Journal articles on the topic 'Sleeping customs Cross-cultural studies'

IntroductionSocial rituals refer to routine and expected social activities that are practiced in all communities in a culturally recognized manner (e.g., social greetings, eating customs, attention to dress, sleeping rituals etc.). Persistent departures from or disregard of these social rituals may be an early or prodromal sign of the onset of mental illness.Objectives(1) To develop and evaluate psychometric properties of a measure of social rituals entitled, Social Rituals Schedule (SRS); (2) to evaluate the reliability and cross-cultural applicability of this measure.MethodsThe SRS was administered to 30 psychiatric patients and their nominated relative/friend. The cross-cultural evaluations were conducted using focus groups of Ethiopian (n = 30), Australian Indigenous (n = 100), Iranian (n = 22), and Indian (n = 50) participants.ResultsThe SRS demonstrated moderate to high inter-rater reliability and patient-informant concordance. The social ritual domains were found to be valid, well understood and applicable across the sampled cultures [1].ConclusionsThe concept of social rituals and the SRS instrument were demonstrated to be feasible, reliable and cross-culturally applicable tools for measuring changes in people's appearance and behavior that might be indicative of emerging mental illness.Disclosure of interestThe authors have not supplied their declaration of competing interest.

This paper examines the generalizability of participatory ergonomics to different cultures. Studies using participatory strategies to introduce ergonomic solutions are reviewed across three distinct cultures. The results lead us to believe that these effects are sufficiently robust and not culture or method bound. Four lessons can be learned from these participatory interventions: 1) Interventions should build on local customs; 2) Solutions should be practical and understandable to the participating end-users; 3) Culture should be used as a resource for solving design and cross-cultural problems; and 4) Synergy between the culture and the intervention will enhance the success and magnify problems of the intervention.

Recent studies have shown that sleep is influenced and shaped by cultural factors, including cultural values, beliefs and practices. However, a systematic understanding of how cultural factors in countries may influence sleep duration and sleep disturbances is still lacking. Therefore, we focused on a comparison of sleep duration and disturbances in young populations between countries. We report cross-cultural differences between the child, parent and environmental factors, and their association with sleep duration and disturbances. The review is based on literature searches of seven databases published until December 2020. Studies were included if they investigated sleep duration and disturbances of individuals up to 18 years across at least two or more countries. The results of this review have shown that sleep duration and disturbances vary between countries and regions and certain factors (e.g., bedtime routines, sleeping arrangement, physical activity and psychological functioning) have been associated with sleep duration or disturbances. This review also demonstrates that certain factors which were associated with sleep duration or disturbances in one country, were not shown in other countries, suggesting a need for recommendations for age-related sleep duration and sleep interventions to consider cultural differences that influence sleep duration or disturbances in individual countries or regions.

Spatial distribution, cultural system and characteristics, constitution of ethno-cultural tourism resources of global Kazakh ethnics was examined in this study, as well as spatial distribution of transnational ethno-cultural tourism resources, and development state and existing problems of Kazakh ethno-cultural domestic and international tourism. Based on the analysis above, ten development patterns of Kazakh ethno-cultural tourism were raised up, including ethnic village, ethnic cultural museum, primitive ethnical village, conformity of relics, conformity and improvement, renew of old fashion and customs, new rural construction, special town construction, ethnic cultural recreational-business district (RBD) and ethnic cultural thematic parks. Further, reasonable regional functions and spatial development pattern of Kazakh ethnic cultural tourism in Xinjiang were discussed, providing foundations for new theories and studies of the industrial development of ethnic cultural tourism in Xinjiang.

There is hardly a country in this industrialized world today, where one can find an ethnically homogenous population. The aftermath of colonialism, the creation of refugees- often the result of ethnic conflicts- and the movement of people in search of greater economic, political or social opportunities have contributed to the worldwide mix of people. Canada and India are the countries affected by the growing diversity. However this diversity has different facets in both the countries. In the literary world Canada, Multiculturalism is the main theme of writing and in India, presentation of cultural diversity is yet at the beginning stage. This statement has to be tasted on the fictional works of Margaret Atwood from Canada and Bharati Mukherjee from India. Both the writers are very unique in their writing and have trodden the different ways of using Cultural-diversity. Culture is an integral part of a human society and its nation. Then the question arises: what is culture? The Oxford English Dictionary defines culture as a “particular form or type of intellectual development in a society generated by its distinctive customs, achievements and outlook.” At the wide canvass, culture is taken as consolidating the way of life of an entire society and includes codes of manners, dress, language, rituals, social customs and folklore of a nation. Every country has a typical and distinctive culture of its own. However, when an independent country becomes a colony, the native culture goes under a change. This is the case with the countries like Kenya, Nigeria and India. When these countries came in contact with western culture, a process of change in culture was initiated, and this journey made the traditional culture of respective countries destroyed. While Indian literature had cross cultural encounters with the English studies, Canada has been undergoing a cultural metamorphosis with the mix of second races and people from all over the world.

Many indigenous African religions, specifically that of the Yoruba of Nigeria, the Bamana and Malinke of Mali, and the Nuer of southern Sudan, are characterized by a system of spiritual beliefs surrounding the life and death of twins. Separation by death poses an extreme threat to the soul(s) of twins, and many rituals and customs designed to sustain the spirit of surviving twins are widely practiced. Despite twin loss being overlooked in Western psychological studies of grief, recent research and in-depth interviews of bereaved twins clearly identifies the unique nature of losing a twin, and the importance of acknowledging this distinction in the surviving twin's ability to cope with the death. The spiritual practices of the Yoruba, Bamana, Malinke, and Nuer are conducive to dealing with the specific nature of twin loss. They take into account the uniqueness of the twinship experience, and provide material for reflection on healing approaches outside the traditional parameters of psychology.

Les Chamanes de la Préhistoire: Transe et Magie dans les Grottes Ornées, by Jean Clottes & David Lewis-Williams, 1996. Paris: Éditions Seuil; ISBN 2-02-028902-4 hardback 249FF, 110 pp., 114 colour ills.The Shamans of Prehistory: Trance and Magic in the Painted Caves, by Jean Clottes & David Lewis-Williams, 1996. New York (NY): Harry N. Abrams; ISBN 0-8109-4182-1 hardback, US$49.50, 120 pp., 116 colour ills.Jean Clottes and David Lewis-Williams' recent book Les Chamanes de la Préhistoire builds on a body of rock art research which has come to dominate the field, marginalizing interest in other cultural themes such as totemism and records of everyday foraging. Shamanism and totemism are, however, two of the most pervasive indigenous theories of being to have been discussed in the anthropological literature. The word totem comes from the Ojibwa, a native North American people, while the word shaman comes from the Tungus of central Siberia. Their use cross-culturally to refer to types of religion (i.e. shamanism and totemism), is an artefact of anthropology. Shamanism can be applied to customs that are inferred to have arisen independently in different parts of the world; customs in a single circum-arctic culture area; or scattered survivals from an allegedly original human condition. The cross-cultural validity of shamanism has been considered by Eliade, Lewis, Hultkrantz and Vitebsky. Shamanism refers to the use of spirits as guardians and helpers of individuals, contacted through trance. The validity of totemism as a cross-culturally-valid category has been vigorously debated in anthropology. It is generally agreed to refer to the use of animals or plants as emblems or guardians of social groups celebrated in ritual. The rationale of totemism is that each group is identified with a different species; the significance of each species derives from its place in the cognitive structure. Group A is kangaroo because it is not emu or python. While Durkheim interpreted totemism as the original human religion, Lévi-Strauss persuasively argued that totemism is a product of human cognition, which has developed independently in North America, Australia and Africa.

Since the Customs Union came into effect on 1 January 1996, Turkey has effectively become part of the European Union's single market. This high degree of economic integration has not been matched in the sphere of political and social integration. Turkey was omitted from a list of countries with which accession negotiations began in March 1998, and the Cardiff European Council of May 1998 confirmed Turkey's marginalization from the current process of enlargement.

Purpose Cross-cultural research constitutes a pivotal topic for marketing; however, the literature indicates that there are a few studies analyzing social media reviews from a cross-cultural perspective using cultural proximity (supra-national level) as a proxy of culture. Therefore, the purpose of this study is to identify cross-cultural differences in service evaluations and specifically, in hotel appraisals among tourists from Central, Eastern (including Post-Soviet States), Northern and Southern Europe. Design/methodology/approach A quantitative approach has been taken by studying online user-generated ratings of hotels on Trip Advisor. In total, 1,055 reviews of five hotels in Greece were used for the study. Findings Multivariate analysis of variance and analysis of variances results confirm cultural differences in overall service evaluations and attributes (value, location, sleeping quality, rooms, cleanliness and service) of tourists from various European regions. Specifically, Eastern Europeans uploaded more reviews than any other European group, whereas Northern Europeans were more generous in their appraisals than Eastern, Southern and Central Europeans. Practical implications The results of the study could be used for segmentation purposes of the European tourism market and for recognizing, which aspects of their services need to be improved based on the segments they serve. Moreover, managers should encourage Northern and Eastern Europeans to upload their reviews as both groups are more generous in their evaluations. Moreover, the findings are useful to marketers of other services. Originality/value To the author’s knowledge, this is the first study that examines cross-cultural differences in hotel appraisals from a supra-national perspective including developed (Northern and Western Europe), developing (Southern Europe) and emerging tourism markets (Eastern Europe).

Objective: To estimate the prevalence, frequency and time of nocturnal enuresis (NE) among primary schoolchildren in Sana’a city, Yemen. Methods: This was a cross-sectional study was conducted among 2689 schoolchildren in the primary schools of four randomly selected districts in Sana’a city in the period from September 2012 to December 2013. Data about sociodemographic characteristics, frequency, time, psycho-social effects and the factors possibly associated with NE among children were collected using a pre-designed questionnaire and analyzed using appropriate statistical tests. Results: The overall prevalence of NE was 11.2%, which was significantly higher among males than females (13.0% vs. 10.0%, respectively; P = 0.044) and decreased significantly with increasing age (P <0.001). More than half of children (55.3%) in Sana’a city had the habits of drinking excess fluids and tea at night and/or deep sleeping. Of physical and health disorders, difficulty in breathing and urinary tract infections were the two most frequent conditions among children with NE, being observed among 29.6% and 23.9% of cases, respectively. However, urogenital anomalies and mental retardation were the least frequent conditions in children with NE, being observed among 5.8% and 1.3% of cases, respectively. On the other hand, marital problems (24.8%) and arrival of a new baby (17.9%) were the most frequently observed social conditions among children with NE, while death in the family (8.5%) and parental separation (6.0%) were the least frequently observed conditions. Conclusions: NE is prevalent among 11.2% of schoolchildren in Sana’a city with a significantly higher, though slight, rate among males. This rate is lower than the rates reported from Aden and Mukalla cities in the country and from Saudi Arabia and Turkey. However, it is higher than those reported from Iran and Malaysia. About a third of children experience nightly NE, whereas the lowest proportion of children experience NE twice a month. The habits of drinking excess fluid and tea at night and/or deep sleeping, the disorders of difficulty in breathing and urinary tract infections and the social conditions of marital problems and arrival of a new baby are the most frequent observations among children with NE in Sana’a city.

The family traditions of the Old Believers are inextricably linked with church customs, which contributes to the preservation of morality, spiritual health and the viability of the community. In the pre-wedding period, young men and girls, naturally, sought to communicate, to get to know each other better, to pick up a mate, and for this there were various pretexts and methods (parties “vecherinki”, entertainment for the Easter holidays, when they hung a swing, etc.). In urban areas, they also met in the church. The article presents the traditional features of matchmaking (there were no special matchmakers, if the bride agreed, she gave a pledge – an embroidered scarf, etc.) and wedding (putting a “kichka” on the bride and breaking the glass from which the bride and groom drank, etc.) among the Old Believers of Moldova. A lot has changed and simplified over the past few decades. Some of the traditions have been preserved, but often in a different form. The departure from wedding rituals “in the old way” accelerated starting from the 70s and 80s. The article highlights the difficulties associated with the existence of a ban on creating a family with relatives “by blood” or “by cross” up to the seventh generation. As a result, marriages with people of a different nationality have ceased to be rare (however, they must accept the Old Believer faith).

Introduction. The relevance of the study of cross-cultural marriages in Russia and Iran is due to the fact that Russia and Iran are characterized by both attention to the observance of cultural needs and the desire for innovative development. These contradictory manifestations are also manifested in family and marriage relations. There is a shortage of empirical studies that reflect the range of opinions of various social strata in Russia and Iran, allowing a comparative analysis of attitudes towards cross-cultural marriages to determine the prospects for state policy to support the institution of marriage in a cross-cultural environment. The purpose of the public research is to analyze the relationship with cross-cultural marriages in Russia and Iran against the background of the proposed family model. Materials and Methods. Sociological research is carried out by the method of a quantitative survey. 153 people were interviewed in total, urban residents of Russia and Iran aged 18 to 60 who are in cross-cultural marriages or an interethnic, interfaith environment. To analyze the results, descriptive statistics methods, frequency distributions, and a tabular data visualization method were used. Results. The survey results have revealed the presence of different ideas about the desired model of family and marriage both in Iran and Russia (both traditional and modern). The study has revealed a friendly attitude towards interethnic marriages in both countries (primarily for urban residents). In many ways, the success of cross-cultural marriages is determined by the attitude of relatives and the local community towards them. Discussion and Conclusion. The results obtained can be used to develop strategies for the development of socio-cultural interaction between Russia and Iran. It is essential to consider the study’s conclusions when supporting cross-cultural families in the process of adaptation and acquaintance with the norms, traditions, and customs of a new culture spouse. It is necessary to conduct a study on a more representative sample to assess the differentiation and determinants of people’s opinions in interethnic marriages living in Iran and Russia.

The article deals with the problem of cross-cultural analysis of the features of the Provence daily routine on the material of the novel "A Year in Provence" by P. Mayle. In modern literary discourse there is no clear and unambiguous definition of the concept of everyday life, so this problem is relevant to modern literary criticism. The peculiarities of perception of foreign everyday life are not only the sphere of intercultural communication, but also an interesting object of literary studies. The national comparative literature studies have shown the growing interest to the problem of investigating the features of literary interpretation of mentality and everyday practices in works of foreign literature, involving the methodology of cross-cultural analysis only in the last decade. In his novel "A Year in Provence", P. Mayle creates a unique combination of a travel novel and a description of the Provence life through the interpretation of an emigrant who came there from England. The peculiarities of the daily routine of the locals contrast sharply with the cultures of the tourists who visit it. The cultural differences that are revealed in the everyday things of the characters vividly demonstrate specific features of their mentality and their national worldview. An interesting depiction and constant commentary on traditional daily activities, food preferences, attitudes to time, work and people in comparison with the customs of other cultures allows the reader to form an unbiased attitude to the lifestyle of not only the French but also the English, Germans, Swiss and other nation representatives. The author draws attention to the strengths and weaknesses of the life of the Provence people. He also remains objective in presenting comparative characteristics of different spheres of life of the French and other cultures.

Latvian folksongs of three types (LD 33802, 34043, 34047) and a Lithuanian song Aušrinė (‘the Morning Star’) published by Liudvikas Rėza (Ludwig Rhesa, RD I 62) depict a tree struck by the Thunderer (Latvian Perkons). The kind of the tree may vary: usually, it is an oak, but sometimes it may be an apple-tree. Researchers of Latvian mythology and folklore call it Saules koks (‘the tree of the Sun’). In different variants, the striking of the tree tends to be part of the plot of the heavenly wedding. Sometimes Perkons allegedly strikes the tree in order to express his objections regarding the Sun’s decision to marry off her daughter to an “unsuitable” groom.Scholars interpret this image of the thunderstruck tree in different ways. Wilhelm Mannhardt thought the image to have stemmed from a natural phenomenon – the rays of the setting Sun. Vyacheslav Ivanov and Vladimir Toporov attributed this motive to the symbol of the World Tree and the Indo-European “basic myth” that they had reconstructed. According to Pranė Dundulienė, the thunderstruck oak is a symbolic representation of the bridegroom. Having amassed considerable ethnographic and folklore data, the author of this article questions the earlier explanation presented by Leopold von Schröder and Haralds Biezais. According to them, the motive of Perkons striking the oak may stem from the traditional Latvian wedding custom: the bride’s coachman makes a sign of the cross on the gate or the door with his sword upon arrival, imitating the cutting. Our analysis employs the comparative method. The appreciation of this motive requires considering the connections between the Thunderer and the oaks that exist in numerous ancient Indo-European religions (including Greek, Roman, Celtic, and Baltic). The lightning strike to the oak, possibly, only added some extra meaning to this connection (the thunderstruck wood was used for magic purposes), which emphasized power and strength attributed both to the thunder and the oak. The plausibility of relating the powerful celestial oak to the sacred tree of the homestead would require further discussions. Some variants of the mythological folksongs suggest that the oak hit by Perkons must have been growing by the gate. However, in folksongs and customs, this particular location emerges as liminal and unsafe in relation to home.Although Biezais used the Latvian example, similar customs of imitated cutting of the gate, door, or beam are also widespread in the Eastern Slavic lands. This enables us to understand better their nature, variations, and possible origins. Currently, we can use more ample Latvian and Lithuanian data. In wedding customs, actions similar to cutting or striking mostly indicate the active or masculine principle, including clashing between the bride’s and the groom’s parties, and invading of the foreign territory; but generally are characteristic of both sides. The fierce and militant character of Perkons is especially evident in this liminal sphere; there, as wedding customs and songs clearly indicate, also the hardest clash between the opposing parties takes place at some stage of the wedding. Although this clash is most prominent at the beginning of the wedding ceremony (during matchmaking, and particularly when representatives of the groom arrive to take the bride to her new home), certain “active response” is also evident in the way that the bride’s party behaves at the gate or door of the groom’s house. This may also include new elements, such as threatening to break the table with a specific musical instrument. Taunting of the wedding parties while using similar images and formulas to those used by folksongs describing animals enable us to see more clearly some peculiarities of the Thunderer’s image apparent in the songs describing the heavenly wedding (his attribution to the bride’s party and unexpectedly destructive character). The selected folklore and customs serve to considerably widen and deepen the possibilities of discussing the hypothesis raised by von Schröder and Biezais. However, this does not solve the main issues inherent in the substantiation of this hypothesis – e. g., it contradicts the authentic storylines of the songs describing the heavenly wedding; objects that are cut differ as well, while the consequences of the action – the destruction of the oak – do not ground its possible ritual purpose. The use of the sign of the cross is also ambivalent in customs, since it can serve both as means of protection against the adversary of the Thunderer – the devil, and against the thunder itself.However, the collected comparative materials provide a better idea regarding the meaning of this mythic thunder strike in the wedding contexts, elucidating certain regularities and inconsistencies.

Abstract Malaysia’s Malay-Muslim majority adheres to heteronormative forms of sexuality that recognise marriage as the only means of securing access to lawful sexual intimacy. Islam, Malay customs (adat), and the Malaysian state impose strict sanctions on pre- and extramarital intimacy in its Syariah criminal laws. A Vice Prevention Unit responsible for moral policing is legally authorised to arrest couples who violate Islamic rules of behaviour, including sexual offences such as khalwat (illicit proximity)—a crime of passion punishable by a fine and/or imprisonment. This article compares two khalwat trials in Kota Bharu and Kuala Lumpur’s Syariah court to illustrate what Peletz (2002) calls the judges’ “cultural logic of judicial reasoning”. In these trials, Syariah judges extend beyond a narrowed focus on gender to also consider cultural understandings of age, profession, family circumstances, and marital status, thus reproducing Malay adat understandings of intimacy, marriage, and personhood. In an effort to steer young couples away from forbidden sexual temptations, the Malaysian state liberalises access to marriage by recognising cross-border marriages contracted in Southern Thailand, offering financial incentives to young couples intending to marry and defending existing legal provisions allowing the marriage of minors. The Malaysian state’s mix of punitive, preventative, and pro-marriage policies, I suggest, are various ways of surveilling sexuality by bringing uncontrolled desires under the purview of matrimony, where it may find its lawful expression.

Introduction: Children’s sleep habits are profoundly affected by socio-economic, cultural, and environmental factors. We aim to describe the sleep habits of pediatric sub-populations from Cape Verde and Mozambique using the Children’s Sleep Habits Questionnaire, and to ascertain the determinants of the questionnaire’s score.Material and Methods: We conducted cross-sectional surveys in surveillance appointments in Cape Verde and in a school in Maputo (Mozambique). The Cape Verde sample included 206 children (mean age: 6.5) and the Mozambique sample 454 children (mean age: 8). The Portuguese version of the Children’s Sleep Habits Questionnaire was used to evaluate the children’s sleep habits. The distributions of the questionnaire’s scores across different levels of the demographic variables were compared using the Mann-Whitney and the Kruskal-Wallis tests. We used regression models to quantify the relationship between the demographic variables and the questionnaire’s scores.Results: Cape Verde sample: Questionnaire median score: 50 (range 36 – 81). Prevalence of sleep problems: 29.9% (cut-off = 56). Prevalence of parent-reported sleep problems: 22.8%. Co-sleeping: 63%. Bedtime television: 30%. Daytime nap: 63%. Questionnaire scores are associated with the mother’s educational level, the children’s age group, and with the frequency of daytime napping. Mozambique Sample: Median Questionnaire score: 48 (range 35 – 77). Prevalence of sleep problems: 28.4% (cut-off: 52). Percentage of parent-reported sleep problems: 6.9%. Co-sleeping: 29%. Bedtime television: 33%. Daytime nap: 23%. Questionnaire scores are associated with the mother’s nationality, the father educational level, and with the frequency of bedtime television.Discussion: Parents tend to overestimate the quality of their children’s sleep. The prevalence of sleep disturbances and the cut-off values are higher than observed in previous studies, which may be due to the existence of different standards and cultural expectations across populations. Bedtime television, typically associated with more disturbed sleep, is frequent in both samples. Co-sleeping and daytime napping are frequent in the Cape Verde sample; wetting the bed is common and more prevalent than in previous studies. Bed-sharing increases the parents’ awareness of their children’s sleep quality, contributing to the high prevalence of parent-reported sleep problems.Conclusion: Parent-reported sleep problems underestimate the Children’s Sleep Habits Questionnaire results. This is not necessarily indicative of more disturbed sleep and might reflect differences in sleep behavior, childcare practice, and cognitions and attitudes towards the concept of ‘normal’ sleep.

Purpose – The purpose of this paper is to study ethics, values and cross-cultural differences in China, Mexico or the United States. Three distinct and unique nations, the USA, Mexico and China, have different political structures, historical backgrounds and economical systems. While each of these nations can be considered an integral part to the world economy, each nation has their own distinct ethics, values and culture which serve as the backbone of the particular region. To be successful in international business, knowledgeable as an expatriate and culturally or ethically aware of key nations in the global market, individuals need to have researched information pertaining to the ethics, cultures and values of the USA, Mexico or China to blend in and succeed with the foreign cultural environment. Design/methodology/approach – This research paper will focus extensively on the impact values, ethics and cultural differences (based majorly and solely on the Rokeach Values Survey, Forsyth Studies and Hofsteade’s Model) have on the societies of the USA, Mexico or China. A review of the empirical studies will demonstrate the importance values, ethics and culture have on individual life or business environment for the USA, Mexico or China. Findings – Culture can be a factor which heavily influences a region or nation’s ethics and values. Research limitations/implications – When discussing culture, there are many factors such as values, religion, societal norms, customs, beliefs or deeply rooted faiths which can impact a nation’s overall collective culture. As a result, cross-cultural differences among a variety of nations, countries, regions or sub-regions may vary when compared with one another. Through more empirical investigation, research or study of a nation’s cultural values may there be a more profound, detailed and legitimate basis for assessing a nation’s ethical constructs. Practical implications – Understanding the differences of ethics, values and culture of the USA, China or Mexico can impact an individual’s experience if serving as an expatriate at the particular location. Each nation has its own distinct and unique social, business and cultural environment. To successfully accomplish international business or to operate a multinational corporation in a global market, individuals need to have a prior understanding of varying cultures, ethical standards or values in a particular region. Originality/value – This research paper will present and deliver pertinent information to individuals interested in serving as an expatriate in the USA, China or Mexico. Individuals can also read this paper to understand, comprehend or consume more general knowledge of the ethics, values and culture of the researched locations.

International trade has traditionally played an essential role in driving women-centric economic empowerment. Women’s participation as owners or managers has remained consistently low over the years. In India's case, a previous study conducted by UNDP revealed that women entrepreneurs preferred engaging in informal cross-border business as it was less risky with no tax burdens and their discomfort in dealing with male customs officials (UNDP, 2016). One of the critical limitations of active business engagement is socio-economic and cultural restriction, especially at the grassroots level. The case in Arunachal Pradesh is no different, as the concept of entrepreneurship of women in this field is a relatively recent phenomenon. In Arunachal Pradesh, the market is mainly controlled by women, yet women's participation in small and medium enterprises is less in number. In this context, the current paper discusses the nature of women entrepreneurs’ role in Micro, Small, and Medium Enterprises (MSMEs) and cross-border trade. It unveils the challenges faced by women entrepreneurs in Arunachal Pradesh and along with industrial and policy-related bottlenecks. The discussion is based on the primary data collected from the women-led/managed/owned MSMEs to study the gender dimensions of trade in Arunachal Pradesh. The findings of the study are that women entrepreneurship primarily gravitates around smaller-sized firms, with most women-led enterprises accounting for micro-enterprises in the formal sector. Like elsewhere in Arunachal Pradesh too, there remain socio-economic and cultural restrictions, especially at the grassroots level. Women lag in terms of awareness about import and export, technology, and dedicated bank accounts. Submitted: 16 October 2020; Revised: 18 March 2021; Accepted: 08 April 2021

We analyze a variety of digital trade agreements with a view to exploring a useful guidance to clarify and improve the agreements. After examining the key features of the agreements, we compare them in two aspects, market access and policy cooperation. While the market access issues include the cross-border transfer of information by electronic means, the location of computing facilities, no imposition of customs duties on electronic transmissions and the express shipments, the policy cooperation issues do cooperation on standard and conformity assessment for digital trade, FinTech cooperation, and competition policy cooperation. Next, after evaluating the digital trade agreements, we find the need for reasonable definitions of critical terms such as digital trade and digital service. Also we suggest how to clarify and improve the scope of digital product and their relationship with the relevant WTO agreements, primarily GATS. Finally, we conclude with future issues such as the role of APEC, the interconnection between digital trade and trade in services, Korea’s strategies for future digital trade agreements, and the multilateral negotiations on digital trade at several international organizations such as WTO and OECD.

This paper is an attempt at the refutation of certain fallacies, which have gained a wide currency in legal and criminological thinking. These fallacies are the following. First, the mistaken interpretation of universal statements such as “Any person condemns murder” as the expression of a cross-cultural consensus about the blameworthiness of a certain type of behaviour; such statements, it is argued, are mere tautologies reflecting the cogency of our linguistic customs. Second, the erroneous belief that criminology can dogmatically account for the sum of the facts which appertain to its field of study, by means of a single, all-encompassing explanation; arguments are given to show that the fate of criminological studies is fragmentation. Third, it is argued that the criminal justice system should be conceived as an apparatus for social provocation rather than as institutionalized social reaction. Fourth, it is pointed out that we must draw an unambiguous distinction between the legal notion of a sentence and the intuitive notion of punishment; stressing this difference leads the author to compare briefly the main tenets of what he respectively calls dogmatic and sceptical criminology. Finally, the necessity to recognize as separate issues the justification and the allocation of criminal sanctions is proven and it is shown how the penal fascination with capital punishment is responsible for blurring the distinction between these issues.

PurposeCOVID-19, an infectious disease first identified in China, has resulted in an ongoing pandemic all over the world. Most of the countries have been experiencing a difficult period during the fighting of this pandemic. The purpose of this study is to explore the effect of privacy concerns and cultural differences on public opinion related to the pandemic. The authors conducted a comparative analysis of public opinion in the US and in China as a case study, in order to determine the results.Design/methodology/approachNational policies on important issues faced during the COVID-19 pandemic in the US and in China were examined through a comparative analysis. The authors used text clustering and visualization to mine public opinion on two popular social media platforms, Twitter and Weibo. From the perspectives of concern for privacy and of national culture, this study combines qualitative and quantitative analysis to discover the acceptance level of national policies by the public in the two countries.FindingsThe anti-pandemic policies and measures of the US and China reflect the different characteristics of their respective political systems and national cultures. When considering the culture of the US, it is hard to establish and enforce a rigorous regulation on either mask wearing in public or home quarantine on the national level. The opinions of US people are diverse, regarding national COVID-19 policies, but they are rather unified on privacy issues. On the other hand, Chinese people show a high acceptance of national policies based on their mask-wearing customs and their culture of collectivism.Originality/valuePrior studies have paid insufficient attention to the ways in which user privacy and cultural difference affect public opinion on national policies between the US and China. This case study that compares public opinion on current and topical issues which are closely bound up with public life shows originality, as it innovatively provides a cross-cultural perspective on the research of public opinion dissemination during emergencies by considering the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic.

Although the term “ethnic group” (EG) is often used in social studies, its definition differs among researchers. Moreover, little is known about ordinary people’s subjective understanding of this term, even though it is often used in social discourse. We examined this issue in a cross-sectional study of 273 American, British, Mexican, and Polish students using an open-ended questions approach. Results revealed cultural differences in patterns of “ethnic group” definitions across the four countries. U.S. respondents predominantly connected EG to “race”; British participants frequently related it to “race,” but more often to “common culture” and “customs/traditions.” Both latter categories were overwhelmingly dominant in Mexico and Poland. However, “nation,” “shared history,” “religion,” “language,” and “territory” were also very popular as EG understandings in Poland. Although most participants used the newer definition of EG (referring to all groups in a society, including minority and majority groups), a few in each country used the term only to refer to minorities and people different from themselves (an older, “minus one” definition). Unexpected definitions of EG also appeared (e.g., people having similar hobbies, having similar work goals, or living in the same city). The results also indicate that for the United States, the United Kingdom, and Mexico, “ethnic group” was more a subgroup within a nation, whereas in Poland, they represented the same level of categorization. The theoretical and practical implications of our findings are discussed.

The cross-cultural researches are becoming more relevant in the last decades. Due to these studies, scientists restore fragments of the linguistic picture of the world of particular nation, learn about rich historical heritage and customs of any nation, reveal its originality, define universal traits for cultures of different peoples and the peculiarities of different languages. The article is devoted to the complex research of phraseological units in the Ukrainian, Russian, English and Spanish languages. Interlinguistic relations are based on the structural and semantic aspects and it promotes identification of cultural peculiarities of phraseological units in these languages. Рhraseology is an integral and the richest part of any language. Studying materials were the Ukrainian, Russian, English and Spanish phraseological units related to the thematic group “work-idleness”. Equivalents of such phraseological units were analysed, as well as the sources of these equivalents, their types and methods of correct translation. The aim of the study is to identify national peculiarities in perception and verbal realization of one of the basic concepts, the “work-idleness” concept. It is achieved by comparing the Ukrainian with Russian, English and Spanish phraseological units. Full equivalents confirm the universality of this concept in Ukrainian, Russian, English and Spanish linguistic cultures. The article presents the comparative analysis of idioms with semantics of “work” — “inactivity, idleness, waste of time”; traced the basic models of idioms formation in different nations in various languages: Ukrainian, Russian, English and Spanish languages. It provides a new scientific in-depth approach to the solution of one of the most complex problems of comparative study of the phraseological material of different languages on the semantic level. Analysing the examples of phraseological units in different languages, the author comes to a conclusion that semantic, pragmatic, syntactic, national and cultural factors play a considerable role in the process of translation. These factors should be taken into account while translating idioms. So, the article deals with two concepts “work”, “idleness”. The subject of the research determines the application of the comparative method while investigating these two concepts in Ukrainian as well as in Russian, English and Spanish languages. The results of the present work can be applied in the sphere of such contiguous disciplines as intercultural communication, linguistics, translation theory and practice, studying English, Russian or Spanish by Ukrainian speaking students, as well as in writing test books and other teaching material on lexicology.

The subject of this article is the music making during the Catholic Church feasts and its development since the Christianization of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania until nowadays, with special emphasis on the music making tradition of the 20th–21st centuries. Following the spread of Christianity, the tradition of the religious feasts was quick to catch on, along with its peculiar Western European customs and culture of the musical styling. According to the historical sources, as early as in the end of the 14th century (that is, barely ten years after the official Christianization) the wind and percussion instruments were played in the Vilnius Cathedral. The academic wind and percussion instruments, having been since ancient times used in the army of various European countries, including the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, became adapted by the musical culture of the manors and dioceses, finding their use during pilgrimages, celebratory processions, services, etc. During the Renaissance and Baroque periods, an especially important social and cultural role was played by the Vilnius Academy, established by the Jesuits, at which also instruction in music was offered. The Jesuits organized particularly pompous processions of the Corpus Christi, which included theatrical performances, participation of numerous musicians and singers, firing guns, etc. According to the archived data, during the Baroque times the majority of the churches or the affiliated brethrens used to possess both the brass and the percussion instruments: usually – two or more trumpets, French horns, and kettledrums. These instruments were regarded necessary in order to celebrate the titular feasts of the parish in the appropriate way, that is, with musical accompaniment, or to travel likewise to the festivities held in the neighborhood. Thus the folk piety tradition of the brass bands got shaped, which, having already disappeared in other Lithuanian regions, continues to live on in Samogitia in the 20th–21st century. It is particularly important in relation to the rituals of visiting the Samogitian Calvary (Žemaičių Kalvarija) – a variety of the popular baroque European tradition of the Way of the Cross (Via Crucis), the first one of which in the Grand Duchy of Lithuania was established in Samogitia. Quite likely, these Stations of the Cross since their very establishment used to be visited ceremoniously, including singing and the appropriate accompaniment by wind instruments and kettledrums. This tradition survived in spite of being prohibited both during the tsarist Russian oppression and during the Soviet atheism periods. During the Soviet occupation the musicians, although being harassed or even arrested, still used to go to play at the religious feasts, thus expressing not only their devotion, but also their protest against the regime of the religious oppression. After Lithuania regained its independence in the end of the 20th century, the new kind of worshipers who had been brought up unaware of the traditional Calvary Hymns singing started the new way of singing accompanied by kanklės (Lithuanian cithertype instrument) and guitars. Still, in spite of this wave of musical pluralism, the brass bands preserved their positions. Until the present day, worshipers visiting the Stations of the Cross at the Samogitian Calvary are accompanied by the musicians playing the brass instruments, who are traditionally rewarded with money. Depending on the particular worshipers’ needs, three kinds of functions performed by the musicians can be discerned: firstly, the group of 4 to 6 musicians may only play; secondly, 2 to 5 musicians lead the prayers both singing and playing; and thirdly (a medium variant), the group of 4 to 6 musicians both plays and sings. The analysis presented in the article allows maintaining that prior to becoming part of the wedding, christening and funeral rituals of the village people, brass instruments had already become an integral part of the musical expression of the exceptional solemnity of folk piety.

Atonement can only be made by the Lord Jesus Himself through the holy blood of Jesus, through His death on the cross, so that believers will be sanctified and without blemish before Him. From the results of the interviews, information was obtained that there are still congregations who find it difficult to accept teachings about reconciliation, because they are still bound by the culture of their ancestors. This study uses qualitative descriptive methods[1]with literature review approaches, analysis studies, observations, surveys and interviews. From the results of the interview, information was obtained that not all congregations can live diligently and have full hope in God, because they are still influenced by the cultural customs of their ancestors. There is a possibility that God's servants have taught well through sermons, but there is no follow-up so there are still congregations who are not faithful to accompanying God. The background of God's servants among GKKB are different in terms of education, age, length of service, gender, Offices and places of ministry of course also vary the way and depth of material in teaching this atonement to the congregation. Therefore, the writer formulates the problem: 1) Which dimension is the most dominant in determining the level of confirmation of teaching about reconciliation based on Colossians 1:1-23 among the servants of the Christian Church of West Kalimantan? And 2) Which background is dominant in determining the level of confirmation of teaching about reconciliation based on Colossians 15:1-23 among the servants of the Christian Church of West Kalimantan? 1-23 among the servants of the Christian Church of West Kalimantan? And 2) Which background is dominant in determining the level of confirmation of teaching about reconciliation based on Colossians 15:1-23 among the servants of the Christian Church of West Kalimantan? 1-23 among the servants of the Christian Church of West Kalimantan? And 2) Which background is dominant in determining the level of confirmation of teaching about reconciliation based on Colossians 15:1-23 among the servants of the Christian Church of West Kalimantan?

Full TextThe first law enacted in Canada to protect existing Aboriginal rights was section 35 of the Constitution Act, 1982.2 The first law in Canada to recognize the rights of non-human animals as anything other than property has yet to be enacted. The first Supreme Court of Canada (hereafter referred to as the Court) case to interpret section 35 was R. v. Sparrow.3 The 1990 case confirmed an Aboriginal right of the Musqueam peoples of British Columbia to fish for food, social and ceremonial purposes. Since this precedent-setting case, many similar claims have been brought before the courts by way of the fluctuating legal space created by s.35. Many of these cases have been about establishing rights to fish4, hunt5, and trap non-human animals (hereafter referred to as animals). The Court has developed, and continues to develop tests to determine the existence and scope of Aboriginal rights. These tests primarily embody cultural, political and, to a surprisingly lesser degree, legal forces. One of the principal problems with these tests is that they privilege, through the western philosophical lens, the interests of humans. Animals are, at best, the resources over which ownership is being contested. The Euro-centric legal conceptualization of animals as 'resources' over which ownership can be exerted is problematic for at least two reasons. First, the relegation of animals solely to a utilitarian role is antithetical to Indigenous-animal relationships and therefore demonstrates one of the fundamental ways the Canadian legal system is ill equipped to give adequate consideration to Indigenous law. Second, failure to consider animals' inherent value and agency in this context reproduces the human-animal and culture-nature binaries that are at the root of many of western Euro-centric society's inequities. This paper argues that Aboriginal peoples' relationships with animals are a necessary, integral and distinctive part of their cultures6 and, therefore, these relationships and the actors within them are entitled to the aegis of s.35. Through the legal protection of these relationships, animals will gain significant protection as a corollary benefit. If the Court were to protect the cultural relationships between animals and Aboriginal groups, a precondition would be acceptance of Indigenous legal systems. Thus, this paper gives a brief answer to the question, what are Indigenous legal systems and why are animals integral to them? The Anishinabe (also known Ojibwe or Chippewa) are Indigenous peoples who have historically lived in the Great Lakes region. The Bruce Peninsula on Lake Huron is home to the Cape Croker Indian Reserve, where the Chippewas of Nawash First Nation live. The people of this First Nation identify as Anishinabe. The Anishinabek case of Nanabush v. Deer is a law among these people and is used throughout the paper as an example of Indigenous-animal relationships. Making the significant assumption that s.35 has the capacity to recognize Indigenous law, the subsequent section of the paper asks why we should protect these relationships and how that protection should be achieved. Finally, the paper concludes that both the ability of s.35 to recognize Indigenous-animal relationships, and the judicial and political will to grant such recognition, are unlikely. Indigenous-animal relationships are integral to the distinctive culture of the Anishinabek, however the courts would be hesitant to allow such an uncertain and potentially far-reaching right. This is not surprising given that such a claim by both Indigenous and animal groups would challenge the foundations upon which the Canadian legal system is based. There are many sensitive issues inherent in this topic. It should be noted the author is not of Indigenous ancestry, but is making every effort to learn about and respect the Indigenous legal systems discussed. While this paper focuses on a number of Anishinabek laws; it is neither a complete analysis of these practices, nor one that can be transferred, without adaptation, to other peoples. Finally, Indigenous peoples and animal rights and Indigenous law scholars, such as Tom Regan and Mary Ellen Turpel-Lafond, respectively, may insist on an abolitionist approach to animal 'use' or reject the legitimacy of s.35 itself.7 These perspectives are worthy and necessary. This paper positions itself amongst these and other sources in order to reflect upon the timely and important issue of the legal status of Indigenous-animal relationships. I:WHAT ARE INDIGENOUS LEGAL SYSTEMS? The Law Commission of Canada defines a legal tradition as “a set of deeply rooted, historically conditioned attitudes about the nature of law, the role of law in the society and the polity, the proper organization and operation of a legal system, and the way law is or should be made, applied, studied, perfected and taught.”8 Indigenous legal traditions fit this description. They are living systems of beliefs and practices, and have been recognized as such by the courts.9 Indigenous practices developed into systems of law that have guided communities in their governance, and in their relationships amongst their own and other cultures and with the Earth.10 These laws have developed through stories, historical events that may be viewed as ‘cases,’ and other lived experiences. Indigenous laws are generally non-prescriptive, non-adversarial and non-punitive and aim to promote respect and consensus, as well as close connection with the land, the Creator, and the community. Indigenous laws are a means through which vital knowledge of social order within the community is transmitted, revived and retained. After European ‘settlement’ the influence of Indigenous laws waned. This was due in part to the state’s policies of assimilation, relocation and enfranchisement. 11 Despite these assaults, Indigenous legal systems have persevered; they continue to provide guidance to many communities, and are being revived and re-learned in others. For example, the Nisga’a’s legal code, Ayuuk, guides their communities and strongly informs legislation enacted under the Nisga’a Final Agreement, the first modern treaty in British Columbia.12 The land and jurisdiction claims of the Wet’suwet’en and Gitxsan Nations ultimately resulted in the Court’s decision in Delgamuukw,13 a landmark case that established the existence of Aboriginal title. The (overturned) BC Supreme Court’s statement in Delgamuukw14 reveals two of the many challenges in demonstrating the validity of Indigenous laws: “what the Gitxsan and Wet’suwet’en witnesses[es] describe as law is really a most uncertain and highly flexible set of customs which are frequently not followed by the Indians [sic] themselves.” The first challenge is that many laws are not in full practice, and therefore not as visible as they could be and once were. What the courts fail to acknowledge, however, is that the ongoing colonial project has served to stifle, extinguish and alter these laws. The second challenge is that the kind of law held and practiced by Indigenous peoples is quite foreign to most non-Indigenous people. Many Indigenous laws have animals as central figures. In Anishinabek traditional law, often the animals are the lawmakers15: they develop the legal principles and have agency as law givers. For instance, the Anishinabek case Nanabush v. Deer, Wolf , as outlined by Burrows, is imbued with legal principles, lessons on conduct and community governance, as well as ‘offenses’ and penalties. It is not a case that was adjudicated by an appointed judge in a courtroom, but rather one that has developed over time as a result of peoples’ relationships with the Earth and its inhabitants. An abbreviated summary of the case hints at these legal lessons: Nanabush plays a trick on a deer and deliberately puts the deer in a vulnerable position. In that moment of vulnerability, Nanabush kills the deer and then roasts its body for dinner. While he is sleeping and waiting for the deer to be cooked, the Wolf people come by and take the deer. Nanabush wakes up hungry, and out of desperation transforms into a snake and eats the brains out of the deer head. Once full, he is stuck inside the head and transforms back into his original shape, but with the deer head still stuck on. He is then chased and nearly killed by hunters who mistake him for a real deer. This case is set within the legal context of the Anishinabek’s treaty with deer. In signing the treaty, the people were reminded to respect beings in life and death and that gifts come when beings respect each other in interrelationships.16 Nanabush violated the rights of the deer and his peoples’ treaty with the deer. He violated the laws by taking things through trickery, and by causing harm to those he owed respect. Because his actions were not in accordance with Anishinabek legal principles, he was punished: Nanabush lost the thing he was so desperately searching for, and he ended up nearly being killed. This case establishes two lessons. The first is that, like statutory and common law, with which Canadians are familiar, Indigenous law does not exist in isolation. Principles are devised based on multiple teachings, pre- vious rules and the application of these rules to facts. That there are myriad sources of Indigenous law suggests that the learning of Indigenous law would require substantial effort on the part of Canadian law-makers.17 The second is that animals hold an important place in Indigenous law, and those relationships with animals – and the whole ‘natural’ world – strongly inform the way they relate to the Earth. II: CAN CANADIAN LAW ACCEPT INDIGENOUS LEGAL SYSTEMS? If there were a right recognized under s.35 concerning the Indigenous-animal relationship, what would it look like? Courts develop legal tests to which the facts of each case are applied, theoretically creating a degree of predictability as to how a matter will be judged. Introduced in Sparrow, and more fully developed in Van der Peet, a ‘test’ for how to assess a valid Aboriginal right has been set out by the Court. Summarized, the test is: “in order to be an Aboriginal right an activity must be an element of a practice, custom or tradition integral to the distinctive culture of the Aboriginal group claiming the right.”18 There are ten, differently weighted factors that a court will consider in making this assessment. The right being ‘tested’ in this discussion is the one exemplified in Nanabush v. Deer: the ability of Indigenous peoples to recognize and practice their laws, which govern relationships, including death, with deer and other animals. The courts have agreed that a generous, large and liberal construction should be given to Indigenous rights in order to give full effect to the constitutional recognition of the distinctiveness of Aboriginal culture. Still, it is the courts that hold the power to define rights as they conceive them best aligning with Canadian society19; this is one way that the Canadian state reproduces its systems of power over Indigenous peoples.20 The application of the Aboriginal right exemplified in Nanbush v. Deer to the Sparrow and Van der Peet tests would likely conclude that the Anishinabek do have an integral and distinctive relationship with animals. However, due to the significant discretion of the Court on a number of very subjective and politically sensitive factors, it is uncertain that the Nanabush v. Deer case would ‘pass’ Van der Peet’s required ten factors.21 This is indicative of the structural restraints that s.35 imposes. 22 The questions it asks impair its ability to capture and respect the interrelationships inherent in Indigenous peoples’ interactions with animals. For example, the Court will characterize hunting or fishing as solely subsistence, perhaps with a cultural element. Shin Imai contends these activities mean much more: “To many…subsistence is a means of reaffirming Aboriginal identity by passing on traditional knowledge to future generations. Subsistence in this sense moves beyond mere economics, encompassing the cultural, social and spiritual aspects for the communities.”23 Scholar Kent McNeil concludes that: “regardless of the strengths of legal arguments in favour of Indigenous peoples, there are limits to how far the courts […] are willing to go to correct the injustices caused by colonialism and dispossession.”24 It is often not the legal principles that determine outcomes, but rather the extent to which Indigenous rights can be reconciled with the history of settlement without disturbing the current economic and political structure of the dominant culture. III:WHY PROTECT THE ANIMAL-INDIGENOUS RELATIONSHIP? Legally protecting animal-Indigenous relationships offers symbiotic, mutually respectful benefits for animals and for the scope of Aboriginal rights that can be practiced. For instance, a protected relationship would have indirect benefits for animals’ habitat and right to life: it would necessitate protecting the means necessary, such as governance of the land, for realization of the right. This could include greater conservation measures, more contiguous habitat, enforcement of endangered species laws, and, ideally, a greater awareness and appreciation by humans of animals and their needs. Critical studies scholars have developed the argument that minority groups should not be subject to culturally biased laws of the mainstream polity.24 Law professor Maneesha Deckha points out that animals, despite the central role they play in a lot of ‘cultural defences,’ have been excluded from our ethical consideration. Certainly, the role of animals has been absent in judicial consideration of Aboriginal rights.26 Including animals, Deckha argues, allows for a complete analysis of these cultural issues and avoids many of the anthropocentric attitudes inherent in Euro-centric legal traditions. In Jack and Charlie27 two Coast Salish men were charged with hunting deer out of season. They argued that they needed to kill a deer in order to have raw meat for an Aboriginal religious ceremony. The Court found that killing the deer was not part of the ceremony and that there was insufficient evidence to establish that raw meat was required. This is a case where a more nuanced consideration of the laws and relationships with animals would have resulted in a more just application of the (Canadian) law and prevented the reproduction of imperialist attitudes. A criticism that could be lodged against practicing these relationships is that they conflict with the liberty and life interests of animals.28 Theoretically, if Indigenous laws are given the legal and political room to fully operate, a balance between the liberty of animals and the cultural and legal rights of Indigenous peoples can be struck.29 Indeed, Indigenous peoples’ cultural and legal concern for Earth is at its most rudimentary a concern for the land, which is at the heart of the challenge to the Canadian colonial system. If a negotiated treaty was reached, or anti-cruelty and conservation laws were assured in the Indigenous peoples’ self government system, then Canadian anti-cruelty30 and conservation laws,31 the effectiveness of which are already questionable, could be displaced in recognition of Indigenous governance.32 Indigenous peoples in Canada were – and are, subject to imposed limitations – close to the environment in ways that can seem foreign to non-Indigenous people.33 For example, some origin stories and oral histories explain how boundaries between humans and animals are at times absent: Animal-human beings like raven, coyote and rabbit created them [humans] and other beings. People …acted with respect toward many animals in expectation of reciprocity; or expressed kinship or alliance with them in narratives, songs, poems, parables, performances, rituals, and material objects. 34 Furthering or reviving these relationships can advance the understanding of both Indigenous legal systems and animal rights theory. Some animal rights theorists struggle with how to explain the cultural construction of species difference: Indigenous relationships with animals are long standing, lived examples of a different cultural conception of how to relate to animals and also of an arguably healthy, minimally problematic way to approach the debate concerning the species divide.35 A key tenet of animal-Indigenous relationships is respect. Shepard Krech posits that Indigenous peoples are motivated to obtain the necessary resources and goals in ‘proper’ ways: many believe that animals return to the Earth to be killed, provided that hunters demonstrate proper respect.36 This demonstrates a spiritual connection, but there is also a concrete connection between Indigenous peoples and animals. In providing themselves with food and security, they ‘manage’ what Canadian law calls ‘resources.’37 Because of the physical nature of these activities, and their practical similarity with modern ‘resource management,’ offering this as ‘proof’ of physical connection with animals and their habitat may be more successful than ‘proving’ a spiritual relationship. Finally, there are health reasons that make the Indigenous-animal relationship is important. Many cultures have come to depend on the nutrients they derive from particular hunted or fished animals. For example, nutrition and physical activity transitions related to hunting cycles have had negative impacts on individual and community health.38 This shows the multidimensionality of hunting, the significance of health, and, by extension, the need for animal ‘resources’ to be protected. IV: HOW SHOULD WE PROTECT THESE ABORIGINAL RIGHTS? If the Anishinabek and the deer ‘win’ the constitutional legal test (‘against’ the state) and establish a right to protect their relationships with animals, what, other than common law remedies,39 would follow? Below are ideas for legal measures that could be taken from the human or the animal perspective, or both, where benefits accrue to both parties. If animals had greater agency and legal status, their needs as species and as individuals could have a meaningful place in Canadian common and statutory law. In Nanabush v. Deer, this would mean that the deer would be given representation and that legal tests would need to be developed to determine the animals’ rights and interests. Currently the courts support the view that animals can be treated under the law as any other inanimate item of property. Such a legal stance is inconsistent with a rational, common-sense view of animals,40 and certainly with Anishinabek legal principles discussed herein.41 There are ongoing theoretical debates that inform the practical questions of how animal equality would be achieved: none of these in isolation offers a complete solution, but combined they contribute to the long term goal. Barsh and James Sákéj Youngblood Henderson advocate an adoption of the reasoning in the Australian case Mabo v. Queensland,42 where whole Aboriginal legal systems were imported intact into the common law. Some principles that Canada should be following can also be drawn from international treaties that Canada has or should have signed on to.43 Another way to seek protection from the human perspective is through the freedom of religion and conscience section of the Charter. Professor John Borrows constructs a full argument for this, and cites its challenges, in Living Law on a Living Earth: Aboriginal Religion, Law and the Constitution.44 The strongest, but perhaps most legally improbable, way to protect the animal- Indigenous relationship is for Canada to recognize a third, Indigenous order of government (in addition to provincial and federal), where all three orders are equal and inform one another’s laws. This way, Indigenous laws would have the legal space to fully function and be revived. Endowing Indigenous peoples with the right to govern their relationships would require a great acquiescence of power by governments and a commitment to the establishment and maintenance of healthy self-government in Indigenous communities. Louise Mandell offers some reasons why Canada should treat Aboriginal people in new ways, at least one of which is salient to the third order of government argument: To mend the [E]arth, which must be done, governments must reassess the information which the dominant culture has dismissed. Some of that valuable information is located in the oral histories of Aboriginal Peoples. This knowledge will become incorporated into decisions affecting the [E]arth’s landscape when Aboriginal Peoples are equal partners in decisions affecting their territories.45 V: CONCLUSION A legal system that does not have to justify its existence or defend its worth is less vulnerable to challenges.46 While it can be concluded that s.35 has offered some legal space for Indigenous laws and practices, it is too deeply couched in Euro-centric legal traditions and the anthropocentric cultural assumptions that they carry. The most effective strategy for advancing Indigenous laws and culture, that would also endow many animals with greater agency, and relax the culture-nature, human-animal binaries, is the formal recognition of a third order of government. Lisa Chartrand explains that recognition of legal pluralism would be a mere affirmation of legal systems that exist, but which are stifled: “…this country is a multijuridical state, where the distinct laws and rules of three systems come together within the geographic boundaries of one political territory.” 47 Revitalizing Indigenous legal systems is and will be a challenging undertaking. Indigenous communities must reclaim, define and understand their own traditions: “The loss of culture and traditions caused by the historic treatment of Aboriginal communities makes this a formidable challenge for some communities. Equally significant is the challenge for the Canadian state to create political and legal space to accommodate revitalized Indigenous legal traditions and Aboriginal law-making.”48 The project of revitalizing Indigenous legal traditions requires the commitment of resources sufficient for the task, and transformative change to procedural and substantive law. The operation of these laws within, or in addition to, Canadian law would of course cause widespread, but worthwhile controversy. In Animal Bodies, Cultural Justice49 Deckha argues that an ethical relationship with the animal Other must be established in order realize cultural and animal rights. This paper explores and demonstrates the value in finding legal space where cultural pluralism and respect for animals can give rise to the practice of Indigenous laws and the revitalization of animal-Indigenous relationships. As Borrows writes: “Anishinabek law provides guidance about how to theorize, practice and order our association with the [E]arth, and could do so in a way that produces answers that are very different from those found in other sources.”50 (see PDF for references)

Resumo: Ao longo das últimas décadas, os etnosaberes de culturas tradicionais têm sido objeto de inúmeros estudos em distintos campos científicos. Com frequência, os estudos realizados buscam levantar e analisar dados e informações a respeito dos múltiplos usos da biodiversidade, compreender as formas de classificação, domesticação e manipulação da fauna e da flora, assim como interpretar a complexa relação homem-natureza em suas diferentes dimensões, escalas espaço-temporais e significações culturais. Neste sentido, examinamos no presente artigo os etnosaberes relacionados aos usos de plantas, animais e insetos em práticas terapêuticas, mágico-ritualísticas e simbólico-culturais de comunidades quilombolas do Vale do Jequitinhonha mineiro. Para consecução desse objetivo, recorremos ao uso de uma metodologia essencialmente qualitativa, operacionalizada por meio de entrevistas semiestruturadas com agricultores e agricultoras quilombolas, caminhadas transversais e observações diretas nos quintais agroflorestais de seus estabelecimentos produtivos, além de registros iconográficos (fotografias e croquis) destes espaços e de seus cultivos. Por meio deste estudo, constatamos que os etnosaberes constituem uma importante expressão cultural da relação homem-natureza, das experiências espaço-temporais, interações sociais, costumes e cosmovisões dos membros das comunidades quilombolas, contribuindo para a manutenção dos processos de reprodução material e simbólico-cultural de suas famílias e coletividades e para a preservação da espaço-temporalidade da cultura afro-brasileira no Vale do Jequitinhonha mineiro.Palavras-chave: Saberes Tradicionais. Etnobotânica. Etnozoologia. Etnoentomologia. Plantas medicinais. Ethnoknowledge and traditional afro-brazilian cultures: pharmacopoeia, magic and material and symbolic reproduction of quilombola communities of the Jequitinhonha Valley, state of Minas Gerais, BrazilAbstract: During the past several decades ethno-biological knowledge of traditional cultures has been an object of innumerous studies. Such studies often intend to take and analyse data pertaining to; the many uses of biodiversity, understanding the forms of classification and techniques of domestication and manipulation of fauna and flora, as well as, to interpret the complex relationship between man and nature in its different dimensions, spatio-temporal scales and cultural significances. Conforming to this tradition we examine in the following article ethno-biological knowledge related to the uses of plants, animals and insects in the therapeutical, magical and culturally-symbolic practises of the Quilombola communities of the Jequitinhonha Valley in Minas Gerais. To achieve our objective we relied upon the use of an essentially qualitative methodology carried out by means of semi-structured interviews with farmers and Quilombola farmers, cross-country hikes and direct observations from agro-florestal field cultivations, also documenting in the form of iconographic records (photographs and sketches) these spaces and their crops. Through this study we show that ethno-biological knowledge constitutes an important cultural expression of the relationship between man and nature, spatio-temporal experiences, social interactions, customs and worldviews of the members of Quilombola communities. This knowledge contributes to the maintenance of the processes of material and symbolic-cultural production of these families and collectives and thus aids in the preservation of the living afro-brazilian culture within the Jequitinhonha Valley of Minas Gerais.Keywords: Traditional knowledge. Ethnobotany. Ethnozoology. Ethnoentomology. Medicinal Plants. Ethno-savoirs et cultures traditionnelles afro-brésiliennes: pharmacopée, magie et reproduction matérielle et symbolique des communautés quilombolas dans la Valée du Jequitinhonha, état de Minas Gerais, BrésilRésumé: Au cours des dernières décennies, les ethno-savoirs des cultures traditionnelles ont fait l’objet de nombreuses études dans les différents domaines scientifiques. Souvent, les études menées visent à collecter et analyser des données et des informations sur les multiples usages de la biodiversité ; à comprendre les formes de classification, de domestication et de manipulation de la faune et de la flore ; ainsi qu’à interpréter la relation complexe entre l’homme et la nature dans ses différentes dimensions, échelles spatio-temporelles et significations culturelles. Dans ce sens, nous examinons dans cet article les ethno-savoirs liés aux utilisations des plantes, des animaux et des insectes dans les pratiques thérapeutiques, magiques, rituelles, symboliques culturelles des communautés quilombolas dans la Vallée du Jequitinhonha, état de Minas Gerais, Brésil. Pour atteindre cet objectif, nous avons eu recours à une méthodologie essentiellement qualitative, opérationnalisée à partir d’entretiens semi-structurés avec des agriculteurs et agricultrices quilombolas, des randonnées et des observations directes dans les systèmes agroforestiers dans les jardins de leurs exploitations agricoles, en plus des enregistrements iconographiques (photographies et croquis) de ces espaces et de leurs cultures agricoles. À travers cette étude, nous avons constaté que les ethno-savoirs constituent une expression culturelle importante de la relation homme-nature, des expériences spatio-temporelles, des interactions sociales, des coutumes et des visions du monde des membres des communautés quilombolas, contribuant au maintien des processus de reproduction matérielle et symbolique de leurs familles et communautés et à la préservation de l’espace-temporalité de la culture afro-brésilienne dans la Valée du Jequitinhonha.Mots-clé: Savoirs traditionnels. Ethnobotanique. Ethnozoologie. Ethnoentomologie. Plantes médicinales.

With its diverse culture, customs, religions, beliefs, and faith, India stands out as the world's largest democracy, guaranteeing its citizens' fundamental rights to equality and opportunity, as well as the freedom of speech and expression, their right to practise their religion, and their right to a free and appropriate education through its very constitution. Our constitution's equality clause (articles 14 and 15) prohibits discrimination on the basis of religion, race, caste, sex, or place of birth. The right to life and personal liberty is guaranteed by Article 21 of the constitution, which is the most important justification for repealing the antiquated Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code, 1860, which had outlawed homosexuality since the 19th century. The basic rights protected by our constitution's articles 14, 19, and 21 were breached by Section 377 of the IPC. Even though it wasn't that early, on September 6, 2018, the Supreme Court issued a landmark decision by overturning and finally ending the prohibition of section 377 in India. Even gays have the same right to privacy and to live with dignity in society as do heterosexuals. The historical ruling allowed homosexuals in India to be accepted as natural persons and to enjoy the freedom to live and love as they choose.The topic of homosexuality was forbidden for a very long time, but only after this ruling did Indians begin to talk more openly about it in public. The Indian population is becoming more aware of homosexuality, which is assisting in coping with, adjusting to, and accepting homosexuals into an inclusive society. However, prejudice and other negative attitudes toward homosexuals are present due to various cultures and lifestyles incorporated into most religions, which causes conflict in the community. The stigmatised traditional social constructs, authoritarian parents with homophobic beliefs, and the vast majority of people who lack knowledge and understanding of sex and gender studies can all contribute to homophobia. The purpose of the study is to determine how Indians feel about homosexuals in the present. It seeks to uncover peoples' knowledge and comprehension of homosexuality and to examine their covert homophobia. An online cross-sectional survey using the questionnaire approach served as the study's foundation. The need to comprehend, recognise, and articulate the issues in-depth was brought into effect, and the snowball sampling method was developed with questions relating to sex education, knowledge of homosexuality, attitude toward homosexuality, and relevant details to study and analyse the perception and views of the Indian Society regarding homosexuals. Googleforms was used to get the information. The participants' awareness of homosexuality was fair and positive. They proclaimed support for and positivity toward homosexuals. According to the study, the adult and adolescent populations (between the ages of 18 and 35) made up the majority of the survey's participants. Most of the respondents were members of the educated class who are Indian university graduates. The findings showed that while the participants were well aware that gays exist and that societal acceptance of them is pluralistic and equally just, fair, and valid, personal and cultural homophobia nonetheless persisted in them. The problems won't disappear overnight. They are the result of long-standing stigma. We must let go of our naivety, dismantle conventional homophobic notions, embrace reality, and work for a more equitable, libertarian, and just society if we want to live in one. To help with their inclusion in society, practical advice like effective parenting and a friendly attitude toward gays should be put into practise. Prioritize taking measures to incorporate "gender and sex education" into the curriculum so that kids are taught about it from the start and develop a universal acceptance of homosexuals as a normal part of society. Expanded understanding and awareness of the issues facing gays should be promoted through workshops, seminars, webinars, and other forums. To accelerate the revolution in the rights and freedoms of homosexuals, information must be made available to the general population. Although there is a long battle ahead, it is not insurmountable. Everyone has a right to article 21 under the Indian constitution, regardless of gender. The homo community deserves to live in a just, equitable, and respectable society. In order to proudly live in a free and brave India, they must be accepted wholeheartedly.

Background.Rosa, as the "Queen of Flowers" has always occupied a special place in the garden. The emergence of rose gardens is rooted in antiquity. Rose is a kind of “tuning fork” of eras. We can see how the symbolism of the flower was transformed, depending on the philosophy and cultural values of society. And this contributed to the various functions and aesthetic delivery of roses in gardens and parks of different eras. Despite the large number of works on roses, today there are no studies that can combine philosophy, cultural aspects of the era, the history of gardens and parks with symbols of the plant world (in particular roses) with the identification of a number of features and patterns.Objectives.The purpose of the article is to study the symbolism of rosesin landscape gardening art of different eras.Methods.The historical method helps to trace the stages of the transformation of the symbolism of roses in different historical periods. The inductive method allows you to move from the analysis of the symbolism of roses in each era to generalization, the identification of patterns, the connection of the cultural life of society with the participation of roses in it. Graph-analytical method reveals the features of creating various types of gardens with roses, taking into account trends in styles and time.Results.In the gardens of Ancient Greece, the theme of refined aesthetics, reflections on life and death dominated. It is no accident that in ancient times it was an attribute of the goddesses of love. In antiquity, she was a favorite flower of the goddess of beauty and love of Aphrodite (Venus). In connection with the legend of the goddess, there was a custom to draw or hang a white rose in the meeting rooms, as a reminder of the non-disclosure of the said information. It was also believed that roses weaken the effect of wine and therefore garlands of roses decorated feasts, festivities in honor of the god of winemaking Dionysus (Bacchus). The rose was called the gift of the gods. Wreaths of roses were decorated: statues of the gods during religious ceremonies, the bride during weddings. The custom of decorating the floor with rose petals, twisting columns of curly roses in the halls came to the ancient palace life from Ancient Egypt, from Queen Cleopatra, highlighted this flower more than others. In ancient Rome, rose gardens turned into huge plantations. Flowers from them were intended to decorate palace halls during feasts. In Rome, a religious theme was overshadowed by luxurious imperial greatness. It is interesting that in Rome, which constantly spreads its borders, a rose from a "female" flower turned into a "male" one. The soldiers, setting out on a campaign, put on pink wreaths instead of helmets, symbolizing morality and courage, and returning with victory, knocked out the image of a rose on shields. From roses weaved wreaths and garlands, received rose oil, incense and medicine. The banquet emperors needed so many roses, which were also delivered by ships from Egypt. Ironically, it is generally accepted that Nero's passion for roses contributed to the decline of Rome. After the fall of the Roman Empire, rose plantations were abandoned because Christianity first associated this flower with the licentiousness of Roman customs. In the Early Middle Ages, the main theme is the Christian religion and roses are located mainly in the monastery gardens, symbolizing divine love and mercy. Despite the huge number of civil wars, when the crops and gardens of neighbors were violently destroyed, the only place of peace and harmony remained the monastery gardens. They grew medicinal plants and flowers for religious ceremonies. During this period, the rose becomes an attribute of the Virgin Mary, Jesus Christ and various saints, symbolizing the church as a whole. More deeply, the symbolism of the rose was revealed in Catholic life, when the rosary and a special prayer behind them were called the "rose garden". Now the rose has become the personification of mercy, forgiveness, martyrdom and divine love. In the late Middle Ages, in the era of chivalry, roses became part of the "cult of the beautiful lady." Rose becomes a symbol of love of a nobleman to the wife of his heart. Courtesy was of a socially symbolic nature, described in the novel of the Rose. The lady, like a rose, symbolized mystery, magnificent beauty and temptation. Thus, in the Late Middle Ages, the secular principle manifests itself on a par with the religious vision of the world. And in the Renaissance, the religious and secular component are in balance. The theme of secular pleasures and entertainments was transferred further to the Renaissance gardens. In secular gardens at palaces, villas and castles, it symbolized love, beauty, grace and perfection. In this case, various secret societies appear that choose a rose as an emblem, as a symbol of eternity and mystery. And if the cross in the emblem of the Rosicrucians symbolized Christianity, then the rose symbolized a mystical secret hidden from prying eyes. In modern times, secular life comes to the fore, and with it new ways of communication, for example, in the language of flowers, in particular roses. In the XVII–XVIII centuries. gardening art is becoming secular; sesame, the language of flowers, comes from Europe to the East. White rose symbolized a sigh, pink –an oath of love, tea –a courtship, and bright red –admiration for beauty and passionate love [2]. In aristocratic circles, the creation of lush rose gardens is in fashion. Roses are actively planted in urban and suburban gardens. In modern times, rose gardens carry the idea of aesthetic relaxation and enjoyment. Many new varieties were obtained in the 19th century, during the period of numerous botanical breeding experiments. At this time, gardening ceased to be the property of the elite of society and became publicly available. In the XX–XXI centuries. rosaries, as before, are popular. Many of them are located on the territory of ancient villas, palaces and other structures, continuing the tradition.

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

I Guess Korean Has Some More Mirative Markers: -Napo- and -Nmoyang- The aim of this paper is to shed light on the semantics of some newly discovered Korean evidential markers -napo- and -n moyang- and to discuss their underlying cognitive mechanism by investigating their functional similarities and differences. 1. PHENOMENA IN FOCUS. The markers, to begin with, are inferential evidential markers; as shown in (2)-(3), they indicate that the speaker infers that the event referred to occurs based on her own observation: (1) cip-ey koyangi-ka iss-e [an utterance without the markers] house-Loc cat-Nom be-Ending “There is a cat in the house.” (2) [After finding a cat’s footprints around the door,] a. cip-ey koyangi-ka iss-napo-a Lit. See whether there is a cat house-Nom cat-Nom be-napo-Ending in the house. b. cip-ey koyangi-ka iss-nu-n moyang-i-a Lit. It is a shape (=situation) that house-Nom cat-Nom be-Pres-n moyang-cop-Ending there is a cat in the house. “(I can infer that) It seems that there is a cat in the house.” (3) [Seeing that the addressee’s pants is wet,] a. pakk-ey pi-ka o-napo -a Lit. See whether it rains outside outside-Loc rain-Nom come-napo-Ending b. pakk-ey pi-ka o-nu-n moyang-i-a Lit. It is a shape (=situation) that outside-Loc rain-Nom come-Pres-n moyang-cop-Ending it rains outside.” “(I can infer that) It seems that it rains outside.” The evidential markers, however, are intriguing in that they can function as a mirative evidential (DeLancey 1997): (2) and (3) sometimes indicate unexpected information, even when the speaker has direct visual access to the information. For instance, (2a-b) should be used in a context where the speaker does not have a cat in her house, whereas the cat in (1) can be specific; (3a-b) can be used in a context where the interlocutors have not known that it was raining and where the speaker who discovered it first let the addressee know. Notice that the marker’s unique semantics is also employed as a politeness strategy to hedge the speaker’s assertiveness for politeness: In (4), even though she knows that the event referred to is a fact, the speaker pretends not to know it in front of her senior: (4) [A student explaining what happened the previous night to her advisor, who was too drunk to remember anything,] ecey sensayingnim-kkeyse manhi chwiha-si-ess-*(napo-/-te-n moyang-i)e-yo. yesterday teacher-Nom [Hon] much be.drunk-Hon-Past-napo-/retro-n moyang-cop)Ending-Hon “(I can infer that) It seems that you were drunk too much.” 2. BACKGROUNDS. Most Korean linguists apparently regard the category of evidentiality as a redundant category due to its functional overlapping with mood, since there are more than a few cases where each of evidentiality and epistemic modality induces inferences about the other and since Korean has an elaborate mood system that can cover some of the territory of evidentiality (hinted by Y.-K. Ko 2007; inter alia), on the one hand. On the other hand, there are a number of linguists, (Kwon 2009, J.-M. Song, 2002, K.-S. Chung 2005, inter alia) who assume that the category of evidentiality definitely exists in Korean and focus on some of the evidential markers case by case. This paper will not treat this controversy any further, but it seems clear that the category of evidentiality is conceptually salient, and cross-linguistically pervasive. Meanwhile, it is surprising that most of studies on evidentials in Korean only concentrate on an individual item and that there has not been a comprehensive work outlining the overall picture of the overall system of evidentiality in Korean (cf. K.-S. Chung 2005). My long-term goal is to figure out the overall system of evidentiality in Korean and to characterize the semantic/pragmatic properties of the markers thoroughly. This paper focuses on the two inferential evidential markers -napo and –nmoyang among them. These markers have not been thoroughly discussed in previous literature. To explore their semantic and pragmatic properties would be of particular interest, since their extended properties are inherited from their original constructions (to be discussed in section 3) where elaborate pragmatic inferences are involved. 3. ANALYSES. This paper argues that the semantics of the markers converges from two different origins (-na ‘whether’ and po- ‘see’ &gt; -napo-; -n relativizer and -moyang- ‘shape’&gt; -nmoyang-), because the speaker employs different intersubjective pragmatic tactics that converge into a single function: to draw the addressee’s attention to what the speaker inferred. The original constructions can be shown as follows: (7)a. Chelswu-ka (o-na po-a /b. o-n moyang-i-a) Chelswu-Nom come-whether see-Decl come-Relativizer shape-Cop-Decl. “See whether Chelswu is coming.” The pragmatics underlying the original structure of the -napo construction is that he speaker urges the addressee to confirm what the speaker conjectures, on the one hand. On the other hand, -nmoyang is originally used in contexts where the speaker intends to describe a situation from a certain epistemic distance, which implies that the speaker has some level of knowledge of the focal event. The difference in their original constructions results in subtle functional difference of their grammaticalized forms. SUBJECT CONSTRAINTS. Other than by showing their functions, there is another supporting evidence that the markers are evidentials: they show an intriguing asymmetry in subject usages in utterances that employ either of the markers, as Aikhenvald and Dixon (2003: 16) noted that “[E]videntiality systems often interact with the grammatical person of the subject or experience.” If the markers show limitations on first person subject usages, then their evidential function requires that the speaker’s inference be based on her objectified observation, which yields asymmetry between usages involving first person subjects and those with non-first person subjects: (8) a. ku (?nay)-ka hakkyo-ey ka-ess-napo-a He(?I)-Nom school-Loc go-Past-napo-Decl b. ku (?nay)-ka hakkyo-ey ka-nmoyang-i-a He(?I)-Nom school-Loc go-nmoyang-Cop-Decl “(I can infer that) It seems that he (I?) went to school” The markers presuppose that the event referred to in the utterance is based on the speaker’s inference. It is also implicated that the speaker is not certain about the information. But, people are normally aware of their own conscious, volitional actions such as going to school. In this context, if the speaker mentioned what she had done with either of the inferential markers, it would be contradictory: Since the mode of access that the indirect evidential encodes is not direct, the inferential evidential conflicts with the direct access that a first person subject usually has with respect to her own past actions. This is a typical characteristic of evidentials. MIRATIVITY. The inferential evidential markers -napo and -nmoyang are also licensed in context where the speaker intends to express the unexpectedness of the focal event. As Delancey (1997, 1999) noted, there is a kind of evidential that encodes/implicates the ‘unprepared mind’ of the speaker, which is a mirative evidential, and this paper argues that the two inferential markers are extended to be used as such function: (9) cip-ey koyangi-ka iss-e house-Loc cat-Nom be-Decl “There is a cat in the house.” [an unidentified cat or a pet cat] (10)a. cip-ey koyangi-ka iss-napo-a house-Loc cat-Nom be-napo-Decl b. cip-ey koyangi-ka iss-nu-nmoyang-a house-Loc cat-Nom be-Imperf-nmoyang-Decl “(Oh) Wow, there is a cat in the house.” [an unidentified cat] We can see that in (10), the cat should not be a pet cat that is already identifiable to the speaker, whereas (9) could refer to either a specific or a non-specific cat. In sum, considering the given examples above that are not prototypical examples that show inferential semantics, we can learn that markers -napo and -nmoyang can encode mirativity as well as inferential evidential semantics. POLITENESS TACTIC. The markers can be used in a politeness strategy neutralizing the speaker’s assertiveness: (11) [When a bartender politely tells a drunken customer, who is demanding more drinks, to stop drinking and to go home] a. cip-ey ka-si-e-yacyo. manhi chwiha-si-ess-#(napo-)e-yo. home-Loc go-Hon-Decl-Hon.end much be.drunk-Hon-Past-napo-Decl-Hon b. cip-ey ka-si-e-yacyo. manhi chwiha-si-#(nmoyang-i)e-yo. home-Loc go-Hon-Decl-Hon.end much be.drunk-Hon-nmoyang-Cop-Decl-Hon “You should get yourself going home. (It seems that) You’re very drunk.” [Koreterm #3643] The utterances would have been rude, without the markers -napo and -nmoyang. The utterances involve the speaker’s pragmatic tactic of flouting: although the bartender has perceived the customer’s obvious drunken state, he pretends not to have directly perceived what is referred to and also pretends to indirectly infer it from some other evidence. It is noted that again, this usage of the marker is not prototypical inferential marking: The speaker has observed it, she has certainty about the information, and thus, its inferential marking function is not needed, logically speaking. Part of the pragmatic tactics involved is related to the markers’ inferential function and the other part of it is related to the markers’ mirative function. That is, in case of (11), the speaker should not assert directly that her customer is drunk, since otherwise, the utterance will threaten her customer’s face. Thus, the speaker employs either of the inferential markers in order to distance herself from the focal event, i.e., in order to pretend not to know what she observed, as if she had not perceived the scene directly. Also, the speaker employs it as if she had just recognized that her customer is drunk. The shorter the period of time during which the customer has been “obviously” drunk, the less face threat is involved in telling the customer about it. 4. DISCUSSION. So far, it has been shown that inferential evidential markers -napo- and -nmoyang- are distributed in a similar way and that even their extended functions, such as implicating mirativity and giving a rise to politeness reading, are similar to each other. SUBTLE FUNCTIONAL DIFFERENCE. Nevertheless, the markers carry subtly different degrees of the speaker’s attitude towards novelty of the information that is talked about. For instance, -napo can encode the speaker’s urgency towards the focal event, whereas -nmoyang encodes the speaker’s controlled and calm emotional state towards the focal event: (12) [While sleeping, hearing that someone has come in, the speaker is scared and says to her husband] a. totwuk-i tul-ess-napo-a thief-Nom come.in-Past-napo-Decl b.?? totwuk-i tul-unmoyang-i-a thief-Nom come.in-nmoyang-Cop-Decl “(I can infer that) It seems that a thief broke into our place.” In brief, in order for -nmoyang to be licensed, the speaker will keep a relatively farther cognitive distance toward the focal event, as if the speaker had observed the event very objectively as a third party. In contrast, -napo is likely to encode the speaker’s urgent attitude toward the target event. DISTANCING STRATEGY. In a number of cases, it is not easy to choose exactly one of these functions as the relevant one in context. This might implicate that the three functions in context are compatible with each other and thus, entangled conceptually. Here is an example show the entangled functions of the markers: (13) [The speaker is scheduled to meet her friend, but she feels sick. She feels sorry about not being able to keep the promise and tries to apologize to her friend, saying,] nay-ka aphu-{n-kapo/nmoyang-i}-a I-Nom be.sick-{Conn-napo/nmoyang-Cop}-Decl “(I can infer that) It seems that I’m sick.” Literally, the speaker expresses a guess about her own internal state. Notice that first person subject is used with either of the markers. This is possible, first, because she does not want to take responsibility for the consequence of her illness—canceling the appointment. If no evidential marker is used, the transfer of the information is direct and the fact that the speaker is sick will be directly vouched for by the speaker, which might yield an assertive reading. In (13), the speaker is less assertive and thus, avoids direct responsibility. Second, the markers allow the speaker to express the unexpectedness of the information. And obviously an unexpected problem is a better excuse for inability to keep a promise. In brief, (13) includes all the functions mentioned above: The speaker employs an inferential evidential construction in a context where it is not only a prototypical inferential statement, but also a mirative statement, which is further used as a politeness strategy. The cognitive mechanisms underlying the multiple usages of the markers stem from the speaker’s effort to distance herself from the event in question, exploiting the indirective semantics of the markers. 5. CONCLUSION. This paper argues that the markers -napo and -nmoyang are to be regarded as evidentials, by looking into their basic properties and extended properties. Specifically, they are inferential markers, which encode the speaker’s inference based on observed entities, properties, or relations. It was also shown that the markers can encode a mirative function that marks unexpectedness or unpreparedness to the speaker’s mind. Moreover, the markers are intentionally employed in a politeness strategy. This strategic indirectness derives from their inferential and mirative characteristics. Based on these observations, this paper provides a unified account for the semantic functions of these two markers, following DeLancey’s assumption that inferentials, evidentials, and miratives are semantically related, and argues that the relationship is based on pragmatic tactics of exploiting inferential and mirative senses for indirectness and politeness. It is also discussed that even though the two markers are distributed very similarly, they are subtly different in that -napo encodes immediacy, whereas -nmoyang encodes the speaker’s non-immediacy and even the speaker’s controlled and calm state of mind toward an event. Based on the similarities and differences between the two markers’ (extended) functions, this paper argued that the cognitive mechanism underlying the two markers’ functions is a distancing strategy for interactive meaning negotiation. SELECTED REFERENCES Aikhenvald, Alexandra Y. and R.M.W. Dixon (eds.). 2003. Studies in Evidentiality. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Chung, Kyung-Sook. 2005. Spaces in Tense: The Interactionof Tense, Aspect, Evidentiality and Speech Act in Korean. Ph. D. Dissertation. Simon Fraser University. DeLancey, Scott. 1997. Mirativity: The Grammatical Marking of Unexpected Information. Linguistic Typology 1. 33-52. DeLancey, Scott. 1999. The Mirative and Evidentiality. Journal of Pragmatics 33, 369-382. Ko, Yeong-Keun. 2007. Hankwukeuy Sicey, Sepep, Tongcaksang [Tense, Mood, and Aspect in Korean]. Kyeonggi-do, Korea: Taehaksa. Kwon, Iksoo. 2009. The Korean Evidential Marker -te- Revisited: Its Semantic Constraints and Distancing Effects in Mental Spaces Theory. Paper presented at Fillmore Fest 2009: Frames and Constructions, University of California, Berkeley, July 31-August 2, 2009. Song, Jae-Mog. 2002. A Typoloical Analysis of the Korean Evidential Marker ‘-Te-.’ Enehak [The Linguisitic Society of Korea] 32, 147-164.

CairnsIn Denmark, the term stenkast (a ‘stone throw’) is used for cairns – stone heaps that have accumulated in places where it was the tradition to throw a stone. A kast (a ‘throw’) would actually be a more correct term, as sometimes the heaps consist of sticks, branches, heather, or peat, rather than stones – in short, whichever was at hand at that particular place. A kast could also consist of both sticks and stones.The majority of the known Danish cairns were presented by August F. Schmidt in 1929. Since then, numerous new ones have been discovered, and we now know of around 80 cairns, cf. the list on page 264 and map Fig. 3. It appears from the descriptions that the majority – a total of 65 – are actual cairns, 14 are heaps of branches, whereas two are described as either peat or heather heaps.Geographically, the majority – a total of 53 – are found in Jutland, with most in North and Central Jutland (Fig. 3). Fifteen are known from Zealand, four from Lolland, four from Funen, and five from Bornholm.Topographically, they are found – naturally – where people would normally be passing: next to roads and in connection with sacred springs, chapels, and places of execution. However, they also occur in less busy places, in woods, along the coast, on moors, and on small islands.A few cairns have been preserved because they are still “active” as reminiscences of customs and habits of past times. This is the case of the cairn called Røsen (“røse” being another Danish term for a cairn) on Trøstrup Moor (no. 45, Fig. 1-2), of Heksens Grav (“The Witch’s Grave”) (no. 27, Fig. 4), and of the branch heap in the wood of Slotved Skov (no. 14, Fig. 5), which was recently revived after having been almost forgotten. Other cairns are maintained as prehistoric relics, as is the case of the branch heap by the name of Stikhoben (“The Stick Heap;” no. 10, Fig. 6) and Kjelds Grav (“Kjeld’s Grave,” no. 59, Fig. 7). Although heaps of stones and branches are included in the Danish Protection of Nature Act as relics of the past worthy of protection, so far merely the two latter have been listed.Whereas the remaining ’throws’ of organic material have probably disintegrated, it is still possible under favourable conditions to retrieve those made from more enduring materials – unless they have been demolished – even if they have practically sunk into oblivion (Figs. 8-10).The oldest known cairn is almost 500 years old. It was situated by the ford Præstbjerg Vad in Vinding parish near the Holstebro-Ribe highroad. Tradition says that the stone heap came into existence as a memorial of a priest in Hanbjerg, who died in the first half of the 16th century following a fall with his horse.Such legends of origin are connected with most of the Danish cairns. They usually tell of some unhappy or alarming happening supposed to have occurred at the place in question. However, they are often so vague and stereotype that they can only rarely be dated or put into a historical context. Indeed, on closer examination several of them turn out to be travelling legends. Apart from the legend of the murdered tradesman, they comprise the legend of the exorcised farmhand and that of the three sisters, who were murdered by three robbers, who turned out to be their own brothers. The latter legend, which is also known from a folksong, is connected to the so-called Varper on the high moor in Pedersker parish on Bornholm (no. 7). Until the early 20th century, it was the custom to maintain these cairns by putting back stones that had fallen down and adorn them with green sprigs. Early folklorists interpreted this as a tradition going back to an old sacrificial ritual, although the custom also seems to have had a pure practical purpose, as these stone heaps were originally cairns marking the road across inland Bornholm.A special group of the Danish cairns are connected with the tradition that someone is buried underneath them, such as a body washed ashore, a murdered child from a clandestine childbirth, a murdered person, several persons killed in a fight, an exorcised farmhand, a suicide, a murderer buried on his scene of crime, or witches and murderers buried at the place of execution. In all these cases, the throwing of a stone was supposed to protect the passers-by against the dead, who was buried in unconsecrated grounds and thus, according to public belief, haunted the spot. Another far less frequent explanation was that the stone was thrown in order to achieve a good journey or luck at the market. In some places, the traveller would throw the stone while shouting a naughty word or in other ways showing his disgust with the dead witch, criminal, or infanticide buried in that particular place. In rather a lot of the cases, as explained by the context, the cairn was merely a memorial to some unhappy occurrence, and the stone was thrown in memory of the deceased.In an article on Norwegian cairns written by the folklorist Svale Solheim, the author attached importance to achieving a clear picture of the position of the cairns (kastrøysarne) in the landscape. A closer examination showed that almost all were situated by the side of old roads – between farms and settlements, through forests, or across mountains – in short, where people would often walk. “The cairns follow the road as the shadow follows the man,” Solheim writes and gives an example of an old road, which had been relocated, and where the cairns had been moved to the new road. Furthermore, the position of the cairns along the roads turned out to not be accidental; they were always found at places that were in one way or other interesting to the travellers. This is why Solheim thought that the stone heaps mostly had the character of cairns or road stones thrown together at certain places for a pure practical purpose. “For instance,” he writes, “we find stone heaps at places along the roads where there is access to fine drinking water. These would also be natural places for a rest, and numerous stone heaps are situated by old resting places. And so it came natural to mark these places by piling up a stone heap, and of course it would be in every traveller’s interest to maintain the heaps.”The older folklore saw the tradition as a relic of pagan rituals and conceptions. As a reaction to this, Solheim and others took a tradition-functionalistic view, according to which most folklore, as seen in the light of the cultural conditions, was considered rational and the rest could be explained as pseudo beliefs, for instance educational fiction and tomfoolery.However, if we turn to our other neighbouring country, Sweden, it becomes more difficult to explain away that we are dealing with sacrificial rites, as here, the most used dialectal term for the stone and branch piles were offerhög, offervål, or offerbål (“offer” is the Swedish word for sacrifice), and when someone threw stones, sticks, or money on the pile, it was called “sacrificing.” An article from 1929 by the anthropologist Sigurd Erixon is especially interesting. Here, he documents how – apart from the cairns with a death motive (largely corresponding to the Danish cases mentioned above), Sweden had both good luck and misfortune averting sacrificial stone throwing (Fig. 13).Whereas the sacrificial cairns connected to deaths were evenly distributed across the whole country, Erixon found that the “good luck cairns” occurred mainly in environments associated with mountain pasture farming or fishing. Based on this observation and desultory comparative studies, Erixon formed the hypothesis that the “good luck cairns” represented an older and more primitive culture than the cairns associated with sacrifices to the dead. “The first,” he writes, “belong rather more to the work area of hunting, fishing, and animal husbandry, roads, and environments, whereas the death sacrificial cairns seem to be closer related to the culture of agriculture.”The problem with the folkloristic material is that most of it is based on reminiscences. In order to study the living tradition, one must turn elsewhere. However, as demonstrated by James Frazer in “The Golden Bough,” this is no problem, as the custom of throwing stones in a pile is known from all over the world, from Africa, Europe, and Asia to Australia and America (Fig. 14).Customs last, their meanings perish – the explanation why, for instance, one must throw a stone onto a stone pile, may be forgotten, or reinterpreted, or get a completely new explanation. The custom probably goes back further than any known religion. However, these have all tried to tally the stone throwing with their “theology.” In Ancient Greece, the stone piles by the roadsides were furnished with statues of Hermes (in the shape of a post with a head and sometimes a phallus). As an escort for the dead, Hermes became the god of the travellers, and just as the gods had thrown stones after Hermes when he was accused of murdering Argus, people could now do the same.With the introduction of Christianity, the throwing of stones was denounced as superstition, and a standard question for the penitents in the so-called books of penance was: “Have you carried stones to a heap?” All across Europe, crosses were planted in the stone heaps – which must have caused problems as it was considered a deadly sin to throw stones after a cross. In the culture connected with pilgrimage, the cairns got a new meaning as markers of important places. For instance, enormous stone piles outside Santiago de Compostela mark the location where pilgrims first spotted the towers of the city’s cathedral (Fig. 15). At many places, the cairns were consecrated to saints, so that now people would carry stones to them as a sacrifice or a penance. The jews also adopted the custom. The Old Testament mentions stone heaps gathered over murdered persons or placed around a larger stone, as the “witness dolmen” built by Jacob and his people to commemmorate his pact with Laban, his father-in-law. However, there is no mention of throwing new stones onto these heaps. However, the latter occurs in the still practiced Jewish custom of placing stones on the gravestones when Jews visit the graves of their dead (Fig. 16).Stone throwing in a Muslim context is illustrated by Edward Westermarck’s large investigation of rituals and popular belief with the Berbers and the Arabs in Marocco in the early 20th century. Unfortunately, it only comprises cairns connected to Muslim saints, but even with this limitation, the investigation gives an idea of the variety of applications. If the stone heap is situated near the grave of a saint, it may mark the demarcation of the sacred area, or it may have come into existence because the wayfaring have a habit of throwing a stone when they pass the grave of a saint, which they do not have time to visit. If the heap is situated on a ridge, it is usually an indication of the spot on a certain pilgrim route where the sacred places become visible for the first time. Other stone heaps mark the places where a holy man or woman is supposed to have been buried, or rested, or camped some time. By a large crossroads outside Andira, Westermark was shown a stone heap, which indicated that this place was the gathering place for saints, who met there at nighttime. The sacred cairns in Marocco are often easily recognized by the fact that they are chalked white at intervals. At some places, the cairns may also be marked with a pole with a white flag symbolising the sacred character of the place.Even Buddhism struggled against the stone heaps, especially in the form of the oboo cult, which was repeatedly reformered and reinterpreted by Buddhist missionaries. And in early 17th-century South America, the converted aristocratic Inca, Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala, made sarcastic remarks about Indians, who “even now” had preserved the bad habit of [sacrificing to] stone heaps (apachitas).”Historically, the Danish cairns can be documented from the 16th century, but the tradition may well be older. Seen in a larger, comparative context, heaps of stones and branches represent an ancient tradition rooted in the deepest cultural layers of mankind. Thus, as cultural relics, they are certainly worthy of preservation, and we ought to put a lot of effort into preserving the few still existing.Whereas it will probably be difficult to establish possible prehistoric stone heaps using archaeology, the possibilities of documenting hitherto unknown stone piles from historical times is considerably higher, if special topographic conditions are taken into consideration. In connection with small mounds on tidal meadows or stone heaps along stretches of old roads and by fords, old places of execution, springs, and grave mounds used secondarily for gallows, one should pay attention to such structures, which may well prove to be covering a grave.In a folklore context, the Danish stone heaps must be characterized as mainly “death sacrifice throws,” whereas only few were “good luck throws.” Due to the limited size of the country, and early farming, cairns and other road marks have not played the same role as a help for travellers and traffic as it did in our neighbouring countries with their huge waste areas.If the stone piles are considered part of a thousands of years old chain of traditions, they belong to the oldest human “monuments.” The global distribution of the phenomenon endows it with a mystery, which, during a travel in Mongolia, Haslund-Christensen caught with a stroke of genius: “We stood before an oboo, one of the largest I have ever seen...one of those mysterious places of sacrifice which are still secretly preserved, built of stone cast upon stone through many generations; a home of mystery which has its roots in the origin of the people itself, and whose religious significance goes much further back in time than any of the religions in the modern world.”Gustav HenningsenDansk Folkemindesamling Jesper LaursenMoesgård Museum Translated by Annette Lerche Trolle

This study explores the relevance of the core–periphery relationship in the Southern African Customs Union (SACU), a union comprising five highly unequal economies. In the analysis, the study employs five key indicators: economic size, trade logistics and facilitation, regional integration, and intra-SACU trade, to assess the main aspects underlying the core–periphery relationship in the union. The findings of this study point to dominance-dependency behavior within the union, where South Africa is the dominant core while Botswana, Lesotho, Namibia, and eSwatini are the dependent periphery. Based on the findings, the recommendations are that SACU countries should, among other strategies, identify ways of promoting high-value-added cross-border value chains across the union members. Also, the Botswana, Lesotho, Namibia, and eSwatini peripheries could improve their infrastructure and productive capacity if their objective is to create an export base in some of the products currently supplied by South Africa.

Habitual religiosity, i.e. the buildup and maintenance of religious habits, hinges on the embodied dimensions of religious memory. The processes involved can be conceptualised using Pierre Bourdieu’s theory on the habitus and Paul Connerton’s outline of the dynamics of habit-memory and habits. With the help of these theoretical tools, I analyse interview material concerning the daily religious practicesof evacuee Karelian Orthodox women, focusing specifically on three basic customs: making the sign of the cross, prayer, and the veneration of icons. These I investigate 1) as practices largely governed by the native layer of the women’s habitus; 2) as habits that continue to structure the habitus; 3) as habits incorporating cultural content; and 4) as customs influenced by the cumulative weight of the women’s habit-memory. The discussion offers a view of evacuee Karelian Orthodox women’s life-long investment in religion, and shows how in the perpetuation of this form of religiosity, small practices can bear great significance.

Abstract Chrysostom’s homily De coemeterio et de cruce (CPG 4337) was delivered during a full eucharistic synaxis on Good Friday in a cemetery outside the gates of late-fourth-century Antioch. It demonstrates both rhetorical and theological prowess. Chrysostom consoles his hearers by likening death to sleep and reflecting on the cemetery as a “sleeping place” (koimeterion). The text is notable for its theology of physical space, its conception of liturgical anamnesis, and its presentation of the Christus Victor atonement motif. The homily also highlights the liturgical role of the Holy Spirit, especially by alluding to the eucharistic epiclesis, and it chastises the congregation for their poor behavior during the communion rite. This article presents the homily’s full text in Greek with English translation, followed by a commentary that probes its major themes and liturgical aspects.

Teaching culture refers to introducing abstract thoughts and ideas to concrete skills, behaviors and customs that are unique to particular group of people. The purpose of this study was to investigate Algerian secondary stage teachers’ actual practices of teaching culture; as such methodology entailed the adoption of the descriptive analytical research design. Therefore, a teacher observation sheet (based on Byram's, 1993) was used to cross check the cultural representations presented by the teachers. More specifically, the observation took 90 hours by observing 15 teachers at eight secondary schools randomly selected in Guelma city, Algeria. The findings of the study reported a “high” percentage of integrating cultural themes as well as a large extent of bringing about opportunities to develop students' awareness of culture in teachers' practices.

As university supervisors we were alerted to heightened emotional responses (i.e., crying, not eating, not sleeping), expressed by paid-interns in an accelerated Master of Arts in Teaching (M.A.T.) cohort of STEM practitioners. While research has shown teachers prepared in alternative programs tend to have greater difficulties (Darling-Hammond, 1990), few studies have examined alternatively prepared teachers’ beliefs and expectations about teaching and learning (Tigchlaar, Brouwer, & Vermut, 2010; Good et al., 2006). This inquiry describes one paid-intern’s teaching expectations during her first year of teaching. In this phenomenological case study, part of a larger cross-case study, we collected data from interviews, observation notes and university supervisor evaluations in an effort to answer: (1) What are the expectations about teaching of a student in an accelerated M.A.T. program who is also a first-year teacher completing a paid internship and (2) In what ways did she address those expectations? We utilized self-discrepancy theory (Higgins, 1987) that provides an understanding of how expectations can produce negative effects, such as anxiety or depression. Discoveries suggest the intern held idealistic expectations about teaching, influenced by her personality, prior experiences, and the accelerated M.A.T. program, which she could not reconcile with her experiences as a teacher.

The article deals with the peculiarities of teaching English in the framework of the subject “Country studies” in higher educational institutions during the Pandemic 2020. High-quality foreign language proficiency contributes to the spread of cross-cultural ties and contacts, provides an opportunity to study and effectively use the foreign experience of cross-cultural communication, use modern information technologies, participate in international congresses and seminars, and take internships in foreign countries to improve professional training. In the modern world, international relations are an important way of a nation’s survival in the economic crises following the pandemic COVID 19. The progressive development of international relations determines the orientation of modern methods of teaching foreign languages to the real-life conditions of communication. The final result of training is aimed not only at language competence, but also the assimilation of a huge amount of extra-linguistic information necessary for adequate communication and mutual understanding. The aim of the article is to reveal the existing problems of the modern education system and English teaching in a new reality. This article suggests the way of learning English Country studies in the conditions of distance education. To simplify the mutual understanding between countries on different issues, it is necessary to learn the main peculiarities of a culture of other people, their historical and ethnocultural background. Distance learning has been widely developed in 2020-2021 in many universities (institutions of higher education) in Ukraine. The article deals with the problem of introducing a new system of training, implementing the state education program in the framework of distance learning, and the possibility of solving it through modern technologies, the use of which allows combining the advantages of full-time education, while offering the convenience and flexibility of remote work, namely: communication in a team, a sense of belonging, access to individually created materials and classes in comfortable conditions for students. The hybrid (blended) form of education (both online and offline) allows for a short time to cover a wider range of information about English-speaking countries in the country studies classes, to present species with their flora and fauna, local populations, and customs colorfully. The study of cultural aspects of teaching country studies of English-speaking countries is a promising area.

Abstract Background Psycho-physiological factors play a major role in the well-being of students. Available studies have shown that students' sleep habits and stress levels are changing dramatically, especially international students are affected negatively. Increased stress level is associated with decreased cognitive functioning, which negatively affects their academic performance. The main aim of this study was to evaluate sleep disturbance and stress level among international students of the University of Georgia (UG). Methods We conducted a cross-sectional survey of 100 randomly selected foreign and local students of UG. Self-administrated questionnaire was used to evaluate students' stress level and sleeping habits. Local students of UG were selected as a control group. Results The study found high prevalence of stress (47%) and sleep deprivation (64%) among international students. The students are facing severe psychological health issues, such as: stress, depression, anxiety, sleep disorders and behavioral problems. The results of the survey also revealed that 43% of all respondents had stress and sleep disorders, stress factors were similar for both groups. The study identified two common stress and sleep disorders among international and local students: stress and sleep problems due to changing lifestyle and due to new education system. However, several stress factors such as: different language, homesickness and cultural differences also contributed to the increased stress. Conclusions Our study identified that international students of the University of Georgia face stress and sleep deprivation. Stress related to their academic performance contributed significantly to sleep disorders. Key messages More research is recommended to better examine psychological health state of international students of the University of Georgia. More interventional programs are needed to support international students’ better integration and academic performance.

Abstract Background Although it is accepted that long-lasting insecticidal net (LLIN) use is an effective means to prevent malaria, children aged 5 to 15 years do not appear to be sufficiently protected in Madagascar; the malaria prevalence is highest in this age group. The purpose of this research is to summarize recent qualitative studies describing LLIN use among the Malagasy people with a focus on children aged 5–15 years. Methods Qualitative data from three studies on malaria conducted between 2012 and 2016 in 10 districts of Madagascar were analysed. These studies cover all malaria epidemiological profiles and 10 of the 18 existing ethnic groups in Madagascar. A thematic analysis was conducted on the collected data from semi-structured interviews, direct observation data, and informal interviews. Results A total of 192 semi-structured interviews were conducted. LLINs are generally perceived positively because they protect the health and well-being of users. However, regional representations of mosquito nets may contribute to LLIN lower use by children over 5 years of age including the association between married status and LLIN use, which leads to the refusal of unmarried young men to sleep under LLINs; the custom of covering the dead with a mosquito net, which leads to fear of LLIN use; and taboos governing sleeping spaces for siblings of opposite sexes, which leads to LLIN shortages in households. Children under 5 years of age are known to be the most vulnerable age group for acquiring malaria and, therefore, are prioritized for LLIN use when there are limited supplies in households. In contrast, children over 5 years of age, who are perceived to be at less risk for malaria, often sleep without LLINs. Conclusions Perceptions, social practices and regional beliefs regarding LLINs and vulnerability to malaria contribute to the nonuse of LLINs among children over 5 years of age in Madagascar. Modifying LLIN policies to account for these factors may increase LLIN use in this age group and reduce disease burden.

Abstract Background Alcohol affects Indigenous communities globally that have been colonised. These effects are physical, psychological, financial and cultural. This systematic review aims to describe the prevalence of current (12-month) alcohol dependence in Indigenous Peoples in Australia, New Zealand, Canada and the United States of America, to identify how it is measured, and if tools have been validated in Indigenous communities. Such information can help inform estimates of likely treatment need. Methods A systematic search of the literature was completed in six electronic databases for reports on current alcohol dependence (moderate to severe alcohol use disorder) published between 1 January 1989–9 July 2020. The following data were extracted: (1) the Indigenous population studied; country, (2) prevalence of dependence, (3) tools used to screen, assess or diagnose current dependence, (4) tools that have been validated in Indigenous populations to screen, assess or diagnose dependence, and (5) quality of the study, assessed using the Appraisal Tool for Cross-Sectional Studies. Results A total of 11 studies met eligibility criteria. Eight were cross-sectional surveys, one cohort study, and two were validation studies. Nine studies reported on the prevalence of current (12-month) alcohol dependence, and the range varied widely (3.8–33.3% [all participants], 3–32.8% [males only], 1.3–7.6% [females only]). Eight different tools were used and none were Indigenous-specific. Two tools have been validated in Indigenous (Native American) populations. Conclusion Few studies report on prevalence of current alcohol dependence in community or household samples of Indigenous populations in these four countries. Prevalence varies according to sampling method and site (for example, specific community versus national). Prior work has generally not used tools validated in Indigenous contexts. Collaborations with local Indigenous people may help in the development of culturally appropriate ways of measuring alcohol dependence, incorporating local customs and values. Tools used need to be validated in Indigenous communities, or Indigenous-specific tools developed, validated and used. Prevalence findings can inform health promotion and treatment needs, including funding for primary health care and specialist treatment services.

Abstract Scientific interest in the diversity of gestural signalling dates back to the figure of Charles Darwin. More than a hundred years later, there is a considerable body of work describing human gestural diversity across languages and cultures. However, the question of communicative culture in our closest living relatives, the nonhuman primates, is relatively unexplored. Here, we will stir new interest into this topic by (i) briefly summarizing the current knowledge of animal culture, and (ii) presenting the current knowledge on gesture cultures, diversity and usage in the most common model for early hominid behaviour, the chimpanzee (Pan troglodytes). We will focus particularly on well-established behaviours being customary in some and absent in other chimpanzee communities, and recently discovered social customs that have been suggested to differ in their form, and/or meaning across populations. We also introduce latest findings on chimpanzees’ gestural diversity, providing further evidence for the role social negotiation plays in gestural acquisition. We conclude that the field has been hampered by misconstruing great ape gestures as FAP’s, a strong research bias on the perspective of signalers only, and a lack of coherent methodology to assess the meaning and context of gestures across sites. We argue for systematic cross-site comparisons by viewing communicative exchanges as negotiations, enabling a unique perspective onto the evolutionary trajectory of culture and communication.

BackgroundThe incubus phenomenon is a paroxysmal sleep-related disorder characterized by the visuotactile sensation of a person or entity exerting pressure on one’s thorax during episodes of sleep paralysis and (apparent) wakefulness. This terrifying phenomenon is relatively unknown even though a previous meta-analysis indicated a lifetime prevalence of 0.11 for individuals in the general population and of 0.41 for selected at-risk groups, including people diagnosed with schizophrenia and students. Since the studies reviewed did not always make a strict distinction between the incubus phenomenon and isolated sleep paralysis, we carried out a cross-sectional study in a contemporary patient and student sample to attain current, more detailed data on the incubus phenomenon.Materials and methodsIn a cross-sectional design, we used the Waterloo Unusual Sleep Experience Questionnaire (WUSEQ) to screen patients with severe psychiatric disorders and university undergraduates to establish and compare prevalence rates, frequencies of occurrence, and risk factors for the incubus phenomenon.ResultsHaving interviewed 749 people, comprising 606 students and 143 patients with a schizophrenia spectrum or related disorder who had been acutely admitted to a secluded nursing ward, we computed a reported lifetime prevalence of 0.12 and 0.09, respectively, which rates were not statistically different. In both groups, the phenomenon was more common in people with a non-Western European background. Risk factors noted for the students were the use of psychotropic medication and the lifetime presence of an anxiety disorder, eating disorder, or sleeping disorder. We found no associations with age or gender in either group.ConclusionThe 0.09 and 0.12 lifetime prevalence rates we recorded for the incubus phenomenon in students and psychiatric inpatients is substantially lower than the 0.41 found in an earlier meta-analysis. We tentatively attribute this difference to an overgeneralization in previous studies but also discuss alternative explanations. The elevated prevalence among non-Western European participants may well be due to the fact that the topic continues to be part of the cultural and religious heritage of many non-Western countries.

India being a country with diverse culture, customs, religions, beliefs, and faith stands forth with its largest form of democracy giving its citizens the fundamental right of Equality and of Opportunity; Freedom of speech and expression, Freedom of Religion and guarantees cultural and educational rights by its very constitution. The equality clause (article 14 and 15) in our constitution debars from discrimination on grounds of religion, race, caste, sex or place of birth. Article 21 of the constitution gives the right to life and Personal liberty which is the eminent basis of the decriminalization of the age old section 377 of the Indian Penal Code, 1860, that banned homosexuality since the 19th century. Section 377 of the IPC violated the fundamental Rights (article 14, 19 and 21) guaranteed under our constitution. It is not that early but on the day of 6th September 2018 was when the Supreme Court ruled and declared its historic judgement by striking down and finally putting an end to the criminalization of section 377 in India. Like heterosexuals, even the homosexuals have the same right to privacy and live with dignity in the society. It is after the historic judgement that the homosexuals in India got its recognition as Natural and attained the right to live and love with pride and choice. It is only after this judgement that the people in India started opening up about the issue on homosexuality more in the public sphere which remained a taboo since a long time. The awareness in the Indian population regarding homosexuality is helping to cope, adjust and accept the homosexuals into the inclusive society yet prejudice and different negative attitude towards the homosexuals are taking place due to different cultures and lifestyles incorporated into most religions that becomes a source of conflict in the society. The prejudice of Homophobia may also stem from stigmatized conventional social construct, authoritarian parents with homophobic views and from the large mass of people who lacks the knowledge and understanding regarding sex and gender studies. The study aims to find out the people’s attitude towards the Homosexuals in today’s India. It aims to find out the knowledge and understanding of the people towards homosexuality and to analyze their hidden homophobia. For the basis of this study, an online-cross-sectional survey through questionnaire method was used. Snowball sampling method was designed with question relating to sex education, knowledge on homosexuality, attitude towards homosexuality and relevant details to study and analyze the perception and views of the Indian Society regarding homosexuals and the need to understand, recognize and articulate the issues in-depth sight of homophobia was brought into effect. The data was collected using Google forms. The participants had a fair and good knowledge towards homosexuality. They proclaimed a positive and supportive attitude towards the homosexuals. The study showed that the youth and adult population (within the age group of 18-35) were the major and active participants in the survey. The responses were mostly from educated class of people who are graduates from universities in India. The results were that the participants were well aware that homosexuals exist and their acceptance is plurally and equally just, fair and valid in a society; but the personal and cultural homophobia attached still pertains to live somewhere inside them. The issues won’t go away in a day. They are a product of centuries old stigma. To live in a more inclusive society we need to shed our innocence – deconstruct the theories of conventional homophobia; accept the reality and strive forward towards more equal, free and fair environment. Practical suggestions like good parenting and positive attitude towards the homosexuals should be practiced to help in the inclusion of them in the society. Steps to inculcate ‘gender and sex’ education in school syllabus must be prioritized so that children from the very beginning learn about their existence and divergence towards normalcy to accept the homosexuals becomes universal. Extended knowledge, awareness in form of workshop, seminars and webinars etc. to discuss and talk about the concerns of the homosexuals should be encouraged. The knowledge must be reached out to the public so that revolution in the rights and freedoms of the homosexuality take place at a faster rate. It is a long road ahead but it is not an impossible fight. Everyone, irrespective of their gender deserves the right to article 21 under the Indian constitution. Homosexuals deserve to live in an equal, just and dignified society. They must strongly be accepted to live with pride in a free and fearless India.

Introduction Most developed countries, including Australia, have a strong focus on national, state and local strategies for emergency management and response in the face of disasters and crises. This framework can include coping with catastrophic dislocation, service disruption, injury or loss of life in the face of natural disasters such as major fires, floods, earthquakes or other large-impact natural events, as well as dealing with similar catastrophes resulting from human actions such as bombs, biological agents, cyber-attacks targeting essential services such as communications networks, or other crises affecting large populations. Emergency management frameworks for crisis and disaster response are distinguished by their focus on the domestic context for such events; that is, how to manage and assist the ways in which civilian populations, who are for the most part inexperienced and untrained in dealing with crises and disasters, are able to respond and behave in such situations so as to minimise the impacts of a catastrophic event. Even in countries like Australia that demonstrate a strong public commitment to cultural pluralism and social cohesion, ethno-cultural diversity can be seen as a risk or threat to national security and values at times of political, natural, economic and/or social tensions and crises. Australian government policymakers have recently focused, with increasing intensity, on “community resilience” as a key element in countering extremism and enhancing emergency preparedness and response. In some sense, this is the result of a tacit acknowledgement by government agencies that there are limits to what they can do for domestic communities should such a catastrophic event occur, and accordingly, the focus in recent times has shifted to how governments can best help people to help themselves in such situations, a key element of the contemporary “resilience” approach. Yet despite the robustly multicultural nature of Australian society, explicit engagement with Australia’s cultural diversity flickers only fleetingly on this agenda, which continues to pursue approaches to community resilience in the absence of understandings about how these terms and formations may themselves need to be diversified to maximise engagement by all citizens in a multicultural polity. There have been some recent efforts in Australia to move in this direction, for example the Australian Emergency Management Institute (AEMI)’s recent suite of projects with culturally and linguistically diverse (CALD) communities (2006-2010) and the current Australia-New Zealand Counter-Terrorism Committee-supported project on “Harnessing Resilience Capital in Culturally Diverse Communities to Counter Violent Extremism” (Grossman and Tahiri), which I discuss in a longer forthcoming version of this essay (Grossman). Yet the understanding of ethno-cultural identity and difference that underlies much policy thinking on resilience remains problematic for the way in which it invests in a view of the cultural dimensions of community resilience as relic rather than resource – valorising the preservation of and respect for cultural norms and traditions, but silent on what different ethno-cultural communities might contribute toward expanded definitions of both “community” and “resilience” by virtue of the transformative potential and existing cultural capital they bring with them into new national and also translocal settings. For example, a primary conclusion of the joint program between AEMI and the Australian Multicultural Commission is that CALD communities are largely “vulnerable” in the context of disasters and emergency management and need to be better integrated into majority-culture models of theorising and embedding community resilience. This focus on stronger national integration and the “vulnerability” of culturally diverse ethno-cultural communities in the Australian context echoes the work of scholars beyond Australia such as McGhee, Mouritsen (Reflections, Citizenship) and Joppke. They argue that the “civic turn” in debates around resurgent contemporary nationalism and multicultural immigration policies privileges civic integration over genuine two-way multiculturalism. This approach sidesteps the transculturational (Ortiz; Welsch; Mignolo; Bennesaieh; Robins; Stein) aspects of contemporary social identities and exchange by paying lip-service to cultural diversity while affirming a neo-liberal construct of civic values and principles as a universalising goal of Western democratic states within a global market economy. It also suggests a superficial tribute to cultural diversity that does not embed diversity comprehensively at the levels of either conceptualising or resourcing different elements of Australian transcultural communities within the generalised framework of “community resilience.” And by emphasising cultural difference as vulnerability rather than as resource or asset, it fails to acknowledge the varieties of resilience capital that many culturally diverse individuals and communities may bring with them when they resettle in new environments, by ignoring the question of what “resilience” actually means to those from culturally diverse communities. In so doing, it also avoids the critical task of incorporating intercultural definitional diversity around the concepts of both “community” and “resilience” used to promote social cohesion and the capacity to recover from disasters and crises. How we might do differently in thinking about the broader challenges for multiculturalism itself as a resilient transnational concept and practice? The Concept of Resilience The meanings of resilience vary by disciplinary perspective. While there is no universally accepted definition of the concept, it is widely acknowledged that resilience refers to the capacity of an individual to do well in spite of exposure to acute trauma or sustained adversity (Liebenberg 219). Originating in the Latin word resilio, meaning ‘to jump back’, there is general consensus that resilience pertains to an individual’s, community’s or system’s ability to adapt to and ‘bounce back’ from a disruptive event (Mohaupt 63, Longstaff et al. 3). Over the past decade there has been a dramatic rise in interest in the clinical, community and family sciences concerning resilience to a broad range of adversities (Weine 62). While debate continues over which discipline can be credited with first employing resilience as a concept, Mohaupt argues that most of the literature on resilience cites social psychology and psychiatry as the origin for the concept beginning in the mid-20th century. The pioneer researchers of what became known as resilience research studied the impact on children living in dysfunctional families. For example, the findings of work by Garmezy, Werner and Smith and Rutter showed that about one third of children in these studies were coping very well despite considerable adversities and traumas. In asking what it was that prevented the children in their research from being negatively influenced by their home environments, such research provided the basis for future research on resilience. Such work was also ground-breaking for identifying the so-called ‘protective factors’ or resources that individuals can operationalise when dealing with adversity. In essence, protective factors are those conditions in the individual that protect them from the risk of dysfunction and enable recovery from trauma. They mitigate the effects of stressors or risk factors, that is, those conditions that predispose one to harm (Hajek 15). Protective factors include the inborn traits or qualities within an individual, those defining an individual’s environment, and also the interaction between the two. Together, these factors give people the strength, skills and motivation to cope in difficult situations and re-establish (a version of) ‘normal’ life (Gunnestad). Identifying protective factors is important in terms of understanding the particular resources a given sociocultural group has at its disposal, but it is also vital to consider the interconnections between various protective mechanisms, how they might influence each other, and to what degree. An individual, for instance, might display resilience or adaptive functioning in a particular domain (e.g. emotional functioning) but experience significant deficits in another (e.g. academic achievement) (Hunter 2). It is also essential to scrutinise how the interaction between protective factors and risk factors creates patterns of resilience. Finally, a comprehensive understanding of the interrelated nature of protective mechanisms and risk factors is imperative for designing effective interventions and tailored preventive strategies (Weine 65). In short, contemporary thinking about resilience suggests it is neither entirely personal nor strictly social, but an interactive and iterative combination of the two. It is a quality of the environment as much as the individual. For Ungar, resilience is the complex entanglements between “individuals and their social ecologies [that] will determine the degree of positive outcomes experienced” (3). Thinking about resilience as context-dependent is important because research that is too trait-based or actor-centred risks ignoring any structural or institutional forces. A more ecological interpretation of resilience, one that takes into a person’s context and environment into account, is vital in order to avoid blaming the victim for any hardships they face, or relieving state and institutional structures from their responsibilities in addressing social adversity, which can “emphasise self-help in line with a neo-conservative agenda instead of stimulating state responsibility” (Mohaupt 67). Nevertheless, Ungar posits that a coherent definition of resilience has yet to be developed that adequately ‘captures the dual focus of the individual and the individual’s social ecology and how the two must both be accounted for when determining the criteria for judging outcomes and discerning processes associated with resilience’ (7). Recent resilience research has consequently prompted a shift away from vulnerability towards protective processes — a shift that highlights the sustained capabilities of individuals and communities under threat or at risk. Locating ‘Culture’ in the Literature on Resilience However, an understanding of the role of culture has remained elusive or marginalised within this trend; there has been comparatively little sustained investigation into the applicability of resilience constructs to non-western cultures, or how the resources available for survival might differ from those accessible to western populations (Ungar 4). As such, a growing body of researchers is calling for more rigorous inquiry into culturally determined outcomes that might be associated with resilience in non-western or multicultural cultures and contexts, for example where Indigenous and minority immigrant communities live side by side with their ‘mainstream’ neighbours in western settings (Ungar 2). ‘Cultural resilience’ considers the role that cultural background plays in determining the ability of individuals and communities to be resilient in the face of adversity. For Clauss-Ehlers, the term describes the degree to which the strengths of one’s culture promote the development of coping (198). Culturally-focused resilience suggests that people can manage and overcome stress and trauma based not on individual characteristics alone, but also from the support of broader sociocultural factors (culture, cultural values, language, customs, norms) (Clauss-Ehlers 324). The innate cultural strengths of a culture may or may not differ from the strengths of other cultures; the emphasis here is not so much comparatively inter-cultural as intensively intra-cultural (VanBreda 215). A culturally focused resilience model thus involves “a dynamic, interactive process in which the individual negotiates stress through a combination of character traits, cultural background, cultural values, and facilitating factors in the sociocultural environment” (Clauss-Ehlers 199). In understanding ways of ‘coping and hoping, surviving and thriving’, it is thus crucial to consider how culturally and linguistically diverse minorities navigate the cultural understandings and assumptions of both their countries of origin and those of their current domicile (Ungar 12). Gunnestad claims that people who master the rules and norms of their new culture without abandoning their own language, values and social support are more resilient than those who tenaciously maintain their own culture at the expense of adjusting to their new environment. They are also more resilient than those who forego their own culture and assimilate with the host society (14). Accordingly, if the combination of both valuing one’s culture as well as learning about the culture of the new system produces greater resilience and adaptive capacities, serious problems can arise when a majority tries to acculturate a minority to the mainstream by taking away or not recognising important parts of the minority culture. In terms of resilience, if cultural factors are denied or diminished in accounting for and strengthening resilience – in other words, if people are stripped of what they possess by way of resilience built through cultural knowledge, disposition and networks – they do in fact become vulnerable, because ‘they do not automatically gain those cultural strengths that the majority has acquired over generations’ (Gunnestad 14). Mobilising ‘Culture’ in Australian Approaches to Community Resilience The realpolitik of how concepts of resilience and culture are mobilised is highly relevant here. As noted above, when ethnocultural difference is positioned as a risk or a threat to national identity, security and values, this is precisely the moment when vigorously, even aggressively, nationalised definitions of ‘community’ and ‘identity’ that minoritise or disavow cultural diversities come to the fore in public discourse. The Australian evocation of nationalism and national identity, particularly in the way it has framed policy discussion on managing national responses to disasters and threats, has arguably been more muted than some of the European hysteria witnessed recently around cultural diversity and national life. Yet we still struggle with the idea that newcomers to Australia might fall on the surplus rather than the deficit side of the ledger when it comes to identifying and harnessing resilience capital. A brief example of this trend is explored here. From 2006 to 2010, the Australian Emergency Management Institute embarked on an ambitious government-funded four-year program devoted to strengthening community resilience in relation to disasters with specific reference to engaging CALD communities across Australia. The program, Inclusive Emergency Management with CALD Communities, was part of a wider Australian National Action Plan to Build Social Cohesion, Harmony and Security in the wake of the London terrorist bombings in July 2005. Involving CALD community organisations as well as various emergency and disaster management agencies, the program ran various workshops and agency-community partnership pilots, developed national school education resources, and commissioned an evaluation of the program’s effectiveness (Farrow et al.). While my critique here is certainly not aimed at emergency management or disaster response agencies and personnel themselves – dedicated professionals who often achieve remarkable results in emergency and disaster response under extraordinarily difficult circumstances – it is nevertheless important to highlight how the assumptions underlying elements of AEMI’s experience and outcomes reflect the persistent ways in which ethnocultural diversity is rendered as a problem to be surmounted or a liability to be redressed, rather than as an asset to be built upon or a resource to be valued and mobilised. AEMI’s explicit effort to engage with CALD communities in building overall community resilience was important in its tacit acknowledgement that emergency and disaster services were (and often remain) under-resourced and under-prepared in dealing with the complexities of cultural diversity in emergency situations. Despite these good intentions, however, while the program produced some positive outcomes and contributed to crucial relationship building between CALD communities and emergency services within various jurisdictions, it also continued to frame the challenge of working with cultural diversity as a problem of increased vulnerability during disasters for recently arrived and refugee background CALD individuals and communities. This highlights a common feature in community resilience-building initiatives, which is to focus on those who are already ‘robust’ versus those who are ‘vulnerable’ in relation to resilience indicators, and whose needs may require different or additional resources in order to be met. At one level, this is a pragmatic resourcing issue: national agencies understandably want to put their people, energy and dollars where they are most needed in pursuit of a steady-state unified national response at times of crisis. Nor should it be argued that at least some CALD groups, particularly those from new arrival and refugee communities, are not vulnerable in at least some of the ways and for some of the reasons suggested in the program evaluation. However, the consistent focus on CALD communities as ‘vulnerable’ and ‘in need’ is problematic, as well as partial. It casts members of these communities as structurally and inherently less able and less resilient in the context of disasters and emergencies: in some sense, as those who, already ‘victims’ of chronic social deficits such as low English proficiency, social isolation and a mysterious unidentified set of ‘cultural factors’, can become doubly victimised in acute crisis and disaster scenarios. In what is by now a familiar trope, the description of CALD communities as ‘vulnerable’ precludes asking questions about what they do have, what they do know, and what they do or can contribute to how we respond to disaster and emergency events in our communities. A more profound problem in this sphere revolves around working out how best to engage CALD communities and individuals within existing approaches to disaster and emergency preparedness and response. This reflects a fundamental but unavoidable limitation of disaster preparedness models: they are innately spatially and geographically bounded, and consequently understand ‘communities’ in these terms, rather than expanding definitions of ‘community’ to include the dimensions of community-as-social-relations. While some good engagement outcomes were achieved locally around cross-cultural knowledge for emergency services workers, the AEMI program fell short of asking some of the harder questions about how emergency and disaster service scaffolding and resilience-building approaches might themselves need to change or transform, using a cross-cutting model of ‘communities’ as both geographic places and multicultural spaces (Bartowiak-Théron and Crehan) in order to be more effective in national scenarios in which cultural diversity should be taken for granted. Toward Acknowledgement of Resilience Capital Most significantly, the AEMI program did not produce any recognition of the ways in which CALD communities already possess resilience capital, or consider how this might be drawn on in formulating stronger community initiatives around disaster and threats preparedness for the future. Of course, not all individuals within such communities, nor all communities across varying circumstances, will demonstrate resilience, and we need to be careful of either overgeneralising or romanticising the kinds and degrees of ‘resilience capital’ that may exist within them. Nevertheless, at least some have developed ways of withstanding crises and adapting to new conditions of living. This is particularly so in connection with individual and group behaviours around resource sharing, care-giving and social responsibility under adverse circumstances (Grossman and Tahiri) – all of which are directly relevant to emergency and disaster response. While some of these resilient behaviours may have been nurtured or enhanced by particular experiences and environments, they can, as the discussion of recent literature above suggests, also be rooted more deeply in cultural norms, habits and beliefs. Whatever their origins, for culturally diverse societies to achieve genuine resilience in the face of both natural and human-made disasters, it is critical to call on the ‘social memory’ (Folke et al.) of communities faced with responding to emergencies and crises. Such wellsprings of social memory ‘come from the diversity of individuals and institutions that draw on reservoirs of practices, knowledge, values, and worldviews and is crucial for preparing the system for change, building resilience, and for coping with surprise’ (Adger et al.). Consequently, if we accept the challenge of mapping an approach to cultural diversity as resource rather than relic into our thinking around strengthening community resilience, there are significant gains to be made. For a whole range of reasons, no diversity-sensitive model or measure of resilience should invest in static understandings of ethnicities and cultures; all around the world, ethnocultural identities and communities are in a constant and sometimes accelerated state of dynamism, reconfiguration and flux. But to ignore the resilience capital and potential protective factors that ethnocultural diversity can offer to the strengthening of community resilience more broadly is to miss important opportunities that can help suture the existing disconnects between proactive approaches to intercultural connectedness and social inclusion on the one hand, and reactive approaches to threats, national security and disaster response on the other, undermining the effort to advance effectively on either front. This means that dominant social institutions and structures must be willing to contemplate their own transformation as the result of transcultural engagement, rather than merely insisting, as is often the case, that ‘other’ cultures and communities conform to existing hegemonic paradigms of being and of living. In many ways, this is the most critical step of all. A resilience model and strategy that questions its own culturally informed yet taken-for-granted assumptions and premises, goes out into communities to test and refine these, and returns to redesign its approach based on the new knowledge it acquires, would reflect genuine progress toward an effective transculturational approach to community resilience in culturally diverse contexts.References Adger, W. Neil, Terry P. Hughes, Carl Folke, Stephen R. 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Menomonie, Wisconsin, 2003. Hunter, Cathryn. “Is Resilience Still a Useful Concept When Working with Children and Young People?” Child Family Community Australia (CFA) Paper 2. Melbourne: Australian Institute of Family Studies, 2012.Joppke, Christian. "Beyond National Models: Civic Integration Policies for Immigrants in Western Europe". West European Politics 30.1 (2007): 1-22. Liebenberg, Linda, Michael Ungar, and Fons van de Vijver. “Validation of the Child and Youth Resilience Measure-28 (CYRM-28) among Canadian Youth.” Research on Social Work Practice 22.2 (2012): 219-226. Longstaff, Patricia H., Nicholas J. Armstrong, Keli Perrin, Whitney May Parker, and Matthew A. Hidek. “Building Resilient Communities: A Preliminary Framework for Assessment.” Homeland Security Affairs 6.3 (2010): 1-23. ‹http://www.hsaj.org/?fullarticle=6.3.6>. McGhee, Derek. The End of Multiculturalism? Terrorism, Integration and Human Rights. Maidenhead: Open U P, 2008.Mignolo, Walter. Local Histories/Global Designs: Coloniality, Subaltern Knowledges, and Border Thinking. Princeton: Princeton U P, 2000. Mohaupt, Sarah. “Review Article: Resilience and Social Exclusion.” Social Policy and Society 8 (2009): 63-71.Mouritsen, Per. "The Culture of Citizenship: A Reflection on Civic Integration in Europe." Ed. R. Zapata-Barrero. Citizenship Policies in the Age of Diversity: Europe at the Crossroad." Barcelona: CIDOB Foundation, 2009: 23-35. Mouritsen, Per. “Political Responses to Cultural Conflict: Reflections on the Ambiguities of the Civic Turn.” Ed. P. Mouritsen and K.E. Jørgensen. Constituting Communities. Political Solutions to Cultural Conflict, London: Palgrave, 2008. 1-30. Ortiz, Fernando. Cuban Counterpoint: Tobacco and Sugar. Trans. Harriet de Onís. Intr. Fernando Coronil and Bronislaw Malinowski. Durham, NC: Duke U P, 1995 [1940]. Robins, Kevin. The Challenge of Transcultural Diversities: Final Report on the Transversal Study on Cultural Policy and Cultural Diversity. Culture and Cultural Heritage Department. Strasbourg: Council of European Publishing, 2006. Rutter, Michael. “Protective Factors in Children’s Responses to Stress and Disadvantage.” Annals of the Academy of Medicine, Singapore 8 (1979): 324-38. Stein, Mark. “The Location of Transculture.” Transcultural English Studies: Fictions, Theories, Realities. Eds. F. Schulze-Engler and S. Helff. Cross/Cultures 102/ANSEL Papers 12. Amsterdam and New York: Rodopi, 2009. 251-266. Ungar, Michael. “Resilience across Cultures.” British Journal of Social Work 38.2 (2008): 218-235. First published online 2006: 1-18. In-text references refer to the online Advance Access edition ‹http://bjsw.oxfordjournals.org/content/early/2006/10/18/bjsw.bcl343.full.pdf>. VanBreda, Adrian DuPlessis. Resilience Theory: A Literature Review. Erasmuskloof: South African Military Health Service, Military Psychological Institute, Social Work Research & Development, 2001. Weine, Stevan. “Building Resilience to Violent Extremism in Muslim Diaspora Communities in the United States.” Dynamics of Asymmetric Conflict 5.1 (2012): 60-73. Welsch, Wolfgang. “Transculturality: The Puzzling Form of Cultures Today.” Spaces of Culture: City, Nation World. Eds. M. Featherstone and S. Lash. London: Sage, 1999. 194-213. Werner, Emmy E., and Ruth S. Smith. Vulnerable But Invincible: A Longitudinal Study of\ Resilience and Youth. New York: McGraw Hill, 1982. NotesThe concept of ‘resilience capital’ I offer here is in line with one strand of contemporary theorising around resilience – that of resilience as social or socio-ecological capital – but moves beyond the idea of enhancing general social connectedness and community cohesion by emphasising the ways in which culturally diverse communities may already be robustly networked and resourceful within micro-communal settings, with new resources and knowledge both to draw on and to offer other communities or the ‘national community’ at large. In effect, ‘resilience capital’ speaks to the importance of finding ‘the communities within the community’ (Bartowiak-Théron and Crehan 11) and recognising their capacity to contribute to broad-scale resilience and recovery.I am indebted for the discussion of the literature on resilience here to Dr Peta Stephenson, Centre for Cultural Diversity and Wellbeing, Victoria University, who is working on a related project (M. Grossman and H. Tahiri, Harnessing Resilience Capital in Culturally Diverse Communities to Counter Violent Extremism, forthcoming 2014).

IntroductionFestivals, according to Chris Gibson and John Connell, are like “glue”, temporarily sticking together various stakeholders, economic transactions, and networks (9). Australia’s First Nations peoples see festivals as an opportunity to display cultural vitality (Henry 586), and to challenge a history which has rendered them absent (587). The 2017 Australia Council for the Arts Showcasing Creativity report indicates that performing arts by First Nations peoples are under-represented in Australia’s mainstream venues and festivals (1). Large Aboriginal cultural festivals have long thrived in Australia’s northern half, but have been under-developed in the south. Each regional happening develops a cultural landscape connected to a long and intimate relationship with the natural environment.The Far South East coast and mountainous hinterland of New South Wales is rich in pristine landscapes that ground the Yuin and Monaro Nations to Country as the Monaroo Bobberrer Gadu (Peoples of the Mountains and the Sea). This article highlights cross-sector interaction between Koori and mainstream organisations in producing the Giiyong (Guy-Yoong/Welcoming) Festival. This, the first large festival to be held within the Yuin Nation, took place on Aboriginal-owned land at Jigamy, via Eden, on 22 September 2018. Emerging regional artists joined national headline acts, most notably No Fixed Address (one of the earliest Aboriginal bands to break into the Australian mainstream music industry), and hip-hop artist Baker Boy (Danzal Baker, Young Australian of the Year 2019). The festival followed five years of sustained community preparation by South East Arts in association with Grow the Music, Twofold Aboriginal Corporation, the Eden Local Aboriginal Land Council, and its Elders. We offer dual understandings of the Giiyong Festival: the viewpoints of a male Yuin Elder wedded to an Australian woman of European descent. We acknowledge, and rely upon, key information, statistics, and photographs provided by the staff of South East Arts including Andrew Gray (General Manager), Jasmin Williams (Aboriginal Creative and Cultural Engagement Officer and Giiyong Festival Project Manager), and Kate Howarth (Screen Industry Development Officer). We are also grateful to Wiradjuri woman Alison Simpson (Program Manager at Twofold Aboriginal Corporation) for valuable feedback. As community leaders from First Nations and non-First Nations backgrounds, Simpson and Williams complement each other’s talents for empowering Indigenous communities. They plan a 2020 follow-up event on the basis of the huge success of the 2018 festival.The case study is informed by our personal involvement with community. Since the general population barely comprehends the number and diversity of Australia’s Indigenous ‘nations’, the burgeoning Indigenous festival movement encourages First Nations and non-First Nations peoples alike to openly and confidently refer to the places they live in according to Indigenous names, practices, histories, and knowledge. Consequently, in the mental image of a map of the island-continent, the straight lines and names of state borders fade as the colours of the Indigenous ‘Countries’ (represented by David Horton’s wall map of 1996) come to the foreground. We reason that, in terms of ‘regionality,’ the festival’s expressions of “the agency of country” (Slater 141) differ vastly from the centre-periphery structure and logic of the Australian colony. There is no fixed centre to the mutual exchange of knowledge, culture, and experience in Aboriginal Australia. The broader implication of this article is that Indigenous cultural festivals allow First Nations peoples cultures—in moments of time—to assume precedence, that is to ‘stitch’ back together the notion of a continent made up of hundreds of countries, as against the exploitative structure of ‘hub and region’ colonial Australia.Festival Concepts and ContextsHoward Becker observed that cultural production results from an interplay between the person of the artist and a multitude of support personnel whose work is not frequently studied: “It is through this network of cooperation that the art work we eventually see or hear comes to be and continues to be” (1). In assisting arts and culture throughout the Bega Valley, Eurobodalla, and Snowy Monaro, South East Arts delivers positive achievements in the Aboriginal arts and cultural sector. Their outcomes are significant in the light of the dispossession, segregation, and discrimination experienced by Aboriginal Australians. Michael Young, assisted by Indigenous authors Ellen Mundy and Debbie Mundy, recorded how Delegate Reserve residents relocating to the coast were faced with having their lives controlled by a Wallaga Lake Reserve manager or with life on the fringes of the towns in shacks (2–3). But as discovered in the records, “their retention of traditional beliefs, values and customs, reveal that the accommodation they were forced to make with the Europeans did not mean they had surrendered. The proof of this is the persistence of their belief in the value of their culture” (3–4). The goal of the Twofold Aboriginal Corporation is to create an inclusive place where Aboriginal people of the Twofold Bay Region can be proud of their heritage, connect with the local economy, and create a real future for their children. When Simpson told Williams of the Twofold Aboriginal Corporation’s and Eden Local Aboriginal Land Council’s dream of housing a large cultural festival at Jigamy, Williams rigorously consulted local Indigenous organisations to build a shared sense of community ownership of the event. She promoted the festival as “a rare opportunity in our region to learn about Aboriginal culture and have access to a huge program of Aboriginal musicians, dancers, visual artists, authors, academics, storytellers, cooks, poets, creative producers, and films” (McKnight).‘Uncle Ossie’ Cruse of Eden envisaged that the welcoming event would enliven the longstanding caring and sharing ethos of the Yuin-Monaro people. Uncle Ossie was instrumental in establishing Jigamy’s majestic Monaroo Bobberrer Gudu Keeping Place with the Eden Local Aboriginal Land Council in 1994. Built brick by brick by Indigenous workers, it is a centre for the teaching and celebration of Aboriginal culture, and for the preservation of artefacts. It represents the local community's determination to find their own solutions for “bridging the gap” by creating education and employment opportunities. The centre is also the gateway to the Bundian Way, the first Aboriginal pathway to be listed on the NSW State Heritage Register. Festival Lead-Up EventsEden’s Indigenous students learn a revived South Coast language at Primary and Secondary School. In 2015, Uncle Ossie vitally informed their input into The Black Ducks, a hip-hop song filmed in Eden by Desert Pea Media. A notable event boosting Koori musical socialisation was a Giiyong Grow the Music spectacle performed at Jigamy on 28 October 2017. Grow the Music—co-founded by Lizzy Rutten and Emily White—specialises in mentoring Indigenous artists in remote areas using digital recording equipment. Eden Marine High School students co-directed the film Scars as part of a programme of events with South East Arts and the Giiyong Festival 2018. The Eden Place Project and Campbell Page also create links between in- and out-of-school activities. Eden’s Indigenous students thus perform confidently at NAIDOC Week celebrations and at various festivals. Preparation and PersonnelAn early decision was made to allow free entry to the Giiyong Festival in order to attract a maximum number of Indigenous families. The prospect necessitated in-kind support from Twofold Aboriginal Corporation staff. They galvanised over 100 volunteers to enhance the unique features of Jigamy, while Uncle Ossie slashed fields of bushes to prepare copious parking space. The festival site was spatially focused around two large stages dedicated to the memory of two strong supporters of cultural creativity: Aunty Doris Kirby, and Aunty Liddy Stewart (Image 1). Image 1: Uncle Ossie Cruse Welcomes Festival-Goers to Country on the Aunty Liddy Stewart Stage. Image Credit: David Rogers for South East Arts, Reproduction Courtesy of South East Arts.Cultural festivals are peaceful weapons in a continuing ontological political contest (Slater 144). In a panel discussion, Uncle Ossie explained and defended the Makarrata: the call for a First Nations Voice to be enshrined in the Constitution.Williams also contracted artists with a view to capturing the past and present achievements of Aboriginal music. Apart from her brilliant centrepiece acts No Fixed Address and Baker Boy, she attracted Pitjantjatjara singer Frank Yamma (Image 2), Yorta Yorta singer/songwriter Benny Walker, the Central Desert Docker River Band, and Jessie Lloyd’s nostalgic Mission Songs Project. These stellar acts were joined by Wallaga Lake performers Robbie Bundle, Warren Foster, and Alison Walker as well as Nathan Lygon (Eden), Chelsy Atkins (Pambula), Gabadoo (Bermagui), and Drifting Doolgahls (Nowra). Stage presentations were technologically transformed by the live broadcast of acts on large screens surrounding the platforms. Image 2: Singer-Songwriter Frank Yamma Performs at Giiyong Festival 2018. Image Credit: David Rogers for South East Arts, Reproduction Courtesy of South East Arts.Giiyong Music and Dance Music and dance form the staple components of Indigenous festivals: a reflection on the cultural strength of ancient ceremony. Hundreds of Yuin-Monaro people once attended great corroborees on Mumbulla Mountain (Horton 1235), and oral history recorded by Janet Mathews evidences ceremonies at Fishy Flats, Eden, in the 1850s. Today’s highly regarded community musicians and dancers perform the social arrangements of direct communication, sometimes including their children on stage as apprentices. But artists are still negotiating the power structures through which they experience belonging and detachment in the representation of their musical identity.Youth gain positive identities from participating alongside national headline acts—a form of learning that propels talented individuals into performing careers. The One Mob Dreaming Choir of Koori students from three local schools were a popular feature (Image 3), as were Eden Marine student soloists Nikai Stewart, and Nikea Brooks. Grow the Music in particular has enabled these youngsters to exhibit the roots of their culture in a deep and touching way that contributes to their life-long learning and development. Image 3: The One Mob Dreaming Choir, Directed by Corinne Gibbons (L) and Chelsy Atkins (R). Image Credit: David Rogers for South East Arts, Reproduction Courtesy of South East Arts. Brydie-Leigh Bartleet describes how discourses of pride emerge when Indigenous Australian youth participate in hip-hop. At the Giiyong Festival the relationship between musical expression, cultural representation, and political positioning shone through the songs of Baker Boy and Gabadoo (Image 4). Channelling emotions into song, they led young audiences to engage with contemporary themes of Indigeneity. The drones launched above the carpark established a numerical figure close on 6,000 attendees, a third of whom were Indigenous. Extra teenagers arrived in time for Baker Boy’s evening performance (Williams), revealing the typical youthful audience composition associated with the hip-hop craze (Image 5).Image 4: Bermagui Resident Gabadoo Performs Hip-Hop at the Giiyong Festival. Image Credit: David Rogers for South East Arts, Reproduced Courtesy South East Arts.Image 5: A Youthful Audience Enjoys Baker Boy’s Giiyong Festival Performance. Image Credit: David Rogers for South East Arts, Reproduced Courtesy South East Arts.Wallaga Lake’s traditional Gulaga Dancers were joined by Bermagui’s Gadhu Dancers, Eden’s Duurunu Miru Dancers, and Narooma’s Djaadjawan Dancers. Sharon Mason founded Djaadjawan Dancers in 2015. Their cultural practice connects to the environment and Mingagia (Mother Earth). At their festival tent, dancers explained how they gather natural resources from Walbanja Country to hand-make traditional dance outfits, accessories, and craft. They collect nuts, seeds, and bark from the bush, body paint from ancient ochre pits, shells from beaches, and bird feathers from fresh roadkill. Duurunu Miru dancer/didjeriduist Nathan Lygon elaborates on the functions of the Far South East Coast dance performance tradition:Dance provides us with a platform, an opportunity to share our stories, our culture, and our way of being. It demonstrates a beautiful positivity—a feeling of connection, celebration, and inclusion. The community needs it. And our young people need a ‘space’ in which they can grow into the knowledge and practices of their culture. The festival also helped the wider community to learn more about these dimensions. (n.p.)While music and dance were at the heart of the festival, other traditional skills were included, for example the exhibitions mounted inside the Keeping Place featured a large number of visual artists. Traditional bush cooking took place near Lake Pambula, and yarn-ups, poetry, and readings were featured throughout the day. Cultural demonstrations in the Bunaan Ring (the Yuin name for a corroboree circle) included ‘Gum Leaf Playing.’ Robin Ryan explained how the Yuin’s use of cultural elements to entertain settlers (Cameron 79) led to the formation of the Wallaga Lake Gum Leaf Band. As the local custodian of this unique musical practice, Uncle Ossie performed items and conducted a workshop for numerous adults and children. Festival Feedback and Future PlanningThe Giiyong Festival gained huge Indigenous cultural capital. Feedback gleaned from artists, sponsors, supporters, volunteers, and audiences reflected on how—from the moment the day began—the spirit of so many performers and consumers gathered in one place took over. The festival’s success depended on its reception, for as Myers suggests: “It is the audience who create the response to performance and if the right chemistry is achieved the performers react and excel in their presentation” (59). The Bega District News, of 24 September 2018, described the “incredibly beautiful event” (n.p.), while Simpson enthused to the authors:I believe that the amount of people who came through the gates to attend the Giiyong Festival was a testament to the wider need and want for Aboriginal culture. Having almost double the population of Eden attend also highlights that this event was long overdue. (n.p.)Williams reported that the whole festival was “a giant exercise in the breaking down of walls. Some signed contracts for the first time, and all met their contracts professionally. National artists Baker Boy and No Fixed Address now keep in touch with us regularly” (Williams). Williams also expressed her delight that local artists are performing further afield this year, and that an awareness, recognition, and economic impact has been created for Jigamy, the Giiyong Festival, and Eden respectively:We believe that not only celebrating, but elevating these artists and Aboriginal culture, is one of the most important things South East Arts can do for the overall arts sector in the region. This work benefits artists, the economy and cultural tourism of the region. Most importantly it feeds our collective spirit, educates us, and creates a much richer place to live. (Giiyong Festival Report 1)Howarth received 150 responses to her post-event survey. All respondents felt welcome, included, and willing to attend another festival. One commented, “not even one piece of rubbish on the ground.” Vanessa Milton, ABC Open Producer for South East NSW, wrote: “Down to the tiniest detail it was so obvious that you understood the community, the audience, the performers and how to bring everyone together. What a coup to pull off this event, and what a gift to our region” (Giiyong Festival Report 4).The total running cost for the event was $257,533, including $209,606 in government grants from local, state, and federal agencies. Major donor Create NSW Regional Partnerships funded over $100,000, and State Aboriginal Affairs gave $6,000. Key corporate sponsors included Bendigo Bank, Snowy Hydro and Waterway Constructions, Local Land Services Bega, and the Eden Fisherman’s Club. Funding covered artists’ fees, staging, the hiring of toilets, and multiple generators, including delivery costs. South East Arts were satisfied with the funding amount: each time a new donation arrived they were able to invite more performers (Giiyong Festival Report 2; Gray; Williams). South East Arts now need to prove they have the leadership capacity, financial self-sufficiency, and material resources to produce another festival. They are planning 2020 will be similar to 2018, provided Twofold Aboriginal Corporation can provide extra support. Since South East Arts exists to service a wider area of NSW, they envisage that by 2024, they would hand over the festival to Twofold Aboriginal Corporation (Gray; Williams). Forthcoming festivals will not rotate around other venues because the Giiyong concept was developed Indigenously at Jigamy, and “Jigamy has the vibe” (Williams). Uncle Ossie insists that the Yuin-Monaro feel comfortable being connected to Country that once had a traditional campsite on the east side. Evaluation and ConclusionAlthough ostensibly intended for entertainment, large Aboriginal festivals significantly benefit the educational, political, and socio-economic landscape of contemporary Indigenous life. The cultural outpourings and dissemination of knowledges at the 2018 Giiyong Festival testified to the resilience of the Yuin-Monaro people. In contributing to the processes of Reconciliation and Recognition, the event privileged the performing arts as a peaceful—yet powerful truth-telling means—for dealing with the state. Performers representing the cultures of far-flung ancestral lands contributed to the reimagining of a First Nations people’s map representing hundreds of 'Countries.’It would be beneficial for the Far South East region to perpetuate the Giiyong Festival. It energised all those involved. But it took years of preparation and a vast network of cooperating people to create the feeling which made the 2018 festival unique. Uncle Ossie now sees aspects of the old sharing culture of his people springing back to life to mould the quality of life for families. Furthermore, the popular arts cultures are enhancing the quality of life for Eden youth. As the cross-sector efforts of stakeholders and volunteers so amply proved, a family-friendly, drug and alcohol-free event of the magnitude of the Giiyong Festival injects new growth into an Aboriginal arts industry designed for the future creative landscape of the whole South East region. AcknowledgementsMany thanks to Andrew Gray and Jasmin Williams for supplying a copy of the 2018 Giiyong Festival Report. We appreciated prompt responses to queries from Jasmin Williams, and from our editor Rachel Franks. We are humbly indebted to our two reviewers for their expert direction.ReferencesAustralian Government. Showcasing Creativity: Programming and Presenting First Nations Performing Arts. Australia Council for the Arts Report, 8 Mar. 2017. 20 May 2019 <https://tnn.org.au/2017/03/showcasing-creativity-programming-and-presenting-first-nations-performing-arts-australia-council/>.Bartleet, Brydie-Leigh. “‘Pride in Self, Pride in Community, Pride in Culture’: The Role of Stylin’ Up in Fostering Indigenous Community and Identity.” The Festivalization of Culture. Eds. Andy Bennett, Jodie Taylor, and Ian Woodward. New York: Routledge, 2014.Becker, Howard S. Art Worlds. 25th anniversary edition. Berkeley: U of California P, 2008.Brown, Bill. “The Monaroo Bubberer [Bobberer] Gudu Keeping Place: A Symbol of Aboriginal Self-determination.” ABC South East NSW, 9 Jul. 2015. 20 May 2019 <http://www.abc.net.au/local/photos/2015/07/09/4270480.htm>.Cameron, Stuart. "An Investigation of the History of the Aborigines of the Far South Coast of NSW in the 19th Century." PhD Thesis. Canberra: Australian National U, 1987. Desert Pea Media. The Black Ducks “People of the Mountains and the Sea.” <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8fbJNHAdbkg>.“Festival Fanfare.” Eden Magnet 28 June 2018. 1 Mar. 2019 <edenmagnet.com.au>.Gibson, Chris, and John Connell. Music Festivals and Regional Development in Australia. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2012.Gray, Andrew. Personal Communication, 28 Mar. 2019.Henry, Rosita. “Festivals.” The Oxford Companion to Aboriginal Art and Culture. Eds. Syvia Kleinert and Margot Neale. South Melbourne: Oxford UP, 586–87.Horton, David R. “Yuin.” Encyclopaedia of Aboriginal Australia. Ed. David R. Horton. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press, 1994.———. Aboriginal Australia Wall Map Compiled by David Horton. Aboriginal Studies Press, 1996.Lygon, Nathan. Personal Communication, 20 May 2019.Mathews, Janet. Albert Thomas Mentions the Leaf Bands That Used to Play in the Old Days. Cassette recorded at Wreck Bay, NSW on 9 July 1964 for the Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders (AIATSIS). LAA1013. McKnight, Albert. “Giiyong Festival the First of Its Kind in Yuin Nation.” Bega District News 17 Sep. 2018. 1 Mar. 2019 <https://www.begadistrictnews.com.au/story/5649214/giiyong-festival-the-first-of-its-kind-in-yuin-nation/?cs=7523#slide=2>. ———. “Giiyong Festival Celebrates Diverse, Enduring Cultures.” Bega District News 24 Sep. 2018. 1 Mar. 2019 <https://www.begadistrictnews.com.au/story/5662590/giiyong-festival-celebrates-diverse-enduring-cultures-photos-videos/>.Myers, Doug. “The Fifth Festival of Pacific Arts.” Australian Aboriginal Studies 1 (1989): 59–62.Simpson, Alison. Personal Communication, 9 Apr. 2019.Slater, Lisa. “Sovereign Bodies: Australian Indigenous Cultural Festivals and Flourishing Lifeworlds.” The Festivalization of Culture. Eds. Andy Bennett, Jodie Taylor, and Ian Woodward. London: Ashgate, 2014. 131–46.South East Arts. "Giiyong Festival Report." Bega: South East Arts, 2018.———. Giiyong Grow the Music. Poster for Event Produced on Saturday, 28 Oct. 2017. Bega: South East Arts, 2017.Williams, Jasmin. Personal Communication, 28 Mar. 2019.Young, Michael, with Ellen, and Debbie Mundy. The Aboriginal People of the Monaro: A Documentary History. Sydney: NSW National Parks and Wildlife Service, 2000.

Along with all the other baggage the British brought with them to Port Jackson in 1788 were laws of ownership that were totally foreign to the original inhabitants. The particular law I'll consider here is that of copyright. The result of a few hundred years of evolution, moulded by the common law and acts of Parliament, copyright protects the intellectual property of writers and artists (Saunders). It has three requirements: originality, material form and identifiable author. However, superimposed on the creative practices of the original inhabitants of Australia, copyright has proved a dismal failure. Its inability to continue its evolution means that it does not serve Indigenous Australians, whose creative practices do not fit neatly within its confines. The notions of 'rights' or 'ownership' inherent in current copyright law do not reflect, and are therefore unable to protect, Indigenous intellectual property. The limits of protection are summed up by Janke et al: '[c]ommercial interests are protected … rather than interests pertaining to cultural integrity … [r]ights are valid for a limited period … whereas under Indigenous laws, they exist in perpetuity. Individual notions of ownership are recognised, rather than the Indigenous concept of communal ownership' (Janke 1997). Practical effects of these limitations are the loss of copyright of stories written down or electronically recorded by outsiders, and the absence of special consideration for, or protection of, secret or sacred material (Janke 1997). Mansell notes that Aboriginal intellectual property rights are poorly protected by current laws be they copyright, patent, plant breeders, design laws or trademarks where 'the creative customs and practices of Aborigines' are different to those of whites, who 'emphasise the individual and provide the mechanisms for the commercialisation of an individual's activity. The traditional base of Aboriginal art forms was not created with this in mind' (Mansell 196). Indigenous cultures have their own systems for the protection of intellectual property which are predicated not on the protection of commercial advantage but on the meaning and cultural integrity of the work of art (Janke 1996 15; 1998a 4). Some of these so-called works of art are, in fact, 'law bearers'; these 'Indigenous traditional cultural productions are … legal titles to clan land' (Morris 6). Ignoring this meaning of cultural productions is a little like your bank manager framing your mortgage document or rental agreement for its aesthetic qualities, and evicting you from your house. While copyright law does acknowledge legally-defined entities like corporations or government departments as copyright holders, it is too limited in its definitions to recognise the complex familial relationships and reciprocal responsibilities of Aboriginal society. Under Indigenous laws 'individuals are differentiated in their awareness of elements of the local culture and in the way they make use of those elements depending on such things as their sex, their moiety or skin group, and their initiatory status' (Johnson 10). Given the complex nature of Indigenous attitudes to rights in and ownership of intellectual property, those concerned with questions of fairness in the administration of copyright law must take a new perspective. While copyright law appears, in the main, to have been unable to deal with a system of law which pre-dates it by thousands of years, there have recently been some tentative steps towards a recognition of Indigenous concerns. Golvan, acknowledging that much work needs to be done 'to ensure that the legal system is meaningful to Aboriginal people', sees some aspects of the judgement in the Carpets Case1 which 'show a strong determination to seek to unite Western copyright principles with the need to deal with issues of indigenous cultural harm' (Golvan 10). And, in Foster v Mountford 1976 (discussed below), Justice Muirhead noted that 'revelation of the secrets [contained in the offending book] … may undermine the social and religious stability of [the] hard-pressed community' (quoted in McDonald 24). These examples show some willingness on the part of the courts to take into account matters which fall outside of common law. While there has as yet been very little litigation regarding copyright ownership of written works, there is no reason to assume that this situation will continue. The first case of infringement of Aboriginal copyright to surface in the media occurred in 1966, when David Malangi's painting 'The Hunter' was adapted without permission as part of the design for the new one-dollar note (Johnson 13). Ten years later, the Pitjantjatjara Council was involved in litigation with Dr Mountford, 'an anthropologist who had been given information by the Pitjantjatjara people … in 1940 … about tribal sites and objects, communal legends, secrets, paintings, engravings, drawings and totemic geography' (McDonald 23). Interestingly, this particular case relied not on copyright law but on a breach of confidence as 'the material … was not protected by copyright, being material in which copyright either did not subsist, or in which copyright had expired' (23). This is a good example of the lack of protection afforded by copyright law to intellectual property of religious and spiritual significance.2 At first glance, the implications of the 1992 Mabo land rights case for publishing in Australia today might seem remote. However, some of the implications of this historic case hold the potential for a new approach to intellectual property rights which may actually serve the interests of Indigenous artists and writers. The importance to intellectual property rights of the Mabo decision lies in the fact that 'the Court held that … local law remains in place except to the extent that it may be in conflict with British law, and until it is over-ruled by the colonisers' 3 (McDonald 26). This meant that not only the myth of terra nullius was repudiated, but with it any notion that Australia was 'either a wild and lawless place or a legal blank slate. Indigenous customary law … was thereby given both recognition and validity' (26). Gray goes further than this, and states in relation to native title and Aboriginal art: 'the two in fact are quite inseparable if not exactly the same' (Gray 12). This statement strongly emphasises Morris' concerns expressed above, regarding the diminution of authority of 'cultural productions' when they are perceived as merely artistic objects. Pearson, in discussing Mabo, talks of native title as the 'recognition space' 4 between common law and Aboriginal law (Pearson 154). He points out that Aboriginal law exists, is practised is in fact a 'social reality', and adds that 'it is fictitious to assume that Aboriginal law is extinguished where the common law is unable to recognise that law' 5 (155). Recently the Australian Society of Authors (Heiss) prepared two discussion papers and a checklist for non-Indigenous writers who want to write about Indigenous culture. One of the papers, 'Australian Copyright vs Indigenous Intellectual and Cultural Property Rights', reiterates the point that the Copyright Act 1968 'as it stands is unsuited to protecting Indigenous culture'. It briefly discusses the desirability of the sharing of copyright between the Indigenous storyteller or informant and their non-Indigenous collaborator an issue I will examine in greater depth in my thesis on cross-cultural editing. A problematic practice, shared copyright deals with 'ownership' in a way that satisfies white or western conceptions but may compromise the Indigenous sense of (Indigenous) communal title to the work. The importance of effective copyright law for Indigenous Australians goes beyond the earning of royalties or the commercial 'ownership' of creative work: it refers to the protection of their cultural heritage (Heiss). One solution suggested by Janke is an amendment to 'the Copyright Act to provide moral rights (rights of attribution, no false attribution and cultural integrity)' (in Heiss). Another possible, though longer term solution, may lie in the way common law itself develops. It has evolved over time, albeit slowly, to suit the needs of the particular environment economic, technological, cultural or other in which it has to operate. As Ginsberg remarks in the context of the introduction of moral rights law to two common law countries, the US and Australia, regarding the gradual adoption of moral rights: 'a Common Law approach to moral rights … slowly builds up to the general principle from gritty examples worked out fact-by-fact. This accretion method is familiar to both our countries' legal approaches' (Ginsberg 34). This same accretion method could be used to change copyright law so that it more adequately protects Indigenous intellectual property. Whatever solution is reached, at present the copyright laws are colour-blind when presented with the complex and alien nature of Indigenous cultural practice. In the interests of reconciliation, natural justice and the integrity of Indigenous culture, reform cannot come too soon. NOTES 1. Milpurrurru v Indofurn Pty Ltd, 1995; an Australian company copied and adapted various Indigenous works of art and had them woven into carpets in Vietnam, and imported into Australia. Permission to use the designs was never sought. An award of almost $200,000 was made to the 8 artists involved, and the offending carpets were withdrawn from sale. By 1996, Indofurn had been wound up and the director declared bankrupt: the artists have not received a cent. (Janke 1998b 9). 2. Fortunately for the Pitjantjatjara elders, the court held that Mountford's book did constitute a breach of confidence. 3. 'The Court held that the rights of Indigenous inhabitants of a colony are the same as the rights of a conquered nation: local law remains in place except to the extent that it may be in conflict with British law, and until it is over-ruled by the colonisers' (McDonald 26). 4. 'Native title is therefore the space between the two systems, where there is recognition. Native title is, for want of a better formulation the recognition space between the common law and the Aboriginal law which now afforded recognition in particular circumstances' (Pearson 154). 5. However, some cases subsequent to Mabo place limitations upon the recognition of Indigenous traditional law. Justice Mason in Coe v Commonwealth of Australia (1993, at 115) stated that 'Mabo … is at odds with the notion … that [Indigenous Australians] are entitled to any rights and interest other than those created or recognised by the law of the Commonwealth, the [relevant] State… and the common law' (McDonald 2627). References Coe v Commonwealth of Australia (1993) 68 ALJR 110 Ginsberg, J. (1992). Moral Rights in a Common Law System. Moral Rights in a Copyright System. P. Anderson and D. Saunders. Brisbane, Qld: Institute for Cultural Policy Studies, Griffith University. Golvan, C. (1996). 'Aboriginal Art and Copyright.' Culture and Policy 7(3): 512. Gray, S. (1996). 'Black Enough? Urban and non-traditional Aboriginal art and proposed legislative protection for Aboriginal art.' Culture and Policy 7(3): 29-44 Heiss, A. (2001). Australian Copyright vs Indigenous Intellectual and Cultural Property Rights, Australian Society of Authors. < http://www.asauthors.org/resources> Accessed 15.08.01. Janke, T. (1996). 'Protecting Australian indigenous arts and cultural expression.' Culture and Policy 7(3): 1327. Janke, T. (1998a). Editorial. Queensland Community Arts Network News 1: 45. Janke, T. (1998b). Federal Court awards record damages to Aboriginal artists. Queensland Community Arts Network News 1: 89. Janke, T., Frankel, M. & Company, Solicitors (1997). Proposals For The Recognition and Protection of Indigenous Cultural and Intellectual Property, AIATSIS for the Indigenous Cultural and Intellectual Property Project. <http://www.icip.lawnet.com.au/> Accessed 25.4.98. Johnson, V. (1996). Copyrites: Aboriginal art in the age of reproductive technologies. Sydney, NSW: NIAAA & Macquarie University. Mansell, M. (1997). Barricading our last frontier Aboriginal cultural and intellectual propery rights. Our land is Our Life: Land rights past, present and future. G. Yunupingu. St Lucia, Qld, UQP: 195209. Milpurrurru v Indofurn Pty Ltd (1995) 30 IPR 209. Morris, C. (1998). The Responsibility of Maintaining the Oldest Continuous Culture in the World. Queensland Community Arts Network News 1: 67. Pearson, N. (1997). The Concept of Native Title at Common Law. Our Land is Our Life: Land rights past, present and future. G. Yunupingu. St Lucia, Qld, UQP: 150162. Saunders, D. (1992). Early Modern Law of Copyright in England: Statutes, courts and book cultures. Authorship and Copyright. D. Saunders. London, Routledge: 3574. Links http://www.icip.lawnet.com.au/ http://www.asauthors.org/resources Citation reference for this article MLA Style McDonnell, Margaret. "The Colour of Copyright" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5.3 (2002). [your date of access] < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0207/copyright.php>. Chicago Style McDonnell, Margaret, "The Colour of Copyright" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5, no. 3 (2002), < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0207/copyright.php> ([your date of access]). APA Style McDonnell, Margaret. (2002) The Colour of Copyright. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5(3). < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0207/copyright.php> ([your date of access]).

Sharing this article, the act of writing and then having it read, legitimises the point of it – that is, we (and we speak on behalf of each other here) managed to negotiate western academic expectations and norms from a just-as-legitimate-but-not-always-heard female Buginese perspective written in Standard Australian English (not my first choice-of-language and I speak on behalf of myself). At times we transgressed roles, guiding and following each other through different academic, cultural, social, and linguistic domains until we stumbled upon ways of legitimating our entanglement of experiences, when we heard the similar, faint, drum beat across boundaries and journeys.This article is one storying of the results of this four year relationship between a Buginese PhD candidate and an Indigenous Australian supervisor – both in the writing of the article and the processes that we are writing about. This is our process of knowing and validating knowledge through sharing, collaboration and cultural exchange. Neither the successful PhD thesis nor this article draw from authoethnography but they are outcomes of a lived, research standpoint that fiercely fought to centre a Muslim-Buginese perspective as much as possible, due to the nature of a postgraduate program. In the effort to find a way to not privilege Western ways of knowing to the detriment of my standpoint and position, we had to find a way to at times privilege my way of knowing the world alongside a Western one. There had to be a beat that transgressed cultural and linguistic differences and that allowed for a legitimised dialogic, intersubjective dance.The PhD research focused on potential dialogue between Australian culture and Buginese culture in terms of feminism and its resulting cultural hybridity where some Australian feminist thoughts are applicable to Buginese culture but some are not. Therefore, the PhD study centred a Buginese standpoint while moving back and forth amongst Australian feminist discourses and the dominant expectations of a western academic process. The PhD research was part of a greater Indonesian tertiary movement to include, study, challenge and extend feminist literary programs and how this could be respectfully and culturally appropriately achieved. This article is written by both of us but the core knowledge comes from a Buginese standpoint, that is, the principal supervisor learned from the PhD candidate and then applied her understanding of Indigenous standpoint theory, Tuhiwahi Smith’s decolonising methodologies and Spivakian self-reflexivity to aid the candidate’s development of her dancing methodology. For this reason, the rest of this article is written from the first-person perspective of Dr Abbas.The PhD study was a literary analysis on five stories from Helen Garner’s Postcards from Surfers (1985). My work translated these five stories from English into Indonesian and discussed some challenges that occurred in the process of translation. By using Edward Said’s work on contrapuntal reading and Robert Warrior’s metaphor of the subaltern dancing, I, the embodied learner and the cultural translator, moved back and forth between Buginese culture and Australian culture to consider how Australian women and men are represented and how mainstream Australian society engages with, or challenges, discourses of patriarchy and power. This movement back and forth was theorised as ‘dancing’. Ultimately, another dance was performed at the end of the thesis waltz between the work which centred my Buginese standpoint and academia as a Western tertiary institution.I have been dancing with Australian feminism for over four years. My use of the word ‘dancing’ signified my challenge to articulate and engage with Australian culture, literature, and feminism by viewing it from a Buginese perspective as opposed to a ‘Non-Western’ perspective. As a Buginese woman and scholar, I centred my specific cultural standpoints instead of accepting them generally and therefore dismissed the altering label of ‘Non-Western’. Juxtaposing Australian feminism with Buginese culture was not easy. However, as my research progressed I saw interesting cultural differences between Australian and Buginese cultures that could result in a hybridized way of engaging feminist issues. At times, my cultural standpoint took the lead in directing the research or the point, at other times a Western beat was more prominent, for example, using the English language to voice my work.The Buginese, also known as the Bugis, along with the Makassar, the Mandar, and the Toraja, are one of the four main ethnic groups of the province of South Sulawesi in Indonesia. The population of the Buginese in South Sulawesi spreads into major states (Bone, Wajo, Soppeng, and Sidenreng) and some minor states (Pare-Pare, Suppa, and Sinjai). Like other ethnic groups living in other islands of Indonesia such as the Javanese, the Sundanese, the Minang, the Batak, the Balinese, and the Ambonese, the Buginese have their own culture and traditions. The Buginese, especially those who live in the villages, are still bounded strictly by ade’ (custom) or pangadereng (customary law). This concept of ade’ provides living guidelines for Buginese and consists of five components including ade’, bicara, rapang, wari’, and sara’. Pelras clarifies that pangadereng is ‘adat-hood’, a corpus of interlinked ruling principles which, besides ade’ (custom), includes also bicara (jurisprudence), rapang (models of good behaviour which ensure the proper functioning of society), wari’ (rules of descent and hierarchy) and sara’ (Islamic law and institution, derived from the Arabic shari’a) (190). So, pangadereng is an overall norm which includes advice on how Buginese should behave towards fellow human beings and social institutions on a reciprocal basis. In addition, the Buginese together with Makassarese, mind what is called siri’ (honour and shame), that is the sense of honour and shame. In the life of the Buginese-Makassar people, the most basic element is siri’. For them, no other value merits to be more detected and preserved. Siri’ is their life, their self-respect and their dignity. This is why, in order to uphold and to defend it when it has been stained or they consider it has been stained by somebody, the Bugis-Makassar people are ready to sacrifice everything, including their most precious life, for the sake of its restoration. So goes the saying.... ‘When one’s honour is at stake, without any afterthought one fights’ (Pelras 206).Buginese is one of Indonesia’s ethnic groups where men and women are intended to perform equal roles in society, especially those who live in the Buginese states of South Sulawesi where they are still bound strictly by ade’ (custom) or pangadereng (customary law). These two basic concepts are guidelines for daily life, both in the family and the work place. Buginese also praise what is called siri’, a sense of honour and shame. It is because of this sense of honour and shame that we have a saying, siri’ emmi ri onroang ri lino (people live only for siri’) which means one lives only for honour and prestige. Siri’ had to remain a guiding principle in my theoretical and methodological approach to my PhD research. It is also a guiding principle in the resulting pedagogical praxis that this work has established for my course in Australian culture and literature at Hasanuddin University. I was not prepared to compromise my own ethical and cultural identity and position yet will admit, at times, I felt pressured to do so if I was going to be seen to be performing legitimate scholarly work. Novera argues that:Little research has focused specifically on the adjustment of Indonesian students in Australia. Hasanah (1997) and Philips (1994) note that Indonesian students encounter difficulties in fulfilling certain Western academic requirements, particularly in relation to critical thinking. These studies do not explore the broad range of academic and social problems. Yet this is a fruitful area for research, not just because of the importance of Indonesian students to Australia, and the importance of the Australia-Indonesia relationship to both neighbouring nations, but also because adjustment problems are magnified by cultural differences. There are clear differences between Indonesian and Australian cultures, so that a study of Indonesian students in Australia might also be of broader academic interest […]Studies of international student adjustment discuss a range of problems, including the pressures created by new role and behavioural expectations, language difficulties, financial problems, social difficulties, homesickness, difficulties in dealing with university and other authorities, academic difficulties, and lack of assertiveness inside and outside the classroom. (467)While both my supervisor and I would agree that I faced all of these obstacles during my PhD candidature, this article is focusing solely on the battle to present my methodology, a dialogic encounter between Buginese feminism and mainstream Australian culture using Helen Garner’s short stories, to a Western process and have it be “legitimised”. Endang writes that short stories are becoming more popular in the industrial era in Indonesia and they have become vehicles for writers to articulate the realities of social life such as poverty, marginalization, and unfairness (141-144). In addition, Noor states that the short story has become a new literary form particularly effective for assisting writers in their goal to help the marginalized because its shortness can function as a weapon to directly “scoop up” the targeted issues and “knock them out at a blow” (Endang 144-145). Indeed, Helen Garner uses short stories in a way similar to that described by Endang: as a defiant act towards the government and current circumstances (145). My study of Helen Garner’s short stories explored the way her stories engage with and resist gender relations and inequality between men and women in Australian society through four themes prevalent in the narratives: the kitchen, landscape, language, and sexuality. I wrote my thesis in standard Australian English and I complied with expected forms, formatting, referencing, structuring etc. My thesis also included the Buginese translations of some of Garner’s work. However, the theoretical approaches that informed my analysis cannot be separated from the personal. In the title, I use the term ‘dancing’ to indicate a dialogue with white Australian women by moving back and forth between Australian culture and Buginese culture. I use the term ‘dancing’ as an extension of Edward Said’s work on contrapuntal reading but employ it as a signifier of my movement between insider and outsider (of Australian feminism), that is, I extend it from just a literary reading to a whole body experience. According to Ashcroft and Ahluwalia, the “essence of Said’s argument is to know something is to have power over it, and conversely, to have power is to know the world in your own terms” (83). Ashcroft and Ahluwalia add how through music, particularly the work of pianist Glenn Gould, Said formulated a way of reading imperial and postcolonial texts contrapuntally. Such a reading acknowledges the hybridity of cultures, histories and literatures, allowing the reader to move back and forth between an internal and an external standpoint of cultural references and attitudes in “an effort to draw out, extend, give emphasis and voice to what is silent or marginally present or ideologically represented” (Said 66). While theorising about the potential dance between Australian and Buginese feminisms in my work, I was living the dance in my day-to-day Australian university experience. Trying to accommodate the expected requirements of a PhD thesis, while at the same time ensuring that I maintained my own personal, cultural and professional dignity, that is ade’, and siri’, required some fancy footwork. Siri’ is central to my Buginese worldview and had to be positioned as such in my PhD thesis. Also, the realities that women are still marginalized and that gender inequality and disparities persist in Indonesian society become a motivation to carry out my PhD study. The opportunity to study Australian culture and literature in that country, allowed me to increase my global and local complexity as an individual, what Pieterse refers to as “ a process of hybridization” and to become as Beck terms an “actor” and “manager’’ of my life (as cited in Edmunds 1). Gaining greater autonomy and reconceptualising both masculinity and femininity, while dominant themes in Garner’s work, are also issues I address in my personal and professional goals. In other words, this study resulted in hybridized knowledge of Australian concepts of feminism and Buginese societies that offers a reference for students to understand and engage with different feminist thought. By learning how feminism is understood differently by Australians and Buginese, my Indonesian students can decide what aspects of feminist ideas from a Western perspective can be applied to Buginese culture without transgressing Buginese customs and habits.There are few Australian literary works that have been translated into Indonesian. Those that have include Peter Carey’s True History of the Kelly Gang (2007) and My Life is a Fake (2009), James Vance Marshall’s Walkabout (1957), Emma Darcy’s The Billionaire Bridegroom (2010) , Sally Morgan’s My Place (1987), and Colleen McCullogh’s The Thorn Birds (1978). My translation of five short stories from Postcards from Surfers complemented these works and enriched the diversity of Indonesian translations of world literary works, the bulk of which tends to come from the United Kingdom, America, the Middle East, and Japan. However, actually getting through the process of PhD research followed by examination required my supervisor and I to negotiate cross-cultural terrain, academic agendas and Western expectations of what legitimate thesis writing should look like. Employing Said’s contrapuntal pedagogy and Warrior’s notion of subaltern dancing became my illegitimate methodological frame.Said points out that contrapuntal analysis means that students and teachers can cross-culturally “elucidate a complex and uneven topography” (318). He adds that “we must be able to think through and interpret together experiences that are discrepant, each with its particular agenda and pace of development, its own internal formations, its internal coherence and system of external relationships, all of them co-existing and interacting with others” (32). Contrapuntal is a metaphor Said derived from musical theory, meaning to counterpoint or add a rhythm or melody, in this case, Buginese and Anglo-Australian feminisms. Warrior argues for an indigenous critique of how power and knowledge is read and in doing so he writes that “the subaltern can dance, and so sometimes can the intellectual” (85). In his rereading of Spivak, he argues that subaltern and intellectual positions can meet “and in meeting, create the possibility of communication” (86). He refers to this as dancing partly because it implicitly acknowledges without silencing the voices of the subaltern (once the subaltern speaks it is no longer the subaltern, so the notion of dancing allows for communication, “a movement from subalternity to something else” (90) which can mark “a new sort of non-complicitous relationship to a family, community or class of origin” (91). By “non-complicit” Warrior means that when a member of the subaltern becomes a scholar and therefore a member of those who historically silence the subaltern, there are other methods for communicating, of moving, between political and cultural spaces that allow for a multiplicity of voices and responses. Warrior uses a traditional Osage in-losh-ka dance as an example of how he physically and intellectually interacts with multiple voices and positions:While the music plays, our usual differences, including subalternity and intellectuality, and even gender in its own way, are levelled. For those of us moving to the music, the rules change, and those who know the steps and the songs and those who can keep up with the whirl of bodies, music and colours hold nearly every advantage over station or money. The music ends, of course, but I know I take my knowledge of the dance away and into my life as a critic, and I would argue that those levelled moments remain with us after we leave the drum, change our clothes, and go back to the rest of our lives. (93)For Warrior, the dance becomes theory into practice. For me, it became not only a way to soundly and “appropriately” present my methodology and purpose, but it also became my day to day interactions, as a female Buginese scholar, with western, Australian academic and cultural worldviews and expectations.One of the biggest movements I had to justify was my use of the first person “I”, in my thesis, to signify my identity as a Buginese woman and position myself as an insider of my community with a hybrid western feminism with Australia in mind. Perrault argues that “Writing “I” has been an emancipatory project for women” (2). In the context of my PhD thesis, uttering ‘I’ confirmed my position and aims. However, this act of explicitly situating my own identity and cultural position in my research and thesis was considered one of the more illegitimate acts. In one of the examiner reports, it was stated that situating myself centrally was fraught but that I managed to avoid the pitfalls. Judy Long argues that writing in the female first person challenges patriarchal control and order (127). For me, writing in the first person was essential if I had any chance of maintaining my Buginese identity and voice, in both my thesis and in my Australian tertiary experience. As Trinh-Minh writes, “S/he who writes, writes. In uncertainty, in necessity. And does not ask whether s/he is given permission to do so or not” (8).Van Dijk, cited in Hamilton, notes that the west and north are bound by an academic ethnocentrism and this is a particular area my own research had to negotiate. Methodologically I provided a comparative rather than a universalising perspective, engaging with middle-class, heterosexual, western, white women feminism but not privileging them. It is important for Buginese to use language discourses as a weapon to gain power, particularly because as McGlynn claims, “generally Indonesians are not particularly outspoken” (38). My research was shaped by a combination of ongoing dedication to promote women’s empowerment in the Buginese context and my role as an academic teaching English literature at the university level. I applied interpretive principles that will enable my students to see how the ideas of feminism conveyed through western literature can positively improve the quality of women’s lives and be implemented in Buginese culture without compromising our identity as Indonesians and Buginese people. At the same time, my literary translation provides a cultural comparison with Australia that allows a space for further conversations to occur. However, while attempting to negotiate western and Indonesian discourses in my thesis, I was also physically and emotionally trying to negotiate how to do this as a Muslim Buginese female PhD candidate in an Anglo-Australian academic institution. The notion of ‘dancing’ was employed as a signifier of movement between insider and outsider knowledge. Throughout the research process and my thesis I ‘danced’ with Australian feminism, traditional patriarchal Buginese society, Western academic expectations and my own emerging Indonesian feminist perspective. To ensure siri’ remained the pedagogical and ethical basis of my approach I applied Edward Said’s work on contrapuntal reading and Robert Warrior’s employment of a traditional Osage dance as a self-reflexive, embodied praxis, that is, I extended it from just a literary reading to a whole body experience. The notion of ‘dance’ allows for movement, change, contact, tension, touch and distance: it means that for those who have historically been marginalised or confined, they are no longer silenced. The metaphoric act of dancing allowed me to legitimise my PhD work – it was successfully awarded – and to negotiate a western tertiary institute in Australia with my own Buginese knowledge, culture and purpose.ReferencesAshcroft., B., and P. Ahluwalia. Edward Said. London: Routledge, 1999.Carey, Peter. True History of the Kelly Gang: A Novel. Random House LLC, 2007.Carey, Peter. My Life as a Fake: A NNovel. Random House LLC, 2009.Darcy, Emma. Billionaire Bridegroom 2319. Harlequin, 2010.Endang, Fransisca. "Disseminating Indonesian Postcoloniality into English Literature (a Case Study of 'Clara')." Jurnal Sastra Inggris 8.2: 2008.Edmunds, Kim. "The Impact of an Australian Higher Education on Gender Relations in Indonesia." ISANA International Conference "Student Success in International Education", 2007Garner, Helen. Postcards from Surfers. Melbourne: McPhee/Gribble, 1985.Hamilton, Deborah, Deborah Schriffrin, and Heidi E. Tannen, ed. The Handbook of Discourse Analysis. Victoria: Balckwll, 2001.Long, Judy. 1999. Telling Women's Lives: Subject/Narrator/Reader/Text. New York: New York UP, 1999.McGlynn, John H. "Silent Voices, Muted Expressions: Indonesian Literature Today." Manoa 12.1 (2000): 38-44.Morgan, Sally. My Place. Fremantle Press, 1987.Pelras, Christian. The Bugis. Oxford: Blackwell, 1996. Perreault, Jeanne. Writing Selves: Contemporary Feminist Autography. London & Minneapolis: University of Minnesota, 1995.Pieterse, J.N. Globalisation as Hybridisation. In M. Featherstone, S. Lash, and R. Robertson, eds., Global Modernities. London: Sage Publications, 1995.Marshall, James V. Walkabout. London: Puffin, 1957.McCullough, C. The Thorn Birds Sydney: Harper Collins, 1978.Minh-ha, Trinh T. Woman, Native, Other: Writing, Postcoloniality and Feminism. Bloomington: Indiana University, 1989.Novera, Isvet Amri. "Indonesian Postgraduate Students Studying in Australia: An Examination of Their Academic, Social and Cultural Experiences." International Education Journal 5.4 (2004): 475-487.Said, Edward. Culture and Imperialism. New York: Vintage Book, 1993. Smith, Linda Tuhiwai. Decolonizing Methodologies: Research and Indigenous Peoples. Zed Books, 1999.Spivak, Gayatri Chakravorty. "Can the Subaltern Speak?" In C. Nelson and L. Grossberg, eds., Marxism and Interpretation of Culture. Chicago: University of lllinois, 1988. 271-313.Spivak, Gayatri Chakravorty. In Other Worlds: Essays in Cultural Politics. New York: Routledge, 1988.Warrior, Robert. ""The Subaltern Can Dance, and So Sometimes Can the Intellectual." Interventions: International Journal of Postcolonial Studies 13.1 (2011): 85-94.

The ProjectThe Hand Up Linkage project focuses on the family as a communication context through which to explore the dynamics of intergenerational welfare dependency. In particular, it explores ways that creative life-course interventions might allow children in welfare dependent families to construct alternative realities for themselves and alternative views of their future. Formed through an alliance between a key Western Australian social welfare not-for-profit organisation, St Vincent de Paul WA (SVDPWA and also, in the context of volunteers, ‘Vinnies’), and Edith Cowan University, the project aims to address the organisation’s vision to provide “a hand up” (St Vincent 1) rather than ‘a hand out’, so that people can move forward with their lives without becoming dependent upon welfare. Prior to the start of the research, SVDPWA already had a whole of family focus in its outreach to poverty-impacted families including offering homework clubs and school holiday children’s camps run by their youth services division. Selected families supported by SVDPWA have been invited to participate in an in-depth interview for the project (Seidman), partly so that researchers can help identify “turning points” (King et al.) that might disrupt the communication of welfare dependency and inform more generalised intervention strategies; but also in order to explore the response to creative interventions within the children’s daily lives, including investigation of how strategies the child (and family) employed might help them to imagine alternative realities and futures for themselves. This paper closely examines the way that one 10 year old child from a non-English-speaking background family has employed alternative ways of viewing her life, through the camp program provided by the Linkage Partner St Vincent de Paul WA, and through reading novels such as Harry Potter and the Lemony Snicket Unfortunate Incidents series. Such activities help fuel hope for a different future which, in Snyder’s view has “two main components: the ability to plan pathways to desired goals despite obstacles, and agency or motivation to use those pathways” (Carr 96).The FamilyKani is a 10 year old girl living in a migrant sole parent family. The parents had moved to Australia from Bangladesh on student visas when Kani was 5 years old, however due to domestic violence the mother had recently separated from her husband, first into a women’s refuge then into private rental accommodation. The mother is in protracted negotiations with the Department of Immigration for permanent residency, which she had to recommence due to her separation. There are also family court negotiations for child custody and which restrict her leaving Australia. She receives no government benefits and minimal child support, works fulltime and pays full childcare fees for Kani’s 3 year old brother Adil and full primary school fees for Kani at a local religious school, given that Kani had experienced bullying and social aggression in previous schools. Kani was referred to SVDPWA by the women’s refuge and she began attending SVDPWA Kids’ Camps thereafter. (NB: Whilst the relevant specifics of this description are accurate, non-relevant material has been added or changed to protect the child’s and family’s identity.)Creative Life-Course InterventionsThe creative engagement that Kani experienced in the Hand Up project is constructed as one component in a larger model of creativity which includes “intrapersonal insights and interpretations, which often live only within the person who created them,” (Kaufman and Beghetto 4). Such an approach also acknowledges Csikszentmihalyi’s work on the concept of “flow”, whereby optimal experiences can result from positive absorption in a creative activity. Relevant Australian research such as the YouthWorx project has identified participatory engagement in creativity as one means of engaging with young people at risk (Hopkins; Podkalicka). The creative interventions in the Hand Up project take two forms; one is the predesigned and participatory creative activities delivered as part of the SVDPWA Kids’ Camp program. The second is a personalised intervention, identified by way of an in-depth interview with the child and parent, and is wholly dependent on the interests expressed by the child, the ability for the family to engage in that activity, and the budget restraints of the project.Reading as an Alternative RealityA key creative intervention embedded in the Hand Up Linkage project is determined by the interests expressed by the child during their in-depth interview. Also taken into account is the ability for the family to engage in that activity. For example, Kani’s mother works fulltime at a location which is an hour by public transport from home and does not have a car or driver’s license, so the choice of creative opportunity was restricted to a home-based activity or a weekend activity accessible by public transport. A further restriction is the limited budget available for this intervention in the project, along with an imperative that such interventions should be equitable between families and within families, and be of benefit to all the children in addition to the interviewed child. Fortunately, transport was not an issue because Kani expressed her interest very emphatically as books and reading. When asked what she liked doing most in life, Kani replied: “Reading. I like reading like big books, like really thick books and stuff. I have like 30 in my room. Like those really big books. And I'm starting to read Harry Potter now. Okay, the books that I like reading is Harry Potter, the entire set Roald Dahl books and the Baudelaire Orphans by Lemony Snicket. I like reading David Walliams. I like Little Women” (Kani). Her excitement in listing these books further animated the interview and was immediately emphasised because Kani took the interviewer (second author) and her mother into her room to demonstrate the truth of her statement. When asked again at the close of the interview “what’s a favourite thing that makes you feel good inside?” Kani’s answer was “Family and reading”. The energy and enthusiasm with which Kani talked about her reading and books made these the obvious choice as her creative intervention. However, participation in book-related courses or after-school activities was restricted by Kani’s mother’s transportation limitations. Taking into account how the financial constraints of her sole parent family impacted upon their capacity to buy books, and the joy that Kani clearly experienced from having books of her own, it was decided that a book voucher would be provided for her at a local bookstore easily accessible by bus. The research team negotiated with the bookstore to try to ensure that Kani could choose a book a month until the funds were expended so that the intervention would last most of the coming six months.What Kani was expressing in her love of books was partly related to the raw material they provide that help her to imagine the alternative reality of the fictional worlds she loved reading about. Kani’s passionate engagement in these alternative realities reflects theories of narrative immersion in one’s chosen medium: “One key element of an enjoyable media experience is that it takes individuals away from their mundane reality and into a story world. We call the process of becoming fully engaged in a story transportation into a narrative world” (Green et al. 311–12). Kani said: “Reading is everything, yeah. Like getting more books and like those kind of things and making me read more... ‘cause I really love reading, it’s like watching a movie. Do you know ... have you watched Harry Potter? … the book is nothing like the movie, nothing, they’ve missed so many parts so the book is more enjoyable than the movie. That’s why I like reading more. ‘Cause like I have my own adventures in my head.” This process of imagining her own adventures in her head echoes Green and Brock’s explanation of the process of being transported into alternative realities through reading as a result of “an integrative melding of attention, imagery, and feelings” (701).Constructing Alternative Realities for Herself and an Alternative Possible FutureLike many 10 year olds, Kani has a challenging time at school, exacerbated by the many school moves brought about by changes in her family circumstances. Even though she is in a school which supports her family’s faith, her experience is one of being made to feel an outsider: “all the boys and the girls in our class are like friends, they’re like ... it’s a group. But I’m not in their group. I have my friends in other classes and they’re [my classmates are] not happy with it, that’s why they tease me and stuff. And like whenever I play with my friends they’re like ... yeah”. The interviewer asked her what she liked about her special friends. “They’re fun. Creative like, enjoyable, yeah, those kind of things …they have lots of cool ideas like plans and stuff like that.” As Hawkins et al. argue, the capacity to develop and maintain good relationships with peers (and parents) is a key factor in helping children be resilient. It is likely that Kani also shares her creativity, ideas and plans with her friendship group as part of her shared contribution to its existence.A domestication of technology framework (Silverstone et al.) can be useful as part of the explanation for Kani’s use of imaginative experience in building her social relationships. Silverstone et al. argue that technology is domesticated via four interlocking activities: ‘appropriation’ (where it embraced, purchased, taken into the household), ‘objectification’ (where a physical space is found for it), ‘incorporation’ (the spaces through which it is inserted into the everyday activities of the household or users) and ‘conversion’ (whereby the experience and fact of the technology use – or lack of use – becomes material through which family members express themselves and their priorities to the social world beyond the home). Arguably, Kani ‘converts’ her engagement with books and associated imaginative experiences into social currency through which she builds relationships with the like-minded children with whom she makes friends. At the same time, those children feed into her ideas of what constitutes a creative approach to life and help energise her plans for the future.Kani’s views of her future (at the age of 10) are influenced by the traditional occupations favoured by high achieving students, and by the fact that her parents are themselves educational high achievers, entering Australia on student visas. “I want to be a doctor … my cousin wants to be a doctor too. Mum said lawyer but we want to be a doctors anywhere. We want to be a ...me and my cousin want to be doctors like ...we like being doctors and like helping people.” Noting the pressures on the household of the possible fees and costs of high school, Kani adds “I need to work even harder so I get a scholarship. ‘Cause like my mum can’t pay for like four terms, you know how much money that will be? Yeah.” Kani’s follow-on statement, partly to justify why she wants “a big house”, adds some poignancy to her reference to a cousin (one of many), who still lives in Bangladesh and whom Kani hasn’t seen since 2011. “Like I want to live with my mum and like yeah and like I live with my cousin too because like I have a cousin ... she’s a girl, yeah? And like yeah, she’s in Bangladesh, I haven’t seen her for very long time so yeah.” In the absence of her extended family overseas, Kani adds her pets to those with whom she shares her family life: “And my mum and my uncle and then our cat Dobby. I named it [for Harry Potter’s house elf] ...and the goldfish. The goldfish are Twinkle, Glitter, Glow and Bobby.”Kani’s mum notes the importance of an opportunity to dream a future into existence: “maybe she’s too young or she hasn’t really kind of made up her mind as yet as to what she wants to do in life but just going out and just you know doing stuff and just giving them the opportunity”. The SVDPWA Kids’ Camp is an important part of this “they [the refuge] kind of told us like ‘there’s this child camp’. … I was like yeah, sure, why not?” Providing Alternative Spaces at the SVDPWA Kids’ CampThe SVDPWA Kids’ Camps themselves constitute a creative intervention in offering visions of alternative realities to their young participants. Their benefit is delivered via anticipation, as well as the reality of the camp experience. As Kani said “I forget all about the things that’s just past, like all the hard things, you know like I go through and stuff and it just makes me forget it and it makes me like think about camp, things we’re going to do at camp”. The Kids’ Camps take place three times a year and are open to children aged between 8 and 13, with follow-on Teen Camps for older age groups. Once a child is part of the program she or he can continue to participate in successive camps while they are in the target age group. Consisting of a four day activity-based experience in a natural setting, conducted by Vinnies Youth and staffed by key SVDPWA employees and Youth volunteers, the camps offer children a varied schedule of activities in a safe and supported environment, with at least one volunteer for every two child participants. The camps are specifically made available to children from disadvantaged families and are provided virtually free to participants. (A nominal $10 enrolment fee is applied per child). Kani was initially reticent about attending her first camp. She explained: “I was shy, scared because I sleep with my mum so it’s different sleeping without Mum. I know it’s kind of embarrassing ‘cause, sleeping with my mum like, but I just get scared at night”. Kani went on to explain how the camp facilitators were able to allay her fears “I knew I was safe. And I had people I could talk to so yeah ...like the leader”. As one Vinnies Youth volunteer explains, the potential of offering children like Kani time out from the pressures of everyday life is demonstrated when “towards the end of every camp we always see that progression of, they came out of their shell … So I think it’s really just a journey for everyone and it’s understandable if they did feel stuck. It’s about what we can do to help them progress forward” (VY1). Kani was empowered to envision an alternative idea of herself at camp, one which was unexpectedly intuited by the research interviewer.When the interviewer closed the interview by expressing that it had been lovely to talk to Kani as she was “such a bundle of energy”, Kani grinned and replied “Do you know the warm fuzzies, yeah? [When positive thoughts about others are exchanged at the SVDPWA Kids’ Camp]. The bundle ... all the leaders say I’m a bundle of happiness”. The Kids’ Camp provided Kani with a fun and positive alternative reality to the one she experienced as a child handling the considerable challenges experienced by social isolation, domestic violence and parental separation, including the loss of her home, diminished connection to her overseas extended family, legal custody issues, and several school changes. Taking the role of cultural intermediary, by offering the possibility of alternative realities via their camp, SVDPWA offered Kani a chance that supported her work on creating a range of enticing possible futures for herself. This was in contrast to some commercial holiday camp experiences which might more centrally use their “cultural authority as shapers of taste and … new consumerist dispositions” (Nixon and Du Gay 497). Even so, Kani’s interview made clear that her experience with the SVDPWA Kids’ Camps were only part of the ways in which she was crafting a range of possible visions for her adult life, adding to this her love of books and reading, her fun, creative friends, and her vision for a successful future which would reunite her with her distant cousin and offer security to her mother. ConclusionUnderstandably, Kani at 10 lacks the critical insight required to interpret how her imaginative and creative life provides the raw materials from which she crafts her visions for the future. Further, the interviewer is careful not to introduce words like ‘creative’ into her work with the participant families, so that when Kani used it to talk about her friends she did so drawing upon her own store of descriptions and not as a result of having recently been reminded of creativity as a desirable attribute. The interview with this young person indicates, however, how greatly she values the imaginative and cultural inputs into her life and how she converts them in ways which help ensure access to further such creative currency. Apart from referencing her reading in the naming of her cat, Kani’s vision for herself reflects both the conventional idea of success (“a doctor”) and a very specific idea of her future living as an adult in house large enough to include her mum and her cousin.Kani’s love of reading, her pleasure in books, her choice of friends and her aspirations to scholarly excellence all offer her ways to escape the restricted options available to families who seek support from organisations such as SVDPWA. At the same time the Kids’ Camps themselves, like Kani’s books, provide an escape from the difficulties of the present. Kani’s appropriation of the cultural raw materials that she draws into her life, and her conversion of these inputs into a creative, social currency, offers her an opportunity to anticipate a better future, and some tools she can use to help bring it into existence.ReferencesCarr, A. Positive Psychology: The Science of Happiness and Human Strengths. 2nd ed. Hove, UK: Routledge, 2011.Csikszentmihalyi, M. Creativity: Flow and the Psychology of Discovery and Invention. New York: HarperCollins, 1996.Green, M., and T. Brock. “The Role of Transportation in the Persuasiveness of Public Narratives.”. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 79 (2000): 701–21.———, T. Brock, and G. Kaufman. “Understanding Media Enjoyment: The Role of Transportation into Narrative Worlds." Communication Theory 14.4 (2004): 311–27.Hawkins, J.D., R. Kosterman, R.F. Catalano, K.G. Hill, and R.D. Abbott. “Promoting Positive Adult Functioning through Social Development Intervention in Childhood: Long-Term Effects from the Seattle Social Development Project.” Archives of Pediatrics & Adolescent Medicine 159.1 (2005): 25. Hopkins, L. “YouthWorx: Increasing Youth Participation through Media Production.” Journal of Sociology 47.2 (2011): 181–197. doi: 10.1177/1440783310386827.Kani. In-depth interview, de-identified, 2016.Kaufman, J. C., and R.A. Beghetto. “Beyond Big and Little: The Four C Model of Creativity.” Review of General Psychology 13.1 (2009): 1–12. <http://dx.doi.org/10.1037/a0013688>. King, G., T. Cathers, E. Brown, J.A. Specht, C. Willoughby, J.M. Polgar, and L. Havens. “Turning Points and Protective Processes in the Lives of People with Chronic Disabilities.” Qualitative Health Research 13.2 (2003): 184–206.Nixon, S., and P. Du Gay. “Who Needs Cultural Intermediaries?” Cultural Studies 16.4 (2002): 495–500.Podkalicka, A. “Young Listening: An Ethnography of YouthWorx Media’s Radio Project.” Continuum 23.4 (2009): 561–72.St Vincent de Paul Society (WA). St Vincent de Paul Society, Annual Report 2013. Perth, WA: St Vincent de Paul Society (WA), 2013. 5 Jan 2017 <http://www.vinnies.org.au/icms_docs/169819_Vinnies_WA_2012_Annual_Report.pdf>.Seidman, I. Interviewing as Qualitative Research: A Guide for Researchers in Education and the Social Sciences. New York: Teachers College Press, Columbia University, 2006.Silverstone, R., E. Hirsch, and D. Morley. “Information and Communication Technologies and the Moral Economy of the Household.” Consuming Technologies: Media and Information in Domestic Spaces. Eds. R. Silverstone and E. Hirsch. London: Routledge, 1992. 9–17.Snyder, C.R. Handbook of Hope. Orlando, FL: Academic Press, 2000.VY1. In-depth interview with Vinnies Youth volunteer, de-identified, 2016.

In the 1980s, an extremely successful Nescafé Gold Blend coffee advertising campaign dared to posit, albeit subliminally, that a love relationship was inextricably linked to coffee. Over several years, an on-again off-again love affair appeared to unfold onscreen; its ups and downs narrated over shared cups of coffee. Although the association between the relationship and Gold Blend was loose at best, no direct link was required (O’Donohoe 62). The campaign’s success was its reprisal of the cultural myth prevalent in the West that coffee and love, coffee and relationships, indeed coffee and intimacy, are companionate items. And, the more stable lover, it would seem, is available on the supermarket shelf. Meeting for coffee, inviting a potential lover in for a late-night cup of coffee, or scheduling a business meeting in an espresso bar are clichés that refer to coffee consumption but have little to do with the actual product. After all, many a tea-drinker will invite friends or acquaintances “for coffee.” This is neatly acknowledged in a short romantic scene in the lauded feature film Good Will Hunting (1997) in which a potential lover’s suggestion of meeting for coffee is responded to smartly by the “genius” protagonist Will, “Maybe we could just get together and eat a bunch of caramels. [...] When you think about it, it’s just as arbitrary as drinking coffee.” It was a date, regardless. Many in the coffee industry will argue that coffee—rather than tea, or caramel—is legendary for its intrinsic capacity to foster and ignite new relationships and ideas. Coffee houses are repeatedly cited as the heady location for the beginnings of institutions from major insurance business Lloyd’s of London to the Boston Tea Party, J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series of novels, and even Western Australian indie band Eskimo Joe. This narrative images the coffee house and café as a setting that supports ingenuity, success, and passion. It is tempting to suggest that something intrinsic in coffee renders it a Western social lubricant, economic powerhouse, and, perhaps, spiritual prosthesis. This paper will, however, argue that the social and cultural production of “coffee” cannot be dissociated from feeling. Feelings of care, love, inspiration, and desire constellate around “coffee” in a discourse of warm, fuzzy affect. I suggest that this blooming of affect is not superfluous but, instead, central to the way in which coffee is produced, represented and consumed in Western mass culture. By exploring the currently fashionable practice of “direct trade” between roasters and coffee growers as represented on the Websites of select Western roasting companies, the repetition of this discourse is abundantly clear. Here, the good feelings associated with cross-cultural friendship are figured as the condition and reward for the production of high quality coffee beans. Money, it seems, does not buy happiness—but good quality coffee can. Good (Colonial) Feelings Before exploring the discursive representation of friendship and good feeling among the global coffee community with regard to direct trade, it is important to account for the importance of feeling as a narrative strategy with political affects and effects. In her discussion of “happy objects,” cultural theorist of emotion Sara Ahmed argues that specific objects are associated with feelings of happiness. She gives the telling example of coffee as an object intimately tied with happy feeling within the family. So you make coffee for the family, and you know “just“ how much sugar to put in this cup and that. Failure to know this “just“ is often felt as a failure of care. Even if we do not experience the same objects as being pleasurable, sharing the family means sharing happy objects, both in the sense of sharing knowledge (of what makes others happy) and also in the sense of distributing the objects in the right way (Ahmed, Promise 47). This idea is derived from Ahmed’s careful consideration of affective economies. She suggests emotions neither belong to, or are manufactured by, discrete individuals. Rather, emotions are formed through social exchange. Relieved of imagining the individual as the author of affect, we can consider the ways in which affect circulates as a product in a broad, vitalising economy of feeling (Ahmed, Affective 121). In the example above, feelings of care and intimacy attached to coffee-making produce the happy family, or more precisely, the fleeting instant of the family-as-happy. The condition of this good feeling is not attributable to the coffee as product nor the family as fundamentally happy but rather the rippling of happy feeling through sharing of the object deemed happy. A little too much sugar and happiness is thwarted, affect wanes; the coffee is now bad(-feeling). If we return briefly to the Nescafé Gold Blend campaign and, indeed, Good Will Hunting, we can postulate following Ahmed that the coffee functions as a love object. Proximity to coffee is identified by its apparent causation of love-effects. In this sense, “doing coffee” means making a fleeting cultural space for feeling love, or feeling good. But what happens when we turn from the good feeling of consumption to the complex question of coffee production and trade? How might good feeling attach to the process of procuring coffee beans? In this case, the way in which good feeling seems to “stick to” coffee in mass culture needs to be augmented with consideration of its status as a global commodity traded across sociopolitical, economic, cultural and national borders. Links between coffee and colonialism are long established. From the Dutch East India Company to the feverish enthusiasm to purchase mass plantations by multinational corporations, coffee, colonialism and practices of slavery and indentured labour are intertwined (Lyons 18-19). As a globally traded commodity across a range of political regimes and national borders, tracing the postcolonial and neocolonial relations between multinational companies, small upscale boutique roasters, plantation owners, coffee bean co-ops, regulatory bodies, and workers is complex at best. In what may appear a tangential approach, it is nonetheless instructive to consider that colonial relations are constituted through affective components that support and fuel economic and political exchange (Stoler, Haunted). Again, Ahmed offers a useful context for the relationship between the imperative toward happiness and colonial representation. The civilizing mission can be redescribed as a happiness mission. For happiness to become a mission, the colonized other must be first deemed unhappy. The imperial archive can be described as an archive of unhappiness. Colonial knowledges constitute the other as not only an object of knowledge, a truth to be discovered, but as being unhappy, as lacking the qualities or attributes required for a happier state of existence (Ahmed, Promise 125). The colonising aspect of the relations Ahmed describes includes the “mission” to construct Others as unhappy. Understood as happiness detractors, colonial Others become objects that threaten the radiant appeal of happiness as part of an imperial moral economy. Hence, it is the happiness of the colonisers that is secured through the disavowal of the feelings of Others. Moreover, by documenting colonial unhappiness, colonising forces justify the sanctity of happiness-making through violence. As Ann Stoler affirms, “Colonial states had a strong interest in affective knowledge and a sophisticated understanding of affective politics” (Carnal 142). Colonising discourses, then, are inextricably linked to regimes of sense and feeling. Stoler also writes that European-ness was established through cultivation of an inner sense of self-worth associated with ethics, individuality and autonomy (Haunted 157). The development of a sense of belonging to Europe was hence executed through feeling good in both moral and affective senses of the word. Although Stoler argues her case in terms of the affective politics of colonial sexualities and desire, her work is highly instructive for its argument that emotion is crucial to structures of power in colonial regimes. Bringing Stoler’s work into closer proximity with Ahmed’s postulation of State happiness and its objects, I am now going to suggest that coffee is a palimpsestic cultural site at which to explore the ways in which the politics of good feeling obscure discomforting and complex questions of power, exploitation, and disadvantage in global economies of coffee production and consumption. Direct Trade In the so-called “third wave” specialty coffee market that is enjoying robust growth in Australia, America, and Europe, “direct trade” across the globe between roasters and plantation owners is consistently represented as friendly and intimate despite vast distances and cultural difference. The “third wave” is a descriptor that, as John Manzo describes in his sociological exploration of coffee connoisseurship in privileged Western online and urban fora, refers to coffee enthusiasts interested in brewing devices beyond high-end espresso machines such as the cold drip, siphon, or pour-over. Jillian Adams writes further that third wavers: Appreciate the flavour nuances of single estate coffee; that is coffee that is sourced from single estates, farms, or villages in coffee growing regions. When processed carefully, it will have a distinctive flavour and taste profile that reflects the region and the culture of the coffee production (2). This focus on single estate or “single origin” coffee refers to beans procured from sections of estates and plantations called micro-lots, which are harvested and processed in a controlled manner.The third wave trend toward single origin coffees coincides with the advent of direct trade. Direct trade refers to the growing practice of bypassing “middlemen” to source coffee beans from plantations without appeal to or restriction by regulatory bodies. Rather, as I will show below, relationships and partnerships between growers and importers are imagined as sites of goodwill and good feeling. This focus on interpersonal relationships and friendships cannot be disarticulated from the broader cross-cultural context at stake. The relationships associated with direct trade invariably take place across borders that are also marked by economic, cultural and political differences in which privileged Western buyers engage with non-Western growers on low incomes. Drawing from Ahmed’s concern that the politics of good feeling is tied to colonial nostalgia, it is compelling to suggest that direct trade is haunted by discourses of colonisation. At this point of intersection, I suggest that Western mass cultural associations of coffee with ease, intimacy and pure intentions invite consumers to join a neocolonial saga through partaking in imagined communities of global coffee friends. Particularly popular in Australia and America, direct trade is espoused by key third wave coffee roasters in Melbourne, Portland and Seattle. Melbourne Coffee Merchants are perhaps the most well-known importers of directly traded green bean in Australia. On their Web page they describe the importance of sharing good feelings about high quality coffee: “We aim to share, educate, and inspire, and get people as excited about quality coffee as we are.” A further page describing the Merchants’s mission explains, “Growers are treated as partners in the mission to get the worlds [sic] finest beans into the hands of discerning customers.” The quality of excitement that circulates through the procuring of green beans is related to the deemed partnership between Merchants and the growers. That is, it is not the fact of the apparent partnership or its banality that is important, but the treating of growers as partners that signifies Merchants’s mission to generate good feeling. This is a slight but crucial distinction. Treating the growers as partners participates in an affective economy of excitement and inspiration—how the growers feel is, presumably, in want of such partnership.Not dissimilarly, Five Senses Coffee, boutique roasters in Melbourne and Perth, offer an emotional bonus with the purchase of directly traded coffees. “So go on, select one of our Direct Trade products and bask in the warm glow you get knowing that the farmer who grew the beans that you’re enjoying is reaping the rewards too!” The rewards that the growers are deemed to be receiving are briefly explained in blog posts on the Five Senses news Web page. I am not suggesting that these friendships and projects are not legitimate. Rather, the willingness of Five Senses to negotiate rates with growers and provide the community with an English teacher, for example, fuels an economy of Westerners’s good feelings and implies conventional trading produces unhappiness. This obscures grounds for concern that the provision of an English teacher might indeed serve the interests of colonising discourses. Perhaps a useful entry point into this narrative form is founded in the recently self-published book Coffee Trails by Toby Smith, founder of boutique Australian roaster Toby’s Estate. The book is described on the Toby’s Estate Web page as follows:Filled with personal anecdotes and illustrating his relationships developed over years of visiting the farmers to source his coffee beans, Smith’s commentary of his travels, including a brush with Jamaican customs officials and a trip to a notoriously dangerous Ethiopian market, paints an authentic picture of the colourful countries that produce the second most traded product in the world. [...] Coffee Trails has been Smith’s labour of love over the past two years and the end product is a wonderfully personal account of a man fulfilling his lifelong dream and following his passion across the world. Again, the language of “passion” and “love” registers direct trade coffee as a happy object. Furthermore, despite the fact that coffee is also grown in Australia, the countries that are most vivid in the epic imagination are those associated with “exotic” locations such as Ethiopia and Jamaica. This is arguably registered through the sense that these locations were where Smith encountered danger. Having embarked on a version of the quintessential hero’s journey, Smith can be seen as devoted to, and inspired by, his love-object. His brushes with uncivilised authorities and locations carry the undertones of a colonial imaginary, in which it can be argued Smith’s Western-ness is established and secured as goodwill-invoking. After all, he locates and develops relationships with farmers and buys their coffee which, following the logic of happy objects, disperses and shares good feelings.Gloria Jean’s Coffees, which occupies a similar market position in Australia to the multinational “specialty” coffee company Starbucks (Lyons), also participates in the dispersal of coffee as a happy object despite its mass scale of production and lack of direct trade capability (not unexpectedly, Starbucks hosts a Relationships campaign aimed at supporting humanitarian initiatives and communities). Gloria Jean’s campaign With Heart allocates resources to humanitarian activities in local Australian communities and worldwide in coffee-growing regions. Their Web page states: “With Heart is woven throughout Gloria Jeans Coffee houses and operations by the active participation of Franchise Partners, support office and team members and championed across Australia, by our With Heart Ambassadors.“ The associative message is clear: Gloria Jean’s Coffees is a company indissociable from “heart,” or perhaps loving care, for community.By purchasing coffee, Gloria Jean’s customers can be seen to be supporting heartening community projects, and are perhaps unwittingly working as ambassadors for the affective economy in which proximity to the happy object—the heart-centred coffee company—indicates the procurement of happiness for someone, somewhere. The sale of good feeling enables specialty coffee companies such as Gloria Jean’s to bypass market opportunities associated with Fair Trade regulatory provisions, which, as Carl Obermiller et al. find in their study of Fair Trade buying patterns, also profit from consumers’ purchase of good feeling associated with ethically-produced objects. Instead, assuring consumers of its heart-centredness, Gloria Jean’s Coffees is represented as an embodiment not of fairness but kindness, and perhaps love, for others. The iconography and history of direct trade coffee is most closely linked to Intelligentsia Coffee of Chicago in the USA. Intelligentsia describes its third wave roasting and training business as the first to engage in direct trade in 2003. Its Web page includes an image of an airplane to which the following pop-up is linked: “Our focus is not just identifying quality coffee, but developing and rewarding it. To do this means preserving and developing strong relationships despite the considerable distance. At any given time, there is at least one Intelligentsia buyer at origin.” This text raises the question of what constitutes quality coffee. It would appear that “quality coffee” is knowledge that Intelligentsia owns, and which is rewarded financially when replicated to the satisfaction of Intelligentsia. The strength of the relationships in this interaction is closely linked to the meeting of clear conditions and expectations. Indeed, we are reassured that “at any time” an Intelligentsia buyer is applying these conditions to the product. Quality, then, is at least in part achieved by Intelligentsia through its commitment to travelling long distances to oversee the activities and practices of growers. This paternalistic structure is figured in terms of “strong relationships” rather than, perhaps, a rigorous and shrewd business model (which is assumedly the province of mass-market Others).Amid numerous examples found in even a cursory search on the Web, the overwhelming message of direct trade is of good feeling through care. Long term relationships, imagined as virtuous despite the opacity of the negotiation procedure in most cases, narrates the conviction that relationship in and of itself is a good in what might be called the colonial redramatisation staked by an affective coffee economy. Conclusion: Mourning CoffeeIn a paper on happiness, it might appear out of place to reference grief. Yet Jacques Derrida’s explication of friendship in his rousing collection The Work of Mourning is instructive. He writes that death is accommodated and acknowledged “in the undeniable anticipation of mourning that constitutes friendship” (159). Derrida maintains close attention to the productivity and intensity of Otherness in mourning. Thus, friendship is structurally dependent on impending loss, and it follows that there can be no loss without recognising the Otherness of the other, as it were. Given indifference to difference and, hence, loss, it is possible to interpret the friendships affirmed within direct trade practices as supported by a kind of mania. The exuberant dispersal of good feeling through directly traded coffee is narrated by emotional journeys to the primordial beginnings of the happy-making object. That is, fixation upon the object’s brief survival in “primitive” circumstances before its perfect demise in the cup of discerning Western clientele suggests a process of purification through colonising Western knowledges and care. If I may risk a misappropriation of Sara Ahmed’s words; so you make the trip to origin, and you know “just” what to pay for this bean and that. 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Gus Van Sant. Miramax, 1997. Intelligentsia Coffee. “Direct Trade.” 28 Feb. 2012 ‹http://directtradecoffee.com/›. Lyons, James. “Think Seattle, Act Globally: Specialty Coffee, Commodity Biographies and the Promotion of Place.” Cultural Studies 19.1 (2005): 14-34. Manzo, John. “Coffee, Connoisseurship, and an Ethnomethodologically-Informed Sociology of Taste.” Human Studies 33 (2010): 141-55. Melbourne Coffee Merchants. “About Us.” 27 Feb. 2012 ‹http://melbournecoffeemerchants.com.au/about.asp›. Obermiller, Carl, Chauncy Burke, Erin Tablott and Gareth P. Green. “’Taste Great or More Fulfilling’: The Effect of Brand Reputation on Consumer Social Responsibility Advertising for Fair Trade Coffee.” Corporate Reputation Review 12.2 (2009): 159-76. O’Donohoe, Stephanie. “Advertising Uses and Gratifications.” European Journal of Marketing 28.8/9 (1993): 52-75. Smith, Toby. Coffee Trails: A Social and Environment Journey with Toby’s Estate. Sydney: Toby Smith, 2011. Stoler, Ann Laura. Carnal Knowledge and Imperial Power: Race and the Intimate in Colonial Rule. California: U California P, 2002. -----. Haunted by Empire: Geographies of Intimacy in North American History. Durham: Duke UP, 2006. Toby’s Estate. “Toby Smith’s Coffee Trails.” 27 Feb 2012 ‹http://www.tobysestate.com.au/index.php/toby-smith-book-coffee-trails.html›.