, keep the entire realm under surveillance, to pick up any signs of threat to her pre-eminence. All this turbulence in the order of things lets loose a chaotic phantasmagoria that is prime material for film and animation. Two major film versions of “Snow White” have been released in the past few years—Mirror Mirror (2012) and Snow White and the Huntsman (2012)—while Tim Burton’s animated 3D rendition of Alice in Wonderland was released in 2010. Alice through the Looking Glass (2016) and The Huntsman: Winter’s War, the 2016 prequel to Snow White and the Huntsman, continue the experiment with state-of-the-art-techniques in 3D animation and computer-generated imaging to push the visual boundaries of fantasy. Perhaps this escalating extravagance in the creation of fantasy worlds is another manifestation of the ancient lore and law of sorcery: that the magic of transformation always runs out of control, because it disrupts the all-encompassing design of an ordered world. This principle is expressed with poetic succinctness in Ursula Le Guin’s classic story A Wizard of Earthsea, when the Master Changer issues a warning to his most gifted student: But you must not change one thing, one pebble, one grain of sand, until you know what good and evil will follow on that act. The world is in balance, in Equilibrium. A wizard's power of Changing and Summoning can shake the balance of the world. It is dangerous, that power. (48)In Le Guin’s story, transformation is only dangerous if it involves material change; illusions of all kinds are ultimately harmless because they are impermanent.Illusions mediated by the mirror, however, blur the distinction Le Guin is making, for the mirror image supposedly reflects a real world. And it holds the seductive power of a projected narcissism. Seeing what we wish for is an experience that can hold us captive in a way that changes human nature, and so leads to dangerous acts with material consequences. The queen in the mirror becomes the wicked queen because she converts the world into her image, and in traditions of animation going back to Disney’s original Snow White (1937) the mirror is itself an animate being, with a spirit whose own determinations become paramount. Though there are exceptions in the annals of fairy story, powers of transformation are typically dark powers, turbulent and radically elicit. When they are mediated through the agency of the mirror, they are also the powers of narcissism and autocracy. Through a Glass DarklyIn her classic cultural history of the mirror, Sabine Melchior-Bonnet tracks a duality in the traditions of symbolism associated with it. This duality is already evident in Biblical allusions to the mirror, with references to the Bible itself as “the unstained mirror” (Proverbs 7.27) counterpointed by images of the mortal condition as one of seeing “through a glass darkly” (1 Corinthians 13.12).The first of these metaphoric conventions celebrates the crystalline purity of a reflecting surface that reveals the spiritual identity beneath the outward form of the human image. The church fathers drew on Plotinus to evoke “a whole metaphysics of light and reflection in which the visible world is the image of the invisible,” and taught that “humans become mirrors when they cleanse their souls (Melchior-Bonnet 109–10). Against such invocations of the mirror as an intermediary for the radiating presence of the divine in the mortal world, there arises an antithetical narrative, in which it is portrayed as distorting, stained, and clouded, and therefore an instrument of delusion. Narcissus becomes the prototype of the human subject led astray by the image itself, divorced from material reality. What was the mirror if not a trickster? Jean Delumeau poses this question in a preface to Melchior-Bonnet’s book (xi).Through the centuries, as Melchior-Bonnet’s study shows, these two strands are interwoven in the cultural imaginary, sometimes fused, and sometimes torn asunder. With Venetian advances in the techniques and technologies of mirror production in the late Renaissance, the mirror gained special status as a possession of pre-eminent beauty and craftsmanship, a means by which the rich and powerful could reflect back to themselves both the self-image they wanted to see, and the world in the background as a shimmering personal aura. This was an attempt to harness the numinous influence of the divinely radiant mirror in order to enhance the superiority of leading aristocrats. By the mid seventeenth century, the mirror had become an essential accessory to the royal presence. Queen Anne of Austria staged a Queen’s Ball in 1633, in a hall surrounded by mirrors and tapestries. The large, finely polished mirror panels required for this kind of display were made exclusively by craftsmen at Murano, in a process that, with its huge furnaces, its alternating phases of melting and solidifying, its mysterious applications of mercury and silver, seemed to belong to the transformational arts of alchemy. In 1664, Louis XIV began to steal unique craftsmen from Murano and bring them to France, to set up the Royal Glass and Mirror Company whose culminating achievement was the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles.The looking glass world of the palace was an arena in which courtiers and visitors engaged in the high-stakes challenge of self-fashioning. Costume, attitude, and manners were the passport to advancement. To cut a figure at court was to create an identity with national and sometimes international currency. It was through the art of self-fashioning that the many princesses of Europe, and many more young women of title and hereditary distinction, competed for the very few positions as consort to the heir of a royal house. A man might be born to be king, but a woman had to become a queen.So the girl who would be queen looks in the mirror to assess her chances. If her face is her fortune, what might she be? A deep relationship with the mirror may serve to enhance her beauty and enable her to realise her wish, but like all magical agents, the mirror also betrays anyone with the hubris to believe they are in control of it. In the Grimm’s story of “Snow White,” the Queen practises the ancient art of scrying, looking into a reflective surface to conjure images of things distant in time and place. But although the mirror affords her the seer’s visionary capacity to tell what will be, it does not give her the power to control the patterns of destiny. Driven to attempt such control, she must find other magic in order to work the changes she desires, and so she experiments with spells of self-transformation. Here the doubleness of the mirror plays out across every plane of human perception: visual, ethical, metaphysical, psychological. A dynamic of inherent contradiction betrays the figure who tries to engage the mirror as a servant. Disney’s original 1937 cartoon shows the vain Queen brewing an alchemical potion that changes her into the very opposite of all she has sought to become: an ugly, ill-dressed, and impoverished old woman. This is the figure who can win and betray trust from the unspoiled princess to whom the arts of self-fashioning are unknown. In Tarsem Singh’s film Mirror Mirror, the Queen actually has two mirrors. One is a large crystal egg that reflects back a phantasmagoria of palace scenes; the other, installed in a primitive hut on an island across the lake, is a simple looking glass that shows her as she really is. Snow White and the Huntsman portrays the mirror as a golden apparition, cloaked and faceless, that materialises from within the frame to stand before her. This is not her reflection, but with every encounter, she takes on more of its dark energies, until, in another kind of reversal, she becomes its image and agent in the wider world. As Ursula Le Guin’s sage teaches the young magician, magic has its secret economies. You pay for what you get, and the changes wrought will come back at you in ways you would never have foreseen. The practice of scrying inevitably leads the would-be clairvoyant into deeper levels of obscurity, until the whole world turns against the seer in a sequence of manifestations entirely contrary to his or her framework of expectation. Ultimately, the lesson of the mirror is that living in obscurity is a defining aspect of the human condition. Jorge Luis Borges, the blind writer whose work exhibits a life-long obsession with mirrors, surveys a range of interpretations and speculations surrounding the phrase “through a glass darkly,” and quotes this statement from Leon Bloy: “There is no human being on earth capable of declaring with certitude who he is. No one knows what he has come into this world to do . . . or what his real name is, his enduring Name in the register of Light” (212).The mirror will never really tell you who you are. Indeed, its effects may be quite the contrary, as Alice discovers when, within a couple of moves on the looking glass chessboard, she finds herself entering the wood of no names. Throughout her adventures she is repeatedly interrogated about who or what she is, and can give no satisfactory answer. The looking glass has turned her into an estranged creature, as bizarre a species as any of those she encounters in its landscapes.Furies“The furies are at home in the mirror,” wrote R. S. Thomas in his poem “Reflections” (265). They are the human image gone haywire, the frightening other of what we hope to see in our reflection. As the mirror is joined by technologies of the moving image in twentieth-century evolutions of the myth, the furies have been given a new lease of life on the cinema screen. In Disney’s 1937 cartoon of Snow White, the mirror itself has the face of a fury, which emerges from a pool of blackness like a death’s head before bringing the Queen’s own face into focus. As its vision comes into conflict with hers, threatening the dissolution of the world over which she presides, the mirror’s face erupts into fire.Computer-generated imaging enables an expansive response to the challenges of visualisation associated with the original furies of classical mythology. The Erinyes are unstable forms, arising from liquid (blood) to become semi-materialised in human guise, always ready to disintegrate again. They are the original undead, hovering between mortal embodiment and cadaverous decay. Tearing across the landscape as a flock of birds, a swarm of insects, or a mass of storm clouds, they gather into themselves tremendous energies of speed and motion. The 2012 film Snow White and the Huntsman, directed by Rupert Sanders, gives us the strongest contemporary realisation of the archaic fury. Queen Ravenna, played by Charlize Theron, is a virtuoso of the macabre, costumed in a range of metallic exoskeletons and a cloak of raven’s feathers, with a raised collar that forms two great black wings either side of her head. Powers of dematerialisation and rematerialisation are central to her repertoire. She undergoes spectacular metamorphosis into a mass of shrieking birds; from the walls around her she conjures phantom soldiers that splinter into shards of black crystal when struck by enemy swords. As she dies at the foot of the steps leading up to the great golden disc of her mirror, her face rapidly takes on the great age she has disguised by vampiric practices.Helena Bonham Carter as the Red Queen in Burton’s Alice in Wonderland is a figure midway between Disney’s fairy tale spectre and the fully cinematic register of Theron’s Ravenna. Bonham Carter’s Queen, with her accentuated head and pantomime mask of a face, retains the boundaries of form. She also presides over a court whose visual structures express the rigidities of a tyrannical regime. Thus she is no shape-shifter, but energies of the fury are expressed in her voice, which rings out across the presence chamber of the palace and reverberates throughout the kingdom with its calls for blood. Alice through the Looking Glass, James Bobin’s 2016 sequel, puts her at the centre of a vast destructive force field. Alice passes through the mirror to encounter the Lord of Time, whose eternal rule must be broken in order to break the power of the murdering Queen; Alice then opens a door and tumbles in free-fall out into nothingness. The place where she lands is a world not of daydream but of nightmare, where everything will soon be on fire, as the two sides in the chess game advance towards each other for the last battle. This inflation of the Red Queen’s macabre aura and impact is quite contrary to what Lewis Carroll had in mind for his own sequel. In some notes about the stage adaptation of the Alice stories, he makes a painstaking distinction between the characters of the queen in his two stories.I pictured to myself the Queen of Hearts as a sort of embodiment of ungovernable passion—a blind and aimless Fury. The Red Queen I pictured as a Fury, but of another type; her passion must be cold and calm—she must be formal and strict, yet not unkindly; pedantic to the 10th degree, the concentrated essence of governesses. (86)Yet there is clearly a temptation to erase this distinction in dramatisations of Alice’s adventures. Perhaps the Red Queen as a ‘not unkindly’ governess is too restrained a persona for the psychodynamic mythos surrounding the queen in the mirror. The image itself demands more than Carroll wants to accord, and the original Tenniel illustrations give a distinctly sinister look to the stern chess queen. In their very first encounter, the Red Queen contradicts every observation Alice makes, confounds the child’s sensory orientation by inverting the rules of time and motion, and assigns her the role of pawn in the game. Kafka or Orwell would not have been at all relaxed about an authority figure who practises mind control, language management, and identity reassignment. But here Carroll offers a brilliant modernisation of the fairy story tradition. Under the governance of the autocratic queen, wonderland and the looking glass world are places in which the laws of science, logic, and language are overturned, to be replaced by the rules of the queen’s games: cards and croquet in the wonderland, and chess in the looking glass world. Alice, as a well-schooled Victorian child, knows something of these games. She has enough common sense to be aware of how the laws of gravity and time and motion are supposed to work, and if she boasts of being able to believe six impossible things before breakfast, this signifies that she has enough logic to understand the limits of possibility. She would also have been taught about species and varieties and encouraged to make her own collections of natural forms. But the anarchy of the queen’s world extends into the domain of biology: species of all kinds can talk, bodies dissolve or change size, and transmutations occur instantaneously. Thus the world-warping energies of the Erinyes are re-imagined in an absurdist’s challenge to the scientist’s universe and the logician’s mentality.Carroll’s instinct to tame the furies is in accord with the overall tone and milieu of his stories, which are works of quirky charm rather than tales of terror, but his two queens are threatening enough to enable him to build the narrative to a dramatic climax. For film-makers and animators, though, it is the queen who provides the dramatic energy and presence. There is an over-riding temptation to let loose the pandemonium of the original Erinyes, exploiting their visual terror and their classical association with metamorphosis. FashioningThere is some sociological background to the coupling of the queen and the mirror in fairy story. In reality, the mirror might assist an aspiring princess to become queen by enchanting the prince who was heir to the throne, but what was the role of the looking glass once she was crowned? Historically, the self-imaging of the queen has intense and nervous resonances, and these can be traced back to Elizabeth I, whose elaborate persona was fraught with newly interpreted symbolism. Her portraits were her mirrors, and they reflect a figure in whom the qualities of radiance associated with divinity were transferred to the human monarch. Elizabeth developed the art of dressing herself in wearable light. If she lacked for a halo, she made up for it with the extravagant radiata of her ruffs and the wreaths of pearls around her head. Pearls in mediaeval poetry carried the mystique of a luminous microcosm, but they were also mirrors in themselves, each one a miniature reflecting globe. The Ditchely portrait of 1592 shows her standing as a colossus between heaven and earth, with the changing planetary light cycle as background. This is a queen who rules the world through the mediation of her own created image. It is an inevitable step from here to a corresponding intervention in the arrangement of the world at large, which involves the armies and armadas that form the backdrop to her other great portraits. And on the home front, a regime of terror focused on regular public decapitations and other grisly executions completes the strategy to remaking the world according to her will. Renowned costume designer Eiko Ishioka created an aesthetic for Mirror Mirror that combines elements of court fashion from the Elizabethan era and the French ancien régime, with allusions to Versailles. Formality and mannerism are the keynotes for the palace scenes. Julia Roberts as the Queen wears a succession of vast dresses that are in defiance of human scale and proportion. Their width at the hem is twice her height, and 100,000 Svarovski crystals were used for their embellishment. For the masked ball scene, she makes her entry as a scarlet peacock with a high arching ruff of pure white feathers. She amuses herself by arranging her courtiers as pieces on a chess-board. So stiffly attired they can barely move more than a square at a time, and with hats surmounted by precariously balanced ships, they are a mock armada from which the Queen may sink individual vessels on a whim, by ordering a fatal move. Snow White and the Huntsman takes a very different approach to extreme fashioning. Designer Colleen Atwood suggests the shape-shifter in the Queen’s costumes, incorporating materials evoking a range of species: reptile scales, fluorescent beetle wings from Thailand, and miniature bird skulls. There is an obvious homage here to the great fashion designer Alexander McQueen, whose hallmark was a fascination with the organic costuming of creatures in feathers, fur, wool, scales, shells, and fronds. Birds were everywhere in McQueen’s work. His 2006 show Widows of Culloden featured a range of headdresses that made the models look as if they had just walked through a flock of birds in full flight. The creatures were perched on their heads with outstretched wings askance across the models’ faces, obscuring their field of vision. As avatars from the spirit realm, birds are emblems of otherness, and associated with metempsychosis, the transmigration of souls. These resonances give a potent mythological aura to Theron’s Queen of the dark arts.Mirror Mirror and Snow White and the Huntsman accordingly present strikingly contrasted versions of self-fashioning. In Mirror Mirror we have an approach driven by traditions of aristocratic narcissism and courtly persona, in which form is both rigid and extreme. The Queen herself, far from being a shape-shifter, is a prisoner of the massive and rigid architecture that is her costume. Snow White and the Huntsman gives us a more profoundly magical interpretation, where form is radically unstable, infused with strange energies that may at any moment manifest themselves through violent transformation.Atwood was also costume designer for Burton’s Alice in Wonderland, where an invented framing story foregrounds the issue of fashioning as social control. Alice in this version is a young woman, being led by her mother to a garden party where a staged marriage proposal is to take place. Alice, as the social underling in the match, is simply expected to accept the honour. Instead, she escapes the scene and disappears down a rabbit hole to return to the wonderland of her childhood. In a nice comedic touch, her episodes of shrinking and growing involve an embarrassing separation from her clothes, so divesting her also of the demure image of the Victorian maiden. Atwood provides her with a range of fantasy party dresses that express the free spirit of a world that is her refuge from adult conformity.Alice gets to escape the straitjacket of social formation in Carroll’s original stories by overthrowing the queen’s game, and with it her micro-management of image and behaviour. There are other respects, though, in which Alice’s adventures are a form of social and moral fashioning. Her opening reprimand to the kitten includes some telling details about her own propensities. She once frightened a deaf old nurse by shouting suddenly in her ear, “Do let’s pretend that I’m a hungry hyaena and you’re a bone!” (147). Playing kings and queens is one of little Alice’s favourite games, and there is more than a touch of the Red Queen in the way she bosses and manages the kitten. It is easy to laud her impertinence in the face of the tyrannical characters she meets in her fantasies, but does she risk becoming just like them?As a story of moral self-fashioning, Alice through the Looking Glass cuts both ways. It is at once a critique of the Victorian social straitjacket, and a child’s fable about self-improvement. To be accorded the status of queen and with it the freedom of the board is also to be invested with responsibilities. If the human girl is the queen of species, how will she measure up? The published version of the story excludes an episode known to editors as “The Wasp in a Wig,” an encounter that takes place as Alice reaches the last ditch before the square upon which she will be crowned. She is about to jump the stream when she hears a sigh from woods behind her. Someone here is very unhappy, and she reasons with herself about whether there is any point in stopping to help. Once she has made the leap, there will be no going back, but she is reluctant to delay the move, as she is “very anxious to be a Queen” (309). The sigh comes from an aged creature in the shape of a wasp, who is sitting in the cold wind, grumbling to himself. Her kind enquiries are greeted with a succession of waspish retorts, but she persists and does not leave until she has cheered him up. The few minutes devoted “to making the poor old creature comfortable,” she tells herself, have been well spent.Read in isolation, the episode is trite and interferes with the momentum of the story. Carroll abandoned it on the advice of his illustrator John Tenniel, who wrote to say it didn’t interest him in the least (297). There is interest of another kind in Carroll’s instinct to arrest Alice’s momentum at that critical stage, with what amounts to a small morality tale, but Tenniel’s instinct was surely right. The mirror as a social object is surrounded by traditions of self-fashioning that are governed by various modes of conformity: moral, aesthetic, political. Traditions of myth and fantasy allow wider imaginative scope for the role of the mirror, and by association, for inventive speculation about human transformation in a world prone to extraordinary upheavals. ReferencesBorges, Jorge Luis. “Mirrors of Enigma.” Labyrinths: Selected Stories and Other Writings. Eds. Donald A. Yates and James Irby. New York: New Directions, 2007. 209–12. Carroll, Lewis. Alice through the Looking Glass. In The Annotated Alice. Ed. Martin Gardner. London: Penguin, 2000.The King James Bible.Le Guin, Ursula. The Earthsea Quartet. London: Penguin, 2012.Melchior-Bonnet, Sabine. The Mirror: A History. Trans. Katherine H. Jewett. London: Routledge, 2014.Thomas, R.S. “Reflections.” No Truce with the Furies, Collected Later Poems 1988–2000. Hexham, Northumberland: Bloodaxe, 2011.