Articles de revues sur le sujet « Communication – Christianisme »

Rédigées entre 1943 et 1953, ces notes inédites révèlent combien Michel Henry fut préoccupé par le problème de « l’expérience d’autrui » dès ses années de formation philosophique. Elles révèlent également l’utilisation précoce d’une jeune Henry des Ecritures comme source d’inspiration pour un certain nombre d’intuitions spécifiquement philosophiques qu’il développera dans sa trilogie de fin de vie sur la philosophie du christianisme.

La problématique de la communication concerne aux perceptions des Occidentaux à propos de Constantinople. La conclusion à laquelle elle aboutitest que les éléments qui rendaient cette ville épatante, majesteuse et emposante aux yeux des Occidentaux étaient plutôt les elements immatériels,que ses caractéristiques matériels, qui ont été résulté du fait que Constantinople a été simultanément 1) la capitale d'un empire, héritier de Rome, 2) l'héritier de la culture grecque ancienne et le porteur d'une tradition culturelle que a approvisionné longtemps la culture européenne et 3) le berceau du christianisme et le trésor des reliques de ses saints.<br />

RésuméReligion du Livre, le christianisme présente maintes situations quotidiennes, sacramentelles ou imaginaires où l’écrit s’investit et rayonne de sacralité. Il s’agit ici d’examiner, dans le champ de la chrétienté européenne et les milieux des clercs lettrés, les formes d’usage sacré du livre et de l’écrit, hermétisme et rites magiques inclus. Deux questions guident l’exploration du double caractère (sacramentel-saint/magique-diabolique) attribué à l’écrit: comment les livres, les rouleaux et les lettres s’investissent de propriétés sacrées, positives ou négatives en fonction de leur contenu et de leur contexte d’utilisation; et comment l’écriture, en tant qu’acte de communication, devient un médium permettant d’établir le contact avec des êtres surnaturels, de conclure des pactes avec eux et d’en recevoir des messages.

Résumé Ma communication se propose de vérifier si, et jusqu’à quel point, dans le domaine particulier de la religion populaire canadienne-française, on peut appliquer les mêmes hypothèses aux rapports entre le centre et les marges que l’on applique dans les autres domaines de la culture populaire. En ce qui concerne la religion, en effet, la dynamique autogène de l’évolution culturelle est entravée par l’intervention massive d’une autorité ecclésiastique qui modifie, favorise ou censure à son gré, avec un poids auquel il est difficile de résister. On pourrait même se demander si, dans le domaine de la religion populaire, le schéma ne serait pas renversé par rapport aux autres domaines de la culture : cette religion se maintient fortement en France, et elle s’effiloche jusqu’à disparaître, ou presque, au Québec et en Acadie. Plusieurs variables, par ailleurs, viennent modifier un tel tableau. Il faut d’abord distinguer entre religion populaire en tant que « christianisme popularisé » et religion populaire en tant que forme originale de symbiose entre christianisme et cultures ethniques. Il faut aussi différencier l’action du clergé non seulement selon les temps et les lieux, mais selon les diverses thématiques : depuis toujours, en effet, la pastorale chrétienne distingue entre ce qui est prescrit et ce qui est suggéré, ce qui est déconseillé et ce qui est défendu. Il se peut aussi que la religion populaire se soit maintenue dans une existence souterraine, avec une vitalité que nos sources ne nous permettent pas d’apprécier pleinement.

Résumé Religion du Livre, le christianisme présente maintes situations quotidiennes, sacramentelles ou imaginaires où l’écrit s’investit et rayonne de sacralité. Il s’agit ici d’examiner, dans le champ de la chrétienté européenne et les milieux des clercs lettrés, les formes d’usage sacré du livre et de l’écrit, hermétisme et rites magiques inclus. Deux questions guident l’exploration du double caractère (sacramentel-saint/magique-diabolique) attribué à l’écrit: comment les livres, les rouleaux et les lettres s’investissent de propriétés sacrées, positives ou négatives en fonction de leur contenu et de leur contexte d’utilisation; et comment l’écriture, en tant qu’acte de communication, devient un médium permettant d’établir le contact avec des êtres surnaturels, de conclure des pactes avec eux et d’en recevoir des messages.

Bernard Reymond s’adresse ici à Schleiermacher comme à un vieil ami qui, dès le temps des études, a réussi à retenir durablement son attention à propos de trois thèmes : la notion de «religion», celle de «virtuosité» appliquée à la communication de la religion, et celle des «arts» considérés comme étroitement apparentés à la religion. Il reprend ces trois thèmes en se demandant si Schleiermacher, de retour parmi nous, les considérerait comme toujours actuels et s’il les modulerait. Il indique ensuite quelques aspects de la pensée de Schleiermacher qui le laissent songeur : sa conception de la piété, restée très marquée par le revivalisme morave ; son affirmation selon laquelle le christianisme serait «la religion des religions» ; la tournure très construite de son argumentation christologique. Il remarque, en fin de parcours, que, devant l’intérêt qu’on porte aujourd’hui à sa philosophie, Schleiermacher insisterait probablement sur ses options proprement théologiques.

Saint et sainteté dans le christianisme et l’islam. Le regard des sciences de l’homme Sous la direction de Nelly Amri et Denis Gril. Maisonneuve & Larose, 2007, 372 pages, 24€, ISBN : 978-2-7068-2004-5 Saint et sainteté dans le christianisme et l’islam », tel est l’intitulé de l’ouvrage qui englobe les différentes contributions présentées au colloque organisé en 2005 à Carthage en Tunisie. Les communications traitent de la sainteté et des saints dans le christianisme et dans l’islam, à savoir, les différentes constructions, interprétations, qui se profilent dans les sciences de l’homme. Elles s’articulent donc autour de la problématique centrale de la rencontre qui évoque la question des saints face au présent...

« Nous sommes les vrais protestants ! Nous sommes les héritiers des Réformateurs du xvie siècle ! Nous sommes les hérauts de la Seconde Réformation ! » Tels sont, en gros, les slogans lancés par les tenants du nouveau courant libéral ou moderniste apparu lors du second tiers du xixe siècle aux Pays-Bas. La « seconde Réformation » que ces libéraux jugeaient nécessaire pour la crédibilité et la survie du christianisme pour les temps à venir devait être une sorte d’épée à double tranchant. Inspirés par les travaux de la critique biblique moderne, les libéraux ambitionnaient de moderniser le christianisme de l’intérieur et à travers ses institutions en l’affranchissant de ses vieilles idées et pratiques enracinées dans les représentations supranaturelles. En complément, ils aspiraient à rendre la société perméable à un tel christianisme modernisé, dans lequel les individus seraient libérés de toutes les résistances faisant obstacle à leur propre accomplissement spirituel. Centré sur les Pays-Bas, cet article entend démontrer que, contrairement à ce que l’on aurait pu croire, les libéraux ne furent pas aussi radicaux que leur discours sur une « seconde Réformation » l’annonçait. À dire vrai, on constate que de tels propos furent sans écho en dehors de la bourgeoisie, ce qui finit par les disqualifier face aux défis de la vie religieuse et sociale.

Thomas More’s Utopia and the subsequent literary creations that belong to the same literary genre represent the affirmation of human initiative and its exclusive responsibility for the laws that rule the destiny of the City. This political autarchy points at an organisation of the society, so zealous of autonomy, that it seems to exclude from itself any divinity or religion. This is not, however, what we see in most of the utopic narratives, starting with the one by More that deals extensively with the religious issue. What statute and significance does religion have in the utopias? The answer can be attempted at three principal levels, which correspond to the same amount of ways of presence and articulation of the religious element in the described societies. There is, firstly, the consecration of Christianism as supreme religion in More’s Utopia. However, this consecration does not prevent the dimension of social criticism, characteristic of the utopic imagination, from applying also to the religious phenomenon. We have, then, the Christian reference to narratives in which the Christianism of origins appears as inspiration and model. Let us remember, for example, the «New Christianism» by Saint-Simon. Lastly, in the last two centuries, the horizon of Christianism tends to dissipate itself in narratives that advocate the implantation of a new social ethics. In this communication, we deal solely with the «Utopias of the Renaissance», the utopias of Thomas More, Tommaso Campanella and Francis Bacon.

Language death can occur naturally, and in different ways, or it can be caused by deliberate policy. This is how deliberate practices and policies brought it about in Australia. •Diverse linguistic groups of Aborigines were forced into small missions or reserves to live together; consequently languages that were numerically stronger squeezed the others out of use.•Anxious to ‘Christianise’ the Aborigines, missionaries enforced harsh penalties on users of Aboriginal languages, even to the point of snatching babies from their mothers and institutionalising them, so they would not hear their parental languages.•Aboriginal religious ceremonies were banned; initiations did not take place, and so liturgical, ceremonial and secret languages were unable to be passed on. As old people died, their languages died with them.•Assimilationist/integrationist policies were enforced which required Aborigines to attend schools where English-only was the medium of instruction.•Finally, denigration of the Aboriginal languages set the seal on their fate in Victoria (within forty years of white settlement, all Gippsland languages had become extinct), most of New South Wales, South Australia and Queensland. Labelling the languages “rubbish”, “heathen jargon”, “primitive jibberish”, and so on, made Aboriginal people reluctant to use their normal means of communication.

<p><strong>Abstract:</strong> Does the internet change the way of thinking from the people and members of the Church in Indonesia? I give a “yes” answer to this question. This answer was born from the reality that digital technology is not limited as a means or instrument that helps humans to achieve a better life. More than that, the internet has become a space of life that determines and gives meaning to human existence and the existence of the Indonesian Church. The internet also creates a culture called cyber culture. If the internet breeds new logical thinking and culture, and its existence has seized the attention of members of the Catholic Church, so the internet can become locus theologicus. The existence of the internet as a locus of theology is confirmed by the Popes.<br />Seeing this reality, the Indonesian Catholic Church through the theologians need to develop a new theology, namely cyber theology. Through this cyber theology, the members of the Church find that the sophisticated communication technology reflects Christianism which is fundamentally a communicative event.</p><p><br /><strong>Keywords:</strong> Cyber theology, internet, Indonesian Church, cyber culture</p>

Zusammenfassung: In der bisherigen Forschung wurde die Lage der frühmittelalterlichen slawischen Gräberfelder im Bezug zu ihrem naturräumlichen Kontext, zu einer archäo lo gisch nachweisbaren Siedlung sowie zu einem Heiligtum untersucht. Eine derartige Untersuchungsweise erlaubt zwar, die Lage der Gräberfelder genau zu bestimmen und zu beschreiben, jedoch bleibt der Grund dieser Lokalisierung immer noch unbekannt. Die wenigen schriftlichen Quellen erlauben nicht, die ursprünglichen Gründe der Lokalisierung der Bestattungsplätze festzustellen. Trotz dieser unzureichenden Bestätigung in den zeitgenössischen Schriftquellen wird die Lage der slawischen Gräberfelder – besonders derjenigen, die vor der Christianisierung entstanden sind – mit den Bestattungssitten in Zusammenhang gebracht und durch die slawischen Jenseitsvorstellungen erklärt. Aufgrund der archäologischen Nachweise kann man feststellen, dass die slawischen Gräberfelder, sowohl vor als auch nach der Christianisierung, sich in gewisser Entfernung von der Siedlung, meist jenseits eines Wasserlaufes oder tiefer Geländesenken und oft an schwer zugäng lichen Geländeformationen, wie Anhöhen befinden. Eine derartige Lage kann kultische Konnotationen suggerieren. Betrachtet man jedoch den Bestattungsplatz ausschließlich als einen integralen Teil der Siedlungskammer, wird eine andere Interpretation dieses Phänomens möglich. Eine Analyse der Lage der slawischen Gräberfelder aus dem ost- und westslawischen Siedlungsgebiet, die mit Bezug auf die Bodeneigenschaften durchgeführt wurde, lässt erkennen, dass die slawischen Bestattungsplätze sich immer in schwer zugänglichen und wirtschaftlich unattraktiven Bereichen einer Siedlungskammer befinden. Man darf daher vermuten, dass für ein Gräberfeld solche Gebiete einer Siedlungskammer ausgewählt wurden, die entweder von schlechter Bodenqualität waren, oder sich durch eine ungünstige Lage in Bezug zur Siedlung und zu den Transportwegen auszeichneten, sich z. B. hinter einem Geländehindernis befanden. Besonders bemerkenswert ist auch die Tatsache, dass sich eine derartige Lage sowohl für die Gräberfelder mit Brand- als auch jene mit Körperbestattungen nachweisen lässt. Daher muss festgestellt werden, dass der mit dem Religionswandel verbundene Übergang vom Brand- zum Körperritus keine Änderungen der Lage der Gräberfelder verursachte, eine Verbindung zu traditionellen oder christlich beeinflussten Begräbnissitten kann daher ausgeschlossen werden. Die für die Platzwahl in der Forschung vermuteten kultischen Kriterien finden keine Bestätigung in den archäologischen und schriftlichen Quellen. Résumé: Les recherches antérieures ont tenu compte de la situation topographique qu’occupaient les nécropoles slaves du Haut Moyen-Âge par rapport à leur milieu naturel, ou en relation avec un habitat documenté archéologiquement, ou encore envers un sanctuaire, mais une telle approche – bien qu’elle permette d’établir et de décrire précisément l’emplacement d’une nécropole – laisse inexplorées les raisons qui ont mené au choix d’un site. Les rares sources écrites qui ont survécu ne permettent pas de mieux cerner quelles étaient les facteurs à l’origine du choix d’un site funéraire. Malgré les maigres indices que ces sources peuvent nous donner, le présent article tente d’examiner l’emplacement des nécropoles slaves – en particulier celles établies avant la conversion au Christianisme – par rapport aux rites funéraires pratiqués et de mieux comprendre comment les Slaves percevaient l’au-delà. Les données archéologiques indiquent que les nécropoles slaves, avant et après la Christianisation des régions slaves, se trouvaient à une certaine distance des lieux d’habitat, très souvent au-delà d’un cours d’eau ou d’une gorge, et fréquemment situées sur un terrain peu accessible, par exemple sur une hauteur ou au fond d’une dépression. Ces emplacements pourraient avoir des connotations religieuses. Mais si l’on considère les lieux de sépultures exclusivement comme faisant partie intégrale des zones d’habitat, une autre interprétation peut être avancée. L’analyse de la situation topographique des nécropoles slaves dans les zones occupées par les Slaves de l’est et de l’ouest, conduite en prenant en compte les caractéristiques du sol, indique que ces nécropoles étaient toujours situées dans des lieux peu accessibles et peu productifs du point de vue de l’exploitation de la zone d’habitat. On peut en déduire que de telles situations avaient été choisies à dessein, soit à cause de la mauvaise qualité du terrain, soit parce qu’elles étaient mal placées par rapport à l’habitat et aux voies de communication, par exemple derrière un obstacle dans le paysage. Notons que ceci fut le cas tout autant pour les nécropoles contenant des crémations que celles à inhumations. Il en ressort que la transition entre les rites de crémation et les pratiques d’inhumation qui accompagna le changement de religion n’a pas eu de reflet dans le choix de l’emplacement des nécropoles. Le choix du site n’a donc pas été influencé par la transformation des rites funéraires traditionnels et Chrétiens. Les données que nous présentons ici, basées sur la documentation archéologique et un examen des sources écrites, suggèrent que les éléments cultuels n’étaient pas un facteur déterminant dans l’emplacement des nécropoles. Abstract: Research to date has considered the location of Early Medieval Slavic cemeteries in relation to their natural environment, to archaeologically documented settlements, and to the presence of sanctuaries. While such approaches enable us to establish and describe accurately the situation of a given cemetery, they do not address why a specific site was chosen. The few written sources at our disposal do not allow us to fathom the reasons why particular sites were chosen as burial places. Despite this meagre documentary evidence, the present article attempts to relate the location of Slavic cemeteries – especially those that came into being before conversion to Christianity – to burial rites and hence try to explain the Slavs’ perception of the afterworld. The archaeological evidence indicates that Slavic cemeteries, both before and after conversion to Christianity, were located at a certain distance from settlements, most often beyond a water course or a gorge, and frequently in a landscape that was not easily accessible, such as high ground or hollows. Such locations seem to have cultic connotations. But if we consider the place of burial exclusively as forming an integral part of the settlement environment, then another interpretation of the phenomenon becomes possible. The analysis of the location of Slavic cemeteries from the western and eastern Slav regions conducted in relation to an examination of soil properties indicates thatthe Slavic burial grounds were always located on ground that was difficult to access and on land that was unsuitable for agriculture within a given settlement area. It can be inferred that cemetery sites were earmarked for each settlement area either because of the poor quality of the land or because access was unsuitable with respect to the settlement and to transport routes, for example a location behind an obstacle in the landscape. The fact that such locations applied to inhumation as well as to cremation cemeteries is particularly worth noting. Indeed the transition from cremation to inhumation, which was connected to a change in religious practices, did not affect the location of cemeteries, and hence that the position of burial grounds was not related to traditional or newly-introduced Christian burial rites. The observations made here, corroborated by both archaeological and written sources, suggest that cultic aspects did not influence the choice of a specific location for a cemetery.

This article deals with certain semiotic issues pertaining to Christianity and Islam in medieval times. The formalization of “holy books” and the definition of “communities of believers” are the objects of struggles that are both material and symbolic. This article begins by presenting three categories of signs: written (holy books), oral (esoteric initiations) and pictorial (religious icons). It then identifies the idea of community as well as the ideal medium to create a horizontal link (within the community) and a vertical one (between the community of the faithful and a God who henceforth is transcendent). These links seem to oscillate between communication and communion and to favour a temporal as well as spiritual effectiveness.Nous abordons ici certains enjeux sémiotiques dans le christianisme et l’islam de la période médiévale. La formalisation des « livres saints » et la définition des « communautés de croyants » sont l’objet de luttes conjointement matérielles et symboliques. Nous commençons par évoquer le cas de trois catégories de signe : l’écrit (livres saints), l’oralité (initiation ésotérique) et les images saintes (icônes). Nous identifions ensuite la conception de la communauté et le médium privilégié pour construire un lien horizontal (au sein de la communauté) et vertical (entre la communauté de fidèles et un Dieu désormais transcendant). Le lien semble ainsi osciller entre communication et communion et privilégie des types de signes qui ont une efficace temporelle aussi bien que spirituelle.

Abstract Cognitive semiotics should not only use psychology and neurology as the background of multi-modal sign usage, but it must also take into account the biological, and specifically the evolutionary and developmental aspects of communication with signs, or in Cassirer’s terms, of “symbolic forms”. This article deals with questions of the emergence of religion (in general) and the morphogenesis of specific religious (and mythical) forms. As a theoretical background, it has recourse to René Thom’s “morpho-dynamics” and “semio-physics”. The contours of a catastrophe-theoretical model of morphogenesis of religions and their possible implosion after a phase of hyper-complexity are described with a focus on polytheistic features of Hinduism and its implosion in the Buddhist “revolution”. A section on Christianism describes the early phases of its self-organization (after the death of Jesus) and its stabilization as a state religion. The basic attractors of this morphogenesis are Jesus and (his mother) Mary. Finally, the further unfolding of religion, its semio- and ratio-genesis, are commented on. The morpho-dynamic modeling of religion avoids traditional, cultural and philosophical biases and raises the highly controversial topic of religion to a scientific level, accessible to mathematical treatment and empirical evaluation.

In the public domain of end, what is the real impact of endism on our cultural and political lives? Are the proponents of apocalypse and armageddon correct to assume that there is an impending divine climax to the system of human affairs on this planet? Researching in the world of endism, it is usually the extreme, often dangerous forms of endist belief which the media popularly exploit to define 'other' forms of 'endist' fundamentalism. Reading about the apocacidal (suicides for the apocalypse) tendencies of various cults and sects horrifies us in their acts of forcible manipulation. Yet apocaholicism (a mental state of intoxication on the endtimes) can not be limited to the extra-societal gathering in the outer suburbs that awaits an end with grim but enthusiastic anticipation and which makes the occasional evening news headline or Sixty Minutes exposure. Nor can a keen sense of apocalypse be situated as being primarily a characteristic of religious fundamentalism. Secular society itself, as suggested by this collection of essays, is drunk on different meditations of the 'end'. In film alone, from Deep Impact through Armageddon to The End of Days, a mainstream space exists for courting the end in public forms of spectacularisation and profit-making. In this use, the end creates revenue. But there are other senses of the end too in secular society. Within the broader scope of the public exist those individuals who comprise this mass, and who also experience an ultimate more personal end, death. Yet death is only regarded literally by the physical professions. In the more social sphere, this phenomenon is as highly constructed as any other cultural entity. For instance, death functions as closure to the individual narrative of life. In this place, it is greeted with wails of sorrow and remorse for the deceased, and it is for this reason that death is also constructed as a beginning for a transformed body and other world in some belief systems. This latter view of death minimises the importance of death by subscribing to a perspective, which postulates life as an ongoing series of endings - of childhood, education, career, hearing and physical existence. However, death manifests itself in many other forms, as this issue of M/C demonstrates. In this collection, twelve authors wrestle with the question of 'end' and interrogate the links between the character of 'end' and the crisis of definition in what exactly is an 'end'? Refusing to offer superficial solutions to defining 'end', participants from America, Australia, New Zealand and England maintain that the 'end' is never neutral, but that the totality of a given time, of individual personalities reading 'signs of the endtimes', and the question of narrative -- not just the benefits of charting an 'end' from a supposed 'beginning' -- must be taken into account. The two streams of public and private senses of the end have directed the flow and organisation of content within this issue of M/C. How we engage with private, often personal treatments of 'end' is as important as how we deal with 'endism' in the public domain. Yet, as became apparent in shaping this engagement for publication, these two spheres of interrogation are not similar and sometimes mutually inconsistent. In order to not favour public over private, we decided to arrange the collection into two sections: 'critiques' and 'perspectives', with the addition of two guided internet tours by the editors. Six writers examine the domain of end as public narrative: The critiques section feature article asks, 'the end of the world is near, or is it?' It can be suggested that endtime expectants are tied to doctrines of theology that define the 'end' in very specialised terms. The terms can be contradictory across theologica -- one religious organisation may understand Sunday worship to mark a sign of the end whereas another perceives something more immediate and apocalyptic in the ascendancy of smart cards -- but for endtimes believers their interpretative home resides along a single intellectual path: the 'end' is theological. With the layperson in mind, David Bennett marks out this theological landscape used to represent and define the apocalypse in Australia. He introduces us to an often hidden character of the armageddon script, the Endtimer, and reminds us that prophecy popularisation in Australia, if less visible than in our western counterparts, remains alive and well in 1999. How well received is the Endtimer within society? Nick Caldwell takes on another type of Endtimer, the 'spoilers and cheaters' -- those democratisers of access and evaluation to the 'end' of a film or game. He argues that since we cannot have an 'end' without narrative, we need to think about the textual strategies used when we try to locate the 'end' in a particular textual place and the reading strategies used to avoid this 'end' until its appointed time of authorial revelation. Nick re-evaluates the place of the spoiler or cheater in contemporary reading practices, though not without a strategically placed spoiler of his own... Extending narrative to medium, 'Bandwidth' is clearly a term whose time is here. But what would the reconceptualisation of 'bandwidth' suggest for its future? Axel Bruns interrogates the ways in which 'bandwidth' is created and defined by its users and controllers. In 'The End of Bandwidth', he considers the tactical implications of 'non-bandwidth' activity upon the media environment and suggests the migration of the term 'bandwidth' to the periphery in favour of a less commercially framed interpretation -- the intersubjective 'infinite' -- is more suited to a contemporary and workable understanding of the Net. 'Apocacides, Apocaholics and Apocalists' takes a selective tour through the landscape of endism that permeates the Internet. One must ask, 'why contemporary apocalypticism'? Certainly not because visions of extinction dominate private, popular and scientific imaginations today? Nor because the apocalypse is an interesting anecdote from scriptures past, a tale of postponed divine re-creation to be told from generation to generation of what might have been had Friedrich Nietzsche not spoken up? Too many expect an imminent literal end to the world as we know it for the detractors of endism to dismiss it so easily. The reasons for apocalyptism are often hidden, slippery in definition -- sometimes for the complex history of the endtimes narrative, other times for the less than enthusiastic responses it evokes in the non-Christianised world. Geoff Hoyte offers one explanation regarding the endurance of endism: hope. In a common-sense approach to the 'end', he relates a humble perspective of dignified courtship with apocalypticism and suggests a key to an even greater 'beginning'. Can there be a context for intellectual legitimacy of the apocalypse? Henry Lawton outlines a variety of approaches to endism and in the process positions as a central concern questions to do with representations of the 'end' in popular and intellectual work. From the discipline of psychohistory, Henry argues that it is possible to chart the development of endist perspectives. From a listener's perspective, Alex Burns examines the cycles of alien discontinuity, fragmentation and post-millennium foreboding within a gritty meditation on 'end', the album The Fragile. As a reflexive index of social-political realities, Alex argues that certain styles of music can be embraced within a space for Sadeian aesthetics and that the 'dynamic synthesis' Nine Inch Nails embodies within its music has wider implications for the nature and direction of contemporary global cultural shift. A unique subjectivity, 'The Machine is Obsolete' invokes a rarely-used, if sometimes impossible language of review: the description of musical form, an aural projection, via written text, the visual projection. Six writers examine the domain of death as a private narrative: The perspectives section's feature article comes from a New Zealand Funeral Director, Michael Wolffram. From this profession, he examines the manner in which the bereaved construct death through religious and secular belief systems. According to Wolffram, these views on death actually affirm notions of beginnings rather than the presumed endings -- religious frameworks discuss death in terms of an afterlife whilst secular paradigms present the advent of an altered state of life after death via the impact of the deceased's works in a community. However, Wolffram believes that the focus of death has shifted from the community to the individual more recently, with society marginalising the experience of dying by discarding traditional systems of support. He suggests that contemporary society has yet to produce a new system of support, which has, perhaps positively, empowered the individual to choose and own a framework of death -- be it already existing, individually patented or indeed non-existent. Philip Nitschke's article continues this theme of the individual's empowerment of death. Nitschke is an Australian medical doctor best known for his strong advocacy of euthanasia and its legalisation. He begins with a story of an encounter with an 85-year-old German woman who had survived a Nazi concentration camp. She was in good health, but was requesting the power to end her life. This is a common situation, along with the requests received from terminally-ill patients, according to Nitschke, and he further claims that statistics are beginning to indicate that individuals who are empowered with their own deaths achieve an improved quality of life -- be they terminally ill or well in health. He provides these statistics as continuing evidence in his crusade to encourage medical doctors to relinquish their potential sovereignty over the timing of death in these cases and empower the individual in this matter. Pain and suffering are relative -- or so Donna Lee Brien suggests in an excerpt from her fictionalised biography of Edith and John Power. As standards of life deteriorate under war conditions, Edith Power becomes aware of the value of life itself rather than life values, by which she once judged her existence. But as she begins to appreciate living, she learns of the immanent death of her husband, John. Once again what is held dear and valued in her life shifts when all she is left with is memories. "The virtual is dead! Long live online!" cries Lelia Green in her manifesto-like article, which calls for the end of the phrase "virtual community". Green revisits some of the negative criticism of online communication and communities, addressing these by presenting some negative attributes of 'real' life and the benefits of online. As we move into the next millennium, Green believes that the notion of 'virtual' with respect to online activity should die its rightful death, and that the term "online community", in its better reflection of the its environment, should be adopted. Philosophy has long held that one cannot experience death directly or first hand, but can only hope to gain a semblance of understanding through representation. Using Levinas and Heidegger, Laurie Johnson challenges this premise, proposing that personal death can be 'experienced' through Other's death. Johnson recounts his own dream of death to explore the narrative and character of death within this dream. The character of death is identified as himself and the death dream is equated with personal experience. The author leaves the reader with the question of the extent to which dreams can potentially be related to experience. Physical, individual end can be discussed as 'death', or less obviously as the rear-end, as Simon Astley-Scholfield has done in his article on Allen Ginsberg's 1986 poem, "Sphincter". Scholfield suggests that Ginsberg's poem indicates a significant point in his writing by marking a transition in this poet's construction of sexual pleasure. As Scholfield notes, "Sphincter" incorporates an awareness of wider social issues, for instance AIDS and age, and transforms anal-erotic joy from an act involving flesh contact to that of "safe sex". This transition and maturing of the poet is observed by Scholfield in the context of his larger body of work. Endism is in a constant state of creation and intense negotiation. The 'end' derives its power from the contestation over its senses and uses: Is the 'end' as understood within an apocalyptic framework imminent? What are the signs of its approach? Is the death of self ultimate and final? What experience, if any, lies beyond that final curtain each of us will one day face? Within public and private domains, the competition for meaning over 'end' is diverse and complex but one thing is certain: the 'end' is never here nor there -- it is always nigh! Jason Ensor, Felicity Meakins-- 'End' Issue Editors Citation reference for this article MLA style: Jason Ensor, Felicity Meakins. "Editorial: 'End'." M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 2.8 (1999). [your date of access] <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9912/edit.php>. Chicago style: Jason Ensor, Felicity Meakins, "Editorial: 'End'," M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 2, no. 8 (1999), <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9912/edit.php> ([your date of access]). APA style: Jason Ensor, Felicity Meakins. (1999) Editorial: 'end'. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture v(n). <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9912/edit.php> ([your date of access]).