Artículos de revistas sobre el tema "Capteur de particules - Capteur PM"

Investigating workplace exposure to mycotoxins is of the utmost importance in supporting the implementation of preventive measures for workers. The aim of this study was to provide tools for measuring mycotoxins in urine and airborne samples. A multi-class mycotoxin method was developed in urine for the determination of aflatoxin B1, aflatoxin M1, ochratoxin A, ochratoxin α, deoxynivalenol, zearalenone, α-zearalenol, β-zearalenol, fumonisin B1, HT2-toxin and T2-toxin. Analysis was based on liquid chromatography–high resolution mass spectrometry. Sample pre-treatments included enzymatic digestion and an online or offline sample clean-up step. The method was validated according to the European Medicines Agency guidance procedures. In order to estimate external exposure, air samples collected with a CIP 10 (Capteur Individuel de Particules 10) personal dust sampler were analyzed for the quantification of up to ten mycotoxins, including aflatoxins, ochratoxin A, deoxynivalenol, zearalenone, fumonisin B1 and HT-2 toxin and T-2 toxin. The method was validated according to standards for workplace exposure to chemical and biological agents EN 482. Both methods, biomonitoring and airborne mycotoxin measurement, showed good analytical performances. They were successfully applied in a small pilot study to assess mycotoxin contamination in workers during cleaning of a grain elevator. We demonstrated that this approach was suitable for investigating occupational exposure to mycotoxins.

The potential of urban greening plants to capture particulate matter (PM) from the ambient atmosphere is contingent on interactions between the level of pollution and leaf surfaces. For this study, thirteen plant species were investigated to quantify their capacity of PM accumulation under three atmospheric environments, that is, industrial, traffic and university campus (control), in Kunming City (Southwest China). The sampled sites represented different pollution levels (that is, high pollution, slight pollution and clean air, respectively). The plant species differed in their accumulation of PM by six- to eight-fold across the three sites. Magnolia grandiflora was the most efficient evergreen tree species, whereas Platanus acerifolia had the highest capture of PM among deciduous trees. The accumulation capacity of the same species varied with the degree of pollution. For example, Osmanthus fragrans, Loropetalum chinense and Cinnamomum japonicum were highly efficient for the capture of PM in the traffic and university campus areas; however, they exhibited medium accumulation in the industrial area. Prunus majestica demonstrated an intermediate accumulation capacity in the industrial area, but was low in the traffic and university campus areas. The capturing capacity of the same genus was also different among the different levels of pollution. For example, C. japonicum had a 2.9–4.2-times higher PM accumulation than did C. camphora across the three sites. There were significant differences in leaf surface area, stomata density/length, guard cell area, and trichome density/length among these species. The species-specific efficacy of PM capture was primarily contributed to by leaf size and surface roughness, stomata density, and trichome length. In particular, hairy-leaf leaves with medium stomatal density exhibited higher PM capture. Therefore, leaf micromorphology, leaf size and longevity appeared to be significant predictive factors for the accumulation of PM, which may aid in the selection of greening plant species for the remediation of pollutants in urban areas.

Trees’ ability to capture atmospheric Particular Matter (PM) is related to morphological traits (shape, size, and micro-morphology) of the leaves. The objectives of this study were (1) to find out whether cluster pattern of the leaves is also a parameter that affects trees’ PM capturing performance and (2) to apply the cluster patterns of the leaves on architectural surfaces to confirm its impact on PM capturing performance. Two series of chamber experiments were designed to observe the impact of cluster patterns on PM capturing performance whilst other influential variables were controlled. First, we exposed synthetic leaf structures of different cluster patterns (a large and sparsely arranged cluster pattern and a small and densely arranged cluster pattern) to artificially generated PM in a chamber for 60 min and recorded the changing levels of PM2.5 and PM10 every minute. The results confirmed that the small and densely arranged cluster pattern has more significant effect on reducing PM2.5 and PM10 than the large and sparsely arranged cluster pattern. Secondly, we created three different types of architectural surfaces mimicking the cluster patterns of the leaves: a base surface, a folded surface, and a folded and porous surface. The surfaces were also exposed to artificially generated PM in the chamber and the levels of PM2.5 and PM10 were recorded. The results confirmed that the folded and porous surface has a more significant effect on reducing PM2.5 and PM10 than other surfaces. The study has confirmed that the PM capturing performance of architectural surfaces can be improved by mimicking cluster pattern of the leaves.

We evaluated surface-based analysis for assessing the possible relationship between the microstructural properties and particulate matter (i.e., two size fractions of PM2.5 and PM10) adsorption efficiencies of their leaf surfaces on ten woody species. We focused on the effect of PM adsorption capacity between micro-morphological features on leaf surfaces using a scanning electron microscope and a non-contact surface profiler as an example. The species with higher adsorption of PM10 on leaf surfaces were Korean boxwood (Buxus koreana Nakai ex Chung & al.) and evergreen spindle (Euonymus japonicus Thunb.), followed by yulan magnolia (Magnolia denudata Desr.), Japanese yew (Taxus cuspidata Siebold & Zucc.), Japanese horse chestnut (Aesculus turbinata Blume), retusa fringetree (Chionanthus retusus Lindl. & Paxton), maidenhair tree (Ginkgo biloba L.), and royal azalea (Rhododendron schlippenbachii Maxim.). There was a higher capacity for the adsorption of PM2.5 on the leaf surfaces of B. koreana and T. cuspidata, followed by A. turbinata, C. retusus, E. japonicus, G. biloba, and M. denudata. In wax layer tests, T. cuspidata, A. turbinata, R. schlippenbachii, and C. retusus showed a statistically higher PM2.5 capturing capacity than the other species. Different types of trichomes were distributed on the adaxial and abaxial leaves of A. turbinata, C. retusus, M. denudata, pagoda tree (Styphnolobium japonicum (L.) Schott), B. koreana, and R. schlippenbachii; however, these trichomes were absent on both sides of the leaves of G. biloba, tuliptree (Liriodendron tulipifera L.), E. japonicus, and T. cuspidata. Importantly, leaf surfaces of G. biloba and S. japonicum with dense or thick epicuticular leaf waxes and deeper roughness revealed lower PM adsorption. Based on the overall performance of airborne PM capture efficiency, evergreen species such as B. koreana, T. cuspidata, and E. japonicus showed the best results, whereas S. japonicum and L. tulipifera had the lowest capture. In particular, evergreen shrub species showed higher PM2.5 depositions inside the inner wall of stomata or the periphery of guard cells. Therefore, in leaf microstructural factors, stomatal size may be related to notably high PM2.5 holding capacities on leaf surfaces, but stomatal density, trichome density, and roughness had a limited effect on PM adsorption. Finally, our findings indicate that surface-based microstructures are necessarily not a correlation for corresponding estimates with leaf PM adsorption.

Abstract. The 20th century seasonal Northern Hemisphere (NH) land snow cover as simulated by available CMIP5 model output is compared to observations. On average, the models reproduce the observed snow cover extent very well, but the significant trend towards a reduced spring snow cover extent over the 1979–2005 period is underestimated (observed: (−3.4 ± 1.1)% per decade; simulated: (−1.0 ± 0.3)% per decade). We show that this is linked to the simulated Northern Hemisphere extratropical spring land warming trend over the same period, which is also underestimated, although the models, on average, correctly capture the observed global warming trend. There is a good linear correlation between the extent of hemispheric seasonal spring snow cover and boreal large-scale spring surface air temperature in the models, supported by available observations. This relationship also persists in the future and is independent of the particular anthropogenic climate forcing scenario. Similarly, the simulated linear relationship between the hemispheric seasonal spring snow cover extent and global mean annual mean surface air temperature is stable in time. However, the slope of this relationship is underestimated at present (observed: (−11.8 ± 2.7)% °C−1; simulated: (−5.1 ± 3.0)% °C−1) because the trend towards lower snow cover extent is underestimated, while the recent global warming trend is correctly represented.

The auto exhaust and dust derived from increased traffic volumes have led to an increasing level of atmospheric particulates in urban areas, which have become a primary pollutant of ambient air in urban zones. Roadside plants can effectively retain atmospheric particulates and clean the urban air via foliar capture of road dust. Five common roadside plants in Hangzhou were selected to evaluate their capacity for the retention of particulate matter (PM) and the accumulation of metals. The results showed that the PM retention capacity of the different plants varied greatly, as was the case with Loropetalum chinense var. rubrum Yieh, Osmanthus fragrans (Thunb.) Loureiro, Pittosporum tobira (Thunb.) Ait, Photinia × fraseri Dress and Cinnamomum camphora (L.) Presl. In addition, the amounts of particles retained by the plants varied among seasons, with the highest retention in winter (12.19 g·m−2) and the lowest retention in spring (6.89 g·m−2). The solids on the leaf surface were mainly irregular particles, such as mineral fragments, soot aggregates, and fly ash particles. Meanwhile, these plant species can effectively accumulate heavy metals that attached to the particles. The leaves of the five tree species had the highest amounts of copper (Cu) and the lowest amounts of cadmium (Cd). Among species, L. chinense and P. tobira had the strongest comprehensive capacity to adsorb particulate matter and heavy metals. The results shed light on the rational selection of road plants, both as ornaments and to purify air via dust suppression in subtropical zones.

Particular matter (PM) constitutes one of the major air pollutants. Human exposure to fine PM (PM with a median diameter less than or equal to 2.5 μm, PM2.5) has many negative and diverse outcomes for human health, such as respiratory mortality, lung cancer, etc. Accurate air-quality forecasting on a regional scale enables local agencies to design and apply appropriate policies (e.g., meet specific emissions limitations) to tackle the problem of air pollution. Under this framework, low-cost sensors have recently emerged as a valuable tool, facilitating the spatiotemporal monitoring of air pollution on a local scale. In this study, we present a deep learning approach (long short-term memory, LSTM) to forecast the intra-day air pollution exceedances across urban and suburban areas. The PM2.5 data used in this study were collected from 12 well-calibrated low-cost sensors (Purple Air) located in the greater area of the Municipality of Thermi in Thessaloniki, Greece. The LSTM-based methodology implements PM2.5 data as well as auxiliary data, meteorological variables from the Copernicus Atmosphere Monitoring Service (CAMS), which is operated by ECMWF, and time variables related to local emissions to enhance the air pollution forecasting performance. The accuracy of the model forecasts reported adequate results, revealing a correlation coefficient between the measured PM2.5 and the LSTM forecast data ranging between 0.67 and 0.94 for all time horizons, with a decreasing trend as the time horizon increases. Regarding air pollution exceedances, the LSTM forecasting system can correctly capture more than 70.0% of the air pollution exceedance events in the study region. The latter findings highlight the model’s capabilities to correctly detect possible WHO threshold exceedances and provide valuable information regarding local air quality.

This study investigates the effect of urban forests in reducing particulate matter (PM) concentrations and its subsequent impact on the number of asthma care visits. Understanding the mechanisms behind the relationship between the greenness of blocking forests and the reduction in PM is crucial for assessing the associated human health benefits. This study analyzed the influencing factors for reducing long-term PM10 concentrations, utilizing the vegetation index and meteorological variables. Results showed that the reduction in PM10 began in 2011, five years after the establishment of the blocking forest. The annual mean PM10 concentrations decreased significantly, driven primarily by summer wind speed and summer Enhanced Vegetation Index (EVI), explaining approximately 62% of the variation. A decrease in the number of asthma care visits was observed, similar to the trend of PM10 reduction in the residential area and the increase in the greenness of the blocking forest. The influx of PM into the city, primarily driven by prevailing northwesterly winds, may have been mitigated by the growing blocking forest, contributing to a reduction in asthma-related medical visits among urban residents. In particular, since the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020, the increase in the PM2.5/PM10 ratio in residential areas has become more closely linked to the increase in asthma-related medical visits. It suggests another PM2.5 emission source in the residential area. The number of asthma care visits among children (under 11) and the elderly (over 65) exhibited a strong positive correlation with PM10 levels and a negative correlation with the Normalized Difference Vegetation Index (NDVI). This suggests a link between air quality improvement from the greenness of blocking forests with their capacity to capture PM and respiratory health outcomes, especially for the vulnerable groups to asthma. These findings highlight the need to manage pollutant sources such as transportation and the heating system in residential areas beyond industrial emissions as the point pollution source. The management policies have to focus on protecting vulnerable populations, such as children and the elderly, by implementing small-sized urban forests to adsorb the PM2.5 within the city and establishing blocking forests to prevent PM10 near the industrial complex.

Biomass burning (BB), in particular agricultural waste burning (Agri-BB), occurs at random locations, scales, and times. These factors make it challenging to detect Agri-BB accurately through satellite observations. Thus, the BB emission inventories using satellite observation data have uncertainties for their emission estimation approach and cause poor model performance for air pollutants including PM2.5. We utilized the two BB emission inventories, GFEDv4.1s and FINNv2.5 with the CMAQ model to simulate the PM2.5 heavy pollution episode in Hokkaido 2019. To estimate Agri-BB contributions, we conducted three simulation cases for each BB emission inventory: with and without Agri-BB emission, and the boosted Agri-BB emission cases. The baseline simulation failed to capture the temporal and spatial variation patterns of PM2.5. Meanwhile, the boosted Agri-BB case could show favorable performance for PM2.5 concentrations. These results indicated that the two BB emission inventories underestimated Agri-BB emissions. In the two boosted Agri-BB cases, the PM2.5 contributions from Agri-BB accounted for more than 50% during the episode. Moreover, high PM2.5 emissions were found in Northeast China and its surrounding regions similar to the two boosted Agri-BB cases. Consequently, the results revealed that Agri-BB emissions during the episode were significantly derived from the agricultural areas in Northeast China.

Sign Language (SL) is a continuous and complex stream of multiple body movement features. That raises the challenging issue of providing efficient computational models for the description and analysis of these movements. In the present paper, we used Principal Component Analysis (PCA) to decompose SL motion into elementary movements called principal movements (PMs). PCA was applied to the upper-body motion capture data of six different signers freely producing discourses in French Sign Language. Common PMs were extracted from the whole dataset containing all signers, while individual PMs were extracted separately from the data of individual signers. This study provides three main findings: (1) although the data were not synchronized in time across signers and discourses, the first eight common PMs contained 94.6% of the variance of the movements; (2) the number of PMs that represented 94.6% of the variance was nearly the same for individual as for common PMs; (3) the PM subspaces were highly similar across signers. These results suggest that upper-body motion in unconstrained continuous SL discourses can be described through the dynamic combination of a reduced number of elementary movements. This opens up promising perspectives toward providing efficient automatic SL processing tools based on heavy mocap datasets, in particular for automatic recognition and generation.

The transpacific transport of mineral dust often occurs in spring, and a large amount of aeolian dust is deposited in the Asian continent and north Pacific. Moreover, a heterogeneous reaction occurs when dust particles are mixed with man-made pollution gases and particles. In the present study, atmospheric PM10 and PM2.5 concentrations were investigated, and a scanning electron microscope and an X-ray energy spectrometer were used to analyze the effects of dust resistance and capture by forests. It showed that (1) the PM2.5 and PM10 concentrations during a dust storm, on sunny days, and during light pollution periods, were higher in the non-forest covered area (NFC area) than in the forest covered area (FC area), except during heavy pollution events; which suggests that the forests have a strong effect on dust resistance; (2) the PM reduction efficiency of forests was highest on sunny days, followed by light pollution periods, heavy pollution periods, and during the dust storm; (3) after the dust storm, TSP captured by leaves significantly increased, especially for the broadleaved tree species; and the particulates number in the grooves on leaves’ surface increased particularly sharply. This study will help improve the dust resistance and retention efficiency of forest shelterbelt projects during dust storms.

Abstract. High concentrations of PM2.5 (particulate matter with an aerodynamic diameter less than 2.5 µm) in China have caused severe visibility degradation. Accurate simulations of PM2.5 and its chemical components are essential for evaluating the effectiveness of pollution control strategies and the health and climate impacts of air pollution. In this study, we compared the GEOS-Chem model simulations with comprehensive datasets for organic aerosol (OA), sulfate, nitrate, and ammonium in China. Model results are evaluated spatially and temporally against observations. The new OA scheme with a simplified secondary organic aerosol (SOA) parameterization significantly improves the OA simulations in polluted urban areas, highlighting the important contributions of anthropogenic SOA from semivolatile and intermediate-volatility organic compounds. The model underestimates sulfate and overestimates nitrate for most of the sites throughout the year. More significant underestimation of sulfate occurs in winter, while the overestimation of nitrate is extremely large in summer. The model is unable to capture some of the main features in the diurnal pattern of the PM2.5 chemical components, suggesting inaccuracies in the presented processes. Potential model adjustments that may lead to a better representation of the boundary layer height, the precursor emissions, hydroxyl radical concentrations, the heterogeneous formation of sulfate and nitrate, and the wet deposition of nitric acid and nitrate have been tested in the sensitivity analysis. The results show that uncertainties in chemistry perhaps dominate the model biases. The proper implementation of heterogeneous sulfate formation and the good estimates of the concentrations of sulfur dioxide, hydroxyl radical, and aerosol liquid water are essential for the improvement of the sulfate simulation. The update of the heterogeneous uptake coefficient of nitrogen dioxide significantly reduces the modeled concentrations of nitrate. However, the large overestimation of nitrate concentrations remains in summer for all tested cases. The possible bias in the chemical production and the wet deposition of nitrate cannot fully explain the model overestimation of nitrate, suggesting issues related to the atmospheric removal of nitric acid and nitrate. A better understanding of the atmospheric nitrogen budget, in particular, the role of the photolysis of particulate nitrate, is needed for future model developments. Moreover, the results suggest that the remaining underestimation of OA in the model is associated with the underrepresented production of SOA.

Abstract. Air pollution, in particular high concentrations of particulate matter smaller than 1 µm in diameter (PM1), continues to be a major health problem, and meteorology is known to substantially influence atmospheric PM concentrations. However, the scientific understanding of the ways in which complex interactions of meteorological factors lead to high-pollution episodes is inconclusive. In this study, a novel, data-driven approach based on empirical relationships is used to characterize and better understand the meteorology-driven component of PM1 variability. A tree-based machine learning model is set up to reproduce concentrations of speciated PM1 at a suburban site southwest of Paris, France, using meteorological variables as input features. The model is able to capture the majority of occurring variance of mean afternoon total PM1 concentrations (coefficient of determination (R2) of 0.58), with model performance depending on the individual PM1 species predicted. Based on the models, an isolation and quantification of individual, season-specific meteorological influences for process understanding at the measurement site is achieved using SHapley Additive exPlanation (SHAP) regression values. Model results suggest that winter pollution episodes are often driven by a combination of shallow mixed layer heights (MLHs), low temperatures, low wind speeds, or inflow from northeastern wind directions. Contributions of MLHs to the winter pollution episodes are quantified to be on average ∼5 µg/m3 for MLHs below <500 m a.g.l. Temperatures below freezing initiate formation processes and increase local emissions related to residential heating, amounting to a contribution to predicted PM1 concentrations of as much as ∼9 µg/m3. Northeasterly winds are found to contribute ∼5 µg/m3 to predicted PM1 concentrations (combined effects of u- and v-wind components), by advecting particles from source regions, e.g. central Europe or the Paris region. Meteorological drivers of unusually high PM1 concentrations in summer are temperatures above ∼25 ∘C (contributions of up to ∼2.5 µg/m3), dry spells of several days (maximum contributions of ∼1.5 µg/m3), and wind speeds below ∼2 m/s (maximum contributions of ∼3 µg/m3), which cause a lack of dispersion. High-resolution case studies are conducted showing a large variability of processes that can lead to high-pollution episodes. The identification of these meteorological conditions that increase air pollution could help policy makers to adapt policy measures, issue warnings to the public, or assess the effectiveness of air pollution measures.

Abstract. In response to the need for an up-to-date emissions inventory and the recent achievement of geostationary observations afforded by the Geostationary Environment Monitoring Spectrometer (GEMS) and its sister instruments, this study aims to establish a top-down approach for adjusting aerosol precursor emissions over East Asia. This study involves a series of the TROPOspheric Monitoring Instrument (TROPOMI) NO2 product, the GEMS aerosol optical depth (AOD) data fusion product and its proxy product, and chemical transport model (CTM)-based inverse modeling techniques. We begin by sequentially adjusting bottom-up estimates of nitrogen oxides (NOx) and primary particulate matter (PM) emissions, both of which significantly contribute to aerosol loadings over East Asia to reduce model biases in AOD simulations during the year 2019. While the model initially underestimates AOD by 50.73 % on average, the sequential emissions adjustments that led to overall increases in the amounts of NOx emissions by 122.79 % and of primary PM emissions by 76.68 % and 114.63 % (single- and multiple-instrument-derived emissions adjustments, respectively) reduce the extents of AOD underestimation to 33.84 % and 19.60 %, respectively. We consider the outperformance of the model using the emissions constrained by the data fusion product to be the result of the improvement in the quantity of available data. Taking advantage of the data fusion product, we perform sequential emissions adjustments during the spring of 2022, the period during which the substantial reductions in anthropogenic emissions took place accompanied by the COVID-19 pandemic lockdowns over highly industrialized and urbanized regions in China. While the model initially overestimates surface PM2.5 concentrations by 47.58 % and 20.60 % in the North China Plain (NCP) region and South Korea (hereafter referred to as Korea), the sequential emissions adjustments that led to overall decreases in NOx and primary PM emissions by 7.84 % and 9.03 %, respectively, substantially reduce the extents of PM2.5 underestimation to 19.58 % and 6.81 %, respectively. These findings indicate that the series of emissions adjustments, supported by the TROPOMI and GEMS-involved data fusion products, performed in this study are generally effective at reducing model biases in simulations of aerosol loading over East Asia; in particular, the model performance tends to improve to a greater extent on the condition that spatiotemporally more continuous and frequent observational references are used to capture variations in bottom-up estimates of emissions. In addition to reconfirming the close association between aerosol precursor emissions and AOD as well as surface PM2.5 concentrations, the findings of this study could provide a useful basis for how to most effectively exploit multisource top-down information for capturing highly varying anthropogenic emissions.

Abstract. The first EMEP intensive measurement periods were held in June 2006 and January 2007. The measurements aimed to characterize the aerosol chemical compositions, including the gas/aerosol partitioning of inorganic compounds. The measurement program during these periods included daily or hourly measurements of the secondary inorganic components, with additional measurements of elemental- and organic carbon (EC and OC) and mineral dust in PM1, PM2.5 and PM10. These measurements have provided extended knowledge regarding the composition of particulate matter and the temporal and spatial variability of PM, as well as an extended database for the assessment of chemical transport models. This paper summarise the first experiences of making use of measurements from the first EMEP intensive measurement periods along with EMEP model results from the updated model version to characterise aerosol composition. We investigated how the PM chemical composition varies between the summer and the winter month and geographically. The observation and model data are in general agreement regarding the main features of PM10 and PM2.5 composition and the relative contribution of different components, though the EMEP model tends to slightly underestimate PM10 and PM2.5 compared to measurements. The intensive measurement data has identified areas where improvements are needed. In particular, the model description of formation of coarse nitrate on sea salt and dust particles requires further attention. Hourly concurrent measurements of gaseous and particulate components for the first time facilitated testing of modelled diurnal variability of the gas/aerosol partitioning of nitrogen species. In general, the modelled diurnal cycles of nitrate and ammonium aerosols are in good agreement with the measurements. As expected, the diurnal variability of ammonia is not very well captured, but this will probably improve if the EMEP model is coupled to a dynamic, mechanistic ammonia emission module. The largest underestimations of aerosol mass are seen in Italy during winter, which to a large extent may be explained by an underestimation of residential wood burning source. It should be noted that both primary and secondary OC has been included in the calculations for the first time, showing promising results. Mineral dust is important, especially in southern Europe, and the model seems to capture the dust episodes well. The lack of measurements of mineral dust hampers the possibility for model evaluation for this highly uncertain PM component. There are also lessons learnt regarding improved measurements for future intensive periods. There is a need for increased comparability between the measurements at different sites. For the nitrogen compounds it is clear that more measurements using artefact free methods based on continuous measurement methods and/or denuders are needed. For EC/OC, a reference methodology (both in field and laboratory) was lacking during these periods giving problems with comparability, though presently measurement protocols have been established and these should be followed by the Parties to the EMEP Protocol. For measurements with no defined protocols, it might be a good solution to use centralised laboratories to ensure comparability across the network. To cope with the introduction of these new measurements new reporting guidelines have been developed to ensure that all proper information about the methodologies and data quality is given.

Abstract. Asian dust is a seasonal meteorological phenomenon which affects east Asia, and has severe consequences on the air quality of China, North and South Korea and Japan. Despite the continental extent, the prediction of severe episodes and the anticipation of their consequences is challenging. Three 1-year experiments were run to assess the skill of the model of the European Centre for Medium-Range Weather Forecasts (ECMWF) in monitoring Asian dust and understand its relative contribution to the aerosol load over China. Data used were the Moderate Resolution Imaging Spectroradiometer (MODIS) Dark Target and the Deep Blue aerosol optical depth (AOD). In particular the experiments aimed at understanding the added value of data assimilation runs over a model run without any aerosol data. The year 2013 was chosen as representative of the availability of independent AOD data from two established ground-based networks (AERONET, Aerosol Robotic Network, and CARSNET, China Aerosol Remote Sensing Network), which could be used to evaluate experiments. Particulate matter (PM) data from the China Environmental Protection Agency were also used in the evaluation. Results show that the assimilation of satellite AOD data is beneficial to predict the extent and magnitude of desert dust events and to improve the short-range forecast of such events. The availability of observations from the MODIS Deep Blue algorithm over bright surfaces is an asset, allowing for a better localization of the sources and definition of the dust events. In general both experiments constrained by data assimilation perform better than the unconstrained experiment, generally showing smaller normalized mean bias and fractional gross error with respect to the independent verification datasets. The impact of the assimilated satellite observations is larger at analysis time, but lasts into the forecast up to 48 h. The performance of the global model in terms of particulate matter does not show the same degree of skill as the performance in terms of optical depth. Despite this, the global model is able to capture some regional pollution patterns. This indicates that the global model analyses may be used as boundary conditions for regional air quality models at higher resolution, enhancing their performance in situations in which part of the pollution may have originated from large-scale mechanisms. While assimilation is not a substitute for model development and characterization of the emission sources, results indicate that it can play a role in delivering improved monitoring of Asian dust optical depth.

The first in the series of Azuberths Game Changer publications “Synergy of the Conventional Crude Oil and the FT-GTL Processes for Sustainable Synfuels Production: The Game Changer Approach-Phase One Category” a.k.a. (DOI: 10.23880/ppej16000330) is targeted at reducing 80 per cent CO2 emissions from the internal combustion engines by upgrading from the conventional crude oil refinery products to the synthetic fuels products (ultra-low-carbon fuels). This paper will focus on the complete elimination of the remaining 20 per cent CO2 emissions (i.e. to achieve zero- CO2 emissions) in transportation and power generating internal combustion engines as well as in the other centralized emissions/emitters such as petroleum industry flare lines, industrial process and big technology industries scrubber flue gas, et cetera. This invention stems from similar biblical quote {Isaiah 6:8-New International Version (NIV)} which states, and then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?” And I (Isaiah) said, “Here am I. Send me!” Laterally, in this case I (Azunna) said, “Here am I. Please use me”. Hence the aftermath, IJN-Universal Emissions Liquefiers is a plug and play units for all categories of pollutants discharge into the atmosphere. The work is motivated by the scientific facts that (i) The release of CO2 from automotive exhaust effluents, industry vents and flue gas emissions into the atmosphere contributes to greenhouse gas (GHG) accumulation causing global warming hence climate changes issues such as flooding of coastlines/sea-rising, melting of the glaciers, disrupted weather patterns, bushburning/wildfire, depletion of Ozone layer, smog and air pollution, acidification of water bodies, runaway greenhouse effect, etc. (ii) Every gas stream (e.g., flue gas) can be made liquid by e.g. a series of compression, cooling and expansion steps and once in liquid form, the components of the gas can be separated in a distillation column. (iii) Captured liquefied gases can be put to various uses, especially carbon dioxide (CO2 ), which can be used for the production of renewable energy via Synfuels such as the e-fuel/solar fuel. The natural atmosphere is composed of 78% nitrogen, 21% oxygen, 0.9% argon, and only about 0.1% natural greenhouse gases, which include carbon dioxide, organic chemicals called chlorofluorocarbons (CFCs), methane, nitrous oxide, ozone, and many others. Although a small amount, these greenhouse gases make a big difference - they are the gases that allow the greenhouse effect to exist by trapping in some heat that would otherwise escape to space. Carbon dioxide, although not the most potent of the greenhouse gases, is the most important because of the huge volumes emitted into the air by combustion of fossil fuels (e.g., gasoline, diesel, fuel oil, coal, natural gas). In general, the major contributors to the greenhouse effect are: Burning of fossil fuels in automobiles, deforestation, farming processing and manufacturing factories, industrial waste and landfills, increasing animal and human respiration, etc. The increased number of factories, automobiles, and population increases the amount of these gases in the atmosphere. The greenhouse gases never let the radiations to escape from the earth atmosphere and increase the surface temperature of the earth. This then leads to global warming. The petroleum industry well sites vent/flare gases (methane, ethane, propane, butanes, H2 O (g), O2 , N2 , etc.). Internal combustion engines (automobiles-cars, vehicles, ships, trains, planes, etc.) release exhaust effluents (containing H2 O (g), CO2 , O2 , and N2 ); steam generators in large power plants and the process furnaces in large refineries, petrochemical and chemical plants, and incinerators burn considerable amounts of fossil fuels and therefore emit large amounts of flue gas to the ambient atmosphere. In general, Flue gas is the gas exiting to the atmosphere via a “flue”, which is a pipe or channel for conveying exhaust gases from a fireplace, oven, furnace, boiler or steam generator. The emitted flue gas contains carbon dioxide CO2 , carbon monoxide CO, sulphur oxide SO2 , nitrous oxide NO and particulates. Furthermore, GTL plants produce CO2 , H2 O and waste heat, while both pyrolysis and gasification plant generate gaseous products consisting of (a mixture of non-condensable gases such as H2 , CO2 , and CO and light hydrocarbons “e.g. CH4 ” at room temperature, as well as H2 O (g), O2 and complex hydrocarbons e.g. C2 H2 , C2 H4 , etc.). In general, all combustion is as a result of air-fuel mixture burning (i.e. air or oxygen mixing directly with biomass/ coal or with liquid/gaseous hydrocarbon inside internal combustion engines), releases carbon dioxide and steam (H2 O) back into the atmosphere as well as producing energy for work. Specifically, during combustion, carbon combines with oxygen to produce carbon dioxide (CO2 ). The principal emission from transportation and power generating internal combustion engines is carbon dioxide (CO2 ). The level of CO2 emission is linked to the amount of fuel consumed and the type of fuel used as well as the individual engine’s operating characteristics. For instance, diesel-powered engines have higher emission than petrol/gasoline-powered engines. Although emphasis is places more on CO2 , this investigation is ultimately concerned with the real-time liquefaction of all the components of gaseous release/emissions -related to air pollution/health problem. It is believed that the mortality rate from air pollution is eight times larger than the mortality caused by car accidents each year. Pollutants with the strongest evidence for public health concern include particulate matter (PM), ozone (O3 ), nitrogen dioxide (NO2 ) and sulphur dioxide (SO2 ). All the exhaust effluents gases/flue gas and vent/flare gases are captured by liquefying them and then put to various uses, to achieve “Net zero” emissions. Fundamentally, the objective of the present invention is to develop a compact device (Universal Emissions Liquefiers) that can be retro-fitted onto the exhaust tailpipe-end of the internal combustion engines (diesel-powered, gasoline-powered, and hybrid automobiles-cars, vehicles, SUV’s, trucks, motor cycles, tri-cycles, portable electric generators, sea and cargo ships/ boats, trains, planes, rockets, etc.) and outlet of industrial machines that release flue gases through exhaust/scrubber channels, as well as crude oil, refined products storage tanks that vent greenhouse gases into the atmosphere, coal processing units/ plants and turn them into liquid { CO2 (l), N2 (l), O2 (l), etc.} or powdered components or chemically transform them in realtime with selective catalysts to any other specific compound, e.g. treating CO2 with hydrogen gas (H2) can produce methanol (CH3 OH), methane (CH4 ), or formic acid (HCOOH), while reaction of CO2 with alkali (e.g. NaOH) can give carbonates (NaHCO3 ) and bicarbonates (Na2 CO3 ). Nitrogen (N2 ) to ammonia (NH3 ) or Hydrazine (N2 H4 ), and molecular oxygen (O2 ) to hydrogen peroxide (H2 O2 ), et cetera. Alternatively, in new automobiles designs, the universal emissions liquefiers’ device can be directly net-worked on the floor alongside the catalytic converters and may eliminate the need for muffler/silencer/resonator. This is achieved by the application of any of the five main gas capture/separation technologies: Liquid absorption, Solid adsorption, Membrane separation (with and without solvent- organic or inorganic), Cryogenic refrigeration/distillation, and Electrochemical pH-swing separation or their combination to selectively trap and liquefy the individual pollutants. According to the fact from CarBuster, almost 0.009 metric tons of carbon dioxide is produced from every gallon of gasoline burned, which means that the average car user makes about 11.7 tons of carbon dioxide each year from their cars alone

Airborne Particulate Matter (PM) released through exhaust fans from livestock barns can be environmentally objectionable resulting in enhanced odors and the release ammonia and harmful microbes. While large trees and woody shrubs have been recommended as Vegetative Environmental Buffers (VEB) for capturing PM from exhaust from off the ground ventilation fans in livestock barns, grasses due to their smaller vegetative size may be more suitable for capturing PM from exhaust from ground level manure pit fans often unique to swine barns. Since there is limited information on the use of grasses as VEB in animal barns, we developed this preliminary investigation to determine if warm season grasses (Panicum virgatum L. ‘Northwind’, Miscanthus sinensis Anderss. ‘Zebrinus’, and Andropogon gerardii Vitman ‘Blackhawk’) could capture air borne particulates (PM10 and PM2.5) from ground level manure pit exhaust fans located at a swine finishing facility near Lancaster, Pennsylvania (USA). We observed that all three grass species accumulated PM on their leaves with the more pubescent leafed species (Miscanthus and Andropogon) tending to capture more PM on their leaves than the non-pubescent leafed Panicum. Additional research evaluating a larger number of plants and species is needed for more accurate interpretation of results and to further refine and improve the conclusions and recommendations on the use of warm season grasses as VEB for PM in these facilities.

AbstractWe consider scalar-valued variational models for pattern formation in helimagnetic compounds and in shape memory alloys. Precisely, we consider a non-convex multi-well bulk energy term on the unit square, which favors four gradients $$({\pm }\,\alpha ,{\pm }\,\beta )$$ ( ± α , ± β ) , regularized by a singular perturbation in terms of the total variation of the second derivative. We derive scaling laws for the minimal energy in the case of incompatible affine boundary conditions in terms of the singular perturbation parameter as well as the ratio $$\alpha /\beta $$ α / β and the incompatibility of the boundary condition. We discuss how well-studied models for martensitic microstructures in shape-memory alloys arise as a limiting case, and relations between the different models in terms of scaling laws. In particular, we show that scaling regimes arise in which an interpolation between the rather different branching-type constructions in the spirit of Kohn and Müller (Commun Pure Appl Math 47(4):405–435, 1994) and Ginster and Zwicknagl (J Nonlinear Sci 33:20, 2023), respectively, occurs. A particular technical difficulty in the lower bounds arises from the fact that the energy scalings involve various logarithmic terms that we capture in matching upper and lower scaling bounds.

Abstract Background His bundle pacing (HBP) can be affected by high thresholds and low sensing. Thus, in selected patients including a back-up lead is advisable. Objective Single-centre retrospective analysis of a large HBP experience, focusing on the back-up lead utilization over the years. Methods 677 pts (76±8 years; 433 males) were implanted with HBP from 2004 to 2019 July. The pts received S-HBP (67%) or NS-HBP by the 3830 lead. The pacing indications were AV block 54%, sinus node disease 17%, slow atrial fibrillation 23%, heart failure 6%. Ischemic cardiopathy was found in 26%; hypertension in 83%, diabetes in28% pts. Baseline QRS duration was 123±32 ms and EF 56±12%. Results 266 (39%) pts received the back-up lead. In sinus rhythm we implanted 3-chamber PM (His lead:LV port; VV delay 80 ms: His pulses and apical pacing during the refractory period). 30 pts (11%) received a particular type of 3-chamber PM which provides back-up pacing only if His capture fails, thus saving energy. In atrial fibrillation 2-chamber PM was implanted (His lead: atrial port, DVI). We recorded a significant decrease of back-up lead use over the years, strictly related to operators/centre experience (&gt;70% during the first years, nearly 10% during the last year). The C315 fixed curve sheath, strongly contributed to the rapid reduction of back-up lead use thanks to better lead fixation and stability. Conclusion The back-up lead utilization is progressively decreasing. It is strictly related to the operator/centre experience. The presence of the back-up lead could strengthen the Hisian pacing reliability, potentially impacting pacing indication even in advanced conduction disturbances and saving device longevity. Funding Acknowledgement Type of funding source: None

Abstract A 78 years old man was admitted to our hospital because of a syncope and evidence of complete AV– block, low ventricular rate and suitable for definitive PM implantation. He had no other pathologies or previous surgical interventions. A transthoracic echocardiography was performed and any particular structural anomaly was detected and the left ventricular ejection fraction was normal. In the electrophysiology laboratory, a vascular access through the left axillary vein was used to insert a passive fixation catheter for the right ventricular using a 9 F sheath. When the ventricular lead reached the right atrium it was impossible to advance it farther into the right ventricle; the lead was blocked near tricuspid anulus without any possibility to move it towards any direction despite many and vigorous manual traction maneuvers were attempted. Immediately, a transesophageal echocardiography was performed and it showed the lead entrapment into a mobile structure, likely a Chiari network.The patient needed a PM implantation as soon as possible and also a temporary PM could further complicate the procedure. Since the hospital did not have a cardiac surgery department and our crew was not familiar with lead extractions, an expert hemodynamist, who suggested to remove the lead by using a snare, was consulted. The tip of the lead was stuck in the atrial wall so it was impossible to capture it as expected. So, from right femoral vein access, a 6F pig–tail catheter was inserted through a a 45 cm– 8 F Terumo Destination sheath in order to give more stability to the pig–tail catheter until it hooked the lead. A 0.035 mm normal hydrophilic Terumo wire was later passed into the pig–tail catheter, snared and externalized with an AndraSnare 25 catheter inserted through another 6F introducer. A vigorous traction was performed simultaneously pulling both the ends of the wire from the bottom and the lead from the top. After a few seconds, the lead was unstuck and removed from the axillary vein [Fig. 1a,b]. At the external examination, the tines of the lead were found attached to a net–like structure that was actually the Chiari network that had been completely removed from the atrium [Fig 2–3]. A transthoracic echocardiogram ruled out any pericardial effusion. The anatomical finding was sent to tissue analysis and was confirmed to be the tendon material. After that the patient was immediately implanted with a VDD PM without any complications, and dismissed after 2 days.

IntroductionWith obesity rates rising in Canada, schools have been identified as an ideal setting for health promotion interventions. In 2011, Ontario's School Food and Beverage Policy (P/PM 150) was mandated by the Ministry of Education for all schools in the province to try and improve the diets and food behaviours of youth. Policies have been introduced in a number of jurisdictions internationally, but what is not known are the best ways to implement them.PurposeThe purpose of this research was to i) describe the school food context in one Ontario Region, ii) examine, from the perspectives of multiple stakeholders, the process of P/PM 150 implementation including perceived challenges/successes with policy implementation and its impacts; iii) analyze the results in relation to the constructs of Damschroder's Consolidated Framework for Implementation Research (CFIR).MethodsA qualitative interpretive study was conducted to capture perceptions of stakeholders (students, parents, school stakeholders and food service providers) in one large, diverse region in Ontario, Canada. This qualitative study consisted of 5 food service provider interviews, 15 school stakeholder interviews, 5 elementary school parent focus groups, and 11 student focus groups. Two surveys were conducted that provided responses to open‐ended questions from 46 secondary school parent surveys, and 1,251 Grade 6–10 students. Focus group and open ended survey data were analyzed using NVivo 10 qualitative analysis software.ResultsResults reported on stakeholder perceptions of: i) school food, ii) school food behaviours, iii) factors that influence school food behaviours (including individual, social, macro‐level factors), iv) and the multiple environments (school, home, community) that influence food behaviours. Policy‐specific results provided stakeholders’ knowledge and opinions of P/PM 150, the process of policy implementation, factors influencing policy implementation (including successes and challenges) as well as the perceived outcomes and impacts of the policy on school food environments and student food behaviours. All results were analyzed using Damschroder's CFIR to better understand how the domains and constructs described in the framework related to school food policy implementation in this Region. Factors influencing policy implementation will be presented. These closely aligned with the constructs described in CFIR. Two additional constructs were identified that were not reflected in the framework: ‘implementation climate outside the school’ and ‘adaptability of the inner setting’. Study results indicated that these were significant factors influencing implementation in Peel Region schools. Therefore, these factors should be a considered in further revisions of the framework, in particular where it is being used to support policy implementation.ConclusionImplementation of a new school food policy, P/PM 150, was found to be complex with many factors influencing its successful uptake by school stakeholders. While participants discussed many challenges and negative outcomes and impacts resulting from P/PM 150, positive impacts on school food and food behaviours were also reported. Those planning to implement school food policies in the future need to consider comprehensive approaches that address potential influencing factors and environments outside of the school that impact student food behaviours.Support or Funding InformationFunding: CIHR‐Danone Institute Doctoral Research Award & Peel Public Health

AbstractWe investigate the detection prospects for two-neutrino and neutrinoless second-order weak decays of $$^{124}{\mathrm{Xe}}$$ 124 Xe – double-electron capture ($$0/2\upnu \text {ECEC}$$ 0 / 2 ν ECEC ), electron capture with positron emission ($$0/2\upnu \text {EC}\upbeta ^+$$ 0 / 2 ν EC β + ) and double-positron emission ($$0/2\upnu \upbeta ^+\upbeta ^+$$ 0 / 2 ν β + β + ) – in multi-tonne xenon time projection chambers. We simulate the decays in a liquid xenon medium and develop a reconstruction algorithm which uses the multi-particle coincidence in these decays to separate signal from background. This is used to compute the expected detection efficiencies as a function of position resolution and energy threshold for planned experiments. In addition, we consider an exhaustive list of possible background sources and find that they are either negligible in rate or can be greatly reduced using our topological reconstruction criteria. In particular, we draw two conclusions: First, with a theoretical half-life of $$T_{1/2}^{2\upnu \text {EC}\upbeta ^+} = (1.7 \pm 0.6)\cdot 10^{23}\,\text {year}$$ T 1 / 2 2 ν EC β + = ( 1.7 ± 0.6 ) · 10 23 year , the $$2\upnu \text {EC}\upbeta ^{+}$$ 2 ν EC β + decay of $$^{124}$$ 124 Xe will likely be detected in upcoming Dark Matter experiments (e.g. XENONnT or LZ), and their major background will be $$\upgamma $$ γ -rays from detector construction materials. Second, searches for the $$0\upnu \text {EC}\upbeta ^+$$ 0 ν EC β + decay mode will likely be background-free, and new parameter space may be within reach. To this end we investigate two different scenarios of existing experimental constraints on the effective neutrino mass. The necessary 500 kg-year exposure of $$^{124}$$ 124 Xe could be achieved by the baseline design of the DARWIN observatory, or by extracting and using the $$^{124}$$ 124 Xe from the tailings of the nEXO experiment. We demonstrate how a combination of $$^{124}$$ 124 Xe results with those from $$0\upnu \upbeta ^-\upbeta ^-$$ 0 ν β - β - searches in $$^{136}$$ 136 Xe could help to identify the neutrinoless decay mechanism.

AbstractSource camera identification is an important and challenging problem in digital image forensics. The clues of the device used to capture the digital media are very useful for Law Enforcement Agencies (LEAs), especially to help them collect more intelligence in digital forensics. In our work, we focus on identifying the source camera device based on digital videos using deep learning methods. In particular, we evaluate deep learning models with increasing levels of complexity for source camera identification and show that with such sophistication the scene-suppression techniques do not aid in model performance. In addition, we mention several common machine learning strategies that are counter-productive in achieving a high accuracy for camera identification. We conduct systematic experiments using 28 devices from the VISION data set and evaluate the model performance on various video scenarios—flat (i.e., homogeneous), indoor, and outdoor and evaluate the impact on classification accuracy when the videos are shared via social media platforms such as YouTube and WhatsApp. Unlike traditional PRNU-noise (Photo Response Non-Uniform)-based methods which require flat frames to estimate camera reference pattern noise, the proposed method has no such constraint and we achieve an accuracy of $$72.75 \pm 1.1 \%$$ 72.75 ± 1.1 % on the benchmark VISION data set. Furthermore, we also achieve state-of-the-art accuracy of $$71.75\%$$ 71.75 % on the QUFVD data set in identifying 20 camera devices. These two results are the best ever reported on the VISION and QUFVD data sets. Finally, we demonstrate the runtime efficiency of the proposed approach and its advantages to LEAs.

Abstract Growing environmental concerns and demand for a better fuel economy are driving forces that motivate the research for more advanced engines. Multi-mode combustion strategies have gained attention for their potential to provide high thermal efficiency and low emissions for light-duty applications. These strategies target optimizing the engine performance by correlating different combustion modes to load operating conditions. The extension from boosted spark ignition (SI) mode at high loads to advanced compression ignition (ACI) mode at low loads can be achieved by increasing the compression ratio and utilizing intake air heating. Further, in order to enable an accurate control of intake charge condition for ACI mode and rapid mode-switches, it is essential to gain fundamental insights into the autoignition process. Within the scope of ACI, homogeneous charge compression ignition (HCCI) mode is of significant interest. It is known for its potential benefits, operation at low fuel consumption, low NOx, and particulate matter (PM) emissions. In the present work, a virtual Cooperative Fuel Research (CFR) engine model is used to analyze fuel effects on ACI combustion. In particular, the effect of fuel octane sensitivity (S) (at constant Research Octane Number (RON)) on autoignition propensity is assessed under beyond-RON (BRON) and beyond-MON (BMON) ACI conditions. The three-dimensional CFR engine computational fluid dynamics (CFD) model employs a finite-rate chemistry approach with a multi-zone binning strategy to capture autoignition. Two binary blends with Research Octane Number (RON) of 90 are chosen for this study: primary reference fuel (PRF) with S = 0 and toluene–heptane (TH) blend with S = 10.8, representing paraffinic and aromatic gasoline surrogates. Reduced mechanisms for these blends are generated from a detailed gasoline surrogate kinetic mechanism. Simulation results with the reduced mechanisms are validated against experimental data from an in-house CFR engine, with respect to in-cylinder pressure, heat release rate, and combustion phasing. Thereafter, the sensitivity of combustion behavior to ACI operating condition (BRON versus BMON), air-fuel ratio (λ = 2 and 3), and engine speed (600 and 900 rpm) is analyzed for both fuels. It is shown that the sensitivity of a fuel’s autoignition characteristics to λ and engine speed significantly differs at BRON and BMON conditions. Moreover, this sensitivity is found to vary among fuels, despite the same RON. It is also observed that the presence of low-temperature heat release (LTHR) under BRON condition leads to more sequential autoignition and longer combustion duration than BMON condition. Finally, the study indicates that the octane index (OI) fails to capture the trend in the variation of autoignition propensity with S under the BMON condition.

Abstract Funding Acknowledgements Type of funding sources: None. Elderly patients may be at great risk of complications and present a higher incidence of comorbidities which make challenging PM implant procedure. The use of leadless pacing systems has imposed itself to overcome peri- and post-procedural complications related to the presence of transvenous leads and the post-operative recovery, being a favorable option in elderly patients. The study aimed to investigate feasibility and long-term outcomes of M-TPS implant in a specific patient population, like the elderly, which represent a challenge for conventional cardiac pacing. Methods Between May 2014 and November 2021, 155 patients (120 males, mean age 78±9 y) underwent M-TPS implantation in our Center, targeting a non-apical site of delivery when feasible. A subgroup of 69 patients (52 males, 75.36%) were older than 80 years. All patients fulfilled standard criteria for PM implantation with specific indication to receive VVI pacing. Study population was divided into two groups according to age (group 1 &lt; 79 years vs group 2≥80 years). The outcome evaluation included electrical performance (capture threshold, pacing impedance, R wave amplitude) before hospital discharge and then followed at 1, 6, and 12 months and then annually. Major complications were defined as life-threatening events, required surgical intervention or any event causing significant hemodynamic instability or resulting in death. Results In 69/155 cases (52 males, 75.36%) M-TPS was implanted in patients older than 80 years. There were no statistically significant differences between groups for demographics characteristics, except for age. The implant procedure was successful in all cases and no device-related events were registered during follow-up. In particular, no device infection and/or malfunction were reported. Patients were followed-up for an average of 24 months (median 18 months). No differences were observed between groups in procedure duration, single device delivery (group 1 vs group 2: 62.79% vs 65.22%, p=0.75), fluoroscopy time (group 1 vs group 2: 11.46 ±6.12 vs 11.37 ± 8.37 minutes, p=0.23), electrical performance at implant (group 1 vs group 2: pacing threshold 0.56 ± 0.37 V/0.24 ms vs 0.58 ± 0.31 V/0.24 ms, p=0.55; impedance 737.86 ± 173.50 Ohm vs 759.56 ± 255.35 Ohm, p=0.87; R wave amplitude 10.5 ± 5.18 mV vs 9.19 ± 4.45 mV, p=0.14) and at 18 [VB2] month F-U (group 1 vs group 2: pacing threshold 0.64 ± 0.55 V/0.24 ms vs 0.51 ± 0.1 V/0.24 ms, p=0.85; impedance 535.34 ± 102.53 Ohm vs 577.34 ± 69 Ohm, p=0.40; R wave amplitude 12.56 ± 4.56 mV vs 12.00 ± 5.8 mV, p=0.77[VB3] ). Conclusions The demand for cardiac pacing is strongly related to ageing, driving the clinical practice to look for the best solution for a considered fragile patient population. MTP-S implant is an effective and safe procedure in elderly patients, with similar electrical performance and outcome compared with younger patients at long-term follow.

Abstract Funding Acknowledgements Type of funding sources: None. Background Infections and malfunction are major indications to transvenous lead extraction. Managing extracted patients represents a clinical and interventional challenge, since this population may be at higher risk for mechanical, vascular or infective complications. The use of leadless pacing systems has been described as a potentially useful technology that could tackle the obstacles that affect this peculiar population. The study aimed to investigate feasibility and long-term outcomes of M-TPS implant in a specific patient population, like post transvenous lead extraction patients, which represent a challenge for conventional cardiac pacing. Methods Between May 2014 and November 2021, 155 patients (120 males, 77.42%, mean age 78 ± 9 y) underwent M-TPS implantation in our Center, targeting a non-apical site of delivery when feasible. A subgroup of 48 patients (39 males, 81.25%) had undergone transvenous lead extraction. All patients fulfilled standard criteria for pacemaker implantation with specific indication to receive VVI pacing. The outcome evaluation included electrical performance (capture threshold, pacing impedance, R wave amplitude) before hospital discharge and then followed at 1, 6, and 12 months and then annually. Major complications were defined as life-threatening events, required surgical intervention or any event causing significant hemodynamic instability or resulting in death. High pacing threshold (HPT) was defined as 1.0 V/0.24 ms. Results In 48/155 cases (39 males, 81,25%) M-TPS was implanted after successful transvenous lead extraction. There were no statistically significant differences between groups for demographics characteristics, and PM implant indications. The implant procedure was successful in all cases and no device-related events were registered during follow-up. In particular, no device infection and/or malfunction were reported. Patients were followed-up for an average of 24 months (median 18 months). No differences were observed between groups in procedure duration, single device delivery (group 1 vs group 2: 63.21% vs 73.91%, p=0.20), fluoroscopy time (group 1 vs group 2: 11.79 ± 7.53 vs 10.49 ± 6.19 minutes, p=0.64), electrical performance at implant (group 1 vs group 2: pacing threshold 0.54 ± 0.35 V/0.24 ms vs 0.62 ± 0.32 V/0.24 ms, p=0.09; impedance 758.02 ± 227.89 Ohm vs 724.26 ± 178.14 Ohm, p=0.36; R wave amplitude 10.1 ± 4.73 mV vs 9.59 ± 5.30 mV, p=0.50) and at 18 month F-U (group 1 vs group 2: pacing threshold 0.50 ± 0.10 V/0.24 ms vs 0.85 ± 0.9 V/0.24 ms, p=0.45; impedance 559.58 ± 94.43 Ohm vs 543.34 ± 64.39 Ohm, p=0.69; R wave amplitude 12.00 ± 5.06 mV vs 13.42 ± 5.77 mV, p=0.55). Conclusions Leadless pacemaker implant is a feasible, safe and effective option for patients treated with transvenous lead extraction, with electrical performance and outcomes comparable to a cohort of naïve patients at long-term follow up.

Abstract The use of leadless pacing systems could overcome peri-and post-procedural complications related to the presence of transvenous leads and the post-operative recovery, being a favorable option in elderly patients. The study aimed to investigate feasibility and outcomes of M-TPS implant in a specific patient population, like the elderly, which represent a challenge for conventional cardiac pacing. Methods Between May 2014 and March 2021, 138 patients (106 males, 77%, mean age 78) underwent M-TPS implantation in our Centre, targeting a non-apical site of delivery when feasible. A subgroup of 59 patients (43 males, 73%) were older than 80 years. All patients fulfilled standard criteria for pacemaker implantation with specific indication to receive VVI pacing. Study population was divided into two groups according to age (group 1 &lt;80 years vs group 2 ≥80 years). The outcome evaluation included electrical performance (capture threshold, pacing impedance, R wave amplitude) before hospital discharge and then followed at 1, 6, and 12 months and then annually. Major complications were defined as life-threatening events, requiring surgical intervention or any event causing significant hemodynamic instability or resulting in death. High pacing threshold (HPT) was defined as &gt;1.0 V@ 0.24 ms. Results In 59/138 cases (43 males, 73%) M-TPS was implanted in patients older than 80 years. There were no statistically significant differences between groups for demographics characteristics, except for age, and PM implant indications. The implant procedure was successful in all cases and no device-related events were registered during follow-up. In particular, no device infection and/or malfunction were reported. Patients were followed-up for an average of 22,19±20,66 months (median 18 months). No differences were observed between groups in procedure duration (44,97±20,24 min vs 45,80±23,27 min; P=0,83), single device delivery (group 1 vs group 2: 63,16% vs 66,07%; P=0,73), fluoroscopy time (11,64±6,22 min vs 12,13±8,67 min; P=0,72) electrical performance at implant [group 1 vs group 2: pacing threshold 0,56±0,37 vs 0,58±0,32, P=0,78; impedance 727,53±170,36 vs 752,88±256,21, P=0,49; R wave amplitude 10,39±4,86 vs 9,26±4,66, P=0,18] and at median follow-up [group 1 vs group 2: pacing threshold 0,63±0,55 vs 0,51±0,1, P=0,40; impedance 535,34±102,53 vs 577,34±69,02, P=0,20; R wave amplitude 12,56±4,56 vs 12,00±5,80, P=0,77] Conclusions The demand for cardiac pacing is strongly related to ageing, driving the clinical practice to look for the best solution for a considered fragile population. MTP-S implant is an effective and safe procedure in elderly patients, with similar electrical performance and outcome compared with younger patients at mid-term follow-up. Funding Acknowledgement Type of funding sources: None.

Introduction In October 2007, the federal Coalition government legislated that all eligible migrants and refugees who want to become Australian citizens must sit and pass the newly designed Australian citizenship test. Prime Minister John Howard stated that by studying the essential knowledge on Australian culture, history and values that his government had defined in official citizenship test resources, migrants seeking the conferral of Australian citizenship would become "integrated" into the broader, "mainstream" community and attain a sense of belonging as new Australian citizens (qtd. in "Howard Defends Citizenship Test"). In this paper, I conduct a genealogical analysis of Becoming an Australian Citizen, the resource booklet that contains all of the information needed to prepare for the test. Focusing specifically on the section in the booklet entitled A Story of Australia which details Australian history and framing my research through a Foucauldian perspective on governmentality that focuses on the interrelationship with truth, power and knowledge in the production of subjectivities, I suggest that the inclusion of the subject of history in the test was constituted as a new order of knowledge that aimed to shape new citizens' understanding of what constituted the "correct" version of Australian identity. History was hence promoted as a form of knowledge that relied on objectivity in order to excavate the truths of Australia's past. These truths, it was claimed, had shaped the very values that the Australian people lived by and that now prospective citizens were expected to embrace. My objective is to problematise this claim that the discipline of history consists of objective truths and to move beyond recent debates in politics and historiography known as the history wars. I suggest that history instead should be viewed as a "curative science" (Foucault 90), that is, a transformative form of knowledge that focuses on the discontinuities as well as the continuities in Australia's past and which has the potential to "delimit truths" (Weeks) and thus heal the fatal impact of an official history dominated by notions of progress and achievements. This kind of cultural research not only has the capacity to influence policy-making in the field of civic education for migrant citizens, but it also has the potential to broaden understanding of Australia's past by drawing on alternative stories of Australia including the ruptures and counter stories that come together to form the multiplicity that is Australian identity. Values Eclipsing History The test was introduced at a time when the impact of globalisation was shifting conceptions of the conferral of citizenship in many Western nations from a notion of new citizens gaining legal and political rights to a concept through which becoming a naturalized citizen meant adopting a nation's particular way of life and embracing a set of core national values (Allison; Grattan; Johnson). In Australia, these values were defined as a set of principles based around liberal-democratic notions of freedom, equality, the rule of law and tolerance and promoted as "central to Australia remaining a stable, prosperous and peaceful community" (DIC 5). The Howard government believed that social cohesion was threatened by the differences emanating from recent arrivals, particularly non-Christian and non-white arrivals who did not share Australian values. These threats were contextualized through such incidents as asylum seekers allegedly throwing children overboard, the Cronulla Beach riots in 2005 and terrorist attacks close to home in Bali. Adopting Australian values was promoted as the solution to this crisis of difference. In this way, the Australian values promoted through the Australian citizenship test were allotted "a reforming role" whilst migrants and their differences were targeted as "objects of reform" (Bennett 105). Reform would be achieved by prospective citizens engaging freely in the ethical conduct of self-study of the history and values contained in the citizenship resource booklet. With some notable exceptions (see e.g. Lake and Tavan), inclusion of historical content in the test received less public scrutiny than Australian values. This is despite the fact that 37 per cent of the booklet's content was dedicated to Australian history compared to only 7 per cent dedicated to Australian values. This is also remarkable since previously, media and scholarly attention over the preceding two decades had agonised over how British colonisation and indigenous dispossession were to be represented in Australian public institutions. Popularly known as the history wars, these debates now seemed irrelevant for regulating the conduct of new citizens. The Year of the Apology: The End of the History Wars? There was also a burgeoning feeling among the broader community that a truce was in sight in the history wars (cf. Riley; Throsby). This view was supported by the outcome of the November 2007 federal election when the Howard government was defeated after eleven years in office. John Howard had been a key player in the history wars, intervening in decisions as wide ranging as the management of national museums and the preparation of high school history curricula. In his final year as prime minister, Howard became involved with overseeing what historical content was to be included in Becoming an Australian Citizen (cf. Andrews; Hirst). This had a lasting impact as even after Howard's electoral defeat, the Australian citizenship test and its accompanying resource booklet still remained in use for another two years as the essential guide that was to inform test candidates on how to be model Australian citizens. Whilst Howard's test was retained Kevin Rudd made the official Apology to the Stolen Generation as one of his first acts as prime minister in February 2008. His electoral victory was heralded as the coming of "a new intellectual culture" with "deep thinking and balanced analysis" (Nile). The Apology was also celebrated in both media and academic circles as the beginning of the process of reconciliation for both relations with indigenous and non-indigenous Australians as well as "reconciling" the controversies in history that had plagued Howard's prime ministership. In popular culture, too, the end of the history wars seemed imminent. In film, the Apology was celebrated with the release of Australia in November of that same year. Luhrmann's film became a box office hit that was later taken up by Tourism Australia to promote the nation as a desirable destination for international tourists. Langton praised it as an "eccentrically postmodern account of a recent frontier" that "has leaped over the ruins of the 'history wars' and given Australians a new past" and concluded that the film presented "an alternative history from the one John Howard and his followers constructed" (12). Similar appraisals had been made of the Australian citizenship test as the author of the historical content in the resource booklet, John Hirst, revealed that the final version of A Story of Australia "was not John Howard's and was organised contrary to his declared preference for narrative" (35). Hirst is a conservative historian who was employed by the Howard government to write "the official history of Australia" (28) for migrants and who had previously worked on other projects initiated by the Howard government, including the high school history curriculum review known as the History Summit in 2006. In an article entitled Australia: The Official History and published in The Monthly of that very same year as the Apology, Hirst divulged how in writing A Story of Australia for the citizenship resource booklet, his aim was to be "fair-minded and balanced" (31). He claimed to do this by detailing what he understood as the "two sides" in Australia's historical and political controversies relating to "Aboriginal affairs" (31), known more commonly as the history wars. Hirst's resolve was to "report the position of the two sides" (31), choosing to briefly focus on the views of historian Henry Reynolds and the political scientist Robert Manne on the one side, as well as presenting the conservative views of journalists Keith Windshuttle and Andrew Bolt on the other side (31-32). Hirst was undoubtedly referring to the two sides in the history wars that are characterised by on the one hand, commentators who believe that the brutal impact of British colonisation on indigenous peoples should be acknowledged whilst those on the other who believe that Australians should focus on celebrating their nation's relatively "peaceful past". Popularly characterised as the black armband view against the white blindfold view of Australian history, this definition does not capture the complexities, ruptures and messiness of Australia's contested past or of the debates that surround it. Hirst's categorisation, is rather problematic; while Windshuttle and Bolt's association is somewhat understandable considering their shared support in denying the existence of the Stolen Generation and massacres of indigenous communities, the association of Reynolds with Manne is certainly contestable and can be viewed as a simplistic grouping together of the "bleeding hearts" in discourses surrounding Australian history. As with the film Australia, Hirst wanted to be "the recorder of myth and memory and not simply the critical historian" (32). Unlike the film Australia, Hirst remained committed to a particular view of the discipline of history that was committed to notions of objectivity and authenticity, stating that he "was not writing this history to embody (his) own views" (31) but rather, his purpose was to introduce to new citizens what he thought captured "what Australians of today knew and valued and celebrated in their history" (32). The textual analysis that follows will illustrate that despite the declaration of a "balanced" view of Australian history being produced for migrant consumption and the call for a truce in the history wars, A Story of Australia still reflected the values and principles of a celebratory white narrative that was not concerned with recognising any side of history that dealt with the fatal impact of colonialism in stories of Australia. Disrupting the Two Sides of History The success of Australia was built on lands taken from Aboriginal people after European settlement in 1788 (DIC 32). [...]The Aboriginal people were not without friends […]. Governor Macquarie (1810-1821) took a special interest in them, running a school for their children and offering them land for farming. But very few Aboriginal people were willing to move into European society; they were not very interested in what the Europeans had to offer. (DIC 32) Despite its author's protestations against a narrative format, A Story of Australia is written as a thematic narrative that is mainly concerned with describing a nation's trajectory towards progress. It includes the usual primary school project heroes of European explorers and settlers, all of them men: Captain James Cook, Arthur Phillip and Lachlan Macquarie (17-18). It privileges a British heritage and ignores the multicultural make-up of the Australian population. In this Australian story, the convict settlers are an important factor in nation building as they found "new opportunities in this strange colony" (18) and "the ordinary soldier, the digger is a national hero" (21). Indigenous peoples, on the other hand, are described in the past tense as part of pre-history having "hunter-gatherer traditions" (32), whose culture exists today only in spectacle and who have only themselves to blame for their marginalisation by refusing the help of the white settlers. Most notable in this particular version of history are the absent stories and absent characters; there is little mention of the achievements of women and nation-building is presented as an exclusively masculine enterprise. There is also scarce mention of the contribution of migrants. Also absent is any mention of the colonisation of the Australian continent that dispossessed its Indigenous peoples. For instance, the implementation of the assimilation policy that required the forcible removal of Aboriginal children from their families is not even named as the Stolen Generation in the resource booklet, and the fight for native land rights encapsulated in the historic Mabo decision of 1992 is referred to as merely a "separatist policy" (33). In this way, it cannot be claimed that this is a balanced portrayal of Australia's past even by Hirst's own standards for it is difficult to locate the side represented by Reynolds and Manne. Once again, comparisons with the film Australia are useful. Although praised for raising "many thorny issues" relating to "national legitimacy and Aboriginal sovereignty" (Konishi and Nugent), Ashenden concludes that the film is "a mix of muttering, avoidance of touchy topics, and sporadic outbursts". Hogan also argues that the film Australia is "an exercise in national wish fulfillment, staged as a high budget, unabashedly commercial and sporadically ironic spectacle" that "offers symbolic absolution for the violence of colonialism" (63). Additionally, Hirst's description of a "successful" nation being built on the "uncultivated" indigenous lands suggests that colonisation was necessary and unavoidable if Australia was to progress into a civilised nation. Both Hirst's A Story of Australia and his Australia: The Official History share more than just the audacious appropriation of a proper noun with the film Australia as these cultural texts grant prominence to the values and principles of a celebratory white narrative of Australian history while playing down the unpalatable episodes, making any prospective citizen who does not accept these "balanced" versions of historical truths as deviant and unworthy of becoming an Australian citizen. Our Australian Story: Reconciling the Fatal Impact The Australian citizenship test and its accompanying booklet, Becoming an Australian Citizen were replaced in October 2009 with a revised test and a new booklet entitled, Australian Citizenship: Our Common Bond. The Australian Citizenship Test Review Committee deemed the 2007 original test to be "flawed, intimidating to some and discriminatory" (Australian Citizenship Test Review Committee 3). It replaced mandatory knowledge of Australian values with that of the Citizenship Pledge and determined that the subject of Australian history, although "nice-to-know" was not essential for assessing the suitability of the conferral of Australian citizenship. History content is now included in the new booklet in the non-testable section under the more inclusive title of Our Australian Story. This particular version of history now names the Stolen Generation, includes references to Australia's multicultural make up and even recognises some of the fatal effects of British colonisation. The Apology features prominently over three long paragraphs (71) and Indigenous dispossession is now described under the title of Fatal Impact as follows: The early governors were told not to harm the Aboriginal people, but the British settlers moved onto Aboriginal land and many Aboriginal people were killed. Settlers were usually not punished for committing these crimes. (58) So does this change in tone in the official history in the resource booklet for prospective citizens "prove" that the history wars are over? This more conciliatory version of Australia's past is still not the "real proof" that the history wars are over for despite broadening its categories of what constitutes as historical truth, these truths still privilege an exclusive white perspective. For example, in the new resource booklet, detail on the Stolen Generation is included as a relevant historical event in relation to what the office of Prime Minister, the Bringing Them Home Report and the Official Apology have achieved for Indigenous Australians and for the national identity, stating that "the Sorry speech was an important step forward for all Australians" (71). Perhaps then, we need to discard this way of thinking that frames the past as an ethical struggle between right and wrong and a moral battle between victors and losers. If we cease thinking of our nation's history as a battleground between celebrators and mourners and stop framing our national identity in terms of achievers and those who were not interested in building the nation, then we recognise that these "war" discourses are only the products of "games of truth" invented by governments, expert historians and their institutions. In this way, official texts can produce the possibility for a range of players from new directions to participate in what content can be included as historical truths in Australian stories and what is possible in productions of official Australian identities. The Australian Citizenship Review Committee understood this potential impact as it has recommended "the government commit to reviewing the content of the book at regular intervals given the evolving nature of Australian society" (Australian Citizenship Test Review Committee 25). In disrupting the self-evident notion of a balanced history of facts with its evocation of an equal society and by exposing how governmental institutions have used these texts as instruments of social governance (cf. Bennett), we can come to understand that there are other ways of being Australian and alternative perspectives on Australian history. The production of official histories can work towards producing a "curative science" that heals the fatal impact of the past. The impact of this kind of cultural research should be directed towards the discourse of history wars. In this way, history becomes not a battlefield but "a differential knowledge of energies and failings, heights and degenerations, poisons and antidotes" (Foucault 90) which has the capacity to transform Australian society into a society inclusive of all indigenous, non-indigenous and migrant citizens and which can work towards reconciliation of the nation's history, and perhaps, even of its people. References Allison, Lyn. "Citizenship Test Is the New Aussie Cringe." The Drum. ABC News. 4 Dec. 2011 ‹http://www.abc.net.au/news/2007-09-28/citizenship-test-is-the-new-aussie-cringe/683634›. Andrews, Kevin. "Citizenship Test Resource Released." MediaNet Press Release Wire 26 Aug. 2007: 1. Ashenden, Dean. "Luhrmann, Us, and Them." Inside Story 18 Dec. 2008. 4 Dec. 2011 ‹http://inside.org.au/luhrmann-us-and-them/›. Australian Citizenship Test Review Committee. Moving Forward... Improving Pathways to Citizenship. Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia, 2008. Australian Government. Australian Citizenship: Our Common Bond. Belconnen: National Communications Branch of the Department of Immigration and Citizenship, 2009.Bennett, Tony. Culture: A Reformer's Science. St Leonards: Allen and Unwin, 1998. DIC (Department of Immigration and Citizenship). Becoming an Australian Citizen: Citizenship. Your Commitment to Australia. Canberra, 2007.Foucault, Michel. "Nietzsche, Genealogy, History." The Foucault Reader. New York: Pantheon Books, 1984. 76-100. Grattan, Michelle. "Accept Australian Values or Get Out." The Age 25 Aug. 2005: 1. Hirst, John. "Australia: The Official History." The Monthly 6 Feb. 2008: 28-35. "Howard Defends Citizenship Test." The Age 11 Dec. 2006. Howard, John. "A Sense of Balance: The Australian Achievement in 2006 - Address to the National Press Club, 25 January." PM's News Room: Speeches. Canberra: Department of Prime Minister and Cabinet. Johnson, Carol. "John Howard's 'Values' and Australian Identity." Australian Journal of Political Science 42.2 (2007): 195-209. Konishi, Shino, and Maria Nugent. "Reviewing Indigenous History in Baz Luhrmann's Australia." Inside Story 4 Dec. 2009. 4 Dec. 2011 ‹http://inside.org.au/reviewing-indigenous-history-in-baz-luhrmanns-australia/›. Lake, Marilyn. "Wasn't This a Government Obsessed with Historical 'Truth'?" The Age 29 Oct. 2007: 13. Langton, Marcia. "Faraway Downs Fantasy Resonates Close to Home." Sunday Age 23 November 2008: 12. Nile, Richard. "End of the Culture Wars." Richard Nile Blog. The Australian 28 Nov. 2007. Riley, Mark. "Sorry, But the PM Says the Culture Wars Are Over." Sydney Morning Herald 10 Sep. 2003: 1. Tavan, Gwenda. "Testing Times: The Problem of 'History' in the Howard Government's Australian Citizenship Test." Does History Matter? Making and Debating Citizenship, Immigration and Refugee Policy in Australia and New Zealand. Eds. Neumann, Klaus and Gwenda Tavan. Canberra: ANU E P, 2009. Throsby, David. "A Truce in the Culture Wars." Sydney Morning Herald 26 Apr. 2008: 32. Weeks, Jeffrey. "Foucault for Historians." History Workshop 14 (Autumn 1982): 106-19.

The use of the term authenticity in the social science literature can be rather eclectic at best and unscrupulous at worst. (Vanini, 74)We live in an age of authenticity, according to Charles Taylor, an era which prizes the finding of one’s life “against the demands of external conformity” (67–68). Taylor’s argument is that, correctly practiced, authenticity need not result in individualism or tribalism but rather a generation of people “made more self-responsible” (77).Philip Vanini has surveyed the turn toward authenticity in sociology. He has parsed the word authenticity, and argued that it has been used in three ways—factual, original, and sincere. A failure to attend to these distinctives, mixed with a “paucity of systematic empirical research” has resulted in abstract speculation (75). This article responds to Taylor’s analysis and Vanini’s challenge.My argument utilises Vanini’s theoretical frame—authenticity as factual, original, and sincere—to analyse empirical data gathered in the study of recent religious innovation occurring amongst a set of (“alternative worship”) Christian communities in the United Kingdom. I am drawing upon longitudinal research I have conducted, including participant observation in digital forums from 1997 to the present, along with semi-structured interviews conducted in the United Kingdom in 2001 and 2012.A study of “alternative worship” was deemed significant given such communities’s interaction with contemporary culture, including their use of dance music, multi-media, and social media (Baker, Taylor). Such approaches contrast with other contemporary religious approaches to culture, including a fundamentalist retreat from culture or the maintenance of a “high” culture, and thus inherited patterns of religious expression (Roberts).I argue that the discourse of “alternative worship” deploy authenticity-as-originality as essential to their identity creation. This notion of authenticity is used by these communities to locate themselves culturally (as authentically-original in contemporary cultures), and thus simultaneously to define themselves as marginal from mainstream religious expression.Intriguingly, a decade later, “alternative worship” was appropriated by the mainstream. A new organisation—Fresh Expressions—emerged from within the Church of England, and the Methodist Church in Britain that, as it developed, drew on “alternative worship” for legitimation. A focus on authenticity provides a lens by which to pay particular attention to the narratives offered by social organisations in the processes of innovation. How did the discourse deployed by Fresh Expressions in creating innovation engage “alternative worship” as an existing innovation? How did these “alternative worship” groups, who had found generative energy in their location as an alternative—authentically-original—expression, respond to this appropriation by mainstream religious life?A helpful conversation partner in teasing out the complexity of these moves within contemporary religious innovation is Sarah Thornton. She researched trends in dance clubs, and rave music in Britain, during a similar time period. Thornton highlighted the value of authenticity, which she argued was deployed in club cultures to create “subcultural capital” (98-105). She further explored how the discourses around authenticity were appropriated over time through the complex networks within which popular culture flows (Bennett; Collins; Featherstone; McRobbie; Willis).This article will demonstrate that a similar pattern—using authenticity-as-originality to create “subcultural capital”—was at work in “alternative worship.” Further, the notions of authenticity as factual, original, and sincere are helpful in parsing the complex networks that exist within the domains of religious cultures. This analysis will be two-fold, first as the mainstream appropriates, and second as the “alternative” responds.Thornton emerged “post-Birmingham.” She drew on the scholarship associated with the Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies, glad of their turn toward popular culture. Nevertheless she considered her work to be distinct. Thornton posited the construction of “taste cultures” through distinctions created by those inside a particular set of signs and symbols. She argued for a networked view of society, one that recognised the complex roles of media and commerce in constructing distinctions and sought a more multi-dimensional frame by which to analyse the interplay between mainstream and marginal.In order to structure my investigation, I am suggesting three stages of development capture the priority, yet complexity, of authenticity in contemporary religious innovation: generation, appropriation, complexification.Generation of Authenticity-as-OriginalityThornton (26, italics original) writes:authenticity is arguably the most important value ascribed to popular music … Music is perceived as authentic when it rings true or feels real, when it has credibility and comes across as genuine. In an age of endless representations and global mediation, the experience of musical authenticity is perceived as a cure both for alienation … and dissimulation.Thornton is arguing that in this manifestation of youth culture, authenticity is valued. Further, authenticity is a perception, attached to phrases like “rings true” and “feels real.” Therefore, authenticity is hard to measure. Perhaps this move is deliberate, an attempt by those inside the “taste culture” to preserve their “subcultural capital,”—their particular sets of distinctions.Thornton’s use of authentic slides between authenticity-as-sincerity and authenticity-as-originality. For example, in the above quote, the language of “true” and “real” is a referencing of authenticity-as-sincerity. However, as Thornton analysed the appropriation of club culture by the mainstream, she is drawing, without stating it clearly, on both authenticity-as-sincerity and authenticity-as-originality.At around the time that Thornton was analysing club cultures, a number of Christian religious groups in the United Kingdom began to incorporate features of club culture into their worship services. Churches began to experiment with services beginning at club times (9.00 pm), the playing of dance music, and the use of “video-jockeying.” According to Roberts many of these worshipping communities “had close links to this movement in dance culture” (15).A discourse of authenticity was used to legitimise such innovation. Consider the description of one worship experience, located in Sheffield, England, known as Nine o’Clock Service (Fox 9-10, italics original).We enter a round, darkened room where there are forty-two television sets and twelve large video screens and projections around the walls—projections of dancing DNA, dancing planets and galaxies and atoms … this was a very friendly place for a generation raised on television and images … these people … are doing it themselves and in the center of the city and in the center of their society: at worship itself.This description makes a number of appeals to authenticity. The phrase “a generation raised on television and images” implies another generation not raised in digitally rich environments. A “subcultural” distinction has been created. The phrase “doing it themselves” suggests that this ‘digital generation’ creates something distinct, an authentic expression of their “taste culture.” The celebration of “doing it for themselves” resonates with Charles Taylor’s analysis of an age of authenticity in which self-discovery is connected with artistic creation (62).The Nine o’Clock Service gained nationwide attention, attracting attendances of over 600 young people. Rogerson described it as “a bold and imaginative attempt at contextual theology … people were attracted to it in the first instance for aesthetic and cultural reasons” (51). The priority on the aesthetic and the cultural, in contrast to the doctrinal, suggests a valuing of authenticity-as-originality.Reading Rogerson alongside Taylor teases out a further nuance in regard to the application of authenticity. Rogerson described the Nine o’Clock Service as offering “an alternative way of living in a materialist and acquisitive world” (50). This resonates with Charles Taylor’s argument that authenticity can be practiced in ways that make people “more self-responsible” (77). It suggests that the authenticity-as-originality expressed by the Nine o’Clock Service not only appealed culturally, but also offered an ethic of authenticity. We will return to this later in my argument.Inspired by the Nine o’Clock Service, other groups in the United Kingdom began to offer a similar experience. According to Adrian Riley (6):The Nine O’clock Service … was the first worshipping community to combine elements of club culture with passionate worship … It pioneered what is commonly known as “alternative worship” … Similar groups were established themselves albeit on a smaller scale.The very term “alternative worship” is significant. Sociologist of religion Abby Day argued that “boundary-marking [creates] an identity” (50). Applying Day, the term “alternative” is being used to create an identity in contrast to the existing, mainstream church. The “digitally rich” are indeed “doing it for themselves.” To be “alternative” is to be authentically-original: to be authentically-original means a participant cannot, by definition, be mainstream.Thornton argued that subcultures needed to define themselves against in order to maintain themselves as “hip” (119). This seems to describe the use of the term “alternative.” Ironically, the mainstream is needed, in order to define against, to create identity by being authentically-original (Kelly).Hence the following claim by an “alternative worship” organiser (Interview G, 2001):People were willing to play around and to say, well who knows what will happen if we run this video clip or commercial next to this sixteenth century religious painting and if we play, you know, Black Flag or some weird band underneath it … And what will it feel like? Well let’s try it and see.Note the link with music (Black Flag, an American hard core punk band formed in 1976), so central to Thornton’s understanding of authenticity in popular youth cultures. Note also the similarity between Thornton’s ascribing of value in words like “rings true” and “feels real,” with words like “feel like” and “try and see.” The word “weird” is also significant. It is deployed as a signifier of authenticity, a sign of “subcultural capital.” It positions them as “alternative,” defined in (musical) distinction from the mainstream.In sum, my argument is that authenticity-as-originality is present in “alternative worship”: in the name, in the ethos of “doing it themselves,” and in the deploying of “subcultural capital” in the legitimation of innovation. All of this has been clarified through conversation with Thornton’s empirical research regarding the value of authenticity in club culture. My analysis of “alternative worship” as a religious innovation is consistent with Taylor’s claim that we inhabit an age of authenticity, one that can be practiced by “people who are made more self-responsible” (77).Mainstream AppropriationIn 2004, the Church of England produced Mission Shaped Church (MSC), a report regarding its future. It included a chapter that described recent religious innovation in England, grouped under twelve headings (alternative worship and base ecclesial communities, café, cell, network and seeker church models, multiple and mid week congregations, new forms of traditional churches, school and community-based initiatives, traditional church plants, youth congregations). The first innovation listed is “alternative worship.”The incoming Archbishop, Rowan Williams, drew on MSC to launch a new organisation. Called Fresh Expressions, over five million pounds was provided by the Church of England to fund an organisation to support this religious innovation.Intriguingly, recognition of authenticity in these “alternative” innovations was evident in the institutional discourse being created. When I interviewed Williams, he spoke of his commitment as a Bishop (Interview 6, 2012):I decided to spend a certain amount of quality time with people on the edge. Consequently when I was asked initially what are my priorities [as Archbishop] I said, “Well, this is what I’ve been watching on the edge … I really want to see how that could impact on the Church of England as a whole.In other words, what was marginal, what had until then generated identity by being authentic in contrast to the mainstream, was now being appropriated by the mainstream “to impact on the Church of England as a whole.” MSC was aware of this complexity. “Alternative worship” was described as containing “a strong desire to be different and is most vocal in its repudiation of existing church” (45). Nevertheless, it was appropriated by the mainstream.My argument has been that “alternative worship” drew on a discourse of authenticity-as-originality. Yet when we turn to analyse mainstream appropriation, we find the definitions of authenticity begin to slide. Authenticity-as-originality is affirmed, while authenticity-as-sincerity is introduced. The MSC affirmed the “ways in which the Church of England has sought to engage with the diverse cultures and networks that are part of contemporary life” (80). It made explicit the connection between originality and authenticity. “Some pioneers and leaders have yearned for a more authentic way of living, being, doing church” (80). This can be read as an affirmation of authenticity-as-originality.Yet MSC also introduced authenticity-as-sincerity as a caution to authenticity-as-originality. “Fresh expressions should not be embraced simply because they are popular and new, but because they are a sign of the work of God and of the kingdom” (80). Thus Fresh Expressions introduced authenticity-as-sincerity (sign of the work of God) and placed it alongside authenticity-as-originality. In so doing, in the shift from “alternative worship” to Fresh Expressions, a space is both conflated (twelve expressions of church) and contested (two notions of authenticity). Conflated, because MSC places alternative worship as one innovation alongside eleven others. Contested because of the introduction of authenticity-as-sincerity alongside the affirming of authenticity-as-originality. What is intriguing is to return to Taylor’s argument for the possibility of an ethic of authenticity in which “people are made more self-responsible” (77). Perhaps the response in MSC arises from the concern described by Taylor, the risk in an age of authenticity of a society that is more individualised and tribal (55-6). To put it in distinctly ecclesiological terms, how can the church as one, holy, catholic and apostolic be carried forward if authenticity-as-originality is celebrated at, and by, the margins? Does innovation contribute to more atomised, self-absorbed and fragmented expressions of church?Yet Taylor is adamant that authenticity can be embraced without an inevitable slide in these directions. He argued that humans share a "horizon of significance" in common (52), in which one’s own "identity crucially depends on [one’s] dialogical relations with others" (48). We have already considered Rogerson’s claim that the Nine o’Clock Service offered “an alternative way of living in a materialist and acquisitive world” (50). It embraced a “strong political dimension, and a concern for justice at local and international level” (46). In other words, “alternative worship’s” authenticity-as-originality was surely already an expression of “the kingdom,” one in which “people [were] made more self-responsible” (77) in the sharing of (drawing on Taylor) a "horizon of significance" in the task of identity-formation-in-relationships (52).Yet the placing in MSC of authenticity-as-sincerity alongside authenticity-as-originality could easily have been read by those in “alternative worship” as a failure to recognise their existing practicing of the ethic of authenticity, their embodying of “the kingdom.”Consequent ComplexificationMy research into “alternative worship” is longitudinal. After the launch of Fresh Expressions, I included a new set of interview questions, which sought to clarify how these “alternative worship” communities were impacted upon by the appropriation of “alternative worship” by the mainstream. The responses can be grouped into three categories: minimal impact, a sense of affirmation and a contested complexity.With regard to minimal impact, some “alternative worship” communities perceived the arrival of Fresh Expressions had minimal impact on their shared expression of faith. The following quote was representative: “Has had no impact at all actually. Apart from to be slightly puzzled” (Interview 3, 2012).Others found the advent of Fresh Expressions provided a sense of affirmation. “Fresh expressions is … an enabling concept. It was very powerful” (Focus group 2, 2012). Respondents in this category felt that their innovations within alternative worship had contributed to, or been valued by, the innovation of Fresh Expressions. Interestingly, those whose comments could be grouped in this category had significant “subcultural capital” invested in this mainstream appropriation. Specifically, they now had a vocational role that in some way was connected to Fresh Expressions. In using the term “subcultural capital” I am again drawing on Thornton (98–105), who argued that in the complex networks through which culture flows, certain people, for example DJ’s, have more influence in the ascribing of authenticity. This suggests that “subcultural” capital is also present in religious innovation, with certain individuals finding ways to influence, from the “alternative worship” margin, the narratives of authenticity used in the complex interplay between alternative worship and Fresh Expressions.For others the arrival of Fresh Expressions had resulted in a contested complexity. The following quote was representative: “It’s a crap piece of establishment branding …but then we’re just snobs” (Focus group 3, 2012). This comment returns us to my initial framing of authenticity-as-originality. I would argue that “we’re just snobs” has a similar rhetorical effect as “Black Flag or some weird band.” It is an act of marginal self-location essential in the construction of innovation and identity.This argument is strengthened given the fact that the comment was coming from a community that itself had become perhaps the most recognizable “brand” among “alternative worship.” They have developed their own logo, website, and related online merchandising. This would suggest the concern is not the practice of marketing per se. Rather the concern is that it seems “crap” in relation to authenticity-as-originality, in a loss of aesthetic quality and a blurring of the values of innovation and identity as it related to bold, imaginative, aesthetic, and cultural attempts at contextual theology (Rogerson 51).Returning to Thornton, her research was also longitudinal in that she explored what happened when a song from a club, which had defined itself against the mainstream and as “hip,” suddenly experienced mainstream success (119). What is relevant to this investigation into religious innovation is her argument that in club culture, “selling out” is perceived to have happened only when the marginal community “loses its sense of possession, exclusive ownership and familiar belonging” (124–26).I would suggest that this is what is happening within “alternative worship” in response to the arrival of Fresh Expressions. Both “alternative worship” and Fresh Expressions are religious innovations. But Fresh Expressions defined itself in a way that conflated the space. It meant that the boundary marking so essential to “alternative worship” was lost. Some gained from this. Others struggled with a loss of imaginative and cultural creativity, a softening of authenticity-as-originality.More importantly, the discourse around Fresh Expressions also introduced authenticity-as-sincerity as a value that could be used to contest authenticity-as-originality. Whether intended or not, this also challenged the ethic of authenticity already created by these “alternative worship” communities. Their authenticity-as-originality was already a practicing of an ethic of authenticity. They were already sharing a "horizon of significance" with humanity, entering into “dialogical relations with others" that were a contemporary expression of the church as one, holy, catholic and apostolic (Taylor 52, 48). ConclusionIn this article I have analysed the discourse around authenticity as it is manifest within one strand of contemporary religious innovation. Drawing on Vanini, Taylor, and Thornton, I have explored the generative possibilities as media and culture are utilised in an “alternative worship” that is authentically-original. I have outlined the consequences when authenticity-as-originality is appropriated by the mainstream, specifically in the innovation known as Fresh Expressions and the complexity when authenticity-as-sincerity is introduced as a contested value.The value of authenticity has been found to exist in a complex relationship with the ethics of authenticity within one domain of contemporary religious innovation.ReferencesBaker, Jonny. “Alternative Worship and the Significance of Popular Culture.” Honours paper: U of London, 2000.Bennett, Andy. Popular Music and Youth Culture: Music, Identity, and Place. 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The Rise and Fall of the Nine o’Clock Service. London: Continuum, 1996.Kelly, Gerard. Get a Grip on the Future without Losing Your Hold in the Past. Great Britain: Monarch, 1999.Kelly, Steven. “Book Review. Alt.Culture by Steven Daly and Nathaniel Wice.” 20 Aug. 2003. ‹http://www.richmondreview.co.uk/books/cult.html›.McRobbie, Angela. Postmodernism and Popular Culture. London: Routledge, 1994.Riley, Adrian. God in the House: UK Club Culture and Spirituality. 1999. 15 Oct. 2003 ‹http://www.btmc.org.auk/altworship/house/›.Roberts, Paul. Alternative Worship in the Church of England. Cambridge: Grove Books, 1999.Rogerson, J. W. “‘The Lord Is here’: The Nine o’Clock Service.” Why Liberal Churches Are Growing. Eds. Ian Markham and Martyn Percy. London: Bloomsbury T & T, 2006. 45-52.Taylor, Charles. The Ethics of Authenticity. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1992.Taylor, Steve. “Baptist Worship and Contemporary Culture: A New Zealand Case Study.” Interfaces: Baptists and Others. Eds. David Bebbington and Martin Sutherland. Carlisle: Paternoster, 2013. 292-307.Thornton, Sarah. Club Cultures. Music, Media and Subcultural Capital. Hanover: UP New England, 1996.Vanini, Philip. “Authenticity.” Encyclopedia of Consumer Culture. Ed. Dale Southerton. Los Angeles: Sage, 2011. 74-76.Willis, Paul E., et al. Common Culture. Symbolic Work at Play in the Everyday Cultures of the Young. Milton Keynes: Open UP, 1990.

One of the first challenges faced by new Australian Prime Minister, Kevin Rudd, was what to do with the former government’s controversial citizenship test. While a quick evaluation of the test shows that 93 percent of those who have sat it ‘passed’ (Hoare), most media controversy has focussed less on the validity of such a test than whether questions relating to Australian cricketing legend, Don Bradman, are appropriate (Hawley). While the citizenship test seems nothing more that a crude and populist measure imposed by the former Howard government in its ongoing nationalistic agenda, which included paying schools to raise the Australian flag (“PM Unfurls Flag”), its imposition seems a timely reminder of the challenge of understanding citizenship today. For as the demographic structures around us continue to change, so must our understandings of ‘citizenship’. More importantly, this fluid understanding of citizenship is not limited to academics, and policy-makers, but new technologies, the processes of globalisation including a globalised media, changing demographic patterns including migration, as well as environmental challenges that place pressure on limited resources is altering the citizens understanding of their own role as well as those around them. This paper aims to sketch out a proposed new research agenda that seeks to investigate this fluid and heterogenous nature of citizenship. The focus of the research has so far been Sydney and is enveloped by a broader aim of promoting an increased level of citizen engagement both within formal and informal political structures. I begin by sketching the complex nature of Sydney before presenting some initial research findings. Sydney – A Complex City The so-called ‘emerald city’ of Sydney has been described in many ways: from a ‘global’ city (Fagan, Dowling and Longdale 1) to an ‘angry’ city (Price 16). Sarah Price’s investigative article included research from the University of Western Sydney’s Centre of Culture Research, the Bureau of Crime Statistics and interviews with Tony Grabs, the director of trauma at St Vincent’s Hospital in inner city Darlinghurst. Price found that both injuries from alcohol and drug-related violence had risen dramatically over the last few years and seemed to be driven by increasing frustrations of a city that is perceived to be lacking appropriate infrastructure and rising levels of personal and household debt. Sydney’s famous harbour and postcard landmarks are surrounded by places of controversy and poverty, with residents of very backgrounds living in close proximity: often harmoniously and sometimes less so. According to recent research by Griffith University’s Urban Research Program, the city is becoming increasingly polarised, with the wealthiest enjoying high levels of access to amenities while other sections of the population experiencing increasing deprivation (Frew 7). Sydney is often segmented into different regions: the growth corridors of the western suburbs which include the ‘Aspirational class’; the affluent eastern suburb; the southern beachside suburbs surrounding Cronulla affectionately known by local residents as ‘the Shire’, and so on. This, however, hides that fact that these areas are themselves complex and heterogenous in character (Frew 7). As a result, the many clichés associated with such segments lead to an over simplification of regional characteristics. The ‘growth corridors’ of Western Sydney, for example, have, in recent times, become a focal point of political and social commentary. From the rise of the ‘Aspirational’ voter (Anderson), seen to be a key ‘powerbroker’ in federal and state politics, to growing levels of disenfranchised young people, this region is multifaceted and should not be simplified. These areas often see large-scale, private housing estates; what Brendan Gleeson describes as ‘privatopias’, situated next to rising levels of homelessness (“What’s Driving”): a powerful and concerning image that should not escape our attention. (Chamberlain and Mackenzie pay due attention to the issue in Homeless Careers.) It is also home to a growing immigrant population who often arrive as business migrants and as well as a rising refugee population traumatised by war and displacement (Collins 1). These growth corridors then, seem to simultaneously capture both the ambitions and the fears of Sydney. That is, they are seen as both areas of potential economic boom as well as social stress and potential conflict (Gleeson 89). One way to comprehend the complexity associated with such diversity and change is to reflect on the proximity of the twin suburbs of Macquarie Links and Macquarie Fields situated in Sydney’s south-western suburbs. Separated by the clichéd ‘railway tracks’, one is home to the growing Aspirational class while the other continues to be plagued by the stigma of being, what David Burchell describes as, a ‘dysfunctional dumping ground’ whose plight became national headlines during the riots in 2005. The riots were sparked after a police chase involving a stolen car led to a crash and the death of a 17 year-old and 19 year-old passengers. Residents blamed police for the deaths and the subsequent riots lasted for four nights – involving 150 teenagers clashing with New South Wales Police. The dysfunction, Burchell notes is seen in crime statistics that include 114 stolen cars, 227 burglaries, 457 cases of property damage and 279 assaults – all in 2005 alone. Interestingly, both these populations are surrounded by exclusionary boundaries: one because of the financial demands to enter the ‘Links’ estate, and the other because of the self-imposed exclusion. Such disparities not only provide challenges for policy makers generally, but also have important implications on the attitudes that citizens’ experience towards their relationship with each other as well as the civic institutions that are meant to represent them. This is particular the case if civic institutions are seen to either neglect or favour certain groups. This, in part, has given rise to what I describe here as a ‘citizenship surplus’ as well as a ‘citizenship deficit’. Research Agenda: Investigating Citizenship Surpluses and Deficits This changing city has meant that there has also been a change in the way that different groups interact with, and perceive, civic bodies. As noted, my initial research shows that this has led to the emergence of both citizenship surpluses and deficits. Though the concept of a ‘citizen deficits and surpluses’ have not emerged within the broader literature, there is a wide range of literature that discusses how some sections of the population lack of access to democratic processes. There are three broad areas of research that have emerged relevant here: citizenship and young people (see Arvanitakis; Dee); citizenship and globalisation (see Della Porta; Pusey); and citizenship and immigration (see Baldassar et al.; Gow). While a discussion of each of these research areas is beyond the scope of this paper, a regular theme is the emergence of a ‘democratic deficit’ (Chari et al. 422). Dee, for example, looks at how there exist unequal relationships between local and central governments, young people, communities and property developers in relation to space. Dee argues that this shapes social policy in a range of settings and contexts including their relationship with broader civic institutions and understandings of citizenship. Dee finds that claims for land use that involve young people rarely succeed and there is limited, if any, recourse to civic institutions. As such, we see a democratic deficit emerge because the various civic institutions involved fail in meeting their obligations to citizens. In addition, a great deal of work has emerged that investigates attempts to re-engage citizens through mechanisms to promote citizenship education and a more active citizenship which has also been accompanied by government programs with the same goals (See for example the Western Australian government’s ‘Citizenscape’ program ). For example Hahn (231) undertakes a comparative study of civic education in six countries (including Australia) and the policies and practices with respect to citizenship education and how to promote citizen activism. The results are positive, though the research was undertaken before the tumultuous events of the terrorist attacks in New York, the emergence of the ‘war on terror’ and the rise of ‘Muslim-phobia’. A gap rises, however, within the Australian literature when we consider both the fluid and heterogenous nature of citizenship. That is, how do we understand the relationship between these diverse groups living within such proximity to each other overlayed by changing migration patterns, ongoing globalised processes and changing political environments as well as their relations to civic institutions? Further, how does this influence the way individuals perceive their rights, expectations and responsibilities to the state? Given this, I believe that there is a need to understand citizenship as a fluid and heterogenous phenomenon that can be in surplus, deficit, progressive and reactionary. When discussing citizenship I am interested in how people perceive both their rights and responsibilities to civic institutions as well as to the residents around them. A second, obviously related, area of interest is ‘civic engagement’: that is, “the activities of people in the various organisations and associations that make up what scholars call ‘civil society’” (Portney and Leary 4). Before describing these categories in more detail, I would like to briefly outline the methodological processes employed thus far. Much of the research to this point is based on a combination of established literature, my informal discussions with citizen groups and my observations as ‘an activist.’ That is, over the last few years I have worked with a broad cross section of community-based organisations as well as specific individuals that have attempted to confront perceived injustices. I have undertaken this work as both an activist – with organisations such as Aid/Watch and Oxfam Australia – as well as an academic invited to share my research. This work has involved designing and implementing policy and advocacy strategies including media and public education programs. All interactions begin with a detailed discussion of the aims, resources, abilities and knowledge of the groups involved, followed by workshopping campaigning strategies. This has led to the publication of an ‘activist handbook’ titled ‘From Sitting on the Couch to Changing the World’, which is used to both draft the campaign aims as well as design a systematic strategy. (The booklet, which is currently being re-drafted, is published by Oxfam Australia and registered under a creative commons licence. For those interested, copies are available by emailing j.arvanitakis (at) uws.edu.au.) Much research is also sourced from direct feedback given by participants in reviewing the workshops and strategies The aim of tis paper then, is to sketch out the initial findings as well as an agenda for more formalised research. The initial findings have identified the heterogenous nature of citizenship that I have separated into four ‘citizenship spaces.’ The term space is used because these are not stable groupings as many quickly move between the areas identified as both the structures and personal situations change. 1. Marginalisation and Citizenship Deficit The first category is a citizenship deficit brought on by a sense of marginalisation. This is determined by a belief that it is pointless to interact with civic institutions, as the result is always the same: people’s opinions and needs will be ignored. Or in the case of residents from areas such as Macquarie Fields, the relationship with civic institutions, including police, is antagonistic and best avoided (White par. 21). This means that there is no connection between the population and the civic institutions around them – there is no loyalty or belief that efforts to be involved in political and civic processes will be rewarded. Here groups sense that they do not have access to political avenues to be heard, represented or demand change. This is leading to an experience of disconnection from political processes. The result is both a sense of disengagement and disempowerment. One example here emerged in discussions with protesters around the proposed development of the former Australian Defence Industry (ADI) site in St Marys, an outer-western suburb of Sydney. The development, which was largely approved, was for a large-scale housing estate proposed on sensitive bushlands in a locality that resident’s note is under-serviced in terms of public space. (For details of these discussions, see http://www.adisite.org/.) Residents often took the attitude that whatever the desire of the local community, the development would go ahead regardless. Those who worked at information booths during the resident protests informed me that the attitude was one best summarised by: “Why bother, we always get stuffed around any way.” This was confirmed by my own discussions with local residents – even those who joined the resident action group. 2. Privatisation and Citizenship Deficit This citizenship deficit not only applies to the marginalised, however, for there are also much wealthier populations who also appear to experience a deficit that results from a lack of access to civic institutions. This tends to leads to a privatisation of decision-making and withdrawal from the public arena as well as democratic processes. Consequently, the residents in the pockets of wealth may not be acting as citizens but more like consumers – asserting themselves in terms of Castells’s ‘collective consumption’ (par. 25). This citizenship deficit is brought on by ongoing privatisation. That is, there is a belief that civic institutions (including government bodies) are unable or at least unwilling to service the local community. As a result there is a tendency to turn to private suppliers and believe that individualisation is the best way to manage the community. The result is that citizens feel no connection to the civic institutions around them, not because there is no desire, but there are no services. This group of citizens has often been described as the ‘Aspirationals’ and are most often found in the growth corridors of Sydney. There is no reason to believe that this group is this way because of choice – but rather a failure by government authorities to service their needs. This is confirmed by research undertaken as early as 1990 which found that the residents now labelled Aspirational, were demanding access to public infrastructure services including public schools, but have been neglected by different levels of government. (This was clearly stated by NSW Labor MP for Liverpool, Paul Lynch, who argued for such services as a way to ensure a functioning community particularly for Western Sydney; NSWPD 2001.) As a result there is a reliance on private schools, neighbourhoods, transport and so on. Any ‘why bother’ attitude is thus driven by a lack of evidence that civic institutions can or are not willing to meet their needs. There is a strong sense of local community – but this localisation limited to others in the same geographical location and similar lifestyle. 3. Citizenship Surplus – Empowered Not Engaged The third space of citizenship is based on a ‘surplus’ even if there is limited or no political engagement. This group has quite a lot in common with the ‘Aspirationals’ but may come from areas that are higher serviced by civic institutions: the choice not to engage is therefore voluntary. There is a strong push for self-sufficiency – believing that their social capital, wealth and status mean that they do not require the services of civic institutions. While not antagonistic towards such institutions, there is often a belief is that the services provided by the private sector are ultimately superior to public ones. Consequently, they feel empowered through their social background but are not engaged with civic institutions or the political process. Despite this, my initial research findings show that this group has a strong connection to decision-makers – both politicians and bureaucrats. This lack of engagement changes if there is a perceived injustice to their quality of life or their values system – and hence should not be dismissed as NIMBYs (not in my backyard). They believe they have the resources to mobilise and demand change. I believe that we see this group materialise in mobilisations around proposed developments that threaten the perceived quality of life of the local environment. One example brought to my attention was the rapid response of local residents to the proposed White City development near Sydney’s eastern suburbs that was to see tennis courts and public space replaced by residential and commercial buildings (Nicholls). As one resident informed me, she had never seen any political engagement by local residents previously – an engagement that was accompanied by a belief that the development would be stopped as well as a mobilisation of some impressive resources. Such mobilisations also occur when there is a perceived injustice. Examples of this group can be found in what Hugh Mackay (13) describes as ‘doctor’s wives’ (a term that I am not wholly comfortable with). Here we see the emergence of ‘Chilout’: Children out of Detention. This was an organisation whose membership was described to me as ‘north shore professionals’, drew heavily on those who believed the forced incarceration of young refugee children was an affront to their values system. 4. Insurgent Citizenship – Empowered and Engaged The final space is the insurgent citizen: that is, the citizen who is both engaged and empowered. This is a term borrowed from South Africa and the USA (Holston 1) – and it should be seen as having two, almost diametrically opposed, sides: progressive and reactionary. This group may not have access to a great deal of financial resources, but has high social capital and both a willingness and ability to engage in political processes. Consequently, there is a sense of empowerment and engagement with civic institutions. There is also a strong push for self-sufficiency – but this is encased in a belief that civic institutions have a responsibility to provide services to the public, and that some services are naturally better provided by the public sector. Despite this, there is often an antagonistic relationship with such institutions. From the progressive perspective, we see ‘activists’ promoting social justice issues (including students, academics, unionists and so on). Organisations such as A Just Australia are strongly supported by various student organisations, unions and other social justice and activist groups. From a reactionary perspective, we see the emergence of groups that take an anti-immigration stance (such as ‘anti-immigration’ groups including Australia First that draw both activists and have an established political party). (Information regarding ‘anti-refugee activists’ can be found at http://ausfirst.alphalink.com.au/ while the official website for the Australia First political part is at http://www.australiafirstparty.com.au/cms/.) One way to understand the relationship between these groups is through the engagement/empowered typology below. While a detailed discussion of the limitations of typologies is beyond the scope of this paper, it is important to acknowledge that any typology is a simplification and generalisation of the arguments presented. Likewise, it is unlikely that any typology has the ability to cover all cases and situations. This typology can, however, be used to underscore the relational nature of citizenship. The purpose here is to highlight that there are relationships between the different citizenship spaces and individuals can move between groups and each cluster has significant internal variation. Key here is that this can frame future studies. Conclusion and Next Steps There is little doubt there is a relationship between attitudes to citizenship and the health of a democracy. In Australia, democracy is robust in some ways, but many feel disempowered, disengaged and some feel both – often believing they are remote from the workings of civic institutions. It would appear that for many, interest in the process of (formal) government is at an all-time low as reflected in declining membership of political parties (Jaensch et al. 58). Democracy is not a ‘once for ever’ achievement – it needs to be protected and promoted. To do this, we must ensure that there are avenues for representation for all. This point also highlights one of the fundamental flaws of the aforementioned citizenship test. According to the Department of Immigration and Citizenship, the test is designed to: help migrants integrate and maximise the opportunities available to them in Australia, and enable their full participation in the Australian community as citizens. (par. 4) Those designing the test have assumed that citizenship is both stable and, once achieved, automatically ensures representation. This paper directly challenges these assumptions and offers an alternative research agenda with the ultimate aim of promoting high levels of engagement and empowerment. References Anderson, A. “The Liberals Have Not Betrayed the Menzies Legacy.” Online Opinion 25 Oct. 2004. < http://www.onlineopinion.com.au/view.asp?article=2679 >. Arvanitakis, J. “Highly Affected, Rarely Considered: The International Youth Parliament Commission’s Report on the Impacts of Globalisation on Young People.” Sydney: Oxfam Australia, 2003. Baldassar, L., Z. Kamalkhani, and C. Lange. “Afghan Hazara Refugees in Australia: Constructing Australian Citizens.” Social Identities 13.1 (2007): 31-50. Burchell, D. “Dysfunctional Dumping Grounds.” The Australian 10 Feb. 2007. < http://www.theaustralian.news.com.au/story/0,20867,21199266-28737,00.html >. Burnley, I.H. The Impact of Immigration in Australia: A Demographic Approach. Melbourne: Oxford UP, 2001. Castells, M. “European Cities, the Informational Society, and the Global Economy.” New Left Review I/204 (March-April 1994): 46-57. Chamberlain, C., and D. Mackenzie. Homeless Careers: Pathways in and out of Homelessness. Melbourne: RMIT University, 2002. Chari, R., J. Hogan, and G. Murphy. “Regulating Lobbyists: A Comparative Analysis of the United States, Canada, Germany and the European Union.” The Political Quarterly 78.3 (2007): 423-438. Collins, J. “Chinese Entrepreneurs: The Chinese Diaspora in Australia.” International Journal of Entrepreneurial Behaviour & Research 8.1/2 (2002): 113-133. Dee, M. “Young People, Citizenship and Public Space.” International Sociological Association Conference Paper, Brisbane, 2002. Della Porta, D. “Globalisations and Democracy.” Democratizations 12.5 (2005): 668-685. Fagan, B., R. Dowling, and J. Longdale. “Suburbs in the ‘Global City’: Sydney since the Mid 1990s.” State of Australian cities conference. Parramatta, 2003. Frew, W. “And the Most Polarised City Is…” Sydney Morning Herald 16-17 Feb. 2008: 7. Gleeson, B. Australian Heartlands: Making Space for Hope in the Suburbs. Crows Nest: Allen and Unwin, 2006. Gleeson, B. “What’s Driving Suburban Australia?” Australian Policy Online 15 Jan. 2004. < http://www.apo.org.au/webboard/results.chtml?filename_num=00558 >. Gow, G. “Rubbing Shoulders in the Global City: Refugees, Citizenship and Multicultural Alliances in Fairfield, Sydney.” Ethnicities 5.3 (2005): 386-405. Hahn, C. L. “Citizenship Education: An Empirical Study of Policy, Practices and Outcomes.” Oxford Review of Education 25.1/2 (1999): 231-250. Hawley, S. “Sir Donald Bradman Likely to Be Dumped from Citizenship Test.” ABC Local Radio Online. 29 Jan. 2008. < http://www.abc.net.au/am/content/2007/s2148383.htm >. Hoare, D. “Bradman’s Spot in Citizenship Test under Scrutiny.” ABC Local Radio online. 29 Jan. 2008. < http://www.abc.net.au/pm/content/2008/s2149325.htm >. Holston, J. Insurgent Citizenship: Disjunctions of Democracy and Modernity in Brazil. California: Cloth, 2007. Jaensch, D., P. Brent, and B. Bowden. “Australian Political Parties in the Spotlight.” Democratic Audit of Australia Report 4. Australian National University, 2004. Mackay, H. “Sleepers Awoke from Slumber of Indifference.” Sydney Morning Herald 27 Nov. 2007: 13. NSWPD – New South Wales Parliamentary Debates. “South Western Sydney Banking Services.” Legislative Assembly Hansard, 52nd NSW Parliament, 19 Sep. 2001. Portney, K.E., and L. O’Leary. Civic and Political Engagement of America’s Youth: National Survey of Civic and Political Engagement of Young People. Medford, MA: Tisch College, Tufts University, 2007. Price, S. “Stress and Debt Make Sydney a Violent City.” Sydney Morning Herald 13 Jan. 2008: 16. Pusey, M. The Experience of Middle Australia: The Dark Side of Economic Reform. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2003. White, R. “Swarming and the Social Dynamics of Group Violence.” Trends and Issues in Crime and Criminal Justice 326 (Oct. 2006). < http://www.aic.gov.au/publications/tandi2/tandi326t.html >. Wolfe, P. “Race and Citizenship.” Magazine of History 18.5 (2004): 66-72.

Introduction One of the first challenges faced by new Australian Prime Minister, Kevin Rudd, was what to do with the former government’s controversial citizenship test. While a quick evaluation of the test shows that 93 percent of those who have sat it ‘passed’ (Hoare), most media controversy has focussed less on the validity of such a test than whether questions relating to Australian cricketing legend, Don Bradman, are appropriate (Hawley). While the citizenship test seems nothing more that a crude and populist measure imposed by the former Howard government in its ongoing nationalistic agenda, which included paying schools to raise the Australian flag (“PM Unfurls Flag”), its imposition seems a timely reminder of the challenge of understanding citizenship today. For as the demographic structures around us continue to change, so must our understandings of ‘citizenship’. More importantly, this fluid understanding of citizenship is not limited to academics, and policy-makers, but new technologies, the processes of globalisation including a globalised media, changing demographic patterns including migration, as well as environmental challenges that place pressure on limited resources is altering the citizens understanding of their own role as well as those around them. This paper aims to sketch out a proposed new research agenda that seeks to investigate this fluid and heterogenous nature of citizenship. The focus of the research has so far been Sydney and is enveloped by a broader aim of promoting an increased level of citizen engagement both within formal and informal political structures. I begin by sketching the complex nature of Sydney before presenting some initial research findings. Sydney – A Complex City The so-called ‘emerald city’ of Sydney has been described in many ways: from a ‘global’ city (Fagan, Dowling and Longdale 1) to an ‘angry’ city (Price 16). Sarah Price’s investigative article included research from the University of Western Sydney’s Centre of Culture Research, the Bureau of Crime Statistics and interviews with Tony Grabs, the director of trauma at St Vincent’s Hospital in inner city Darlinghurst. Price found that both injuries from alcohol and drug-related violence had risen dramatically over the last few years and seemed to be driven by increasing frustrations of a city that is perceived to be lacking appropriate infrastructure and rising levels of personal and household debt. Sydney’s famous harbour and postcard landmarks are surrounded by places of controversy and poverty, with residents of very backgrounds living in close proximity: often harmoniously and sometimes less so. According to recent research by Griffith University’s Urban Research Program, the city is becoming increasingly polarised, with the wealthiest enjoying high levels of access to amenities while other sections of the population experiencing increasing deprivation (Frew 7). Sydney, is often segmented into different regions: the growth corridors of the western suburbs which include the ‘Aspirational class’; the affluent eastern suburb; the southern beachside suburbs surrounding Cronulla affectionately known by local residents as ‘the Shire’, and so on. This, however, hides that fact that these areas are themselves complex and heterogenous in character (Frew 7). As a result, the many clichés associated with such segments lead to an over simplification of regional characteristics. The ‘growth corridors’ of Western Sydney, for example, have, in recent times, become a focal point of political and social commentary. From the rise of the ‘Aspirational’ voter (Anderson), seen to be a key ‘powerbroker’ in federal and state politics, to growing levels of disenfranchised young people, this region is multifaceted and should not be simplified. These areas often see large-scale, private housing estates; what Brendan Gleeson describes as ‘privatopias’, situated next to rising levels of homelessness (“What’s Driving”): a powerful and concerning image that should not escape our attention. (Chamberlain and Mackenzie pay due attention to the issue in Homeless Careers.) It is also home to a growing immigrant population who often arrive as business migrants and as well as a rising refugee population traumatised by war and displacement (Collins 1). These growth corridors then, seem to simultaneously capture both the ambitions and the fears of Sydney. That is, they are seen as both areas of potential economic boom as well as social stress and potential conflict (Gleeson 89). One way to comprehend the complexity associated with such diversity and change is to reflect on the proximity of the twin suburbs of Macquarie Links and Macquarie Fields situated in Sydney’s south-western suburbs. Separated by the clichéd ‘railway tracks’, one is home to the growing Aspirational class while the other continues to be plagued by the stigma of being, what David Burchell describes as, a ‘dysfunctional dumping ground’ whose plight became national headlines during the riots in 2005. The riots were sparked after a police chase involving a stolen car led to a crash and the death of a 17 year-old and 19 year-old passengers. Residents blamed police for the deaths and the subsequent riots lasted for four nights – involving 150 teenagers clashing with New South Wales Police. The dysfunction, Burchell notes is seen in crime statistics that include 114 stolen cars, 227 burglaries, 457 cases of property damage and 279 assaults – all in 2005 alone. Interestingly, both these populations are surrounded by exclusionary boundaries: one because of the financial demands to enter the ‘Links’ estate, and the other because of the self-imposed exclusion. Such disparities not only provide challenges for policy makers generally, but also have important implications on the attitudes that citizens’ experience towards their relationship with each other as well as the civic institutions that are meant to represent them. This is particular the case if civic institutions are seen to either neglect or favour certain groups. This, in part, has given rise to what I describe here as a ‘citizenship surplus’ as well as a ‘citizenship deficit’. Research Agenda: Investigating Citizenship Surpluses and Deficits This changing city has meant that there has also been a change in the way that different groups interact with, and perceive, civic bodies. As noted, my initial research shows that this has led to the emergence of both citizenship surpluses and deficits. Though the concept of a ‘citizen deficits and surpluses’ have not emerged within the broader literature, there is a wide range of literature that discusses how some sections of the population lack of access to democratic processes. There are three broad areas of research that have emerged relevant here: citizenship and young people (see Arvanitakis; Dee); citizenship and globalisation (see Della Porta; Pusey); and citizenship and immigration (see Baldassar et al.; Gow). While a discussion of each of these research areas is beyond the scope of this paper, a regular theme is the emergence of a ‘democratic deficit’ (Chari et al. 422). Dee, for example, looks at how there exist unequal relationships between local and central governments, young people, communities and property developers in relation to space. Dee argues that this shapes social policy in a range of settings and contexts including their relationship with broader civic institutions and understandings of citizenship. Dee finds that claims for land use that involve young people rarely succeed and there is limited, if any, recourse to civic institutions. As such, we see a democratic deficit emerge because the various civic institutions involved fail in meeting their obligations to citizens. In addition, a great deal of work has emerged that investigates attempts to re-engage citizens through mechanisms to promote citizenship education and a more active citizenship which has also been accompanied by government programs with the same goals (See for example the Western Australian government’s ‘Citizenscape’ program ). For example Hahn (231) undertakes a comparative study of civic education in six countries (including Australia) and the policies and practices with respect to citizenship education and how to promote citizen activism. The results are positive, though the research was undertaken before the tumultuous events of the terrorist attacks in New York, the emergence of the ‘war on terror’ and the rise of ‘Muslim-phobia’. A gap rises, however, within the Australian literature when we consider both the fluid and heterogenous nature of citizenship. That is, how do we understand the relationship between these diverse groups living within such proximity to each other overlayed by changing migration patterns, ongoing globalised processes and changing political environments as well as their relations to civic institutions? Further, how does this influence the way individuals perceive their rights, expectations and responsibilities to the state? Given this, I believe that there is a need to understand citizenship as a fluid and heterogenous phenomenon that can be in surplus, deficit, progressive and reactionary. When discussing citizenship I am interested in how people perceive both their rights and responsibilities to civic institutions as well as to the residents around them. A second, obviously related, area of interest is ‘civic engagement’: that is, “the activities of people in the various organisations and associations that make up what scholars call ‘civil society’” (Portney and Leary 4). Before describing these categories in more detail, I would like to briefly outline the methodological processes employed thus far. Much of the research to this point is based on a combination of established literature, my informal discussions with citizen groups and my observations as ‘an activist.’ That is, over the last few years I have worked with a broad cross section of community-based organisations as well as specific individuals that have attempted to confront perceived injustices. I have undertaken this work as both an activist – with organisations such as Aid/Watch and Oxfam Australia – as well as an academic invited to share my research. This work has involved designing and implementing policy and advocacy strategies including media and public education programs. All interactions begin with a detailed discussion of the aims, resources, abilities and knowledge of the groups involved, followed by workshopping campaigning strategies. This has led to the publication of an ‘activist handbook’ titled ‘From Sitting on the Couch to Changing the World’, which is used to both draft the campaign aims as well as design a systematic strategy. (The booklet, which is currently being re-drafted, is published by Oxfam Australia and registered under a creative commons licence. For those interested, copies are available by emailing j.arvanitakis (at) uws.edu.au.) Much research is also sourced from direct feedback given by participants in reviewing the workshops and strategies The aim of tis paper then, is to sketch out the initial findings as well as an agenda for more formalised research. The initial findings have identified the heterogenous nature of citizenship that I have separated into four ‘citizenship spaces.’ The term space is used because these are not stable groupings as many quickly move between the areas identified as both the structures and personal situations change. 1. Marginalisation and Citizenship Deficit The first category is a citizenship deficit brought on by a sense of marginalisation. This is determined by a belief that it is pointless to interact with civic institutions, as the result is always the same: people’s opinions and needs will be ignored. Or in the case of residents from areas such as Macquarie Fields, the relationship with civic institutions, including police, is antagonistic and best avoided (White par. 21). This means that there is no connection between the population and the civic institutions around them – there is no loyalty or belief that efforts to be involved in political and civic processes will be rewarded. Here groups sense that they do not have access to political avenues to be heard, represented or demand change. This is leading to an experience of disconnection from political processes. The result is both a sense of disengagement and disempowerment. One example here emerged in discussions with protesters around the proposed development of the former Australian Defence Industry (ADI) site in St Marys, an outer-western suburb of Sydney. The development, which was largely approved, was for a large-scale housing estate proposed on sensitive bushlands in a locality that resident’s note is under-serviced in terms of public space. (For details of these discussions, see http://www.adisite.org/.) Residents often took the attitude that whatever the desire of the local community, the development would go ahead regardless. Those who worked at information booths during the resident protests informed me that the attitude was one best summarised by: “Why bother, we always get stuffed around any way.” This was confirmed by my own discussions with local residents – even those who joined the resident action group. 2. Privatisation and Citizenship Deficit This citizenship deficit not only applies to the marginalised, however, for there are also much wealthier populations who also appear to experience a deficit that results from a lack of access to civic institutions. This tends to leads to a privatisation of decision-making and withdrawal from the public arena as well as democratic processes. Consequently, the residents in the pockets of wealth may not be acting as citizens but more like consumers – asserting themselves in terms of Castells’s ‘collective consumption’ (par. 25). This citizenship deficit is brought on by ongoing privatisation. That is, there is a belief that civic institutions (including government bodies) are unable or at least unwilling to service the local community. As a result there is a tendency to turn to private suppliers and believe that individualisation is the best way to manage the community. The result is that citizens feel no connection to the civic institutions around them, not because there is no desire, but there are no services. This group of citizens has often been described as the ‘Aspirationals’ and are most often found in the growth corridors of Sydney. There is no reason to believe that this group is this way because of choice – but rather a failure by government authorities to service their needs. This is confirmed by research undertaken as early as 1990 which found that the residents now labelled Aspirational, were demanding access to public infrastructure services including public schools, but have been neglected by different levels of government. (This was clearly stated by NSW Labor MP for Liverpool, Paul Lynch, who argued for such services as a way to ensure a functioning community particularly for Western Sydney; NSWPD 2001.) As a result there is a reliance on private schools, neighbourhoods, transport and so on. Any ‘why bother’ attitude is thus driven by a lack of evidence that civic institutions can or are not willing to meet their needs. There is a strong sense of local community – but this localisation limited to others in the same geographical location and similar lifestyle. 3. Citizenship Surplus – Empowered Not Engaged The third space of citizenship is based on a ‘surplus’ even if there is limited or no political engagement. This group has quite a lot in common with the ‘Aspirationals’ but may come from areas that are higher serviced by civic institutions: the choice not to engage is therefore voluntary. There is a strong push for self-sufficiency – believing that their social capital, wealth and status mean that they do not require the services of civic institutions. While not antagonistic towards such institutions, there is often a belief is that the services provided by the private sector are ultimately superior to public ones. Consequently, they feel empowered through their social background but are not engaged with civic institutions or the political process. Despite this, my initial research findings show that this group has a strong connection to decision-makers – both politicians and bureaucrats. This lack of engagement changes if there is a perceived injustice to their quality of life or their values system – and hence should not be dismissed as NIMBYs (not in my backyard). They believe they have the resources to mobilise and demand change. I believe that we see this group materialise in mobilisations around proposed developments that threaten the perceived quality of life of the local environment. One example brought to my attention was the rapid response of local residents to the proposed White City development near Sydney’s eastern suburbs that was to see tennis courts and public space replaced by residential and commercial buildings (Nicholls). As one resident informed me, she had never seen any political engagement by local residents previously – an engagement that was accompanied by a belief that the development would be stopped as well as a mobilisation of some impressive resources. Such mobilisations also occur when there is a perceived injustice. Examples of this group can be found in what Hugh Mackay (13) describes as ‘doctor’s wives’ (a term that I am not wholly comfortable with). Here we see the emergence of ‘Chilout’: Children out of Detention. This was an organisation whose membership was described to me as ‘north shore professionals’, drew heavily on those who believed the forced incarceration of young refugee children was an affront to their values system. 4. Insurgent Citizenship – Empowered and Engaged The final space is the insurgent citizen: that is, the citizen who is both engaged and empowered. This is a term borrowed from South Africa and the USA (Holston 1) – and it should be seen as having two, almost diametrically opposed, sides: progressive and reactionary. This group may not have access to a great deal of financial resources, but has high social capital and both a willingness and ability to engage in political processes. Consequently, there is a sense of empowerment and engagement with civic institutions. There is also a strong push for self-sufficiency – but this is encased in a belief that civic institutions have a responsibility to provide services to the public, and that some services are naturally better provided by the public sector. Despite this, there is often an antagonistic relationship with such institutions. From the progressive perspective, we see ‘activists’ promoting social justice issues (including students, academics, unionists and so on). Organisations such as A Just Australia are strongly supported by various student organisations, unions and other social justice and activist groups. From a reactionary perspective, we see the emergence of groups that take an anti-immigration stance (such as ‘anti-immigration’ groups including Australia First that draw both activists and have an established political party). (Information regarding ‘anti-refugee activists’ can be found at http://ausfirst.alphalink.com.au/ while the official website for the Australia First political part is at http://www.australiafirstparty.com.au/cms/.) One way to understand the relationship between these groups is through the engagement/empowered typology below. While a detailed discussion of the limitations of typologies is beyond the scope of this paper, it is important to acknowledge that any typology is a simplification and generalisation of the arguments presented. Likewise, it is unlikely that any typology has the ability to cover all cases and situations. This typology can, however, be used to underscore the relational nature of citizenship. The purpose here is to highlight that there are relationships between the different citizenship spaces and individuals can move between groups and each cluster has significant internal variation. Key here is that this can frame future studies. Conclusion and Next Steps There is little doubt there is a relationship between attitudes to citizenship and the health of a democracy. In Australia, democracy is robust in some ways, but many feel disempowered, disengaged and some feel both – often believing they are remote from the workings of civic institutions. It would appear that for many, interest in the process of (formal) government is at an all-time low as reflected in declining membership of political parties (Jaensch et al. 58). Democracy is not a ‘once for ever’ achievement – it needs to be protected and promoted. To do this, we must ensure that there are avenues for representation for all. This point also highlights one of the fundamental flaws of the aforementioned citizenship test. According to the Department of Immigration and Citizenship, the test is designed to: help migrants integrate and maximise the opportunities available to them in Australia, and enable their full participation in the Australian community as citizens. (par. 4) Those designing the test have assumed that citizenship is both stable and, once achieved, automatically ensures representation. This paper directly challenges these assumptions and offers an alternative research agenda with the ultimate aim of promoting high levels of engagement and empowerment. References Anderson, A. “The Liberals Have Not Betrayed the Menzies Legacy.” Online Opinion 25 Oct. 2004. http://www.onlineopinion.com.au/view.asp?article=2679>. Arvanitakis, J. “Highly Affected, Rarely Considered: The International Youth Parliament Commission’s Report on the Impacts of Globalisation on Young People.” Sydney: Oxfam Australia, 2003. Baldassar, L., Z. Kamalkhani, and C. Lange. “Afghan Hazara Refugees in Australia: Constructing Australian Citizens.” Social Identities 13.1 (2007): 31-50. Burchell, D. “Dysfunctional Dumping Grounds.” The Australian 10 Feb. 2007. http://www.theaustralian.news.com.au/story/0,20867,21199266-28737,00.html>. Burnley, I.H. The Impact of Immigration in Australia: A Demographic Approach. Melbourne: Oxford UP, 2001. Castells, M. “European Cities, the Informational Society, and the Global Economy.” New Left Review I/204 (March-April 1994): 46-57. Chamberlain, C., and D. Mackenzie. Homeless Careers: Pathways in and out of Homelessness. Melbourne: RMIT University, 2002. Chari, R., J. Hogan, and G. Murphy. “Regulating Lobbyists: A Comparative Analysis of the United States, Canada, Germany and the European Union.” The Political Quarterly 78.3 (2007): 423-438. Collins, J. “Chinese Entrepreneurs: The Chinese Diaspora in Australia.” International Journal of Entrepreneurial Behaviour & Research 8.1/2 (2002): 113-133. Dee, M. “Young People, Citizenship and Public Space.” International Sociological Association Conference Paper, Brisbane, 2002. Della Porta, D. “Globalisations and Democracy.” Democratizations 12.5 (2005): 668-685. Fagan, B., R. Dowling, and J. Longdale. “Suburbs in the ‘Global City’: Sydney since the Mid 1990s.” State of Australian cities conference. Parramatta, 2003. Frew, W. “And the Most Polarised City Is…” Sydney Morning Herald 16-17 Feb. 2008: 7. Gleeson, B. Australian Heartlands: Making Space for Hope in the Suburbs. Crows Nest: Allen and Unwin, 2006. Gleeson, B. “What’s Driving Suburban Australia?” Australian Policy Online 15 Jan. 2004. http://www.apo.org.au/webboard/results.chtml?filename_num=00558>. Gow, G. “Rubbing Shoulders in the Global City: Refugees, Citizenship and Multicultural Alliances in Fairfield, Sydney.” Ethnicities 5.3 (2005): 386-405. Hahn, C. L. “Citizenship Education: An Empirical Study of Policy, Practices and Outcomes.” Oxford Review of Education 25.1/2 (1999): 231-250. Hawley, S. “Sir Donald Bradman Likely to Be Dumped from Citizenship Test.” ABC Local Radio Online. 29 Jan. 2008. http://www.abc.net.au/am/content/2007/s2148383.htm>. Hoare, D. “Bradman’s Spot in Citizenship Test under Scrutiny.” ABC Local Radio online. 29 Jan. 2008. http://www.abc.net.au/pm/content/2008/s2149325.htm>. Holston, J. Insurgent Citizenship: Disjunctions of Democracy and Modernity in Brazil. California: Cloth, 2007. Jaensch, D., P. Brent, and B. Bowden. “Australian Political Parties in the Spotlight.” Democratic Audit of Australia Report 4. Australian National University, 2004. Mackay, H. “Sleepers Awoke from Slumber of Indifference.” Sydney Morning Herald 27 Nov. 2007: 13. NSWPD – New South Wales Parliamentary Debates. “South Western Sydney Banking Services.” Legislative Assembly Hansard, 52nd NSW Parliament, 19 Sep. 2001. Portney, K.E., and L. O’Leary. Civic and Political Engagement of America’s Youth: National Survey of Civic and Political Engagement of Young People. Medford, MA: Tisch College, Tufts University, 2007. Price, S. “Stress and Debt Make Sydney a Violent City.” Sydney Morning Herald 13 Jan. 2008: 16. Pusey, M. The Experience of Middle Australia: The Dark Side of Economic Reform. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2003. White, R. “Swarming and the Social Dynamics of Group Violence.” Trends and Issues in Crime and Criminal Justice 326 (Oct. 2006). http://www.aic.gov.au/publications/tandi2/tandi326t.html>. Wolfe, P. “Race and Citizenship.” Magazine of History 18.5 (2004): 66-72. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Arvanitakis, James. "The Heterogenous Citizen: How Many of Us Care about Don Bradman’s Average?." M/C Journal 10.6/11.1 (2008). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0804/07-arvanitakis.php>. APA Style Arvanitakis, J. (Apr. 2008) "The Heterogenous Citizen: How Many of Us Care about Don Bradman’s Average?," M/C Journal, 10(6)/11(1). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0804/07-arvanitakis.php>.

Introduction Since December 2010 the dramatic spectacle of the spread of mass uprisings, civil unrest, and protest across North Africa and the Middle East have been chronicled daily on mainstream media and new media. Broadly speaking, the Arab Spring—as it came to be known—is challenging repressive, corrupt governments and calling for democracy and human rights. The convulsive events linked with these debates have been striking not only because of the rapid spread of historically momentous mass protests but also because of the ways in which the media “have become inextricably infused inside them” enabling the global media ecology to perform “an integral part in building and mobilizing support, co-ordinating and defining the protests within different Arab societies as well as trans-nationalizing them” (Cottle 295). Images of mass protests have been juxtaposed against those of individuals prepared to self-destruct for political ends. Video clips and photographs of the individual suffering of Tunisian Mohamed Bouazizi’s self-immolation and the Bahraini Abdulhad al-Khawaja’s emaciated body foreground, in very graphic ways, political struggles that larger events would mask or render invisible. Highlighting broad commonalties does not assume uniformity in patterns of protest and media coverage across the region. There has been considerable variation in the global media coverage and nature of the protests in North Africa and the Middle East (Cottle). In Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, and Yemen uprisings overthrew regimes and leaders. In Syria it has led the country to the brink of civil war. In Bahrain, the regime and its militia violently suppressed peaceful protests. As a wave of protests spread across the Middle East and one government after another toppled in front of 24/7 global media coverage, Bahrain became the “Arab revolution that was abandoned by the Arabs, forsaken by the West … forgotten by the world,” and largely ignored by the global media (Al-Jazeera English). Per capita the protests have been among the largest of the Arab Spring (Human Rights First) and the crackdown as brutal as elsewhere. International organizations have condemned the use of military courts to trial protestors, the detaining of medical staff who had treated the injured, and the use of torture, including the torture of children (Fisher). Bahraini and international human rights organizations have been systematically chronicling these violations of human rights, and posting on Websites distressing images of tortured bodies often with warnings about the graphic depictions viewers are about to see. It was in this context of brutal suppression, global media silence, and the reluctance of the international community to intervene, that the Bahraini-Danish human rights activist Abdulhad al-Khawaja launched his “death or freedom” hunger strike. Even this radical action initially failed to interest international editors who were more focused on Egypt, Libya, and Syria, but media attention rose in response to the Bahrain Formula 1 race in April 2012. Pro-democracy activists pledged “days of rage” to coincide with the race in order to highlight continuing human rights abuses in the kingdom (Turner). As Al Khawaja’s health deteriorated the Bahraini government resisted calls for his release (Article 19) from the Danish government who requested that Al Khawaja be extradited there on “humanitarian grounds” for hospital treatment (Fisk). This article does not explore the geo-politics of the Bahraini struggle or the possible reasons why the international community—in contrast to Syria and Egypt—has been largely silent and reluctant to debate the issues. Important as they are, those remain questions for Middle Eastern specialists to address. In this article I am concerned with the overlapping and interpenetration of two ecologies. The first ecology is the ethical framing of a prison hunger strike as a corporeal-environmental act of (self) destruction intended to achieve political ends. The second ecology is the operation of global media where international inaction inadvertently foregrounds the political struggles that larger events and discourses surrounding Egypt, Libya, and Syria overshadow. What connects these two ecologies is the body of the hunger striker, turned into a spectacle and mediated via a politics of affect that invites a global public to empathise and so enter into his suffering. The connection between the two lies in the emaciated body of the hunger striker. An Ecological Humanities Approach This exploration of two ecologies draws on the ecological humanities and its central premise of connectivity. The ecological humanities critique the traditional binaries in Western thinking between nature and culture; the political and social; them and us; the collective and the individual; mind, body and emotion (Rose & Robin, Rieber). Such binaries create artificial hierarchies, divisions, and conflicts that ultimately impede the ability to respond to crises. Crises are major changes that are “out of control” driven—primarily but not exclusively—by social, political, and cultural forces that unleash “runaway systems with their own dynamics” (Rose & Robin 1). The ecological humanities response to crises is premised on the recognition of the all-inclusive connectivity of organisms, systems, and environments and an ethical commitment to action from within this entanglement. A founding premise of connectivity, first articulated by anthropologist and philosopher Gregory Bateson, is that the “unit of survival is not the individual or the species, but the organism-and-its-environment” (Rose & Robin 2). This highlights a dialectic in which an organism is shaped by and shapes the context in which it finds itself. Or, as Harries-Jones puts it, relations are recursive as “events continually enter into, become entangled with, and then re-enter the universe they describe” (3). This ensures constantly evolving ecosystems but it also means any organism that “deteriorates its environment commits suicide” (Rose & Robin 2) with implications for the others in the eco-system. Bateson’s central premise is that organisms are simultaneously independent, as separate beings, but also interdependent. Interactions are not seen purely as exchanges but as dynamic, dialectical, dialogical, and mutually constitutive. Thus, it is presumed that the destruction or protection of others has consequences for oneself. Another dimension of interactions is multi-modality, which implies that human communication cannot be reduced to a single mode such as words, actions, or images but needs to be understood in the complexity of inter-relations between these (see Rieber 16). Nor can dissemination be reduced to a single technological platform whether this is print, television, Internet, or other media (see Cottle). The final point is that interactions are “biologically grounded but not determined” in that the “cognitive, emotional and volitional processes” underpinning face-to-face or mediated communication are “essentially indivisible” and any attempt to separate them by privileging emotion at the expense of thought, or vice versa, is likely to be unhealthy (Rieber 17). This is most graphically demonstrated in a politically-motivated hunger strike where emotion and volition over-rides the survivalist instinct. The Ecology of a Prison Hunger Strike The radical nature of a hunger strike inevitably gives rise to medico-ethical debates. Hunger strikes entail the voluntary refusal of sustenance by an individual and, when prolonged, such deprivation sets off a chain reaction as the less important components in the internal body systems shut down to protect the brain until even that can no longer be protected (see Basoglu et al). This extreme form of protest—essentially an act of self-destruction—raises ethical issues over whether or not doctors or the state should intervene to save a life for humanitarian or political reasons. In 1975 and 1991, the World Medical Association (WMA) sought to negotiate this by distinguishing between, on the one hand, the mentally/psychological impaired individual who chooses a “voluntary fast” and, on the other hand, the hunger striker who chooses a form of protest action to secure an explicit political goal fully aware of fatal consequences of prolonged action (see Annas, Reyes). This binary enables the WMA to label the action of the mentally impaired suicide while claiming that to do so for political protesters would be a “misconception” because the “striker … does not want to die” but to “live better” by obtaining certain political goals for himself, his group or his country. “If necessary he is willing to sacrifice his life for his case, but the aim is certainly not suicide” (Reyes 11). In practice, the boundaries between suicide and political protest are likely to be much more blurred than this but the medico-ethical binary is important because it informs discourses about what form of intervention is ethically appropriate. In the case of the “suicidal” the WMA legitimises force-feeding by a doctor as a life-saving act. In the case of the political protestor, it is de-legitimised in discourses of an infringement of freedom of expression and an act of torture because of the pain involved (see Annas, Reyes). Philosopher Michel Foucault argued that prison is a key site where the embodied subject is explicitly governed and where the exercising of state power in the act of incarceration means the body of the imprisoned no longer solely belongs to the individual. It is also where the “body’s range of significations” is curtailed, “shaped and invested by the very forces that detain and imprison it” (Pugliese 2). Thus, prison creates the circumstances in which the incarcerated is denied the “usual forms of protest and judicial safeguards” available outside its confines. The consequence is that when presented with conditions that violate core beliefs he/she may view acts of self-destruction—such as hunger strikes or lip sewing—as one of the few “means of protesting against, or demanding attention” or achieving political ends still available to them (Reyes 11; Pugliese). The hunger strike implicates the state, which, in the act of imprisoning, has assumed a measure of power and responsibility for the body of the individual. If a protest action is labelled suicidal by medical professionals—for instance at Guantanamo—then the force-feeding of prisoners can be legitimised within the WMA guidelines (Annas). There is considerable political temptation to do so particularly when the hunger striker has become an icon of resistance to the state, the knowledge of his/her action has transcended prison confines, and the alienating conditions that prompted the action are being widely debated in the media. This poses a two-fold danger for the state. On the one hand, there is the possibility that the slow emaciation and death while imprisoned, if covered by the media, may become a spectacle able to mobilise further resistance that can destabilise the polity. On the other hand, there is the fear that in the act of dying, and the spectacle surrounding death, the hunger striker would have secured the public attention to the very cause they are championing. Central to this is whether or not the act of self-destruction is mediated. It is far from inevitable that the media will cover a hunger strike or do so in ways that enable the hunger striker’s appeal to the emotions of others. However, when it does, the international scrutiny and condemnation that follows may undermine the credibility of the state—as happened with the death of the IRA member Bobby Sands in Northern Ireland (Russell). The Media Ecology and the Bahrain Arab Spring The IRA’s use of an “ancient tactic ... to make a blunt appeal to sympathy and emotion” in the form of the Sands hunger strike was seen as “spectacularly successful in gaining worldwide publicity” (Willis 1). Media ecology has evolved dramatically since then. Over the past 20 years communication flows between the local and the global, traditional media formations (broadcast and print), and new communication media (Internet and mobile phones) have escalated. The interactions of the traditional media have historically shaped and been shaped by more “top-down” “politics of representation” in which the primary relationship is between journalists and competing public relations professionals servicing rival politicians, business or NGOs desire for media attention and framing issues in a way that is favourable or sympathetic to their cause. However, rapidly evolving new media platforms offer bottom up, user-generated content, a politics of connectivity, and mobilization of ordinary people (Cottle 31). However, this distinction has increasingly been seen as offering too rigid a binary to capture the complexity of the interactions between traditional and new media as well as the events they capture. The evolution of both meant their content increasingly overlaps and interpenetrates (see Bennett). New media technologies “add new communicative ingredients into the media ecology mix” (Cottle 31) as well as new forms of political protests and new ways of mobilizing dispersed networks of activists (Juris). Despite their pervasiveness, new media technologies are “unlikely to displace the necessity for coverage in mainstream media”; a feature noted by activist groups who have evolved their own “carnivalesque” tactics (Cottle 32) capable of creating the spectacle that meets television demands for action-driven visuals (Juris). New media provide these groups with the tools to publicise their actions pre- and post-event thereby increasing the possibility that mainstream media might cover their protests. However there is no guarantee that traditional and new media content will overlap and interpenetrate as initial coverage of the Bahrain Arab Spring highlights. Peaceful protests began in February 2011 but were violently quelled often by Saudi, Qatari and UAE militia on behalf of the Bahraini government. Mass arrests were made including that of children and medical personnel who had treated those wounded during the suppression of the protests. What followed were a long series of detentions without trial, military court rulings on civilians, and frequent use of torture in prisons (Human Rights Watch 2012). By the end of 2011, the country had the highest number of political prisoners per capita of any country in the world (Amiri) but received little coverage in the US. The Libyan uprising was afforded the most broadcast time (700 minutes) followed by Egypt (500 minutes), Syria (143), and Bahrain (34) (Lobe). Year-end round-ups of the Arab Spring on the American Broadcasting Corporation ignored Bahrain altogether or mentioned it once in a 21-page feature (Cavell). This was not due to a lack of information because a steady stream has flowed from mobile phones, Internet sites and Twitter as NGOs—Bahraini and international—chronicled in images and first-hand accounts the abuses. However, little of this coverage was picked up by the US-dominated global media. It was in this context that the Bahraini-Danish human rights activist Abdulhad Al Khawaja launched his “freedom or death” hunger strike in protest against the violent suppression of peaceful demonstrations, the treatment of prisoners, and the conduct of the trials. Even this radical action failed to persuade international editors to cover the Bahrain Arab Spring or Al Khawaja’s deteriorating health despite being “one of the most important stories to emerge over the Arab Spring” (Nallu). This began to change in April 2012 as a number of things converged. Formula 1 pressed ahead with the Bahrain Grand Prix, and pro-democracy activists pledged “days of rage” over human rights abuses. As these were violently suppressed, editors on global news desks increasingly questioned the government and Formula 1 “spin” that all was well in the kingdom (see BBC; Turner). Claims by the drivers—many of who were sponsored by the Bahraini government—that this was a sports event, not a political one, were met with derision and journalists more familiar with interviewing superstars were diverted into covering protests because their political counterparts had been denied entry to the country (Fisk). This combination of media events and responses created the attention, interest, and space in which Al Khawaja’s deteriorating condition could become a media spectacle. The Mediated Spectacle of Al Khawaja’s Hunger Strike Journalists who had previously struggled to interest editors in Bahrain and Al Khawaja’s plight found that in the weeks leading up to the Grand Prix and since “his condition rapidly deteriorated”’ and there were “daily updates with stories from CNN to the Hindustan Times” (Nulla). Much of this mainstream news was derived from interviews and tweets from Al Khawaja’s family after each visit or phone call. What emerged was an unprecedented composite—a diary of witnesses to a hunger strike interspersed with the family’s struggles with the authorities to get access to him and their almost tangible fear that the Bahraini government would not relent and he would die. As these fears intensified 48 human rights NGOs called for his release from prison (Article 19) and the Danish government formally requested his extradition for hospital treatment on “humanitarian grounds”. Both were rejected. As if to provide evidence of Al Khawaja’s tenuous hold on life, his family released an image of his emaciated body onto Twitter. This graphic depiction of the corporeal-environmental act of (self) destruction was re-tweeted and posted on countless NGO and news Websites (see Al-Jazeera). It was also juxtaposed against images of multi-million dollar cars circling a race-track, funded by similarly large advertising deals and watched by millions of people around the world on satellite channels. Spectator sport had become a grotesque parody of one man’s struggle to speak of what was going on in Bahrain. In an attempt to silence the criticism the Bahraini government imposed a de facto news blackout denying all access to Al Khawaja in hospital where he had been sent after collapsing. The family’s tweets while he was held incommunicado speak of their raw pain, their desperation to find out if he was still alive, and their grief. They also provided a new source of information, and the refrain “where is alkhawaja,” reverberated on Twitter and in global news outlets (see for instance Der Spiegel, Al-Jazeera). In the days immediately after the race the Danish prime minister called for the release of Al Khawaja, saying he is in a “very critical condition” (Guardian), as did the UN’s Ban-Ki Moon (UN News and Media). The silencing of Al Khawaja had become a discourse of callousness and as global media pressure built Bahraini ministers felt compelled to challenge this on non-Arabic media, claiming Al Khawaja was “eating” and “well”. The Bahraini Prime Minister gave one of his first interviews to the Western media in years in which he denied “AlKhawaja’s health is ‘as bad’ as you say. According to the doctors attending to him on a daily basis, he takes liquids” (Der Spiegel Online). Then, after six days of silence, the family was allowed to visit. They tweeted that while incommunicado he had been restrained and force-fed against his will (Almousawi), a statement almost immediately denied by the military hospital (Lebanon Now). The discourses of silence and callousness were replaced with discourses of “torture” through force-feeding. A month later Al Khawaja’s wife announced he was ending his hunger strike because he was being force-fed by two doctors at the prison, family and friends had urged him to eat again, and he felt the strike had achieved its goal of drawing the world’s attention to Bahrain government’s response to pro-democracy protests (Ahlul Bayt News Agency). Conclusion This article has sought to explore two ecologies. The first is of medico-ethical discourses which construct a prison hunger strike as a corporeal-environmental act of (self) destruction to achieve particular political ends. The second is of shifting engagement within media ecology and the struggle to facilitate interpenetration of content and discourses between mainstream news formations and new media flows of information. I have argued that what connects the two is the body of the hunger striker turned into a spectacle, mediated via a politics of affect which invites empathy and anger to mobilise behind the cause of the hunger striker. The body of the hunger striker is thereby (re)produced as a feature of the twin ecologies of the media environment and the self-environment relationship. References Ahlul Bayt News Agency. “Bahrain: Abdulhadi Alkhawaja’s Statement about Ending his Hunger Strike.” (29 May 2012). 1 June 2012 ‹http://abna.ir/data.asp?lang=3&id=318439›. Al-Akhbar. “Family Concerned Al-Khawaja May Be Being Force Fed.” Al-Akhbar English. (27 April 2012). 1 June 2012 ‹http://english.al-akhbar.com/content/family-concerned-al-khawaja-may-be-being-force-fed›. 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Drawing upon popular magazines, newspapers, blogs, Web sites, and videos, this essay compares the media framing of six, “fat” political figures from around the world. Framing refers to the suggested interpretations that are imbedded in media reports (Entman; McCombs and Ghanem; Seo, Dillard and Shen). As Robert Entman explains, framing is the process of culling a few elements of perceived reality and assembling a narrative that highlights connections among them to promote a particular interpretation. Frames introduce or raise the salience of certain ideas. Fully developed frames typically perform several functions, such as problem definition and moral judgment. Framing is connected to the [covert] wielding of power as, for example, when a particular frame is intentionally applied to obscure other frames. This comparative international study is an inquiry into “what people and societies make of the reality of [human weight]” (Marilyn Wann as quoted in Rothblum 3), especially in the political arena. The cultural and historical dimensions of human weight are illustrated by the practice of force-feeding girls and young women in Mauritania, because “fat” women have higher status and are more sought after as brides (Frenkiel). The current study, however, focuses on “fat” politics. The research questions that guide the study are: [RQ1] which terms do commentators utilize to describe political figures as “fat”? [RQ2] Why is the term “fat” utilized in the political arena? [RQ3] To what extent can one detect gender, national, or other differences in the manner in which the term “fat” is used in the political arena? After a brief introduction to the current media obsession with fat, the analysis begins in 1908 with William Howard Taft, the 330 pound, twenty-seventh President of the United States. The other political figures are: Chris Christie (Governor of New Jersey), Bill Clinton (forty-second President of the United States), Michelle Obama (current First Lady of the United States), Carla Bruni (former First Lady of France), and Julia Gillard (former Prime Minister of Australia). The final section presents some conclusions that may help readers and viewers to take a more critical perspective on “fat politics.” All of the individuals selected for this study are powerful, rich, and privileged. What may be notable is that their experiences of fat shaming by the media are different. This study explores those differences, while suggesting that, in some cases, their weight and appearance are being attacked to undercut their legitimate and referent power (Gaski). Media Obsession with Fat “Fat,” or “obesity,” the more scientific term that reflects the medicalisation of “fat” (Sobal) and which seems to hold sway today, is a topic with which the media currently is obsessed, both in Asia and in the United States. A quick Google search using the word “obesity” reports over 73 million hits. Ambady Ramachandran and Chamukuttan Snehalatha report on “The Rising Burden of Obesity in Asia” in a journal article that emphasizes the term “burden.” The word “epidemic” is featured prominently in a 2013 medical news report. According to the latter, obesity among men was at 13.8 per cent in Mongolia and 19.3 per cent in Australia, while the overall obesity rate has increased 46 per cent in Japan and has quadrupled in China (“Rising Epidemic”). Both articles use the word “rising” in their titles, a fear-laden term that suggests a worsening condition. In the United States, obesity also is portrayed as an “epidemic.” While some progress is being made, the obesity rate nonetheless increased in sixteen states in 2013, with Louisiana at 34.7 per cent as the highest. “Extreme obesity” in the United States has grown dramatically over thirty years to 6.3 per cent. The framing of obesity as a health/medical issue has made obesity more likely to reinforce social stereotypes (Saguy and Riley). In addition, the “thematic framing” (Shugart) of obesity as a moral failure means that “obesity” is a useful tool for undermining political figures who are fat. While the media pay considerable attention to the psychological impact of obesity, such as in “fat shaming,” the media, ironically, participate in fat shaming. Shame is defined as an emotional “consequence of the evaluation of failure” and often is induced by critics who attack the person and not the behavior (Boudewyns, Turner and Paquin). However, in a backlash against fat shaming, “Who you callin' fat?” is now a popular byline in articles and in YouTube videos (Reagan). Nevertheless, the dynamics of fat are even more complicated than an attack-and-response model can capture. For example, in an odd instance of how women cannot win, Rachel Frederickson, the recent winner of the TV competition The Biggest Loser, was attacked for being “too thin” (Ceja and Valine). Framing fat, therefore, is a complex process. Fat shaming is only one way that the media frame fat. However, fat shaming does not appear to be a major factor in media coverage of William Howard Taft, the first person in this study. William Howard Taft William Howard Taft was elected the 27th President of the United States in 1908 and served 1909-1913. Whitehouse.com describes Taft as “Large, jovial, conscientious…” Indeed, comments on the happy way that he carried his “large” size (330 pounds) are the main focus here. This ‹happy fat› framing is much different than the media framing associated with ‹fat shaming›. His happy personality was often mentioned, as can be seen in his 1930 obituary in The New York Times: “Mr. Taft was often called the most human President who ever sat in the White House. The mantle of office did not hide his winning personality in any way” (“Taft Gained Peaks”). Notice how “large” and “jovial” are combined in the framing of Taft. Despite his size, Taft was known to be a good dancer (Bromley 129). Two other words associated with Taft are “rotund” (round, plump, chubby) and “pudgy.” These terms seem a bit old-fashioned in 2015. “Rotund” comes from the Latin for “round,” “circular,” “spherical.” “Pudgy,” a somewhat newer term, comes from the colloquial for “short and thick” (Etymology Online). Taft was comfortable with being called “pudgy.” A story about Taft’s portrait in the Smithsonian’s National Portrait Gallery in Washington, D.C. illustrates the point: Artist William Schevill was a longtime acquaintance of Taft and painted him several times between 1905 and 1910. Friendship did not keep Taft from criticizing the artist, and on one occasion he asked Schevill to rework a portrait. On one point, however, the rotund Taft never interfered. When someone said that he should not tolerate Schevill's making him look so pudgy in his likenesses, he simply answered, "But I am pudgy." (Kain) Taft’s self-acceptance, as seen in the portrait by Schevill (circa 1910), stands in contrast to the discomfort caused by media framing of other fat political figures in the era of more intense media scrutiny. Chris Christie Governor Christie has tried to be comfortable with his size (300+ pounds), but may have succumbed to the medicalisation of fat and the less than positive framing of his appearance. As Christie took the national stage in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy (2012), and subsequently explored running for President, he may have felt pressure to look more “healthy” and “attractive.” Even while scoring political points for his leadership in the aftermath of Superstorm Sandy, Christie’s large size was apparent. Filmed in his blue Governor jacket during an ABC TV News report that can be accessed as a YouTube video, Christie obviously was much larger than the four other persons on the speakers’ platform (“Jersey Shore Devastated”). In the current media climate, being known for your weight may be a political liability. A 2015 Rutgers’ Eagleton Poll found that 53 percent of respondents said that Governor Christie did not have “the right look” to be President (Capehart). While fat traditionally has been associated with laziness, it now is associated with health issues, too. The media framing of fat as ‹morbidly obese› may have been one factor that led Christie to undergo weight loss surgery in 2013. After the surgery, he reportedly lost a significant amount of weight. Yet his new look was partially tarnished by media reports on the specifics of lap-band-surgery. One report in The New York Daily News stressed that the surgery is not for everyone, and that it still requires much work on the part of the patient before any long-term weight loss can be achieved (Engel). Bill Clinton Never as heavy as Governor Christie, Bill Clinton nonetheless received considerable media fat-attention of two sorts. First, he could be portrayed as a kind of ‹happy fat “Bubba”› who enjoyed eating high cholesterol fast food. Because of his charm and rhetorical ability (linked to the political necessity of appearing to understand the “average person”), Clinton could make political headway by emphasizing his Arkansas roots and eating a hamburger. This vision of Bill Clinton as a redneck, fast-food devouring “Bubba” was spoofed in a popular 1992 Saturday Night Live skit (“President-Elect Bill Clinton Stops by a McDonald's”). In 2004, after his quadruple bypass surgery, the media adopted another way to frame Bill Clinton. Clinton became the poster-child for coronary heart disease. Soon he would be framed as the ‹transformed Bubba›, who now consumed a healthier diet. ‹Bill Clinton-as-vegan› framing fit nicely with the national emphasis on nutrition, including the widespread advocacy for a largely plant-based diet (see film Forks over Knives). Michelle Obama Another political figure in the United States, whom the media has connected both to fast food and healthy nutrition, is Michelle Obama. Now in her second term as First Lady, Michelle Obama is associated with the national campaign for healthier school lunches. At the same time, critics call her “fat” and a “hypocrite.” A harsh diatribe against Obama was revealed by Media Matters for America in the personal attacks on Michelle Obama as “too fat” to be a credible source on nutrition. Dr. Keith Ablow, a FOX News medical adviser said, Michelle Obama needs to “drop a few” [pounds]. “Who is she to be giving nutrition advice?” Another biting attack on Obama can be seen in a mocking 2011 Breitbart cartoon that portrayed Michelle Obama devouring hamburgers while saying, “Please pass the bacon” (Hahn). Even though these attacks come from conservative media utterly opposed to the presidency of Barack Obama, they nonetheless reflect a more widespread political use of media framing. In the case of Michelle Obama, the media sometimes cannot decide if she is “statuesque” or “fat.” She is reported to be 5’11 tall, but her overall appearance has been described as “toned” (in her trademark sleeveless dresses) yet never as “thin.” The media’s ambivalence toward tall/large women is evident in the recent online arguments over whether Robyn Lawley, named one of the “rookies of the year” by the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue, has a “normal” body or a “plus-size” body (Blair). Therefore, we have two forms of media framing in the case of Michelle Obama. First, there is the ‹fat hypocrite› frame, an ad hominem framing that she should not be a spokesperson for nutrition. This first form of framing, perhaps, is linked to the traditional tendency to tear down political figures, to take them off their pedestals. The second form of media framing is a ‹large woman ambiguity› frame. If you are big and tall, are you “fat”? Carla Bruni Carla Bruni, a model and singer/songwriter, was married in 2008 to French President Nicolas Sarkozy (who served 2007 to 2012). In 2011, Bruni gave birth to a daughter, Giulia. After 2011, Bruni reports many attacks on her as being too “fat” (Kim; Strang). Her case is quite interesting, because it goes beyond ‹fat shaming› to illustrate two themes not previously discussed. First, the attacks on Bruni seem to connect age and fat. Specifically, Bruni’s narrative introduces the frame: ‹weight loss is difficult after giving birth›. Motherhood is taxing enough, but it becomes even more difficulty when the media are watching your waist line. It is implied that older mothers should receive more sympathy. The second frame represents an odd form of reverse fat shaming: ‹I am so sick and tired of skinny people saying they are fat›. As Bruni explains: “I’m kind of tall, with good-size shoulders, and when I am 40 pounds overweight, I don’t even look fat—I just look ugly” (Orth). Critics charge that celebs like Bruni not only do not look fat, they are not fat. Moreover, celebs are misguided in trying to cultivate sympathy that is needed by people who actually are fat. Several blogs echo this sentiment. The site Whisper displays a poster that states: “I am so sick and tired of skinny people saying they are fat.” According to Anarie in another blog, the comment, “I’m fat, too,” is misplaced but may be offered as a form of “sisterhood.” One of the best examples of the strong reaction to celebs’ fat claims is the case of actress Jennifer Lawrence. According The Gloss, Lawrence isn’t chubby. She isn’t ugly. She fits the very narrow parameters for what we consider beautiful, and has been rewarded significantly for it. There’s something a bit tone deaf in pretending not to have thin or attractive privilege when you’re one of the most successful actresses in Hollywood, consistently lauded for your looks. (Sonenshein) In sum, the attempt to make political gain out of “I’m fat” comments, may backfire and lead to a loss in political capital. Julia Gillard The final political figure in this study is Julia Eileen Gillard. She is described on Wikipedia as“…a former Australian politician who served as the 27th Prime Minister of Australia, and the Australian Labor Party leader from 2010 to 2013. She was the first woman to hold either position” (“Julia Gillard”). Gillard’s case provides a useful example of how the media can frame feminism and fat in almost opposite manners. The first version of framing, ‹woman inappropriately attacks fat men›, is set forth in a flashback video on YouTube. Political enemies of Gillard posted the video of Gillard attacking fat male politicians. The video clip includes the technique of having Gillard mouth and repeat over and over again the phrase, “fat men”…”fat men”…”fat men” (“Gillard Attacks”). The effect is to make Gillard look arrogant, insensitive, and shrill. The not-so-subtle message is that a woman should not call men fat, because a woman would not want men to call her fat. The second version of framing in the Gillard case, ironically, has a feminist leader calling Gillard “fat” on a popular Australian TV show. Australian-born Germaine Greer, iconic feminist activist and author of The Female Eunuch (1970 international best seller), commented that Gillard wore ill-fitting jackets and that “You’ve got a big arse, Julia” (“You’ve Got”). Greer’s remarks surprised and disappointed many commentators. The Melbourne Herald Sun offered the opinion that Greer has “big mouth” (“Germaine Greer’s”). The Gillard case seems to support the theory that female politicians may have a more difficult time navigating weight and appearance than male politicians. An experimental study by Beth Miller and Jennifer Lundgren suggests “weight bias exists for obese female political candidates, but that large body size may be an asset for male candidates” (p. 712). Conclusion This study has at least partially answered the original research questions. [RQ1] Which terms do commentators utilize to describe political figures as “fat”? The terms include: fat, fat arse, fat f***, large, heavy, obese, plus size, pudgy, and rotund. The media frames include: ‹happy fat›, ‹fat shaming›, ‹morbidly obese›, ‹happy fat “Bubba›, ‹transformed “Bubba›, ‹fat hypocrite›, ‹large woman ambiguity›, ‹weight gain women may experience after giving birth›, ‹I am so sick and tired of skinny people saying they are fat›, ‹woman inappropriately attacks fat men›, and ‹feminist inappropriately attacks fat woman›. [RQ2] Why is the term “fat” utilized in the political arena? Opponents in attack mode, to discredit a political figure, often use the term “fat”. It can imply that the person is “unhealthy” or has a character flaw. In the attack mode, critics can use “fat” as a tool to minimize a political figure’s legitimate and referent power. [RQ3] To what extent can one detect gender, national, or other differences in the manner in which the term “fat” is used in the political arena? In the United States, “obesity” is the dominant term, and is associated with the medicalisation of fat. Obesity is linked to health concerns, such as coronary heart disease. Weight bias and fat shaming seem to have a disproportionate impact on women. This study also has left many unanswered questions. 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In light of an ongoing debate over the authorship of the Redfern address (was it then Prime Minister Paul Keating or his speechwriter, Don Watson, who was responsible for this historic piece?), the authors of this article consider notions of ownership, authorship, and acknowledgement as they relate to the crafting, delivery, and reception of historical political speeches. There is focus, too, on the often-remarkable partnership that evolves between speechwriters and those who deliver the work. We argue that by drawing on the expertise of an artist or—in the case of the article at hand—speechwriter, collaboration facilitates the ‘translation’ of the politician’s or patron’s vision into a delivered reality. The article therefore proposes that while a speech, perhaps like a commissioned painting or sculpture, may be understood as the product of a highly synergistic collaboration between patron and producer, the power-bearer nonetheless retains essential ‘ownership’ of the material. This, we argue, is something other than the process of authorship adumbrated above. Leaving aside, for the present, the question of ownership, the context in which a speech is written and given may well intensify questions of authorship: the more politically significant or charged the context, the greater the potential impact of a speech and the more at stake in terms of its authorship. In addition to its focus on the latter, this article therefore also reflects on the considerable cultural resonance of the speech in question and, in so doing, assesses its significant impact on Australian reconciliation discourse. In arriving at our conclusions, we employ a method assemblage approach including analogy, comparison, historical reference, and interview. Comprising a range of investigative modalities such as those employed by us, John Law argues that a “method assemblage” is essentially a triangulated form of primary and secondary research facilitating the interrogation of social phenomena that do not easily yield to more traditional modes of research (Law 7). The approach is all the more relevant to this article since through it an assessment of the speech’s historical significance may be made. In particular, this article extensively compares the collaboration between Keating and Watson to that of United States President John F. Kennedy and Special Counsel and speechwriter Ted Sorensen. As the article reveals, this collaboration produced a number of Kennedy’s historic speeches and was mutually acknowledged as a particularly important relationship. Moreover, because both Sorensen and Watson were also key advisers to the leaders of their respective nations, the comparison is doubly fertile.On 10 December 1992 then Prime Minister Paul Keating launched the International Year of the World’s Indigenous People by delivering an address now recognised as a landmark in Australian, and even global, oratory. Alan Whiticker, for instance, includes the address in his Speeches That Shaped the Modern World. Following brief instruction from Keating (who was scheduled to give two orations on 10 December), the Prime Minister’s speechwriter and adviser, Don Watson, crafted the speech over the course of one evening. The oration that ensued was history-making: Keating became the first of all who held his office to declare that non-Indigenous Australians had dispossessed Aboriginal people; an unequivocal admission in which the Prime Minister confessed: “we committed the murders” (qtd. in Whiticker 331). The impact of this cannot be overstated. A personal interview with Jennifer Beale, an Indigenous Australian who was among the audience on that historic day, reveals the enormous significance of the address:I felt the mood of the crowd changed … when Keating said “we took the traditional lands” … . “we committed [the murders]” … [pauses] … I was so amazed to be standing there hearing a Prime Minister saying that… And I felt this sort of wave go over the crowd and they started actually paying attention… I’d never in my life heard … anyone say it like that: we did this, to you… (personal communication, 15 Dec. 2016)Later in the interview, when recalling a conversation in the Channel Seven newsroom where she formerly worked, Beale recalls a senior reporter saying that, with respect to Aboriginal history, there had been a ‘conservative cover up.’ Given the broader context (her being interviewed by the present authors about the Redfern Address) Beale’s response to that exchange is particularly poignant: “…it’s very rare that I have had these experiences in my life where I have been … [pauses at length] validated… by non-Aboriginal people” (op. cit.).The speech, then, is a crucial bookend in Australian reconciliation discourse, particularly as an admission of egregious wrongdoing to be addressed (Foye). The responding historical bookend is, of course, Kevin Rudd’s 2008 ‘Apology to the Stolen Generations’. Forming the focal point of the article at hand, the Redfern Address is significant for another reason: that is, as the source of a now historical controversy and very public (and very bitter) falling out between politician and speechwriter.Following the publication of Watson’s memoir Recollections of a Bleeding Heart, Keating denounced the former as having broken an unwritten contract that stipulates the speechwriter has the honour of ‘participating in the endeavour and the power in return for anonymity and confidentiality’ (Keating). In an opinion piece appearing in the Sydney Morning Herald, Keating argued that this implied contract is central to the speech-writing process:This is how political speeches are written, when the rapid business of government demands mass writing. A frequency of speeches that cannot be individually scripted by the political figure or leader giving them… After a pre-draft conference on a speech—canvassing the kind of things I thought we should say and include—unless the actual writing was off the beam, I would give the speech more or less off the printer… All of this only becomes an issue when the speechwriter steps from anonymity to claim particular speeches or words given to a leader or prime minister in the privacy of the workspace. Watson has done this. (Keating)Upon the release of After Words, a collection of Keating’s post-Prime Ministerial speeches, senior writer for The Australian, George Megalogenis opined that the book served to further Keating’s argument: “Take note, Don Watson; Keating is saying, ‘I can write’” (30). According to Phillip Adams, Keating once bluntly declared “I was in public life for twenty years without Don Watson and did pretty well” (154). On the subject of the partnership’s best-known speech, Keating claims that while Watson no doubt shared the sentiments invoked in the Redfern Address, “in the end, the vector force of the power and what to do with it could only come from me” (Keating).For his part, Watson has challenged Keating’s claim to being the rightfully acknowledged author of the Redfern Address. In an appearance on the ABC’s Q&A he asserted authorship of the material, listing other famous historical exponents of his profession who had taken credit for their place at the wheel of government: “I suppose I could say that while I was there, really I was responsible for the window boxes in Parliament House but, actually, I was writing speeches as speechwriters do; as Peggy Noonan did for Ronald Reagan; as Graham Freudenberg did for three or four Prime Ministers, and so on…” (Watson). Moreover, as Watson has suggested, a number of prominent speechwriters have gone on to take credit for their work in written memoirs. In an opinion piece in The Australian, Denis Glover observes that: “great speechwriters always write such books and have the good sense to wait until the theatre has closed, as Watson did.” A notable example of this after-the-era approach is Ted Sorensen’s Counselor in which the author nonetheless remains extraordinarily humble—observing that reticence, or ‘a passion for anonymity’, should characterise the posture of the Presidential speechwriter (131).In Counselor, Sorensen discusses his role as collaborator with Kennedy—likening the relationship between political actor and speechwriter to that between master and apprentice (130). He further observes that, like an apprentice, a speechwriter eventually learns to “[imitate] the style of the master, ultimately assisting him in the execution of the final work of art” (op. cit., 130-131). Unlike Watson’s claim to be the ‘speechwriter’—a ‘master’, of sorts—Sorensen more modestly declares that: “for eleven years, I was an apprentice” (op. cit., 131). At some length Sorensen focuses on this matter of anonymity, and the need to “minimize” his role (op. cit.). Reminiscent of the “unwritten contract” (see above) that Keating declares broken by Watson, Sorensen argues that his “reticence was [and is] the result of an implicit promise that [he] vowed never to break…” (op. cit.). In implying that the ownership of the speeches to which he contributed properly belongs to his President, Sorensen goes on to state that “Kennedy did deeply believe everything I helped write for him, because my writing came from my knowledge of his beliefs” (op. cit. 132). As Herbert Goldhamer observes in The Adviser, this knowing of a leader’s mind is central to the advisory function: “At times the adviser may facilitate the leader’s inner dialogue…” (15). The point is made again in Sorensen’s discussion of his role in the writing of Kennedy’s Profiles in Courage. In response to a charge that he [Sorensen] had ghost-written the book, Sorensen confessed that he might have privately boasted of having written much of it. (op. cit., 150) But he then goes on to observe that “the book’s concept was his [Kennedy’s], and that the selection of stories was his.” (op. cit.). “Like JFK’s speeches”, Sorensen continues, “Profiles in Courage was a collaboration…” (op. cit.).Later in Counselor, when discussing Kennedy’s inaugural address, it is interesting to note that Sorensen is somewhat less modest about the question of authorship. While the speech was and is ‘owned’ by Kennedy (the President requested its crafting, received it, edited the final product many times, and—with considerable aplomb—delivered it in the cold midday air of 20 January 1961), when discussing the authorship of the text Sorensen refers to the work of Thurston Clarke and Dick Tofel who independently conclude that the speech was a collaborative effort (op. cit. 227). Sorensen notes that while Clarke emphasised the President’s role and Tofel emphasised his own, the matter of who was principal craftsman will—and indeed should—remain forever clouded. To ensure that it will permanently remain so, following a discussion with Kennedy’s widow in 1965, Sorensen destroyed the preliminary manuscript. And, when pressed about the similarities between it and the final product (which he insists was revised many times by the President), he claims not to recall (op. cit. 227). Interestingly, Robert Dallek argues that while ‘suggestions of what to say came from many sources’, ‘the final version [of the speech] came from Kennedy’s hand’ (324). What history does confirm is that both Kennedy and Sorensen saw their work as fundamentally collaborative. Arthur Schlesinger Jr. records Kennedy’s words: “Ted is indispensable to me” (63). In the same volume, Schlesinger observes that the relationship between Sorensen and Kennedy was ‘special’ and that Sorensen felt himself to have a unique facility to know [Kennedy’s] mind and to ‘reproduce his idiom’ (op.cit.). Sorensen himself makes the point that his close friendship with the President made possible the success of the collaboration, and that this “could not later be replicated with someone else with whom [he] did not have that same relationship” (131). He refers, of course, to Lyndon Johnson. Kennedy’s choice of advisers (including Sorensen as Special Counsel) was, then, crucial—although he never ceded to Sorensen sole responsibility for all speechwriting. Indeed, as we shortly discuss, at critical junctures the President involved others (including Schlesinger, Richard Goodwin, and Myer Feldman) in the process of speech-craft and, on delivery day, sometimes departed from the scripts proffered.As was the case with Keating’s, creative tension characterised Kennedy’s administration. Schlesinger Jr. notes that it was an approach practiced early, in Kennedy’s strategy of keeping separate his groups of friends (71). During his Presidency, this fostering of creative tension extended to the drafting of speeches. In a special issue of Time, David von Drehle notes that the ‘Peace’ speech given 10 June 1963 was “prepared by a tight circle of advisers” (97). Still, even here, Sorensen’s role remained pivotal. One of those who worked on that speech (commonly regarded as Kennedy’s finest) was William Forster, Director of the Arms Control and Disarmament Agency. As indicated by the conditional “I think” in “Ted Sorensen, I think, sat up all night…”, Forster somewhat reluctantly concedes that while a group was involved, Sorensen’s contribution was central: “[Sorensen], with his remarkable ability to polish and write, was able to send each of us and the President the final draft about six or seven in the morning…” (op. cit.).In most cases, however, it fell on Sorensen alone to craft the President’s speeches. While Sorenson’s mind surely ‘rolled in unison’ with Kennedy’s (Schlesinger Jr. 597), and while Sorensen’s words dominated the texts, the President would nonetheless annotate scripts, excising redundant material and adding sentences. In the case of less formal orations, the President was capable of all but abandoning the script (a notable example was his October 1961 oration to mark the publication of the first four volumes of the John Quincy Adams papers) but for orations of national or international significance there remained a sense of careful collaboration between Kennedy and Sorensen. Yet, even in such cases, the President’s sense of occasion sometimes encouraged him to set aside his notes. As Arthur Schlesinger Jr. observes, Kennedy had an instinctive feel for language and often “spoke extemporaneously” (op. cit.). The most memorable example, of course, is the 1961 speech in Berlin where Kennedy (appalled by the erection of the Berlin Wall, and angry over the East’s churlish covering of the Brandenburg Gate) went “off-script and into dangerous diplomatic waters” (Tubridy 85). But the risky departure paid off in the form of a TKO against Chairman Khrushchev. In late 1960, following two independent phone calls concerning the incarceration of Martin Luther King, Kennedy had remarked to John Galbraith that “the best strategies are always accidental”—an approach that appears to have found its way into his formal rhetoric (Schlesinger Jr. 67).Ryan Tubridy, author of JFK in Ireland, observes that “while the original draft of the Berlin Wall speech had been geared to a sense of appeasement that acknowledged the Wall’s presence as something the West might have to accept, the ad libs suggested otherwise” (85). Referencing Arthur Schlesinger Jr.’s account of the delivery, Tubridy notes that the President’s aides observed the orator’s rising emotion—especially when departing from the script as written:There are some who say that Communism is the way of the future. Let them come to Berlin. And there are some who say in Europe and elsewhere we can work with the Communists. Let them come to Berlin … Freedom has many difficulties and democracy is not perfect, but we have never had to put up a wall to keep our people in.That the speech defined Kennedy’s presidency even more than did his inaugural address is widely agreed, and the President’s assertion “Ich bin ein Berliner” is one that has lived on now for over fifty years. The phrase was not part of the original script, but an addition included at the President’s request by Kennedy’s translator Robert Lochner.While this phrase and the various additional departures from the original script ‘make’ the speech, they are nonetheless part of a collaborative whole the nature of which we adumbrate above. Furthermore, it is a mark of the collaboration between speechwriter and speech-giver that on Air Force One, as they flew from West Germany to Ireland, Kennedy told Sorensen: “We’ll never have another day like this as long as we live” (op. cit. 88; Dallek 625). The speech, then, was a remarkable joint enterprise—and (at least privately) was acknowledged as such.It seems unlikely that Keating will ever (even semi-publicly) acknowledge the tremendous importance of Watson to his Prime Ministership. There seems not to have been a ‘Don is indispensable to me’ moment, but according to the latter the former Prime Minister did offer such sentiment in private. In an unguarded moment, Keating allegedly said that Watson would “be able to say that [he, Watson, was] the puppet master for the biggest puppet in the land” (Watson 290). If this comment was indeed offered, then Keating, much like Kennedy, (at least once) privately acknowledged the significant role that his speechwriter played in his administration. Watson, for his part, was less reticent. On the ABC’s Q&A of 29 August 2011 he assessed the relationship as being akin to a [then] “requited” love. Of course, above and beyond private or public acknowledgement of collaboration is tangible evidence of such: minuted meetings between speechwriter and speech-giver and instructions to the speechwriter that appear, for example, in a politician’s own hand. Perhaps more importantly, the stamp of ownership on a speech can be signalled by marginalia concerning delivery and in the context of the delivery itself: the engagement of emphases, pause, and the various paralinguistic phenomena that can add so much character to—and very much define—a written text. By way of example we reference again the unique and impassioned delivery of the Berlin speech, above. And beyond this again, as also suggested, are the non-written departures from a script that further put the stamp of ownership on an oration. In the case of Kennedy, it is easy to trace such marginalia and resultant departures from scripted material but there is little evidence that Keating either extensively annotated or extemporaneously departed from the script in question. However, as Tom Clark points out, while there are very few changes to Watson’s words there are fairly numerous “annotations that mark up timing, emphasis, and phrase coherence.” Clark points out that Keating had a relatively systematic notational schema “to guide him in the speech performance” (op. cit.). In engaging a musical analogy (an assemblage device that we ourselves employ), he opines that these scorings, “suggest a powerful sense of fidelity to the manuscript as authoritative composition” (op. cit.). While this is so, we argue—and one can easily conceive Keating arguing—that they are also marks of textual ownership; the former Prime Minister’s ‘signature’ on the piece. This is a point to which we return. For now, we note that matters of stress, rhythm, intonation, gesture, and body language are crucial to the delivery of a speech and reaffirm the point that it is in its delivery that an adroitly rendered text might come to life. As Sorensen (2008) reflects:I do not dismiss the potential of the right speech on the right topic delivered by the right speaker in the right way at the right moment. It can ignite a fire, change men’s minds, open their eyes, alter their votes, bring hope to their lives, and, in all these ways, change the world. I know. I saw it happen. (143)We argue that it is in its delivery to (and acceptance by) the patron and in its subsequent delivery by the patron to an audience that a previously written speech (co-authored, or not) may be ‘owned’. As we have seen, with respect to questions of authorship or craftsmanship, analogies (another device of method assemblage) with the visual and musical arts are not uncommon—and we here offer another: a reference to the architectural arts. When a client briefs an architect, the architect must interpret the client’s vision. Once the blueprints are passed to the client and are approved, the client takes ownership of work that has been, in a sense, co-authored. Ownership and authorship are not the same, then, and we suggest that it is the interstices that the tensions between Keating and Watson truly lie.In crafting the Redfern address, there is little doubt that Watson’s mind rolled in unison with the Prime Minister’s: invisible, intuited ‘evidence’ of a fruitful collaboration. As the former Prime Minister puts it: “Watson and I actually write in very similar ways. He is a prettier writer than I am, but not a more pungent one. So, after a pre-draft conference on a speech—canvassing the kind of things I thought we should say and include—unless the actual writing was off the beam, I would give the speech more or less off the printer” (Keating). As one of the present authors has elsewhere observed, “Watson sensed the Prime Minister’s mood and anticipated his language and even the pattern of his voice” (Foye 19). Here, there are shades of the Kennedy/Sorensen partnership. As Schlesinger Jr. observes, Kennedy and Sorensen worked so closely together that it became impossible to know which of them “originated the device of staccato phrases … or the use of balanced sentences … their styles had fused into one” (598). Moreover, in responding to a Sunday Herald poll asking readers to name Australia’s great orators, Denise Davies remarked, “Watson wrote the way Keating thought and spoke” (qtd. in Dale 46). Despite an uncompromising, pungent, title—‘On that historic day in Redfern, the words I spoke were mine’—Keating’s SMH op-ed of 26 August 2010 nonetheless offers a number of insights vis-a-vis the collaboration between speechwriter and speech-giver. To Keating’s mind (and here we might reflect on Sorensen’s observation about knowing the beliefs of the patron), the inspiration for the Prime Minister’s Redfern Address came from conversations between he and Watson.Keating relates an instance when, on a flight crossing outback Western Australia, he told Watson that “we will never really get Australia right until we come to terms with them (Keating).” “Them”, Keating explains, refers to Aborigines. Keating goes on to suggest that by “come to terms”, he meant “owning up to dispossession” (op. cit.)—which is precisely what he did, to everyone’s great surprise, in the speech itself. Keating observes: I remember well talking to Watson a number of times about stories told to me through families [he] knew, of putting “dampers” out for Aborigines. The dampers were hampers of poisoned food provided only to murder them. I used to say to Watson that this stuff had to be owned up to. And it was me who established the inquiry into the Stolen Generation that Kevin Rudd apologised to. The generation who were taken from their mothers.So, the sentiments that “we did the dispossessing … we brought the diseases, the alcohol, that we committed the murders and took the children from their mothers” were my sentiments. P.J. Keating’s sentiments. They may have been Watson’s sentiments also. But they were sentiments provided to a speechwriter as a remit, as an instruction, as guidance as to how this subject should be dealt with in a literary way. (op. cit.)While such conversations might not accurately be called “guidance” (something more consciously offered as such) or “instruction” (as Keating declares), they nonetheless offer to the speechwriter a sense of the trajectory of a leader’s thoughts and sentiments. As Keating puts it, “the sentiments of the speech, that is, the core of its authority and authorship, were mine” (op. cit.). As does Sorensen, Keating argues that that such revelation is a source of “power to the speechwriter” (op. cit.). This he buttresses with more down to earth language: conversations of this nature are “meat and drink”, “the guidance from which the authority and authorship of the speech ultimately derives” (op. cit.). Here, Keating gets close to what may be concluded: while authorship might, to a significant extent, be contingent on the kind of interaction described, ownership is absolutely contingent on authority. As Keating asserts, “in the end, the vector force of the power and what to do with it could only come from me” (op. cit.). In other words, no Prime Minister with the right sentiments and the courage to deliver them publicly (i.e. Keating), no speech.On the other hand, we also argue that Watson’s part in crafting the Redfern Address should not be downplayed, requiring (as the speech did) his unique writing style—called “prettier” by the former Prime Minister. More importantly, we argue that the speech contains a point of view that may be attributed to Watson more than Keating’s description of the speechwriting process might suggest. In particular, the Redfern Address invoked a particular interpretation of Australian history that can be attributed to Watson, whose manuscript Keating accepted. Historian Manning Clark had an undeniable impact on Watson’s thinking and thus the development of the Redfern address. Per Keating’s claim that he himself had “only read bits and pieces of Manning’s histories” (Curran 285), the basis for this link is actual and direct: Keating hired Clark devotee Watson as a major speech writer on the same day that Clark died in 1991 (McKenna 71). McKenna’s examination of Clark’s history reveals striking similarities with the rhetoric at the heart of the Redfern address. For example, in his 1988 essay The Beginning of Wisdom, Clark (in McKenna) announces:Now we are beginning to take the blinkers off our eyes. Now we are ready to face the truth about our past, to acknowledge that the coming of the British was the occasion of three great evils: the violence against the original inhabitants of the of the country, the Aborigines, the violence against the first European labour force in Australia, the convicts and the violence done to the land itself. (71)As the above quote demonstrates, echoes of Clark’s denouncement of Australia’s past are evident in the Redfern Address’ rhetoric. While Keating is correct to suggest that Watson and he shared the sentiments behind the Address, it may be said that it took Watson—steeped as he was in Clark’s understanding of history and operating closely as he did with the Prime Minister—to craft the Redfern Address. Notwithstanding the concept of ownership, Keating’s claim that the “vector force” for the speech could only come from him unreasonably diminishes Watson’s role.ConclusionThis article has considered the question of authorship surrounding the 1992 Redfern Address, particularly in view of the collaborative nature of speechwriting. The article has also drawn on the analogous relationship between President Kennedy and his Counsel, Ted Sorensen—an association that produced historic speeches. Here, the process of speechwriting has been demonstrated to be a synergistic collaboration between speechwriter and speech-giver; a working partnership in which the former translates the vision of the latter into words that, if delivered appropriately, capture audience attention and sympathy. At its best, this collaborative relationship sees the emergence of a synergy so complete that it is impossible to discern who wrote what (exactly). While the speech carries the imprimatur and original vision of the patron/public actor, this originator nonetheless requires the expertise of one (or more) who might give shape, clarity, and colour to what might amount to mere instructive gesture—informed, in the cases of Sorensen and Watson, by years of conversation. While ‘ownership’ of a speech then ultimately rests with the power-bearer (Keating requested, received, lightly edited, ‘scored’, and delivered—with some minor ad libbing, toward the end—the Redfern text), the authors of this article consider neither Keating nor Watson to be the major scribe of the Redfern Address. Indeed, it was a distinguished collaboration between these figures that produced the speech: a cooperative undertaking similar to the process of writing this article itself. Moreover, because an Australian Prime Minister brought the plight of Indigenous Australians to the attention of their non-Indigenous counterparts, the address is seminal in Australian history. It is, furthermore, an exquisitely crafted document. And it was also delivered with style. As such, the Redfern Address is memorable in ways similar to Kennedy’s inaugural, Berlin, and Peace speeches: all products of exquisite collaboration and, with respect to ownership, emblems of rare leadership.ReferencesAdams, Phillip. Backstage Politics: Fifty Years of Political Memories. London: Viking, 2010.Beale, Jennifer. Personal interview. 15 Dec. 2016.Clark, Tom. “Paul Keating’s Redfern Park Speech and Its Rhetorical Legacy.” Overland 213 (Summer 2013). <https://overland.org.au/previous-issues/issue-213/feature-tom-clarke/ Accessed 16 January 2017>.Curran, James. The Power of Speech: Australian Prime Ministers Defining the National Image. Melbourne: Melbourne UP, 2004.Dale, Denise. “Speech Therapy – How Do You Rate the Orators.” Sun Herald, 9 Mar.2008: 48.Dallek, Robert. An Unfinished Life: John F. Kennedy 1917-1963. New York: Little Brown, 2003.Foye, Jonathan. Visions and Revisions: A Media Analysis of Reconciliation Discourse, 1992-2008. Honours Thesis. 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