Artículos de revistas sobre el tema "Serve dei poveri"

Se attraverso i dati ufficiali (ISTAT, MIUR e altre Istituzioni) si può analizzare dal punto di vista statistico il fenomeno della povertà educativa, costruendo graduatorie territoriali, na-zionali e internazionali, sono le indagini direttamente rivolte ai ragazzi, o anche agli educa-tori, a dare completezza al quadro complessivo del rischio di marginalizzazione a cui sono esposti i minori. Dal 2014 il CNR-IRPPS ha svolto una serie di indagini rivolte ai giovani delle scuole secondarie, sia inferiori che superiori, per approfondire la conoscenza sulla condizione giovanile. Si tratta di esperienze pratiche derivanti dalle attività di ricerca di due progetti del CNR-IRPPS, uno dedicato alla pratica dello sport come veicolo di integrazione sociale (IRPPS WPs n. 106 e 108), che è stato realizzato attraverso quattro survey distinte, e l'altro più specificamente dedicato allo studio della condizione giovanile (IRPPS WPs n. 107; Tintori e Cerbara, 2016) sia in contesti territoriali limitati che a livello nazionale. In entram-bi i progetti un team di ricercatori si è recato nelle scuole per effettuare, durante l'indagine, l'osservazione diretta del comportamento degli studenti ammessi nel campione, rivelando una serie di elementi importanti, in primo luogo per la scuola che è chiamata ad intervenire anche sulla povertà educativa, ma anche a livello di ricerca sociale più allargata. Partendo dal presupposto che la povertà educativa solo in parte coincide con la povertà eco-nomica, i dati raccolti dimostrano che, anche quando le condizioni economiche sono accetta-bili, può verificarsi la presenza di fattori di rischio di esclusione sociale che spesso si so-vrappongono, fino a determinare una vera e propria barriera che impedisce ai ragazzi di vedersi nello stesso modo dei propri pari. Vivere in una famiglia con background migratorio oppure con uno status culturale non elevato, ma anche essere donna, costituiscono elementi sufficienti perché i giovani rimangano vittime di condizionamenti sociali che impediscono lo-ro di scegliere il proprio futuro. E anche i comportamenti devianti (uso di sostanze pericolo-se, atti di violenza verbale o fisica, ecc.) possono essere determinati da situazioni di disagio correlabili con una povertà culturale che è più difficile da determinare ma che è altrettanto importante delle altre declinazioni di povertà. Alla voce degli studenti si aggiunge poi quella dei docenti che, attraverso le due indagini con-dotte dal CNR-IRPPS, hanno potuto esprimere il proprio parere sulla situazione dei giovani da un punto di osservazione particolare ed hanno dato alcune indicazioni su come la scuola potrebbe intervenire per limitare le situazioni di difficoltà nell'integrazione tra i giovani.

A tre anni dall'introduzione del "Reddito di Cittadinanza" in Italia, nel dibattito pubblico non è stato compresa a sufficienza la reale portata di una riforma che vincola, almeno sulla carta, il riconoscimento di un sussidio di ultima istanza a precisi e rigidi obblighi. In questo articolo si forniscono una serie di ipotesi per spiegare questo fenomeno che sarà interpreta- to sia in termini culturali che politici. Si utilizzerà una categoria ripresa da Antonio Gram- sci, quella di "rivoluzione passiva", adeguatamente contestualizzata e rielaborata. Si spie- gherà come il reddito di cittadinanza sia configurabile, per come è stato concepito e per come è stato gestito fino ad oggi, nella stessa cornice. In particolare, sarà evidenziato il doppio ruolo svolto da una simile misura: da un lato, essa si muove in una prospettiva di giustizia sociale, ma riconosce un sostegno condizionato nel tempo solo a una parte dei po- veri assoluti statisticamente rilevati in base a criteri meramente fiscali; dall'altro lato, evi- denzia l'esigenza di un controllo sociale vincolato a un'idea astratta di lavoro e distingue i poveri abili al lavoro da quelli non abili.

Gregory Nazianzus and Gregory of Nyssa between them composed three orations on love of the destitute poor: Nazianzen's Oration 14, Peri philoptōchias and Nyssen's On love of the poor 1 and 2 (De beneficentia and In illud: quatenus uni ex his fecistis mihi fecistis). All three situate leprosy as the most extreme, and therefore paradigmatic, form of poverty as a basis for exhorting Christians to the practice of love. Those suffering from leprosy were stigmatised and excluded from society even by Christians, yet the Gregories exhort them to serve Christ by serving them, supporting pastoral entreaty with theological argument. This paper aims to introduce these orations to those unfamiliar with them and contribute new insights to those who already know them. After situating them in their historical context I summarise each then comment on their content, highlighting Nazianzen's reconfiguration of classical motifs in the service of a revisionist social policy and Christian anthropology rooted in the imago Dei and Nyssen's recourse to ascetic theory with marked similarities to that of Egyptian desert asceticism as taught by Evagrius. This paper's discussion of these prophetic orations will contribute to knowledge of them and by extension of the two Gregories.

Gli angiomi cavernosi cerebrali (ACC) sono una delle malformazioni vascolari del SNC meno frequenti. É nota peraltro la possibilità di ricorrenza familiare con modalità di trasmissione autosomica dominante. Presentiamo una famiglia italiana, seguita lungamente nel tempo, in cui 10 soggetti in 4 generazioni presentano ACC. Il reperto cerebrale era associato ad angioma cavernoso epatico (ACE) in 2 soggetti e ad angioma cavernoso retinico (ACR) in uno. La TC, eseguita in 9 soggetti, ha dimostrato una maggior capacità rispetto alla RM di rilevare le calcificazioni spesso presenti in queste malformazioni; la RM ha evidenziato d'altra parte un numero maggiore di cavernomi, soprattutto in sede sottotentoriale. 7 pazienti sono stati sottoposti ad esame angiografico con tecnica digitale sottrattiva. In nessun caso è stata dimostrata malformazione angiomatosa di tipo artero-venoso ed in 1 solo caso è stata rilevata una lieve persistenza di contrasto nelle fasi capillare-venose. Riteniamo meritevole di segnalazione questa famiglia per: l'associazione di ACC con ACE segnalata in 1 solo caso in letteratura (Filling - Katz) e la contemporanea associazione, pur in un solo paziente, di ACR; la costante molteplicità delle lesioni cerebrali, quasi sempre presenti sia in sede sopra che sottotentoriale; il contrasto tra la povertà dei sintomi e l'imponenza del quadro radiologico e la sua variabilità espressiva nelle diverse generazioni; l'elevato numero di soggetti affetti rispetto ad altre famiglie riportate in letteratura. I rilievi clinico-radiologici nella presente casistica ed i dati riportati dalla letteratura suggeriscono la necessità di uno studio neuroradiologico complementare TC ed RM nei soggetti affetti da ACC e nei familiari. Va peraltro tenuta presente la possibilità attuale di selezionare i pazienti da sottoporre ad angiografia tradizionale sulla base dei reperti ottenibili con angio-RM. Va sottolineata infine l'opportunità di una attenta e ponderata valutazione della terapia chirurgica proposta da molti autori, data la relativa benignità del decorso clinico riscontrata nei soggetti della nostra serie casistica.

The overall objective of the study was to identify the problems of sustainable development of environmentally valuable areas of the Lubelskie Voivodship, as seen from the perspective of local authorities. Implementation of the adopted objective was served by the analysis of the results of research carried out in 2013 in the Lubelskie Voivodship in the 30 communes of the greatest ecological value in the Lubelskie Voivodship according to the index developed by D. Guzal-Dec within the assessment of natural value in the study of the ecological value of rural and urban-rural communes of the Lubelskie Voivodship and the analysis of documents of local development strategies of the researched communes. The study included a questionnaire survey of 383 councilors representing 86% of respondents. In light of the conducted analysis we can claim that problems of socio-economic development, such as unemployment, poverty, emigration of young people, difficulty in developing social capital, poor infrastructure — both social and technical, including roads and sewers, are still important issues of sustainable development. and environmental problems are not seen as important when compared to the essential problems of socio-economic development, as well as the small scale of direct environmental threats.

Purpose A cost-oriented data envelopment analysis (DEA) is a non-parametric tool for discriminating the best performers from a number of homogenous decision-making units (DMU) using allocative efficiency, technical efficiency and a cost-based efficiency score. Cost of each resource has been an important input in such cases. However, the purpose of this paper is to propose a method, which, in absence of it, helps to define the targeted output for all DMUs. Eigenvector derived from the first principal component of specific covariance matrix from each allocated outputs is used here for computing such targets. An orthogonal projection of resources to such radial directions is another indicator of a relative economic use of resources. Unlike regular cost-oriented DEA model, the current model proposes a multiplier model of BCC DEA. With the provision of the targeted output set for a DMU, the modified multiplier model measures the orientation of a DMU towards cost. A case study of six schools is incorporated here to identify the superior cost efficient school. Design/methodology/approach The problem referred here is concerned about six private pre-primary schools situated in a locality. The financial condition of the population is heterogeneous. The school management has the option to select the group of students according to the richness of the family. Thus, an average richness is taken into account here for each school to understand the motive of providing service to the targeted section of the society. Cost borne by each school per student per month is incorporated here to notice the intention of the school to offer education. The selection of input variables is inspired from the valuable findings of Hillman and Jenkner (2002). According to them in many developing countries, the governments lack either the financial resources or the political will to meet their citizens’ educational needs. Moreover, “Children are entitled to a free, quality basic education. Many children who do attend school receive an inadequate education because of poorly trained, underpaid teachers, overcrowded classrooms, and a lack of basic teaching tools such as textbooks, blackboards, and pens and paper […].” The inclusion of the first input is due to the measurement of willingness of a primary school to impart education. Commenting on the ill-effects, they mentioned “In an ideal world, primary education would be universal and publicly financed, and all children would be able to attend school regardless of their parents’ ability or willingness to pay. The reason is simple: when any child fails to acquire the basic skills needed to function as a productive, responsible member of society, […]. The cost of educating children is far outweighed by the cost of not educating them. Adults who lack basic skills have greater difficulty in finding well-paying jobs and escaping poverty […].” Thus, the second input plays a key role to measure the intention of a primary school to stand them in a good stead serve for the sake of ensuring social benefit. In this regard, two scores refer the outcome of the endeavor of whole system to create better students and to help society to progress. Findings The cost-oriented multiplier BCC DEA model is presented here to cite a proof of an existence of an ideal cost frontier originating from an MPSS-based DEA (referred in Sarkar, 2014a). The former model has mentioned that it is not necessary for a CCR efficient DMU to remain cost competent. However, the major drawback of that model was its inability to show the impact of return to scale. In the present model, this problem has been tackled nicely. School A, in this example, under the variable return to scale, can become a cost efficient school. However, the proposed model, in this paper, under constant return to scale, has accepted the ranking, which was proposed before. Research limitations/implications Only six schools, situated around Northwest Durgapur, were observed. Practical implications The prescribed model iterates how a smaller number of intermediate inputs can be used in DEA to identify benchmark. These variables, which emblem the control through lean approaches, can be representative of a large number of other actual inputs which have already been mentioned by many erstwhile researchers. Social implications The selection of input variables is inspired from the valuable findings of Hillman and Jenkner (2002). According to them in many developing countries, the governments’ lack either the financial resources or the political will to meet their citizens’ educational needs. Moreover, “Children are entitled to a free, quality basic education. Many children who do attend school receive an inadequate education because of poorly trained, underpaid teachers, overcrowded classrooms, and a lack of basic teaching tools such as textbooks, blackboards, and pens and paper […].” The inclusion of the first input is due to the measurement of willingness of a primary school to impart education. Commenting on the ill-effects, they mentioned “In an ideal world, primary education would be universal and publicly financed, and all children would be able to attend school regardless of their parents’ ability or willingness to pay. The reason is simple: when any child fails to acquire the basic skills needed to function as a productive, responsible member of society, […]. The cost of educating children is far outweighed by the cost of not educating them. Adults who lack basic skills have greater difficulty in finding well-paying jobs and escaping poverty […].” Thus, the second input plays a key role to measure the intention of a primary school to stand them in a good stead serve for the sake of ensuring social benefit. In this regard, two scores refer the outcome of the endeavor of whole system to create better students and to help society to progress. Originality/value The application of the directional distance model (prescribed by Chambers et al., 1998) in the present problem is because the target for each DMU is settled using the non-central PCA. Such a radial direction not only explains a comprehensive variation of the corresponding specific covariance matrix but also provides a cost function, which is orthogonal to it. The targeted output for any DMU is predicted by minimizing the cost function bearing with the respective utilization of resources. The current model allows deriving the radial efficiency score in reference to such targeted goals. The outcome of this model is validated with the outputs of an MPSS-based constant return on scale frontier function described in Sarkar (2014a). Both models show a substantial association in this regard.

<p class="IIABSBARU">This study discussed the implementation of the strategy management system on zakat management organizations 'Al-Mumtaz Peduli’ Pontianak, West Kalimantan. Using the Five Forces Strategy analysis, the researcher will see to what extent Al-Mumtaz Peduli Pontianak is able to serve its function as a zakat agency competing with other organizations. This study was a field and qualitative research. The data had been obtained through interviews and documentation. This study concludes that Al-Mumtaz Peduli recognized other zakat institutions are partners that can work together to alleviate poverty and social problems. Al-Mumtaz gives services on orphans and wish every village has a religious preacher. Al-Mumtaz Peduli always do a socialization through seminars, mass and electronic media. Relating with collection and distribution of ZISWAF funds, Al-Mumtaz always improves its services to <em>muzaki</em> by giving activity and financial reports socialized by a per-three months’ magazines.</p><p class="IIABSBARU">***</p>Penelitian ini membahas implementasi sistem manajemen strategi pada organisasi pengelola zakat ‘Al-Mumtaz Peduli’ Pontianak, Kalimantan Barat. De­ngan menggunakan analisa Five Forces Strategy, peneliti akan melihat sejauh mana Al-Mumtaz Peduli Pontianak mampu menjalankan fungsinya sebagai organisasi pengelola zakat ditengah persaingan dengan lembaga zakat yang lain. Penelitian ini merupakan penelitian lapangan dan kualitatif. Sedangkan data didapatkan melalui wawancara dan dokumentasi. Penelitian ini menyimpulkan bahwa Al-Mumtaz Peduli memandang organisasi pengelola zakat yang lain adalah mitra, supaya dapat bersinergi dalam mengentaskan kemiskinan social problem. Al-Mumtaz fokus segmen layanannya pada anak yatim dan berharap setiap desa ada memiliki satu dai. Al-Mumtaz Peduli harus selalu melakukan sosialisasi, baik melalui seminar, media massa dan elektronik. Dalam hal pengumpulan dan penyaluran dana ZISWAF dan Al-Mumtaz selalu meningkatkan pelayanan kepada muzaki berbentuk laporan kegiatan dan keuangan berbentuk majalah yang disampaikan per tri wulan.

INTRODUCTION: Breast cancer is the first cancer of women in Burkina Faso. There remains a relatively late diagnosis and a reserved prognosis. The main aim of this study is to study the causes, therapeutic and prognostic impacts of late diagnosis of breast cancer at Yalgado Ouédraogo University Hospital. MATERIALS AND METHODS: This was a descriptive and prospective study from May 1st to October 31, 2013. The departments of surgery, gynecology and anatomy-pathology served as a framework for our study. All consenting breast cancer patients with a height greater than at least 5 cm (>T2), suspicious or metastatic satellite lymphadenopathy was included. The data analysis was done using Epi-info© software version 7.2.2.6, with the use of the Khi2, Fisher-exact and Student tests. RESULTS: We collected 70 patients with an average age of 46.1 years. In 95.7% of cases, our patients had consulted a traditional therapist or at least one medical center before being referred to the Yalgado Ouédraogo University Hospital. The consultation was less than 6 months in 52.9% of cases. Diagnostic time was statistically associated with source and monthly income with a p-value of 0.03 and 0.05 respectively. Stage III accounted for 62.8% of cases. Surgery was performed in 48.6% of cases, including 23.5% palliative surgery. Chemotherapy was neo-adjuvant in 22%, adjuvant in 48.8% and palliative in 14.6%. The average duration of follow-up was 2.7 months. We had found 20.6% of recidivism and 22% of deaths. CONCLUSION: Poverty, ignorance, socio-cultural constraints and lack of staff reduce patients' access to early diagnosis, which is responsible for expensive complex treatment and a poor prognosis. Equitable financial and geographic access will reduce diagnostic delays and mortality from breast cancer. KEYWORDS: Breast cancer; Late diagnosis; Causes; Treatment; Prognosis.

Purpose The purpose of this paper is to express the strategic positioning of a firm among its rivals based on an overall analysis. The proposed model uses data envelopment analysis (DEA) to determine the indexes due to cost leadership and differentiation. The model can be useful to identify the true cost leaders and those who are stuck in the middle. This work suggests the way how the strategic position can be explored from the consumption of resources (unlike the prevalent models like Banker et al., 2014). Design/methodology/approach Depending on the previous surveys, two inputs (spending per student and percentage of non-poor income group) and two outputs (average scores attained by students in science group and in language group in six private schools, located within the outskirt of Durgapur) were analyzed. Findings The classification made on the basis of the result of the proposed model reveals that out of the six schools (A, B, C, D, E and F), A, E and F occupy a strong position in this context, whereas B can be an example of stuck in the middle scenario. It not only has to reduce cost by 30 percent but also improve the differentiation index by 140 percent. C and D are lagging behind as they do not have enough differentiating qualities. Research limitations/implications Only six schools were taken for the analysis. Second, the input and output vectors had to be non-negative. In case of a negative input (output) set, separate treatment must be applied to them before the application of non-central PCA. Any decision-making unit producing an output of 0 will prohibit the use of the non-central PCA. Practical implications The extant study provides the indices to measure cost leadership and differentiation strategies for the classification as per the generic strategies. A firm which is lagging behind can adjust its consumption to remain successful. Social implications According to Hillman and Jenkner (2002), the developing countries lack the willingness of a primary school to impart education to children. The current study is used to explore whether any private primary school has the same goal or not. They also pointed out the possible future consequences while stating that the cost of educating children from the poorer section might be outweighed by the cost of not educating them and adults lacking basic skills had greater difficulty in finding well-paying jobs to escape poverty. So it is important to understand the role of a private primary school to offer seats to underprivileged students for educating them. The intention of six private primary schools toward educating the population of the small area within Durgapur is analyzed in this study, The study revealed that few schools spend more to serve the students belonging to upper classes to remain successful, whereas few schools as a differentiator make conscious attempts for providing services to poorer sections in an economical manner like a cost leader. Originality/value The extant research aims to formulate the determining methods of identifying strategic groups (proposed by Hunt, 1983) to make a parity between business definition view and strategic type concepts. The model can assess the rivals within an industry to explore the true cost leaders and those who are stuck in the middle using DEA. There are not enough kinds of literature which could effectively measure them.

Abstract Background: Despite its effectiveness in reducing breast cancer inequities, patient navigation (PN) is not accessible to all patients across the United States. To improve access, Susan G. Komen established a telehealth PN model, scaled to deliver PN services equitably across the country. Methods: Patients are referred to Komen patient navigators through Komen’s Helpline. Navigators conduct an initial distress screening and barrier assessment and create an individualized care plan. This information, recommended interventions, and other health data are documented, 62 days. Navigators communicate via the patient’s preferred method: phone, email, text, or video. A patient satisfaction survey is administered 30 days after the start of navigation. Results: From April 1, 2022, to March 31, 2023, 1,092 individuals were navigated. Navigation was provided throughout the continuum of care, including screening and diagnosis through treatment. Of the 3,064 barriers identified by patients, 63% were economic, 20% related to emotional health, 11% indicated lack of access to care and 6% related to care management. Eleven percent of individuals selected Spanish as their preferred language, 84% had a household income at or below 200% of the Federal Poverty Level and 24% were uninsured. Navigated individuals identified as: 46% Black or African American, 37% white or Caucasian, 20% Hispanic or Latino, 2% Asian, and 14% preferred not to answer. The average patient age was 54 years old, ranging from 20 to 101 years old. 588 patients identified as being diagnosed with breast cancer, with 69% diagnosed as early stage (Stage 0-III), 22% as metastatic (Stage IV), and 8% undesignated. Distress screening is administered, within the domains established by the National Comprehensive Cancer Network, at intake, major transitions in care and end of navigation. Average distress across all domains was 6.1 on an 11-point scale at first observation (a score of 10 indicating the highest level of distress). Financial distress was the highest average (7.5) followed by emotional distress (6.6). During navigation enrollment, financial distress decreased 14% and emotional distress decreased 14%. Survey respondents reported: the Komen navigation program helped them: follow their treatment plan (91%), will help them continue their care (92%), feel more prepared to talk with their care team (91%), to be able to get care faster (88%), and improve their quality of life (91%). Conclusion: Distress screening was developed for a clinical setting with in-network medical and mental health providers. This program’s demonstrates distress screening can be adapted for use in a non-clinical, virtual setting. Socioeconomic, survey, and distress data indicate Komen’s model succeeded in reaching people that research shows have numerous barriers to breast health services and cancer care, and overcome the most common barriers, thus improving access to timely, high-quality care. Opportunities for program improvement include: -To improve support for those experiencing high emotional distress, additional training in emotional support is being incorporated into onboarding and Komen’s Navigation Training Program. - Research shows that navigation is most effective when delivered by someone who shares a lived experience, so the diversity of navigators is important. More bilingual navigators have been added to the program to better serve the Spanish-speaking population. - To improve support of those living with metastatic breast cancer seeking navigation support, Komen has launched a research study to identify the unique needs of patients living with MBC, and use this information to enhance navigation services. Citation Format: Julie McMahon, Shelby Lautner, Mandy Spadine, Toni Lee, Janet Okamoto. Effectiveness of Susan G. Komen’s national telehealth patient navigation model in reaching underserved populations and reducing cancer-related distress [abstract]. In: Proceedings of the 2023 San Antonio Breast Cancer Symposium; 2023 Dec 5-9; San Antonio, TX. Philadelphia (PA): AACR; Cancer Res 2024;84(9 Suppl):Abstract nr PO1-11-01.

RESUMO La Somalia lingvo kaj alfabetigo La 21-an de oktobro 1972, la dekdujara registaro de Somalio finis jam longan debaton kaj decidiĝis pri latina alfabeto por reprezenti la sonojn de la Somalia lingvo. Antaŭe, la somalian oni pludonis de generacio al generacio per buŝa tradicio sen skriba formo, dum la urbanigita, klera elito skribis angle, itale aŭ arabe. Plejparte la lando restis analfabeta je nivelo de 90% ĝis 95%. Post starigo de la oficiala ortografio, signifaj sanĝoj okazis en la lernejoj, kaj oni lancis nacian alfabetigan kampanjon, kiu atingis ankaŭ la somaliajn nomadojn. Mezlernejanoj fariĝis instruistoj en la servo de la stato, la amasmedioj prezentis specialajn programojn kaj lecionojn, anoj de la registaro kaj la armeo estis devigataj lerni la lingvon, kaj plenkreskula edukado trovis lokon en la eduka sistemo. Takso de la Somalia kleriga kampanjo prezentas varian bildon. Kvankam la registaro en Mogadiŝu pretendis 60-procentan alfabetecon post la kampanjo de la mezaj 70-aj jaroj, tiu cifero estas pridubinda, kaj pli aktualaj studoj sugestas, ke la nuna alfabeteco povus esti ne pli ol 30 % . Tamen, tiu cifero altas en Afriko, kaj konsistigas signifan atingon en nomada socio plagumita laŭvice de sekeco, malrico kaj militaj konfliktoj. Nedisputata estas la sukcesa konverto de la lernejoj, de la elementa nivelo gis la Nacia Universitato, al la Somalia lingvo kiel instrumedio, cio ci kun signifa kresko de la nombro de lernejanoj. En la skribo de la lingvo, somaliaj ortografoj liveris la rimedojn, per kiuj lingvo bazita je paŝta vortaro povus esti vastigita por plenumi la lingvajn bezonojn de moderniĝanta socio. Tion ili faris ĉefe per ekspluato de la apartaj strukturo kaj dinamismo de la somalia. Krome, la Somalia "literaturo," precipe la poezio, estis nun transdonebla en skriba formo, tiel garantiante pliajn generaciojn de pluvivo. Certe, la Somalia sperto estas unika. Tamen, ĝi proponas valorajn enrigardojn en ling-voinstruadon kaj alfabetigon en ĉiuj kulturoj, emfazante la gravecon de forta registara engaĝiĝo, uzo de la amasmedio, starigo de alfabetiga korpuso, utiligo de arta esprimiĝo, kaj rekono de ortografio kiel ŝlosila elemento en lernado. SOMMARIO Lingua ed alfabetismo somalesi Il 21 Ottobre del 1972, il giovane governo somalese, al potere da solo 12 anni, ha risolto un dibatito interminabile; cioè, il governo decise di adoperare grafemi latini per rap-presentare fonemi somalesi. Generazioni anterior tramandavano la loro lingua oralmente, mentre l'elite della nazione si serviva dell'inglese, dell'italiano o dell'arabo per le loro co-municazioni scritte. Per il resto del paese il tasso dell'analfabetismo toccava dal 90 al 95 per cento della popolazione. Stabilità l'ortografia ufficiale, cambiamenti di maggior peso si sono introdotti nelle scuole ed una lotta contro l'analfabetismo si e lanciata, arrolgendo tutti i ceti sociali, anche quello nomade. Studenti di liceo diventarono insegnanti, i mass media presentarono pro-grammi e lezioni particolari, impiegati statali e dipendenti militari furono costretti ad im-parare la lingua e scuole per adulti si formarono in tutto il paese. Una valutazione di questi sforzi svolti dalle autorità somalesi nella loro lotta contro l'analfabetismo ci rende risultati ambigui. Benchè il governo centrale abbia rivendicato che l'alfabetismo sia salito a circa 60 per cento dopo la suddetta campagna alla meta degli anni settanta, le cifre sono state contestate da critici competenti e ricerche recenti suggeriscono che l'attuale tasso di alfabetismo sfiori il 30 per cento. Nonostante ciò, il tasso e segnalatamente elevato quando lo si paragona con altri paesi africani. In somma, l'ultima cifra mostra chiaramente un notevole successo, particolarmente se si rende conto che quella società nomade era nel contempo afflitta da povertà perenne, lotte intestine continue, e da una seccita durante decenni. In oltre, nessuno, nemmeno i più accaniti critici, può mettere in dubbio ne'lla riuscita inserzione della lingua nazionale a tutti i livelli dell'insegnamento, dalle scuole elementari fino all'università, né l'aumento cospicuo delle matricolazioni. Nello scrivere della loro lingua, gli ortografi somalesi hanno saputo sfruttare gli elementi strutturali e dinamici della lingua nazionale, fornendo mezzi con cui trasformare una lingua fondamentalmente nomade e pastorale. Per runderla più risponsiva ai bisogni di una società in via di trasformazione. Altro fatto notevole è che la letteratura di questo popolo, particolarmente la sua poesia, fin allera tramandata oralmente, oggi e documen-tata, così assicurandosi la sopravvivenza fra generazioni futuri. L'esperienza somalese ci può sembrare un caso unico, ma, infatti, ci presenta con alcuni informazioni pregeroli sull'insegnamento e la diffusione di una lingua. Mette in rilievo l'importanza dell'impegnamento decisivo di un governo, lo sfruttamento utile e sagace dei mass media e quello d'un corpo d'insegnanti, l'uso didattico dell'espressività artistica, e in fine, Fimpostazione di uno standard ortografico—tutti funzioni essenziali per Finsegnamento e Fapprendimento in qualunque centesto culturale.

The missional church in communities in informal settlements. Mission in informal settlements faces huge challenges, which include poor living conditions and structures, lack of infrastructure and medical facilities, extreme poverty, illnesses, criminality, youth subcultures, et cetera. Massive urbanisation plays an important role in this regard. From the missio Dei perspective the missional church should view the communities with a holistic approach. Missio Dei means that the living God sends his Son to the world in need so that the church, through the Holy Spirit, can become a mission church. The glory of Jesus Christ is central in the proclamation of this message and transcendence should be acknowledged in mission. The living church will emphasise and live out kerugma, diakonia, marturia, koinonia and leiturgia. Much attention will be given to Christian hope to empower communities who live under dire circumstances. Love and justice will also be emphasised. Only when the missional church becomes a true living church can the full community be served.

In the Southern California desert, the Salton Sea is the cause of a local socioenvironmental crisis reflective of various environmental injustices. Today’s Salton Sea is fed primarily through agricultural water run-off and effluent discharge. Over 23% of the Latinx and Torres Martinez Desert Cahuilla Indian identifying residents live below the poverty line in the two zip codes north of the sea (US Census Bureau, 2021). Persistent droughts and inequitable policies have accelerated the sea’s evaporation, exacerbating environmental health problems such as poor air quality and respiratory illnesses like asthma (Farzan et al., 2019). Since 2010, nonprofit organizations such as Alianza Coachella Valley (hereafter referred to as Alianza) have been addressing these issues and campaigning for economic and environmental justice in the Eastern Coachella Valley (ECV). Prior to this work, no reliable and continuous source of water quality information was easily accessible to local communities. Most recently, Alianza championed a community science initiative with the goal of establishing ongoing environmental monitoring, research, and advocacy. Through this initiative, community members formed the Salton Sea Environmental Time Series (SSET) in 2021 with support from the American Geophysical Union’s (AGU’s) Thriving Earth Exchange program. This collaboration, along with a variety of other institutions, has fostered diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) within scientific academia for underrepresented ECV scholars and can serve as a blueprint for future initiatives.

Abstract Disclosure: A.L. Messersmith: None. E. Piervil: None. R. Meadows: None. K. Patel: None. E. Griffin: None. Diabetes disproportionately impacts racial/ethnic minorities. According to 2017-2020 National Health and Nutrition Surveys (NHANES) data, prevalence of diabetes was greater among black non-Hispanic, Asian non-Hispanic, and Hispanic populations compared to white non-Hispanic (Prevalence of Both Diagnosed, 2022). Acculturation, the process by which an individual integrates the attitudes, values, beliefs, and behaviors of a different culture, has also been associated with diabetes (Allen, 2014; O'Brien, 2014). This study incorporates 2013-2018 NHANES data to assess the association between acculturation and diabetes management. Country of birth, years living in the U.S., and primary language spoken at home will serve as proxies for acculturation. This study includes 2,442 individuals who were ever told by a doctor or health professional that they had diabetes (gestational diabetes excluded) with 784 of these participants born outside the U.S. Comparatively 492 individuals with no known history of diabetes had lab results drawn during the NHANES survey supporting newly diagnosed diabetes (A1c ≥6.5), 213 of whom were immigrants. Socioeconomic status and access to health care and health insurance are factors that likely mediate the relationship between acculturation and diabetes control. Initial data analysis found 38% of immigrants with laboratory and/or health professional diagnosed diabetes lived below the poverty level compared to 20% of U.S.-born individuals. Health insurance coverage was 81% among immigrants compared to 92% among U.S.-born individuals. This study will utilize logistic regression to explore the association between acculturation and diabetes. Compliance of individuals living with diabetes to American Diabetes Association screening recommendations will be assessed. Descriptive statistics will be summarized and include demographics, comorbid diseases, body mass index (BMI), cumulative years with diagnosed diabetes, insulin and/or oral antihyperglycemic diabetes therapy, insurance coverage, and frequency of doctor visit(s). References: Allen JD, Caspi C, Yang M, Leyva B, Stoddard AM, Tamers S, et al. Pathways between acculturation and health behaviors among residents of low-income housing: The mediating role of social and contextual factors. Social Science & Medicine. 2014 Dec 1;123:26-36. O’Brien MJ, Alos VA, Davey A, Bueno A, Whitaker RC. Acculturation and the prevalence of diabetes in US Latino Adults, National Health and Nutrition Examination Survey 2007-2010. Prev Chronic Dis. 2014 Oct 9;11:E176. Prevalence of Both Diagnosed and Undiagnosed Diabetes | Diabetes | CDC [Internet]. 2022 [cited 2022 Dec 28]. Available from: https://www.cdc.gov/diabetes/data/statistics-report/diagnosed-undiagnosed-diabetes.html Presentation: Friday, June 16, 2023

IntroductionIn Britain, hunger is often hidden in the privacy of the home. Yet otherwise private hunger is currently being rendered public and visible in the growing queues at charity-run food banks, where emergency food parcels are distributed directly to those who cannot afford to feed themselves or their families adequately (Downing et al.; Caplan). Food banks, in providing emergency relief to those in need, are responses to crisis moments, actualised through an embodied feeling of hunger that cannot be alleviated. The growing queues at food banks not only render hidden hunger visible, but also serve as reminders of the corporeal vulnerability of the human body to political and socio-economic shifts.A consideration of corporeality allows us to view the world through the lived experiences of the body. Human beings are “creatures of the flesh” who understand and reason, act and interact with their environments through the body (Johnson 81). The growing academic interest in corporeality signifies what Judith Butler calls a “new bodily ontology” (2). However, as Butler highlights, the body is also vulnerable to injury and suffering. An application of this ontology to hunger draws attention to eating as essential to life, so the denial of food poses an existential threat to health and ultimately to survival. The body’s response to threat is the physiological experience of hunger as a craving or longing that is the “most bodily experience of need […] a visceral desire locatable in a void” in which an empty stomach “initiates” a series of sounds and pangs that “call for action” in the form of eating (Anderson 27). Food bank queues serve as visible public reminders of this precariousness and of how social conditions can limit the ability of individuals to feed themselves, and so respond to an existential threat.Corporeal vulnerability made visible elicits responses that support societal interventions to feed the hungry, or that stigmatise hungry people by withdrawing or disparaging what limited support is available. Responses to vulnerability therefore evoke nurture and care or violence and abuse, and so in this sense are ambiguous (Butler; Cavarero). The responses are also normative, shaped by social and cultural understandings of what hunger is, what its causes are, and whether it is seen as originating in personal or societal failings. The stigmatising of individuals by blaming them for their hunger is closely allied to the feelings of shame that lie at the “irreducible absolutist core” of the idea of poverty (Sen 159). Shame is where the “internally felt inadequacies” of the impoverished individual and the “externally inflicted judgments” of society about the hungry body come together in a “co-construction of shame” (Walker et al. 5) that is a key part of the lived experience of hunger. The experience of shame, while common, is far from inevitable and is open to resistance (see Pickett; Foucault); shame can be subverted, turned from the hungry body and onto the society that allows hunger to happen. Who and what are deemed responsible are shaped by shifting ideas and contested understandings of hunger at a particular moment in time (Vernon).This exploration of corporeal vulnerability through food banks as a historically located response to hunger offers an alternative to studies which privilege representations, objectifying the body and “treating it as a discursive, textual, iconographic and metaphorical reality” while neglecting understandings derived from lived experiences and the responses that visible vulnerabilities elicit (Hamilakis 99). The argument made in this paper calls for a critical reconsideration of classic political economy approaches that view hunger in terms of a class struggle against the material conditions that give rise to it, and responses that ultimately led to the construction of the welfare state (Vernon). These political economy approaches, in focusing on the structures that lead to hunger and that respond to it, are more closed than Butler’s notion of ambiguous and constantly changing social responses to corporeal vulnerability. This paper also challenges the dominant tradition of nutrition science, which medicalises hunger. While nutrition science usefully draws attention to the physiological experiences and existential threat posed by acute hunger, the scientific focus on the “anatomical functioning” of the body and the optimising of survival problematically separates eating from the social contexts in which hunger is experienced (Lupton 11, 12; Abbots and Lavis). The focus in this article on the corporeal vulnerability of hunger interweaves contested representations of, and ideas about, hunger with the physiological experience of it, the material conditions that shape it, and the lived experiences of deprivation. Food banks offer a lens onto these experiences and their complexities.Food Banks: Deprivation Made VisibleSince the 1980s, food banks have become the fastest growing charitable organisations in the wealthiest countries of North America, Europe, and Australasia (Riches), but in Britain they are a recent phenomenon. The first opened in 2000, and by 2014, the largest operator, the Trussell Trust, had over 420 franchised food banks, and more recently was opening more than one per week (Lambie-Mumford et al.; Lambie-Mumford and Dowler). British food banks hand out emergency food relief directly to those who cannot afford to feed themselves or their families adequately, and have become new sites where deprivation is materialised through a congregation of hungry people and the distribution of food parcels. The food relief parcels are intended as short-term immediate responses to crisis moments felt within the body when the individual cannot alleviate hunger through their own resources; they are for “emergency use only” to ameliorate individual crisis and acute vulnerability, and are not intended as long-term solutions to sustained, chronic poverty (Perry et al.). The need for food banks has emerged with the continued shrinkage of the welfare state, which for the past half century sought to mediate the impact of changing individual and social circumstances on those deemed to be most vulnerable to the vicissitudes of life. The proliferation of food banks since the 2009 financial crisis and the increased public discourse about them has normalised their presence and naturalised their role in alleviating acute food poverty (Perry et al.).Media images of food bank queues and stacks of tins waiting to be handed out (Glaze; Gore) evoke collective memories from the early twentieth century of hunger marches in protest at government inaction over poverty, long queues at soup kitchens, and the faces of gaunt, unemployed war veterans (Vernon). After the Second World War, the spectre of communism and the expansionist agenda of the Soviet Union meant such images of hunger could become tools in a propaganda war constructed around the failure of the British state to care for its citizens (Field; Clarke et al; Vernon). The 1945 Labour government, elected on a social democratic agenda of reform in an era of food rationing, responded with a “war on want” based on the normative premise that no one should be without food, medical care, shelter, warmth or work. Labour’s response was the construction of the modern welfare state.The welfare state signified a major shift in ideational understandings of hunger. In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, ideas about hunger had been rooted in a moralistic account of divine punishment for individual failure (Vernon). Bodily experiences of hunger were seen as instruments for disciplining the indigent into a work ethic appropriate for a modern industrialised economy. The infamous workhouses, finally abolished in 1948, were key sites of deprivation where restrictions on how much food was distributed served to punish or discipline the hungry body into compliance with the dominant work ethic (Vernon; Foucault). However, these ideas shifted in the second half of the nineteenth century as the hungry citizen in Britain (if not in its colonies) was increasingly viewed as a victim of wider forces beyond the control of the individual, and the notion of disciplining the hungry body in workhouses was seen as reprehensible. A humanitarian treatment of hunger replaced a disciplinarian one as a more appropriate response to acute need (Shaw; Vernon). Charitable and reformist organisations proliferated with an agenda to feed, clothe, house, and campaign on behalf of those most deprived, and civil society largely assumed responsibility for those unable to feed themselves. By the early 1900s, ideas about hunger had begun to shift again, and after the Second World War ideational changes were formalised in the welfare state, premised on a view of hunger as due to structural rather than individual failure, hence the need for state intervention encapsulated in the “cradle to grave” mantra of the welfare state, i.e. of consistent care at the point of need for all citizens for their lifetime (see Clarke and Newman; Field; Powell). In this context, the suggestion that Britons could go to bed hungry because they could not afford to feed themselves would be seen as the failure of the “war on want” and of an advanced modern democracy to fulfil its responsibilities for the welfare of its citizens.Since the 1980s, there has been a retreat from these ideas. Successive governments have sought to rein in, reinvent or shrink what they have perceived as a “bloated” welfare state. In their view this has incentivised “dependency” by providing benefits so generous that the supposedly work-shy or “skivers” have no need to seek employment and can fund a diet of takeaways and luxury televisions (Howarth). These stigmatising ideas have, since the 2009 financial crisis and the 2010 election, become more entrenched as the Conservative-led government has sought to renew a neo-liberal agenda to shrink the welfare state, and legitimise a new mantra of austerity. This mantra is premised on the idea that the state can no longer afford the bloated welfare budget, that responsible government needs to “wean” people off benefits, and that sanctions imposed for not seeking work or for incorrectly filling in benefit claim forms serve to “encourage” people into work. Critics counter-argue that the punitive nature of sanctions has exacerbated deprivation and contributed to the growing use of food banks, a view the government disputes (Howarth; Caplan).Food Banks as Sites of Vulnerable CorporealityIn these shifting contexts, food banks have proliferated not only as sites of deprivation but also as sites of vulnerable corporeality, where people unable to draw on individual resources to respond to hunger congregate in search of social and material support. As growing numbers of people in Britain find themselves in this situation, the vulnerable corporeality of the hungry body becomes more pervasive and more visible. Hunger as a lived experience is laid bare in ever-longer food bank queues and also through the physiological, emotional and social consequences graphically described in personal blogs and in the testimonies of food bank users.Blogger Jack Monroe, for example, has recounted giving what little food she had to her child and going to bed hungry with a pot of ginger tea to “ease the stomach pains”; saying to her curious child “I’m not hungry,” while “the rumblings of my stomach call me a liar” (Monroe, Hunger Hurts). She has also written that her recourse to food banks started with the “terrifying and humiliating” admission that “you cannot afford to feed your child” and has expressed her reluctance to solicit the help of the food bank because “it feels like begging” (Monroe, Austerity Works?). Such blog accounts are corroborated in reports by food bank operators and a parliamentary enquiry which told stories of mothers not eating for days after being sanctioned under the benefit system; of children going to school hungry; of people leaving hospital after a major operation unable to feed themselves since their benefits have been cut; of the elderly having to make “hard choices” between “heat or eat” each winter; and of mixed feelings of relief and shame at receiving food bank parcels (All-Party Parliamentary Inquiry; Beattie; Cooper and Dumpleton; Caplan; Perry et al.). That is, two different visibilities have emerged: the shame of standing or being seen to stand in the food bank queue, and blogs that describe these feelings and the lived experience of hunger – both are vulnerable and visible, but in different ways and in different spaces: the physical or material, and the virtual.The response of doctors to the growing evidence of crisis was to warn that there were “all the signs of a public health emergency that could go unrecognised until it is too late to take preventative action,” that progress made against food poverty since the 1960s was being eroded (Ashton et al. 1631), and that the “robust last line of defence against hunger” provided by the welfare state was failing (Loopstra et al. n.p). Medical professionals thus sought to conscript the rhetorical resources of their professional credibility to highlight that this is a politically created public health crisis.This is not to suggest that acute hunger was absent for 50 years of the welfare state, but that with the closure of the last workhouses, the end of hunger marches, and the shutting of the soup kitchens by the 1950s, it became less visible. Over the past decade, hunger has become more visible in images of growing queues at food banks and stacked tins ready to be handed out by volunteers (Glaze; Gore) on production of a voucher provided on referral by professionals. Doctors, social workers or teachers are therefore tasked with discerning cases of need, deciding whose need is “genuine” and so worthy of food relief (see Downing et al.). The voucher system is regulated by professionals so that food banks are open only to those with a public identity constructed around bodily crisis. The sense of something as intimate as hunger being defined by others contrasts to making visible one’s own hunger through blogging. It suggests again how bodies become caught up in wider political struggles where not only is shame a co-construction of internal inadequacies and external judgements, but so too is hunger, albeit in different yet interweaving ways. New boundaries are being established between those who are deprived and those who are not, and also between those whose bodies are in short-term acute crisis, and those whose bodies are in long-term and chronic crisis, which is not deemed to be an emergency. It is in this context that food banks have also become sites of demarcation, shame, and contestation.Public debates about growing food bank queues highlight the ambiguous nature of societal responses to the vulnerability of hunger made visible. Government ministers have intensified internal shame in attributing growing food bank queues to individual inadequacies, failure to manage household budgets (Gove), and profligate spending on luxury (Johnston; Shipton). Civil society organisations have contested this account of hunger, turning shame away from the individual and onto the government. Austerity reforms have, they argue, “torn apart” the “basic safety net” of social responses to corporeal vulnerability put in place after the Second World War and intended to ensure that no-one was left hungry or destitute (Bingham), their vulnerability unattended to. Furthermore, the benefit sanctions impose punitive measures that leave families with “nothing” to live on for weeks. Hungry citizens, confronted with their own corporeal vulnerability and little choice but to seek relief from food banks, echo the Dickensian era of the workhouse (Cooper and Dumpleton) and indict the UK government response to poverty. Church leaders have called on the government to exercise “moral duty” and recognise the “acute moral imperative to act” to alleviate the suffering of the hungry body (Beattie; see also Bingham), and respond ethically to corporeal vulnerability with social policies that address unmet need for food. However, future cuts to welfare benefits mean the need for relief is likely to intensify.ConclusionThe aim of this paper was to explore the vulnerable corporeality of hunger through the lens of food banks, the twenty-first-century manifestations of charitable responses to acute need. Food banks have emerged in a gap between the renewal of a neo-liberal agenda of prudent government spending and the retreat of the welfare state, between struggles over resurgent ideas about individual responsibility and deep disquiet about wider social responsibilities. Food banks as sites of deprivation, in drawing attention to a newly vulnerable corporeality, potentially pose a threat to the moral credibility of the neo-liberal state. The threat is highlighted when the taboo of a hungry body, previously hidden because of shame, is being challenged by two new visibilities, that of food bank queues and the commentaries on blogs about the shame of having to queue for food.ReferencesAbbots, Emma-Jayne, and Anna Lavis. Eds. Why We Eat, How We Eat: Contemporary Encounters between Foods and Bodies. Farnham: Ashgate, 2013.All-Party Parliamentary Inquiry. “Feeding Britain.” 2014. 6 Jan. 2016 <https://foodpovertyinquiry.files.wordpress.com/2014/12/food>.Anderson, Patrick. “So Much Wasted:” Hunger, Performance, and the Morbidity of Resistance. 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Introduction Taste is considered a gustatory and physiological sense. It is also something that can be developed over time. In Bourdieu’s work taste is a matter of distinction, and a means of drawing boundaries between groups about what constitutes “good” taste. In this context it is necessary to perform or display tastes over and over again. This then becomes part of a cultural habitus, a code that can be read and understood. In the field of “feeding the family” (DeVault) for respondents in my study, healthy food prepared from scratch became the symbol of appropriate mothering, a means of demonstrating a middle class habitus, distinction, and taste. I use the term “family foodways” to emphasize how feeding the family encapsulates more than buying, preparing, cooking, and serving food, it incorporates the ways in which families practice, perform, and “do” family food. These family foodways are about the family of today, as well as an investment in the family of the future, through the reproduction and reinforcement of cultural values and tastes around food. In the UK, there are divisions between what might be considered appropriate and inappropriate family foodways, and a vilification of alternatives that lack time and effort. Warde identifies four antinomies of taste used by advertisers in the marketing of food: “novelty and tradition,” “health and indulgence,” “economy and extravagance,” and “convenience and care” (174). In relation to family foodways, there are inherent tensions in these antinomies, and for mothers in my study in order to demonstrate “care”, it was necessary to eschew “convenience.” Indeed, the time and effort involved in feeding the family healthy meals prepared from scratch becomes an important symbol of middle class taste and investment in the future. The alternative can be illustrated by reference to the media furore around Jamie Oliver’s comments in a Radio Times interview (that coincided with a TV series and book launch) in which Deans quotes Oliver: "You might remember that scene in [a previous series] of Ministry of Food, with the mum and the kid eating chips and cheese out of Styrofoam containers, and behind them is a massive f****** TV.” Oliver uses cultural markers of taste to highlight how “mum” was breaking the rules and conventions associated with appropriate or aspirational class based family foodways. We assume that the “mum and kid” were using their fingers, and not a knife and fork, and that the meal was not on a plate around a table but instead eaten in front of a “massive f****** TV.” Oliver uses these cultural markers of taste and distinction to commit acts of symbolic violence, defined by Bourdieu and Wacquant, as “the violence which is exercised upon a social agent with his or her complicity” (67), to confer judgement and moral approbation regarding family foodways. In this example, a lack of time and effort is associated with a lack of taste. And although this can be linked with poverty, this is not about a lack of money, as the mother and child are eating in front of a big television. Oliver is therefore drawing attention to how family foodways become cultural markers of taste and distinction. I argue that appropriate family foodways have become significant markers of taste, and draw on qualitative data to emphasise how respondents use these to position themselves as “good” mothers. Indeed, the manner of presenting, serving, and eating food fulfils the social function of legitimising social difference (Bourdieu 6). Indeed, Bourdieu claims that mothers are significant as the convertors of economic capital into cultural capital for their children; they are “sign bearing” carriers of taste (Skeggs 22). In taking time to prepare healthy meals from scratch, sourcing organic and/or local ingredients, accommodating each individual household members food preferences or individual health needs, being able to afford to waste food, to take time over the preparation, and eating of a meal around the table together, are all aspects of an aspirational model of feeding the family. This type of intensive effort around feeding becomes a legitimate means of demonstrating cultural distinction and taste. Research Background This paper draws on data from a qualitative study conducted over nine months in 2011. I carried out a series of asynchronous on-line interviews with seventy-five mostly middle class women and men between the ages of twenty-seven and eighty-five. One third of the respondents were male. Two thirds were parents at different stages in the life course, from those who were new to parenting to grand parents. There was also a range of family types including lone parents, and co-habiting and married couples with children (and step-children). The focus of the inquiry was food over the life course and respondents were invited to write their own autobiographical food narratives. Once respondents agreed to participate, I wrote to them: What I’m really after is your “food story.” Perhaps, this will include your earliest food memories, favourite foods, memorable food occasions, whether your eating habits have changed over time and why this may be. Also, absolutely anything food related that you'd like to share with me. For some, if this proved difficult, we engaged in an on-line interview in which I asked a series of questions centred on how they developed their own eating and cooking habits. I did not set out to question respondents specifically about “healthy” or “unhealthy” foodways and did not mention these terms at all. It was very much an open invitation for them to tell their stories in their words and on their terms. It was the common vocabularies (Mills) across the narratives that I was looking to discover, rather than directing these vocabularies in any particular way. I conducted several levels of analysis on the data and identified four themes on the family, health, the body, and the foodie. This discussion is based on the narratives I identified within the family theme. A Taste for “Healthy” Family Foodways When setting out on this research journey, I anticipated a considerable shift in gender roles within the home and a negotiated family model in which “everything could be negotiated” (Beck and Beck-Gernsheim xxi), especially “feeding the family” (De-Vault). Considering the rise of male celebrity chefs such as Jamie Oliver and the development of a distinct foodie identity (Naccarato and LeBesco, Johnston and Baumann, Cairns et al.), I envisaged that men would be more likely to take on this role. Given women’s roles outside the home, I also envisaged the use of convenience food, ready meals, and take-away food. However, what emerged was that women were highly resistant to any notion of relinquishing the responsibility for “feeding the family” (DeVault). Indeed, the women who were parents were keen to demonstrate how they engaged in preparing healthy, home-cooked meals from scratch for their families, despite having working identities. This commitment to healthy family foodways was used as a means of aligning themselves with an intensive mothering ideology (Hays) and to distance themselves from the alternative. It was a means of drawing distinctions and symbolising taste. When it comes to feeding the family, the “symbolic violence” (Bourdieu and Wacquant 167) afforded to mothers who transgress the boundaries of appropriate mothering by feeding their children unhealthy and/or convenience food, meant that mothers in my study only fed their children healthy food. It would be inconceivable for them to admit to anything else. This I consider a consequence of dualist and absolutist approaches to food and foodways, whereby “convenience” food continues to be demonised in family food discourses because it symbolises “lack” on many levels, specifically a lack of care and a lack of taste. This was not something I had anticipated at the beginning of the study; that mothers would not use convenience food and only prepared “healthy” meals was a surprise. This is indicative of the power of healthy food discourses and inappropriate family foodways, as symbolised by the mum feeding her kid “cheese and chips out of a Styrofoam container,” in informing respondents’ food narratives. I gained full ethical approval from my university and all respondents were given pseudonyms. The quotes I use here are taken from the narratives within the family theme and are representative of this theme. I cannot include all respondents’ narratives. I include quotes from Faye, a forty-six year-old Secretary married with one child; Laura, a thirty-five year-old Teaching Assistant, married with two children; Zoe, a forty-four year-old Recruiter, married with two children; Gaby, a fifty-one year old Architect Designer, married with two children; Ophelia, a fifty-three year-old Author, married with two children; Valerie, a forty-six year-old Website Manager, single with one child; and Chloe, a forty-six year old Occupational Health Sex Advisor, co-habiting with two children at home. Cooking “proper” healthy family meals is a skilled practice (Short) and a significant aspect of meaningful family-integration (Moiso et al.). It has symbolic and cultural capital and is indicative of a particular middle class habitus and this relates to taste in its broadest sense. Hence, Faye writes: My mum was a fabulous, creative cook; she loved reading cookery books and took great pride in her cooking. We didn't have a lot of money when we were young, but my mum was a very creative cook and every meal was completely delicious and homemade. Faye, despite working herself, and in common with many women juggling the second shift (Hochschild and Machung), is solely responsible for feeding her family. Indeed, Faye’s comments are strikingly similar to those in DeVault’s research carried out over twenty years ago; one of DeVault’s participants was quoted as saying that, “as soon as I get up on the morning or before I go to bed I’m thinking of what we’re going to eat tomorrow” (56). It is significant that cultural changes in the twenty years since DeVaults’ study were not reflected in respondents’ narratives. Despite women working outside of the home, men moving into the kitchen, and easy access to a whole range of convenience foods, women in my study adhered to “healthy” family foodways as markers of taste and distinction. Two decades later, Faye comments: Oh my goodness! I wake up each morning and the first thing I think about is what are we going to have for supper! It's such a drag, as I can never think of anything new or inspirational, despite the fact that we have lots of lovely cookery books! In many ways, these comments serve to reinforce further the status of “feeding the family” (DeVault) as central to maternal identity and part of delineating distinction and taste. Faye, in contrast to her own mother, has the additional pressure of having to cook new and inspirational food. Indeed, if preparing and purchasing food for herself or her family, Faye writes: I would make a packed lunch of something I really enjoyed eating, that's healthy, balanced and nutritious, with a little treat tucked in! […] I just buy things that are healthy and nutritious and things that might be interesting to appear in [my daughter’s] daily lunch box! However, by “just buying things that are healthy”, Faye is contributing to the notion that feeding the family healthily is easy, natural, care work and part of a particular middle class habitus. Again, this is part of what distinguishes cultural approaches to family foodways. Health and healthiness are part of a neo-liberal approach that is about a taste for the future. It is not about instant gratification, but about safeguarding health. Faye positions herself as the “guardian of health” (Beagan et al. 662). This demonstrates the extent to which the caringscape and healthscape can be intertwined (McKie et al.), as well as how health discourses seep into family foodways, whereby a “good mother” ensures the health of her children through cooking/providing healthy food or by being engaged in emotion (food) work. Faye reiterates this by writing, “if I have time [my cooking skills] […] are very good, if I don't they are rumbled together! But everything I cook is cooked with love!” Hence, this emotion work is not considered work at all, but an expression of love. Hence, in terms of distinction and taste, even when cooking is rushed it is conceptualised in the context of being prepared with love, in opposition to the cultural symbol of the mother and child “eating cheese and chips out of a Styrofoam container.” Convenience “Lacks” Taste In the context of Warde’s care and convenience antinomy, food associated with convenience is considered inappropriate. Cooking a family meal from scratch demonstrates care, convenience food for mothers symbolises “lack” on many levels. This lack of care is interwoven into a symbolic capital that supposes a lack of time, education, cultural capital, economic capital, and therefore a lack of taste. Hence, Laura writes: We never buy cakes and eat very few convenience foods, apart from the odd fish finger in a wrap, or a tin of beans. Ready meals and oven chips don’t appeal to me and I want my kids to grow up eating real food. It is notable that Laura makes the distinction between convenience and “real” food. Similarly, Zoe claims: We eat good interesting food every day at home and a takeaway once in a blue moon (2–3 times a year). Ready meals are unheard of here and we eat out sometimes (once a month). In Gaby’s account she makes reference to: “junk food, synthetic food and really overly creamy/stodgy cheap calorie foods” and claims that this kind of food makes her feel “revolted.” In James’s research she makes connections between “junk food” and “junk families.” In Gaby’s account she has a corporeal reaction to the thought of the type of food associated with cheapness and convenience. Ophelia notes that: After 15 years of daily cooking for my family I have become much more confident and proficient in food and what it really means. Today I balance the weekly meals between vegetarian, pasta, fish and meat and we have a lot of salad. I have been trying to cook less meat, maybe twice or sometimes including a roast at weekends, three times a week. Teens need carbs so I cook them most evenings but I don’t eat carbs myself in the evening now unless it’s a pasta dish we are all sharing. Here, Ophelia is highlighting the balance between her desires and the nutritional needs of her children. The work of feeding the family is complex and incorporates a balance of different requirements. The need to display appropriate mothering through feeding the family healthy meals cooked from scratch, was especially pertinent for women working and living on their own with children, such as Valerie: I am also responsible for feeding my daughter […] I make a great effort to make sure she is getting a balanced diet. To this end I nearly always cook meals from scratch. I use meal planners to get organised. I also have to budget quite tightly and meal planning helps with this. I aim to ensure we eat fish a couple of times a week, chicken a couple of times of week, red meat maybe once or twice and vegetarian once or twice a week. We always sit down to eat together at the table, even if it is just the two of us. It gives us a chance to talk and focus on each other. It is notable that Valerie insists that they sit down to eat at a table. This is a particular aspect of a middle class habitus and one that distinguishes Valerie’s family foodways from others, despite their low income. Hence, “proper” mothering is about cooking “proper” meals from scratch, even or perhaps especially if on a limited budget or having the sole responsibility for childcare. Chloe claims: I like to cook from scratch and meals can take time so I have to plan that around work [...] I use cookbooks for ideas for quick suppers [...] thinking about it I do spend quite a lot of time thinking about what I’m going to cook. I shop with meals in mind for each night of the week [...] this will depend on what’s available in the shops and what looks good, and then what time I get home. Here, food provision is ultimately tied up with class and status and again the provision of good “healthy” food is about good “healthy” parenting. It is about time and the lack of it. A lack of time due to having to work outside of the home and the lack of time to prepare or care about preparing healthy meals from scratch. Convenience food is clearly associated with low socio-economic status, a particular working class habitus and lack of care. Conclusion In an era of heightened neo-liberal individualism, there was little evidence of a “negotiated family model” (Beck and Beck-Gernsheim) within respondents’ narratives. Mothers in my study went to great lengths to emphasise that they fed their children “healthy” food prepared from scratch. Feeding the family is a central aspect of maternal identity, with intensive mothering practices (Hays) associated with elite cultural capital and a means of drawing distinctions between groups. Hence, despite working full time or part time, the blurring of boundaries between home and work, and the easy availability of convenience foods, ready-meals, and take-away food, women in my study were committed to feeding the family healthy meals cooked from scratch as a means of differentiating their family foodways from others. Dualist and absolutist approaches to food and foodways means that unhealthy and convenience food and foodways are demonised. They are derided and considered indicative of lack on many levels, especially in terms of lacking taste in its broadest sense. Unhealthy or convenient family foodways are associated with “other” (working class) mothering practices, whereby a lack of care indicates a lack of education, time, money, cultural capital, and taste. There are rigid cultural scripts of mothering, especially for middle class mothers concerned with distancing themselves from the symbol of the mum who feeds her children convenience food, or “cheese and chips out of Styrofoam containers in front of a f***ing big television.” References Beagan, Brenda, Gwen Chapman, Andrea D’Sylva, and Raewyn Bassett. “‘It’s Just Easier for Me to Do It’: Rationalizing the Family Division of Foodwork.” Sociology 42.4 (2008): 653–71. Beck, Ulrich, and Elisabeth Beck-Gernsheim. Individualization, Institutionalized Individualism and its Social and Political Consequences. London: Sage, 2002. Bourdieu, Pierre. Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste. London: Routledge, 1984. Bourdieu, Pierre, and Loïc Wacquant. An Invitation to Reflexive Sociology. Cambridge: Polity, 2002 [1992]. Cairns, Kate, Josée Johnston, and Shyon Baumann. “Caring about Food: Doing Gender in the Foodie Kitchen.” Gender and Society 24.5 (2010): 591–615. Deans, Jason. “Jamie Oliver Bemoans Chips, Cheese and Giant TVs of Modern-day Poverty.” The Guardian 27 Aug. 2013: 3. DeVault, Marjorie I. Feeding the Family. London: U of Chicago P., 1991. Hays, Sharon. The Cultural Contradictions of Motherhood. New Haven, CT: Yale UP, 1996. Hochschild, Arlie Russell, and Anne Machung, The Second Shift (2nd ed). London: Penguin Books, 2003. James, Allison. “Children’s Food: Reflections on Politics, Policy and Practices.” London: BSA Food Studies Conference, 2010. 3 Dec. 2013. ‹http://www.britsoc.co.uk/media/24962/AllisonJames.ppt‎›. James, Allison, Anne-Trine Kjørholt, and Vebjørg Tingstad. Eds. Children, Food and Identity in Everyday Life, London: Palgrave MacMillan, 2009. Johnston, Josée, and Shyon Baumann. Foodies, Democracy and Distinction in the Gourmet Kitchen. London: Routledge, 2010. McKie, Linda, Susan Gregory, and Sophia Bowlby. “Shadow Times: The Temporal and Spatial Frameworks and Experiences of Caring and Working.” Sociology 36.4 (2002): 897–924. Mills, Charles Wright. The Sociological Imagination. London: Penguin, 1959. Naccarato, Peter, and Kathleen LeBesco. Culinary Capital. London: Berg, 2012. Short, Frances. Kitchen Secrets: The Meaning of Cooking in Everyday Life. Oxford: Berg, 2006. Skeggs, Beverley. Class, Self and Culture. London: Routledge, 2004. Warde, Alan. Consumption, Food and Taste. London: Sage, 1997.

Introduction I have this somewhat diffuse concern that at some point, I am in an appointment procedure ... and people say: ‘He has to ... be on social media, [and] have followers ..., because otherwise he can’t say anything about the field of research, otherwise he won’t identify with it … and we need a direct connection to legitimise our discipline in the population!’ And this is where I think: ‘For God’s sake! No, I really don’t want that.’ (Postdoc) Social media such as Facebook or Twitter have become an integral part of many people’s everyday lives and have introduced severe changes to the ways we communicate with each other and about ourselves. Presenting ourselves on social media and creating different online personas has become a normal practice (Vorderer et al. 270). While social media such as Facebook were at first mostly used to communicate with friends and family, they were soon also used for work-related communication (Cardon and Marshall). Later, professional networks such as LinkedIn, which focus on working relations and career management and special interest networks, such as the academic social networking sites (ASNS) Academia.edu and ResearchGate, catering specifically to academic needs, emerged. Even though social media have been around for more than 15 years now, academics in general and German academics in particular are rather reluctant users of these tools in a work-related context (König and Nentwich 175; Lo 155; Pscheida et al. 1). This is surprising as studies indicate that the presence and positive self-portrayal of researchers in social media as well as the distribution of articles via social networks such as Academia.edu or ResearchGate have a positive effect on the visibility of academics as well as the likelihood of their articles being read and cited (Eysenbach; Lo 192; Terras). Gruzd, Staves, and Wilk even assume that the presence in online media could become a relevant criterion in the allocation of scientific jobs. Science is a field where competition for long-term positions is high. In 2017, only about 17% of all scientific personnel in Germany had permanent positions, and of these 10% were professors (Federal Statistical Office 32). Having a professorship is therefore the best shot at obtaining a permanent position in the scientific field. However, the average vocational age is 40 (Zimmer et al. 40), which leads to a long phase of career-related uncertainty. Directing attention to yourself by acquiring knowledge in the use of social media for professional self-representation might offer a career advantage when trying to obtain a professorship. At the same time, social media, which have been praised for giving a voice to the unheard, become a tool for the exclusion of scholars who might not want or be able to use these tools as part of their work and career-related communication, and might remain unseen and unheard. The author obtained current data on this topic while working on a project on Mediated Scholarly Communication in Post-Normal and Traditional Science under the project lead of Corinna Lüthje. The project was funded by the German Research Foundation (DFG). In the project, German-speaking scholars were interviewed about their work-related media usage in qualitative interviews. Among them were users and non-users of social media. For this article, 16 interviews with communication scholars (three PhD students, six postdocs, seven professors) were chosen for a closer analysis, because of all the interviewees they described the (dis)advantages of career-related social media use in the most detail, giving the deepest insights into whether social media contribute to a social exclusion of academics or not. How to Define Social Exclusion (in Academia)? The term social exclusion describes a separation of individuals or groups from mainstream society (Walsh et al.). Exclusion is a practice which implies agency. It can be the result of the actions of others, but individuals can also exclude themselves by choosing not to be part of something, for example of social media and the communication taking part there (Atkinson 14). Exclusion is an everyday social practice, because wherever there is an in-group there will always be an out-group. This is what Bourdieu calls distinction. Symbols and behaviours of distinction both function as signs of demarcation and belonging (Bourdieu, Distinction). Those are not always explicitly communicated, but part of people’s behaviour. They act on a social sense by telling them how to behave appropriately in a certain situation. According to Bourdieu, the practical sense is part of the habitus (Bourdieu, The Logic of Practice). The habitus generates patterns of action that come naturally and do not have to be reflected by the actor, due to an implicit knowledge that is acquired during the course of (group-specific) socialisation. For scholars, the process of socialisation in an area of research involves the acquisition of a so-called disciplinary self-image, which is crucial to building a disciplinary identity. In every discipline it contains a dominant disciplinary self-image which defines the scientific perspectives, practices, and even media that are typically used and therefore belong to the mainstream of a discipline (Huber 24). Yet, there is a societal mainstream outside of science which scholars are a part of. Furthermore, they have been socialised into other groups as well. Therefore, the disciplinary mainstream and the habitus of its members can be impacted upon by the societal mainstream and other fields of society. For example, societally mainstream social media, such as Twitter or Facebook, focussing on establishing and sustaining social connections, might be used for scholarly communication just as well as ASNS. The latter cater to the needs of scholars to not just network with colleagues, but to upload academic articles, share and track them, and consume scholarly information (Meishar-Tal and Pieterse 17). Both can become part of the disciplinary mainstream of media usage. In order to define whether and how social media contribute to forms of social exclusion among communication scholars, it is helpful to first identify in how far their usage is part of the disciplinary mainstream, and what their including features are. In contrast to this, forms of exclusion will be analysed and discussed on the basis of qualitative interviews with communication scholars. Including Features of Social Media for Communication Scholars The interviews for this essay were first conducted in 2016. At that time all of the 16 communication scholars interviewed used at least one social medium such as ResearchGate (8), Academia.edu (8), Twitter (10), or Facebook (11) as part of their scientific workflow. By 2019, all of them had a ResearchGate and 11 an Academia.edu account, 13 were on Twitter and 13 on Facebook. This supports the notion of one of the professors, who said that he registered with ResearchGate in 2016 because "everyone’s doing that now!” It also indicates that the work-related presence especially on ResearchGate, but also on other social media, is part of the disciplinary mainstream of communication science. The interviewees figured that the social media they used helped them to increase their visibility in their own community through promoting their work and networking. They also mentioned that they were helpful to keep up to date on the newest articles and on what was happening in communication science in general. The usage of ResearchGate and Academia.edu focussed on publications. Here the scholars could, as one professor put it, access articles that were not available via their university libraries, as well as “previously unpublished articles”. They also liked that they could see "what other scientists are working on" (professor) and were informed via e-mail "when someone publishes a new publication" (PhD student). The interviewees saw clear advantages to their registration with the ASNS, because they felt that they became "much more visible and present" (postdoc) in the scientific community. Seven of the communication scholars (two PhD students, three postdocs, two professors) shared their publications on ResearchGate and Academia.edu. Two described doing cross-network promotion, where they would write a post about their publications on Twitter or Facebook that linked to the full article on Academia.edu or ResearchGate. The usage of Twitter and especially Facebook focussed a lot more on accessing discipline-related information and social networking. The communication scholars mentioned that various sections and working groups of professional organisations in their research field had accounts on Facebook, where they would post news. A postdoc said that she was on Facebook "because I get a lot of information from certain scientists that I wouldn’t have gotten otherwise". Several interviewees pointed out that Twitter is "a place where you can find professional networks, become a part of them or create them yourself" (professor). On Twitter the interviewees explained that they were rather making new connections. Facebook was used to maintain and intensify existing professional relationships. They applied it to communicate with their local networks at their institute, just as well as for international communication. A postdoc and a professor both mentioned that they perceived that Scandinavian or US-American colleagues were easier to contact via Facebook than via any other medium. One professor described how he used Facebook at international conferences to arrange meetings with people he knew and wanted to meet. But to him Facebook also catered to accessing more personal information about his colleagues, thus creating a new "mixture of professional respect for the work of other scientists and personal relationships", which resulted in a "new kind of friendship". Excluding Features of Social Media for Communication Scholars While everyone may create an Academia.edu, Facebook, or Twitter account, ResearchGate is already an exclusive network in itself, as only people working in a scientific field are allowed to join. In 2016, eight of the interviewees and in 2019 all of them had signed up to ResearchGate. So at least among the communication scholars, this did not seem to be an excluding factor. More of an issue was for one of the postdocs that she did not have the copyright to upload her published articles on the ASNS and therefore refrained from uploading them. Interestingly enough, this did not seem to worry any of the other interviewees, and concerns were mostly voiced in relation to the societal mainstream social media. Although all of the interviewees had an account with at least one social medium, three of them described that they did not use or had withdrawn from using Facebook and Twitter. For one professor and one PhD student this had to do with the privacy and data security issues of these networks. The PhD student said that she did not want to be reminded of what she “tweeted maybe 10 years ago somewhere”, and also considered tweeting to be irrelevant in her community. To her, important scientific findings would rather be presented in front of a professional audience and not so much to the “general public”, which she felt was mostly addressed on social media. The professor mentioned that she had been on Facebook since she was a postdoc, but decided to stop using the service when it introduced new rules on data security. On one hand she saw the “benefits” of the network to “stay informed about what is happening in the community”, and especially “in regards to the promotion of young researchers, since some of the junior research groups are very active there”. On the other she found it problematic for her own time management and said that she received a lot of the posted information via e-mail as well. A postdoc mentioned that he had a Facebook account to stay in contact with young scholars he met at a networking event, but never used it. He would rather connect with his colleagues in person at conferences. He felt people would just use social media to “show off what they do and how awesome it is”, which he did not understand. He mentioned that if this “is how you do it now … I don't think this is for me.” Another professor described that Facebook "is the channel for German-speaking science to generate social traffic”, but that he did not like to use it, because “there is so much nonsense ... . It’s just not fun. Twitter is more fun, but the effect is much smaller", as bigger target groups could be reached via Facebook. The majority of the interviewees did not use mainstream social media because they were intrinsically motivated. They rather did it because they felt that it was expected of them to be there, and that it was important for their career to be visible there. Many were worried that they would miss out on opportunities to promote themselves, network, and receive information if they did not use Twitter or Facebook. One of the postdocs mentioned, for example, that she was not a fan of Twitter and would often not know what to write, but that the professor she worked for had told her she needed to tweet regularly. But she did see the benefits as she said that she had underestimated the effect of this at first: “I think, if you want to keep up, then you have to do that, because people don’t notice you.” This also indicates a disciplinary mainstream of social media usage. Conclusion The interviews indicate that the usage of ResearchGate in particular, but also of Academia.edu and of the societal mainstream social media platforms Twitter and Facebook has become part of the disciplinary mainstream of communication science and the habitus of many of its members. ResearchGate mainly targets people working in the scientific field, while excluding everyone else. Its focus on publication sharing makes the network very attractive among its main target group, and serves at the same time as a symbol of distinction from other groups (Bourdieu, Distinction). Yet it also raises copyright issues, which led at least one of the participants to refrain from using this option. The societal mainstream social media Twitter and Facebook, on the other hand, have a broader reach and were more often used by the interviewees for social networking purposes than the ASNS. The interviewees emphasised the benefits of Twitter and Facebook for exchanging information and connecting with others. Factors that led the communication scholars to refrain from using the networks, and thus were excluding factors, were data security and privacy concerns; disliking that the networks were used to “show off”; as well as considering Twitter and Facebook as unfit for addressing the scholarly target group properly. The last statement on the target group, which was made by a PhD student, does not seem to represent the mainstream of the communication scholars interviewed, however. Many of them were using Twitter and Facebook for scholarly communication and rather seemed to find them advantageous. Still, this perception of the disciplinary mainstream led to her not using them for work-related purposes, and excluding her from their advantages. Even though, as one professor described it, a lot of information shared via Facebook is often spread through other communication channels as well, some can only be received via the networks. Although social media are mostly just a substitute for face-to-face communication, by not using them scholars will miss out on the possibilities of creating the “new kind of friendship” another professor mentioned, where professional and personal relations mix. The results of this study show that social media use is advantageous for academics as they offer possibilities to access exclusive information, form new kinds of relations, as well as promote oneself and one’s publications. At the same time, those not using these social media are excluded and might experience career-related disadvantages. As described in the introduction, academia is a competitive environment where many people try to obtain a few permanent positions. By default, this leads to processes of exclusion rather than integration. Any means to stand out from competitors are welcome to emerging scholars, and a career-related advantage will be used. If the growth in the number of communication scholars in the sample signing up to social networks between 2016 to 2019 is any indication, it is likely that the networks have not yet reached their full potential as tools for career advancement among scientific communities, and will become more important in the future. Now one could argue that the communication scholars who were interviewed for this essay are a special case, because they might use social media more actively than other scholars due to their area of research. Though this might be true, studies of other scholarly fields show that social media are being applied just the same (though maybe less extensively), and that they are used to establish cooperations and increase the amount of people reading and citing their publications (Eysenbach; Lo 192; Terras). The question is whether researchers will be able to avoid using social media when striving for a career in science in the future, which can only be answered by further research on the topic. References Atkinson, A.B. “Social Exclusion, Poverty and Unemployment.” Exclusion, Employment and Opportunity. Eds. A.B. Atkinson and John Hills. London: London School of Economics and Political Science, 1998. 1–20. Bourdieu, Pierre. Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard UP, 1984. ———. The Logic of Practice. Stanford, California: Stanford UP, 1990. 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Introduction Jerusalema, a song from Mzansi — an informal isiZulu name for South Africa — became a global hit during the Covid-19 pandemic. Set to a repetitive, slow four-to-a-bar beat characteristic of South African house music, the gospel-influenced song was released through Open Mic Productions in 2019 by the DJ and record producer Kgaogelo Moagi, popularly known as ‘Master KG’. The production resulted from a collaboration between Master KG, the music producer Charmza The DJ, who composed the music, and the vocalist Nomcebo Zikode, who wrote the lyrics and performed the song for the master recording. Jerusalema immediately trended on social media and, as a “soundtrack of the pandemic” (Modise), became one of the most popular songs of 2020. Soon, it reached no. 1 on the music charts in Belgium, Romania, the Netherlands, South Africa, and Switzerland, while going triple platinum in Italy and double platinum in Spain (Hissong). By September 2020, Jerusalema was the most Shazammed song in history. To date, it has generated more than half a billion views on YouTube. After its initial success as a music video, the song’s influence was catapulted to a global cultural phenomenon by the #JerusalemaDanceChallenge video posted by the Angolan dance troupe Fenómenos do Semba in 2020, featuring exquisite dance steps that inspired a viral social media challenge. Some observed that footwork in several of the videos posted, suggested dance types associated with pantsula jive and kwaito music, both of which originated from the black townships of South Africa during the apartheid era. Yet, the leader of the Angolan dance troupe Fenómenos do Semba, Adilson Maiza claimed that the group’s choreography mixed kuduro dance steps (derived from the Angolan Portuguese term “cu duro” or “hard ass”) and Afro-beat. According to Master KG, indeed, the choreography made famous by the Angolan dancers conveyed an Angolan touch, described by Maiza as signature ginga e banga Angolana (Angolan sway and swag; Kabir). As a “counter-contagion” in the age of Coronavirus (Kabir), groups of individuals, ranging from school learners and teachers, police officers, and nursing staff in Africa to priests and nuns in Europe and Palestinians in the Old City of Jerusalem were posting Jerusalema dance videos. Famous efforts came from Vietnam, Switzerland, Ireland, Austria, and Morocco. Numerous videos of healthcare workers became a source of hope for patients with COVID-19 (Chingono). Following the thought of Zygmunt Bauman, in this article I interpret Jerusalema as a “re-enchantment” of a disenchanted world. Focussing on the song’s “magic”, I interrogate why this music video could take on such special meaning for millions of individuals and inspire a viral dance craze. My understanding of “magic” draws on the writings of Patrick Curry, who, in turn, bases his definition of the term on the thought of J.R.R. Tolkien. Curry (5) cites Tolkien in differentiating between two ways in which the word “magic” is generally used: “one to mean enchantment, as in: ‘It was magic!’ and the other to denote a paranormal means to an end, as in: ‘to use magic’”. The argument in this article draws on the first of these explications. As a global media sensation, Jerusalema placed a spotlight on the paucity of a “de-spiritualized, de-animated world,” a world “waging war against mystery and magic” (Baumann x-xi). However, contexts of production and reception, as outlined in Burns and Hawkins (2ff.), warrant consideration of social and cultural values and ideologies masked by the music video’s idealised representation of everyday South African life and its glamourised expression of faith. Thus, while referring to the millennia-old Jerusalem trope and its ensuing mythologies via an intertextual reading, I shall also consider the song alongside the South African-produced epic gangster action film Jerusalema (2008; Orange) while furthermore reflecting on the contexts of its production. Why Jerusalema — Why Its “Magic”? The global fame attained by Master KG’s Jerusalema brought to the fore questions of what made the song and its ensuing dance challenge so exceptional and what lay behind its “magic” (Ndzuta). The song’s simple yet deeply spiritual words appeal to God to take the singer to the heavenly city. In an abbreviated form, as translated from the original isiZulu, the words mean, “Jerusalem is my home, guard me, walk with me, do not leave me here — Jerusalem is my home, my place is not here, my kingdom is not here” (“Jerusalema Lyrics in English”). These words speak of the yearning for salvation, home, and togetherness, with Jerusalem as its spiritual embodiment. As Ndzuta notes, few South African songs have achieved the kind of global status attained by “Jerusalema”. A prominent earlier example is Miriam Makeba’s dance hit Pata Pata, released in the 1960s during the apartheid era. The song’s global impact was enabled by Makeba’s fame and talent as a singer and her political activism against the apartheid regime (Ndzuta). Similarly, the South African hits included on Paul Simon’s Graceland album (1986) — like Ladysmith Black Mambazo’s Homeless — emanated from a specific politico-historical moment that, despite critique against Simon for violating the cultural boycott against South Africa at the time, facilitated their international impact and dissemination (Denselow). Jerusalema’s fame was not tied to political activism but derived from the turbulent times of the COVID-19 pandemic, which, according to statistics published by the World Health Organization, by the end of 2020 had claimed more than 3 million lives globally (“True Death Toll of Covid-19”). Within this context, the song’s message of divine guidance and the protection of a spiritual home was particularly relevant as it lifted global spirits darkened by the pandemic and the many losses it incurred. Likewise, the #JerusalemaDanceChallenge brought joy and feelings of togetherness during these challenging times, as was evidenced by the countless videos posted online. The Magic of the Myth Central to the lyrics of Jerusalema is the city of Jerusalem, which has, as Hees (95) notes, for millennia been “an intense marker of personal, social and religious identity and aspirations in words and music”. Nevertheless, Master KG’s Jerusalema differs from other “Jerusalem songs” in that it encompasses dense layering of “enchantment”. In contrast to Ladysmith Black Mambazo’s Awu Jerusalema, for instance, with its solemn, hymn-like structure and close harmonic vocal delivery, Master KG’s Jerusalema features Nomcebo’s sensuous and versatile voice in a gripping version of the South African house/gospel style known affectionately as the “Amapiano sound” — a raw hybrid of deep house, jazz and lounge music characterised by the use of synthesizers and wide percussive basslines (Seroto). In the original music video, in combination with Nomcebo’s soulful rendition, visuals featuring everyday scenes from South African township life take on alluring, if not poetic dimensions — a magical sensory mix, to which an almost imperceptible slow-motion camera effect adds the impression of “time slowing down”, simultaneously “softening” images of poverty and decay. Fig. 1: “Enchantment” and the joy of the dance. Still from the video “Jerusalema”. From a philosophical perspective, Zygmunt Bauman (xi) contends that “it is against a dis-enchanted world that the postmodern re-enchantment is aimed”. Yet, in a more critical vein, he also argues that, within the postmodern condition, humanity has been left alone with its fears and with an existential void that is “here to stay”: “postmodernity has not allayed the fears that modernity injected into humanity; postmodernity only privatized these fears”. For this reason, Bauman believes, postmodernity “had to become an age of imagined communities” (xviii-xxix). Furthermore, he deems that it is because of its extreme vulnerability that community provides the focus of postmodern concerns in attracting so much intellectual and “real-world” attention (Bauman xxix). Most notably, and relevant to the phenomenon of the media craze, as discussed in this article, Bauman defines the imagined community by way of the cogito “I am seen, therefore I exist” (xix). Not only does Bauman’s line of thought explain the mass and media appeal of populist ideologies of postmodernity that strive to “fill the void”, like Sharon Blackie’s The Enchanted Life — Unlocking the Magic of the Everyday, or Mattie James’s acclaimed Everyday Magic: The Joy of Not Being Everything and Still Being More than Enough; it also illuminates the immense collective appeal of the #JerusalemaDanceChallenge. Here, Bauman’s thought on the power of shared experience — in this case, mass-mediated experience — is, again, of particular relevance: “having no other … anchors except the affections of their ‘members’, imagined communities exist solely through … occasional outbursts of togetherness” (xix). Among these, he lists “demonstrations, marches, festivals, riots” (xix). Indeed, the joyous shared expression of the #JerusalemaDanceChallenge videos posted online during the COVID-19 pandemic may well sort under similar festive public “outbursts”. As a ceremonial dance that tells the story of shared experiences and longings, Jerusalema may be seen as one such collective celebration. True to African dance tradition, more than being merely entertainment for the masses, each in its own way, the dance videos recount history, convey emotion, celebrate rites of passage, and help unify communities in one of the darkest periods of the recent global past. An Intertextual Context for Reading “Jerusalema” However, historical dimensions of the “Jerusalem trope” suggest that Jerusalema might also be understood from a more critical perspective. As Hees (92) notes, the trope of the loss of and longing for the city of Jerusalem represents a merging of mythologies through the ages, embodied in Hebrew, Roman, Christian, Muslim, and Zionist religious cultures. Still, many Jerusalem narratives refrain from referring to its historical legacy, which fuelled hostility between the West and the Muslim world still prevalent today. Thus, the historical realities of fraud, deceit, greed, betrayal, massacres, and even cannibalism are often shunned so that Jerusalem — one of the holiest yet most blood-soaked cities in the world (Hees 92, 95) — is elevated as a symbol of the Heavenly City. In this respect, the South African crime epic Gangster Paradise: Jerusalema, which premiered at the Berlin International Film Festival in 2008 and was later submitted to the Academy Awards for consideration to qualify as a nominee for Best Foreign Language Film (De Jager), stands in stark contrast to the divine connotations of Master KG’s Jerusalema. According to its director Ralph Ziman (Stecker), the film, inspired by a true story, offers a raw look into post-apartheid crime and corruption in the South African city of Johannesburg (De Villiers 8). Its storyline provides a sharp critique of the economic inequalities that torment South Africa in post-apartheid democracy, capturing the dissatisfaction and the “wave of violent crimes that resulted from the economic realities at its root” (Azuawusiefe 102). The irony of the narrative resides in the fact that the main protagonist, Lucky Kunene, at first reluctant to resort to a life of crime, turns to car hijacking and then to hijacking derelict, over-crowded buildings in the inner-city centre of Hillbrow (Hees 90). Having become a wealthy crime boss, Johannesburg, for him, becomes symbolic of a New Jerusalem (“Jerusalem Entjha”; Azuawusiefe 103; Hees 91-92). Entangled in the criminal underbelly of the city and arrested for murder, Kunene escapes from prison, relocating to the coastal city of Durban where, again, he envisages “Jerusalem Enthjha” (which, supposedly, once more implies a life of crime). As a portrayal of inner-city life in Johannesburg, this narrative takes on particular relevance for the current state of affairs in the country. In September this year, an uncontainable fire at a derelict, overcrowded hijacked building owned by Johannesburg municipal authorities claimed the lives of 73 people — a tragic event reported on by all major TV networks worldwide. While the events and economic actualities pictured in the film thus offer a realistic view of the adversities of current South African life, visual content in Master KG’s Jerusalema sublimates everyday South African scenes. Though the deprivation, decay, and poverty among which the majority of South Africans live is acknowledged in the video, its message of a yearning for salvation and a “better home” is foregrounded while explicit critique is shunned. This means that Jerusalema’s plea for divine deliverance is marked by an ambivalence that may weaken an understanding of the video as “pure magic”. Fig. 2: Still from the video Jerusalema showing decrepit living conditions in the background. “Jerusalema” as Layers of Meaning From Bauman’s perspective, Jerusalema — both as a music video and the #JerusalemaDanceChallenge — may represent a more profound human longing for imagined communal celebration beyond mass-mediated entertainment. From such a viewpoint, it may be seen as one specific representation of the millennia-old trope of a heavenly, transcendent Jerusalem in the biblical tradition, the celestial city providing a dwelling for the divine to enter this world (Thompson 647). Nevertheless, in Patrick Curry’s terms, as a media frenzy, the song and its ensuing dance challenge may also be understood as “enchantment enslaved by magic”; that is, enchantment in the service of mass-mediated glamour (7). This implies that Jerusalema is not exempt from underlying ideologised conditions of production, or an endorsement of materialistic values. The video exhibits many of the characteristics of a prototypical music video that guarantee commercial success — a memorable song, the incorporation of noteworthy dance routines, the showcasing of a celebrated artist, striking relations between music and image, and flashy visuals, all of which are skilfully put together (compare Korsgaard). Auslander observes, for instance, that in current music video production the appearance and behaviour of artists are the basic units of communication from which genre-specific personae are constructed (100). In this regard, the setting of a video is crucial for ensuring coherence with the constructed persona (Vernallis 87). These aspects come to the fore in Master KG’s video rendition of Jerusalema. The vocalist Nomcebo Zikode is showcased in settings that serve as a favourable backdrop to the spiritual appeal of the lyrics, either by way of slightly filtered scenes of nature or scenes of worshippers or seekers of spiritual blessing. In addition, following the gospel genre type, her gestures often suggest divine adoration. Fig. 3: Vocalist Nomcebo Zikode in a still from the video Jerusalema. However, again some ambiguity of meaning may be noted. First, the fashionable outfits featured by the singer are in stark contrast with scenes of poverty and deprivation later in the video. The impression of affluence is strengthened by her stylish make-up and haircut and the fact that she changes into different outfits during the song. This points to a glamorisation of religious worship and an idealisation of township life that disregards South Africa’s dire economic situation, which existed even before COVID-19, due to massive corruption and state capture in which the African National Congress is fully implicated (Momoniat). Furthermore, according to media reportage, Jerusalema’s context of production was not without controversy. Though the video worked its magic in the hearts of millions of viewers and listeners worldwide, the song’s celebration as a global hit was marred by legal battles over copyright and remuneration issues. First, it came to light that singer-songwriter Nomcebo Zikode had for a considerable period not been paid for her contribution to the production following Jerusalema’s commercial release in 2019 (Modise). Therefore, she resorted to a legal dispute. Also, it was alleged that Master KG was not the original owner of the music and was not even present when the song was created. Thus, the South African artists Charmza The DJ (Presley Ledwaba) and Biblos (Ntimela Chauke), who claimed to be the original creators of the track, also instituted legal action against Kgaogelo Moagi, his record label Open Mic Productions, and distributor Africori SA whose majority shareholder is the Warner Music Group (Madibogo). The Magic of the Dance Despite these moral and material ambiguities, Jerusalema’s influence as a global cultural phenomenon during the era of COVID spoke to a more profound yearning for the human condition, one that was not necessarily based on religious conviction (Shoki). Perhaps this was vested foremost in the simplicity and authenticity that transpired from the original dance challenge video and its countless pursuals posted online at the time. These prohibit reading the Jerusalema phenomenon as pseudo-enchantment driven only by a profit motive. As a wholly unforeseen, unifying force of hope and joy, the dance challenge sparked a global trend that fostered optimism among millions. Fig. 4: The Angolan dance troupe Fenómenos do Semba. (Still from the original #JerusalemaDanceChallenge video.) As stated earlier, Jerusalema did not originate from political activism. Yet, Professor of English literature Ananya Kabir uncovers a layer of meaning associated with the dance challenge, which she calls “alegropolitics” or a “politics of joy” — the joy of the dance ­­— that she links on the one hand with the Jerusalem trope and its history of trauma and dehumanisation, and, on the other, with Afro-Atlantic expressive culture as associated with enslavement, colonialism, and commodification. In her reading of the countless videos posted, their “gift to the world” is “the secret of moving collectively”. By way of individual responses to “poly-rhythmic Africanist aesthetic principles … held together by a master-structure”, Kabir interprets this communal dance as “resistance, incorporating kinetic and rhythmic principles that circulated initially around the Atlantic rim (including the Americas, Europe, the Caribbean, and Africa)”. For her, the #JerusalemaDanceChallenge is “an example of how dance enables convivencia (living together)”; “it is a line dance (animation in French, animação in Portuguese, animación in Spanish) that enlivens parties through simple choreography that makes people dance together”. In this sense, the routine’s syncopated steps allow more and more people to join as each repetition unfolds — indeed, a celebratory example of Bauman’s imagined community that exists through an “outburst of togetherness” (xix). Such a collective “fest” demonstrates how, in dance leader Maiza’s words, “it is possible to be happy with little: we party with very little” (Kabir). Accordingly, as part of a globally mediated community, with just the resources of the body (Kabir), the locked-down world partied, too, for the duration of the magical song. Whether seen as a representation of the millennia-old trope of a heavenly, transcendent Jerusalem, or, in Curry’s understanding, as enchantment in the service of mass-mediated glamour, Jerusalema and its ensuing dance challenge form an undeniable part of recent global history involving the COVID-19 pandemic. As a media frenzy, it contributed to the existing body of “Jerusalem songs”, and lifted global spirits clouded by the pandemic and its emotional and material losses. Likewise, the #JerusalemaDanceChallenge was symbolic of an imagined global community engaging in “the joy of the dance” during one of the most challenging periods in humanity’s recent past. References Auslander, Philip. “Framing Personae in Music Videos.” The Bloomsbury Handbook of Popular Music Video Analysis. Eds. Loria A. Burns and Stan Hawkins. London: Bloomsbury, 2019. 92-109. 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Curry, Patrick. “Magic vs. Enchantment.” Mallorn: The Journal of the Tolkien Society 38 (2001): 5-10. De Jager, Christelle. “Oscar Gets Trip to ‘Jerusalema’.” Variety 7 Oct. 2008. 8 July 2023 <https://variety.com/2008/film/awards/oscar-gets-trip-to-jerusalema-1117993596/>. Denselow, Robin. “Paul Simon's Graceland: The Acclaim and the Outrage.” The Guardian 19 Apr. 2012. 15 July 2023 <https://www.theguardian.com/music/2012/apr/19/paul-simon-graceland-acclaim-outrage>. De Villiers, Dawid W. “After the Revolution: Jerusalema and the Entrepreneurial Present.” South African Theatre Journal 23 (2009): 8-22. Hees, Edwin. “Jerusalema.” Journal of the Musical Arts in Africa 6.1 (2009): 89-99. <https://doi.org/10.2989/JMAA.2009.6.1.9.1061>. Hissong, Samantha. “How South Africa’s ‘Jerusalema’ Became a Global Hit without Ever Having to Be Translated.” Rolling Stone 16 Oct. 2020. 15 June 2023 <https://www.rollingstone.com/pro/news/jerusalema-global-dance-hit-south-africa-spotify-1076474/>. James, Mattie. Everyday Magic. The Joy of Not Being Everything and Still Being More than Enough. Franklin, Tennessee: Worthy Publishing, 2022. “Jerusalema Lyrics in English.” Afrika Lyrics 2019. 7 July 2023 <https://afrikalyrics.com/master-kg-jerusalema- translation>. Kabir, Ananya Jahanara. “The Angolan Dancers Who Helped South African Anthem Jerusalema Go Global.” The Conversation 29 Oct. 2020. 30 June 2023 <https://theconversation.com/the-angolan-dancers-who-helped-south-african-anthem-jerusalema-go-global-148782>. Korsgaard, Mathias. Music Video after MTV: Audio-Visual Studies, New Media, and Popular Music. New York: Routledge, 2017. Madibogo, Julia. “Master KG Slapped with a Lawsuit for Jerusalema.” City Press 26 July 2022. 4 July 2023 <https://www.news24.com/citypress/trending/master-kg-slapped-with-a-lawsuit-for-jerusalema-20220726>. Modise, Julia Mantsali. “Jerusalema, a Heritage Day Song of the Covid-19 Pandemic.” Religions 14.45 (2022). 30 June 2023 <https//doi.org/10.3390/rel1401004>. Modise, Kedibone. “Nomcebo Zikode Reveals Ownership Drama over ‘Jerusalema’ Has Intensified.” IOL Entertainment 6 June 2022. 30 June 2023 <https://www.iol.co.za/entertainment/music/local/nomcebo-zikode-reveals-ownership-drama-over-jerusalema-has-intensified-211e2575-f0c6-43cc-8684-c672b9da4c04>. Momoniat, Ismail. “How and Why Did State Capture and Massive Corruption Occur in South Africa?”. IMF PFM Blog 10 Apr. 2023. 15 June 2023 <https://blog-pfm.imf.org/en/pfmblog/2023/04/how-and-why-did-state-capture-and-massive-corruption-occur-in-south-africa>. Ndzuta, Akhona. “How Viral Song Jerusalema Joined the Ranks of South Africa’s Greatest Hits.” The Conversation 29 Oct. 2020. 30 June 2023 <https://theconversation.com/how-viral-song-jerusalema-joined-the-ranks-of-south-africas-greatest-hits-148781>. Orange, B. Allen. “Ralph Ziman Talks Gangster's Paradise: Jerusalema [Exclusive].” Movieweb 2010. 15 July 2023 <https://movieweb.com/exclusive-ralph-ziman-talks-gangsters-paradise-jerusalema/>. Seroto, Butchie. “Amapiano: What Is It All About?” Music in Africa 30 Sep. 2020. 15 June 2023 <https://www.musicinafrica.net/magazine/amapiano-what-it-all-about>. Shoki, William. “‘Jerusalema’ Is about Self-Determination.” Jacobin 10 Dec. 2020. 30 June 2023 <https://jacobin.com/2020/10/jerusalema-south-africa-coronavirus-covid>. Stecker, Joshua. “Gangster’s Paradise: Jerusalema – Q & A with Writer/Director Ralph Ziman.” Script 11 June 2010. 30 June 2023 <https://scriptmag.com/features/gangsters-paradise-jerusalema-qa-with-writerdirector-ralph-ziman>. Thompson, Thomas L. “Jerusalem as the City of God's Kingdom: Common Tropes in the Bible and the Ancient Near East.” Islamic Studies 40.3-4 (2001): 631-647. Vernallis, Carol. Experiencing Music Video: Aesthetics and Cultural Context. 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IntroductionBritish initiatives to manage both the number of arrivals of asylum seekers and the experiences of those who arrive have burgeoned in recent years. The budget dedicated to asylum seeker management increased from £357 million in 1998-1999 to £1.71 billion in 2004-2005, making the Immigration and Nationality Directorate (IND) the second largest concern of the Home Office behind the Prison Service in 2005 (Back et al). The IND was replaced in April 2007 by the Border and Immigration Agency (BIA), whose expenditure exceeded £2 billion in 2007-2008 (BIA). Perhaps as a consequence the number of asylum seekers applying to the UK has fallen dramatically, illustrating the continuing influence of exclusionary state policies despite the globalisation and transnationalisation of migrant flows (UNHCR; Koser).One of the difficulties with the study of asylum seekers is the persistent risk that, by employing the term ‘asylum seeker’, research conducted into their experiences will contribute towards the exclusion of a marginalised and abject group of people, precisely by employing a term that emphasises the suspended recognition of a community (Nyers). The ‘asylum seeker’ is a figure defined in law in order to facilitate government-level avoidance of humanitarian obligations by emphasising the non-refugeeness of asylum claimants (Tyler). This group is identified as supplicant to the state, positioning the state itself as a legitimate arbiter. It is in this sense that asylum seekers suffer a degree of cruel optimism (Berlant) – wishing to be recognised as a refugee while nevertheless subject to state-defined discourses, whatever the outcome. The term ‘forced migrant’ is little better, conveying a de-humanising and disabling lack of agency (Turton), while the terms ‘undocumented migrant’, ‘irregular migrant’ and ‘illegal migrant’ all imply a failure to conform to respectable, desirable and legitimate forms of migration.Another consequence of these co-opted and politically subjugating forms of language is their production of simple imagined geographies of migration that position the foreigner as strange, unfamiliar and incapable of communication across this divide. Such imaginings precipitate their own responses, most clearly expressed in the blunt, intrusive uses of space and time in migration governance (Lahav and Guiraudon; Cohen; Guild; Gronendijk). Various institutions exist in Britain that function to actually produce the imagined differences between migrants and citizens, from the two huge, airport-like ‘Asylum Screening Units’ in Liverpool and London where asylum seekers can lodge their claims, to the 12 ‘Removal Centres’ within which soon-to-be deported asylum seekers are incarcerated and the 17 ‘Hearing Centres’ at which British judges preside over the precise legal status of asylum applicants.Less attention, however, has been given to the tension between mobility and stillness in asylum contexts. Asylum seeker management is characterised by a complex combination of enforced stillness and enforced mobility of asylum seeking bodies, and resistance can also be understood in these terms. This research draws upon 37 interviews with asylum seekers, asylum activists, and government employees in the UK conducted between 2005 and 2007 (see Gill) and distils three characteristics of stillness. First, an association between stillness and safety is clearly evident, exacerbated by the fear that the state may force asylum seekers to move at any time. Second, stillness of asylum seekers in a physical, literal sense is intimately related to their psychological condition, underscoring the affectual properties of stillness. Third, the desire to be still, and to be safe, precipitates various political strategies that seek to secure stillness, meaning that stillness functions as more than an aspiration, becoming also a key political metric in the struggle between the included and excluded. In these multiple and contradictory ways stillness is a key factor that structures asylum seekers’ experiences of migration. Governing through Mobility The British state utilises both stillness and mobility in the governance of asylum seeking bodies. On the one hand, asylum seekers’ personal freedoms are routinely curtailed both through their incarceration and through the requirements imposed upon them by the state in terms of ‘signing in’ at local police stations, even when they are not incarcerated, throughout the time that they are awaiting a decision on their claim for asylum (Cwerner). This requirement, which consists of attending a police station to confirm the continuing compliance of the asylum seeker, can vary in frequency, from once every month to once every few days.On the other hand, the British state employs a range of strategies of mobility that serve to deprive asylum seeking communities of geographical stillness and, consequently, also often undermines their psychological stability. First, the seizure of asylum seekers and transportation to a Removal Centre can be sudden and traumatic, and incarceration in this manner is becoming increasingly common (Bacon; Home Office). In extreme cases, very little or no warning is given to asylum seekers who are taken into detention, and so-called ‘dawn raids’ have been organised in order to exploit an element of surprise in the introduction of asylum seekers to detention (Burnett). A second source of forced mobility associated with Removal Centres is the transfer of detainees from one Removal Centre to another for a variety of reasons, from the practical constraints imposed by the capacities of various centres, to differences in the conditions of centres themselves, which are used to form a reward and sanction mechanism among the detainee population (Hayter; Granville-Chapman). Intra-detention estate transfers have increased in scope and significance in recent years: in 2004/5, the most recent financial year for which figures are available, the British government spent over £6.5 million simply moving detainees from one secure facility to another within the UK (Hansard, 2005; 2006).Outside incarceration, a third source of spatial disruption of asylum seekers in the UK concerns their relationship with accommodation providers. Housing is provided to asylum seekers as they await a decision on their claim, but this housing is provided on a ‘no-choice’ basis, meaning that asylum seekers who are not prepared to travel to the accommodation that is allocated to them will forfeit their right to accommodation (Schuster). In other words, accommodation is contingent upon asylum seekers’ willingness to be mobile, producing a direct trade-off between the attractions of accommodation and stillness. The rationale for this “dispersal policy”, is to draw asylum seekers away from London, where the majority of asylum seekers chose to reside before 2000. The maintenance of a diverse portfolio of housing across the UK is resource intensive, with the re-negotiation of housing contracts worth over a £1 billion a constant concern (Noble et al). As these contracts are renegotiated, asylum seekers are expected to move in response to the varying affordability of housing around the country. In parallel to the system of deportee movements within the detention estate therefore, a comparable system of movement of asylum seekers around the UK in response to urban and regional housing market conditions also operates. Stillness as SanctuaryIn all three cases, the psychological stress that movement of asylum seekers can cause is significant. Within detention, according to a series of government reports into the conditions of removal centres, one of the recurring difficulties facing incarcerated asylum seekers is incomprehension of their legal status (e.g. HMIP 2002; 2008). This, coupled with very short warning of impending movements, results in widespread anxiety among detained asylum seekers that they may be deported or transferred imminently. Outside detention, the fear of snatch squads of police officers, or alternatively the fear of hate crimes against asylum seekers (Tyler), render movement in the public realm a dangerous practice in the eyes of many marginalised migrants. The degree of uncertainty and the mental and emotional demands of relocation introduced through forced mobility can have a damaging psychological effect upon an already vulnerable population. Expressing his frustration at this particular implication of the movement of detainees, one activist who had provided sanctuary to over 20 asylum seekers in his community outlined some of the consequences of onward movement.The number of times I’ve had to write panic letters saying you know you cannot move this person to the other end of the country because it destabilises them in terms of their mental health and it is abusive. […] Their solicitors are here, they’re in process, in legal process, they’ve got a community, they’ve got friends, they may even have a partner or a child here and they would still move them.The association between governance, mobility and trepidation highlights one characteristic of stillness in the asylum seeking field: in contra-distinction to the risk associated with movement, to be still is very often to be safe. Given the necessity to flee violence in origin countries and the tendency for destination country governments to require constant re-positioning, often backed-up with the threat of force, stillness comes to be viewed as offering a sort of sanctuary. Indeed, the Independent Asylum Commission charity that has conducted a series of reviews of asylum seekers’ treatment in the UK (Hobson et al.), has recently suggested dispensing with the term ‘asylum’ in favour of ‘sanctuary’ precisely because of the positive associations with security and stability that the latter provides. To be in one place for a sustained period allows networks of human trust and reciprocity to develop which can form the basis of supportive community relationships. Another activist who had accompanied many asylum seekers through the legal process spoke passionately about the functions that communities can serve in asylum seekers’ lives.So you actually become substitute family […] I think it’s what helps people in the midst of trauma when the future is uncertain […] to find a community which values them, which accepts them, which listens to them, where they can begin to find a place and touch a creative life again which they may not have had for years: it’s enormously important.There is a danger in romanticising the benefits of community (Joseph). Indeed, much of the racism and xenophobia directed towards asylum seekers has been the result of local community hostilities towards different national and ethnic groups (Boswell). For many asylum seekers, however, the reciprocal relations found in communities are crucially important to their well-being. What is more, the inclusion of asylum seekers into communities is one of the most effective anti-state and anti-deportation strategies available to activists and asylum seekers alike (Tyler), because it arrests the process of anonymising and cordoning asylum seekers as an homogenous group, providing instead a chance for individuals to cast off this label in favour of more ‘humane’ characteristics: families, learning, friendship, love.Strategies for StillnessFor this reason, the pursuit of stillness among asylum seekers is both a human and political response to their situations – stillness becomes a metric in the struggle between abject migrants and the state. Crucial to this political function is the complex relationship between stillness and social visibility: if an asylum seeker can command their own stillness then they can also have greater influence over their public profile, either in order to develop it or to become less conspicuous.Tyler argues that asylum seekers are what she calls a ‘hypervisible’ social group, referring to the high profile association between a fictional, dehumanised asylum seeking figure and a range of defamatory characteristics circulated by the popular printed press. Stillness can be used to strategically reduce this imposed form of hypervisibility, and to raise awareness of real asylum seeker stories and situations. This is achieved by building community coalitions, which require physically and socially settled asylum seeking families and communities. Asylum advocacy groups and local community support networks work together in the UK in order to generate a genuine public profile of asylum seekers by utilising local and national newspapers, staging public demonstrations, delivering speeches, attending rallies and garnering support among local organisations through art exhibitions, performances and debates. Some activist networks specialise explicitly in supporting asylum seekers in these endeavours, and sympathetic networks of journalists, lawyers, doctors and radio producers combine their expertise with varying degrees of success.These sorts of strategies can produce strong loyalties between local communities and the asylum seekers in their midst, precisely because, through their co-presence, asylum seekers cease to be merely asylum seekers, but become active and valued members of communities. One activist who had helped to organise the protection of an asylum seeker in a church described some of the preparations that had been made for the arrival of immigration task forces in her middle class parish.There were all sorts of things we practiced: if they did break through the door what would we do? We set up a telephone tree so that each person would phone two or three people. We had I don’t know how many cars outside. We arranged a safe house, where we would hide her. We practiced getting her out of the room into a car […] We were expecting them to come at any time. We always had people at the back […] guarding, looking at strangers who might be around and [name] was never, ever allowed to be on her own without a whole group of people completely surrounding her so she could feel safe and we would feel safe. Securing stillness here becomes more than simply an operation to secure geographic fixity: it is a symbolic struggle between state and community, crystallising in specific tactics of spatial and temporal arrangement. It reflects the fear of further forced movement, the abiding association between stillness and safety, and the complex relationship between community visibility and an ability to remain still.There are, nevertheless, drawbacks to these tactics that suggest a very different relationship between stillness and visibility. Juries can be alienated by loud tactics of activism, meaning that asylum seekers can damage their chances of a sympathetic legal hearing if they have had too high a profile. Furthermore, many asylum seekers do not have the benefits of such a dedicated community. An alternative way in which stillness becomes political is through its ability to render invisible the abject body. Invisibility is taken to mean the decision to ‘go underground’, miss the appointments at local police stations and attempt to anticipate the movements of immigration removal enforcement teams. Perversely, although this is a strategy for stillness at the national or regional scale, mobile strategies are often employed at finer scales in order to achieve this objective. Asylum seekers sometimes endure extremely precarious and difficult conditions of housing and subsistence moving from house to house regularly or sleeping and living in cars in order to avoid detection by authorities.This strategy is difficult because it involves a high degree of uncertainty, stress and reliance upon the goodwill of others. One police officer outlined the situation facing many ‘invisible’ asylum seekers as one of poverty and desperation:Immigration haven’t got a clue where they are, they just can’t find them because they’re sofa surfing, that’s living in peoples coffee shops … I see them in the coffee shop and they come up and they’re bloody starving! Despite the difficulties associated with this form of invisibility, it is estimated that this strategy is becoming increasingly common in the UK. In 2006 the Red Cross estimated that there were some 36 000 refused and destitute asylum seekers in England, up from 25 000 the previous year, and reported that their organisation was having to provide induction tours of soup kitchens and night shelters in order to alleviate the conditions of many claimants in these situations (Taylor and Muir). Conclusion The case of asylum seekers in the UK illustrates the multiple, contradictory and splintered character of stillness. While some forms of governance impose stillness upon asylum seeking bodies, in the form of incarceration and ‘signing in’ requirements, other forms of governance impose mobility either within detention or outside it. Consequently stillness figures in the responses of asylum seeking communities in various ways. Given the unwelcome within-country movement of asylum seekers, and adding to this the initial fact of their forced migration from their home countries, the condition of stillness becomes desirable, promising to bring with it stability and safety. These promises contrast the psychological disruption that further mobility, and even the threat of further mobility, can bring about. This illustrates the affectual qualities both of movement and of stillness in the asylum-seeking context. Literal stillness is associated with social and emotional stability that complicates the distinction between real and emotional spaces. While this is certainly not the case uniformly – incarceration and inhibited personal liberties have opposite consequences – the promises of stillness in terms of stability and sanctuary are clearly significant because this desirability leads asylum advocates and asylum seekers to execute a range of political strategies that seek to ensure stillness, either through enhanced or reduced forms of social visibility.The association of mobility with freedom that typifies much of the literature surrounding mobility needs closer inspection. At least in some situations, asylum seekers pursue geographical stillness for the political and psychological benefits it can offer, while mobility is both employed as a subjugating strategy by states and is itself actively resisted by those who constitute its targets.ReferencesBack, Les, Bernadette Farrell and Erin Vandermaas. A Humane Service for Global Citizens. London: South London Citizens, 2005.Bacon, Christine. 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"Presentational State Power: Temporal and Spatial Influences over Asylum Sector." Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers, 2009 (forthcoming).Granville-Chapman, Charlotte, Ellie Smith, and Neil Moloney. Harm on Removal: Excessive Force Against Failed Asylum Seekers. London: Medical Foundation for the Care of Victims of Torture, 2004.Groenendijk, Kees. “New Borders behind Old Ones: Post-Schengen Controls behind the Internal Borders and inside the Netherlands and Germany”. In Search of Europe's Borders. Eds. Kees Groenendijk, Elspeth Guild and Paul Minderhoud. The Hague: Kluwer International Law, 2003. 131—46.Guild, Elspeth. “The Europeanisation of Europe's Asylum Policy.” International Journal of Refugee Law 18 (2006): 630—51.Guiraudon, Virginie. “Before the EU Border: Remote Control of the 'Huddled Masses'.” In Search of Europe's Borders. Eds. Kees Groenendijk, Elspeth Guild and Paul Minderhoud. The Hague: Kluwer International Law, 2003. 191—214.Hansard, House of Commons. Vol. 440 Col. 972W. 5 Dec. 2005. 6 Mar. 2009 ‹http://www.publications.parliament.uk/pa/cm200506/cmhansrd/vo051205/text/51205w18.htm›.———. Vol. 441 Col. 374W. 9 Jan. 2006. 6 Mar. 2009 ‹http://www.publications.parliament.uk/pa/cm200506/cmhansrd/vo060109/text/60109w95.htm›.Hayter, Theresa. Open Borders: The Case against Immigration Controls. London: Pluto P, 2000.HM Inspectorate of Prisons. An Inspection of Campsfield House Immigration Removal Centre. London: HM Inspectorate of Prisons, 2002.———. Report on an Unannounced Full Follow-up Inspection of Campsfield House Immigration Removal Centre. London: HM Inspectorate of Prisons, 2008. Hobson, Chris, Jonathan Cox, and Nicholas Sagovsky. Saving Sanctuary: The Independent Asylum Commission’s First Report of Conclusions and Recommendations. London: Independent Asylum Commission, 2008.Home Office. “Record High on Removals of Failed Asylum Seekers.” Press Office Release, 27 Feb. 2007. London: Home Office, 2007. 6 Mar. 2009 ‹http://press.homeoffice.gov.uk/press-releases/asylum-removals-figures›. Joseph, Miranda. Against the Romance of Community. Minnesota: U of Minnesota P, 2002.Koser, Khalid. “Refugees, Trans-Nationalism and the State.” Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies 33 (2007): 233—54.Lahav, Gallya, and Virginie Guiraudon. “Comparative Perspectives on Border Control: Away from the Border and outside the State”. Wall around the West: State Borders and Immigration Controls in North America and Europe. Eds. Gallya Lahav and Virginie Guiraudon. The Lanham: Rowman and Littlefield, 2000. 55—77.Noble, Gill, Alan Barnish, Ernie Finch, and Digby Griffith. A Review of the Operation of the National Asylum Support Service. London: Home Office, 2004. Nyers, Peter. "Abject Cosmopolitanism: The Politics of Protection in the Anti-Deportation Movement." Third World Quarterly 24.6 (2003): 1069—93.Schuster, Lisa. "A Sledgehammer to Crack a Nut: Deportation, Detention and Dispersal in Europe." Social Policy & Administration 39.6 (2005): 606—21.Taylor, Diane, and Hugh Muir. “Red Cross Aids Failed Asylum Seekers” UK News. The Guardian 9 Jan. 2006. 6 Mar. 2009 ‹http://www.guardian.co.uk/news/2006/jan/09/immigrationasylumandrefugees.uknews›.Turton, David. Conceptualising Forced Migration. University of Oxford Refugee Studies Centre Working Paper 12 (2003). 6 Mar. 2009 ‹http://www.rsc.ox.ac.uk/PDFs/workingpaper12.pdf›.Tyler, Imogen. “'Welcome to Britain': The Cultural Politics of Asylum.” European Journal of Cultural Studies 9.2 (2006): 185—202.United Nations High Commission for Refugees. Refugees by Numbers 2006 Edition. Geneva: UNHCR, 2006.

Introduction Daffodil Day, usually held in spring, raises funds for cancer awareness and research using this symbol of hope. On that day, people who donate money to this good cause are usually given a yellow daffodil pin to wear. When I lived in Auckland, New Zealand, on the last Friday in August most people walking around the city centre proudly wore a cheerful yellow flower. So many people generously participated in this initiative that one almost felt obliged to join the cause in order to wear the ‘uniform’ – the daffodil pin – as everyone else did on that day. To donate and to wear a daffodil is the social expectation, and operating in social environment people often endeavour to meet the expectation by doing the ‘appropriate things’ defined by societies or communities. After all, who does not like to receive a beam of acceptance and appreciation from a fellow daffodil bearer in Auckland’s Queen Street? States in international society are no different. In some ways, states wear ‘uniforms’ while executing domestic and foreign affairs just as human beings do within their social groups. States develop the understandings of desirable behaviour from the international community with which they interact and identify. They are ‘socialised’ to act in line with the expectations of international community. These expectations are expressed in the form of international norms, a prescriptive set of ideas about the ‘appropriate behaviour for actors with a given identity’ (Finnemore and Sikkink 891). Motivated by this logic of appropriateness, states that comply with certain international norms in world politics justify and undertake actions that are considered appropriate for their identities. This essay starts with examining how international norms can be spread to different countries through the process of ‘state socialisation’ (how the countries are ‘talked into’ wearing the ‘uniform’). Second, the essay investigates the idea of ‘cultural match’: how domestic actors comply with an international norm by interpreting and manipulating it according to their local political and legal practices (how the countries wear the ‘uniform’ differently). Lastly, the essay probes the current international normative community and the liberal values embedded in major international norms (whether states would continue wearing the ‘uniform’). International Norms and State Socialisation: Why Do States Wear the ‘Uniforms’? Norm diffusion is related to the efforts of ‘norm entrepreneurs’ using various platforms to convince a critical mass of states to embrace new norms (Finnemore and Sikkink 895-896). Early studies of norm diffusion tend to emphasise nongovernmental organisations (NGOs) as norm entrepreneurs and advocates, such as Oxfam and its goal of reducing poverty and hunger worldwide (Capie 638). In other empirical research, intergovernmental organisations (IGOs) were shown to serve as ‘norm teachers,’ such as UNESCO educating developing countries the value of science policy organisations (Finnemore 581-586). Additionally, states and other international actors can also play important roles in norm diffusion. Powerful states with more communication resources sometimes enjoy advantages in creating and promoting new norms (Florini 375). For example, the United States and Western European countries have often been considered as the major proponents of free trade. Norm emergence and state socialisation in a normative community often occurs during critical historical periods, such as wars and major economic downturns, when international changes and domestic crises often coincide with each other (Ikenberry and Kupchan 292). For instance, the norm entrepreneurs of ‘responsible power/state’ can be traced back to the great powers (mainly the United States, Great Britain, and the Soviet Union) and their management of international order at the end of WWII (see Bull). With their negotiations and series of international agreements at the Cairo, Tehran, Yalta, and Potsdam Conference in the 1940s, these great powers established a post-World War international society based on the key liberal values of international peace and security, free trade, human rights, and democracy. Human beings are not born to know what appropriate behaviour is; we learn social norms from parents, schools, peers, and other community members. International norms are collective expectations and understanding of how state governments should approach their domestic and foreign affairs. States ‘learn’ international norms while socialising with a normative community. From a sociological perspective, socialisation summarises ‘how and to what extent diverse individuals are meshed with the requirement of collective life’ at the societal level (Long and Hadden 39). It mainly consists of the process of training and shaping newcomers by the group members and the social adjustment of novices to the normative framework and the logic of appropriateness (Long and Hadden 39). Similarly, social psychology defines socialisation as the process in which ‘social organisations influence the action and experience of individuals’ (Gold and Douvan 145). Inspired by sociology and psychology, political scientists consider socialisation to be the mechanism through which norm entrepreneurs persuade other actors (usually a norm novice) to adhere to a particular prescriptive standard (Johnston, “Social State” 16). Norm entrepreneurs can change novices’ behaviour by the methods of persuasion and social influence (Johnston, “Treating International Institutions” 496-506). Socialisation sometimes demands that individual actors should comply with organisational norms by changing their interests or preferences (persuasion). Norm entrepreneurs often attempt to construct an appealing cognitive frame in order to persuade the novices (either individuals or states) to change their normative preferences or adopt new norms. They tend to use language that can ‘name, interpret and dramatise’ the issues related to the emerging norm (Finnemore and Sikkink 987). As a main persuasive device, ‘framing’ can provide a singular interpretation and appropriate behavioural response for a particular situation (Payne 39). Cognitive consistency theory found in psychology has suggested the mechanism of ‘analogy’, which indicates that actors are more likely to accept new ideas that share some similarities to the extant belief or ideas that they have already accepted (see Hybel, ch. 2). Based on this understanding, norm entrepreneurs usually frame issues in a way that can associate and resonate with the shared value of the targeted novices (Payne 43). For example, Finnemore’s research shows that when it promoted the creation of state science bureaucracies in the 1960s, UNESCO associated professional science policy-making with the appropriate role of a modern state, which was well received by the post-war developing countries in Latin America, the Middle East, and Southeast Asia (Finnemore 565-597). Socialisation can also emanate actors’ pro-norm behaviour through a cost-benefit calculation made with social rewards and punishments (social influence). A normative community can use the mechanism of back-patting and opprobrium to distribute social reward and punishment. Back-patting – ‘recognition, praise and normative support’ – is offered for a novice’s or member’s cooperative and pro-norm behaviour (Johnston, “Treating International Institutions” 503). In contrast, opprobrium associated with status denial and identity rejection can create social and psychological costs (Johnston 504). Both the reward and punishment grow in intensity with the number of co-operators (Johnston 504). A larger community can often create more criticism towards rule-breakers, and thus greatly increase the cost of disobedience. For instance, the lack of full commitment from major powers, such as China, the United States, and some other OECD countries, has arguably made global collective action towards mitigating climate change more difficult, as the cost of non-compliance is relatively low. While being in a normative environment, novice or emerging states that have not yet been socialised into the international community can respond to persuasion and social influence through the processes of identification and mimicking. Social psychology indicates that when one actor accepts persuasion or social influence based on its desire to build or maintain a ‘satisfying self-defining relationship’ to another actor, the mechanism of identification starts to work (Kelman 53). Identification among a social group can generate ‘obligatory’ behaviour, where individual states make decisions by attempting to match their perceptions of ‘who they are’ (national identity) with the expectation of the normative community (Glodgeier and Tetlock 82). After identifying with the normative community, a novice state would then mimic peer states’ pro-norm behaviour in order to be considered as a qualified member of the social group. For example, when the Chinese government was deliberating over its ratification of the Cartagena Protocol on Biosafety in 2003, a Ministry of Environmental Protection brief noted that China should ratify the Protocol as soon as possible because China had always been a country ‘keeping its word’ in international society, and non-ratification would largely ‘undermine China’s international image and reputation’ (Ministry of Environmental Protection of PRC). Despite the domestic industry’s disagreement with entering into the Protocol, the Chinese government’s self-identification as a ‘responsible state’ that performs its international promises and duties played an important role in China’s adoption of the international norm of biosafety. Domestic Salience of International Norms: How Do States Wear the ‘Uniforms’ Differently? Individual states do not accept international norms passively; instead, state governments often negotiate and interact with domestic actors, such as major industries and interest groups, whose actions and understandings in turn impact on how the norm is understood and implemented. This in turn feeds back to the larger normative community and creates variations of those norms. There are three main factors that can contribute to the domestic salience of an international norm. First, as the norm-takers, domestic actors can decide whether and to what extent an international norm can enter the domestic agenda and how it will be implemented in policy-making. These actors tend to favour an international norm that can justify their political and social programs and promote their interests in domestic policy debates (Cortell and Davis, “How Do International Institutions Matter?” 453). By advocating the existence and adoption of an international norm, domestic actors attempt to enhance the legitimacy and authority of their current policy or institution (Acharya, “How Ideas Spread” 248). Political elites can strengthen state legitimacy by complying with an international norm in their policy-making, and consequently obtain international approval with reputation, trust, and credibility as social benefits in the international community (Finnemore and Sikkink 903). For example, when the UN General Assembly adopted the Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP), only four states – Australia, Canada, New Zealand, and the United States – voted against the Declaration. They argued that their constitutional and national policies were sufficiently responsive to the type of Indigenous self-determination envisioned by UNDRIP. Nevertheless, given the opprobrium directed against these states by the international community, and their well-organised Indigenous populations, the four state leaders recognised the value of supporting UNDRIP. Subsequently all four states adopted the Declaration, but in each instance state leaders observed UNDRIP’s ‘aspirational’ rather than legal status; UNDRIP was a statement of values that these states’ policies should seek to incorporate into their domestic Indigenous law. Second, the various cultural, political, and institutional strategies of domestic actors can influence the effectiveness of norm empowerment. Political rhetoric and political institutions are usually created and used to promote a norm domestically. Both state and societal leaders can make the performative speech act of an international norm work and raise its importance in a national context by repeated declarations on the legitimacy and obligations brought by the norm (Cortell and Davis, “Understanding the Domestic Impact” 76). Moreover, domestic actors can also develop or modify political institutions to incorporate an international norm into the domestic bureaucratic or legal system (Cortell and Davis, “Understanding the Domestic Impact” 76). These institutions provide rules for domestic actors and articulate their rights and obligations, which transforms the international norm’s legitimacy and authority into local practices. For example, the New Zealand Government adopted a non-nuclear policy in the 1980s. This policy arose from the non-nuclear movement that was leading the development of the Raratonga Treaty (South Pacific Nuclear Free Zone) and peace and Green party movements across Europe who sought to de-nuclearise the European continent. The Lange Labour Government’s 1984 adoption of an NZ anti-nuclear policy gained impetus because of these larger norm movements, and these movements in turn recognised the normative importance of a smaller power in international relations. Third, the characteristics of the international norm can also impact on the likelihood that the norm will be accepted by domestic actors. A ‘cultural match’ between international norm and local values can facilitate norm diffusion to domestic level. Sociologists suggest that norm diffusion is more likely to be successful if the norm is congruent with the prior values and practices of the norm-taker (Acharya, “Asian Regional Institutions” 14). Norm diffusion tends to be more efficient when there is a high degree of cultural match such that the global norm resonates with the target country’s domestic values, beliefs or understandings, which in turn can be reflected in national discourse, as well as the legal and bureaucratic system (Checkel 87; Cortell and Davis, “Understanding the Domestic Impact” 73). With such cultural consistency, domestic actors are more likely to accept an international norm and treat it as a given or as ‘matter-of-fact’ (Cortell and Davis, “Understanding the Domestic Impact” 74). Cultural match in norm localisation explains why identical or similar international socialisation processes can lead to quite different local developments and variations of international norms. The debate between universal human rights and the ‘Asian values’ of human rights is an example where some Asian states, such as Singapore and China, prioritise citizen’s economic rights over social and political rights and embrace collective rights instead of individual rights. Cultural match can also explain why one country may easily accept a certain international norm, or some aspect of one particular norm, while rejecting others. For example, when Taiwanese and Japanese governments adapted the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples into their local political and legal practice, various cultural aspects of Indigenous rights have been more thoroughly implemented compared to indigenous economic and political rights (Gao et al. 60-65). In some extreme cases, the norm entrepreneurs even attempt to change the local culture of norm recipients to create a better cultural match for norm localisation. For example, when it tried to socialise India into its colonial system in the early nineteenth century, Britain successfully shaped the evolution of Indian political culture by adding British values and practices into India’s social, political, and judicial system (Ikenberry and Kupchan 307-309). The International Normative Community: Would States Continue Wearing ‘Uniforms’? International norms evolve. Not every international norm can survive and sustain. For example, while imperialism and colonial expansion, where various European states explored, conquered, settled, and exploited other parts of the world, was a widely accepted idea and practice in the nineteenth century, state sovereignty, equality, and individual rights have replaced imperialism and become the prevailing norms in international society today. The meanings of the same international norm can evolve as well. The Great Powers first established the post-war international norms of ‘state responsibility’ based on the idea of sovereign equality and non-intervention of domestic affairs. However, the 1980s saw the emergence of many international organisations, which built new standards and offered new meanings for a responsible state in international society: a responsible state must actively participate in international organisations and comply with international regimes. In the post-Cold War era, international society has paid more attention to states’ responsibility to offer global common goods and to promote the values of human rights and democracy. This shift of focus has changed the international expectation of state responsibility again to embrace collective goods and global values (Foot, “Chinese Power” 3-11). In addition to the nature and evolution of international norms, the unity and strength of the normative community can also affect states’ compliance with the norms. The growing size of the community group or the number of other cooperatives can amplify the effect of socialisation (Johnston, “Treating International Institutions” 503-506). In other words, individual states are often more concerned about their national image, reputation and identity regarding norm compliance when a critical mass of states have already subscribed into the international norm. How much could this critical mass be? Finnemore and Sikkink suggest that international norms reach the threshold global acceptance when the norm entrepreneurs have persuaded at least one third of all states to adopt the new norm (901). The veto record of the United Nation Security Council (UNSC) shows this impact. China, for example, has cast a UNSC veto vote 17 times as of 2022, but it has rarely excised its veto power alone (Security Council Report). For instance, though being sceptical of the notion of ‘Responsibility to Protect’, which prioritises human right over state sovereignty, China did not veto Resolution 1973 (2011) regarding the Libyan civil war. The Resolution allowed the international society to take ‘all necessary measure to protect civilians’ from a failed state government, and it received wide support among UNSC members (no negative votes from the other 14 members). Moreover, states are not entirely equal in terms of their ‘normative weight’. When Great Powers act as norm entrepreneurs, they can usually utilise their wealth and influence to better socialise other norm novice states. In the history of promoting biological diversity norms which are embedded in the Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD), the OECD countries, especially France, UK, Germany, and Japan, have been regarded as normative leaders. French and Japanese political leaders employed normative language (such as ‘need’ and ‘must’) in various international forums to promote the norms and to highlight their normative commitment (see e.g. Chirac; Kan). Additionally, both governments provided financial assistance for developing countries to adopt the biodiversity norms. In the 2011 annual review of CBD, Japan reaffirmed its US$12 million contribution to assisting developing countries (Secretariat of the Convention on Biological Diversity 9). France joined Japan’s commitment by announcing a financial contribution of €1 million along, with some additional funding from Norway and Switzerland (Secretariat of the Convention on Biological Diversity 9). Today, biological diversity has been one of the most widely accepted international environmental norms, which 196 states/nations have ratified (United Nations). While Great Powers can make more substantial contributions to norm diffusion compared to many smaller powers with limited state capacity, Great Powers’ non-compliance with the normative ‘uniform’ can also significantly undermine the international norms’ validity and the normative community’s unity and reputation. The current normative community of climate change is hardly a unified one, as it is characterised by a low degree of consensus. Major industrial countries, such as the United States, Canada, and Australia, have not yet reached an agreement concerning their individual responsibilities for reducing greenhouse emissions. This lack of agreement, which includes the amount of cuts, the feasibility and usefulness of such cuts, and the relative sharing of cuts across various states, is complicated by the fact that large developing countries, such as China, Brazil, and India, also hold different opinions towards climate change regimes (see Vidal et al.). Experts heavily criticised the major global powers, such as the European Union and the United States, for their lack of ambition in phasing out fossil fuels during the 2022 climate summit in Egypt (COP27; Ehsan et al.). In international trade, both China and the United States are among the leading powers because of their large trade volume, capacity, and transnational network; however, both countries have recently undermined the world trade system and norms. China took punitive measures against Australian export products after Australia’s Covid-19 inquiry request at the World Health Organisation. The United States, particularly under the Trump Administration, invoked the WTO national security exception in Article XXI of the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT) to justify its tariffs on steel and aluminium. Lastly, norm diffusion and socialisation can be a ‘two-way path,’ especially when the norm novice state is a powerful and influential state in the international system. In this case, the novices are not merely assimilated into the group, but can also successfully exert some influence on other group members and affect intra-group relations (Moreland 1174). As such, the novices can be both targets of socialisation and active agents who can shape the content and outcome of socialisation processes (Pu 344). The influence from the novices can create normative contestation and thus influence the norm evolution (Thies 547). In other words, novice states can influence international society and shape the international norm during the socialisation process. For example, the ‘ASEAN Way’ is a set of norms that regulate member states’ relationships within the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN). It establishes a diplomatic and security culture characterised by informality, consultation, and dialogue, and consensus-building in decision-making processes (Caballero-Anthony). From its interaction with ASEAN, China has been socialised into the ‘ASEAN Way’ (Ba 157-159). Nevertheless, China’s relations with the ASEAN Regional Forum (ARF) also suggest that there exists a ‘feedback’ process between China and ARF which resulted in institutional changes in ARF to accommodate China’s response (Johnston, “The Myth of the ASEAN Way?” 291). For another example, while the Western powers generally promote the norm of ‘shared responsibility’ in global environment regimes, the emerging economies, such as the BRICS countries (Brazil, Russia, India, China, and South Africa), have responded to the normative engagement and proposed a ‘Common but Differentiated Responsibilities’ regime where the developing countries shoulder less international obligations. Similarly, the Western-led norm of ‘Responsibility to Protect’, which justifies international humanitarian intervention, has received much resistance from the countries that only adhere to the conventional international rules regarding state sovereignty rights and non-intervention to domestic affairs. Conclusion International norms are shared expectations about what constitutes appropriate state behaviour. They are the ‘uniforms’ for individual states to wear when operating at the international level. States comply with international norms in order to affirm their preferred national identities as well as to gain social acceptance and reputation in the normative community. When the normative community is united and sizable, states tend to receive more social pressure to consistently wear these normative uniforms – be they the Geneva Conventions or nuclear non-proliferation. Nevertheless, in the post-pandemic world where liberal values, such as individual rights and rule of law, face significant challenges and democracies are in decline, the future success of the global normative community may be at risk. Great Powers are especially responsible for the survival and sustainability of international norms. The United States under President Trump adopted a nationalist ‘America First’ security agenda: alienating traditional allies, befriending authoritarian regimes previously shunned, and rejecting multilateralism as the foundation of the post-war global order. While the West has been criticised of failing to live up to its declared values, and has suffered its own loss of confidence in the liberal model, the rising powers have offered their alternative version of the world system. Instead of merely adapting to the Western-led global norms, China has created new institutions, such as the Belt and Road Initiatives, to promote its own preferred values, and has reshaped the global order where it deems the norms undesirable (Foot, “Chinese Power in a Changing World Order” 7). Great Power participation has reshaped the landscape of global normative community, and sadly not always in positive ways. Umberto Eco lamented the disappearance of the beauty of the past in his novel The Name of the Rose: ‘stat rosa pristina nomine, nomina nuda tenemus’ ('yesterday’s rose endures in its name, we hold empty names'; Eco 538). If the international community does not want to witness an era where global norms and universal values are reduced to nominalist symbols, it must renew and reinvigorate its commitment to global values, such as human rights and democracy. It must consider wearing these uniforms again, properly. 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The Alt Right Are Not Alright Academic explorations complicating both the Internet and whiteness have often focussed on the rise of the “alt-right” to examine the co-option of digital technologies to extend white supremacy (Daniels, “Cyber Racism”; Daniels, “Algorithmic Rise”; Nagle). The term “alt-right” refers to media organisations, personalities, and sarcastic Internet users who promote the “alternative right”, understood as extremely conservative, political views online. The alt-right, in all of their online variations and inter-grouping, are infamous for supporting white supremacy online, “characterized by heavy use of social media and online memes. Alt-righters eschew ‘establishment’ conservatism, skew young, and embrace white ethnonationalism as a fundamental value” (Southern Poverty Law Center). Theoretical studies of the alt-right have largely focussed on its growing presence across social media and websites such as Twitter, Reddit, and notoriously “chan” sites 4chan and 8chan, through the political discussions referred to as “threads” on the site (Nagle; Daniels, “Algorithmic Rise”; Hawley). As well, the ability of online users to surpass national boundaries and spread global white supremacy through the Internet has also been studied (Back et al.). The alt-right have found a home on the Internet, using its features to cunningly recruit members and to establish a growing community that mainstream politically extreme views (Daniels, “Cyber Racism”; Daniels, “Algorithmic Rise; Munn). This body of knowledge shows that academics have been able to produce critically relevant literature regarding the alt-right despite the online anonymity of the majority of its members. For example, Conway et al., in their analysis of the history and social media patterns of the alt-right, follow the unique nature of the Christchurch Massacre, encompassing the use and development of message boards, fringe websites, and social media sites to champion white supremacy online. Positioning my research in this literature, I am interested in contributing further knowledge regarding the alt-right, white supremacy, and the Internet by exploring the sinister conducting of Zoom-bombing anti-racist events. Here, I will investigate how white supremacy through the Internet can lead to violence, abuse, and fear that “transcends the virtual world to damage real, live humans beings” via Zoom-bombing, an act that is situated in a larger co-option of the Internet by the alt-right and white supremacists, but has been under theorised as a hate crime (Daniels; “Cyber Racism” 7). Shitposting I want to preface this chapter by acknowledging that while I understand the Internet, through my own external investigations of race, power and the Internet, as a series of entities that produce racial violence both online and offline, I am aware of the use of the Internet to frame, discuss, and share anti-racist activism. Here we can turn to the work of philosopher Michel de Certeau who conceived the idea of a “tactic” as a way to construct a space of agency in opposition to institutional power. This becomes a way that marginalised groups, such as racialised peoples, can utilise the Internet as a tactical material to assert themselves and their non-compliance with the state. Particularly, shitposting, a tactic often associated with the alt-right, has also been co-opted by those who fight for social justice and rally against oppression both online and offline. As Roderick Graham explores, the Internet, and for this exploration, shitposting, can be used to proliferate deviant and racist material but also as a “deviant” byway of oppositional and anti-racist material. Despite this, a lot can be said about the invisible yet present claims and support of whiteness through Internet and digital technologies, as well as the activity of users channelled through these screens, such as the alt-right and their digital tactics. As Vikki Fraser remarks, “the internet assumes whiteness as the norm – whiteness is made visible through what is left unsaid, through the assumption that white need not be said” (120). It is through the lens of white privilege and claims to white supremacy that online irony, by way of shitposting, is co-opted and understood as an inherently alt-right tool, through the deviance it entails. Their sinister co-option of shitposting bolsters audacious claims as to who has the right to exist, in their support of white identity, but also hides behind a veil of mischief that can hide their more insidious intention and political ideologies. The alt-right have used “shitposting”, an online style of posting and interacting with other users, to create a form of online communication for a translocal identity of white nationalist members. Sean McEwan defines shitposting as “a form of Internet interaction predicated upon thwarting established norms of discourse in favour of seemingly anarchic, poor quality contributions” (19). Far from being random, however, I argue that shitposting functions as a discourse that is employed by online communities to discuss, proliferate, and introduce white supremacist ideals among their communities as well as into the mainstream. In the course of this article, I will introduce racist Zoom-bombing as a tactic situated in shitposting which can be used as a means of white supremacist discourse and an attempt to block anti-racist efforts. By this line, the function of discourse as one “to preserve or to reproduce discourse (within) a closed community” is calculatingly met through shitposting, Zoom-bombing, and more overt forms of white supremacy online (Foucault 225-226). Using memes, dehumanisation, and sarcasm, online white supremacists have created a means of both organising and mainstreaming white supremacy through humour that allows insidious themes to be mocked and then spread online. Foucault writes that “in every society the production of discourse is at once controlled, selected, organised and redistributed according to a certain number of procedures, whose role is to avert its powers and danger, to cope with chance events, to evade ponderous, awesome materiality” (216). As Philippe-Joseph Salazar recontextualises to online white supremacists, “the first procedure of control is to define what is prohibited, in essence, to set aside that which cannot be spoken about, and thus to produce strategies to counter it” (137). By this line, the alt-right reorganises these procedures and allocates a checked speech that will allow their ideas to proliferate in like-minded and growing communities. As a result, online white supremacists becoming a “community of discourse” advantages them in two ways: first, ironic language permits the mainstreaming of hate that allows sinister content to enter the public as the severity of their intentions is doubted due to the sarcastic language employed. Second, shitposting is employed as an entry gate to more serious and dangerous participation with white supremacist action, engagement, and ideologies. It is important to note that white privilege is embodied in these discursive practices as despite this exploitation of emerging technologies to further white supremacy, there are approaches that theorise the alt-right as “crazed product(s) of an isolated, extremist milieu with no links to the mainstream” (Moses 201). In this way, it is useful to consider shitposting as an informal approach that mirrors legitimised white sovereignties and authorised white supremacy. The result is that white supremacist online users succeed in “not only in assembling a community of actors and a collective of authors, on the dual territory of digital communication and grass-roots activism”, but also shape an effective fellowship of discourse that audiences react well to online, encouraging its reception and mainstreaming (Salazar 142). Continuing, as McBain writes, “someone who would not dream of donning a white cap and attending a Ku Klux Klan meeting might find themselves laughing along to a video by the alt-right satirist RamZPaul”. This idea is echoed in a leaked stylistic guide by white supremacist website and message board the Daily Stormer that highlights irony as a cultivated mechanism used to draw new audiences to the far right, step by step (Wilson). As showcased in the screen capture below of the stylistic guide, “the reader is at first drawn in by curiosity or the naughty humor and is slowly awakened to reality by repeatedly reading the same points” (Feinburg). The result of this style of writing is used “to immerse recruits in an online movement culture built on memes, racial panic and the worst of Internet culture” (Wilson). Figure 1: A screenshot of the Daily Stormer’s playbook, expanding on the stylistic decisions of alt-right writers. Racist Zoom-Bombing In the timely text “Racist Zoombombing”, Lisa Nakamura et al. write the following: Zoombombing is more than just trolling; though it belongs to a broad category of online behavior meant to produce a negative reaction, it has an intimate connection with online conspiracy theorists and white supremacy … . Zoombombing should not be lumped into the larger category of trolling, both because the word “trolling” has become so broad it is nearly meaningless at times, and because zoombombing is designed to cause intimate harm and terrorize its target in distinct ways. (30) Notwithstanding the seriousness of Zoom-bombing, and to not minimise its insidiousness by understanding it as a form of shitposting, my article seeks to reiterate the seriousness of shitposting, which, in the age of COVID-19, Zoom-bombing has become an example of. I seek to purport the insidiousness of the tactical strategies of the alt-right online in a larger context of white violence online. Therefore, I am proposing a more critical look at the tactical use of the Internet by the alt-right, in theorising shitposting and Zoom-bombing as means of hate crimes wherein they impose upon anti-racist activism and organising. Newlands et al., receiving only limited exposure pre-pandemic, write that “Zoom has become a household name and an essential component for parties (Matyszczyk, 2020), weddings (Pajer, 2020), school and work” (1). However, through this came the strategic use of co-opting the application by the alt-right to digitise terror and ensure a “growing framework of memetic warfare” (Nakamura et al. 31). Kruglanski et al. label this co-opting of online tools to champion white supremacy operations via Zoom-bombing an example of shitposting: Not yet protesting the lockdown orders in front of statehouses, far-right extremists infiltrated Zoom calls and shared their screens, projecting violent and graphic imagery such as swastikas and pornography into the homes of unsuspecting attendees and making it impossible for schools to rely on Zoom for home-based lessons. Such actions, known as “Zoombombing,” were eventually curtailed by Zoom features requiring hosts to admit people into Zoom meetings as a default setting with an option to opt-out. (128) By this, we can draw on existing literature that has theorised white supremacists as innovation opportunists regarding their co-option of the Internet, as supported through Jessie Daniels’s work, “during the shift of the white supremacist movement from print to digital online users exploited emerging technologies to further their ideological goals” (“Algorithmic Rise” 63). Selfe and Selfe write in their description of the computer interface as a “political and ideological boundary land” that may serve larger cultural systems of domination in much the same way that geopolitical borders do (418). Considering these theorisations of white supremacists utilising tools that appear neutral for racialised aims and the political possibilities of whiteness online, we can consider racist Zoom-bombing as an assertion of a battle that seeks to disrupt racial justice online but also assert white supremacy as its own legitimate cause. My first encounter of local Zoom-bombing was during the Institute for Culture and Society (ICS) Seminar titled “Intersecting Crises” by Western Sydney University. The event sought to explore the concatenation of deeply inextricable ecological, political, economic, racial, and social crises. An academic involved in the facilitation of the event, Alana Lentin, live tweeted during the Zoom-bombing of the event: Figure 2: Academic Alana Lentin on Twitter live tweeting the Zoom-bombing of the Intersecting Crises event. Upon reflecting on this instance, I wondered, could efforts have been organised to prevent white supremacy? In considering who may or may not be responsible for halting racist shit-posting, we can problematise the work of R David Lankes, who writes that “Zoom-bombing is when inadequate security on the part of the person organizing a video conference allows uninvited users to join and disrupt a meeting. It can be anything from a prankster logging on, yelling, and logging off to uninvited users” (217). However, this beckons two areas to consider in theorising racist Zoom-bombing as a means of isolated trolling. First, this approach to Zoom-bombing minimises the sinister intentions of Zoom-bombing when referring to people as pranksters. Albeit withholding the “mimic trickery and mischief that were already present in spaces such as real-life classrooms and town halls” it may be more useful to consider theorising Zoom-bombing as often racialised harassment and a counter aggression to anti-racist initiatives (Nakamura et al. 30). Due to the live nature of most Zoom meetings, it is increasingly difficult to halt the threat of the alt-right from Zoom-bombing meetings. In “A First Look at Zoom-bombings” a range of preventative strategies are encouraged for Zoom organisers including “unique meeting links for each participant, although we acknowledge that this has usability implications and might not always be feasible” (Ling et al. 1). The alt-right exploit gaps, akin to co-opting the mainstreaming of trolling and shitposting, to put forward their agenda on white supremacy and assert their presence when not welcome. Therefore, utilising the pandemic to instil new forms of terror, it can be said that Zoom-bombing becomes a new means to shitpost, where the alt-right “exploits Zoom’s uniquely liminal space, a space of intimacy generated by users via the relationship between the digital screen and what it can depict, the device’s audio tools and how they can transmit and receive sound, the software that we can see, and the software that we can’t” (Nakamura et al. 29). Second, this definition of Zoom-bombing begs the question, is this a fair assessment to write that reiterates the blame of organisers? Rather, we can consider other gaps that have resulted in the misuse of Zoom co-opted by the alt-right: “two conditions have paved the way for Zoom-bombing: a resurgent fascist movement that has found its legs and best megaphone on the Internet and an often-unwitting public who have been suddenly required to spend many hours a day on this platform” (Nakamura et al. 29). In this way, it is interesting to note that recommendations to halt Zoom-bombing revolve around the energy, resources, and attention of the organisers to practically address possible threats, rather than the onus being placed on those who maintain these systems and those who Zoom-bomb. As Jessie Daniels states, “we should hold the platform accountable for this type of damage that it's facilitated. It's the platform's fault and it shouldn't be left to individual users who are making Zoom millions, if not billions, of dollars right now” (Ruf 8). Brian Friedberg, Gabrielle Lim, and Joan Donovan explore the organised efforts by the alt-right to impose on Zoom events and disturb schedules: “coordinated raids of Zoom meetings have become a social activity traversing the networked terrain of multiple platforms and web spaces. Raiders coordinate by sharing links to Zoom meetings targets and other operational and logistical details regarding the execution of an attack” (14). By encouraging a mass coordination of racist Zoom-bombing, in turn, social justice organisers are made to feel overwhelmed and that their efforts will be counteracted inevitably by a large and organised group, albeit appearing prankster-like. Aligning with the idea that “Zoombombing conceals and contains the terror and psychological harm that targets of active harassment face because it doesn’t leave a trace unless an alert user records the meeting”, it is useful to consider to what extent racist Zoom-bombing becomes a new weapon of the alt-right to entertain and affirm current members, and engage and influence new members (Nakamura et al. 34). I propose that we consider Zoom-bombing through shitposting, which is within “the location of matrix of domination (white supremacy, heteropatriarchy, ableism, capitalism, and settler colonialism)” to challenge the role of interface design and Internet infrastructure in enabling racial violence online (Costanza-Chock). Conclusion As Nakamura et al. have argued, Zoom-bombing is indeed “part of the lineage or ecosystem of trollish behavior”, yet these new forms of alt-right shitposting “[need] to be critiqued and understood as more than simply trolling because this term emerged during an earlier, less media-rich and interpersonally live Internet” (32). I recommend theorising the alt-right in a way that highlights the larger structures of white power, privilege, and supremacy that maintain their online and offline legacies beyond Zoom, “to view white supremacy not as a static ideology or condition, but to instead focus on its geographic and temporal contingency” that allows acts of hate crime by individuals on politicised bodies (Inwood and Bonds 722). This corresponds with Claire Renzetti’s argument that “criminologists theorise that committing a hate crime is a means of accomplishing a particular type of power, hegemonic masculinity, which is described as white, Christian, able-bodied and heterosexual” – an approach that can be applied to theorisations of the alt-right and online violence (136). This violent white masculinity occupies a hegemonic hold in the formation, reproduction, and extension of white supremacy that is then shared, affirmed, and idolised through a racialised Internet (Donaldson et al.). Therefore, I recommend that we situate Zoom-bombing as a means of shitposting, by reiterating the severity of shitposting with the same intentions and sinister goals of hate crimes and racial violence. References Back, Les, et al. “Racism on the Internet: Mapping Neo-Fascist Subcultures in Cyber-Space.” Nation and Race: The Developing Euro-American Racist Subculture. Eds. Jeffrey Kaplan and Tore Bjørgo. 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Introduction: Bubbles and Sport The ephemeral materiality of bubbles – beautiful, spectacular, and distracting but ultimately fragile – when applied to protect or conserve in the interests of sport-media profit, creates conditions that exacerbate existing inequalities in sport and society. Bubbles are usually something to watch, admire, and chase after in their brief yet shiny lives. There is supposed to be, technically, nothing inside them other than one or more gasses, and yet we constantly refer to people and objects being inside bubbles. The metaphor of the bubble has been used to describe the life of celebrities, politicians in purpose-built capital cities like Canberra, and even leftist, environmentally activist urban dwellers. The metaphorical and material qualities of bubbles are aligned—they cannot be easily captured and are liable to change at any time. In this article we address the metaphorical sporting bubble, which is often evoked in describing life in professional sport. This is a vernacular term used to capture and condemn the conditions of life of elite sportspeople (usually men), most commonly after there has been a sport-related scandal, especially of a sexual nature (Rowe). It is frequently paired with connotatively loaded adjectives like pampered and indulged. The sporting bubble is rarely interrogated in academic literature, the concept largely being left to the media and moral entrepreneurs. It is represented as involving a highly privileged but also pressurised life for those who live inside it. A sporting bubble is a world constructed for its most prized inhabitants that enables them to be protected from insurgents and to set the terms of their encounters with others, especially sport fans and disciplinary agents of the state. The Covid-19 pandemic both reinforced and reconfigured the operational concept of the bubble, re-arranging tensions between safety (protecting athletes) and fragility (short careers, risks of injury, etc.) for those within, while safeguarding those without from bubble contagion. Privilege and Precarity Bubble-induced social isolation, critics argue, encourages a loss of perspective among those under its protection, an entitled disconnection from the usual rules and responsibilities of everyday life. For this reason, the denizens of the sporting bubble are seen as being at risk to themselves and, more troublingly, to those allowed temporarily to penetrate it, especially young women who are first exploited by and then ejected from it (Benedict). There are many well-documented cases of professional male athletes “behaving badly” and trying to rely on institutional status and various versions of the sporting bubble for shelter (Flood and Dyson; Reel and Crouch; Wade). In the age of mobile and social media, it is increasingly difficult to keep misbehaviour in-house, resulting in a slew of media stories about, for example, drunkenness and sexual misconduct, such as when then-Sydney Roosters co-captain Mitchell Pearce was suspended and fined in 2016 after being filmed trying to force an unwanted kiss on a woman and then simulating a lewd act with her dog while drunk. There is contestation between those who condemn such behaviour as aberrant and those who regard it as the conventional expression of youthful masculinity as part of the familiar “boys will be boys” dictum. The latter naturalise an inequitable gender order, frequently treating sportsmen as victims of predatory women, and ignoring asymmetries of power between men and women, especially in homosocial environments (Toffoletti). For those in the sporting bubble (predominantly elite sportsmen and highly paid executives, also mostly men, with an array of service staff of both sexes moving in and out of it), life is reflected for those being protected via an array of screens (small screens in homes and indoor places of entertainment, and even smaller screens on theirs and others’ phones, as well as huge screens at sport events). These male sport stars are paid handsomely to use their skill and strength to perform for the sporting codes, their every facial expression and bodily action watched by the media and relayed to audiences. This is often a precarious existence, the usually brief career of an athlete worker being dependent on health, luck, age, successful competition with rivals, networks, and club and coach preferences. There is a large, aspirational reserve army of athletes vying to play at the elite level, despite risks of injury and invasive, life-changing medical interventions. Responsibility for avoiding performance and image enhancing drugs (PIEDs) also weighs heavily on their shoulders (Connor). Professional sportspeople, in their more reflective moments, know that their time in the limelight will soon be up, meaning that getting a ticket to the sporting bubble, even for a short time, can make all the difference to their post-sport lives and those of their families. The most vulnerable of the small minority of participants in sport who make a good, short-term living from it are those for whom, in the absence of quality education and prior social status, it is their sole likely means of upward social mobility (Spaaij). Elite sport performers are surrounded by minders, doctors, fitness instructors, therapists, coaches, advisors and other service personnel, all supporting athletes to stay focussed on and maximise performance quality to satisfy co-present crowds, broadcasters, sponsors, sports bodies and mass media audiences. The shield offered by the sporting bubble supports the teleological win-at-all-costs mentality of professional sport. The stakes are high, with athlete and executive salaries, sponsorships and broadcasting deals entangled in a complex web of investments in keeping the “talent” pivotal to the “attention economy” (Davenport and Beck)—the players that provide the content for sale—in top form. Yet, the bubble cannot be entirely secured and poor behaviour or performance can have devastating effects, including permanent injury or disability, mental illness and loss of reputation (Rowe, “Scandals and Sport”). Given this fragile materiality of the sporting bubble, it is striking that, in response to the sudden shutdown following the economic and health crisis caused by the 2020 global pandemic, the leaders of professional sport decided to create more of them and seek to seal the metaphorical and material space with unprecedented efficiency. The outcome was a multi-sided tale of mobility, confinement, capital, labour, and the gendering of sport and society. The Covid-19 Gilded Cage Sociologists such as Zygmunt Bauman and John Urry have analysed the socio-politics of mobilities, whereby some people in the world, such as tourists, can traverse the globe at their leisure, while others remain fixed in geographical space because they lack the means to be mobile or, in contrast, are involuntarily displaced by war, so-called “ethnic cleansing”, famine, poverty or environmental degradation. The Covid-19 global pandemic re-framed these matters of mobilities (Rowe, “Subjecting Pandemic Sport”), with conventional moving around—between houses, businesses, cities, regions and countries—suddenly subjected to the imperative to be static and, in perniciously unreflective technocratic discourse, “socially distanced” (when what was actually meant was to be “physically distanced”). The late-twentieth century analysis of the “risk society” by Ulrich Beck, in which the mysterious consequences of humans’ predation on their environment are visited upon them with terrifying force, was dramatically realised with the coming of Covid-19. In another iteration of the metaphor, it burst the bubble of twenty-first century global sport. What we today call sport was formed through the process of sportisation (Maguire), whereby hyper-local, folk physical play was reconfigured as multi-spatial industrialised sport in modernity, becoming increasingly reliant on individual athletes and teams travelling across the landscape and well over the horizon. Co-present crowds were, in turn, overshadowed in the sport economy when sport events were taken to much larger, dispersed audiences via the media, especially in broadcast mode (Nicholson, Kerr, and Sherwood). This lucrative mediation of professional sport, though, came with an unforgiving obligation to generate an uninterrupted supply of spectacular live sport content. The pandemic closed down most sports events and those that did take place lacked the crucial participation of the co-present crowd to provide the requisite event atmosphere demanded by those viewers accustomed to a sense of occasion. Instead, they received a strange spectacle of sport performers operating in empty “cathedrals”, often with a “faked” crowd presence. The mediated sport spectacle under the pandemic involved cardboard cut-out and sex doll spectators, Zoom images of fans on large screens, and sampled sounds of the crowd recycled from sport video games. Confected co-presence produced simulacra of the “real” as Baudrillardian visions came to life. The sporting bubble had become even more remote. For elite sportspeople routinely isolated from the “common people”, the live sport encounter offered some sensory experience of the social – the sounds, sights and even smells of the crowd. Now the sporting bubble closed in on an already insulated and insular existence. It exposed the irony of the bubble as a sign of both privileged mobility and incarcerated athlete work, both refuge and prison. Its logic of contagion also turned a structure intended to protect those inside from those outside into, as already observed, a mechanism to manage the threat of insiders to outsiders. In Australia, as in many other countries, the populace was enjoined by governments and health authorities to help prevent the spread of Covid-19 through isolation and immobility. There were various exceptions, principally those classified as essential workers, a heterogeneous cohort ranging from supermarket shelf stackers to pharmacists. People in the cultural, leisure and sports industries, including musicians, actors, and athletes, were not counted among this crucial labour force. Indeed, the performing arts (including dance, theatre and music) were put on ice with quite devastating effects on the livelihoods and wellbeing of those involved. So, with all major sports shut down (the exception being horse racing, which received the benefit both of government subsidies and expanding online gambling revenue), sport organisations began to represent themselves as essential services that could help sustain collective mental and even spiritual wellbeing. This case was made most aggressively by Australian Rugby League Commission Chairman, Peter V’landys, in contending that “an Australia without rugby league is not Australia”. In similar vein, prominent sport and media figure Phil Gould insisted, when describing rugby league fans in Western Sydney’s Penrith, “they’re lost, because the football’s not on … . It holds their families together. People don’t understand that … . Their life begins in the second week of March, and it ends in October”. Despite misgivings about public safety and equality before the pandemic regime, sporting bubbles were allowed to form, re-form and circulate. The indefinite shutdown of the National Rugby League (NRL) on 23 March 2020 was followed after negotiation between multiple entities by its reopening on 28 May 2020. The competition included a team from another nation-state (the Warriors from Aotearoa/New Zealand) in creating an international sporting bubble on the Central Coast of New South Wales, separating them from their families and friends across the Tasman Sea. Appeals to the mental health of fans and the importance of the NRL to myths of “Australianness” notwithstanding, the league had not prudently maintained a financial reserve and so could not afford to shut down for long. Significant gambling revenue for leagues like the NRL and Australian Football League (AFL) also influenced the push to return to sport business as usual. Sport contests were needed in order to exploit the gambling opportunities – especially online and mobile – stimulated by home “confinement”. During the coronavirus lockdowns, Australians’ weekly spending on gambling went up by 142 per cent, and the NRL earned significantly more than usual from gambling revenue—potentially $10 million above forecasts for 2020. Despite the clear financial imperative at play, including heavy reliance on gambling, sporting bubble-making involved special licence. The state of Queensland, which had pursued a hard-line approach by closing its borders for most of those wishing to cross them for biographical landmark events like family funerals and even for medical treatment in border communities, became “the nation's sporting hub”. Queensland became the home of most teams of the men’s AFL (notably the women’s AFLW season having been cancelled) following a large Covid-19 second wave in Melbourne. The women’s National Netball League was based exclusively in Queensland. This state, which for the first time hosted the AFL Grand Final, deployed sport as a tool in both national sports tourism marketing and internal pre-election politics, sponsoring a documentary, The Sporting Bubble 2020, via its Tourism and Events arm. While Queensland became the larger bubble incorporating many other sporting bubbles, both the AFL and the NRL had versions of the “fly in, fly out” labour rhythms conventionally associated with the mining industry in remote and regional areas. In this instance, though, the bubble experience did not involve long stays in miners’ camps or even the one-night hotel stopovers familiar to the popular music and sport industries. Here, the bubble moved, usually by plane, to fulfil the requirements of a live sport “gig”, whereupon it was immediately returned to its more solid bubble hub or to domestic self-isolation. In the space created between disciplined expectation and deplored non-compliance, the sporting bubble inevitably became the scrutinised object and subject of scandal. Sporting Bubble Scandals While people with a very low risk of spreading Covid-19 (coming from areas with no active cases) were denied entry to Queensland for even the most serious of reasons (for example, the death of a child), images of AFL players and their families socialising and enjoying swimming at the Royal Pines Resort sporting bubble crossed our screens. Yet, despite their (players’, officials’ and families’) relative privilege and freedom of movement under the AFL Covid-Safe Plan, some players and others inside the bubble were involved in “scandals”. Most notable was the case of a drunken brawl outside a Gold Coast strip club which led to two Richmond players being “banished”, suspended for 10 matches, and the club fined $100,000. But it was not only players who breached Covid-19 bubble protocols: Collingwood coaches Nathan Buckley and Brenton Sanderson paid the $50,000 fine imposed on the club for playing tennis in Perth outside their bubble, while Richmond was fined $45,000 after Brooke Cotchin, wife of team captain Trent, posted an image to Instagram of a Gold Coast day spa that she had visited outside the “hub” (the institutionally preferred term for bubble). She was subsequently distressed after being trolled. Also of concern was the lack of physical distancing, and the range of people allowed into the sporting bubble, including babysitters, grandparents, and swimming coaches (for children). There were other cases of players being caught leaving the bubble to attend parties and sharing videos of their “antics” on social media. Biosecurity breaches of bubbles by players occurred relatively frequently, with stern words from both the AFL and NRL leaders (and their clubs) and fines accumulating in the thousands of dollars. Some people were also caught sneaking into bubbles, with Lekahni Pearce, the girlfriend of Swans player Elijah Taylor, stating that it was easy in Perth, “no security, I didn’t see a security guard” (in Barron, Stevens, and Zaczek) (a month later, outside the bubble, they had broken up and he pled guilty to unlawfully assaulting her; Ramsey). Flouting the rules, despite stern threats from government, did not lead to any bubble being popped. The sport-media machine powering sporting bubbles continued to run, the attendant emotional or health risks accepted in the name of national cultural therapy, while sponsorship, advertising and gambling revenue continued to accumulate mostly for the benefit of men. Gendering Sporting Bubbles Designed as biosecurity structures to maintain the supply of media-sport content, keep players and other vital cogs of the machine running smoothly, and to exclude Covid-19, sporting bubbles were, in their most advanced form, exclusive luxury camps that illuminated the elevated socio-cultural status of sportsmen. The ongoing inequalities between men’s and women’s sport in Australia and around the world were clearly in evidence, as well as the politics of gender whereby women are obliged to “care” and men are enabled to be “careless” – or at least to manage carefully their “duty of care”. In Australia, the only sport for women that continued during the height of the Covid-19 lockdown was netball, which operated in a bubble that was one of sacrifice rather than privilege. With minimum salaries of only $30,000 – significantly less than the lowest-paid “rookies” in the AFL – and some being mothers of small children and/or with professional jobs juggled alongside their netball careers, these elite sportswomen wanted to continue to play despite the personal inconvenience or cost (Pavlidis). Not one breach of the netballers out of the bubble was reported, indicating that they took their responsibilities with appropriate seriousness and, perhaps, were subjected to less scrutiny than the sportsmen accustomed to attracting front-page headlines. National Netball League (also known after its Queensland-based naming rights sponsor as Suncorp Super Netball) players could be regarded as fortunate to have the opportunity to be in a bubble and to participate in their competition. The NRL Women’s (NRLW) Premiership season was also completed, but only involved four teams subject to fly in, fly out and bubble arrangements, and being played in so-called curtain-raiser games for the NRL. As noted earlier, the AFLW season was truncated, despite all the prior training and sacrifice required of its players. Similarly, because of their resource advantages, the UK men’s and boy’s top six tiers of association football were allowed to continue during lockdown, compared to only two for women and girls. In the United States, inequalities between men’s and women’s sports were clearly demonstrated by the conditions afforded to those elite sportswomen inside the Women’s National Basketball Association (WNBA) sport bubble in the IMG Academy in Florida. Players shared photos of rodent traps in their rooms, insect traps under their mattresses, inedible food and blocked plumbing in their bubble accommodation. These conditions were a far cry from the luxury usually afforded elite sportsmen, including in Florida’s Walt Disney World for the men’s NBA, and is just one of the many instances of how gendered inequality was both reproduced and exacerbated by Covid-19. Bursting the Bubble As we have seen, governments and corporate leaders in sport were able to create material and metaphorical bubbles during the Covid-19 lockdown in order to transmit stadium sport contests into home spaces. The rationale was the importance of sport to national identity, belonging and the routines and rhythms of life. But for whom? Many women, who still carry the major responsibilities of “care”, found that Covid-19 intensified the affective relations and gendered inequities of “home” as a leisure site (Fullagar and Pavlidis). Rates of domestic violence surged, and many women experienced significant anxiety and depression related to the stress of home confinement and home schooling. During the pandemic, women were also more likely to experience the stress and trauma of being first responders, witnessing virus-related sickness and death as the majority of nurses and care workers. They also bore the brunt of much of the economic and employment loss during this time. Also, as noted above, livelihoods in the arts and cultural sector did not receive the benefits of the “bubble”, despite having a comparable claim to sport in contributing significantly to societal wellbeing. This sector’s workforce is substantially female, although men dominate its senior roles. Despite these inequalities, after the late March to May hiatus, many elite male sportsmen – and some sportswomen - operated in a bubble. Moving in and out of them was not easy. Life inside could be mentally stressful (especially in long stays of up to 150 days in sports like cricket), and tabloid and social media troll punishment awaited those who were caught going “over the fence”. But, life in the sporting bubble was generally preferable to the daily realities of those afflicted by the trauma arising from forced home confinement, and for whom watching moving sports images was scant compensation for compulsory immobility. The ethical foundation of the sparkly, ephemeral fantasy of the sporting bubble is questionable when it is placed in the service of a voracious “media sports cultural complex” (Rowe, Global Media Sport) that consumes sport labour power and rolls back progress in gender relations as a default response to a global pandemic. Covid-19 dramatically highlighted social inequalities in many areas of life, including medical care, work, and sport. For the small minority of people involved in sport who are elite professionals, the only thing worse than being in a sporting bubble during the pandemic was not being in one, as being outside precluded their participation. Being inside the bubble was a privilege, albeit a dubious one. But, as in wider society, not all sporting bubbles are created equal. Some are more opulent than others, and the experiences of the supporting and the supported can be very different. The surface of the sporting bubble may be impermanent, but when its interior is opened up to scrutiny, it reveals some very durable structures of inequality. Bubbles are made to burst. They are, by nature, temporary, translucent structures created as spectacles. As a form of luminosity, bubbles “allow a thing or object to exist only as a flash, sparkle or shimmer” (Deleuze, 52). In echoing Deleuze, Angela McRobbie (54) argues that luminosity “softens and disguises the regulative dynamics of neoliberal society”. The sporting bubble was designed to discharge that function for those millions rendered immobile by home confinement legislation in Australia and around the world, who were having to deal with the associated trauma, risk and disadvantage. 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Maurice, Megan. “Australia’s Summer of Cricket during COVID Is about Money and Power—and Men”. 6 Jan. 2021. 8 Mar. 2021 <https://www.theguardian.com/sport/2021/jan/06/australias-summer-of-cricket-during-COVID-is-about-money-and-power-and-men>. Murphy, Catherine. “Cricket Australia Contributed to Circumstances Surrounding Ball-Tampering Scandal, Review Finds”. ABC News 20 Oct. 2018. 8 Mar. 2021 <https://www.abc.net.au/news/2018-10-29/scathing-report-released-into-cricket-australia-culture/10440972>. News.com.au. “How an AFL Star Wide’s Instagram Post Led to a Hefty Fine and a Journalist Being Stood Down.” NZ Herald 3 Aug. 2020. 8 Mar. 2021 <https://www.nzherald.co.nz/sport/how-an-afl-star-wifes-instagram-post-led-to-a-hefty-fine-and-a-journalist-being-stood-down/7IDR4SXQ6QW5WDFBV42BK3M7YQ>. Nicholson, Matthew, Anthony Kerr, and Merryn Sherwood. Sport and the Media: Managing the Nexus. 2nd ed. London: Routledge, 2015. Pavlidis, Adele. “Being Grateful: Materialising ‘Success’ in Women’s Contact Sport.” Emotion, Space and Society 35 (2020). 8 Mar. 2021 <https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S1755458620300207>. Phillips, Sam. “‘The Future of the Season Is in Their Hands’: Palaszczuk’s NRL Warning.” Sydney Morning Herald 10 Aug. 2020. 8 Mar. 2021 <https://www.smh.com.au/sport/nrl/the-future-of-the-season-is-in-their-hands-palaszczuk-s-nrl-warning-20200810-p55k7j.html>. Pierik, Jon, and Ryan, Peter. “‘I Own the Consequences’: Stack, Coleman-Jones Apologise for Gold Coast Incident.” The Age 5 Sep. 2020. 8 Mar. 2021 <https://www.theage.com.au/sport/afl/i-own-the-consequences-stack-apologises-for-gold-coast-incident-20200905-p55spq.html>. Poposki, Claudia, and Louise Ayling. “AFL Star’s Wife Who Caused Uproar by Breaching Quarantine to Go to a Spa Reveals She’s Been Smashed by Vile Trolls.” Daily Mail Australia 29 Aug. 2020. 8 Mar. 2021 <https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-8674083/AFL-WAG-Brooke-Cotchin-breached-COVID-19-quarantine-spa-cops-abuse-trolls.html>. Ramsey, Michael. “Axed Swan Spared Jail over Ex-Girlfriend Assault.” AFL.com.au 2 Dec. 2020. 8 Mar. 2021 <https://www.afl.com.au/news/526677/axed-swan-spared-jail-over-ex-girlfriend-assault>. Read, Brent. “The NRL Is Set to Finish the Season on a High after Stunning Financial Results.” The Australian 1 Dec. 2020. 8 Mar. 2021 <https://www.theaustralian.com.au/sport/nrl/the-nrl-is-set-to-finish-the-season-on-a-high-after-stunning-financial-results/news-story/1ce9c2f9b598441d88daaa8cc2b44dc1>. Reel, Justine, J., and Emily Crouch. “#MeToo: Uncovering Sexual Harassment and Assault in Sport.” Journal of Clinical Sport Psychology 13.2 (2018): 177–79. Rogers, Michael. “Buckley, Sanderson to Pay Pies’ Huge Fine for COVID Breach.” AFL.com.au 1 Aug. 2020. 8 Mar. 2021 <https://www.afl.com.au/news/479118/buckley-sanderson-to-pay-pies-huge-fine-for-COVID-breach>. Richardson, David, and Richard Denniss. “Gender Experiences during the COVID-19 Lockdown: Women Lose from COVID-19, Men to Gain from Stimulus.” The Australia Institute June 2020. 8 Mar. 2021 <https://australiainstitute.org.au/report/gender-experiences-during-the-COVID-19-lockdown>. Rowe, David. “All Sport Is Global: A Hard Lesson from the Pandemic.” Open Forum 28 Mar. 2020. 8 Mar. 2021 <https://www.openforum.com.au/all-sport-is-global-a-hard-lesson-from-the-pandemic>. ———. “And the Winner Is … Television: Spectacle and Sport in a Pandemic.” Open Forum 19 Sep. 2020. 8 Mar. 2021 <https://www.openforum.com.au/and-the-winner-istelevision-spectacle-and-sport-in-a-pandemic>. ———. Global Media Sport: Flows, Forms and Futures. London: Bloomsbury, 2011. ———. “Scandals and Sport.” Routledge Companion to Media and Scandal. Eds. Howard Tumber and Silvio Waisbord. London: Routledge, 2019. 324–32. ———. “Subjecting Pandemic Sport to a Sociological Procedure.” Journal of Sociology 56.4 (2020): 704–13. Schout, David. “Cricket Prepares for Mental Health Challenges Thrown Up by Bubble Life.” The Guardian 8 Nov. 2020. 8 Mar. 2021 <https://www.theguardian.com/sport/2020/nov/08/cricket-prepares-for-mental-health-challenges-thrown-up-by-bubble-life>. Spaaij, Ramón. Sport and Social Mobility: Crossing Boundaries. London: Routledge, 2011. The Sporting Bubble. Dir. Peter Dickson. Nine Network Australia, 2020. Swanston, Tim. “With Coronavirus Limiting Interstate Movement, Queensland Is the Nation’s Sporting Hub—Is That Really Safe?” ABC News 29 Aug. 2020. 8 Mar. 2021 <https://www.abc.net.au/news/2020-08-29/coronavirus-queensland-rules-for-sports-teams-explainer/12542634>. Toffoletti, Kim. “How Is Gender-Based Violence Covered in the Sporting News? An Account of the Australian Football League Sex Scandal.” Women's Studies International Forum 30.5 (2007): 427–38. Urry, John. Mobilities. Cambridge: Polity Press, 2007. Walter, Brad. “From Shutdown to Restart: How NRL Walked Tightrope to Get Season Going Again.” NRL.com 25 May 2020. 8 Mar. 2021 <https://www.nrl.com/news/2020/05/25/from-shutdown-to-restart-how-nrl-walked-tightrope-to-get-season-going-again>. Wade, Lisa. “Rape on Campus: Athletes, Status, and the Sexual Assault Crisis.” The Conversation 7 Mar. 2017. 8 Mar. 2021 <https://theconversation.com/rape-on-campus-athletes-status-and-the-sexual-assault-crisis-72255>. Webster, Andrew. “Sydney Roosters’ Mitchell Pearce Involved in a Drunken Incident with a Dog? And Your Point Is ...?” Sydney Morning Herald 28 Jan. 2016. 8 Mar. 2021 <https://www.smh.com.au/sport/nrl/sydney-roosters-mitchell-pearce-involved-in-a-drunken-incident-with-a-dog-and-your-point-is--20160127-gmfemh.html>. Whittaker, Troy. “Three-Peat Not Driving Broncos in NRLW Grand Final.” NRL.com 24 Oct. 2020. 8 Mar. 2021 <https://www.nrl.com/news/2020/10/24/three-peat-not-driving-broncos-in-nrlw-grand-final>. Yahoo! Sport Staff. “‘Not Okay’: Uproar over ‘Disgusting’ Find inside Quarantine.” Yahoo! Sport 9 July 2020. 8 Mar. 2021 <https://au.sports.yahoo.com/wnba-disturbing-conditions-coronavirus-bubble-slammed-003557243.html>.

The Australian Government has been actively evaluating how best to merge the functions of the Australian Communications Authority (ACA) and the Australian Broadcasting Authority (ABA) for around two years now. Broadly, the reason for this is an attempt to keep pace with the communications media transformations we reduce to the term “convergence.” Mounting pressure for restructuring is emerging as a site of turf contestation: the possibility of a regulatory “one-stop shop” for governments (and some industry players) is an end game of considerable force. But, from a public interest perspective, the case for a converged regulator needs to make sense to audiences using various media, as well as in terms of arguments about global, industrial, and technological change. This national debate about the institutional reshaping of media regulation is occurring within a wider global context of transformations in social, technological, and politico-economic frameworks of open capital and cultural markets, including the increasing prominence of international economic organisations, corporations, and Free Trade Agreements (FTAs). Although the recently concluded FTA with the US explicitly carves out a right for Australian Governments to make regulatory policy in relation to existing and new media, considerable uncertainty remains as to future regulatory arrangements. A key concern is how a right to intervene in cultural markets will be sustained in the face of cultural, politico-economic, and technological pressures that are reconfiguring creative industries on an international scale. While the right to intervene was retained for the audiovisual sector in the FTA, by contrast, it appears that comparable unilateral rights to intervene will not operate for telecommunications, e-commerce or intellectual property (DFAT). Blurring Boundaries A lack of certainty for audiences is a by-product of industry change, and further blurs regulatory boundaries: new digital media content and overlapping delivering technologies are already a reality for Australia’s media regulators. These hypothetical media usage scenarios indicate how confusion over the appropriate regulatory agency may arise: 1. playing electronic games that use racist language; 2. being subjected to deceptive or misleading pop-up advertising online 3. receiving messaged imagery on your mobile phone that offends, disturbs, or annoys; 4. watching a program like World Idol with SMS voting that subsequently raises charging or billing issues; or 5. watching a new “reality” TV program where products are being promoted with no explicit acknowledgement of the underlying commercial arrangements either during or at the end of the program. These are all instances where, theoretically, regulatory mechanisms are in place that allow individuals to complain and to seek some kind of redress as consumers and citizens. In the last scenario, in commercial television under the sector code, no clear-cut rules exist as to the precise form of the disclosure—as there is (from 2000) in commercial radio. It’s one of a number of issues the peak TV industry lobby Commercial TV Australia (CTVA) is considering in their review of the industry’s code of practice. CTVA have proposed an amendment to the code that will simply formalise the already existing practice . That is, commercial arrangements that assist in the making of a program should be acknowledged either during programs, or in their credits. In my view, this amendment doesn’t go far enough in post “cash for comment” mediascapes (Dwyer). Audiences have a right to expect that broadcasters, production companies and program celebrities are open and transparent with the Australian community about these kinds of arrangements. They need to be far more clearly signposted, and people better informed about their role. In the US, the “Commercial Alert” <http://www.commercialalert.org/> organisation has been lobbying the Federal Communications Commission and the Federal Trade Commission to achieve similar in-program “visual acknowledgements.” The ABA’s Commercial Radio Inquiry (“Cash-for-Comment”) found widespread systemic regulatory failure and introduced three new standards. On that basis, how could a “standstill” response by CTVA, constitute best practice for such a pervasive and influential medium as contemporary commercial television? The World Idol example may lead to confusion for some audiences, who are unsure whether the issues involved relate to broadcasting or telecommunications. In fact, it could be dealt with as a complaint to the Telecommunication Industry Ombudsman (TIO) under an ACA registered, but Australian Communications Industry Forum (ACIF) developed, code of practice. These kind of cross-platform issues may become more vexed in future years from an audience’s perspective, especially if reality formats using on-screen premium rate service numbers invite audiences to participate, by sending MMS (multimedia messaging services) images or short video grabs over wireless networks. The political and cultural implications of this kind of audience interaction, in terms of access, participation, and more generally the symbolic power of media, may perhaps even indicate a longer-term shift in relations with consumers and citizens. In the Internet example, the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission’s (ACCC) Internet advertising jurisdiction would apply—not the ABA’s “co-regulatory” Internet content regime as some may have thought. Although the ACCC deals with complaints relating to Internet advertising, there won’t be much traction for them in a more complex issue that also includes, say, racist or religious bigotry. The DVD example would probably fall between the remits of the Office of Film and Literature Classification’s (OFLC) new “convergent” Guidelines for the Classification of Film and Computer Games and race discrimination legislation administered by the Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission (HREOC). The OFLC’s National Classification Scheme is really geared to provide consumer advice on media products that contain sexual and violent imagery or coarse language, rather than issues of racist language. And it’s unlikely that a single person would have the locus standito even apply for a reclassification. It may fall within the jurisdiction of the HREOC depending on whether it was played in public or not. Even then it would probably be considered exempt on free speech grounds as an “artistic work.” Unsolicited, potentially illegal, content transmitted via mobile wireless devices, in particular 3G phones, provide another example of content that falls between the media regulation cracks. It illustrates a potential content policy “turf grab” too. Image-enabled mobile phones create a variety of novel issues for content producers, network operators, regulators, parents and viewers. There is no one government media authority or agency with a remit to deal with this issue. Although it has elements relating to the regulatory activities of the ACA, the ABA, the OFLC, the TIO, and TISSC, the combination of illegal or potentially prohibited content and its carriage over wireless networks positions it outside their current frameworks. The ACA may argue it should have responsibility for this kind of content since: it now enforces the recently enacted Commonwealth anti-Spam laws; has registered an industry code of practice for unsolicited content delivered over wireless networks; is seeking to include ‘adult’ content within premium rate service numbers, and, has been actively involved in consumer education for mobile telephony. It has also worked with TISSC and the ABA in relation to telephone sex information services over voice networks. On the other hand, the ABA would probably argue that it has the relevant expertise for regulating wirelessly transmitted image-content, arising from its experience of Internet and free and subscription TV industries, under co-regulatory codes of practice. The OFLC can also stake its claim for policy and compliance expertise, since the recently implemented Guidelines for Classification of Film and Computer Games were specifically developed to address issues of industry convergence. These Guidelines now underpin the regulation of content across the film, TV, video, subscription TV, computer games and Internet sectors. Reshaping Institutions Debates around the “merged regulator” concept have occurred on and off for at least a decade, with vested interests in agencies and the executive jockeying to stake claims over new turf. On several occasions the debate has been given renewed impetus in the context of ruling conservative parties’ mooted changes to the ownership and control regime. It’s tended to highlight demarcations of remit, informed as they are by historical and legal developments, and the gradual accretion of regulatory cultures. Now the key pressure points for regulatory change include the mere existence of already converged single regulatory structures in those countries with whom we tend to triangulate our policy comparisons—the US, the UK and Canada—increasingly in a context of debates concerning international trade agreements; and, overlaying this, new media formats and devices are complicating existing institutional arrangements and legal frameworks. The Department of Communications, Information Technology & the Arts’s (DCITA) review brief was initially framed as “options for reform in spectrum management,” but was then widened to include “new institutional arrangements” for a converged regulator, to deal with visual content in the latest generation of mobile telephony, and other image-enabled wireless devices (DCITA). No other regulatory agencies appear, at this point, to be actively on the Government’s radar screen (although they previously have been). Were the review to look more inclusively, the ACCC, the OFLC and the specialist telecommunications bodies, the TIO and the TISSC may also be drawn in. Current regulatory arrangements see the ACA delegate responsibility for broadcasting services bands of the radio frequency spectrum to the ABA. In fact, spectrum management is the turf least contested by the regulatory players themselves, although the “convergent regulator” issue provokes considerable angst among powerful incumbent media players. The consensus that exists at a regulatory level can be linked to the scientific convention that holds the radio frequency spectrum is a continuum of electromagnetic bands. In this view, it becomes artificial to sever broadcasting, as “broadcasting services bands” from the other remaining highly diverse communications uses, as occurred from 1992 when the Broadcasting Services Act was introduced. The prospect of new forms of spectrum charging is highly alarming for commercial broadcasters. In a joint submission to the DCITA review, the peak TV and radio industry lobby groups have indicated they will fight tooth and nail to resist new regulatory arrangements that would see a move away from the existing licence fee arrangements. These are paid as a sliding scale percentage of gross earnings that, it has been argued by Julian Thomas and Marion McCutcheon, “do not reflect the amount of spectrum used by a broadcaster, do not reflect the opportunity cost of using the spectrum, and do not provide an incentive for broadcasters to pursue more efficient ways of delivering their services” (6). An economic rationalist logic underpins pressure to modify the spectrum management (and charging) regime, and undoubtedly contributes to the commercial broadcasting industry’s general paranoia about reform. Total revenues collected by the ABA and the ACA between 1997 and 2002 were, respectively, $1423 million and $3644.7 million. Of these sums, using auction mechanisms, the ABA collected $391 million, while the ACA collected some $3 billion. The sale of spectrum that will be returned to the Commonwealth by television broadcasters when analog spectrum is eventually switched off, around the end of the decade, is a salivating prospect for Treasury officials. The large sums that have been successfully raised by the ACA boosts their position in planning discussions for the convergent media regulatory agency. The way in which media outlets and regulators respond to publics is an enduring question for a democratic polity, irrespective of how the product itself has been mediated and accessed. Media regulation and civic responsibility, including frameworks for negotiating consumer and citizen rights, are fundamental democratic rights (Keane; Tambini). The ABA’s Commercial Radio Inquiry (‘cash for comment’) has also reminded us that regulatory frameworks are important at the level of corporate conduct, as well as how they negotiate relations with specific media audiences (Johnson; Turner; Gordon-Smith). Building publicly meaningful regulatory frameworks will be demanding: relationships with audiences are often complex as people are constructed as both consumers and citizens, through marketised media regulation, institutions and more recently, through hybridising program formats (Murdock and Golding; Lumby and Probyn). In TV, we’ve seen the growth of infotainment formats blending entertainment and informational aspects of media consumption. At a deeper level, changes in the regulatory landscape are symptomatic of broader tectonic shifts in the discourses of governance in advanced information economies from the late 1980s onwards, where deregulatory agendas created an increasing reliance on free market, business-oriented solutions to regulation. “Co-regulation” and “self-regulation’ became the preferred mechanisms to more direct state control. Yet, curiously contradicting these market transformations, we continue to witness recurring instances of direct intervention on the basis of censorship rationales (Dwyer and Stockbridge). That digital media content is “converging” between different technologies and modes of delivery is the norm in “new media” regulatory rhetoric. Others critique “visions of techno-glory,” arguing instead for a view that sees fundamental continuities in media technologies (Winston). But the socio-cultural impacts of new media developments surround us: the introduction of multichannel digital and interactive TV (in free-to-air and subscription variants); broadband access in the office and home; wirelessly delivered content and mobility, and, as Jock Given notes, around the corner, there’s the possibility of “an Amazon.Com of movies-on-demand, with the local video and DVD store replaced by online access to a distant server” (90). Taking a longer view of media history, these changes can be seen to be embedded in the global (and local) “innovation frontier” of converging digital media content industries and its transforming modes of delivery and access technologies (QUT/CIRAC/Cutler & Co). The activities of regulatory agencies will continue to be a source of policy rivalry and turf contestation until such time as a convergent regulator is established to the satisfaction of key players. However, there are risks that the benefits of institutional reshaping will not be readily available for either audiences or industry. In the past, the idea that media power and responsibility ought to coexist has been recognised in both the regulation of the media by the state, and the field of communications media analysis (Curran and Seaton; Couldry). But for now, as media industries transform, whatever the eventual institutional configuration, the evolution of media power in neo-liberal market mediascapes will challenge the ongoing capacity for interventions by national governments and their agencies. Works Cited Australian Broadcasting Authority. Commercial Radio Inquiry: Final Report of the Australian Broadcasting Authority. Sydney: ABA, 2000. Australian Communications Information Forum. Industry Code: Short Message Service (SMS) Issues. Dec. 2002. 8 Mar. 2004 <http://www.acif.org.au/__data/page/3235/C580_Dec_2002_ACA.pdf >. Commercial Television Australia. Draft Commercial Television Industry Code of Practice. Aug. 2003. 8 Mar. 2004 <http://www.ctva.com.au/control.cfm?page=codereview&pageID=171&menucat=1.2.110.171&Level=3>. Couldry, Nick. The Place of Media Power: Pilgrims and Witnesses of the Media Age. London: Routledge, 2000. Curran, James, and Jean Seaton. Power without Responsibility: The Press, Broadcasting and New Media in Britain. 6th ed. London: Routledge, 2003. Dept. of Communication, Information Technology and the Arts. Options for Structural Reform in Spectrum Management. Canberra: DCITA, Aug. 2002. ---. Proposal for New Institutional Arrangements for the ACA and the ABA. Aug. 2003. 8 Mar. 2004 <http://www.dcita.gov.au/Article/0,,0_1-2_1-4_116552,00.php>. Dept. of Foreign Affairs and Trade. Australia-United States Free Trade Agreement. Feb. 2004. 8 Mar. 2004 <http://www.dfat.gov.au/trade/negotiations/us_fta/outcomes/11_audio_visual.php>. Dwyer, Tim. Submission to Commercial Television Australia’s Review of the Commercial Television Industry’s Code of Practice. Sept. 2003. Dwyer, Tim, and Sally Stockbridge. “Putting Violence to Work in New Media Policies: Trends in Australian Internet, Computer Game and Video Regulation.” New Media and Society 1.2 (1999): 227-49. Given, Jock. America’s Pie: Trade and Culture After 9/11. Sydney: U of NSW P, 2003. Gordon-Smith, Michael. “Media Ethics After Cash-for-Comment.” The Media and Communications in Australia. Ed. Stuart Cunningham and Graeme Turner. Sydney: Allen and Unwin, 2002. Johnson, Rob. Cash-for-Comment: The Seduction of Journo Culture. Sydney: Pluto, 2000. Keane, John. The Media and Democracy. Cambridge: Polity, 1991. Lumby, Cathy, and Elspeth Probyn, eds. Remote Control: New Media, New Ethics. Melbourne: Cambridge UP, 2003. Murdock, Graham, and Peter Golding. “Information Poverty and Political Inequality: Citizenship in the Age of Privatized Communications.” Journal of Communication 39.3 (1991): 180-95. QUT, CIRAC, and Cutler & Co. Research and Innovation Systems in the Production of Digital Content and Applications: Report for the National Office for the Information Economy. Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia, Sept. 2003. Tambini, Damian. Universal Access: A Realistic View. IPPR/Citizens Online Research Publication 1. London: IPPR, 2000. Thomas, Julian and Marion McCutcheon. “Is Broadcasting Special? Charging for Spectrum.” Conference paper. ABA conference, Canberra. May 2003. Turner, Graeme. “Talkback, Advertising and Journalism: A cautionary tale of self-regulated radio”. International Journal of Cultural Studies 3.2 (2000): 247-255. ---. “Reshaping Australian Institutions: Popular Culture, the Market and the Public Sphere.” Culture in Australia: Policies, Publics and Programs. Ed. Tony Bennett and David Carter. Melbourne: Cambridge UP, 2001. Winston, Brian. Media, Technology and Society: A History from the Telegraph to the Internet. London: Routledge, 1998. Web Links http://www.aba.gov.au http://www.aca.gov.au http://www.accc.gov.au http://www.acif.org.au http://www.adma.com.au http://www.ctva.com.au http://www.crtc.gc.ca http://www.dcita.com.au http://www.dfat.gov.au http://www.fcc.gov http://www.ippr.org.uk http://www.ofcom.org.uk http://www.oflc.gov.au Links http://www.commercialalert.org/ Citation reference for this article MLA Style Dwyer, Tim. "Transformations" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture <http://www.media-culture.org.au/0403/06-transformations.php>. APA Style Dwyer, T. (2004, Mar17). Transformations. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture, 7, <http://www.media-culture.org.au/0403/06-transformations.php>

Photo by 14825144 © Alita Xander | Dreamstime.com ABSTRACT The US government's approach to the War on Drugs has created laws to deter people from using illicit drugs through negative punishment. These laws have not controlled illicit drug use, nor has it stopped the opioid pandemic from growing. Instead, these laws have created a negative bias surrounding addiction and have negatively affected particularly vulnerable patient populations, including pregnant women with substance use disorder and newborns with neonatal abstinence syndrome. This article highlights some misconceptions and underscores the challenges they face as they navigate the justice and healthcare systems while also providing possible solutions to address their underlying addiction. INTRODUCTION Pregnant women with substance use disorder require treatment that is arguably for the benefit of both the mother and the fetus. Some suggest that addiction is a choice; therefore, those who misuse substances should not receive treatment. Proponents of this argument emphasize social and environmental factors that lead to addiction but fail to appreciate how chronic substance use alters the brain’s chemistry and changes how it responds to stress, reward, self-control, and pain. The medical community has long recognized that substance use disorder is not simply a character flaw or social deviance, but a complex condition that requires adequate medical attention. Unfortunately, the lasting consequences of the War on Drugs have created a stigma around addiction medicine, leading to significant treatment barriers. There is still a pervasive societal bias toward punitive rather than rehabilitative approaches to addiction. For example, many women with substance use disorder lose custody of their baby or face criminal penalties, including fines and jail time.[1] These punitive measures may cause patients to lose trust in their physicians, ultimately leading to high-risk pregnancies without prenatal care, untreated substance misuse, and potential lifelong disabilities for their newborns.[2] As a medical student, I have observed the importance of a rehabilitative approach to addiction medicine. Incentivizing pregnant women with substance use disorder to safely address their chronic health issues is essential for minimizing negative short-term and long-term outcomes for women and their newborns. This approach requires an open mind and supportive perspective, recognizing that substance use disorder is truly a medical condition that requires just as much attention as any other medical diagnosis.[3] BACKGROUND The War on Drugs was a government-led initiative launched in 1970 by President Richard M. Nixon with the aim of curtailing illegal drug use, distribution, and trade by imposing harsher prison sentences and punishments.[4] However, it is worth noting that one can trace the roots of this initiative back further. In 1914, Congress enacted the Harrison Narcotics Tax Act to target the recreational use of drugs such as morphine and opium.[5] Despite being in effect for over four decades, the War on Drugs failed to achieve its intended goals. In 2011, the Global Commission on Drug Policy released a report that concluded that the initiative had been futile, as “arresting and incarcerating tens of millions of these people in recent decades has filled prisons and destroyed lives and families without reducing the availability of illicit drugs or the power of criminal organizations.”[6] One study published in the International Journal of Drug Policy in the same year found that funding drug law enforcement paradoxically contributed to increasing gun violence and homicide rates.[7] The Commission recommended that drug policies focus on reducing harm caused by drug use rather than solely on reducing drug markets. Recognizing that many drug policies were of political opinion, it called for drug policies that were grounded in scientific evidence, health, security, and human rights.[8] Unfortunately, policy makers did not heed these recommendations. In 2014, Tennessee’s legislature passed a “Fetal Assault Law,” which made it possible to prosecute pregnant women for drug use during pregnancy. If found guilty, pregnant women could face up to 15 years in prison and lose custody of their child. Instead of deterring drug use, the law discouraged pregnant women with substance use disorder from seeking prenatal care. This law required medical professionals to report drug use to authorities, thereby compromising the confidentiality of the patient-physician relationship. Some avoided arrest by delivering their babies in other states or at home, while others opted for abortions or attempted to go through an unsafe withdrawal prior to receiving medical care, sacrificing the mother's and fetus's wellbeing. The law had a sunset provision and expired in 2016. During the two years this law was in effect, officials arrested 124 women.[9] The fear that this law instilled in pregnant women with substance use disorder can still be seen across the US today. Many pregnant women with substance use disorders stated that they feared testing positive for drugs. Due to mandatory reporting, they were not confident that physicians would protect them from the law.[10] And if a woman tried to stop using drugs before seeking care to avoid detection, she often ended up delaying or avoiding care.[11] The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG) recognizes the fear those with substance use disorders face when seeking appropriate medical care and emphasizes that “obstetric–gynecologic care should not expose a woman to criminal or civil penalties, such as incarceration, involuntary commitment, loss of custody of her children, or loss of housing.”[12] Mandatory reporting strains the patient-physician relationship, driving a wedge between the doctor and patient. Thus, laws intended to deter people from using substances through various punishments and incarceration may be doing more harm than good. County hospitals that mainly serve lower socioeconomic patients encounter more patients without consistent health care access and those with substance use disorders.[13] These hospitals are facing the consequences of the worsening opioid pandemic. At one county hospital where I recently worked, there has been a dramatic increase in newborns with neonatal abstinence syndrome born to mothers with untreated substance use disorders during pregnancy. Infants exposed to drugs prenatally have an increased risk of complications, stillbirth, and life-altering developmental disabilities. At the hospital, I witnessed Child Protective Services removing two newborns with neonatal abstinence syndrome from their mother’s custody. Four similar cases had occurred in the preceding month. In the days leading up to their placement with a foster family, I saw both newborns go through an uncomfortable drug withdrawal. No baby should be welcomed into this world by suffering like that. Yet I felt for the new mothers and realized that heart-wrenching custody loss is not the best approach. During this period, I saw a teenager brought to the pediatric floor due to worsening psychiatric symptoms. He was born with neonatal abstinence syndrome that neither the residential program nor his foster family could manage. His past psychiatric disorders included attention deficit disorder, conduct disorder, major depressive disorder, anxiety disorder, disruptive mood dysregulation disorder, intellectual developmental disorder, and more. During his hospitalization, he was so violent towards healthcare providers that security had to intervene. And his attitude toward his foster parents was so volatile that we were never sure if having them visit was comforting or agitating. Throughout his hospital course, it was difficult for me to converse with him, and I left every interview with him feeling lost in terms of providing an adequate short- and long-term assessment of his psychological and medical requirements. What was clear, however, was that his intellectual and emotional levels did not match his age and that he was born into a society that was ill-equipped to accommodate his needs. Just a few feet away from his room, behind the nurses’ station, were the two newborns feeling the same withdrawal symptoms that this teenager likely experienced in the first few hours of his life. I wondered how similar their paths would be and if they would exhibit similar developmental delays in a few years or if their circumstance may follow the cases hyped about in the media of the 1980s and 1990s regarding “crack babies.” Many of these infants who experienced withdrawal symptoms eventually led normal lives.[14] Nonetheless, many studies have demonstrated that drug use during pregnancy can adversely impact fetal development. Excessive alcohol consumption can result in fetal alcohol syndrome, characterized by growth deficiency, facial structure abnormalities, and a wide range of neurological deficiencies.[15] Smoking can impede the development of the lungs and brain and lead to preterm deliveries or sudden infant death syndrome.[16] Stimulants like methamphetamine can also cause preterm delivery, delayed motor development, attention impairments, and a wide range of cognitive and behavioral issues.[17] Opioid use, such as oxycodone, morphine, fentanyl, and heroin, may result in neonatal opioid withdrawal syndrome, in which a newborn may exhibit tremors, irritability, sleeping problems, poor feeding, loose stools, and increased sweating within 72 hours of life.[18] In 2014, the American Association of Pediatrics (AAP) reported that one newborn was diagnosed with neonatal abstinence syndrome every 15 minutes, equating to approximately 32,000 newborns annually, a five-fold increase from 2004.[19] The AAP found that the cost of neonatal abstinence syndrome covered by Medicaid increased from $65.4 million to $462 million from 2004 to 2014.[20] In 2020, the CDC published a paper that showed an increase in hospital costs from $316 million in 2012 to $572.7 million in 2016.[21] Currently, the impact of the COVID-19 pandemic on the prevalence of newborns with neonatal abstinence syndrome is unknown. I predict that the increase in opioid and polysubstance use during the pandemic will increase the number of newborns with neonatal abstinence syndrome, thereby significantly increasing the public burden and cost.[22] In the 1990s, concerns arose about the potentially irreparable damage caused by intrauterine exposure to cocaine on the development of infants, which led to the popularization of the term “crack babies.”[23] Although no strong longitudinal studies supported this claim at the time, it was not without merit. The Maternal Lifestyle Study (NCT00059540) was a prospective longitudinal observational study that compared the outcomes of newborns exposed to cocaine in-utero to those without.[24] One of its studies revealed one month old newborns with cocaine exposure had “lower arousal, poorer quality of movements and self-regulation, higher excitability, more hypertonia, and more nonoptimal reflexes.”[25] Another study showed that at one month old, heavy cocaine exposure affected neural transmission from the ear to the brain.[26] Long-term follow up from the study showed that at seven years old, children with high intrauterine cocaine exposure were more likely to have externalizing behavior problems such as aggressive behavior, temper tantrums, and destructive acts.[27] While I have witnessed this behavior in the teenage patient during my pediatrics rotation, not all newborns with intrauterine drug exposure are inevitably bound to have psychiatric and behavioral issues later in life. NPR recorded a podcast in 2010 highlighting a mother who used substances during pregnancy and, with early intervention, had positive outcomes. After being arrested 50 times within five years, she went through STEP: Self-Taught Empowerment and Pride, a public program that allowed her to complete her GED and provided guidance and encouragement for a more meaningful life during her time in jail. Her daughter, who was exposed to cocaine before birth, had a normal childhood and ended up going to college.[28] From a public health standpoint, more needs to be done to prevent the complications of substance misuse during pregnancy. Some states consider substance misuse (and even prescribed use) during pregnancy child abuse. Officials have prosecuted countless women across 45 states for exposing their unborn children to drugs.[29] With opioid and polysubstance use on the rise, the efficacy of laws that result in punitive measures seems questionable.[30] So far, laws are not associated with a decrease in the misuse of drugs during pregnancy. Millions of dollars are being poured into managing neonatal abstinence syndrome, including prosecuting women and taking their children away. Rather than policing and criminalizing substance use, pregnant women should get the appropriate care they need and deserve. I. Misconception One: Mothers with Substance Use Disorder Can Get an Abortion If an unplanned pregnancy occurs, one course of action could be to terminate the pregnancy. On the surface, this solution seems like a quick fix. However, the reality is that obtaining an abortion can be challenging due to two significant barriers: accessibility and mandated reporting. Abortion laws vary by state, and in Tennessee, for instance, abortions are banned after six weeks of gestation, typically when fetal heart rhythms are detected. An exception to this is in cases where the mother's life is at risk.[31] Unfortunately, many women with substance use disorders are from lower socioeconomic backgrounds and cannot access pregnancy tests, which could indicate they are pregnant before the six-week cutoff. If a Tennessee woman with substance use disorder decides to seek an abortion after six weeks, she may need to travel to a neighboring state. However, this is not always a feasible option, as the surrounding states (WV, MO, AR, MI, AL, and GA) also have restrictive laws that either prohibit abortions entirely or ban them after six weeks. Moreover, she may be hesitant to visit an obstetrician for an abortion, as some states require physicians by law to report their patients' substance use during pregnancy. For example, Virginia considers substance use during pregnancy child abuse and mandates that healthcare providers report it. This would ultimately limit her to North Carolina if she wants to remain in a nearby state, but she must go before 20 weeks gestation.[32] For someone who may or may not have access to reliable transportation, traveling to another state might be impossible. Without resources or means, these restrictive laws have made it incredibly difficult to obtain the medical care they need. II. Misconception Two: Mothers with SUD are Not Fit to Care for Children If a woman cannot take care of herself, one might wonder how she can take care of another human being. Mothers with substance use disorders often face many adversities, including lack of economic opportunity, trauma from abuse, history of poverty, and mental illness.[33] Fortunately, studies suggest keeping mother and baby together has many benefits. Breastfeeding, for example, helps the baby develop a strong immune system while reducing the mother’s risk of cancer and high blood pressure.[34] Additionally, newborns with neonatal abstinence syndrome who are breastfed by mothers receiving methadone or buprenorphine require less pharmacological treatment, have lower withdrawal scores, and experience shorter hospital stays.[35] Opioid concentration in breastmilk is minimal and does not pose a risk to newborns.[36] Moreover, oxytocin, the hormone responsible for mother-baby bonding, is increased in breastfeeding mothers, reducing withdrawal symptoms and stress-induced reactivity and cravings while also increasing protective maternal instincts.[37] Removing an infant from their mother’s care immediately after birth would result in the loss of all these positive benefits for both the mother and her newborn. The newborns I observed during my pediatrics rotation probably could have benefited from breastfeeding rather than bottle feeding and being passed around from one nurse to the next. They probably would have cried less and suffered fewer withdrawal symptoms had they been given the opportunity to breastfeed. And even if the mothers were lethargic and unresponsive while going through withdrawal, it would still have been possible to breastfeed with proper support. Unfortunately, many believe mothers with substance use disorder cannot adequately care for their children. This pervasive societal bias sets them up for failure from the beginning and greatly inhibits their willingness to change and mend their relationship with their providers. It is a healthcare provider’s duty to provide non-judgmental care that prioritizes the patient’s well-being. They must treat these mothers with the same empathy and respect as any other patient, even if they are experiencing withdrawal. III. Safe Harbor and Medication-Assisted Treatment Addiction is like any other disease and society should regard treatment without stigma. There is no simple fix to this problem, given that it involves the political, legal, and healthcare systems. Punitive policies push pregnant women away from receiving healthcare and prevent them from receiving beneficial interventions. States need to enact laws that protect these women from being reported to authorities. Montana, for example, passed a law in 2019 that provides women with substance use disorders safe harbor from prosecution if they seek treatment for their condition.[38] Medication-assisted treatment with methadone or buprenorphine is the first line treatment option and should be available to all pregnant women regardless of their ability to pay for medical care.[39] To promote continuity of care, health officials could include financial incentives to motivate new mothers to go to follow-up appointments. For example, vouchers for groceries or enrollment in the Special Supplemental Nutrition Program for Women, Infants, and Children (WIC) may offset financial burdens and allow a mother to focus on taking care of her child and her recovery. IV. Mandated Substance Abuse Programs Although the number of people sentenced to state prisons for drug related crimes has been declining, it is still alarming that there were 171,300 sentencings in 2019.[40] Only 11 percent of the 65 percent of our nation’s inmates with substance use disorder receive treatment, implying that the other 89 percent were left without much-needed support to overcome their addiction.[41] It is erroneous to assume that their substance use disorder would disappear after a period without substance use while behind bars. After withdrawal, those struggling with substance use disorder may still have cravings and the likelihood of relapsing remains high without proper medical intervention. Even if they are abstinent for some time during incarceration, the underlying problem persists, and the cycle inevitably continues upon release from custody. In line with the recommendations by Global Commission on Drug Policy and the lessons learned from the failed War on Drugs, one proposed change in our criminal justice system would be to require enrollment and participation in assisted alcohol cessation programs before legal punishment. Policy makers must place emphasis on the safety of the patient and baby rather than the cessation of substance use. This would incentivize people to actively seek medical care, restore the patient-physician relationship, and ensure that they take rehabilitation programs seriously. If the patient or baby is unsafe, a caregiver could intervene while the patient re-enrolls in the program. Those currently serving sentences in prisons and jails can treat their substance use disorder through medication assisted treatment, cognitive behavioral therapy, and programs like Self Taught Empowerment and Pride (STEP). Medication assisted treatment under the supervision of medical professionals can help inmates achieve and maintain sobriety in a healthy and safe way. Furthermore, cognitive behavioral therapy can help to identify triggers and teach healthier coping mechanisms to prepare for stressors outside of jail. Finally, multimodal empowerment programs can connect people to jobs, education, and support upon release. People often leave prisons and jail without a sense of purpose, which can lead to relapse and reincarceration. Structured programs have been shown to decrease drug use and criminal behavior by helping reintegrate productive individuals into society.[42] V. Medical Education: Narcotic Treatment Programs and Suboxone Clinics Another proactive approach could be to have medical residency programs register with the Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA) as Narcotic Treatment Programs and incorporate suboxone clinics into their education and rotations. Rather than family medicine, OB/GYN, or emergency medicine healthcare workers having to refer their patients to an addiction specialist, they could treat patients with methadone for maintenance or detoxification where they would deliver their baby. Not only would this educate and prepare the future generation of physicians to handle the opioid crisis, but it would allow pregnant women to develop strong patient-physician relationships. CONCLUSION Society needs to change from the mindset of tackling a problem after it occurs to taking a proactive approach by addressing upstream factors, thereby preventing those problems from occurring in the first place. Emphasizing public health measures and adequate medical care can prevent complications and developmental issues in newborns and pregnant women with substance use disorders. Decriminalizing drug use and encouraging good health habits during pregnancy is essential, as is access to prenatal care, especially for lower socioeconomic patients. Many of the current laws and regulations that policy makers initially created due to naïve political opinion and unfounded bias to serve the War on Drugs need to be changed to provide these opportunities. To progress as a society, physicians and interprofessional teams must work together to truly understand the needs of patients with substance use disorders and provide support from prenatal to postnatal care. There should be advocation for legislative change, not by providing an opinion but by highlighting the facts and conclusions of scientific studies grounded in scientific evidence, health, security, and human rights. There can be no significant change if society continues to view those with substance use disorders as underserving of care. Only when the perspective shifts to compassion can these mothers and children receive adequate care that rehabilitates and supports their future and empowers them to raise their children. - [1] NIDA. 2023, February 15. Pregnant People with Substance Use Disorders Need Treatment, Not Criminalization. https://nida.nih.gov/about-nida/noras-blog/2023/02/pregnant-people-substance-use-disorders-need-treatment-not-criminalization [2] Substance Use Disorder Hurts Moms and Babies. National Partnership for Women and Families. June 2021 [3] All stories have been fictionalized and anonymized. [4] A History of the Drug War. Drug Policy Alliance. https://drugpolicy.org/issues/brief-history-drug-war [5] The Harrison Narcotic Act (1914) https://www.druglibrary.org/Schaffer/library/studies/cu/cu8.html [6] The War on Drugs. The Global Commission on Drug Policy. Published June 2011. https://www.globalcommissionondrugs.org/reports/the-war-on-drugs [7] Werb D, Rowell G, Guyatt G, Kerr T, Montaner J, Wood E. Effect of drug law enforcement on drug market violence: A systematic review. Int J Drug Policy. 2011;22(2):87-94. doi:10.1016/j.drugpo.2011.02.002 [8] Global Commission on Drug Policy, 2011 [9] Women NA for P. Tennessee’s Fetal Assault Law: Understanding its impact on marginalized women - New York. Pregnancy Justice. Published December 14, 2020. https://www.pregnancyjusticeus.org/tennessees-fetal-assault-law-understanding-its-impact-on-marginalized-women/ [10] Roberts SCM, Nuru-Jeter A. Women’s perspectives on screening for alcohol and drug use in prenatal care. Womens Health Issues Off Publ Jacobs Inst Womens Health. 2010;20(3):193-200. doi:10.1016/j.whi.2010.02.003 [11] Klaman SL, Isaacs K, Leopold A, et al. Treating Women Who Are Pregnant and Parenting for Opioid Use Disorder and the Concurrent Care of Their Infants and Children: Literature Review to Support National Guidance. J Addict Med. 2017;11(3):178-190. doi:10.1097/ADM.0000000000000308 [12] Substance Abuse Reporting and Pregnancy: The Role of the Obstetrician–Gynecologist. https://www.acog.org/en/clinical/clinical-guidance/committee-opinion/articles/2011/01/substance-abuse-reporting-and-pregnancy-the-role-of-the-obstetrician-gynecologist [13] R. Ghertner, G Lincoln The Opioid Crisis and Economic Opportunity: Geographic and Economic Trends. ASPE. Office of Assistant Secretary for Planning and Evaluation. DHHS Revised September 11, 2018 https://aspe.hhs.gov/reports/economic-opportunity-opioid-crisis-geographic-economic-trends [14] Midon, M. Z., Gerzon, L. R., & de Almeida, C. S. (2021). Crack and motor development of babies living in an assistance shelter. ABCS Health Sciences, 46, e021215-e021215. And for example, see Crack Babies: Twenty Years Later : NPR https://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=126478643 [15] Williams JF, Smith VC, the Committee on Substance Abuse. Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorders. Pediatrics. 2015;136(5):e20153113. doi:10.1542/peds.2015-3113 [16] CDC Tobacco Free. Smoking During Pregnancy. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Published April 11, 2022. https://www.cdc.gov/tobacco/basic_information/health_effects/pregnancy/index.htm [17] Abuse NI on D. What are the risks of methamphetamine misuse during pregnancy? National Institute on Drug Abuse. https://nida.nih.gov/publications/research-reports/methamphetamine/what-are-risks-methamphetamine-misuse-during-pregnancy [18] CDC. Basics About Opioid Use During Pregnancy | CDC. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Published July 21, 2021. https://www.cdc.gov/pregnancy/opioids/basics.html [19] Honein MA, Boyle C, Redfield RR. Public Health Surveillance of Prenatal Opioid Exposure in Mothers and Infants. Pediatrics. 2019;143(3):e20183801. doi:10.1542/peds.2018-3801 [20] Winkelman TNA, Villapiano N, Kozhimannil KB, Davis MM, Patrick SW. Incidence and Costs of Neonatal Abstinence Syndrome Among Infants with Medicaid: 2004–2014. Pediatrics. 2018;141(4):e20173520. doi:10.1542/peds.2017-3520 [21] Strahan AE, Guy GP Jr, Bohm M, Frey M, Ko JY. Neonatal Abstinence Syndrome Incidence and Health Care Costs in the United States, 2016. JAMA Pediatr. 2020;174(2):200-202. doi:10.1001/jamapediatrics.2019.4791 [22] Ghose R, Forati AM, Mantsch JR. Impact of the COVID-19 Pandemic on Opioid Overdose Deaths: a Spatiotemporal Analysis. J Urban Health Bull N Y Acad Med. 2022;99(2):316-327. doi:10.1007/s11524-022-00610-0 [23] Mayes LC, Granger RH, Bornstein MH, Zuckerman B. The Problem of Prenatal Cocaine Exposure: A Rush to Judgment. JAMA. 1992;267(3):406-408. doi:10.1001/jama.1992.03480030084043 [24] NICHD Neonatal Research Network. The Maternal Lifestyle Study. clinicaltrials.gov; 2016. https://clinicaltrials.gov/ct2/show/study/NCT00059540 [25] Lester BM, Tronick EZ, LaGasse L, et al. The maternal lifestyle study: effects of substance exposure during pregnancy on neurodevelopmental outcome in 1-month-old infants. Pediatrics. 2002;110(6):1182-1192. doi:10.1542/peds.110.6.1182 [26] Lester BM, Lagasse L, Seifer R, et al. The Maternal Lifestyle Study (MLS): effects of prenatal cocaine and/or opiate exposure on auditory brain response at one month. J Pediatr. 2003;142(3):279-285. doi:10.1067/mpd.2003.112 [27] Bada HS, Bann CM, Bauer CR, et al. Preadolescent behavior problems after prenatal cocaine exposure: Relationship between teacher and caretaker ratings (Maternal Lifestyle Study). Neurotoxicol Teratol. 2011;33(1):78-87. doi:10.1016/j.ntt.2010.06.005 [28] N, P, R. Crack Babies: Twenty Years Later. NPR. Published May 3, 2010. https://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=126478643 [29] Miranda L, Dixon V, September CRP on, 30, 2015. How States Handle Drug Use During Pregnancy http://projects.propublica.org/graphics/maternity-drug-policies-by-state [30] NCDAS: Substance Abuse and Addiction Statistics [2023]. NCDAS. https://drugabusestatistics.org/ [31] (Tenn. Code Ann. § 39-15-216). [32] Institute G. Interactive Map: US Abortion Policies and Access After Roe. https://states.guttmacher.org/policies/ [33] Whitesell M, Bachand A, Peel J, Brown M. Familial, Social, and Individual Factors Contributing to Risk for Adolescent Substance Use. J Addict. 2013;2013:579310. doi:10.1155/2013/579310 [34] CDC. Five Great Benefits of Breastfeeding. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Published July 27, 2021. https://www.cdc.gov/nccdphp/dnpao/features/breastfeeding-benefits/index.html [35] Welle-Strand GK, Skurtveit S, Jansson LM, Bakstad B, Bjarkø L, Ravndal E. Breastfeeding reduces the need for withdrawal treatment in opioid-exposed infants. Acta Paediatr. 2013;102(11):1060-1066. doi:10.1111/apa.12378 [36] Ilett KF, Hackett LP, Gower S, Doherty DA, Hamilton D, Bartu AE. Estimated dose exposure of the neonate to buprenorphine and its metabolite norbuprenorphine via breastmilk during maternal buprenorphine substitution treatment. Breastfeed Med Off J Acad Breastfeed Med. 2012;7:269-274. doi:10.1089/bfm.2011.0096 [37] Pedersen CA, Smedley KL, Leserman J, et al. Intranasal Oxytocin Blocks Alcohol Withdrawal in Human Subjects. Alcohol Clin Exp Res. 2013;37(3):484-489. doi:10.1111/j.1530-0277.2012.01958.x [38] Montana SB0289. https://leg.mt.gov/bills/2019/billhtml/SB0289.htm [39] Mullins N, Galvin SL, Ramage M, Gannon M, Lorenz K, Sager B, Coulson CC. Buprenorphine and Naloxone Versus Buprenorphine for Opioid Use Disorder in Pregnancy: A Cohort Study. J Addict Med. 2020 May/Jun;14(3):185-192. doi: 10.1097/ADM.0000000000000562. PMID: 31567599. [40] Drug Related Crime Statistics [2023]: Offenses Involving Drug Use. NCDAS. https://drugabusestatistics.org/drug-related-crime-statistics/ [41] Association APH. Online only: Report finds most U.S. inmates suffer from substance abuse or addiction. Nations Health. 2010;40(3):E11-E11. [42] Principles of Drug Addiction Treatment: A Research-Based Guide (Third Edition) | NIDA Archives. Published January 17, 2018. http://archives.nida.nih.gov/publications/principles-drug-addiction-treatment-research-based-guide-third-edition

Introduction Ireland did not have a tradition of printed cookbooks prior to the 20th century. As a consequence, Irish culinary manuscripts from before this period are an important primary source for historians. This paper makes the case that the manuscripts are a unique way of accessing voices that have quotidian concerns seldom heard above the dominant narratives of conquest, colonisation and famine (Higgins; Dawson). Three manuscripts are examined to see how they contribute to an understanding of Irish social and culinary history. The Irish banking crisis of 2008 is a reminder that comments such as the one in the title of this paper may be more then a casual remark, indicating rather an underlying anxiety. Equally important is the evidence in the manuscripts that Ireland had a domestic culinary tradition sited within the culinary traditions of the British Isles. The terms “vernacular”, representing localised needs and traditions, and “polite”, representing stylistic features incorporated for aesthetic reasons, are more usually applied in the architectural world. As terms, they reflect in a politically neutral way the culinary divide witnessed in the manuscripts under discussion here. Two of the three manuscripts are anonymous, but all are written from the perspective of a well-provisioned house. The class background is elite and as such these manuscripts are not representative of the vernacular, which in culinary terms is likely to be a tradition recorded orally (Gold). The first manuscript (NLI, Tervoe) and second manuscript (NLI, Limerick) show the levels of impact of French culinary influence through their recipes for “cullis”. The Limerick manuscript also opens the discussion to wider social concerns. The third manuscript (NLI, Baker) is unusual in that the author, Mrs. Baker, goes to great lengths to record the provenance of the recipes and as such the collection affords a glimpse into the private “polite” world of the landed gentry in Ireland with its multiplicity of familial and societal connections. Cookbooks and Cuisine in Ireland in the 19th Century During the course of the 18th century, there were 136 new cookery book titles and 287 reprints published in Britain (Lehmann, Housewife 383). From the start of the 18th to the end of the 19th century only three cookbooks of Irish, or Anglo-Irish, authorship have been identified. The Lady’s Companion: or Accomplish’d Director In the whole Art of Cookery was published in 1767 by John Mitchell in Skinner-Row, under the pseudonym “Ceres,” while the Countess of Caledon’s Cheap Receipts and Hints on Cookery: Collected for Distribution Amongst the Irish Peasantry was printed in Armagh by J. M. Watters for private circulation in 1847. The modern sounding Dinners at Home, published in London in 1878 under the pseudonym “Short”, appears to be of Irish authorship, a review in The Irish Times describing it as being written by a “Dublin lady”, the inference being that she was known to the reviewer (Farmer). English Copyright Law was extended to Ireland in July 1801 after the Act of Union between Great Britain and Ireland in 1800 (Ferguson). Prior to this, many titles were pirated in Ireland, a cause of confusion alluded to by Lehmann when she comments regarding the Ceres book that it “does not appear to be simply a Dublin-printed edition of an English book” (Housewife 403). This attribution is based on the dedication in the preface: “To The Ladies of Dublin.” From her statement that she had a “great deal of experience in business of this kind”, one may conclude that Ceres had worked as a housekeeper or cook. Cheap Receipts and Hints on Cookery was the second of two books by Catherine Alexander, Countess of Caledon. While many commentators were offering advice to Irish people on how to alleviate their poverty, in Friendly Advice to Irish Mothers on Training their Children, Alexander was unusual in addressing her book specifically to its intended audience (Bourke). In this cookbook, the tone is of a practical didactic nature, the philosophy that of enablement. Given the paucity of printed material, manuscripts provide the main primary source regarding the existence of an indigenous culinary tradition. Attitudes regarding this tradition lie along the spectrum exemplified by the comments of an Irish journalist, Kevin Myers, and an eminent Irish historian, Louis Cullen. Myers describes Irish cuisine as a “travesty” and claims that the cuisine of “Old Ireland, in texture and in flavour, generally resembles the cinders after the suttee of a very large, but not very tasty widow”, Cullen makes the case that Irish cuisine is “one of the most interesting culinary traditions in Europe” (141). It is not proposed to investigate the ideological standpoints behind the various comments on Irish food. Indeed, the use of the term “Irish” in this context is fraught with difficulty and it should be noted that in the three manuscripts proposed here, the cuisine is that of the gentry class and representative of a particular stratum of society more accurately described as belonging to the Anglo-Irish tradition. It is also questionable how the authors of the three manuscripts discussed would have described themselves in terms of nationality. The anxiety surrounding this issue of identity is abating as scholarship has moved from viewing the cultural artifacts and buildings inherited from this class, not as symbols of an alien heritage, but rather as part of the narrative of a complex country (Rees). The antagonistic attitude towards this heritage could be seen as reaching its apogee in the late 1950s when the then Government minister, Kevin Boland, greeted the decision to demolish a row of Georgian houses in Dublin with jubilation, saying that they stood for everything that he despised, and describing the Georgian Society, who had campaigned for their preservation, as “the preserve of the idle rich and belted earls” (Foster 160). Mac Con Iomaire notes that there has been no comprehensive study of the history of Irish food, and the implications this has for opinions held, drawing attention to the lack of recognition that a “parallel Anglo-Irish cuisine existed among the Protestant elite” (43). To this must be added the observation that Myrtle Allen, the doyenne of the Irish culinary world, made when she observed that while we have an Irish identity in food, “we belong to a geographical and culinary group with Wales, England, and Scotland as all counties share their traditions with their next door neighbour” (1983). Three Irish Culinary Manuscripts The three manuscripts discussed here are held in the National Library of Ireland (NLI). The manuscript known as Tervoe has 402 folio pages with a 22-page index. The National Library purchased the manuscript at auction in December 2011. Although unattributed, it is believed to come from Tervoe House in County Limerick (O’Daly). Built in 1776 by Colonel W.T. Monsell (b.1754), the Monsell family lived there until 1951 (see, Fig. 1). The house was demolished in 1953 (Bence-Jones). William Monsell, 1st Lord Emly (1812–94) could be described as the most distinguished of the family. Raised in an atmosphere of devotion to the Union (with Great Britain), loyalty to the Church of Ireland, and adherence to the Tory Party, he converted in 1850 to the Roman Catholic religion, under the influence of Cardinal Newman and the Oxford Movement, changing his political allegiance from Tory to Whig. It is believed that this change took place as a result of the events surrounding the Great Irish Famine of 1845–50 (Potter). The Tervoe manuscript is catalogued as 18th century, and as the house was built in the last quarter of the century, it would be reasonable to surmise that its conception coincided with that period. It is a handsome volume with original green vellum binding, which has been conserved. Fig. 1. Tervoe House, home of the Monsell family. In terms of culinary prowess, the scope of the Tervoe manuscript is extensive. For the purpose of this discussion, one recipe is of particular interest. The recipe, To make a Cullis for Flesh Soups, instructs the reader to take the fat off four pounds of the best beef, roast the beef, pound it to a paste with crusts of bread and the carcasses of partridges or other fowl “that you have by you” (NLI, Tervoe). This mixture should then be moistened with best gravy, and strong broth, and seasoned with pepper, thyme, cloves, and lemon, then sieved for use with the soup. In 1747 Hannah Glasse published The Art of Cookery, Made Plain and Easy. The 1983 facsimile edition explains the term “cullis” as an Anglicisation of the French word coulis, “a preparation for thickening soups and stews” (182). The coulis was one of the essential components of the nouvelle cuisine of the 18th century. This movement sought to separate itself from “the conspicuous consumption of profusion” to one where the impression created was one of refinement and elegance (Lehmann, Housewife 210). Reactions in England to this French culinary innovation were strong, if not strident. Glasse derides French “tricks”, along with French cooks, and the coulis was singled out for particular opprobrium. In reality, Glasse bestrides both sides of the divide by giving the much-hated recipe and commenting on it. She provides another example of this in her recipe for The French Way of Dressing Partridges to which she adds the comment: “this dish I do not recommend; for I think it an odd jumble of thrash, by that time the Cullis, the Essence of Ham, and all other Ingredients are reckoned, the Partridges will come to a fine penny; but such Receipts as this, is what you have in most Books of Cookery yet printed” (53). When Daniel Defoe in The Complete English Tradesman of 1726 criticised French tradesmen for spending so much on the facades of their shops that they were unable to offer their customers a varied stock within, we can see the antipathy spilling over into other creative fields (Craske). As a critical strategy, it is not dissimilar to Glasse when she comments “now compute the expense, and see if this dish cannot be dressed full as well without this expense” at the end of a recipe for the supposedly despised Cullis for all Sorts of Ragoo (53). Food had become part of the defining image of Britain as an aggressively Protestant culture in opposition to Catholic France (Lehmann Politics 75). The author of the Tervoe manuscript makes no comment about the dish other than “A Cullis is a mixture of things, strained off.” This is in marked contrast to the second manuscript (NLI, Limerick). The author of this anonymous manuscript, from which the title of this paper is taken, is considerably perplexed by the term cullis, despite the manuscript dating 1811 (Fig. 2). Of Limerick provenance also, but considerably more modest in binding and scope, the manuscript was added to for twenty years, entries terminating around 1831. The recipe for Beef Stake (sic) Pie is an exact transcription of a recipe in John Simpson’s A Complete System of Cookery, published in 1806, and reads Cut some beef steaks thin, butter a pan (or as Lord Buckingham’s cook, from whom these rects are taken, calls it a soutis pan, ? [sic] (what does he mean, is it a saucepan) [sic] sprinkle the pan with pepper and salt, shallots thyme and parsley, put the beef steaks in and the pan on the fire for a few minutes then put them to cool, when quite cold put them in the fire, scrape all the herbs in over the fire and ornament as you please, it will take an hour and half, when done take the top off and put in some coulis (what is that?) [sic]. Fig. 2. Beef Stake Pie (NLI, Limerick). Courtesy of the National Library of Ireland. Simpson was cook to Lord Buckingham for at least a year in 1796, and may indeed have travelled to Ireland with the Duke who had several connections there. A feature of this manuscript are the number of Cholera remedies that it contains, including the “Rect for the cholera sent by Dr Shanfer from Warsaw to the Brussels Government”. Cholera had reached Germany by 1830, and England by 1831. By March 1832, it had struck Belfast and Dublin, the following month being noted in Cork, in the south of the country. Lasting a year, the epidemic claimed 50,000 lives in Ireland (Fenning). On 29 April 1832, the diarist Amhlaoibh Ó Súilleabháin notes, “we had a meeting today to keep the cholera from Callan. May God help us” (De Bhaldraithe 132). By 18 June, the cholera is “wrecking destruction in Ennis, Limerick and Tullamore” (135) and on 26 November, “Seed being sown. The end of the month wet and windy. The cholera came to Callan at the beginning of the month. Twenty people went down with it and it left the town then” (139). This situation was obviously of great concern and this is registered in the manuscript. Another concern is that highlighted by the recommendation that “this receipt is as good as the bank. It has been obligingly given to Mrs Hawkesworth by the chief book keeper at the Bank of Ireland” (NLI, Limerick). The Bank of Ireland commenced business at St. Mary’s Abbey in Dublin in June 1783, having been established under the protection of the Irish Parliament as a chartered rather then a central bank. As such, it supplied a currency of solidity. The charter establishing the bank, however, contained a prohibitory clause preventing (until 1824 when it was repealed) more then six persons forming themselves into a company to carry on the business of banking. This led to the formation, especially outside Dublin, of many “small private banks whose failure was the cause of immense wretchedness to all classes of the population” (Gilbert 19). The collapse that caused the most distress was that of the Ffrench bank in 1814, founded eleven years previously by the family of Lord Ffrench, one of the leading Catholic peers, based in Connacht in the west of Ireland. The bank issued notes in exchange for Bank of Ireland notes. Loans from Irish banks were in the form of paper money which were essentially printed promises to pay the amount stated and these notes were used in ordinary transactions. So great was the confidence in the Ffrench bank that their notes were held by the public in preference to Bank of Ireland notes, most particularly in Connacht. On 27 June 1814, there was a run on the bank leading to collapse. The devastation spread through society, from business through tenant farmers to the great estates, and notably so in Galway. Lord Ffrench shot himself in despair (Tennison). Williams and Finn, founded in Kilkenny in 1805, entered bankruptcy proceedings in 1816, and the last private bank outside Dublin, Delacours in Mallow, failed in 1835 (Barrow). The issue of bank failure is commented on by writers of the period, notably so in Dickens, Thackery, and Gaskill, and Edgeworth in Ireland. Following on the Ffrench collapse, notes from the Bank of Ireland were accorded increased respect, reflected in the comment in this recipe. The receipt in question is one for making White Currant Wine, with the unusual addition of a slice of bacon suspended from the bunghole when the wine is turned, for the purpose of enriching it. The recipe was provided to “Mrs Hawkesworth by the chief book keeper of the bank” (NLI, Limerick). In 1812, a John Hawkesworth, agent to Lord CastleCoote, was living at Forest Lodge, Mountrath, County Laois (Ennis Chronicle). The Coote family, although settling in County Laois in the seventeenth century, had strong connections with Limerick through a descendent of the younger brother of the first Earl of Mountrath (Landed Estates). The last manuscript for discussion is the manuscript book of Mrs Abraham Whyte Baker of Ballytobin House, County Kilkenny, 1810 (NLI, Baker). Ballytobin, or more correctly Ballaghtobin, is a townland in the barony of Kells, four miles from the previously mentioned Callan. The land was confiscated from the Tobin family during the Cromwellian campaign in Ireland of 1649–52, and was reputedly purchased by a Captain Baker, to establish what became the estate of Ballaghtobin (Fig. 3) To this day, it is a functioning estate, remaining in the family, twice passing down through the female line. In its heyday, there were two acres of walled gardens from which the house would have drawn for its own provisions (Ballaghtobin). Fig. 3. Ballaghtobin 2013. At the time of writing the manuscript, Mrs. Sophia Baker was widowed and living at Ballaghtobin with her son and daughter-in-law, Charity who was “no beauty, but tall, slight” (Herbert 414). On the succession of her husband to the estate, Charity became mistress of Ballaghtobin, leaving Sophia with time on what were her obviously very capable hands (Nevin). Sophia Baker was the daughter of Sir John Blunden of Castle Blunden and Lucinda Cuffe, daughter of the first Baron Desart. Sophia was also first cousin of the diarist Dorothea Herbert, whose mother was Lucinda’s sister, Martha. Sophia Baker and Dorothea Herbert have left for posterity a record of life in the landed gentry class in rural Georgian Ireland, Dorothea describing Mrs. Baker as “full of life and spirits” (Herbert 70). Their close relationship allows the two manuscripts to converse with each other in a unique way. Mrs. Baker’s detailing of the provenance of her recipes goes beyond the norm, so that what she has left us is not just a remarkable work of culinary history but also a palimpsest of her family and social circle. Among the people she references are: “my grandmother”; Dorothea Beresford, half sister to the Earl of Tyrone, who lived in the nearby Curraghmore House; Lady Tyrone; and Aunt Howth, the sister of Dorothea Beresford, married to William St Lawrence, Lord Howth, and described by Johnathan Swift as “his blue eyed nymph” (195). Other attributions include Lady Anne Fitzgerald, wife of Maurice Fitzgerald, 16th knight of Kerry, Sir William Parsons, Major Labilen, and a Mrs. Beaufort (Fig. 4). Fig. 4. Mrs. Beauforts Rect. (NLI, Baker). Courtesy of the National Library of Ireland. That this Mrs. Beaufort was the wife of Daniel Augustus Beaufort, mother of the hydrographer Sir Francis Beaufort, may be deduced from the succeeding recipe supplied by a Mrs. Waller. Mrs. Beaufort’s maiden name was Waller. Fanny Beaufort, the elder sister of Sir Francis, was Richard Edgeworth’s fourth wife and close friend and confidante of his daughter Maria, the novelist. There are also entries for “Miss Herbert” and “Aunt Herbert.” While the Baker manuscript is of interest for the fact that it intersects the worlds of the novelist Maria Edgeworth and the diarist Dorothea Herbert, and for the societal references that it documents, it is also a fine collection of recipes that date back to the mid-18th century. An example of this is a recipe for Sligo pickled salmon that Mrs. Baker, nee Blunden, refers to in an index that she gives to a second volume. Unfortunately this second volume is not known to be extant. This recipe features in a Blunden family manuscript of 1760 as referred to in Anelecta Hibernica (McLysaght). The recipe has also appeared in Cookery and Cures of Old Kilkenny (St. Canices’s 24). Unlike the Tervoe and Limerick manuscripts, Mrs. Baker is unconcerned with recipes for “cullis”. Conclusion The three manuscripts that have been examined here are from the period before the famine of 1845–50, known as An Gorta Mór, translated as “the big hunger”. The famine preceding this, Bliain an Áir (the year of carnage) in 1740–1 was caused by extremely cold and rainy weather that wiped out the harvest (Ó Gráda 15). This earlier famine, almost forgotten today, was more severe than the subsequent one, causing the death of an eight of the population of the island over one and a half years (McBride). These manuscripts are written in living memory of both events. Within the world that they inhabit, it may appear there is little said about hunger or social conditions beyond the walls of their estates. Subjected to closer analysis, however, it is evident that they are loquacious in their own unique way, and make an important contribution to the narrative of cookbooks. Through the three manuscripts discussed here, we find evidence of the culinary hegemony of France and how practitioners in Ireland commented on this in comparatively neutral fashion. An awareness of cholera and bank collapses have been communicated in a singular fashion, while a conversation between diarist and culinary networker has allowed a glimpse into the world of the landed gentry in Ireland during the Georgian period. References Allen, M. “Statement by Myrtle Allen at the opening of Ballymaloe Cookery School.” 14 Nov. 1983. Ballaghtobin. “The Grounds”. nd. 13 Mar. 2013. ‹http://www.ballaghtobin.com/gardens.html›. Barrow, G.L. “Some Dublin Private Banks.” Dublin Historical Record 25.2 (1972): 38–53. Bence-Jones, M. A Guide to Irish Country Houses. London: Constable, 1988. Bourke, A. Ed. Field Day Anthology of Irish Writing Vol V. Cork: Cork UP, 2002. Craske, M. “Design and the Competitive Spirit in Early and Mid 18th Century England”, Journal of Design History 12.3 (1999): 187–216. Cullen, L. The Emergence of Modern Ireland. London: Batsford, 1981. Dawson, Graham. “Trauma, Memory, Politics. The Irish Troubles.” Trauma: Life Stories of Survivors. Ed. Kim Lacy Rogers, Selma Leydesdorff and Graham Dawson. New Jersey: Transaction P, 2004. De Bhaldraithe,T. Ed. Cín Lae Amhlaoibh. Cork: Mercier P, 1979. Ennis Chronicle. 12–23 Feb 1812. 10 Feb. 2013 ‹http://astheywere.blogspot.ie/2012/12/ennis-chronicle-1812-feb-23-feb-12.html› Farmar, A. E-mail correspondence between Farmar and Dr M. Mac Con Iomaire, 26 Jan. 2011. Fenning, H. “The Cholera Epidemic in Ireland 1832–3: Priests, Ministers, Doctors”. Archivium Hibernicum 57 (2003): 77–125. Ferguson, F. “The Industrialisation of Irish Book Production 1790-1900.” The Oxford History of the Irish Book, Vol. IV The Irish Book in English 1800-1891. Ed. J. Murphy. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2011. Foster, R.F. Luck and the Irish: A Brief History of Change from 1970. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2008. Gilbert, James William. The History of Banking in Ireland. London: Longman, Rees, Orme, Brown, Green, and Longman, 1836. Glasse, Hannah. The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy by a Lady: Facsimile Edition. Devon: Prospect, 1983. Gold, C. Danish Cookbooks. Seattle: U of Washington P, 2007. Herbert, D. Retrospections of an Outcast or the Life of Dorothea Herbert. London: Gerald Howe, 1929. Higgins, Michael D. “Remarks by President Michael D. Higgins reflecting on the Gorta Mór: the Great famine of Ireland.” Famine Commemoration, Boston, 12 May 2012. 18 Feb. 2013 ‹http://www.president.ie/speeches/ › Landed Estates Database, National University of Galway, Moore Institute for Research, 10 Feb. 2013 ‹http://landedestates.nuigalway.ie/LandedEstates/jsp/family-show.jsp?id=633.› Lehmann, G. The British Housewife: Cookery books, cooking and society in eighteenth-century Britain. 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