Journal articles on the topic 'Solomon Islands Discovery and exploration'

Updated data is an essential requirement for carrying out research, planning, and policy briefs. The Coral reef triangle region is one of the areas with the highest diversity of marine biota and the discovery of new species in this area are increasing every year, much of this information is already available. However, most of the data is not available per region and is still scattered. This study aims to create a checklist and assessment of new species and a new record of fishes from this region over the last ten years based on several aspects, including species composition, pattern of distribution, endemicity, and depth using every source of the report and secondary literature data. The current new species and a new record of fish in the last decades combined consists of 360 species (268 new species and 92 new records). The most speciose group of family dominated by Gobiidae (93), followed by Labridae, Pomacentridae and Serranidae (18), Apogonidae (17), Dasyatidae (15), and the rest were ranged from 1-9 species per family. More than half of new species and new records are found in Indonesia, followed by the Philippines, Papua New Guinea, and Solomon Island. The result shows that cryptobenthic Families especially Gobiidae from genus Trimma and eviota are dominated the trend of new species and new record discovery and it is expected to rise over time while there will also be an emergence of some possibly new endemic species from major and rare families from the eastern part of Indonesia (West Papua and Papua New Guinea). Thus, the eastern part of Indonesia (Papua, Maluku, Aru Sea, and Papua New Guinea) and the northern part of Indonesia (North Sulawesi and Philippine) are suitable for exploration for marine biodiversity discovery research in the future.

The limited petroleum search which has taken place in Pacific island arc areas has focused mainly on deep forearc or intra-arc basins, so far without success. Very few exploration wells have been drilled. The interpretation of the results of marine geophysical and geological surveys and research carried out in the Solomon Islands and Vanuatu, southwestern Pacific, suggests that the thick volcaniclastic depocentres probably lack major petroleum potential. However, the margins of the basins are likely to be much more prospective. Marginal marine environments bordering the basins may generate immense quantities of organic material favourable to petroleum generation, and this material can be fed into deep basins adjacent to reefal reservoirs. In the Solomons and Vanuatu, where no exploration wells have been drilled, this marginal marine play greatly enhances prospectivity - and, by extrapolation, also that of other arc systems. In particular, source beds may be present. Promising target areas in the Solomons and Vanuatu include Iron Bottom Basin adjacent to Guadalcanal, the southwestern flank of the Solomon High from Choiseul through Santa Isabel - Florida Islands - northern Guadalcanal (especially the Manning Strait area), the area between the Shortland Islands and western Choiseul, Vanikolo Basin, the western margins of the North and South Aoba Basins, and possibly the Malekula and Mbokokimbo Basins.

The first account of the genus Copelatus Erichson, 1832 in the Solomon Islands is provided, reporting 10 species for the Archipelago. Six of these are new to science: C. baranensissp. nov., C. laevipennissp. nov., C. urceolussp. nov., and C. variistriatussp. nov. from Guadalcanal and C. bougainvillensissp. nov., and C. kietensissp. nov. from Bougainville. Copelatus tulagicus Guignot, 1942, described from Tulaghi Island of the Solomons, is recorded from Guadalcanal and Santa Isabel for the first time. The widely distributed Australasian C. portior Guignot, 1956 is reported from the Solomon Islands (Guadalcanal and Ontong Java Atoll) for the first time. Two species from Guadalcanal remain unidentified since they are so far known only from a limited number of females.

As part of current research on the taxonomy of the palms (Arecaceae or Palmae) of New Guinea, ten new species of the rattan genus Calamus are described and illustrated here: Calamus baiyerensis, Calamus capillosus, Calamus erythrocarpus, Calamus heatubunii, Calamus jacobsii, Calamus katikii, Calamus kostermansii, Calamus papyraceus, Calamus pintaudii and Calamus superciliatus. An eleventh species, Calamus novae-georgii, from the neighbouring Solomon Islands is also included here. The palm flora of New Guinea now includes 62 species of Calamus, 34 of which have been described since 2002, demonstrating the remarkable scale of botanical discovery on the island.

Rainfall estimation over the Pacific region is difficult due to the large distances between rain gauges and the high convection nature of many rainfall events. This study evaluates space-based rainfall observations over the South West Pacific Region from the Japan Aerospace Exploration Agency’s (JAXA) Global Satellite Mapping of Precipitation (GSMaP), the USA National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration’s (NOAA) Climate Prediction Center morphing technique (CMORPH), the Climate Hazards group Infrared Precipitation with Stations (CHIRPS), and the National Aeronautics and Space Administration’s (NASA) Integrated Multi-Satellite Retrievals for GPM (IMERG). The technique of collocation analysis (CA) is used to compare the performance of monthly satellite precipitation estimates (SPEs). Multi-Source Weighted-Ensemble Precipitation (MSWEP) was used as a reference dataset to compare with each SPE. European Centre for Medium-range Weather Forecasts’ (ECMWF) ERA5 reanalysis was also combined with Soil Moisture-2-Rain–ASCAT (SM2RAIN–ASCAT) to perform triple CA for the six sub-regions of Fiji, New Caledonia, Papua New Guinea (PNG), the Solomon Islands, Timor, and Vanuatu. It was found that GSMaP performed best over low rain gauge density areas, including mountainous areas of PNG (the cross-correlation, CC = 0.64), and the Solomon Islands (CC = 0.74). CHIRPS had the most consistent performance (high correlations and low errors) across all six sub-regions in the study area. Based on the results, recommendations are made for the use of SPEs over the South West Pacific Region.

The excavation of Kilu Cave and the discovery of a Pleistocene prehistory for the Solomon Islands have already been reported in ANTIQUITY by Wickler & Spriggs (62: 703–6). Residue analysis of stone artefacts from the site now provides the earliest direct evidence for the prehistoric use of root vegetables, in the form of starch grains and crystalline raphides identifiable to genus. The direct microscopic identification of starch grains opens new avenues for the study of the plant component of human diets in the distant past.

Almost from its inception The Royal Society has had a particular interest in the seas of the Southern Hemisphere. The Endeavour voyage of circumnavigation in southern waters by James Cook and his naturalist Joseph Banks, which was initiated by the Society, had repercussions—far beyond its original astronomical purpose—in oceanography, biology, exploration and world politics. It left a tradition, which still continues in the Society, of promoting wide-ranging expeditions such as those of the Erebus and Terror , the Challenger and, more recently, those to the Great Barrier Reef, the Solomon Islands, the New Hebrides and the island of Aldabra. The sea areas covered are those lying between the South Polar Front and, approximately, the Equator. Small islands and inshore waters are included but not land-based expeditions, such as those to Southern Chile and the Matto Grosso. The contributions of both the Society and its Fellows acting individually have been numerous and varied but here attention is restricted to three interconnected topics: physical and geological oceanography, biogeography and the genesis of coral reefs.

The following new records are presented: Solomon Islands: Plagiotheciopsis oblonga (Broth.) Broth,; Malaysia: Neckera warburgii Broth. (Himantocladium warburgii (Broth.) Fleisch.); Vietnam: Taiwanobryum speciosum Nog,; Laos: Himantocladium formosicum Broth. & Yas,; India: Thamnobryum alleghaniense (C.Müll.) Nieuwl.; Nepal: Himantocladium cyclophyllum (C.Müll.) Fleisch. and Homaliadelphus targionianus (Mitt.) Dix. & P. Varde; Bhutan: Neckera muratae Nog., N. polyclada C.Müll., Neckeropsis exserta (Hook.) Broth., Himantocladium cyclophyllum, Pinnatella alopecuroides (Hook.) Fleisch., P. calcutensis Fleisch., Porotrichum fruticosum (Brid.) Jaeg. and Handeliobryum sikkimense (Par.) Ochyra. Hypnum schmidii C.Müll. (Thamnobryum schmidii (C.Müll.) Chopra) is lectotypified and synonymized with Thamnobryum alleghaniense. Discovery of the sporophyte of Himantocladium warburgii in dicates that the species belongs to Neckera Hedw.

Three decades of archaeological excavations in Melanesia and Western Polynesia have led to a consensus among Oceanic prehistorians that the initial human colonization of the southwestern Pacific (east of the Solomons) was effected by populations of the Lapita Cultural Complex (Green, 1979; Kirch, 1982, 1984; Allen, 1984; Spriggs, 1984). Although the western Melanesian islands of New Guinea, the Bismarck Archipelago, and possibly the Solomon Islands were settled in the late Pleistocene by small hunter-gatherer populations (Downie & White, 1979; Specht, Lilley & Normu, 1981; Groubeet al, 1986), discovery and occupation by humans of the more remote island chains to the east required sophisticated voyaging and colonization strategies. That the Austronesian-speaking Lapita people possessed long-distance voyaging craft is suggested both by lexical reconstructions, and by the archaeological evidence of long-distance transport of obsidian and other exotic materials over distances of up to 3700km (Ambrose & Green, 1972; Best, 1987). Lapita sites are marked by a distinctive complex of dentate-stamped earthenware ceramics, and associated shell, bone, and stone artifacts. Sites yielding such assemblages have been recorded between the Bismarck Archipelago in the west, through Melanesia, and as far east as Samoa and Tonga, a straight-line distance of ca 4500km.

The sporophytes of the genus Herbertus are rare or completely absent in some areas. The first discovery of the sporophyte of Herbertus in Europe, on H. sendtneri from a herbarium specimen collected in Austria in 1851, is reported here. We report that finely papillose spores characterize Herbertus species which have originated in the Northern Hemisphere, whereas the spores of the species which have originated in the Southern Hemisphere are tuberculate or shortly spinulose. Based on morphological studies of over 600 herbarium specimens of Herbertus, supported by previously published molecular phylogenetic studies, H. armitanus and H. circinatus are new synonyms of H. sendtneri. It is distinct from other Northern Hemisphere species by its coarsely toothed leaf base, despite large variation in leaf size and shape, and leaf apex cilia. The range of H. sendtneri is now extended to east Africa (Tanzania) and Malesia (Papua New Guinea and the Solomon Islands).

In our Age of the Discovery of Space, many people still enjoy commemorating the Age of Global Exploration and Discovery. In 1992, the 500th anniversary of Columbus' epic voyage to the Caribbean islands off the American continent was celebrated in Spain and America, and in 1998 and 2000 Portugal also commemorated its Age of Descobrimentos in Africa, South America and Asia. Various campaigns are underway in China to celebrate in 2004 the 600th (!) anniversary of the great expeditions by Admiral Zheng Ho to South Asia and Africa. Most of these festivities, meant to foster international awareness in the current Age of Globalisation, have met with mixed reactions among the peoples who were ‘discovered’.

On 21 July 1904, just over 80 years ago, the barque-rigged, Norwegian-built auxiliary steamship Scotia sailed home up the Clyde with members of the Scottish National Antarctic Expedition (SNAE), concluding one of the most successful expeditions of the heroic period of Antarctic exploration. Contemporaneous with the more spectacular British Antarctic Expedition (1901–03) commanded by Robert Falcon Scott, the Scotia party under William Spiers Bruce had overwintered on Laurie Island (60° 44ʹ S, 44° 50ʹ W) in the South Orkney Islands, explored for the first time the oceanography of the Weddell Sea, assembled an important collection of scientific material, and discovered Coats Land, an icebound stretch of the East Antarctica coast.While Scott's Discovery expedition had emphasized geographical exploration inland from the Ross Sea sector of Antarctica, Bruce in the Scotia had concentrated more on scientific discovery in the Weddell Sea sector. On 12 November 1904 in Edinburgh, members of the Scotia and Discovery expeditions were guests at the 20th anniversary dinner of the Royal Scottish Geographical Society, Bruce and Scott together responding to a presidential toast that honoured the success of both.

The Timor Sea, comprising the Territory of Ashmore and Cartier Islands and adjacent waters, is emerging as a major Australian oil- producing area which will contribute significantly to the national economy and Australia's oil self- sufficiency in the 1990s. From the Jabiru field alone, Timor Sea oil production contributes 9 per cent of Australia's oil production. The Timor Sea will soon rank second only to Bass Strait in terms of daily production from any one area. If success rates are maintained, Timor Sea could be producing 200 000 BOPD (32 000 kL/d) by the mid- 1990s.Early phases of exploration in the area focused on the detection and drilling of large structures. Success rates were low, mainly because of poor quality seismic data which hindered structural definition and lack of geological understanding as to the controls of hydrocarbon accumulations. Since the Jabiru discovery in 1983, better exploration methods have resulted in the delineation of many prospects which could contain significant oil reserves. New play concepts being developed will result in additional prospects.Economic forecasting and modelling are key factors in determining exploration and development project viability in the area, owing to the wide range in size of the prospects and discoveries. Assuming current economic factors remain in place, modelling indicates that field sizes likely to be found in the Timor Sea will be commercial.

El presente texto es la introducción de autor y la transcripción del manuscrito que fray Ignacio Muñoz preparó para el rey Carlos II y el Consejo de Indias en respuesta al proyecto enviado a dichas autoridades por don Andrés de Medina Dávila, quien propuso la conquista de las Islas Salomón aprovechando los buques de la nao de China que circulaban entre las Filipinas y la Nueva España, así como el fortalecimiento de la fe católica en las Islas Marianas.

Available data for 2018 indicates that exploration activity is on the rise in Australia, compared to 2017, and this represents a second year of growth in exploration activity in Australia. There has been an increase in area under licence by 92 000 km2, reversing the downward trend in area under licence that commenced in 2014. Since 2016, exploratory drilling within Australia has seen a continued upward trend in both the number of wells drilled and the percentage of total worldwide. Onshore, 77 conventional exploration and appraisal wells were spudded during the year. Offshore, exploration and appraisal drilling matched that seen in 2017, with five new wells spudded: two in the Roebuck Basin, two in the Gippsland Basin and one in the North Carnarvon Basin. Almost 1500 km of 2D seismic and over 10 000 km2 of 3D seismic were acquired within Australia during 2018, accounting for 2.4% and 3.9% of global acquisition, respectively. This represents an increase in the amount of both 2D and 3D seismic acquired in Australia compared with 2017. Once the 2017 Offshore Petroleum Acreage Release was finalised, seven new offshore exploration permits were awarded as a result. A total of 12 bids were received for round one of the 2018 Offshore Petroleum Exploration Release, demonstrating an increase in momentum for offshore exploration in Australia. The permits are in Commonwealth waters off Western Australia, Victoria and the Ashmore and Cartier islands. In June 2018, the Queensland Government announced the release of 11 areas for petroleum exploration acreage in onshore Queensland, with tenders closing in February/March 2019; a further 11 areas will be released in early 2019. The acreage is a mix of coal seam gas and conventional oil and gas. Victoria released five areas in the offshore Otway Basin within State waters. In the Northern Territory, the moratorium on fracking was lifted in April, clearing the way for exploration to recommence in the 2019 dry season. With the increase in exploration has come an increase in success, with total reserves discovered within Australia during 2018 at just under 400 million barrels of oil equivalent, representing a significant increase from 2017. In 2018, onshore drilling resulted in 18 new discoveries, while offshore, two new discoveries were made. The most notable exploration success of 2018 was Dorado-1 drilled in March by Quadrant and Carnarvon Petroleum in the underexplored Bedout Sub-basin. Dorado is the largest oil discovery in Australia of 100 million barrels, or over, since 1996 and has the potential to reinvigorate exploration in the region.

AbstractThe Laggan–Tormore development was sanctioned in 2010: the two fields are produced by subsea systems, tied back to the Shetland Islands where the hydrocarbons are processed in the Shetland Gas Plant. A key aspect of the Laggan–Tormore development was the inclusion of in-line tees in the flowlines to allow future tie-ins. This paper highlights the opportunities now available for further gas developments West of Shetland and describes the efforts performed by Total and its co-venturers during the period 2010–15 in order to take advantage of the new gas infrastructure. Three exploration wells were drilled by Total and its co-venturers around the facilities during this period. The Tomintoul well turned out to be dry despite a positive amplitude v. offset (AVO) anomaly. Edradour, whilst a gas discovery, was not big enough to make an economical tie-back to the Laggan–Tormore facilities. The third exploration well Spinnaker was disappointing. All undeveloped gas resources around the facilities were evaluated and Glenlivet was clearly the most attractive. Studies demonstrated that a joint Edradour–Glenlivet development would be economical; the Field Development Plan was approved in March 2015 and the Glenlivet development drilling campaign took place during the summer of 2015. Total continues an intensive exploration programme West of Shetland on its wide acreage, hoping to bring additional projects in the future.

Exploration in the Faroe–Shetland Basin on the Faroese Continental Shelf has revealed thick and complex volcanic successions and discovery of inter-volcanic oil-bearing siliciclastic sandstone fan deposits in the central parts of the basin. The possibility for such play types at the fringe of the North Atlantic Igneous Province requires a better understanding of the interaction between competing sedimentary and volcanic depositional transport systems. We have re-examined volcanic units in cuttings from exploration wells in the greater Judd Sub-basin area for evaluation of facies and geochemical affinity. This allows for chemostratigraphical correlation of wells to the absolute radiometrically age-constrained Faroe Islands Basalt Group. The collective well data were subsequently tied to a regional interpretation of 2D seismic data which facilitated a detailed interpretation of temporal development of the volcanic successions in the Judd Sub-basin area in terms of geometry, volcanic facies, depositional environment, and interdigitation with non-volcanic sedimentary units.The Judd Sub-basin was influenced by major volcanic phases during pre-breakup and syn-breakup. The influence was both direct, in the form of volcanic deposits, and indirect, in the form of obstructing established sedimentary transport systems and creating new provenance areas. The volcanic transport systems reached different areas of the Judd Sub-basin at different times during pre-breakup volcanism. The earliest incursion in the west was during late Mid Paleocene (T-sequence T31/T32). With at least three stratigraphically discrete incursions of volcanic material into the Judd Sub-basin, possibilities arise for sub- and inter-volcanic stratigraphic and structural traps for each incursion.

Recent exploration activity in the peripheral regions of the Shetland‐Faeroe Basin, offshore northwest Scotland, has led to the discovery of some of the largest oil reserves on the United Kingdom (UK) continental shelf. We present results from two ocean‐bottom seismometer profiles acquired by Mobil North Sea Ltd. across the center of the Shetland‐Faeroe Basin. These data provide a powerful tool for delineating long‐wavelength velocity variations and thus have potential for reducing the nonuniqueness associated with conventional seismic exploration methods. Analysis of the first‐arrival traveltime data using both forward and inverse ray‐based techniques produces a well constrained velocity‐depth model of the basin fill. We estimate that the uncertainty in the velocity structure is ±5% from a series of trial and error perturbations applied to the final models. The velocity structure of the Faeroe Basin has three principal layers: (1) a near‐surface layer with velocities in the range 1.6 to 2.2 km/s, (2) a 3.0–3.2 km/s layer which is characterized by a northwards structural pinch out in the center of the basin, and (3) a deeper laterally heterogeneous layer with velocities in the range 3.8 to 4.2 km/s. In the northwestern portion of the basin, a high velocity (5.0 km/s) basaltic layer is imaged dipping toward the southeast at a depth of 2–3 km. The basement is mapped at a depth of 7–9 km in the center of the basin. Gravity modeling provides independent corroboration of our models through the application of a velocity‐density relationship obtained from a synthesis of physical property measurements. Reflections from the Moho indicate a crustal thickness of 18 ± 3 km, suggesting that the basin is underlain by highly attenuated continental crust, but the velocities in the basement are closer to those of the Faeroe Islands basalts than the expected Lewisian gneiss, suggesting that it may be highly intruded.

Abstract Accurate species delimitation is important, especially for endangered species. As one of the most conspicuous bivalve taxa, giant clams are threatened throughout their geographic range. Many phylogeographic studies have revealed strong population structure among giant clams in the Indo-Pacific, suggesting cryptic diversity within these species. However, less attention has been paid to their identification and delimitation. In this study, we assembled a comprehensive dataset of mitochondrial cytochrome c oxidase subunit I (COI) sequences for Tridacna species, focusing on new sequences from Hainan Island in the South China Sea and previously published ones from Japan, Taiwan, Singapore, the Philippines, Indonesia, Australia, the Solomon Islands and the Red Sea. Three nominal species, Tridacna crocea, T. squamosa and T. noae, were recognized at Hainan Island on the basis of distance-based DNA barcoding, with mean interspecific K2P distances of 10.6–24.7% for seven Tridacna species (T. crocea, T. squamosa, T. noae, T. maxima, T. mbalavuana, T. derasa and T. gigas). The most abundant species, T. noae, represents the first record of this species from Hainan Island. Using a combination of phylogenetic and DNA-based species delimitation analyses (automatic barcode gap discovery, generalized mixed Yule coalescent and Bayesian Poisson tree processes), we found strong support for a total of 13 operational taxonomic units (OTUs) for the seven nominal Tridacna species. These results, coupled with the fact that each OTU occupies different regions in the Indo-Pacific, strongly suggest multiple cryptic species of giant clams. Our findings point to the need for taxonomic revisionary work on giant clams throughout the Indo-Pacific; such work will have important conservation implications.

Books with titles like ‘The Call of the Wild’ seemed to set a path for a life. Thus, I would be an explorer—a plan that did not work out so well, at least at first. On leaving school I got a job as a ‘Works Chemist Improver’, testing Ni catalysts for the hydrogenation of phenol to cyclohexanol. Taking night classes I passed enough exams to study geology at Queen Mary College, London. Armed thus I travelled to the Solomon Islands where geology is a ‘happening’! Next was Canada to visit a mine sunk into a 1.5 billion year old Pb–Zn orebody precipitated from submarine hot springs. At last I reached the Yukon to prospect for silver. Thence to Ireland researching what I also took to be ‘exhalative’ (i.e. hot spring-related) Pb–Zn orebodies. While there in 1979, the discovery of 350°C metal-bearing acidic waters issuing from submarine Black Smoker chimneys in the Pacific sent us searching for fossil examples in the Irish mines. However, the chimneys we found were more like chemical gardens than Black Smokers, a finding that made us think about the emergence of life. After all, what better for life's emergence than to have a membrane comprising Fe minerals dosed with Ni in our chimneys to mediate the ‘hydrogenation’ of CO 2 —life's job anyway. Indeed, such a membrane would keep redox and pH disequilibria at bay, just like biological membranes. At the same time, my field research among Alpine ophiolites—ocean floor mafic rocks obducted to the Alps—indicated that alkaline waters bearing H 2 and CH 4 were a result of serpentinization, a process that must have operated in all ocean floors over all time. Thus it was that we could predict the Lost City hydrothermal field 10 years before its discovery in the North Atlantic in the year 2000. Lost City comprises a number of alkaline springs at up to 90°C that produce carbonate and brucite (Mg[OH] 2 ) chimneys. We had surmised that Ni-enriched FeS chimneys would have precipitated at comparable alkaline springs issuing into a metal-rich carbonic ocean on the very early Earth (inducing membrane potentials comparable to those capable of succouring all life, and presumably, sufficient to drive life into being). However, our laboratory precipitates also revealed green rust, thought to be the precursor to the magnetite now comprising the Archaean Banded Iron Formations. We now look upon green rust, also known as fougèrite, as the tangible, base fractal of life.

Brazilian offshore crude oil exploration has increased after the discovery of new reservoirs in the region known as pré-sal, in a depth of 7.000 m under the water surface. Oceanic islands near these areas represent sensitive environments, where changes in microbial communities due oil contamination could stand for the loss of metabolic functions, with catastrophic effects to the soil services provided from these locations. This work aimed to evaluate the effect of petroleum contamination on microbial community shifts (Archaea, Bacteria and Fungi) from Trindade Island coastal soils. Microcosms were assembled and divided in two treatments, control and contaminated (weathered crude oil at the concentration of 30 g kg−1), in triplicate. Soils were incubated for 38 days, with CO2measurements every four hours. After incubation, the total DNA was extracted, purified and submitted for target sequencing of 16S rDNA, for Bacteria and Archaea domains and Fungal ITS1 region, using the Illumina MiSeq platform. Three days after contamination, the CO2emission rate peaked at more than 20 × the control and the emissions remained higher during the whole incubation period. Microbial alpha-diversity was reduced for contaminated-samples. Fungal relative abundance of contaminated samples was reduced to almost 40% of the total observed species. Taxonomy comparisons showed rise of the Actinobacteria phylum, shifts in several Proteobacteria classes and reduction of the Archaea class Nitrososphaerales. This is the first effort in acquiring knowledge concerning the effect of crude oil contamination in soils of a Brazilian oceanic island. This information is important to guide any future bioremediation strategy that can be required.

SummaryThe Timor Bush Warbler Locustella timorensis was first collected by Georg Stein on Mount Mutis, West Timor in 1932, but there have been no confirmed field observations since. Here we report on the discovery of a new population of bush warbler on Alor (9 September 2009), which prompted a search for, and subsequent rediscovery, of the nominate Timor Bush Warbler (20 December 2009) in Timor-Leste. We also undertook the first bush warbler searches in the mountains on Atauro Island, and the first ornithological exploration of the mountains of Pantar and Wetar islands. On Alor, at least 13 male bush warblers were heard singing from shrub and grass beneath woodland and forest edge at 859–1,250 m. On Timor, at least 40 males were heard during December, April and July from tall grassland below Mount Ramelau (1,720–2,100 m), Timor-Leste. The song structure of the Alor and Timor birds is similar, and close to Javan Bush Warbler L. montis of Java and Bali, as well as to recordings of Russet Bush Warbler L. mandelli of mainland Asia and Benguet Bush Warbler L. seebohmi from the Philippines. The song of the Alor bird is substantially higher pitched (mean min/max 3,233–4,980 kHz) than the Timor bird (2,928–4,761 kHz) and both are substantially higher pitched than Javan birds. Recordings of Russet Bush Warbler from mainland Asia are higher pitched than songs of all insular taxa, and the song of Benguet Bush Warbler is of a similar pitch to the Timor bird. Recent molecular studies have found that divergences between Javan Bush Warbler and the Russet Bush Warbler are slight, and the high degree of song similarity of the Alor and Timor populations to Javan Bush Warbler places them close to the Benguet Bush Warbler complex. The Timor Bush Warbler is recognised as ‘Near Threatened’ by IUCN, but this will require re-evaluation. On Alor, suitable habitat is extensive and under little threat, but grassland in the uplands of West and East Timor is intensively grazed and regularly burnt. Further field surveys are needed on both Timor and Alor to capture birds, clarify taxonomic relationships using molecular approaches, and further define habitat use and conservation status. Bush warblers were not recorded from Pantar, Atauro and Wetar islands.

Researchers keen to examine the representation of native people in European accounts of exploration and travel need bring under review the mechanism by which field notes became books, and, once they were books, the multiplicity and diffusion of editions, often themselves quite different from one another. An example that illustrates well this need is British Royal Naval Captain James Cook's posthumously published account of his third voyage to the Pacific Ocean in the years 1776-80. The standard scholarly source is J.C. Beaglehole's monumental edition, The Journals of Captain James Cook on His Voyages of Discovery (1955-74), a twenty-year editing project for the Hakluyt Society, which made available for the first time Cook's own writings until his death at Kealakekua Bay, Sandwich Islands (Hawaii), on 14 February 1779, during the third voyage. However, the need for Beaglehole's project arose, according to the president of the Hakluyt Society, because the original publications differed very widely from Cook's own writings. They were “official” accounts, published by order of George III, and they performed that always interesting exercise—they “improved” on Cook's own writings. It is well known that Cook did not prepare his journals for the press: in the case of the first two voyages to the Pacific, this was his choice. In the case of the third, the choice was not his to make, he being five years deceased. How wide are those differences?In the case of Cook's description of a month-long mooring in Nootka Sound, on the west coast of Vancouver Island, do substantive differences occur between Cook's logs and journal and Bishop John Douglas' edition? Answering that question necessarily involves consulting first editions of the various published accounts.

Within the Conidae family, the piscivorous Conus species have been a hotspot target for drug discovery. Here, we assess the relevance of Conus and their other feeding habits, and thus under distinctive evolutionary constraints, to highlight the potential of neglected molluscivorous and vermivorous species in biomedical research and pharmaceutical industry. By singling out the areas with inadequate Conus disquisition, such as the Tamil Nadu Coast and the Andaman Islands, research resources can be expanded and better protected through awareness. In this study, 728 Conus species and 190 species from three other genera (1 from Californiconus, 159 from Conasprella and 30 from Profundiconus) in the Conidae family are assessed. The phylogenetic relationships of the Conidae species are determined and their known feeding habits superimposed. The worm-hunting species appeared first, and later the mollusc- and fish-hunting species were derived independently in the Neogene period (around 23 million years ago). Interestingly, many Conus species in the warm and shallow waters become polyphagous, allowing them to hunt both fish and worms, given the opportunities. Such newly gained trait is multi originated. This is controversial, given the traditional idea that most Conus species are specialized to hunt certain prey categories. However, it shows the functional complexity and great potential of conopeptides from some worm-eating species. Pharmaceutical attempts and relevant omics data have been differentially obtained. Indeed, data from the fish-hunting species receive strong preference over the worm-hunting ones. Expectedly, conopeptides from the fish-hunting species are believed to include the most potential candidates for biomedical research. Our work revisits major findings throughout the Conus evolution and emphasizes the importance of increasing omics surveys complemented with further behavior observation studies. Hence, we claim that Conus species and their feeding habits are equally important, highlighting many places left for Conus exploration worldwide. We also discuss the Conotoxin drug discovery potentials and the urgency of protecting the bioresources of Conus species. In particular, some vermivorous species have demonstrated great potential in malaria therapy, while other conotoxins from several worm- and mollusc-eating species exhibited explicit correlation with SARS-CoV-2. Reclaiming idle data with new perspectives could also promote interdisciplinary studies in both virological and toxicological fields.

The Citronen Fjord massive sulphide deposit in the Lower Palaeozoic of North Greenland is the world's most northerly base metal mineralization. Since discovery in 1993, it has been intensively investigated by geological and geophysical surveys, and by drilling. The deposit is generally flat lying with a thickness up to 50 m; it extends from outcrop level to depths of 300 m. Three main stratiform sulphide sheets occur within a 200 m thick stratigraphic sequence; these are composed of massive and bedded pyrite with variable amounts of sphalerite and minor galena. The proven mineralization is continuous over a strike length of at least 3 km with a maximum width of 500 m; an additional 5 km of mineralization along the same trend is suggested by geological mapping and gravity surveys. The total tonnage of sulphides is estimated to exceed 350 million tons. The overall base metal resource is estimated at 20 million tons of 7 per cent zinc, with a higher grade core of 7 million tons containing 9 per cent zinc and 1 per cent lead. The Citronen Fjord deposit is located at the eastern end of the Palaeozoic Franklinian Basin that extends through the Arctic Islands of Canada and across northern Greenland. Its discovery is an example of a successful exploration strategy based on regional evaluation, sparse but telltale surface mineralization observations and low-cost logistics: a skidoo-sledge expedition. The stratiform mineralization is hosted in the dark argillaceous rocks of the Amundsen Land Group of latest Ordovician to Early Silurian age that comprises a starved basin sequence of cherts and shales with siltstones and mudstones, punctuated by carbonate debris flow conglomerates derived from the nearby southern carbonate shelf. The Lower Palaeozoic strata at Citronen Fjord are part of the southern margin of the North Greenland Fold Belt characterized by southerly-facing folds and thrust faults. A new geological map of the Citronen Fjord area is presented featuring Cambrian, Ordovician and Silurian strata, with two north-south cross-sections illustrating the main structure. Twelve informally-named lithostratigraphic units are recognized and comments given on correlation to the regional stratigraphy. Tectonic contacts separate Lower Cambrian strata from the Ordovician-Silurian part of the succession. It is concluded that the Citronen Fjord stratigraphy could be of local development in a sub-basin controlled by syn-genetic faults. The lead-zinc deposit is interpreted to be of sedimentary-exhalative origin formed by the precipitation of sulphides from metal-bearing fluids introduced onto the sea-floor through underlying fractures. The significant components of this deposition model include the existence of a tensional tectonic regime, deep-seated fractures and a restricted sub-basin morphology. Massive to dendritic-textured pyrite is interpreted to represent vent-facies deposition while the bedded sulphides are taken to be the corresponding distal facies. The precise tectonic control of the fractures is debatable, as is the role of the so-called Navarana Fjord Escarpment - a palaeo-topographic feature marking the junction between shelf and trough that is assumed to lie immediately to the south of the Citronen Fjord.

The Citronen Fjord massive sulphide deposit in the Lower Palaeozoic of North Greenland is the world's most northerly base metal mineralization. Since discovery in 1993, it has been intensively investigated by geological and geophysical surveys, and by drilling. The deposit is generally flat lying with a thickness up to 50 m; it extends from outcrop level to depths of 300 m. Three main stratiform sulphide sheets occur within a 200 m thick stratigraphic sequence; these are composed of massive and bedded pyrite with variable amounts of sphalerite and minor galena. The proven mineralization is continuous over a strike length of at least 3 km with a maximum width of 500 m; an additional 5 km of mineralization along the same trend is suggested by geological mapping and gravity surveys. The total tonnage of sulphides is estimated to exceed 350 million tons. The overall base metal resource is estimated at 20 million tons of 7 per cent zinc, with a higher grade core of 7 million tons containing 9 per cent zinc and 1 per cent lead. The Citronen Fjord deposit is located at the eastern end of the Palaeozoic Franklinian Basin that extends through the Arctic Islands of Canada and across northern Greenland. Its discovery is an example of a successful exploration strategy based on regional evaluation, sparse but telltale surface mineralization observations and low-cost logistics: a skidoo-sledge expedition. The stratiform mineralization is hosted in the dark argillaceous rocks of the Amundsen Land Group of latest Ordovician to Early Silurian age that comprises a starved basin sequence of cherts and shales with siltstones and mudstones, punctuated by carbonate debris flow conglomerates derived from the nearby southern carbonate shelf. The Lower Palaeozoic strata at Citronen Fjord are part of the southern margin of the North Greenland Fold Belt characterized by southerly-facing folds and thrust faults. A new geological map of the Citronen Fjord area is presented featuring Cambrian, Ordovician and Silurian strata, with two north-south cross-sections illustrating the main structure. Twelve informally-named lithostratigraphic units are recognized and comments given on correlation to the regional stratigraphy. Tectonic contacts separate Lower Cambrian strata from the Ordovician-Silurian part of the succession. It is concluded that the Citronen Fjord stratigraphy could be of local development in a sub-basin controlled by syn-genetic faults. The lead-zinc deposit is interpreted to be of sedimentary-exhalative origin formed by the precipitation of sulphides from metal-bearing fluids introduced onto the sea-floor through underlying fractures. The significant components of this deposition model include the existence of a tensional tectonic regime, deep-seated fractures and a restricted sub-basin morphology. Massive to dendritic-textured pyrite is interpreted to represent vent-facies deposition while the bedded sulphides are taken to be the corresponding distal facies. The precise tectonic control of the fractures is debatable, as is the role of the so-called Navarana Fjord Escarpment - a palaeo-topographic feature marking the junction between shelf and trough that is assumed to lie immediately to the south of the Citronen Fjord.

AbstractThe Dunbar, Ellon and Grant oil and gas fields (also known as the Alwyn South area) are located in the southeastern part of the East Shetland Basin, approximately 140 km E of the Shetland Islands. Most of the accumulations lie in Blocks 3/9, 3/14 and 3/15, which are parts of Licence P090 operated by Total Oil Marine pic (33.33%) with Elf Exploration UK PLC as sole partner (66.67%). Ellon was discovered in 1972, Dunbar in 1973 and Grant in 1977. Dunbar consists of a number of generally N-S trending, westerly dipping Mesozoic fault blocks with variable amounts of crestal erosion. Reservoir is provided by fluvial, deltaic and shallow marine sandstones of the Middle Jurassic Brent Group, Lower Jurassic Statfjord Formation and Upper Triassic Upper Lunde Formation. The Brent oil composition of Dunbar varies with depth and evolves from volatile oil at the base of the column to gas condensate at the top without a discontinuity of composition. In addition there is a small gas accumulation within a Paleocene submarine fan reservoir in a compactional structure.Ellon consists of two westerly dipping fault blocks with gas condensate contained within the Brent Group. Grant is one westerly dipping fault block with gas condensate in the Brent Group. In both the Ellon panels and also in Grant, thin waxy oil 'rims' are found below the gas. The depth of the shallowest structural crest within the Alwyn South complex is 3100 m TVDSS, with the deepest proven hydrocarbon at around 3800 m TVDSS. Sealing for the Alwyn South accumulations is provided by various combinations of Cretaceous, Upper Jurassic (Heather and Kimmeridge Clay Formations) and Lower Jurassic (Dunlin Group) mudstones. The source rock for the hydrocarbons is the Upper Jurassic Kimmeridge Clay Formation, which is mature and adjacent to the fields.These accumulations are being developed from a tender-assisted minimally manned fixed platform with a total of 28 well slots located over the Dunbar Field, in a water depth of 145 m. The Ellon and Grant Fields are produced as sub-sea satellites to Dunbar from a well-head cluster located between Ellon and Grant, in a water depth of 135 m. First oil and gas production from Dunbar and Ellon was in December 1994 and gas production commenced from Grant in July 1998. The time lag between discovery and development reflects the complex geology (structure, compartmentalization, reservoir thickness variations, dia-genesis and differing hydrocarbon compositions) with a total of 28 exploration and appraisal wells being drilled in the Alwyn South area between 1971 and 1998. Total oil and gas initially in place is in the order of 850 MMBBL and 2.62 TCF respectively, with the current estimate for ultimate recoverable reserves being 200 MMBBL liquids and 1.28 TCF gas.

AbstractThe Brent Field was the first discovery in the northern part of the North Sea, and is one of the largest hydrocarbon accumulations in the United Kingdom licence area. There are two separate major accumulations: one in the Middle Jurassic (Brent Group reservoir) and one in the Lower Jurassic/Triassic (Statfjord Formation reservoir). The field lies entirely within UK licence Block 211/29 at latitude 61°N and longitude 2°E. The water depth is 460 ft. The discovery well was drilled in 1971, and six further exploration and appraisal wells were drilled. Seismic data over the Brent Field has been acquired in three separate vintages. The latest acquisition is a 3-D grid recorded in 1986. Reprocessing of the entire 1986 3-D seismic data set was initiated in 1989.The original oil/condensate-in-place, estimated on 1/1/89, is 3500 MMBBL, and the estimated original wet gas-in-place is 6700 TCF. Oil production is now in the decline phase. Average production in 1988 was 334,000 BOPD, with gas sales remaining at the plateau rate of 500 MMSCFD.The field is being developed from four fixed platforms, each providing production, water injection and gas injection facilities for both Brent and Statfjord Formation reservoirs. Gas injection is distributed to achieve an intermediate oil rim development in some reservoir units. The platforms were installed between 1975 and 1978. Production commenced in 1976. The slump faulted crestal areas of both reservoirs have yet to be developed.These crestal areas contain about 5% of the recoverable reserves. Appraisal drilling was carried out in the crest during 1988 and 1989.The Brent Field is located approximately 100 miles north-east of the Shetland Islands and 300 miles NNE of Aberdeen (Fig. 1). The discovery well location is at latitude 61°05'53.87" North longitude 1°41'30.H" East. The water depth is 460 ftThe field comprises two distinct reservoirs, the Brent Group and the Statfjord Formation, which are of Middle Jurassic and Lower Jurassic/Triassic age respectively. The reservoirs occur in a westerly dipping tilted fault block in a fault controlled unconformity trap (Fig. 2).The size of the hydrocarbon bearing area is approximately 10 miles from north to south and 3 miles from east to west (Fig. 3).The reservoirs are in turn divided into seven separate reservoir units; four cycles in the Brent Group reservoir and three units in the Statfjord Formation reservoir. Laterally two major east-west orientated faults divide the field into three separate production areas. A fourth area is the north-south orientated crestal part of both reservoirs, which is faulted and has a series of down faulted slump blocks overlain by 'Reworked Sediment'. This area still has to be developed.The Shell/Esso joint venture North Sea oilfields are named after water and waterside birds. The Brent Field is named after the Brent goose.

TotalEnergies Drills Dry Hole Offshore Suriname TotalEnergies has plugged and abandoned its Keskesi South-1 on Block 58 offshore Suriname after encountering noncommercial quantities of hydrocarbons. Keskesi South-1 was drilled about 6.2 km from the discovery well Keskesi East-1. “The first appraisal well at Keskesi was a substantial stepout designed to assess the southern extent of the feature,” said Tracey K. Henderson, senior vice president, exploration at APA, a partner in the block. “This location had the potential to confirm a very large resource in place if connected to the reservoir sands in the discovery well. However, suitable reservoir-quality sands were not developed in the Campanian target at the Keskesi South-1 location. Data gathered from the well will be used to calibrate our geologic model and inform the next steps for Keskesi appraisal.” Semisubmersible Maersk Developer has moved to the Sapakara South-1 well, where it will conduct a flow test of the previously announced appraisal success. Following the completion of the Sapakara South-1 flow test, the exploration program will continue with the spud of the Krabdagoe prospect just to the east of Keskesi. Drillship Maersk Valiant is currently drilling Bonboni, the first exploration prospect in the northern portion of Block 58. Both rigs are operated by TotalEnergies. APA Suriname holds a 50% working interest in the block, with TotalEnergies, the operator, holding the remaining 50% stake. Harbour Abandons Falklands Plan, Will Exit Basins in Brazil, Mexico Harbour Energy (formed with the merger of Premier and Chrysaor) announced it will not proceed with the Sea Lion development in the Falkland Islands. The producer will instead focus on the successful integration of Premier Oil’s assets. Sea Lion, discovered in 2010 by Rockhopper, is estimated to hold more than 500 million bbl, but development startup has been stuck in neutral. Rockhopper intends to pursue the project and will talk with other operators about participating in the wake of Harbour’s exit. Harbour also revealed plans to exit exploration license interests in the Ceará basin in Brazil and the Burgos basin in Mexico. The operator said it wants to reinvest in lower-risk opportunities in regions where the company already has a presence. Harbour is the largest UK-listed independent oil and gas producer with most of its assets located in Southeast Asia and the North Sea. BP Starts Production at Thunder Horse Expansion BP confirmed it started oil and gas production at its Thunder Horse South Phase 2 offshore expansion project in the US Gulf of Mexico. The project comprises two subsea drill centers in 6,350 ft of water. They are connected to BP’s Thunder Horse production and drilling platform by 10-in. dual flowlines and are expected to add up to 25,000 B/D of production. The scope of the expansion will see a total of eight wells brought online, adding as much as 50,000 B/D of production. “This is another significant milestone for BP, completing the delivery of our planned major projects for 2021,” said Ewan Drummond, BP senior vice president, projects, production, and operations. “This project is a great example of the type of fast-payback, high-return tieback opportunities we continue to deliver as we focus and high-grade our portfolio.” BP operates Thunder Horse with a 75% stake; ExxonMobil holds 25%. The Phase 2 expansion project is part of BP’s plans to grow its Gulf of Mexico oil and gas production to around 400,000 B/D by the middle of the decade. ReconAfrica Granted Extension in Namibia Reconnaissance Energy Africa (ReconAfrica) and its joint venture partner NAMCOR (the state oil company of Namibia) said the Ministry of Mines and Energy has granted a 1-year extension of the first renewal period to 29 January 2023, relating to the approximate 6.3-million-acre (PEL) 73 exploration license, due to the impacts of the pandemic. ReconAfrica holds a 90% interest in PEL 73 covering portions of northeast Namibia. The exploration license covers the entire Kavango sedimentary basin. Eni Achieves First Oil at Cabaça North off Angola Eni has started production from the Cabaça North development project in Block 15/06 of the Angolan deep offshore, via the Armada Olombendo FPSO vessel. The development, with an expected peak production rate in the range of 15,000 B/D, will increase and sustain the plateau of the FPSO with an overall capacity of 100,000 B/D. This is the second startup achieved by Eni Angola in 2021, after the Cuica early production achieved in July. A third startup is expected within the next few months, with the Ndungu early production in the western area of Block 15/06. Block 15/06 is operated by Eni Angola with a 36.84% share. Sonangol Pesquisa e Produção (36.84%) and SSI Fifteen Limited (26.32%) are joint venture partners. Further to Block 15/06, Eni is the operator of exploration blocks Cabinda North, Cabinda Centro, 1/14, and 28, as well as of the New Gas Consortium (NGC). In addition, Eni has stakes in the nonoperated blocks 0 (Cabinda), 3/05, 3/05A, 14, 14 K/A-IMI, and 15, and in the Angola LNG project. Gas Production at Groningen To Cease Next Year The Netherlands plans to end gas production at the large Groningen field next year, the Dutch government recently confirmed. Output at Groningen will be cut by more than 50% to 3.9 Bcm in the year through October 2022, which will be the last year of regular production. The recent runup in natural gas prices has not impacted the state’s plans. The Dutch government originally announced Groningen would shutter by mid-2022 to limit seismic risks in the region but left the possibility of emergency production in the event of extreme weather conditions from select sites. To keep these sites operational, around 1.5 Bcm of gas will be produced on a yearly basis, until a main gas storage site can be switched to the use of imported low-calorific gas instead of the high-calorific gas Groningen delivers. The government wants the conversion to happen quickly, but originally thought it would not happen until between 2025 and 2028. Discovered in 1959, the Groningen field is run by Shell and ExxonMobil joint venture NAM. BP Turns on the Taps at Matapal BP Trinidad and Tobago achieved first gas at its Matapal subsea development offshore Trinidad. The project comprises three wells which tie back into the existing Juniper platform. Matapal is located about 80 km off the southeast coast of Trinidad and approximately 8 km east of Juniper, in a water depth of 163 m. Equinor Spuds Egyptian Vulture Well off Norway Equinor has started drilling operations on the Egyptian Vulture exploration well located offshore Norway. According to well partner Longboat Energy, the drilling of the Egyptian Vulture prospect is being undertaken by Seadrill semisubmersible West Hercules. The well is expected to take up to 7 weeks to drill. The exploration probe is targeting gross mean prospective resources of 103 million BOE with further potential upside to bring the total to 208 million BOE on a gross basis. The chance of success associated with this prospect is 25% with the key risk related to reservoir quality and thickness. Longboat has gained access to a drilling program of seven exploration wells in Norway through agreements with three separate companies. Earlier, Vår Energi started drilling the Rødhette exploration well off Norway, the first in a series of seven wells where Longboat will participate as a nonoperator. SBM Secures Large FPSO Financing SBM Offshore has completed the project financing of FPSO Sepetiba for a total of $1.6 billion—the largest project financing in the company’s history. The financing was secured by a consortium of 13 international banks with insurance from Nippon Export, Investment Insurance (NEXI), and SACE SpA. China Export & Credit Insurance Corporation (Sinosure) intends to join this transaction by the end of the year and will replace a portion of the commercial banks’ commitments. Sepetiba is owned and operated by a special-purpose company owned by affiliated companies of SBM Offshore (64.5%) and its partners (35.5%). The vessel has a processing capacity of up to 180,000 B/D of oil, a water-injection capacity of 250,000 B/D, associated gas treatment capacity of 12 MMcf/D and a minimum storage capacity of 1.4 million bbl of crude oil. Sepetiba will be deployed at the Mero field in the Santos Basin offshore Brazil, 180 km offshore Rio de Janeiro. The vessel will be spread-moored in approximately 2000 m water depth. The Libra Block, where the Mero field is located, is under a production-sharing contract to a consortium (PSC) comprising operator Petrobras (40%), Shell Brasil (20%), TotalEnergies (20%), CNODC (10%), and CNOOC Limited (10%). The consortium also has the participation of state-owned Pré-Sal Petróleo SA (PPSA) as manager of the PSC.

-Edward L. Cox, Judith A. Carney, Black rice: The African origin of rice cultivation in the Americas. Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 2001. xiv + 240 pp.-David Barry Gaspar, Brian Dyde, A history of Antigua: The unsuspected Isle. Oxford: Macmillan Education, 2000. xi + 320 pp.-Carolyn E. Fick, Stewart R. King, Blue coat or powdered wig: Free people of color in pre-revolutionary Saint Domingue. Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2001. xxvi + 328 pp.-César J. Ayala, Birgit Sonesson, Puerto Rico's commerce, 1765-1865: From regional to worldwide market relations. Los Angeles: UCLA Latin American Center Publications, 200. xiii + 338 pp.-Nadine Lefaucheur, Bernard Moitt, Women and slavery in the French Antilles, 1635-1848. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2001. xviii + 217 pp.-Edward L. Cox, Roderick A. McDonald, Between slavery and freedom: Special magistrate John Anderson's journal of St. Vincent during the apprenticeship. Jamaica: University of the West Indies Press, 2001. xviii + 309 pp.-Jaap Jacobs, Benjamin Schmidt, Innocence abroad: The Dutch imagination and the new world, 1570-1670. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2001. xxviii + 450 pp.-Wim Klooster, Johanna C. Prins ,The Low countries and the New World(s): Travel, Discovery, Early Relations. Lanham NY: University Press of America, 2000. 226 pp., Bettina Brandt, Timothy Stevens (eds)-Wouter Gortzak, Gert Oostindie ,Knellende koninkrijksbanden: Het Nederlandse dekolonisatiebeleid in de Caraïben, 1940-2000. Volume 1, 1940-1954; Volume 2, 1954-1975; Volume 3, 1975-2000. 668 pp. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2001., Inge Klinkers (eds)-Richard Price, Ellen-Rose Kambel, Resource conflicts, gender and indigenous rights in Suriname: Local, national and global perspectives. Leiden, The Netherlands: self-published, 2002, iii + 266.-Peter Redfield, Richard Price ,Les Marrons. Châteauneuf-le-Rouge: Vents d'ailleurs, 2003. 127 pp., Sally Price (eds)-Mary Chamberlain, Glenford D. Howe ,The empowering impulse: The nationalist tradition of Barbados. Kingston: Canoe Press, 2001. xiii + 354 pp., Don D. Marshall (eds)-Jean Stubbs, Alejandro de la Fuente, A Nation for All: Race, Inequality, and Politics in Twentieth-Century Cuba. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2001. xiv + 449 pp.-Sheryl L. Lutjens, Susan Kaufman Purcell ,Cuba: The contours of Change. Boulder CO: Lynne Rienner, 2000. ix + 155 pp., David J. Rothkopf (eds)-Jean-Germain Gros, Robert Fatton Jr., Haiti's predatory republic: The unending transition to democracy. Boulder CO: Lynn Rienner, 2002. xvi + 237 pp.-Elizabeth McAlister, Beverly Bell, Walking on fire: Haitian Women's Stories of Survival and Resistance. Ithaca NY: Cornell University Press, 2001. xx + 253 pp.-Gérard Collomb, Peter Hulme, Remnants of conquest: The island Caribs and their visitors, 1877-1998. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000. 371 pp.-Chris Bongie, Jeannie Suk, Postcolonial paradoxes in French Caribbean Writing: Césaire, Glissant, Condé. New York: Oxford University Press, 2001. 216 pp.-Marie-Hélène Laforest, Caroline Rody, The Daughter's return: African-American and Caribbean Women's fictions of history. New York: Oxford University Press, 2001. x + 267 pp.-Marie-Hélène Laforest, Isabel Hoving, In praise of new travelers: Reading Caribbean migrant women's writing. Stanford CA: Stanford University Press, 2001. ix + 374 pp.-Catherine Benoît, Franck Degoul, Le commerce diabolique: Une exploration de l'imaginaire du pacte maléfique en Martinique. Petit-Bourg, Guadeloupe: Ibis Rouge, 2000. 207 pp.-Catherine Benoît, Margarite Fernández Olmos ,Healing cultures: Art and religion as curative practices in the Caribbean and its diaspora. New York: Palgrave, 2001. xxi + 236 pp., Lizabeth Paravisini-Gebert (eds)-Jorge Pérez Rolón, Charley Gerard, Music from Cuba: Mongo Santamaría, Chocolate Armenteros and Cuban musicians in the United States. Westport CT: Praeger, 2001. xi + 155 pp.-Ivelaw L. Griffith, Anthony Payne ,Charting Caribbean Development. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2001. xi + 284 pp., Paul Sutton (eds)-Ransford W. Palmer, Irma T. Alonso, Caribbean economies in the twenty-first century. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2002. 232 pp.-Glenn R. Smucker, Jennie Marcelle Smith, When the hands are many: Community organization and social change in rural Haiti. Ithaca NY: Cornell University Press, 2001. xii + 229 pp.-Kevin Birth, Nancy Foner, Islands in the city: West Indian migration to New York. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2001. viii + 304 pp.-Joy Mahabir, Viranjini Munasinghe, Callaloo or tossed salad? East Indians and the cultural politics of identity in Trinidad. Ithaca NY: Cornell University Press, 2001. xv + 315 pp.-Stéphane Goyette, Robert Chaudenson, Creolization of language and culture. Revised in collaboration with Salikoko S. Mufwene. London: Routledge, 2001. xxi + 340 pp.

In the tropics, crustose calcifying red algae (Corallinophycidae and Peyssonneliales; CCRA) are dominant and important reef builders that serve a suite of ecological functions affecting reef health. However, CCRA taxa have historically been overlooked in floristic and ecological studies because of their high degrees of phenotypic plasticity and morphological convergence that impede reliable identifications based on morphology. This study provides an update of the CCRA diversity of Guam (Mariana Islands) based on a recent DNA barcoding effort. This account of CCRA taxa is compared to (1) the most current species inventories for Guam based on morphological identifications and (2) similar floristic accounts of CCRA from other regions using DNA barcoding. 492 CCRA specimens were collected from Guam for which two markers, COI-5P and psbA, were used for phylogenetic analysis and species delimitation. Phylogenetic relationships were inferred using maximum likelihood. Species richness estimates were obtained through a conservative approach using the Automatic Barcode Gap Discovery method for species delimitation. A total of 154 putative CCRA species were identified, with 106 representatives of the subclass Corallinophycidae and 48 belonging to the order Peyssonneliales. When compared to previous studies based on morphological identification, molecular data suggests that all but one of the CCRA species reported for Guam were incorrectly identified and CCRA species richness is more than six times higher than previously assumed. Species accumulation curves show that CCRA species richness will continue to rise with increased sampling effort and the exploration of new (micro)habitats before reaching a plateau. Guam’s true CCRA richness might eventually exceed the currently reported species richness of all marine red algae for the island. Of the 154 putative species documented in this study, only ten closely match (≥ 98% COI-5P sequence similarity) previously described species, implying that many are probably new species to science. The here-reported CCRA diversity for Guam as a small, remote tropical island in the Western Pacific Ocean is greater than those of well-documented CCRA floras for much larger nearshore ecosystems in Brazil and New Zealand, emphasizing the value of tropical islands as hotspots of marine biodiversity.

“Nothing could possibly live there!” They said. Indeed, until recently, few specialized cave-adapted animals were known from volcanic, tropical, or oceanic island caves, and plausible theories had been put forward to explain their absence. But assume nothing in science! One must illuminate, explore, and survey habitats before declaring them barren. Our understanding of cave biology changed dramatically about 50 years ago following the serendipitous discovery of cave-adapted insects and other terrestrial arthropods in lava caves on the young oceanic islands of the Galapagos and Hawai‘i. The discovery and subsequent studies on the evolutionary ecology of cave animals have revealed a remarkable hidden fauna and created new sub-disciplines within biospeleology. Biological surveys of caves in other regions have confirmed the results developed in Hawai‘i. We now predict that, rather than being relicts trapped in caves by changing climate, animals actively colonized caves and adapted to exploit food resources wherever there were suitable subterranean voids. The physical environment in caves can be determined with great precision because the habitat is buffered by rock. Furthermore, the bizarre adaptations displayed by obligate cave animals are similar across many taxonomic groups. These two characteristics make caves nearly ideal natural laboratories for studying evolution and ecology. However, to the untrained researcher, caves can appear hostile and dangerous, and in fact, fieldwork in caves requires a unique marriage of athletic ability and science. In other words, it is exciting! Join me on a virtual tour of exploration, discovery, and research in caves during the past half-century.

ABSTRACT Cholera remains a formidable disease, and reports of multidrug-resistant strains of the causative agent Vibrio cholerae have become common during the last 3 decades. The pervasiveness of resistance determinants has largely been ascribed to mobile genetic elements, including SXT/R391 integrative conjugative elements, IncC plasmids, and genomic islands (GIs). Conjugative transfer of IncC plasmids is activated by the master activator AcaCD whose regulatory network extends to chromosomally integrated GIs. MGIVchHai6 is a multidrug resistance GI integrated at the 3′ end of trmE (mnmE or thdF) in chromosome 1 of non-O1/non-O139 V. cholerae clinical isolates from the 2010 Haitian cholera outbreak. In the presence of an IncC plasmid expressing AcaCD, MGIVchHai6 excises from the chromosome and transfers at high frequency. Herein, the mechanism of mobilization of MGIVchHai6 GIs by IncC plasmids was dissected. Our results show that AcaCD drives expression of GI-borne genes, including xis and mobIM, involved in excision and mobilization. A 49-bp fragment upstream of mobIM was found to serve as the minimal origin of transfer (oriT) of MGIVchHai6. The direction of transfer initiated at oriT was determined using IncC plasmid-driven mobilization of chromosomal markers via MGIVchHai6. In addition, IncC plasmid-encoded factors, including the relaxase TraI, were found to be required for GI transfer. Finally, in silico exploration of Gammaproteobacteria genomes identified 47 novel related and potentially AcaCD-responsive GIs in 13 different genera. Despite sharing conserved features, these GIs integrate at trmE, yicC, or dusA and carry a diverse cargo of genes involved in phage resistance. IMPORTANCE The increasing association of the etiological agent of cholera, Vibrio cholerae serogroup O1 and O139, with multiple antibiotic resistance threatens to deprive health practitioners of this effective tool. Drug resistance in cholera results mainly from acquisition of mobile genetic elements. Genomic islands conferring multidrug resistance and mobilizable by IncC conjugative plasmids were reported to circulate in non-O1/non-O139 V. cholerae clinical strains isolated from the 2010 Haitian cholera outbreak. As these genomic islands can be transmitted to pandemic V. cholerae serogroups, their mechanism of transmission needed to be investigated. Our research revealed plasmid- and genomic island-encoded factors required for the resistance island excision, mobilization, and integration, as well as regulation of these functions. The discovery of related genomic islands carrying diverse phage resistance genes but lacking antibiotic resistance-conferring genes in a wide range of marine dwelling bacteria suggests that these elements are ancient and recently acquired drug resistance genes.

I Putu Gede P. Damayanto, Ida Bagus K. Arinasa, I Gede Tirta, Elizabeth A. Widjaja. 2020. Rekaman Baru Chloothamnus Buse (Poaceae: Bambusoideae) dari Pulau Sumbawa dan Catatan Tentang Marganya di Malesia. Floribunda 6(4): 127–132. — Dari hasil eksplorasi yang dilakukan di P. Sumbawa ditemukan jenis Chloothamnus schmutzii yang semula dilaporkan hanya tumbuh di daerah Manggarai, P. Flores. Dengan ditemukannya jenis ini membuktikan bahwa Sumbawa mempunyai hubungan erat secara geografi dengan daratan Flores Barat. Pertelaan jenis C. schmutzii disiapkan untuk melengkapi pertelaan jenisnya yang waktu dipertelakan tidak lengkap. Foto pelepah buluh spesimen C. schmutzii disajikan. Secara keseluruhan, terdapat 11 jenis Chloothamnus di Malesia (delapan di Papua New Guinea, dua di Kepulauan Sunda Kecil, satu di Jawa). I Putu Gede P. Damayanto, Ida Bagus K. Arinasa, I Gede Tirta, Elizabeth A. Widjaja. 2020. A New Record of Chloothamnus Buse (Poaceae: Bambusoideae) from Sumbawa Island and Notes on the Genus in Malesia. Floribunda 6(4): 127–132. — From the exploration occurred at Sumbawa Island, it was found that Chloothamnus schmutzii which was reported only found in Manggarai District, Flores Island. Through the discovery of this species proves that Sumbawa has close relationship geography with the West Flores mainland. The description of C. schmutzii is presented to fulfil the species description which was not completed when it is described. The photograph of culm-sheath of C. schmutzii specimen is presented. Overall, there are 11 species of Chloothamnus in Malesia (eight in Papua New Guinea, two in the Lesser Sunda Islands, one in Java).

Introduction The aim of this paper is to examine whether recent catastrophic tsunamis have driven a cultural shift in the awareness of Australians to the danger associated with this natural hazard and whether the media have contributed to the emergence of “tsunami” as a new Australian catastrophe. Prior to the devastating 2004 Indian Ocean Tsunami disaster (2004 IOT), tsunamis as a type of hazard capable of generating widespread catastrophe were not well known by the general public and had barely registered within the wider scientific community. As a university based lecturer who specialises in natural disasters, I always started my public talks or student lectures with an attempt at a detailed description of what a tsunami is. With little high quality visual and media imagery to use, this was not easy. The Australian geologist Ted Bryant was right when he named his 2001 book Tsunami: The Underrated Hazard. That changed on 26 December 2004 when the third largest earthquake ever recorded occurred northwest of Sumatra, Indonesia, triggering the most catastrophic tsunami ever experienced. The 2004 IOT claimed at least 220,000 lives—probably more—injured tens of thousands, destroyed widespread coastal infrastructure and left millions homeless. Beyond the catastrophic impacts, this tsunami was conspicuous because, for the first time, such a devastating tsunami was widely captured on video and other forms of moving and still imagery. This occurred for two reasons. Firstly, the tsunami took place during daylight hours in good weather conditions—factors conducive to capturing high quality visual images. Secondly, many people—both local residents and westerners who were on beachside holidays and at the coast at multiple locations impacted by the tsunami—were able to capture images of the tsunami on their cameras, videos, and smart phones. The extensive media coverage—including horrifying television, video, and still imagery that raced around the globe in the hours and days after the tsunami, filling our television screens, homes, and lives regardless of where we lived—had a dramatic effect. This single event drove a quantum shift in the wider cultural awareness of this type of catastrophe and acted as a catalyst for improved individual and societal understanding of the nature and effects of disaster landscapes. Since this event, there have been several notable tsunamis, including the March 2011 Japan catastrophe. Once again, this event occurred during daylight hours and was widely captured by multiple forms of media. These events have resulted in a cascade of media coverage across television, radio, movie, and documentary channels, in the print media, online, and in the popular press and on social media—very little of which was available prior to 2004. Much of this has been documentary and informative in style, but there have also been numerous television dramas and movies. For example, an episode of the popular American television series CSI Miami entitled Crime Wave (Season 3, Episode 7) featured a tsunami, triggered by a volcanic eruption in the Atlantic and impacting Miami, as the backdrop to a standard crime-filled episode ("CSI," IMDb; Wikipedia). In 2010, Warner Bros Studios released the supernatural drama fantasy film Hereafter directed by Clint Eastwood. In the movie, a television journalist survives a near-death experience during the 2004 IOT in what might be the most dramatic, and probably accurate, cinematic portrayal of a tsunami ("Hereafter," IMDb; Wikipedia). Thus, these creative and entertaining forms of media, influenced by the catastrophic nature of tsunamis, are impetuses for creativity that also contribute to a transformation of cultural knowledge of catastrophe. The transformative potential of creative media, together with national and intergovernmental disaster risk reduction activity such as community education, awareness campaigns, community evacuation planning and drills, may be indirectly inferred from rapid and positive community behavioural responses. By this I mean many people in coastal communities who experience strong earthquakes are starting a process of self-evacuation, even if regional tsunami warning centres have not issued an alert or warning. For example, when people in coastal locations in Samoa felt a large earthquake on 29 September 2009, many self-evacuated to higher ground or sought information and instruction from relevant authorities because they expected a tsunami to occur. When interviewed, survivors stated that the memory of television and media coverage of the 2004 IOT acted as a catalyst for their affirmative behavioural response (Dominey-Howes and Thaman 1). Thus, individual and community cultural understandings of the nature and effects of tsunami catastrophes are incredibly important for shaping resilience and reducing vulnerability. However, this cultural shift is not playing out evenly.Are Australia and Its People at Risk from Tsunamis?Prior to the 2004 IOT, there was little discussion about, research in to, or awareness about tsunamis and Australia. Ted Bryant from the University of Wollongong had controversially proposed that Australia had been affected by tsunamis much bigger than the 2004 IOT six to eight times during the last 10,000 years and that it was only a matter of when, not if, such an event repeated itself (Bryant, "Second Edition"). Whilst his claims had received some media attention, his ideas did not achieve widespread scientific, cultural, or community acceptance. Not-with-standing this, Australia has been affected by more than 60 small tsunamis since European colonisation (Dominey-Howes 239). Indeed, the 2004 IOT and 2006 Java tsunami caused significant flooding of parts of the Northern Territory and Western Australia (Prendergast and Brown 69). However, the affected areas were sparsely populated and experienced very little in the way of damage or loss. Thus they did not cross any sort of critical threshold of “catastrophe” and failed to achieve meaningful community consciousness—they were not agents of cultural transformation.Regardless of the risk faced by Australia’s coastline, Australians travel to, and holiday in, places that experience tsunamis. In fact, 26 Australians were killed during the 2004 IOT (DFAT) and five were killed by the September 2009 South Pacific tsunami (Caldwell et al. 26). What Role Do the Media Play in Preparing for and Responding to Catastrophe?Regardless of the type of hazard/disaster/catastrophe, the key functions the media play include (but are not limited to): pre-event community education, awareness raising, and planning and preparations; during-event preparation and action, including status updates, evacuation warnings and notices, and recommendations for affirmative behaviours; and post-event responses and recovery actions to follow, including where to gain aid and support. Further, the media also play a role in providing a forum for debate and post-event analysis and reflection, as a mechanism to hold decision makers to account. From time to time, the media also provide a platform for examining who, if anyone, might be to blame for losses sustained during catastrophes and can act as a powerful conduit for driving socio-cultural, behavioural, and policy change. Many of these functions are elegantly described and a series of best practices outlined by The Caribbean Disaster Emergency Management Agency in a tsunami specific publication freely available online (CDEMA 1). What Has Been the Media Coverage in Australia about Tsunamis and Their Effects on Australians?A manifest contents analysis of media material covering tsunamis over the last decade using the framework of Cox et al. reveals that coverage falls into distinctive and repetitive forms or themes. After tsunamis, I have collected articles (more than 130 to date) published in key Australian national broadsheets (e.g., The Australian and Sydney Morning Herald) and tabloid (e.g., The Telegraph) newspapers and have watched on television and monitored on social media, such as YouTube and Facebook, the types of coverage given to tsunamis either affecting Australia, or Australians domestically and overseas. In all cases, I continued to monitor and collect these stories and accounts for a fixed period of four weeks after each event, commencing on the day of the tsunami. The themes raised in the coverage include: the nature of the event. For example, where, when, why did it occur, how big was it, and what were the effects; what emergency response and recovery actions are being undertaken by the emergency services and how these are being provided; exploration of how the event was made worse or better by poor/good planning and prior knowledge, action or inaction, confusion and misunderstanding; the attribution of blame and responsibility; the good news story—often the discovery and rescue of an “iconic victim/survivor”—usually a child days to weeks later; and follow-up reporting weeks to months later and on anniversaries. This coverage generally focuses on how things are improving and is often juxtaposed with the ongoing suffering of victims. I select the word “victims” purposefully for the media frequently prefer this over the more affirmative “survivor.”The media seldom carry reports of “behind the scenes” disaster preparatory work such as community education programs, the development and installation of warning and monitoring systems, and ongoing training and policy work by response agencies and governments since such stories tend to be less glamorous in terms of the disaster gore factor and less newsworthy (Cox et al. 469; Miles and Morse 365; Ploughman 308).With regard to Australians specifically, the manifest contents analysis reveals that coverage can be described as follows. First, it focuses on those Australians killed and injured. Such coverage provides elements of a biography of the victims, telling their stories, personalising these individuals so we build empathy for their suffering and the suffering of their families. The Australian victims are not unknown strangers—they are named and pictures of their smiling faces are printed or broadcast. Second, the media describe and catalogue the loss and ongoing suffering of the victims (survivors). Third, the media use phrases to describe Australians such as “innocent victims in the wrong place at the wrong time.” This narrative establishes the sense that these “innocents” have been somehow wronged and transgressed and that suffering should not be experienced by them. The fourth theme addresses the difficulties Australians have in accessing Consular support and in acquiring replacement passports in order to return home. It usually goes on to describe how they have difficulty in gaining access to accommodation, clothing, food, and water and any necessary medicines and the challenges associated with booking travel home and the complexities of communicating with family and friends. The last theme focuses on how Australians were often (usually?) not given relevant safety information by “responsible people” or “those in the know” in the place where they were at the time of the tsunami. This establishes a sense that Australians were left out and not considered by the relevant authorities. This narrative pays little attention to the wide scale impact upon and suffering of resident local populations who lack the capacity to escape the landscape of catastrophe.How Does Australian Media Coverage of (Tsunami) Catastrophe Compare with Elsewhere?A review of the available literature suggests media coverage of catastrophes involving domestic citizens is similar globally. For example, Olofsson (557) in an analysis of newspaper articles in Sweden about the 2004 IOT showed that the tsunami was framed as a Swedish disaster heavily focused on Sweden, Swedish victims, and Thailand, and that there was a division between “us” (Swedes) and “them” (others or non-Swedes). Olofsson (557) described two types of “us” and “them.” At the international level Sweden, i.e. “us,” was glorified and contrasted with “inferior” countries such as Thailand, “them.” Olofsson (557) concluded that mediated frames of catastrophe are influenced by stereotypes and nationalistic values.Such nationalistic approaches preface one type of suffering in catastrophe over others and delegitimises the experiences of some survivors. Thus, catastrophes are not evenly experienced. Importantly, Olofsson although not explicitly using the term, explains that the underlying reason for this construction of “them” and “us” is a form of imperialism and colonialism. Sharp refers to “historically rooted power hierarchies between countries and regions of the world” (304)—this is especially so of western news media reporting on catastrophes within and affecting “other” (non-western) countries. Sharp goes much further in relation to western representations and imaginations of the “war on terror” (arguably a global catastrophe) by explicitly noting the near universal western-centric dominance of this representation and the construction of the “west” as good and all “non-west” as not (299). Like it or not, the western media, including elements of the mainstream Australian media, adhere to this imperialistic representation. Studies of tsunami and other catastrophes drawing upon different types of media (still images, video, film, camera, and social media such as Facebook, Twitter, and the like) and from different national settings have explored the multiple functions of media. These functions include: providing information, questioning the authorities, and offering a chance for transformative learning. Further, they alleviate pain and suffering, providing new virtual communities of shared experience and hearing that facilitate resilience and recovery from catastrophe. Lastly, they contribute to a cultural transformation of catastrophe—both positive and negative (Hjorth and Kyoung-hwa "The Mourning"; "Good Grief"; McCargo and Hyon-Suk 236; Brown and Minty 9; Lau et al. 675; Morgan and de Goyet 33; Piotrowski and Armstrong 341; Sood et al. 27).Has Extensive Media Coverage Resulted in an Improved Awareness of the Catastrophic Potential of Tsunami for Australians?In playing devil’s advocate, my simple response is NO! This because I have been interviewing Australians about their perceptions and knowledge of tsunamis as a catastrophe, after events have occurred. These events have triggered alerts and warnings by the Australian Tsunami Warning System (ATWS) for selected coastal regions of Australia. Consequently, I have visited coastal suburbs and interviewed people about tsunamis generally and those events specifically. Formal interviews (surveys) and informal conversations have revolved around what people perceived about the hazard, the likely consequences, what they knew about the warning, where they got their information from, how they behaved and why, and so forth. I have undertaken this work after the 2007 Solomon Islands, 2009 New Zealand, 2009 South Pacific, the February 2010 Chile, and March 2011 Japan tsunamis. I have now spoken to more than 800 people. Detailed research results will be presented elsewhere, but of relevance here, I have discovered that, to begin with, Australians have a reasonable and shared cultural knowledge of the potential catastrophic effects that tsunamis can have. They use terms such as “devastating; death; damage; loss; frightening; economic impact; societal loss; horrific; overwhelming and catastrophic.” Secondly, when I ask Australians about their sources of information about tsunamis, they describe the television (80%); Internet (85%); radio (25%); newspaper (35%); and social media including YouTube (65%). This tells me that the media are critical to underpinning knowledge of catastrophe and are a powerful transformative medium for the acquisition of knowledge. Thirdly, when asked about where people get information about live warning messages and alerts, Australians stated the “television (95%); Internet (70%); family and friends (65%).” Fourthly and significantly, when individuals were asked what they thought being caught in a tsunami would be like, responses included “fun (50%); awesome (75%); like in a movie (40%).” Fifthly, when people were asked about what they would do (i.e., their “stated behaviour”) during a real tsunami arriving at the coast, responses included “go down to the beach to swim/surf the tsunami (40%); go to the sea to watch (85%); video the tsunami and sell to the news media people (40%).”An independent and powerful representation of the disjunct between Australians’ knowledge of the catastrophic potential of tsunamis and their “negative” behavioral response can be found in viewing live television news coverage broadcast from Sydney beaches on the morning of Sunday 28 February 2010. The Chilean tsunami had taken more than 14 hours to travel from Chile to the eastern seaboard of Australia and the ATWS had issued an accurate warning and had correctly forecast the arrival time of the tsunami (approximately 08.30 am). The television and radio media had dutifully broadcast the warning issued by the State Emergency Services. The message was simple: “Stay out of the water, evacuate the beaches and move to higher ground.” As the tsunami arrived, those news broadcasts showed volunteer State Emergency Service personnel and Surf Life Saving Australia lifeguards “begging” with literally hundreds (probably thousands up and down the eastern seaboard of Australia) of members of the public to stop swimming in the incoming tsunami and to evacuate the beaches. On that occasion, Australians were lucky and the tsunami was inconsequential. What do these responses mean? Clearly Australians recognise and can describe the consequences of a tsunami. However, they are not associating the catastrophic nature of tsunami with their own lives or experience. They are avoiding or disallowing the reality; they normalise and dramaticise the event. Thus in Australia, to date, a cultural transformation about the catastrophic nature of tsunami has not occurred for reasons that are not entirely clear but are the subject of ongoing study.The Emergence of Tsunami as a “New Australian Catastrophe”?As a natural disaster expert with nearly two decades experience, in my mind tsunami has emerged as a “new Australian catastrophe.” I believe this has occurred for a number of reasons. Firstly, the 2004 IOT was devastating and did impact northwestern Australia, raising the flag on this hitherto, unknown threat. Australia is now known to be vulnerable to the tsunami catastrophe. The media have played a critical role here. Secondly, in the 2004 IOT and other tsunamis since, Australians have died and their deaths have been widely reported in the Australian media. Thirdly, the emergence of various forms of social media has facilitated an explosion in information and material that can be consumed, digested, reimagined, and normalised by Australians hungry for the gore of catastrophe—it feeds our desire for catastrophic death and destruction. Fourthly, catastrophe has been creatively imagined and retold for a story-hungry viewing public. Whether through regular television shows easily consumed from a comfy chair at home, or whilst eating popcorn at a cinema, tsunami catastrophe is being fed to us in a way that reaffirms its naturalness. Juxtaposed against this idea though is that, despite all the graphic imagery of tsunami catastrophe, especially images of dead children in other countries, Australian media do not and culturally cannot, display images of dead Australian children. Such images are widely considered too gruesome but are well known to drive changes in cultural behaviour because of the iconic significance of the child within our society. As such, a cultural shift has not yet occurred and so the potential of catastrophe remains waiting to strike. Fifthly and significantly, given the fact that large numbers of Australians have not died during recent tsunamis means that again, the catastrophic potential of tsunamis is not yet realised and has not resulted in cultural changes to more affirmative behaviour. Lastly, Australians are probably more aware of “regular or common” catastrophes such as floods and bush fires that are normal to the Australian climate system and which are endlessly experienced individually and culturally and covered by the media in all forms. The Australian summer of 2012–13 has again been dominated by floods and fires. If this idea is accepted, the media construct a uniquely Australian imaginary of catastrophe and cultural discourse of disaster. The familiarity with these common climate catastrophes makes us “culturally blind” to the catastrophe that is tsunami.The consequences of a major tsunami affecting Australia some point in the future are likely to be of a scale not yet comprehensible. References Australian Broadcasting Corporation (ABC). "ABC Net Splash." 20 Mar. 2013 ‹http://splash.abc.net.au/media?id=31077›. Brown, Philip, and Jessica Minty. “Media Coverage and Charitable Giving after the 2004 Tsunami.” Southern Economic Journal 75 (2008): 9–25. Bryant, Edward. Tsunami: The Underrated Hazard. First Edition, Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2001. ———. Tsunami: The Underrated Hazard. Second Edition, Sydney: Springer-Praxis, 2008. Caldwell, Anna, Natalie Gregg, Fiona Hudson, Patrick Lion, Janelle Miles, Bart Sinclair, and John Wright. “Samoa Tsunami Claims Five Aussies as Death Toll Rises.” The Courier Mail 1 Oct. 2009. 20 Mar. 2013 ‹http://www.couriermail.com.au/news/samoa-tsunami-claims-five-aussies-as-death-toll-rises/story-e6freon6-1225781357413›. CDEMA. "The Caribbean Disaster Emergency Management Agency. Tsunami SMART Media Web Site." 18 Dec. 2012. 20 Mar. 2013 ‹http://weready.org/tsunami/index.php?Itemid=40&id=40&option=com_content&view=article›. Cox, Robin, Bonita Long, and Megan Jones. “Sequestering of Suffering – Critical Discourse Analysis of Natural Disaster Media Coverage.” Journal of Health Psychology 13 (2008): 469–80. “CSI: Miami (Season 3, Episode 7).” International Movie Database (IMDb). ‹http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0534784/›. 9 Jan. 2013. "CSI: Miami (Season 3)." Wikipedia. ‹http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/CSI:_Miami_(season_3)#Episodes›. 21 Mar. 2013. DFAT. "Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade Annual Report 2004–2005." 8 Jan. 2013 ‹http://www.dfat.gov.au/dept/annual_reports/04_05/downloads/2_Outcome2.pdf›. Dominey-Howes, Dale. “Geological and Historical Records of Australian Tsunami.” Marine Geology 239 (2007): 99–123. Dominey-Howes, Dale, and Randy Thaman. “UNESCO-IOC International Tsunami Survey Team Samoa Interim Report of Field Survey 14–21 October 2009.” No. 2. Australian Tsunami Research Centre. University of New South Wales, Sydney. "Hereafter." International Movie Database (IMDb). ‹http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1212419/›. 9 Jan. 2013."Hereafter." Wikipedia. ‹http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hereafter (film)›. 21 Mar. 2013. Hjorth, Larissa, and Yonnie Kyoung-hwa. “The Mourning After: A Case Study of Social Media in the 3.11 Earthquake Disaster in Japan.” Television and News Media 12 (2011): 552–59. ———, and Yonnie Kyoung-hwa. “Good Grief: The Role of Mobile Social Media in the 3.11 Earthquake Disaster in Japan.” Digital Creativity 22 (2011): 187–99. Lau, Joseph, Mason Lau, and Jean Kim. “Impacts of Media Coverage on the Community Stress Level in Hong Kong after the Tsunami on 26 December 2004.” Journal of Epidemiology and Community Health 60 (2006): 675–82. McCargo, Duncan, and Lee Hyon-Suk. “Japan’s Political Tsunami: What’s Media Got to Do with It?” International Journal of Press-Politics 15 (2010): 236–45. Miles, Brian, and Stephanie Morse. “The Role of News Media in Natural Disaster Risk and Recovery.” Ecological Economics 63 (2007): 365–73. Morgan, Olive, and Charles de Goyet. “Dispelling Disaster Myths about Dead Bodies and Disease: The Role of Scientific Evidence and the Media.” Revista Panamericana de Salud Publica-Pan American Journal of Public Health 18 (2005): 33–6. Olofsson, Anna. “The Indian Ocean Tsunami in Swedish Newspapers: Nationalism after Catastrophe.” Disaster Prevention and Management 20 (2011): 557–69. Piotrowski, Chris, and Terry Armstrong. “Mass Media Preferences in Disaster: A Study of Hurricane Danny.” Social Behavior and Personality 26 (1998): 341–45. Ploughman, Penelope. “The American Print News Media Construction of Five Natural Disasters.” Disasters 19 (1995): 308–26. Prendergast, Amy, and Nick Brown. “Far Field Impact and Coastal Sedimentation Associated with the 2006 Java Tsunami in West Australia: Post-Tsunami Survey at Steep Point, West Australia.” Natural Hazards 60 (2012): 69–79. Sharp, Joanne. “A Subaltern Critical Geopolitics of The War on Terror: Postcolonial Security in Tanzania.” Geoforum 42 (2011): 297–305. Sood, Rahul, Stockdale, Geoffrey, and Everett Rogers. “How the News Media Operate in Natural Disasters.” Journal of Communication 37 (1987): 27–41.

IntroductionTasmania hangs from the map of Australia like a drop in freefall from the substance of the mainland. Often the whole state is mislaid from Australian maps and logos (Reddit). Tasmania has, at least since federation, been considered peripheral—a region seen as isolated, a ‘problem’ economically, politically, and culturally. However, Tasmania not only cleaves to the ‘north island’ of Australia but is also subject to the gravitational pull of an even greater land mass—Antarctica. In this article, we upturn the political conventions of map-making that place both Antarctica and Tasmania in obscure positions at the base of the globe. We show how a changing global climate re-frames Antarctica and the Southern Ocean as key drivers of worldwide environmental shifts. The liquid and solid water between Tasmania and Antarctica is revealed not as a homogenous barrier, but as a dynamic and relational medium linking the Tasmanian archipelago with Antarctica. When Antarctica becomes the focus, the script is flipped: Tasmania is no longer on the edge, but core to a network of gateways into the southern land. The state’s capital of Hobart can from this perspective be understood as an “Antarctic city”, central to the geopolitics, economy, and culture of the frozen continent (Salazar et al.). Viewed from the south, we argue, Tasmania is not a problem, but an opportunity for a form of ecological, cultural, economic, and political sustainability that opens up the southern continent to science, discovery, and imagination.A Centre at the End of the Earth? Tasmania as ParadoxThe islands of Tasmania owe their existence to climate change: a period of warming at the end of the last ice age melted the vast sheets of ice covering the polar regions, causing sea levels to rise by more than one hundred metres (Tasmanian Climate Change Office 8). Eleven thousand years ago, Aboriginal people would have witnessed the rise of what is now called Bass Strait, turning what had been a peninsula into an archipelago, with the large island of Tasmania at its heart. The heterogeneous practices and narratives of Tasmanian regional identity have been shaped by the geography of these islands, and their connection to the Southern Ocean and Antarctica. Regions, understood as “centres of collective consciousness and sociospatial identities” (Paasi 241) are constantly reproduced and reimagined through place-based social practices and communications over time. As we will show, diverse and contradictory narratives of Tasmanian regionality often co-exist, interacting in complex and sometimes complementary ways. Ecocritical literary scholar C.A. Cranston considers duality to be embedded in the textual construction of Tasmania, writing “it was hell, it was heaven, it was penal, it was paradise” (29). Tasmania is multiply polarised: it is both isolated and connected; close and far away; rich in resources and poor in capital; the socially conservative birthplace of radical green politics (Hay 60). The weather, as if sensing the fine balance of these paradoxes, blows hot and cold at a moment’s notice.Tasmania has wielded extraordinary political influence at times in its history—notably during the settlement of Melbourne in 1835 (Boyce), and during protests against damming the Franklin River in the early 1980s (Mercer). However, twentieth-century historical and political narratives of Tasmania portray the Bass Strait as a barrier, isolating Tasmanians from the mainland (Harwood 61). Sir Bede Callaghan, who headed one of a long line of federal government inquiries into “the Tasmanian problem” (Harwood 106), was clear that Tasmania was a victim of its own geography:the major disability facing the people of Tasmania (although some residents may consider it an advantage) is that Tasmania is an island. Separation from the mainland adversely affects the economy of the State and the general welfare of the people in many ways. (Callaghan 3)This perspective may stem from the fact that Tasmania has maintained the lowest Gross Domestic Product per capita of all states since federation (Bureau of Infrastructure Transport and Regional Economics 9). Socially, economically, and culturally, Tasmania consistently ranks among the worst regions of Australia. Statistical comparisons with other parts of Australia reveal the population’s high unemployment, low wages, poor educational outcomes, and bad health (West 31). The state’s remoteness and isolation from the mainland states and its reliance on federal income have contributed to the whole of Tasmania, including Hobart, being classified as ‘regional’ by the Australian government, in an attempt to promote immigration and economic growth (Department of Infrastructure and Regional Development 1). Tasmania is indeed both regional and remote. However, in this article we argue that, while regionality may be cast as a disadvantage, the island’s remote location is also an asset, particularly when viewed from a far southern perspective (Image 1).Image 1: Antarctica (Orthographic Projection). Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons, Modified Shading of Tasmania and Addition of Captions by H. Nielsen.Connecting Oceans/Collapsing DistanceTasmania and Antarctica have been closely linked in the past—the future archipelago formed a land bridge between Antarctica and northern land masses until the opening of the Tasman Seaway some 32 million years ago (Barker et al.). The far south was tangible to the Indigenous people of the island in the weather blowing in from the Southern Ocean, while the southern lights, or “nuyina”, formed a visible connection (Australia’s new icebreaker vessel is named RSV Nuyina in recognition of these links). In the contemporary Australian imagination, Tasmania tends to be defined by its marine boundaries, the sea around the islands represented as flat, empty space against which to highlight the topography of its landscape and the isolation of its position (Davies et al.). A more relational geographic perspective illuminates the “power of cross-currents and connections” (Stratford et al. 273) across these seascapes. The sea country of Tasmania is multiple and heterogeneous: the rough, shallow waters of the island-scattered Bass Strait flow into the Tasman Sea, where the continental shelf descends toward an abyssal plain studded with volcanic seamounts. To the south, the Southern Ocean provides nutrient-rich upwellings that attract fish and cetacean populations. Tasmania’s coast is a dynamic, liminal space, moving and changing in response to the global currents that are driven by the shifting, calving and melting ice shelves and sheets in Antarctica.Oceans have long been a medium of connection between Tasmania and Antarctica. In the early colonial period, when the seas were the major thoroughfares of the world and inland travel was treacherous and slow, Tasmania’s connection with the Southern Ocean made it a valuable hub for exploration and exploitation of the south. Between 1642 and 1900, early European explorers were followed by British penal colonists, convicts, sealers, and whalers (Kriwoken and Williamson 93). Tasmania was well known to polar explorers, with expeditions led by Jules Dumont d’Urville, James Clark Ross, Roald Amundsen, and Douglas Mawson all transiting through the port of Hobart. Now that the city is no longer a whaling hub, growing populations of cetaceans continue to migrate past the islands on their annual journeys from the tropics, across the Sub-Antarctic Front and Antarctic circumpolar current, and into the south polar region, while southern species such as leopard seals are occasionally seen around Tasmania (Tasmania Parks and Wildlife). Although the water surrounding Tasmania and Antarctica is at times homogenised as a ‘barrier’, rendering these places isolated, the bodies of water that surround both are in fact permeable, and regularly crossed by both humans and marine species. The waters are diverse in their physical characteristics, underlying topography, sea life, and relationships, and serve to connect many different ocean regions, ecosystems, and weather patterns.Views from the Far SouthWhen considered in terms of its relative proximity to Antarctic, rather than its distance from Australia’s political and economic centres, Tasmania’s identity undergoes a significant shift. A sign at Cockle Creek, in the state’s far south, reminds visitors that they are closer to Antarctica than to Cairns, invoking a discourse of connectedness that collapses the standard ten-day ship voyage to Australia’s closest Antarctic station into a unit comparable with the routinely scheduled 5.5 hour flight to North Queensland. Hobart is the logistical hub for the Australian Antarctic Division and the French Institut Polaire Francais (IPEV), and has hosted Antarctic vessels belonging to the USA, South Korea, and Japan in recent years. From a far southern perspective, Hobart is not a regional Australian capital but a global polar hub. This alters the city’s geographic imaginary not only in a latitudinal sense—from “top down” to “bottom up”—but also a longitudinal one. Via its southward connection to Antarctica, Hobart is also connected east and west to four other recognized gateways: Cape Town in South Africa, Christchurch in New Zealand; Punta Arenas in Chile; and Ushuaia in Argentina (Image 2). The latter cities are considered small by international standards, but play an outsized role in relation to Antarctica.Image 2: H. Nielsen with a Sign Announcing Distances between Antarctic ‘Gateway’ Cities and Antarctica, Ushuaia, Argentina, 2018. Image Credit: Nicki D'Souza.These five cities form what might be called—to adapt geographer Klaus Dodds’ term—a ‘Southern Rim’ around the South Polar region (Dodds Geopolitics). They exist in ambiguous relationship to each other. Although the five cities signed a Statement of Intent in 2009 committing them to collaboration, they continue to compete vigorously for northern hemisphere traffic and the brand identity of the most prominent global gateway. A state government brochure spruiks Hobart, for example, as the “perfect Antarctic Gateway” emphasising its uniqueness and “natural advantages” in this regard (Tasmanian Government, 2016). In practice, the cities are automatically differentiated by their geographic position with respect to Antarctica. Although the ‘ice continent’ is often conceived as one entity, it too has regions, in both scientific and geographical senses (Terauds and Lee; Antonello). Hobart provides access to parts of East Antarctica, where the Australian, French, Japanese, and Chinese programs (among others) have bases; Cape Town is a useful access point for Europeans going to Dronning Maud Land; Christchurch is closest to the Ross Sea region, site of the largest US base; and Punta Arenas and Ushuaia neighbour the Antarctic Peninsula, home to numerous bases as well as a thriving tourist industry.The Antarctic sector is important to the Tasmanian economy, contributing $186 million (AUD) in 2017/18 (Wells; Gutwein; Tasmanian Polar Network). Unsurprisingly, Tasmania’s gateway brand has been actively promoted, with the 2016 Australian Antarctic Strategy and 20 Year Action Plan foregrounding the need to “Build Tasmania’s status as the premier East Antarctic Gateway for science and operations” and the state government releasing a “Tasmanian Antarctic Gateway Strategy” in 2017. The Chinese Antarctic program has been a particular focus: a Memorandum of Understanding focussed on Australia and China’s Antarctic relations includes a “commitment to utilise Australia, including Tasmania, as an Antarctic ‘gateway’.” (Australian Antarctic Division). These efforts towards a closer relationship with China have more recently come under attack as part of a questioning of China’s interests in the region (without, it should be noted, a concomitant questioning of Australia’s own considerable interests) (Baker 9). In these exchanges, a global power and a state of Australia generally classed as regional and peripheral are brought into direct contact via the even more remote Antarctic region. This connection was particularly visible when Chinese President Xi Jinping travelled to Hobart in 2014, in a visit described as both “strategic” and “incongruous” (Burden). There can be differences in how this relationship is narrated to domestic and international audiences, with issues of sovereignty and international cooperation variously foregrounded, laying the ground for what Dodds terms “awkward Antarctic nationalism” (1).Territory and ConnectionsThe awkwardness comes to a head in Tasmania, where domestic and international views of connections with the far south collide. Australia claims sovereignty over almost 6 million km2 of the Antarctic continent—a claim that in area is “roughly the size of mainland Australia minus Queensland” (Bergin). This geopolitical context elevates the importance of a regional part of Australia: the claims to Antarctic territory (which are recognised only by four other claimant nations) are performed not only in Antarctic localities, where they are made visible “with paraphernalia such as maps, flags, and plaques” (Salazar 55), but also in Tasmania, particularly in Hobart and surrounds. A replica of Mawson’s Huts in central Hobart makes Australia’s historic territorial interests in Antarctica visible an urban setting, foregrounding the figure of Douglas Mawson, the well-known Australian scientist and explorer who led the expeditions that proclaimed Australia’s sovereignty in the region of the continent roughly to its south (Leane et al.). Tasmania is caught in a balancing act, as it fosters international Antarctic connections (such hosting vessels from other national programs), while also playing a key role in administering what is domestically referred to as the Australian Antarctic Territory. The rhetoric of protection can offer common ground: island studies scholar Godfrey Baldacchino notes that as island narratives have moved “away from the perspective of the ‘explorer-discoverer-colonist’” they have been replaced by “the perspective of the ‘custodian-steward-environmentalist’” (49), but reminds readers that a colonising disposition still lurks beneath the surface. It must be remembered that terms such as “stewardship” and “leadership” can undertake sovereignty labour (Dodds “Awkward”), and that Tasmania’s Antarctic connections can be mobilised for a range of purposes. When Environment Minister Greg Hunt proclaimed at a press conference that: “Hobart is the gateway to the Antarctic for the future” (26 Apr. 2016), the remark had meaning within discourses of both sovereignty and economics. Tasmania’s capital was leveraged as a way to position Australia as a leader in the Antarctic arena.From ‘Gateway’ to ‘Antarctic City’While discussion of Antarctic ‘Gateway’ Cities often focuses on the economic and logistical benefit of their Antarctic connections, Hobart’s “gateway” identity, like those of its counterparts, stretches well beyond this, encompassing geological, climatic, historical, political, cultural and scientific links. Even the southerly wind, according to cartoonist Jon Kudelka, “has penguins in it” (Image 3). Hobart residents feel a high level of connection to Antarctica. In 2018, a survey of 300 randomly selected residents of Greater Hobart was conducted under the umbrella of the “Antarctic Cities” Australian Research Council Linkage Project led by Assoc. Prof. Juan Francisco Salazar (and involving all three present authors). Fourteen percent of respondents reported having been involved in an economic activity related to Antarctica, and 36% had attended a cultural event about Antarctica. Connections between the southern continent and Hobart were recognised as important: 71.9% agreed that “people in my city can influence the cultural meanings that shape our relationship to Antarctica”, while 90% agreed or strongly agreed that Hobart should play a significant role as a custodian of Antarctica’s future, and 88.4% agreed or strongly agreed that: “How we treat Antarctica is a test of our approach to ecological sustainability.” Image 3: “The Southerly” Demonstrates How Weather Connects Hobart and Antarctica. Image Credit: Jon Kudelka, Reproduced with Permission.Hobart, like the other gateways, activates these connections in its conscious place-branding. The city is particularly strong as a centre of Antarctic research: signs at the cruise-ship terminal on the waterfront claim that “There are more Antarctic scientists based in Hobart […] than at any other one place on earth, making Hobart a globally significant contributor to our understanding of Antarctica and the Southern Ocean.” Researchers are based at the Institute for Marine and Antarctic Studies (IMAS), the Commonwealth Scientific and Industrial Research Organisation (CSIRO), and the Australian Antarctic Division (AAD), with several working between institutions. Many Antarctic researchers located elsewhere in the world also have a connection with the place through affiliations and collaborations, leading journalist Jo Chandler to assert that “the breadth and depth of Hobart’s knowledge of ice, water, and the life forms they nurture […] is arguably unrivalled anywhere in the world” (86).Hobart also plays a significant role in Antarctica’s governance, as the site of the secretariats for the Commission for the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources (CCAMLR) and the Agreement on the Conservation of Albatrosses and Petrels (ACAP), and as host of the Antarctic Consultative Treaty Meetings on more than one occasion (1986, 2012). The cultural domain is active, with Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery (TMAG) featuring a permanent exhibit, “Islands to Ice”, emphasising the ocean as connecting the two places; the Mawson’s Huts Replica Museum aiming (among other things) to “highlight Hobart as the gateway to the Antarctic continent for the Asia Pacific region”; and a biennial Australian Antarctic Festival drawing over twenty thousand visitors, about a sixth of them from interstate or overseas (Hingley). Antarctic links are evident in the city’s natural and built environment: the dolerite columns of Mt Wellington, the statue of the Tasmanian Antarctic explorer Louis Bernacchi on the waterfront, and the wharfs that regularly accommodate icebreakers such as the Aurora Australis and the Astrolabe. Antarctica is figured as a southern neighbour; as historian Tom Griffiths puts it, Tasmanians “grow up with Antarctica breathing down their necks” (5). As an Antarctic City, Hobart mediates access to Antarctica both physically and in the cultural imaginary.Perhaps in recognition of the diverse ways in which a region or a city might be connected to Antarctica, researchers have recently been suggesting critical approaches to the ‘gateway’ label. C. Michael Hall points to a fuzziness in the way the term is applied, noting that it has drifted from its initial definition (drawn from economic geography) as denoting an access and supply point to a hinterland that produces a certain level of economic benefits. While Hall looks to keep the term robustly defined to avoid empty “local boosterism” (272–73), Gabriela Roldan aims to move the concept “beyond its function as an entry and exit door”, arguing that, among other things, the local community should be actively engaged in the Antarctic region (57). Leane, examining the representation of Hobart as a gateway in historical travel texts, concurs that “ingress and egress” are insufficient descriptors of Tasmania’s relationship with Antarctica, suggesting that at least discursively the island is positioned as “part of an Antarctic rim, itself sharing qualities of the polar region” (45). The ARC Linkage Project described above, supported by the Hobart City Council, the State Government and the University of Tasmania, as well as other national and international partners, aims to foster the idea of the Hobart and its counterparts as ‘Antarctic cities’ whose citizens act as custodians for the South Polar region, with a genuine concern for and investment in its future.Near and Far: Local Perspectives A changing climate may once again herald a shift in the identity of the Tasmanian islands. Recognition of the central role of Antarctica in regulating the global climate has generated scientific and political re-evaluation of the region. Antarctica is not only the planet’s largest heat sink but is the engine of global water currents and wind patterns that drive weather patterns and biodiversity across the world (Convey et al. 543). For example, Tas van Ommen’s research into Antarctic glaciology shows the tangible connection between increased snowfall in coastal East Antarctica and patterns of drought southwest Western Australia (van Ommen and Morgan). Hobart has become a global centre of marine and Antarctic science, bringing investment and development to the city. As the global climate heats up, Tasmania—thanks to its low latitude and southerly weather patterns—is one of the few regions in Australia likely to remain temperate. This is already leading to migration from the mainland that is impacting house prices and rental availability (Johnston; Landers 1). The region’s future is therefore closely entangled with its proximity to the far south. Salazar writes that “we cannot continue to think of Antarctica as the end of the Earth” (67). Shifting Antarctica into focus also brings Tasmania in from the margins. As an Antarctic city, Hobart assumes a privileged positioned on the global stage. This allows the city to present itself as central to international research efforts—in contrast to domestic views of the place as a small regional capital. The city inhabits dual identities; it is both on the periphery of Australian concerns and at the centre of Antarctic activity. Tasmania, then, is not in freefall, but rather at the forefront of a push to recognise Antarctica as entangled with its neighbours to the north.AcknowledgementsThis work was supported by the Australian Research Council under LP160100210.ReferencesAntonello, Alessandro. “Finding Place in Antarctica.” Antarctica and the Humanities. Eds. Peder Roberts, Lize-Marie van der Watt, and Adrian Howkins. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2016. 181–204.Australian Government. 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