Articoli di riviste sul tema "And the Laws and Regulations Affecting Them Which Have Been Passed"

In the Italian context, the first law directly affecting the urban planning and building sector dates back to approximately 160 years ago, precisely Law 2248/1865. It established the administrative unification of the Kingdom of Italy, empowering municipal councils to deliberate on ‘hygiene, building and local police regulations’, and was followed a few months later by Law 2359/1865 on expropriations for public purpose. By contrast, the first regulations for the protection of artistic, historical, archaeological and ethnographic heritage (1089/1938), and natural beauty (1497/1939), are just over 80 years old. From that time onwards, the rules governing planning and design actions have been considerably enriched and developed. Hence, it is worth reflecting on the effectiveness and efficiency of a regulatory framework that has been governing territorial, urban and building transformations in an increasingly articulated and specialised manner with a view to improving the quality and sustainability of natural and anthropic habitats. Moreover, its ability to govern the ways, times and cultural and technical contents of the project production process to carry out high quality creations is worthy of consideration. Perhaps the issue of standardisation has never been the centre of attention in all sectors of civil life as today: in public administration and scientific research, among economic operators, planners, and citizens themselves. Regulatory systems are increasingly pervasive in regulating design activity and the characteristics of works in response to a general «increase in the variety and complexity of public interests that appear worthy of protection, such as the quality of the environment, the safeguarding of the natural and historical-artistic heritage, the protection of health, the safety of persons, and security […]» (Bassanini et al., 2005). Changing interests require frequent updates to adapt regulations to rapid socio-economic, cultural, and technological changes. The centres of regulatory production have also multiplied, breaking up into different levels and sectors of regulation, namely with multi-level (international, EU, national, regional, local), sectoral (economy, environment, territory, landscape, infrastructure, cultural heritage, health, etc.) and institutional governance structures, with corresponding different interests (public/private, collective/individual) and complicated relationships of interconnection, conditionality and/or competition (Raveraira, 2009). The scenario is even more complex, if we broaden the scope to include, in addition to prescriptive and binding rules, the vast universe of guiding principles, voluntary standards, guidelines, best practices, etc. Moreover, also due to the nature of the legal system model of reference (civil law derived from Roman law, as opposed to the common law of English-speaking countries, founded on the binding force of practice and judgements), Italian legislation has been stratified by an anomalous number of rules, which are often not mutually coordinated, sometimes contradictory or bearing inconsistent definitions. They are either incapable of producing the desired results, or are not the cause of effects even diametrically opposed to those expected. The attempt to solve every problem through a special regulation results in limiting the free and responsible action of citizens (and planners). Indeed, as Marco Romano points out, «to reduce people’s desires to rights codified in the doctrine of planning, imposed by enlightened and pedagogical governments on rebellious citizens unaware of their own good, is to erase what makes them citizens: the diversity of their individual life projects» (Romano, 2013). On the other hand, the discrepancy between this regulatory approach and the reality that surrounds us is evident. On Alessandro Pizzorno’s death, Fabrizio Schiaffonati recalled how, back in the 1960s, the doyen of Italian political sociology had already warned that in Italy «everything must be regulated so that everything can be conceded», pointing out that «this is still the case nowadays, more than half a century later, with good peace for the quality of the project, which is overwhelmed by constraints and contradictory procedures that are obstructive to a necessary qualitative transformation of the anthropic environment within proper time and costs» (Schiaffonati, 2019). This hypertrophic growth of laws and regulations (a true ‘legislative inflation’ or ‘regulatory pollution’) is accompanied by their rapid variability over time, so much so that a building intervention begun within a given legislative framework risks being completed in the presence of a different regulatory framework, which would not have allowed its execution, and vice versa. Not to mention the «badly written, lengthy regulations that are difficult to read and even more difficult to apply, (which) now represent a constant factor with which even the most prepared and motivated operator must come to terms» (Gorlani, 2022), which lead to confusion and interpretative doubts. This makes bureaucratic formalities unnecessarily complex, overloads administrative action, and increases the regulatory and management costs for citizens, businesses and the public institutions themselves, including those dedicated to monitoring and control actions (which, in a context of shrinking public resources, are often the first to be lacking…). Legal uncertainty leads to opaque, if not arbitrary decisions, facilitates corruption, increases discrimination and social conflict, and limits economic development, sometimes to the point of inhibiting it (Bassanini et al., 2005). A vulnus with dramatic effects, if it is true that certainty does not have to be of the law, but: «certainty is law, just as, vice versa, law is certainty, if it is true that law […], is constituted for the specific purpose of giving certainty, or rather: certainties» (emphasis added; Ruggeri, 2005). The body of urban planning legislation has expanded considerably, imposing on city and regional planning new objectives and constraints aimed at protecting and improving the quality of the environment and landscape. Strategic environmental and impact assessments, regulations to limit land consumption, to increase climate resilience and to regenerate the built environment have been in use for many years now, with their rich set of analyses and tools to manage knowledge, build scenarios, compare alternatives, and quantify their effects through indicators (environmental, socioeconomic, etc.). And yet, all this does not seem to have produced the expected effects, as witnessed by the continuing degradation of urban suburbs, the continuous increase in soil erosion by new urbanisations and infrastructures, the abandonment of ‘inland areas’, and the hydrogeological instability of the most ‘fragile’ territories. Instead, by moving more and more on the level of so-called policies, planning seems to have lost its technical capacity to conform the quality of spaces, even in their cultural value and use, in a sort of throwback of illiteracy forgetting the grammatical and syntactical rules of construction of the European city. The disciplinary crisis of the plan is evident, incapable of governing land uses and built forms, as well as the quality of public space, relying, instead, on the abstraction of ‘tactical squares’ and social streets totally inadequate to determine an organic configuration of the urban structure. There is no large city that does not have a plan for climate resilience or sustainable mobility, nor is there a major project that cannot boast top-level environmental and/or energy performance, duly certified even when it plans to replace a tree-lined park of more than 50,000 square metres with green roofs on a shopping centre (for example, San Siro in Milan). Greenwashing operations often characterise the private actions of real estate operators, in the absence of checks and controls by the public authorities. The public works sector has long been searching for a better balance of time, cost and quality of works. «A long journey, which has allowed for advances […] and regulatory innovations during the Nineties» (Schiaffonati, 2006) and which, after thirty years of conjunctural measures (suspensions, temporary derogations, emergency decrees, special procedures and competences, variations of thresholds, etc.1) has led to the new Procurement Code (legislative decree no. 36/2023). It features a text of more than 150,000 words, to which the regulatory and procedural innovations introduced by the PNRR must be added, with the related set of regulations, guidelines, explanatory circulars, protocols and technical instructions2. It is a seemingly unstoppable process of continuous correction and integration to reform the reform, in the absence of the indispensable monitoring activity that should, instead, verify and assess the effects of the application of the regulation to correctly finalise its amendment. Nevertheless, there has been no lack of significant precedents in this regard, as in the case of the French experimentation of the Spinetta Law on construction insurance systems3. If we apply to the standard the historical notion of “quality as fitness for intended use” (Juran, 1951), or to the more recent notion of «the set of properties and characteristics of a product or service that provide the capacity to satisfy expressed or implicit needs» (UNI EN ISO 8402:1995), it clearly appears that the challenge to be faced concerns not so much or only regulatory and administrative simplification, or the replacement of redundant, obsolete or unjustified regulations, but precisely the “quality of regulation”. A direction undertaken since 2001 by OECD and Apec countries with a Regulatory Reform (reference criteria to ensure quality and transparency in regulatory activity), in line with the obligation to formulate rules that are conceptually and semantically precise, clear and comprehensible in the terms used, in the objectives set, in the required behaviour (Constitutional Court, ruling no. 364 of 1988) and, above all, with contents derived from consensual and shared planning (Raveraira, 2009). Responsibility, consensus and collaboration are, I believe, the key words to possibly rethink the relationship between design and regulation. In fact, I agree with Marco Dugato’s observation in this Dossier when he argues that «the fault of normative hypertrophy cannot be attributed to the omnipotence of the regulator by itself, rather it is attributable to the contribution of the ones regulated». If it is true that architectural design is constrained by regulations, it certainly cannot be mechanically determined by them for mere reasons of conformity. Conversely, as Maria Chiara Torricelli emphasises again in the Dossier, the norm is a tool that provides valid and shared knowledge to the project; and the project itself, as a projective activity, contributes proactively to its definition. There are many examples spanning technical directives regulating the implementation cycles of the INA Casa, the result of design research in support of the political project, and the various procedural and meta design regulations derived from research in the Architectural Technology Field. Such design experiences have unfolded in an experimental manner, in derogation of the regulations and leading to their renewal. Instead, deductive design approaches seem to prevail today, due to the growing availability of algorithmic procedures that do not merely support the design process, but develop it in an almost automated manner through conditioning and prevailing indicators and parameters. These tools legitimise choices where conformity to the standard acts as a screen for the assumption of precise responsibilities. There is a conceptual and operational reversal with respect to creative, responsibly inductive design action, which experiments and innovates, putting the principles of adequate performance and compliance with needs over the criteria of formal conformity. This is evident in the relationship between technical regulations and techno-typological innovation for evolutions that move the parameters of regulatory congruity “forward”, but sometimes even “sideways”. This also counteracts the phenomena of norm obsolescence. In consideration of the pervasiveness of the regulatory systems that rule design action, it is, finally, disturbing to observe the very limited importance assigned to this subject in the education of new designers. The didactics of design, which have long been the focus of Architecture studies, rarely envisage a structured discussion on regulatory and normative aspects, leaving them to the discretion of professors. Hence, at the end of the course, a large proportion of students have never heard about the Code of Procurement, environmental impact assessment or minimum environmental criteria… Whereas it is, instead, essential to solicit, from the first year, critical attention to the normative paradigm, also for the ethical, social and professional responsibilities it entails, and to encourage the assumption of norms and constraints as factors that nourish the entire design process. The norm thus becomes a «tool for guiding and controlling design choices», which as such «must be assumed in the organisation of the starting data» (Del Nord, 1992). Not to mention the need for qualifying training programmes, as Mario Avagnina points out, so that all those involved in the process, particularly public clients, are able to carry out their tasks. The objective is far from being achieved, and «necessarily passes through the training of the figures involved, starting with the RUPs». Figures characterised not only by technical knowledge of the building process and its rules, but also by a culture of standards and conscious responsibility that can only derive from a design practice, which is continually verified in the real context, and by design actions based on an experimental method that aims to face the issues of society. Figures characterised not only by technical know-how of the building process and its rules, but also by a culture of standards and conscious responsibility, which can only derive from a practice continually verified by comparison with reality, and by design actions marked by an experimental method that finds its arguments in taking on the problems of society.

<p>Currently there are more than 150 local and international franchise businesses operating in Jordan. Franchise business in Jordan has been a crucial investment market contributing to the country’s Gross Domestic Product (GDP) and developing its economic growth and trade. Nevertheless, legal challenges to the investors which have existed may hinder them from opening up a franchise business in Jordan. One of these challenges is the lack of specific legal framework regulating franchise business. Jordanian legal system does not have specific legislation to regulate the franchise agreement (which is known as the “license agreement” in Jordan) between a franchisor and a franchisee. The lack of specific legislation may deter or at least slow down the progress of foreign and local investors in setting up franchise businesses in Jordan, as they could not reasonably anticipate the relevant laws and regulatory enforcements relating to franchise. Therefore, this paper examines the current laws and regulations governing franchise business in Jordan. The paper concludes that existing laws affecting franchise in Jordan fail to address comprehensively the legal aspects of franchise. Thus, there is a dire need for specific legal framework to govern franchise business in Jordan.</p>

This study aims to evaluate and find forms of legal protection and factors that affect law enforcement against children as victims of sexual exploitation practices in Makassar City. This research is empirical legal research using a statutory approach. Data were analyzed using descriptive qualitative analysis. The results of this study indicate that: (1) the form of legal protection against children follows Law Number 35 of 2014 concerning Child Protection which provides children's rights in the form of legal assistance, rehabilitation, and prevention; (2) Factors affecting law enforcement against child victims of sexual exploitation practices in Gorontalo City are legal substance factors, law enforcers, facilities, society, and legal culture. All of them have not been run optimally by the laws and regulations.

Introduction. Children’s preventive healthcare legislation in noncommunicable diseases strictly determines departments’ interaction: there is a distinction in responsibilities, functions, and work standards for public health services and educational institutions. However, it is hard to distinguish which department or institution is responsible for preventive healthcare implementation in practice. This topic shows a lack of understanding of how to segregate responsibilities, establish effective communication channels, and create audit standards for preventing noncommunicable diseases and health literacy. Our aim was to analyze the legal, practical, and social aspects of preventive healthcare. Materials and methods. We studied correspondences in legal regulations and real-life healthcare activities, examined morbidity cases and affecting factors, and evaluated parental attitudes towards Russia’s preventive healthcare system. We surveyed national, sectoral, and regional statutory regulations. Regarding current laws, we analyzed children physical examination data (form № 030-ПО/о-12 (2017), form № 030-ПО/о-17 (2018)). We also questioned parents about children’s preventive healthcare and healthy lifestyle (1320 participants). All empirical data was collected in the 2017-2018 years in Moscow. Results. As a result, inconsistencies in the legal regulations and practical realization of preventive healthcare activities have been found. The critical problem is that there were no adequate implementation mechanisms, no standard criteria, and control methods for specific healthcare events. There was a difference in statutory healthcare activities, treatment as it is, and parental expectations (the most noticeable discrepancies were in the healthcare sphere): there is a noticeable growth of children morbidity; parents mostly feel themselves dissatisfied with the healthcare system. Conclusion. It is vital to develop control and implementation mechanisms of national legal regulations, to adapt them in regional preventive healthcare programs, considering region peculiarities.

Although rainwater harvesting would appear to be a win-win solution to the problem of developing new sources of water, implementing rainwater harvesting in the American West has been fraught with tensions that have pitted rural farmers and other agricultural interests against urban and suburban homeowners. The water law of the western states is based on the prior appropriation doctrine, which creates a “first in time, first in right” system of water rights tied to when a user diverts surface water for beneficial use. Since water rights are property rights, state statutes and regulations that “go too far” in affecting them risk giving senior appropriators a takings claim. Based on the nature of rainwater harvesting and judicial interpretations of federal and state constitutional takings clauses, the most likely claims by downstream agricultural irrigators in the West are that state statutes authorizing rainwater harvesting are per se physical takings. Such takings require compensation, even though they do not result in the total loss of the right to use water or have a minimal economic impact on a senior appropriator. To avoid a taking, state legislatures need to draft these statutes in ways that take advantage of how existing state laws implement the prior appropriation doctrine. Colorado’s most recent rainwater harvesting statute leverages how the no-injury requirement placed on junior appropriators ultimately limits the scope of the senior appropriators’ water rights and avoids a taking.

India's foundation is its agriculture. With over 60% of the workforce employed and producing over 18% of the nation's GDP, it is a vital sector of the Indian economy. Although there are many ways in which we can use technology to increase product production, a farmer can only profit if he is able to sell his crops. Three laws have been passed by the Indian government to encourage the export of agricultural products across the nation. But today, we witness farmers all over the nation fighting against these regulations to protect their rights. Farmers worry that big merchants will exploit them as puppets and undercut the price at which they sell their goods. After doing a thorough analysis of the situation, we developed the concept of creating an agricultural produce application that facilitates direct communication between farmers and retailers, allows for product reviews and crop yielding rate prediction, and predicts the price of agricultural produce based on quantity produced and previous years' sales rates. Unpredictable rains, unexpected temperature decreases, and heat waves have all been brought on by the shifting climate, and the ecosystem has suffered significant harm. Thankfully, machine learning has produced useful methods for tackling international problems, such as agriculture. These climate change-related agricultural issues can be resolved by using various machine learning methods. The purpose of this piece is to Create a method to identify crop diseases and suggest crops. For both objectives, publicly accessible datasets were utilized. Regarding the crop recommendation system, feature extraction was done, and a variety of machine learning methods were used to train the dataset, including Support Vector Machine (SVM), Random Forest, Decision Tree, Logistic Regression, and Multilayer Perceptron. 99.30% accuracy was attained via the random forest algorithm.CNN architectures such as ResNet50, and EfficientNetV2 were trained and compared for the plant disease identification system. EfficientNetV2 outperformed the rest, with a high accuracy of 96.08%.

In the wake of the 2008 economic financial crisis, several corporate governance issues have became more relevant in the daily corporate life, among them Gender Diversity. Institutional investors, due to the critical environment began to scrupulously analyze the companies, in which they invest, monitoring the level of compliance with corporate governance best practices, something which has been neglected in the past. This lead to the view that companies in line with best practice were able to reduce risks and consequently become more stable enabling them to increase company value. Starting from 1977 several aspects of the gender diversity have been analyzed and several theories have been produced by experts in this field. In 1977, the author of Men and Women of the Corporation, Kanter, showed evidence of the benefits for a company to have a more balanced boardroom. In the last decade many researchers have dedicated their study on how more women directors could affect corporate value. The flow of theories can be classified in two categories. At the beginning, gender diversity was considered as simply the need to have more women on board, then and more recently as diversity of skills, expertise, culture and backgrounds. The interest for this argument has become wide spread, grabbing the attention of entities at different levels, including those in charge of regulating markets. Many European countries amended their Corporate Governance Codes and laws pushing for the increase of women on boards. With the intensification of different regulations, the European Commission issued a regulation, with the aim of encouraging higher participation of women at board level. Their aim was also to align all European countries rules, conscious of the relevance for companies operating in the same European environment, to work in a global market with common rules. The increased attention towards gender diversity also partly derived from the actions of proxy advisors and institutional investors. All European countries implemented their regulations at different levels, giving suggestions of targets to be reached through their corporate governance codes or through laws, as far as establishing punitive measures in case of failure to reach the established target on time. The present paper focuses on the Spanish market, an interesting jurisdiction because of the methods implemented and the progress witnessed at company level to reach the proposed targets. From 2007 to 2013 the percentage of women on boards passed from 5,78% to 14,56%. Significant the progress done in the last six years and, at the same time there is evidence that Spain moved earlier towards a balanced boardroom at legislative level, but without eliminates strong impact at corporate level except in very few cases. Country regulations did not have an effective impact on the level of women serving on boards at executive and non-executive levels due to the particular market structure. Directors can serve on the board for twelve years maintaining the status of independent director and frequently directors are re-appointed for many subsequent years. Furthermore there is not any rule for the number of boards in which a director can serve. Due to this many directors participate in more than one company board. This together with the twelve years of board tenure is obstacles to the increase of women participating to the board life. Another characteristic of the Spanish market that limits female presence on the boardrooms is the strong presence of families controlling the market. In this case many seats are covered by family representatives. This practice does not leave, much space, for external candidates to seat on the board and consequently limits the presence of women on boards. A stronger level of compliance with gender diversity is more evident from the perspective of mix of background and expertise. This level increased by 29,33% during the period considered in this study (from 2007 to 2013) and reaching 30,79% in 2013. A board that experiences a good balance in gender mix and international directors together with experts in transversal fields bring to the board expertise and knowledge to develop the company business in a more proficiency direction. This is considered to be the right recipe to enhance on corporate governance and avoid risks that could affect company value. Once more in Spain main shareholders or founding families are an obstacle to the circulation of new experience and ideas, able to ensure that the board is provided with the adequate people to take better decision in the company’s interest. Moreover, all board members have a background, in terms of academic qualifications, in line with the business of the company while there is a lack of transversal expertise. The current Spanish situation shows that regulations at local or European level are not enough to reach a balanced boardroom for gender and professional profile of board diversity. Neither of the regulations coming from the European Commission and the Spain are considered punitive measures in case of no compliance. Records provided by Catalyst at the beginning of March 2014, highlight that Norway is the country with the highest level of compliance with 40,90% of board seats held by women . Norway can be considered an example of how mandatory quota rules can work for companies. Spain could reach a high level of compliance by adopting restrictive measures, in this case, neither those characteristic elements as the Directors’ tenure or family owners, could limit or reduce the effectiveness of the measures proposed.

PurposeAlthough there has been much research on government support for export in China and other emerging economies, considerably less attention has been given to government subsidy-related importing activity in China. This study aims to propose that the government subsidies as the source of financial resources produce a significant increase of imports, as the firms are more likely to engage actively in importing technology-related products which are conducive for China’s future innovation. However, state ownership in firms negatively moderates this relationship and holds back technology imports. Improved formal regulatory institutions do not help to improve but rather weaken this relationship.Design/methodology/approachTo investigate how government policy affects imports of strategic resources in China, all of the listed firms on Chinese stock markets (from 2008 to 2014) have been selected, the firms that are engaged in exporting and importing activities. The data from the China Stock Market & Accounting Research database have been selected and merged with those of the General Administration Customs in China. A panel analysis has been done with several robustiness tests.FindingsFirst, the study indicates that government subsidies are a driving force for the development of importing activities. Second, it finds conflicts of interests between government subsidies and state ownership of a firm, as increased ownership will weaken and even negate the positive effect of a government policy, thus negatively affecting the national competitiveness in the long run. Third, it is important to take into account the issue on different levels of institutional development, even allowing for the fact that a nationwide government policy is applied to the firms located in all corners of the country.Research limitations/implicationsThe authors suggested a regional difference in regulatory development but did not find the proposed direction. In their future study, the authors will validate and generalize this intriguing substitutional effect. They expect the results will help the government to ensure that it can fulfill a policy (e.g. regulation) down to every gross-roots organization so the development of regulatory infrastructure will help the firm to obtain and accumulate strategic resources through increased imports of them. Another direction of their future study will explore how government policy will prompt the firms to increase their spending so that they can possess plenty of “stamina” for their future development.Practical implicationsDifferent levels of institutional development exist in China even allowing for the fact that a nationwide government policy should be applied to all firms within the territory. This certainly has impacts on technology imports and thus creates difficulties for firms located in the western parts of China about which the government is particularly concerned. The government needs to ensure that its policies (laws and regulations) can be fulfilled down to every gross-roots organization so that the development of regulatory infrastructure can be inclusive and pervasive, given its influence on technology importation and indigenization.Originality/valueBoth of the theoretical and empirical work centered on policy initiatives and particularly government subsidies in emerging economies that significantly influence imports of strategic resources, a means with which the firm is better able to maintain and develop its competitive advantages, particularly in an economy with institutional void. Relatedly, the results on a causal relationship help envision a transcending trajectory of China’s economy, suggesting that businesspeople should capitalize on the policy advantage so that they are better able to sustain their long-term development. The results also present implications for policymakers to encourage and support strategic move toward such import endeavors.

Purpose – Trust in financial institutions has been eroded through the collapse of mortgage-related securities, with confidence further denuded through well publicized cases of rogue traders and rate fixing cases, such as with the Lehman brothers, the Libor rate-fixing scandals, and the hypo real estate breakdown. In response to these events, governments have introduced a range of distinct policy initiatives designed to restore trust in this sector. Thus, the question arises: are these regulations and control mechanisms sufficient in isolation, or are there other elements that this sector needs to pay attention to in efforts to build and sustain customers’ trust? The paper aims to discuss these issues. Design/methodology/approach – There is a compelling agenda for both financial organizations and academics to understand better organizational trust in this context especially the role and impact of regulatory mechanisms in its development and repair. The paper therefore examines the special facets of the financial services sector in comparison to other sectors, such as manufacturing, to consider whether trust is fundamentally different in this context than others, and thus address how far there are special challenges concerning trust and the banking industry. The paper analyses, by using a meta-analytical design, 93 studies (N=38,631), of which 20 empirically investigate organizational trust in the financial sector with a combined N of 11,224 respondents. Findings – The paper shows that the banking sector is heavily affected by two distinct forces: first, customers’ perception of an organization's level of compliance and conformity with laws and regulations is a necessity for banks’ sociopolitical legitimization, and second it is also related to how non-compliance is dealt with. Importantly, this meta-analysis indicates that regulation is just one of a suite of devices that organizations need to deploy in their efforts to restore trust. The paper identified two further elements of significance: customers require direct evidence, derived either from their own or others’ satisfaction with the goods or services provided, and customers do take note of the external endorsement of the firm, especially in Asia, where customers place huge emphasis on the firm's reputation. Research limitations/implications – First, meta-analysis is inherently reliant on the earlier studies and therefore retains their weaknesses. Some of the relationships included self-report variables collected at the same point in time and therefore may be inflated by common method bias. Second, due to the focus and because of the limited number of studies in this sector, and a paucity of attention on some key topics, such as perceptions of regulation, second-order sampling error may also be a limitation. Third, some relationships were not investigated frequently enough in studies to enable us to include them in the review, such as cooperation, opportunistic behaviour or quality. Finally, despite calls for trust scholars to include propensity to trust measures within their studies, many of these studies do not include this measure and therefore it is more difficult to identify and control individual difference factors. Practical implications – The results show the merit of multi-strand trust development strategies. There is a striking paucity of financial institutions, which have examined how far their trust deficit may be related to their internal culture, and whether recent corporate corruption could be the product of bonuses and the internal short-term individualized reward systems. The analysis reveals that although external regulations and controls are an effective and powerful devise for organizational trust, over the last two periods of significant crisis, their impact appears to be warning; Yet reassuring customers of their expectations of the other party's future behaviour is central to trust. Alternative remedies need to be considered, such as the establishment of a more effective regulator, or board of governors who oversee and assure compliance. Monitoring and surveillance offer a further external means of reducing the possibility of future misbehaviours. However, as the analysis indicates, other strands are required to build trust, including greater attention by firms on customers’ direct experiences, which in turn would enhance the third part endorsement of their competence and goodwill intentions of organizations. Social implications – Significantly, the results indicate the potentially partial erosion of credence factors, and thus confidence, in this sector over the last 20 years, during what has been a period of repeated exposure to trust breaches. The paper shows that single strand solutions, such as improvements to customer communication, are no longer sufficient, nor, more importantly, do they have the same impact. Instead, the paper shows the necessity to utilize more effectively and target attention towards three distinct antecedents: external regulations and their enforcement; third party and expert endorsements, and therefore external reputations; and customer satisfaction in terms of the effective delivery of customer expectations. Originality/value – Organizational trust has been shown as critical in positively affecting and repairing broken relationships through uncertainty reduction and confidence enhancement. In the past, different meta-analyses of trust have been undertaken, but this, to the authors knowledge, is the first meta-analytic study measuring trust on an organizational level in the context of the financial services sector and its regulatory environment. This meta-analysis indicates that regulation is just one of a suite of devices that organizations need to deploy in their efforts to restore trust. The paper identified two further elements: customers require direct evidence, and do take note of the external endorsement of the firm.

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

In May, 2021, the single section of title 40 of the Brazilian industrial property act (LPI 9.279/1996), which guaranteed a minimum term of 10 years to a granted patent was found unconstitutional by a decision on the Direct Act of Unconstitutionality #5529/DF (ADI5529/DF). It resulted in crucial and immediate effects, especially in Brazilian pharmaceutical market, affecting the and the international interests of pharmaceutical companies in the Brazilian market. Such law changes, although being a national matter, but having international consequences must be under watch worldwide, since they are not arbitrary, but the result of the power that each country has to exert their legal freedom. Therefore, considering the information available on patent databases, this work evidences such effects, evaluating American pharmaceutical patents with correspondents in Brazil that had been benefiting from a particular provision of the Brazilian intellectual property law, the single section of title 40, which provide a minimum term to granted patents that took too long to be evaluated and should be an exception provision. From those data, we have found that 75% of those patents were affected in expressive ways, for instance, 38% of them immediately expired, and 33% had their terms drastically shortened. This work also shows that only 32% of those patents were not affected by the decision of unconstitutionality of single section of title 40 of the Brazilian law. This evidences a severe impact on the ways the national pharmaceutical companies will work, especially because this change immediately open to them several opportunities to explore drugs that, until the day before the decision, were in force and now are at public domain. However, they are not prepared to innovate and it may not be able to supply the market. On the other hand, multinational companies may withdraw from the market, since that are no longer working under a monopoly. The information disclosed in this work show that it will severely affect the Brazilian pharmaceutical market from now on and draws the attention to the need of companies to be aware of all national laws regarding to the market of interest.

Higher education in India has expanded rapidly over the past two decades. This growth has been mainly driven by private sector initiatives. There are genuine concerns about many of them being substandard and exploitative. Due to the government’s ambivalence on the role of private sector in higher education, the growth has been chaotic and unplanned. The regulatory system has failed to maintain standards or check exploitation instead, it resulted in erecting formidable entry barriers that have generated underside results. Voluntary accreditation seems to have no takers from amongst private providers and apparently serves little purpose for any of its stakeholders. The higher education system in India grew rapidly after independence. [1] By 1980, there were 132 universities and 4738 colleges in the country enrolling around five percent of the eligible age group in higher education. Today, while in terms enrolment, India is the third largest higher education system in the world (after China and the USA) with 17973 institutions (348 universities and 17625 colleges) and is the largest higher education system in the world in terms of number of institutions [2] There are different types of universities and colleges in the higher education system in the country. They vary terms of their academic, administrative and financial arrangements. Universities can either be established by an Act of Parliament or by the state legislatures. Those established by the Act of Parliament are the central universities and the ones set up by the state legislatures are state universities. Some higher education institutions are granted the ‘deemed university’ status by the central government through gazette notifications. A few institutions are established by the Parliament / state legislatures as institutions of national importance. Universities, deemed universities and institutions of national importance are degree-granting institutions. The expansion of higher education system in India has been chaotic and unplanned. The drive to make higher education socially inclusive has led to a sudden and dramatic increase in numbers of institutions without a proportionate increase in material and intellectual resources. As a result, academic standards have been jeopardized. There are many basic problems facing higher education in India today. These include inadequate infrastructure and facilities, large vacancies in faculty positions and poor faculty outmoded teaching methods, declining research standards, unmotivated students, overcrowded classrooms and widespread geographic, income, gender and ethnic imbalances. There is an inadequate and diminishing financial support for higher education from the government and from society. Many colleges established in rural areas are non-viable, are under enrolled and have extremely poor infrastructure and facilities with just a few teachers. Apart from these, the system of higher education has met several setbacks with regard to its regulatory framework, finding and frances and the much debated and controversial move of privatization of higher educational institutions. These underlying issues will be identified and addressed in the paper. Keywords—Higher Education, India. Research methodology A. Aims and Objectives The objectives of this paper is to identify the major issues and problems relating to the system of higher education in India. The researcher has narrowed down the scope of this paper to three main concerns relating to higher education viz., the present regulatory framework, and privatization and funding and financing. The paper examines various arguments, cases and recommendations in highlighting the issues concerned. B. Scope and Limitations The scope of this paper is limited to the identification and study of the major issues concerning the Indian higher education system. C. Mode of Citation A uniform mode of citation is used throughout the paper. D. Sources of Data This paper is based on researched complied from numerous articles, working papers, statistical data and case laws. E. Research Questions The following questions are sought to be addressed in the course of this paper :  What are the major issues and problems affecting higher education in India ?  Why is the existing regulatory mechanism problematic for the growth and development of higher education in the country ?  How can student loans help in improving the accessibility of higher education?  How can the issues discussed in the paper be addressed to resolve the existing conflicts ? F. Chapterization The paper is divided into three broad chapters : Chapter 1: The problems with the existing regulatory framework are identified along with a discussion of the recommendations of various committee. Chapter 2: This chapter deals with the issue of privatization of higher education in India. Chapter 3: The decline in public expenditure on higher education and the inextricable link between the present regulations and funding/finances of educational institutions is examined in the last chapter. II. CONCLUSION Government regulation of higher education has been the subject of an acrimonious debate across the policy spectrum. Proponents argue that regulation is essential for delivering quality education. Without regulation, they further argue, profit maximization rather than education would be the raison deter of private education institutions. In their opinion, the abysmal quality of most private institutions-despite decades of stifling regulations-justifies more government intrusion; not private institutions-despite decades of stifling regulations-justifies more government intrusion; non less, it is perceived to be State’s responsibility to protect those who avail of higher education. The inability to incentives quality in private institutions of higher learning is the key failure of India’s education regulators. Rather than improving quality, the state’s stranglehold on higher education has created an artificial shortage leading to an acute supply-demand mismatch. The demand for higher educational institutions then the growth in number of higher educational institutions. The regulatory process is thoroughly politicized; it is well documented that most private colleges are owned by politicians or well-connected business houses. The poor quality of such institutions offers a readymade excuse to impose even stronger government regulations, notwithstanding the fact that high entry barriers-ostensibly erected to improve quality of such institutions to thrive in the first place. While the regulatory bodies seek to guard the portals of higher education, and are entrusted with the responsibility of ensuring adherence to minimum guidelines by existing institutions, however, these regulations. In their current form are simply erecting entry-barriers rather than working to remove the asymmetry. Regulation, therefore, needs to be well structured and thoroughly researched to take full account of relevance, therefore, needs to be well structured and thoroughly researched to take full account of relevance, requirement, practical constraints and market realities. The objective of encouraging growth of educational institutions rather than restricting them should not be lost sight of higher education offers a wide variety of subjects and with continuing education it needs to be demand driven. Over the last few decades, higher education has been handled casually and, for the most part, is lacking in initiative or direction. In addition to this, the process of accreditation remains a strenuous bureaucratic exercise. While the bogus or poor quality colleges are a matter of concern for every regulator, the problem in India is that University Authorities do not have a proper monitoring and surveillance system for colleges. This leads to episodes of sudden de-recognition as in the case of Chattisgarh University an a large number of affiliated colleges which was very distressing for a large number of students. Another important measure to be undertaken is that of decentralization. The purpose of decentralization is to eliminate or reduce the cumbersomeness and inefficiency, to convert high costs per unit into low costs and replace diseconomies of scale. In the absence of decentralization, the introduction of new techniques becomes meaningless as the already over expanded monolithic system does not leave any room for improvement.

Photo ID 129550055 © Katarzyna Bialasiewicz | Dreamstime.com ABSTRACT It has been 26 years since medical aid in dying (“MAiD”) was first legalized in Oregon, and today, about 20 percent of people in the US live in jurisdictions that permit MAiD. The New York State legislature is currently considering a bill that would permit Medical Aid in Dying for terminally ill patients in certain defined circumstances. Those states now benefit from decades of experience, evidence, and reporting from MAiD jurisdictions. This demonstrates that legislation can simultaneously grant terminally ill citizens the civil right to access MAiD while also aggressively protecting all patients from coercion, manipulation, and harm. Given the copious evidence gathered in the past decades, concerns about abuse can no longer be credited as grounds for opposing the passage of legislation that is demonstrably both effective and safe. INTRODUCTION It has been 26 years since medical aid in dying (“MAiD”) was first legalized in Oregon,[1] and today, about 20 percent of people in the US live in jurisdictions that permit MAiD.[2] Other jurisdictions, including New York, are actively considering adopting MAiD laws. Those states now benefit from decades of experience, evidence, and reporting from MAiD jurisdictions, demonstrating that legislation can permit MAiD while also aggressively protecting all patients from coercion, manipulation, and harm. The data should allay the concerns of those who oppose MAiD due to the risk of abuse, coercion, and a hypothetical slippery slope. We, as a society, as clinicians, and as ethicists, must remain vigilant and prevent abuse of MAiD, given the potential risks in the community and in congregate care settings and the risk of patient exploitation by family members. However, given the copious evidence, concerns about abuse do not justify opposition to legislation that is effective and safe. I. New York’s MAiD Bill The New York State legislature is currently considering a bill that would permit MAiD for terminally ill patients in defined circumstances.[3] The bill applies only to adults with a terminal illness or condition that is “incurable and irreversible” and “will, within reasonable medical judgment, produce death within six months.” The bill contains numerous protective requirements: MAiD requests can only be made by the patient themself; requests cannot be made by healthcare agents, surrogates, or anyone else; MAiD requests must be made both orally and in writing to the patient’s attending physician; No person is eligible for MAiD solely because of age or disability; The patient’s attending physician must determine the patient has a qualifying terminal illness, has decision-making capacity, and has made a voluntary, informed decision to request MAiD, in the absence of coercion; These determinations must be confirmed by a second consulting physician in writing; If the attending physician has any concern that the patient may not have decision-making capacity, the patient must be referred to a mental health professional; The attending physician has additional duties to the patient, including ensuring the decision is informed, by discussing the patient’s condition and prognosis; discussing the MAiD process, and treatment alternatives like palliative and hospice care; offering referrals to other appropriate treatment, like palliative and hospice care; and educating the patient that their request can be rescinded at any time and offering them an opportunity to do so; The written request must be witnessed by at least two adults who cannot be (i) related to the patient, (ii) entitled to any portion of the patient’s estate, (iii) employed by a healthcare facility where the patient is receiving treatment or residing, (iv) or the attending physician, consulting physician, or mental health professional determining decision-making capacity; and MAiD medication must be self-administered by the patient, and it must be voluntarily ingested.[4] ARGUMENTS FOR AND AGAINST MAiD II. No Evidence of Abuse of Existing MAiD Laws MAiD supporters and critics alike have a concern about the abuse of MAiD. For this reason, MAiD laws throughout the US incorporate strict eligibility criteria and protective procedural requirements. For instance, patients are eligible only if they are terminally ill with six months or less to live, more than one physician must be involved, and requests must be witnessed (by individuals unrelated to the patient who will not profit from the patient’s estate). MAiD requests have been closely examined in the 27 years since Oregon became the first state to legalize the practice. The results show that these compassionate and protective measures have worked. There have been no documented or substantiated incidents of MAiD abuse since Oregon became the first to implement a MAiD law in 1997.[5] In 2019, the executive director of Disability Rights Oregon (DRO), an organization mandated by federal law to investigate complaints of abuse or neglect of people with disabilities, reported that DRO has never received a complaint that a person with disabilities was coerced into obtaining a prescription for MAiD drugs.[6] A recent study of aggregated data from all nine of the US jurisdictions with publicly available MAiD records from 1998 to 2002 found that 95.6 percent of those who died by MAiD were non-Hispanic white individuals, and 53.1 percent were male.[7] 72.2 percent of these individuals had at least some college education, 74 percent had a cancer diagnosis, and the median age of MAiD death was 74 years old. Only 11 percent of patients were uninsured. MAiD users tend to be white, older, educated, diagnosed with cancer, and insured. Fears that MAiD would overwhelmingly be used by (or on) the poor, the uninsured, the uneducated, or racial and ethnic minorities have not materialized. This data has actually raised a converse concern: that MAiD may, inequitably, not be readily available to less privileged populations or those with a diagnosis other than cancer.[8] Opponents of MAiD may argue that the recent relaxation of certain legal restrictions in some jurisdictions is evidence that the slippery slope to unrestricted euthanasia has begun. This is a mischaracterization. Certain restrictions have been adjusted. For instance, Oregon and Vermont removed the residency restriction that previously excluded non-residents from eligibility.[9] Both states changed the residency requirement due to lawsuits challenging the constitutionality of requiring residence.[10] New Jersey’s law will likely change soon, as well.[11] Initial MAiD laws were drafted to be highly restrictive out of concern about unintended and unforeseeable consequences. Given the gravity of the subject, decades ago, it was better to err on the side of caution, even if that meant excluding from eligibility people who ought to, ethically or legally, be included. Now, with nearly 30 years of experience and data, we can better determine which requirements are necessary to appropriately protect patients, clinicians, and society. Restrictions proven to be unnecessary can now be modified. The core purposes of MAiD laws and the rights and protections they provide are not changing. Rather, a few aspects of the regulations are being adjusted so they are not more restrictive than necessary to achieve their purpose. The ever-growing body of evidence that MAiD laws can adequately protect against abuse and the mythic slippery slope has assured many that their fears will not materialize.[12] For example, NYU bioethicist Arthur Caplan was once a vigorous opponent of MAiD. He worried that MAiD laws would lead to the abuse of the poor, uninsured, and disabled in service of cost-saving or the convenience of others. [13] But, after closely following the empirical evidence from MAiD early-adopters, Oregon and Washington, Caplan changed his mind. In 2018, he argued in favor of the NY MAiD bill before the New York State Assembly Standing Committee on Health.[14] Discussing his review of evidence from these states, Caplan stated: I found no cause for my concerns, none with respect to the slippery slope. There isn’t solid evidence of coercion or duplicity being exercised with respect to people who choose assistance in dying in either state. The police, government officials, families of those who have chosen to use the legislation and the general citizenry find no causes or basis for changing the laws due to abuse or misapplication . . . These slippery slope arguments are just not true . . . there is no current factual support for this slippery slope argument that vulnerable individuals are at risk for being coerced into using the law.[15] Decades of evidence has shown that legislation can simultaneously grant terminally ill patients access to MAiD while also protecting against coercion and abuse. In the face of this evidence, continuing to deny access to MAiD because of hypothetical abuse is unjust and unethical. III. Views of Opponents are Neither Grounded in Fact nor Consistent with Current End-of-Life Practices a. Risk of coercion One common argument heard today from some disability advocates who oppose MAiD goes something like this: Everybody who would qualify for and use MAiD is (or will become) a disabled person, so MAiD only kills people with disabilities. The most common reasons people choose to end their lives via MAiD are disability issues, like loss of autonomy, less ability to engage in activities, and loss of dignity. They argue that, instead of making it easier for disabled people to die, we should make sure that proper services and support exist so that disabled people do not choose to die. Such disability-rights-based arguments tend to assert that to avoid abuse, we must prohibit MAiD altogether. They argue that legalizing MAiD will inexorably lead to abuse and coercion, and disabled people will be pressured into suicide. Some even argue that MAiD laws are the first step to euthanasia, noting the path in other jurisdictions.[16] As an initial matter, people with disabilities deserve adequate support and services, and these are not always available to them. People with disabilities have faced tremendous discrimination in the healthcare system and have been historically prevented from accessing proper care and asserting their autonomy. Ensuring that all can access adequate end-of-life care, like palliative or hospice care, is an ongoing battle that ought not be abandoned. But fighting for adequate end-of-life care and legalizing MAiD are not mutually exclusive. In Oregon, 90 percent of those who access MAiD are enrolled in hospice and states with MAiD laws tend to have better access to palliative care than states without.[17] MAiD proponents seek only to add another choice for the dying, not to diminish any other options. This is reflected in the text of New York’s pending bill, which explicitly requires patient education and referrals to appropriate end-of-life services, like palliative care and hospice.[18] No one has openly argued that society should hold terminally ill patients hostage in order to obtain broader support and funding for palliative care, but that is the practical effect. Beyond the need for supportive services and proper access to the full range of end-of-life care options, the disability argument fails. First, the assertion that MAiD laws will be abused and disabled people will be coerced into suicide is not grounded in fact. To the contrary, real-life evidence gathered in over two decades of legal MAiD has shown no documented or substantiated incidents of abuse, as discussed above.[19] The slippery slope has simply not materialized. Advocates for people with disabilities who are opposed to MAiD have not clearly articulated exactly who is vulnerable to being coerced into obtaining a MAiD prescription or even how such coercion could logistically occur. Most people with disabilities are not vulnerable to MAiD abuse, as they do not have a qualifying terminal illness or lack decisional capacity due to a developmental disability and are therefore not eligible. MAiD opponents appear to be claiming that all those who qualify for MAiD are vulnerable and seek protection from MAiD laws. But this would include many of the people that, over the past decades, have aggressively and publicly advocated for access to MAiD – terminally ill people, like Brittany Maynard,[20] many of whom lobbied hard for the passage of MAiD laws while knowing that they themselves would die before the laws passed. Opponents of MAiD from a segment of the disability rights community are telling individuals who they claim, without permission, as members of the MAiD opposition community, that they must all endure unimaginable suffering without a MAiD option because they must be protected from theoretical coercive harm. People with disabilities should be allowed to make their own choices. No one, not even the most well-meaning advocate, should be allowed to obstruct a patient’s end-of-life choices – those choices belong to the patient alone. b. Argument That the Demand for MAID is a Result of Poor Disability Services Second, the argument that terminally ill patients would decline MAiD if only they had better disability services or support is disingenuous to the extent that it ignores the fact that people choosing MAiD are actively dying. No provision of supportive services can change this. And it is perfectly reasonable for someone who knows that they will die in less than six months to want some control over the manner of their death and to avoid the deterioration, indignity, and suffering that could come with it. The argument construes a MAiD death as a choice to die rather than live with a disability. But individuals choosing MAiD are not choosing death – death is coming and coming quickly. MAiD simply offers some control over this reality, giving patients an option that is safe, certain, and painless. Certainly, supportive hospice services should be available for these individuals. But there is no evidence demonstrating that any amount of service would eliminate the need and desire for the MAiD option. c. Inconsistent Positions on MAID and Other Ending Life Care Options: Palliative Sedation and VSED MAiD opponents who are concerned about abuse and coercion often hold inconsistent views on other currently available ending life care options.[21] For example, some argue that palliative sedation[22] renders MAiD unnecessary and does not present the same ethical problems.[23] However, whereas MAiD can only be chosen by the patient themself (and the patient must have decision-making capacity), the same is not true for palliative sedation. Palliative sedation, a valuable modality of end-of-life care, does not have to be initiated by the patient. If the patient is deemed not to have decision-making capacity to make that decision, their healthcare proxy can decide to initiate the process and continue it until the patient dies. Individuals other than patients often choose to begin palliative sedation and continue it to its inevitable conclusion. And because palliative sedation does not require enabling legislation, none of the protective safeguards incorporated in MAiD legislation are available to protect those who receive palliative sedation. Some may try to differentiate between palliative sedation and MAiD by saying that once started, palliative sedation can always be discontinued – it need not end in the patient’s death. This is true, but the very process of palliative sedation will inevitably make the patient insensible or unconscious or otherwise unable to exercise a choice to stop sedation. With MAiD, the patient must self-administer and ingest the medication on their own, with death following quickly. The patient can choose to forgo MAID up until the very moment of self-administration. Considering MAiD’s procedural safeguards, including that only the patient may choose and administer MAiD, MAiD patients are offered more protection from potential abuse than patients who receive palliative sedation. While some have vocally opposed MAiD for decades, there has not been similar opposition to the option of voluntarily stopping eating and drinking (VSED). With VSED, adults with decision-making capacity make a voluntary decision to refuse nutrition and hydration to die more quickly. People choosing VSED are, essentially, making the same choice that people choosing MAiD do. But VSED is a less predictable process that takes much longer to complete. Unfortunately, the process also carries a risk of unpleasant side-effects, though proper care can help mitigate them. Additionally, the practice of VSED is not constrained by statutorily defined protective measures, as is the case with MAiD – one does not even need to have a terminal illness to choose VSED.[24] It is logically inconsistent for those who oppose MAiD because of the perceived potential of abuse to hold different views about VSED.[25] If malevolent actors can unethically pressure or coerce patients into MAiD, they can also coerce them to stop eating and drinking. As with palliative sedation, it could be argued that an important difference is that VSED can be stopped, unlike MAiD. This argument fails clinically and ethically. As with palliative sedation, the VSED process eventually results in the patient losing consciousness and decision-making capacity. The patient generally becomes unarousable for a period that could last for days or even weeks. For this reason, it is crucial for VSED patients to express their choice in writing (or preferably in video recording)[26] to ensure that they will not be given nutrition or hydration when they are no longer able to enforce their refusal (or if they begin asking for nutrition or hydration). Therefore, there is a period in which the patient cannot decide to end the process, just as with palliative sedation. To the extent that someone is so concerned with potential abuse of MAiD that they seek to ban it but have not expressed similar concerns with VSED, these positions are inconsistent. At a NYS Bar Association-sponsored conference on MAiD in 2019, David Hoffman asked a MAiD opponent whether, “as someone who is looking out for the interests of a segment of the disability population,” she supports palliative sedation and VSED.”[27] Kathryn Carroll, who represented the Center for Disability Rights (“CDR”), confirmed that CDR did not oppose palliative sedation and did not offer a position on VSED. She noted the subtle difference in intention: I don’t believe the Center for Disability Rights has taken issue with palliative sedation. And my understanding is that there is a key difference between palliative sedation and assisted suicide, particularly in that palliative sedation, the point is not to bring about the death of the person, but to relieve the pain that they are experiencing. And so the death is more of a side effect rather than the intended outcome.[28] During the questioning, she provided no explanation as to why the potential for abuse would be different among palliative sedation, VSED, and MAiD.[29] The other MAiD opponent on the panel, Dennis Vacco, of Vacco v. Quill[30] fame, interjected but could not explain any ethically significant difference between VSED and MAiD. Instead, he focused solely on palliative sedation, stating that the relevant difference is that palliative sedation can be stopped: . . . treating the pain including what you referred to as terminal sedation, is not moral and legally and ethnically the same as physician-assisted suicide . . . The fact of the matter is – the difference is you can terminate that treatment, and it’s the permanent aspect of physician-assisted suicide that goes back to what I said 20 minutes ago. You can’t put the bright line anyplace else other than where it is.[31] But, as discussed above, that difference is of little import, given that palliative sedation results in patients without the ability or capacity to make the choice to stop treatment. Vacco then reverted to his concerns about the potential for coercion and the elusive slippery slope, referencing his primary argument that the only way to ensure there is no abuse of a MAiD law is not to have one at all: The bright line that is created by the law in the state of New York, which makes physician-assisted suicide a manslaughter in the second-degree, or assisting suicide by anybody, manslaughter in the second degree . . . is unfortunately the only place that line can be. That line should not move further toward accommodation. And we see here in the context of . . . all of the so-called protections in the statute. With every protection that is not prohibition, with every protection, you raise the possibility of abuse. You raise the possibility with every protection.[32] Neither Vacco nor Carroll addressed the fact that many common practices today can be the result of coerced decisions. These practices have none of the safeguards contained in MAiD legislation. As another panelist, David Leven, stated: consider that people who want to have life-sustaining treatment withdrawn, whether it’s a ventilator or feeding tube, they can also be coerced by family members. That can happen even more often, of course, because that process takes place more and more often, and there are none of the safeguards that we’re talking about here . . . there are risks involved in any process which might result in a hastened death. But there seems to be very little risk involved with medical aid in dying based on the experience in 40 years and the nine states which now permit medical aid in dying.[33] There is an inescapable inconsistency within the disability argument: one cannot logically be so concerned about the abuse of legalized access to MAiD to justify opposing all MAiD legislation while simultaneously supporting options like palliative sedation or VSED as abuse-free alternatives. d. Argument Against Speaking for a Community with Diverse Views Finally, while some disability advocates opposing MAiD will claim terminally ill patients as part of their community, they have no right or authorization to speak for the extremely heterogeneous group of terminally ill patients or the disability community[34] as a whole. The disability community is not homogenous; while some members oppose MAiD, others support it.[35] Recent polling indicates that MAiD may have broad support across the disability community.[36] e. MAiD Opponents Hold the Rights of the Terminally Ill Subordinate to Their Personal Morality and Unsubstantiated Theoretical Concerns The argument that does not get much attention, the one that is the simplest and perhaps even the most compelling, is that all killing is wrong, and the government ought not to be in the business of enabling it. That is certainly a compelling religious and moral argument against individuals engaging in any form of acts that result in ending a human life. But such an ethical or theological position does not dictate that individuals who hold different views on personal morality should be precluded by the state from accessing the most safe, certain, and painless means of addressing an invariably terminal illness. Arguments like the one described above by Vacco (that the only way to completely avoid potential MAiD abuse is to prohibit MAiD) are essentially claiming that the safest thing to do is to subordinate the suffering of the terminally ill to avoid the more subtle task of balancing the interests of two different groups of New York state citizens. But surely, that is the role of the legislature every day. And we should expect no less from the legislature on this issue. The best way to ensure no one dies in car accidents is to prohibit driving. But instead of doing so, we implement safety regulations (like speed limits) to balance the right to travel with the right of everyone else not to be killed in the process. Evidence demonstrates that MAiD legislation can also strike a balance between the rights of the terminally ill and the need to prevent harm. It is not justifiable to support a blanket prohibition of MAiD. CONCLUSION Opponents of MAiD have had decades to cite problematic case studies or formulate a compelling moral argument against it that is grounded in data rather than an assertion of their personal morality. Plainly, no one on either side of the MAiD legislative discussion wants to see anyone subjected to involuntary euthanasia or coerced into MAiD as a better alternative to palliative care when such a plan of care is a viable alternative to “ending life care.” However, enough time has passed, and the risk of coercion has been given sufficient study and debate that we can now conclude, as a society, that the rights of the terminally ill and the rights of persons committed to living their best and longest life with a disability are wholly compatible. It is time for the legislature to strike the appropriate balance and give the terminally ill a well-regulated, responsible pathway to obtaining medication that can relieve their suffering in a manner that is safe, certain, and painless. - [1] Oregon’s Death with Dignity Act, Oregon Health Authority, https://www.oregon.gov/oha/ph/providerpartnerresources/evaluationresearch/deathwithdignityact/pages/index.aspx [2] Elissa Kozlov et al., Aggregating 23 Years of Data on Medical Aid in Dying in the United States, 70 Journal of the American Geriatrics Society 3040 (2022). https://doi.org/10.1111/jgs.17925 [3] Medical Aid in Dying Act, A.995-A, N.Y. St. Assemb. (2023), available at https://legislation.nysenate.gov/pdf/bills/2023/A995A; see also, Medical Aid in Dying Act, S.2445-A, N.Y. St. Senate (2023), available at https://legislation.nysenate.gov/pdf/bills/2023/S2445A. [4] Id. [5] Ronald A. Lindsay, Oregon’s Experience: Evaluating the Record, 9 The American Journal of Bioethics 19 (2009), https://doi.org/10.1080/15265160802654137; Christopher A. Riddle, Medical Aid in Dying: The Case of Disability, in New Directions in the Ethics of Assisted Suicide and Euthanasia 234 (Michael Cholbi & Jukka Varelius eds., 2nd ed. 2023), https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25315-7; Health Law Section: Duties, Rights & the Law at the End of Life (2019), NY ST. BAR ASSOC. (Nov. 8, 2019), https://nysba.org/products/health-law-section-duties-rights-the-law-at-the-end-of-life-2019/; Medical Aid in Dying: Hearing on A.2383-A Before the New York State Assembly Standing Committee on Health (2018) (testimony of Arthur Caplan), transcript available at https://nystateassembly.granicus.com/DocumentViewer.php?file=nystateassembly_bc5bd4afc9fd8b9021781bc9e35e15ae.pdf&view=1; Fact: Medical Aid in Dying Laws Work to Protect Patients. (n.d.). Compassion & Choices. Retrieved September 5, 2023, from https://compassionandchoices.org/resource/fact-medical-aid-in-dying-laws-work-to-protect-patients; Frequently Asked Questions. (2021, December 7). Death With Dignity. https://deathwithdignity.org/resources/faqs/. [6] Bob Joondeph, Letter from Disability Rights Oregon (DRO), Compassion & Choices (Feb. 14, 2019), https://www.compassionandchoices.org/docs/default-source/default-document-library/disability-rights-oregon-dwd-letter-2-14-19.pdf. [7] Elissa Kozlov et al., Aggregating 23 Years of Data on Medical Aid in Dying in the United States, 70 Journal of the American Geriatrics Society 3040 (2022). https://doi.org/10.1111/jgs.17925 [8] Id. [9] Medical Aid in Dying: Act 39: Patient Choice and Control at the End of Life, Vermont Ethics Network, https://vtethicsnetwork.org/palliative-and-end-of-life-care/medical-aid-in-dying-act-39 (last visited Sept. 21, 2023). [10] Gideonse v. Brown, No. 3:21-cv-01568-AC (D. Or.); Bluestein v. Scott, No. 2:22-cv-00160 (D. Vt.). [11] Govatos v. Murphy, No. 2:23-cv-12601(D.N.J.). [12] Medical associations, historically opponents of MAiD, have begun adopting neutral positions, reflecting changing attitudes of the medical community. E.g., California Medical Association removes opposition to physician aid in dying bill, California Medical Association (May 20, 2015), https://www.cmadocs.org/newsroom/news/view/ArticleId/27210/California-Medical-Association-removes-opposition-to-physician-aid-in-dying-bill; Board directs CMS to develop and distribute “End-of-Life Act” education to members, Colorado Medical Society (November 22, 2016), https://www.cms.org/articles/board-directs-cms-to-develop-and-distribute-end-of-life-act-education-to-me; Vermont Medical Society Policy on End-of-life-Care, Vermont Medical Society (2017), https://vtmd.org/client_media/files/vms_resolutions/2017End-of-Life-Care.pdf (last accessed Sept. 21, 2023); but see Physician-Assisted Suicide, AMA Code of Ethics, https://code-medical-ethics.ama-assn.org/ethics-opinions/physician-assisted-suicide. (5.7 provides opinion opposing MAiD; opinion 1.1.7 provides opinion on conscientious objection.); The American Medical Association could vote to change its stance on medical aid in dying, Death with Dignity (Nov. 10, 2023), https://deathwithdignity.org/news/2023/11/ama-could-vote-to-change-stance-on-maid/ (Update notes that the AMA did not change its stance from opposed to neutral at its November 2023 interim meeting in Baltimore, but referred the resolutions for further study). [13] Medical Aid in Dying: Hearing on A.2383-A Before the New York State Assembly Standing Committee on Health (2018) (testimony of Arthur Caplan), transcript available at https://nystateassembly.granicus.com/DocumentViewer.php?file=nystateassembly_bc5bd4afc9fd8b9021781bc9e35e15ae.pdf&view=1. [14] Id. [15] Id. [16] Id. (noting the laws in Netherlands, Belgium and Canada.); see also National Council on Disability, The danger of assisted suicide laws: Part of the Bioethics and Disability series (2019). https://ncd.gov/sites/default/files/NCD_Assisted_Suicide_Report_508.pdf. [17] Sean Riley & Ben Sarbey, The unexamined benefits of the expansive legalization of medical assistance-in-dying, 19 J. Bioethical Inquiry 4, 663 (2022) (citing Oregon Health Authority Center for Health Statistics, Oregon Death with Dignity Act: 2018 Data Summary (2019), https://www.oregon.gov/oha/PH/PROVIDERPARTNERRESOURCES/EVALUATIONRESEARCH/DEATHWITHDIGNITYACT/Documents/year21.pdf and R. Sean Morrison, et al., America’s care of serious illness: A state-by-state report card on access to palliative care in our nation’s hospitals, 14 J. Palliat. Med. 10, 1094–1096 (2011)). [18] Medical Aid in Dying Act, A.995-A, N.Y. St. Assembly. (2023), available at https://legislation.nysenate.gov/pdf/bills/2023/A995A [19] See also, Ben Colburn, Disability‐based Arguments against Assisted Dying Laws, 36 Bioethics 680 (2022) (cataloging research in multiple countries and concluding that “there is no evidence that assisted dying laws have a disproportionate effect on people with disabilities”). https://doi.org/10.1111/bioe.13036 [20] Eyder Peralta, As Planned, Right-To-Die Advocate Brittany Maynard Ends Her Life, NPR (Apr. 3, 2014), https://www.npr.org/sections/thetwo-way/2014/11/03/361094919/as-planned-right-to-die-advocate-brittany-maynard-ends-her-life (Activist Brittany Maynard moved to Oregon after she was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor, because her home state did not permit MAiD at the time). [21] Ending life care is defined as the final stage of the end-of-life care continuum, where the patient chooses to end their life as a means to end their suffering or unacceptable quality of life. [22] Palliative sedation is defined as “the use of medications to induce decreased or absent awareness in order to relieve otherwise intractable suffering at the end of life,” and it carries a risk of hastening death. Molly L. Olsen, Keith M. Swetz & Paul S. Mueller, Ethical Decision Making With End-of-Life Care: Palliative Sedation and Withholding or Withdrawing Life-Sustaining Treatments, 85 Mayo Clin Proc 949 (2010). https://doi.org/10.4065/mcp.2010.0201 [23] E.g. Disability Rights Toolkit for Advocacy Against Legalization of Assisted Suicide, Not Dead Yet, https://notdeadyet.org/disability-rights-toolkit-for-advocacy-against-legalization-of-assisted-suicide (last visited Dec. 8, 2023) (describing palliative sedation as “a legal solution to any remaining painful and uncomfortable deaths; one that does not raise the very serious hazards of legalizing assisted suicide”); Testimony of CDR’s Kathryn Carroll, Esq. Opposing NY Assisted Suicide Bill A2383A, Not Dead Yet (Apr. 23, 2018), https://notdeadyet.org/testimony-of-cdrs-kathryn-carroll-esq-opposing-ny-assisted-suicide-bill-a2383a. [24] Voluntarily Stopping Eating and Drinking: A Compassionate, Widely-Available Option for Hastening Death, (Timothy E. Quill et al. eds., 2021). https://doi.org/10.1093/med/9780190080730.001.0001 [25] This is not to say that MAiD and VSED are ethically identical. Different writers have articulated various reasons why MAiD and VSED are meaningfully different and meaningfully similar. Here we distinguish the potential for abuse, as this is the argument that persists among MAiD opponents, For a broader discussion on the ethics of VSED and how it compares to MAiD, see Voluntarily Stopping Eating and Drinking: A Compassionate, Widely-Available Option for Hastening Death, (Timothy E. Quill et al. eds., 2021). https://doi.org/10.1093/med/9780190080730.001.0001 [26] Id.; see also David N. Hoffman and Judy Schwarz, Can Patients Choose to Stop Eating–Even If They Have Dementia–and Can Health Care Facilities Get Paid for Taking Care of Them? Ethics and Reimbursement at the End of Life (Am. Health L. Ass’n Conf. on Long Term Care and the Law 2020). [27] Health Law Section: Duties, Rights & the Law at the End of Life (2019), NY St. Bar Assoc. (Nov. 8, 2019), https://nysba.org/products/health-law-section-duties-rights-the-law-at-the-end-of-life-2019/. [28] Id. [29] CDR still does not appear to have articulated a position on VSED. CDR is a major and vocal opponent of MAiD legislation in NY with considerable resources (they state their projected 2010 budget was approximately $29,000,000). About Us, Center for Disability Rights, https://cdrnys.org/about/. [30] Vacco v. Quill, 521 U.S. 793 (1997) (holding that there is no equal protection violation when N.Y. law criminalized assisted-suicide but permitted removal of life-support systems). [31] Health Law Section: Duties, Rights & the Law at the End of Life (2019), supra note 5. [32] Id. [33] Id. [34] Ben Colburn, Disability‐based Arguments against Assisted Dying Laws, 36 Bioethics 680 (2022) (providing evidence that “that people with disabilities, and disability rights organizations, have diverse views on the question of whether assisted dying should be legal”). https://doi.org/10.1111/bioe.13036 [35] Us for Autonomy, https://www.usforautonomy.org (last visited Sep 10, 2023); see also, Kathryn L. Tucker, Building Bridges Between the Civil Rights Movements of People with Disabilities and Those with Terminal Illness, 78 U. of Pitt. L. Rev. 329 (2017) (collecting and describing amici participation by disability advocates supporting end-of-life liberty). https://doi.org/10.5195/lawreview.2017.473 [36] E.g., USA/National Public Opinion Survey, Susquehanna Polling & Research, Inc. (Feb. 2023),https://d31hzlhk6di2h5.cloudfront.net/20230307/2e/9e/21/14/d37db7887f3f349202ae6f31/Raben_Crosstabulation_Report_2023.FINAL%20(1).pdf ).

Data becomes something of a mirror in which people see themselves reflected. (Sorapure 270)In a 2014 essay for The New Yorker, the humourist David Sedaris recounts an obsession spurred by the purchase of a Fitbit, a wearable activity-tracker that sends a celebratory “tingle” to his wrist every 10, 000 steps. He starts “stepping out” modestly but is soon working hard, steadily improving on the manufacturer’s recommended baseline. “But why?” asks Sedaris’ partner Hugh: “Why isn’t twelve thousand enough?” “Because,” I told him, “my Fitbit thinks I can do better” (n.p.).The record of daily, incidental activity that the Fitbit collects and visualises is important to Sedaris as a record of his (increasing) bodily fitness but it is also evidence in another way, a testament to virtue and a correlate of self-improvement: “The tingle feels so good,” Sedaris says, “not just as a sensation but also as a mark of accomplishment” (n.p.). Improvement is presented as both traceable and quantifiable; data and self are inextricably, though also ironically, linked. With his Fitbit, Sedaris accesses new and precise degrees of bodily information and he connects himself to a visible community of wearers. At first, Sedaris is smug and optimistic; by the time he begins “rambling” compulsively, however, and achieving his “first sixty-thousand-step day,” he has also had an epiphany: “I staggered home with my flashlight knowing that I’d advance to sixty-five thousand, and that there will be no end to it until my feet snap off at the ankles. Then it’ll just be my jagged bones stabbing into the soft ground” (n.p.). When the device finally “dies,” Sedaris experiences an immediate feeling of freedom; within five hours he has “ordered a replacement, express delivery” (n.p.).In their book Self-Tracking, Gina Neff and Dawn Nafus note that both digital technology and a turn to biomedicalisation in the broader culture have amplified the capacity and reach of quantification practices in everyday life. Wearable activity trackers, of which the Fitbit is arguably the most iconic, offer individuals the ability to track minute or previously imperceptible permutations of bodily sensation within an everyday and non-medical context. It is a technological capacity, however, thoroughly embedded in a mobilising rhetoric of “health,” a term which itself has “become a loaded word, not merely a description of a bodily state but also a euphemism for what the speaker believes is desirable” (Neff and Nafus 19). The Fitbit measures movement, but it also signals something about the wearer’s identity that is framed, in the device’s marketing at least, in positive and desirable terms as an indication of character, as a highly desirable aspect of self.In a recent discussion of new forms of online life writing, Madeline Sorapure argues that acts of interpretation and representation in relation to biometric data are “something very similar to autobiographical practice. As in autobiography, subject and object, measurer and measured, are collapsed” (270). In its capacity to track and document over time and its affective role in forming a particular experience of self, the Fitbit bears a formal resemblance to autobiographical practice and specifically to modes of serial self-representation like diaries, journals, or almanacs. The discursive context is crucial here too. Early self-trackers use the pre-formatted almanac diary or calendar to better organise their time and to account for expenditure or gain. The pocket calendar was an innovation that had mass-market appeal and its rapid circulation in the early twentieth century directly shaped diary and account-keeping habits amongst historical populations, and to this day (McCarthy). Such forms are not simply passive repositories but bear cultural ideology. As popular templates for practices of accounting, self-documentation, and affecting, pocket calendars shape what content an individual across their individual day or week is coaxed to attend to or record, and effects what might then be relegated “marginal” or less consequential in relation.How do the technological affordances of the Fitbit similarly coax and shape self-knowledge or ideas of value and worth in relation to personal experience? What kinds of formal and discursive and resonance might there be drawn between wearable personal devices like the Fitbit and historical forms of tracking self-experience, like the diary? Is a Fitbit a diary? In this discussion, I consider pre-formatted diaries, like the almanac or pocket calendar, as discursive and technological precursors or adjuncts to wearable personal trackers like the Fitbit and I explore some assertions around the kinds of subject that digital forms and modes of self-tracking and personal data might then seem to coax or imagine.Tracking SelvesSelf-tracking is a human activity, one far more interesting than the gadgets that have made it easier and far more widespread. (Neff and Nafus 2)In 1726, at the age of 20, the inventor and polymath Benjamin Franklin recorded in his journal the inception of a plan to improve his character. In a chart created to track goals of virtue and progress in character, “black marks” are literal and symbolic, denoting when he has failed to live up to his expectations—two black marks represent a particularly bad effort (Rettberg 438). At age 79, Franklin was still tracking his progress when he wrote about the project in his Autobiography:It was about this time I conceived the bold and arduous project of arriving at moral perfection. I wished to live without committing any fault at any time; I would conquer all that either natural inclination, custom, or company might lead me into. (89)Franklin’s desire to document and chronicle the self-conscious development of his character drives his interest in the form. He was as an almanac devotee and an innovative publisher of the form, which gained immense popularity at this time. Franklin added blank pages to the almanacs he helped produce in the mid eighteenth century and this addition expanded the possibilities for the kinds of data that might be recorded, particularly personal and anecdotal material. The innovation also earned the publishers a good deal more money (McCarthy 49). The mass production of printed almanacs thus had a profound effect on how individuals engaged in various kinds of daily and temporal and social regulation and documentation, including of the self:At the same time as it kept readers aware of the outside world, the almanac could also direct them to the state of their own being. Almanacs were all about regulation, inside and out. Almanacs displayed a regulated universe governed by the laws of planetary motion, by the church calendar, by the zodiac. It seemed natural, then, that some readers might turn to an almanac to regulate themselves. What better way to do that than in a text that already possessed its own system? All one had to do was insert one’s own data in that printed form, like connecting the dots. (McCarthy 53)Mass-market forms that engender habits of accounting are also cultural templates: pre-formatted journals are systems for private documentation that reflect broader cultural and social ideologies. Rebecca Connor observes that historical gender assumptions in relation to time “well-spent” are frequently visible in eighteenth-century mass-market journals explicitly aimed at women, which tended to allocate more space for “social” engagements versus, for example, financial accounting (18).In the twenty-first century, technologies like the Fitbit promise access to data in relation to personal experience but they also reveal dominant cultural and social attitudes to bodies and selves. Deborah Lupton argues that self-tracking as a phenomenon is essentially connected to specific ideological imperatives: “Underlying many accounts of self-tracking is a barely hidden discourse of morality, which takes the form of championing those who take action to improve themselves” (74). Within these influential discourses, acts of self-tracking, no less than Franklin’s virtue chart, acquire significance as moral activities and as the outward sign of good character.Neither self-tracking nor the ideology of virtue that underwrites it are new phenomena. In their cultural study of weight measurement devices, Kate Crawford, Jessa Lingl, and Tero Karpii have explored how both weight scales and wearable devices “emphasize self-knowledge and control through external measurements” (479). Similarly, Lupton has noted that, the “metrics” generated by personal self-tracking devices are “invested with significance” because “data visualisation” is “viewed as more credible and accurate by participants than the ‘subjective’ assessments of their bodily sensations” ("Personal Data" 345).In various historical cultures, objectivity about one’s self is seen as a desire (if not a fact) in relation to conscious self-examination; externalisation, through written or oral confession, is both a virtue and a discipline. While diary writing is, particularly in popular culture, often derided as an overly subjective and narcissistic mode, the diary is also framed within contexts of therapy, or spiritual development, as a possible methodology for self-improvement. For Puritans, though, the act was also understood to entail risks; recording one’s thoughts into a written journal could enable the individual to see patterns or faults in everyday behaviour, and so to identify and rectify habits of mind holding back personal spiritual development. In the twentieth century, “how-to write a diary” self-help guidebooks remediate the discourse of self-knowledge as self-improvement, and promised to refine the method, advising adherents on the kinds of writing practices that might best circumvent problems of individual bias or subjectivity (a claim of an ever-more objective methodology that reverberates to the current moment). Invariably, the more “unconscious” the diary writing practice, the greater the assumed potential for “objective” knowledge (Cardell 34).Contemporary practices of self-tracking extend the prioritisation of external, objective measurement in relation to documenting personal experience. Crawford, Lingel, and Karppi observe that “the discourse around wearable devices gives the impression of radical new technology offering precise and unambiguous physical assessment: devices that reflect back the ‘real’ state of the body” (480). The technology, of course, is not new but it is “improved.” The ideal of a better, more accurate (because externalised and so auditable by the community) self-knowledge sought by Puritans in their journals, or by Benjamin Franklin in his charts and almanacs, resurfaces in the contemporary context, in which wearables like the Fitbit assume powerful discursive status in relation to ideals of truth and objectivity and where the individual is decentred from the position of as “the most authoritative source of data about themselves” (Crawford, Lingel, and Karppi 479).Data SelvesWhat kind of selves do people develop in relation to the technology they use to record or visualise their experience? “There is no doubt,” writes Jill Walker Rettberg, in Seeing Our Selves through Technology, “that people develop ‘affective ties’ to the data they track, just as diaries, blogs, photo albums and other material archives are meaningful to those who keep them” (87). That the data is numerical, or digital, does not lessen this connection:Apps which allow us to see our data allow us to see ourselves. We look at our data doubles as we gazed into the mirror as teenagers wondering who we were and who we might be. We look at our data in much the same way as you might flick through your selfies to find the one that shows you the way you want to be seen. (Rettberg 87)Crucially, Rettberg sees data as both affective and agential and she observes that data can also be edited and shaped by the individual. Some of this practice is deliberate, taking the form of an engagement with narrative as a “story” of self that underpins the practice of writing autobiography, for example. However, the representation of self can also be more oblique. “The first writing” says Rettberg, “was developed not to record words and sentences but to keep accounts. Arguably, recording quantities of grain or other valuables can be a form of self-representation, or at least representation of what belongs to the self” (10).Like log-books or field notebooks, like calendars or almanacs—prosaic forms of daily sequential recording that are understood to prioritise information capture over self-reflection—the Fitbit is usually presented as a method for accruing and representing personal data. In contemporary digital culture, “data” is a complex and fraught term and recent debates around “big data,” which describes the capacity of machines to make connections and perform calculations that a human might not necessarily notice or be able to perform, has crystallised this. What Melissa Gregg calls the power and “spectacle” of data is an ideological pivot in digital cultures of the twenty-first century, one that turns in conjunction to discourses of evidence and authority that emerge in relation to the visual: “sharing the same root as ‘evidence,’ vision is the word that aligns truth and knowledge in different historical moments” (3).For autobiography scholars exploring how formal modes of capture might also be genres, or how a Fitbit might coax a narrative of self, these questions are formative. Sorapure says: Information graphics that visually represent personal data; collaboratively constructed and template-based self-representations in social media and networking sites; the non-narrative nature of aggregated life writing: in these and other new practices we see selves emerging and being represented through interactions with technologies. (271)In the twenty-first century, self-quantification and tracking technologies like the Fitbit are ever more present in individual spheres of everyday activity. These devices prompt behaviour, affect self-knowledge, and signal identity: I am a fit person, or trying to be, or was. A Fitbit cannot record how it feels to spend 34 minutes in the “peak zone,” but it can prompt recollection, it is a mnemonic, and it provides an account of time spent, how, and by whom. Is a Fitbit a diary? The diary in the twenty-first century is already vastly different to many of its formal historical counterparts, yet there are discursive resonances. The Fitbit is a diary if we think of a diary as a chronological record of data, which it can be. However, contemporary uses of the diary, just like their historical antecedents, are also far more diverse and complex than this.Crucially, the Fitbit, like the diary, signals identity in relation to experience and so it reflects various and shifting cultural values or anxieties over what is worth measuring or documenting, and conversely, over what is not. “The private diary,” as Lejeune asserts, is a way of life: “the text itself is a mere by-product, a residue” (31). Historical diary keeping practices unfold from and emerge within cultures that position self-expression and its documentation of this as a means to self-improvement. Seeing the Fitbit within this tradition draws attention to the discursive ideology behind self-tracking as a personal practice that nonetheless positions itself in relation to cultural norms and to ideals (such as health, or fitness, or conscientiousness, or goodness).ConclusionWhat kind of self-representation is produced by practices of self-quantification, where personal data is amassed continuously and contiguously to individual experience? The legacy of centuries of historical diary-practice has been evident to various scholars exploring the cultures of self-tracking that are evolving in response to wearable technologies like the Fitbit. In her book length study of self-tracking cultures, The Quantified Self, Lupton observes that “self-tracking tools” are inevitably “biographical and personal” and that “contemporary self-tracking tools and records are the latter-day versions of the paper diary or journal, photo album, keepsake and memento box or personal dossier” (73). While, in Self-Tracking, Neff and Nafus argue that new technologies “intersect with the way that people have self-tracked for centuries like keeping diaries or logs. The growth of these digital traces raises new questions about this old practice” (2).What does it mean to think of wearable technology like Fitbits in relation to diaries, and what are the implications of such a conception? Privacy settings allow the Fitbit to comply with popular stereotypes of diaries that exist in popular culture; that is, as a locked or secret record. However, in the case of wearable technology the content is in the form of data. While data often poses as neutral and objective information, seeing this instead as diaristic can draw valuable attention to dominant cultural ideals that shape value in relation to self and technology in the twenty-first century. Crucially, “while self-knowledge may be the rhetoric of wearable device advertising, it is just as much a technology of being known by others” (Crawford, Lingel, and Karppi 493-494).Is my Fitbit a diary? It tracks my body’s movements and gestures and reports them to the conscious self. It stores chronologically accumulated data over time. It enables self-reflection and the visualisation of a set of daily habits, and it may produce or coax new behaviour. Diaries have long performed this function: tracking, recording and, documenting for making sense of later, on reflection, or after enough time has passed. Contemporary advances in technology related to self-tracking and personal data collection make possible a new range of previously unimaginable information in relation to individual experience. However, the diary’s cultural status as a “confessional” form intersects with exigencies around “health” and “self-improvement” that corporations producing devices like Fitbit promote to their customers in ways that will demand further attention.ReferencesCardell, Kylie. Dear World: Contemporary Uses of the Diary. Wisconsin UP, 2014.Connor, Rebecca Elisabeth. Women, Accounting and Narrative: Keeping Books in Eighteenth-Century England. London: Routledge, 2011.Crawford, Kate, Jessa Lingel, and Tero Karppi. “Our Metrics, Ourselves: A Hundred Years of Self-Tracking From the Weight Scale to the Wrist Wearable Device.” European Journal of Cultural Studies 18.4-5 (2015): 470-96.Franklin, Benjamin. The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin: The Complete Illustrated History. Minneapolis: MN Voyageur Press, 2016.Gregg, Melissa. “Inside the Data Spectacle.” Television & New Media 16.1 (2014): 1-15.Lejeune, Philippe. On Diary. Eds. Jeremy D. Popkin and Julie Rak. Trans. Katherine Durnin. Honolulu: U of Hawai’i P, 2009.Lupton, Deborah. “Personal Data Practices in the Age of Lively Data.” Digital Sociologies. Eds. Jessie Daniels, Tressie McMillan Cottom, and Karen Gregory. Bristol: Policy P, 2016. 339-54.———. The Quantified Self. Cambridge: Polity, 2016.McCarthy, Molly A. The Accidental Diarist: A History of the Daily Planner in America. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 2013.Neff, Gina, and Dawn Nafus. Self-Tracking. Cambridge: The MIT P, 2016.Rettberg, Jill Walker. Seeing Our Selves through Technology: How We Use Selfies, Blogs and Wearable Technology to Shape Ourselves. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014.———. “Self-Representation in Social Media.” The Sage Handbook of Social Media, Eds. Jean Burgess, Alice E. Marwick, and Thomas Poell. London: Sage, 2017. 429-43.Sedaris, David. “Stepping Out.” The New Yorker 30 Jun. 2014. 18 Apr. 2018 <https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2014/06/30/stepping-out-3>.Sorapure, Madeleine. “Autobiography Scholarship 2.0?: Understanding New Forms of Online Life Writing.” Biography 38.2 (2015): 267-72.

PurposeAll those effluent streams having compromised characteristics pose negative effects on the environment either directly or indirectly. Health care facilities and hospitals also generate a large amount of effluent like other industries containing harmful and toxic pharmaceutical residual compounds due to uncontrolled use of drugs, besides others. The occurrence of antibiotic in the environment is of utmost concern due to development of resistant genes. These get mixed up with ground and surface water due to lack of proper treatment of hospital wastewater. The effect of pharmaceutical compounds on human society and ecosystem as a whole is quite obvious. There are no strict laws regarding discharge of hospital effluent in many countries. Contrary to this, the authors do not have appropriate treatment facilities and solution to solve day by day increasing complexity of this problem. Moreover, water discharged from different health facilities having variable concentration often gets mixed with municipal sewage, thus remains partially untreated even after passing from conventional treatment plants. The purpose of this paper is to highlight the occurrences and fate of such harmful compounds, need of proper effluent management system as well as conventionally adopted treatment technologies nowadays all around the globe. This mini-review would introduce the subject, the need of the study, the motivation for the study, aim, objectives of the research and methodology to be adopted for such a study.Design/methodology/approachHospital effluents consisting of pathogens, fecal coliforms, Escherichia coli, etc, including phenols, detergents, toxic elements like cyanide and heavy metals such as copper (Cu), iron (Fe), gadolinium (Gd), nickel (Ni), platinum (Pt), among others are commonly detected nowadays. These unwanted compounds along with emerging pollutants are generally not being regulated before getting discharged caused and spread of diseases. Various chemical and biological characteristics of hospital effluents are assessed keeping in the view the threat posed to ecosystem. Several research studies have been done and few are ongoing to explore the different characteristics and compositions of these effluent streams in comparison so as to suggest the suitable conventional treatment techniques and ways to manage the problem. Several antibiotic groups such as ciprofloxacin, ofloxacin, sulfa pyridine, trimethoprim, metronidazole and their metabolites are reported in higher concentration in hospital effluent. The aquatic system also receives a high concentration of pharmaceutical residues more than 14,000 μg/L from treatment plants also and other surface water or even drinking water in Indian cities. Many rivers in southern parts of India receives treated water have detected high concentration drugs and its metabolites. As far as global constraints that need to be discussed, there are only selected pharmaceuticals compounds generally analyzed, issue regarding management and detection based on method of sampling, frequency of analysis and observation, spatial as well as temporal concentration of these concerned micropollutants, accuracy in detecting these compounds, reliability of results and predictions, prioritization and the method of treatment in use for such type of wastewater stream. The complexity of management and treatment as well need to be addressed with following issues at priority: composition and characterization of effluent, compatible and efficient treatment technology that needs to be adopted and the environment risk posed by them. The problem of drugs and its residues was not seen to be reported in latter part of 20th century, but it might be reported locally in some part of globe. This paper covers some aspect about the disposal and regulatory standard around the world toward hospital effluent discharge, its managements and treatment technologies that are adopted and best suitable nowadays various industries and monitoring the efficiencies of existing treatment systems. This mini-review would introduce the subject, the need, the motivation and objectives of the study and methodology can be adopted for such a study.FindingsThe compiled review gives a complete view about the types of antibiotics used in different health care facilities, their residue formation, occurrences in different ecosystems, types of regulations or laws available in different counties related to disposal, different type of treatment technologies, innovative combined treatment schemes and future action needed to tackle such type of effluent after its generation. The thesis also highlights the use of certain innovative materials use for the treatment like nanoparticles. It also discusses about the residues impact on the human health as well as their bioaccumulative nature. If the authors relate the past to the current scenario of pharmaceutical compounds (PhACs) in the environment, the authors will certainly notice that many diseases are nowadays not curable by simple previously prescribed Ab. Many research projects have been done in European countries that have shown the risk of such residues like Pills, Sibell, Poseidon, No pills, Neptune, Knappe, Endetech, etc. In the previous section, it was mentioned that there are no stringent laws for hospital wastewater and in many countries, they are mixed with domestic wastewater. Many difficulties are there with this research due to complex analysis, detection of targeted Ab, affecting waterbodies rate of flow, nature of treatment varies with season to season. The way nature is being degraded and harmful effect are being imposed, it is important to take immediate and decisive steps in this area. Wastewater treatment plants (WWTPs) serves as a nursery for antibiotic-resistant systems, hence monitoring with great attention is also needed. Many trials with different treatment process, in combination, were considered. Many countries are paying great attention to this topic by considering the severity of the risk involved in it.Research limitations/implicationsPrevious studies by several scientists show that the pharmaceutical residues in the discharged effluent displayed direct toxic effects, and sometimes, detrimental effects in the mixture were also observed. The discharge of untreated effluent from hospitals and pharmaceuticals and personal care products in the natural ecosystem poses a significant threat to human beings. The pharmaceuticals, like antibiotics, in the aquatic environment, accelerate the development of the antibiotic-resistant genes in bacteria, which causes fatal health risks to animals and human beings. Others, like analgesics, are known to affect development in fishes. They also degrade the water quality and may lead to DNA damage, toxicity in lower organisms like daphnia and have the potential to bioaccumulate. A few commonly used nanoadsorbents for water and wastewater treatment along with their specific properties can also be used. The main advantages of them are high adsorption capacity and superior efficiency, their high reusability, synthesis at room temperatures, super magnetism, quantum confinement effect as well as eco-toxicity. This review will focus on the applicability of different nanoscale materials and their uses in treating wastewater polluted by organic and inorganic compounds, heavy metals, bacteria and viruses. Moreover, the use of various nanoadsorbents and nano-based filtration membranes is also examined.Practical implicationsA number of different pharmaceutical residues derived from various activities like production facilities, domestic use and hospitals have been reported earlier to be present in groundwater, effluents and rivers, they include antibiotics, psycho-actives, analgesics, illicit drugs, antihistamine, etc. In past few years environmental scientists are more concerned toward the effluents generated from medical care facilities, community health centers and hospitals. Various chemical and biological characteristics of hospital effluents have been assessed keeping in the view the common threats pose by them to the entire ecosystem. In this study, seven multispecialty hospitals with nonidentical pretreatment were selected for three aspects i.e. conventional wastewater characteristics, high priority pharmaceuticals and microbial analyses. The present work is to evaluate efficacy of advanced wastewater treatment methods with regard to removal of these three aspects from hospital effluents before discharge into a sewage treatment plant (STP). Based on test results, two out of seven treatment technologies, i.e. MBR and CW effectively reducing conventional parameters and pharmaceuticals from secondary and tertiary treatments except regeneration of microbes were observed in tertiary level by these two treatments.Social implicationsThis review has aimed to identify the emerging contaminants, including pharmaceutical residues, highly consumed chemicals that are present in the hospital effluent, along with their physicochemical and biological characteristics. In this, the main objective was to review the occurrences and fate of common drugs and antibiotics present in effluents from hospital wastewaters. As far as global constraints that need to be discussed, there are only selected pharmaceuticals compounds generally analyzed, issue regarding management and detection based on method of sampling, frequency of analysis and observation, spatial as well as temporal concentration of these concerned micropollutants, accuracy in detecting these compounds, reliability of results and predictions, prioritization and the method of treatment in use for such type of wastewater stream are among the major issues (Akter et al., 2012; Ashfaq et al., 2016; García-Mateos et al., 2015; Liu et al., 2014; Mubedi et al., 2013; Prabhasankar et al., 2016; Sun et al., 2016; Suriyanon et al., 2015; Wang et al., 2016; Wen et al., 2004). This paper covers some aspect about the disposal and regulatory standard around the world toward hospital effluent discharge, its managements and treatment technologies that are adopted and best suitable nowadays.Originality/valueThis study many multispecialty hospitals with nonidentical pretreatment were selected for three aspects i.e. conventional wastewater characteristics high priority pharmaceuticals and microbial analyses. The present work is to evaluate efficacy of advanced wastewater treatment methods with regard to removal of these three aspects from hospital effluents before discharge into an STP. Based on test results, two out of different treatment effectively reducing conventional parameters and pharmaceuticals from secondary and tertiary treatments except regeneration of microbes were observed in the tertiary level by these two treatments were studies followed by ozonation and ultraviolet-ray treatment.

Machinofacture, computer control and globalisation have created the appearance that in the relation between humanity and the machine the human possesses ever-deepening power. However, this is a very Whiggish view of the history of science and technology as a field of ever-expanding knowledge. History is littered with examples of technologies which have been abandoned as out-dated, then later attempts to revive them have failed because the expertise has been lost. Technology is not merely a reflection of human needs, but an embodiment of the human condition. Machines can be seen as products of their creator, but in the case of long-lived machines they can out-live their creator whilst embodying some of their expertise and their failings. If there is a human need for that lost experience contained within the machine, then there is a form of remote power exercised through the machine. Although the machine can be owned, and the owner 'controls' the machine, it is not a deity-subject (uni-directional) relation; the machine may fail -- because the master does not understand the processes of the machine, there is no way to enforce the power of ownership. This potential for control loss has resonances with the 'Frankenstein syndrome' where the fear is that humanity could unleash something beyond its control. This fear has found recent expression in the debate about genetically-modified (GM) foods in Europe, taking place not over the results of scientific tests; indeed the debate precedes those tests and concerns the effects of releasing them from the direct (space-time) control by humans in laboratories. Frankenstein's monster and GM-foods share the common trait that both are organic, and it makes more sense that a sentient or at least living object could upset the human-object power relation. The inanimate analogue of this (e.g. the golem of Jewish folklore) has a much weaker hold over popular consciousnesses. Asimov 'built' his robots with the laws of robotics to prevent upsetting the hegemony of human over machine. Even huge advances recently in computing power, neural networks and artificial intelligence have come nowhere near producing an Asimov robot with the freedom to have and exercise power over humanity. However, there are other more mundane and diffuse ways that machines can have power over humans. The company Joyce-Loebl, based in the North East of England, from the 1950s to the 1970s built thousands of microdensitometers, and through the effort of its sales teams sold them all over the world. The company was like a family; little was done in the way of formal drawings -- even the machinists were highly skilled and exercised great initiative; the 'secrets' of the machine were passed through incredibly elaborate apprenticeships, and were diffused into many individuals in a range of trades. The machine's inventor described it in correspondence thus: "many scientific measurements result in a series of darkened bars similar to a barcode. To interpret these bars it is necessary to measure their density. The microdensitometer does this by balancing the signal from the bars with light passing through an optical wedge. This balancing technique gives great accuracy". These machines did not embody absolute power of humans over machines; they came about only because the highly place-specific and combined efforts of a number of highly-skilled complementary craftsmen. At a time when the region was said to be "good for the nearest inch" (i.e. good at shipbuilding) the company made instruments that were "good to the nearest thousandth [of an inch]" (i.e. as precise as clockwork). Loebl, in his forthcoming memoirs, relates a number of examples where the microdensitometer conferred the power to influence human life even when it was notionally under anthropological control. It found a crashed moon probe from a lunar satellite photograph when all other analyses had failed, and allowed him, as a one-time refugee from the Nazis, to snub the apartheid regime by refusing to sell machines to South African firms. More palpably, it disproved the evidence in a murder appeal where the machine 'proved' that the rope submitted as evidence could not have produced the marks on the neck of the strangulated wife (legal power). Although the machine required an operator to use, in common with many technologies today, there is a separation between the knowledge necessary to manufacture the microdensitometer, and that required to make it carry out it designated functions. It appeared for a time as if microdensitometers were a commodity to be bought and sold; humans controlled them absolutely through determining where they were located. The appearance of absolute control only arose out of a particular techno-economic configuration particular to the 1960s, dependent on the mass-production and mass marketing of the machine. When this configuration disintegrated, so the balance of power shifted towards the machine. Joyce-Loebl broke up in the 1980s; technologies moved towards analytic software rather than electro-mechanical measurement; the skills of craftsmen were lost; the instrument teams drifted. Electronic instrument standardisation and the effects of the PC on software seemed to spell the end for analogue hardware. However, the microdensitometer remains the most precise instrument for the measurement of grey scale on photograph emulsions, yet the skills to produce microdensitometers have been lost. The Soviets tried for over a decade to reverse engineer the machine, even copying faults in a screw thread, but the machine steadfastly 'refused' to be copied, and the imitation would not work (geopolitical power). One film-manufacturing multi-national firm has paid thousands of pounds for the refurbishment of one such device from the 1970s (commercial power). The device is still in use in scientific, medical and engineering installations world-wide (technical power). Joyce-Loebl broke up in the 1980s; technologies moved towards analytic software rather than electro-mechanical measurement; the skills of craftsmen were lost; the instrument teams drifted. Electronic instrument standardisation and the effects of the PC on software seemed to spell the end for analogue hardware. However, the microdensitometer remains the most precise instrument for the measurement of grey scale on photograph emulsions, yet the skills to produce microdensitometers have been lost. The Soviets tried for over a decade to reverse engineer the machine, even copying faults in a screw thread, but the machine steadfastly 'refused' to be copied, and the imitation would not work (geopolitical power). One film-manufacturing multi-national firm has paid thousands of pounds for the refurbishment of one such device from the 1970s (commercial power). The device is still in use in scientific, medical and engineering installations world-wide (technical power). Value is not identical to power, but arises in the independence the machines have as bearers of the skills of their creators. It is not just the skill embodied in those machines, but the machines arise because of the particular contingency of their creation. Although design conventions can exist, machines are purposively designed and manufactured, the outcomes of these processes affecting their final state. The machine is not just the creature its maker desires, but like Frankenstein's Monster, emerges from a struggle to shape the raw materials to the designer's ends, and records that struggle for posterity. In the case of the micro-densitometer, understanding the reasons for the precise arrangement of the various optics, mechanisms, metal and electronics is impossible. However, in the machine lies a series of messages about the context of the creation of the machine. The North East of England is a declining industrial region; the machine can be read as a recipe for creating material success in a high-technology industry in the North East even given the absence of contemporary activity -- 'assemble a range of disparate craft skills, make a branded product, sell globally, find new avenues for your skill base'. Mythology has served a similar purpose in a number of ancient civilisations. To westerners raised on an abstract, Kiplingesque diet of 'native tales' providing neat explanations of natural phenomena, these myths might appear pointless, but even today, in their context of a particular location, contain highly encoded cultural information for survival and edification (e.g. Australian Aboriginal peoples). The power of these myths provided access to extensive micro-zoological and anthropological observation and understanding without necessarily understanding why. The Joyce-Loebl microdensitometer came out of particular situation in the economy of the North East of England which has materially all but vanished. Messrs. Joyce and Loebl built a company making branded equipment selling worldwide, in a way that was and is supposed to be impossible for a heavy industrial region, whose cultural traits of the industrial structure are supposed to endure in the communitarian and anti-entrepreneurial aspirations of the working classes. However, the microdensitometer challenges the notion that the North East was only a centre of heavy industry, but was once somewhere where instruments of beauty and purpose were fashioned and sold. The Joyce-Loebl microdensitometer came out of particular situation in the economy of the North East of England which has materially all but vanished. Messrs. Joyce and Loebl built a company making branded equipment selling worldwide, in a way that was and is supposed to be impossible for a heavy industrial region, whose cultural traits of the industrial structure are supposed to endure in the communitarian and anti-entrepreneurial aspirations of the working classes. However, the microdensitometer challenges the notion that the North East was only a centre of heavy industry, but was once somewhere where instruments of beauty and purpose were fashioned and sold. Just as the Story of the Dreaming explains that "storytelling, while explaining the past, helps young Indigenous Australians maintain dignity and self-respect in the present", there is a modern role for past machines in helping the inhabitants of declining industrial regions maintain their dignity and sustain themselves economically into the future. Much of the debate about industrial renewal in the UK has recently focussed around the notion of the knowledge economy in the abstract form; the microdensitometer is the embodiment of how a knowledge economy can be created. This suggests three potential ways of understanding a machine beyond the delivery of a piece of technological functionality within a production paradigm. A machine can at once have and exercise technological, political and cultural power when the constraints of its control are removed. This brings us back to the starting point of the article, the idea of the Frankenstein monster, who demonstrated a highly spectacular specific physical power; in a modern(-ist?) reality, the power of many 'rogue machines' (those beyond tight contextual control) is entirely more mundane, diffuse and abstract, yet represents a real influence on life experiences in the modern world. Citation reference for this article MLA style: Paul Benneworth. "The Machine as Mythology -- The Case of the Joyce-Loebl Microdensitometer." M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 2.6 (1999). [your date of access] <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9909/micro.php>. Chicago style: Paul Benneworth, "The Machine as Mythology -- The Case of the Joyce-Loebl Microdensitometer," M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 2, no. 6 (1999), <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9909/micro.php> ([your date of access]). APA style: Paul Benneworth. (1999) The machine as mythology -- the case of the Joyce-Loebl microdensitometer. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 2(6). <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9909/micro.php> ([your date of access]).

In Australia the “intimacy” of citizenship (Berlant 2), is often used to reinforce subscription to heteronormative romantic and familial structures. Because this framing promotes discourses of moral failure, recent political attention to sexuality and same-sex couples can be filtered through insights into coalitional affiliations. This paper uses contemporary shifts in Australian politics and culture to think through the concept of coalition, and in particular to analyse connections between sexuality and governmentality (or more specifically normative bias and same-sex relationships) in what I’m calling post-coalitional Australia. Against the unpredictability of changing parties and governments, allegiances and alliances, this paper suggests the continuing adherence to a heteronormatively arranged public sphere. After the current Australian Prime Minister Julia Gillard deposed the previous leader, Kevin Rudd, she clung to power with the help of independents and the Greens, and clichés of a “rainbow coalition” and a “new paradigm” were invoked to describe the confused electorate and governmental configuration. Yet in 2007, a less confused Australia decisively threw out the Howard–led Liberal and National Party coalition government after eleven years, in favour of Rudd’s own rainbow coalition: a seemingly invigorated party focussed on gender equity, Indigenous Australians, multi-cultural visibility, workplace relations, Austral-Asian relations, humane refugee processing, the environment, and the rights and obligations of same-sex couples. A post-coalitional Australia invokes something akin to “aftermath culture” (Lambert and Simpson), referring not just to Rudd’s fall or Howard’s election loss, but to the broader shifting contexts within which most Australian citizens live, and within which they make sense of the terms “Australia” and “Australian”. Contemporary Australia is marked everywhere by cracks in coalitions and shifts in allegiances and belief systems – the Coalition of the Willing falling apart, the coalition government crushed by defeat, deposed leaders, and unlikely political shifts and (re)alignments in the face of a hung parliament and renewed pushes toward moral and cultural change. These breakdowns in allegiances are followed by swift symbolically charged manoeuvres. Gillard moved quickly to repair relations with mining companies damaged by Rudd’s plans for a mining tax and to water down frustration with the lack of a sustainable Emissions Trading Scheme. And one of the first things Kevin Rudd did as Prime Minister was to change the fittings and furnishings in the Prime Ministerial office, of which Wright observed that “Mr Howard is gone and Prime Minister Kevin Rudd has moved in, the Parliament House bureaucracy has ensured all signs of the old-style gentlemen's club… have been banished” (The Age, 5 Dec. 2007). Some of these signs were soon replaced by Ms. Gillard herself, who filled the office in turn with memorabilia from her beloved Footscray, an Australian Rules football team. In post-coalitional Australia the exile of the old Menzies’ desk and a pair of Chesterfield sofas works alongside the withdrawal of troops from Iraq and renewed pledges for military presence in Afghanistan, apologising to stolen generations of Indigenous Australians, the first female Governor General, deputy Prime Minister and then Prime Minister (the last two both Gillard), the repealing of disadvantageous workplace reform, a focus on climate change and global warming (with limited success as stated), a public, mandatory paid maternity leave scheme, changes to the processing and visas of refugees, and the amendments to more than one hundred laws that discriminate against same sex couples by the pre-Gillard, Rudd-led Labor government. The context for these changes was encapsulated in an announcement from Rudd, made in March 2008: Our core organising principle as a Government is equality of opportunity. And advancing people and their opportunities in life, we are a Government which prides itself on being blind to gender, blind to economic background, blind to social background, blind to race, blind to sexuality. (Rudd, “International”) Noting the political possibilities and the political convenience of blindness, this paper navigates the confusing context of post-coalitional Australia, whilst proffering an understanding of some of the cultural forces at work in this age of shifting and unstable alliances. I begin by interrogating the coalitional impulse post 9/11. I do this by connecting public coalitional shifts to the steady withdrawal of support for John Howard’s coalition, and movement away from George Bush’s Coalition of the Willing and the War on Terror. I then draw out a relationship between the rise and fall of such affiliations and recent shifts within government policy affecting same-sex couples, from former Prime Minister Howard’s amendments to The Marriage Act 1961 to the Rudd-Gillard administration’s attention to the discrimination in many Australian laws. Sexual Citizenship and Coalitions Rights and entitlements have always been constructed and managed in ways that live out understandings of biopower and social death (Foucault History; Discipline). The disciplining of bodies, identities and pleasures is so deeply entrenched in government and law that any non-normative claim to rights requires the negotiation of existing structures. Sexual citizenship destabilises the post-coalitional paradigm of Australian politics (one of “equal opportunity” and consensus) by foregrounding the normative biases that similarly transcend partisan politics. Sexual citizenship has been well excavated in critical work from Evans, Berlant, Weeks, Richardson, and Bell and Binnie’s The Sexual Citizen which argues that “many of the current modes of the political articulation of sexual citizenship are marked by compromise; this is inherent in the very notion itself… the twinning of rights with responsibilities in the logic of citizenship is another way of expressing compromise… Every entitlement is freighted with a duty” (2-3). This logic extends to political and economic contexts, where “natural” coalition refers primarily to parties, and in particular those “who have powerful shared interests… make highly valuable trades, or who, as a unit, can extract significant value from others without much risk of being split” (Lax and Sebinius 158). Though the term is always in some way politicised, it need not refer only to partisan, multiparty or multilateral configurations. The subscription to the norms (or normativity) of a certain familial, social, religious, ethnic, or leisure groups is clearly coalitional (as in a home or a front, a club or a team, a committee or a congregation). Although coalition is interrogated in political and social sciences, it is examined frequently in mathematical game theory and behavioural psychology. In the former, as in Axelrod’s The Evolution of Cooperation, it refers to people (or players) who collaborate to successfully pursue their own self-interests, often in the absence of central authority. In behavioural psychology the focus is on group formations and their attendant strategies, biases and discriminations. Experimental psychologists have found “categorizing individuals into two social groups predisposes humans to discriminate… against the outgroup in both allocation of resources and evaluation of conduct” (Kurzban, Tooby and Cosmides 15387). The actions of social organisation (and not unseen individual, supposedly innate impulses) reflect the cultural norms in coalitional attachments – evidenced by the relationship between resources and conduct that unquestioningly grants and protects the rights and entitlements of the larger, heteronormatively aligned “ingroup”. Terror Management Particular attention has been paid to coalitional formations and discriminatory practices in America and the West since September 11, 2001. Terror Management Theory or TMT (Greenberg, Pyszczynski and Solomon) has been the main framework used to explain the post-9/11 reassertion of large group identities along ideological, religious, ethnic and violently nationalistic lines. Psychologists have used “death-related stimuli” to explain coalitional mentalities within the recent contexts of globalised terror. The fear of death that results in discriminatory excesses is referred to as “mortality salience”, with respect to the highly visible aspects of terror that expose people to the possibility of their own death or suffering. Naverette and Fessler find “participants… asked to contemplate their own deaths exhibit increases in positive evaluations of people whose attitudes and values are similar to their own, and derogation of those holding dissimilar views” (299). It was within the climate of post 9/11 “mortality salience” that then Prime Minister John Howard set out to change The Marriage Act 1961 and the Family Law Act 1975. In 2004, the Government modified the Marriage Act to eliminate flexibility with respect to the definition of marriage. Agitation for gay marriage was not as noticeable in Australia as it was in the U.S where Bush publicly rejected it, and the UK where the Civil Union Act 2004 had just been passed. Following Bush, Howard’s “queer moral panic” seemed the perfect decoy for the increased scrutiny of Australia’s involvement in the Iraq war. Howard’s changes included outlawing adoption for same-sex couples, and no recognition for legal same-sex marriages performed in other countries. The centrepiece was the wording of The Marriage Amendment Act 2004, with marriage now defined as a union “between a man and a woman to the exclusion of all others”. The legislation was referred to by the Australian Greens Senator Bob Brown as “hateful”, “the marriage discrimination act” and the “straight Australia policy” (Commonwealth 26556). The Labor Party, in opposition, allowed the changes to pass (in spite of vocal protests from one member) by concluding the legal status of same-sex relations was in no way affected, seemingly missing (in addition to the obvious symbolic and physical discrimination) the equation of same-sex recognition with terror, terrorism and death. Non-normative sexual citizenship was deployed as yet another form of “mortality salience”, made explicit in Howard’s description of the changes as necessary in protecting the sanctity of the “bedrock institution” of marriage and, wait for it, “providing for the survival of the species” (Knight, 5 Aug. 2003). So two things seem to be happening here: the first is that when confronted with the possibility of their own death (either through terrorism or gay marriage) people value those who are most like them, joining to devalue those who aren’t; the second is that the worldview (the larger religious, political, social perspectives to which people subscribe) becomes protection from the potential death that terror/queerness represents. Coalition of the (Un)willing Yet, if contemporary coalitions are formed through fear of death or species survival, how, for example, might these explain the various forms of risk-taking behaviours exhibited within Western democracies targeted by such terrors? Navarette and Fessler (309) argue that “affiliation defences are triggered by a wider variety of threats” than “existential anxiety” and that worldviews are “in turn are reliant on ‘normative conformity’” (308) or “normative bias” for social benefits and social inclusions, because “a normative orientation” demonstrates allegiance to the ingroup (308-9). Coalitions are founded in conformity to particular sets of norms, values, codes or belief systems. They are responses to adaptive challenges, particularly since September 11, not simply to death but more broadly to change. In troubled times, coalitions restore a shared sense of predictability. In Howard’s case, he seemed to say, “the War in Iraq is tricky but we have a bigger (same-sex) threat to deal with right now. So trust me on both fronts”. Coalitional change as reflective of adaptive responses thus serves the critical location of subsequent shifts in public support. Before and since September 11 Australians were beginning to distinguish between moderation and extremism, between Christian fundamentalism and productive forms of nationalism. Howard’s unwavering commitment to the American-led war in Iraq saw Australia become a member of another coalition: the Coalition of the Willing, a post 1990s term used to describe militaristic or humanitarian interventions in certain parts of the world by groups of countries. Howard (in Pauly and Lansford 70) committed Australia to America’s fight but also to “civilization's fight… of all who believe in progress and pluralism, tolerance and freedom”. Although Bush claimed an international balance of power and influence within the coalition (94), some countries refused to participate, many quickly withdrew, and many who signed did not even have troops. In Australia, the war was never particularly popular. In 2003, forty-two legal experts found the war contravened International Law as well as United Nations and Geneva conventions (Sydney Morning Herald 26 Feb. 2003). After the immeasurable loss of Iraqi life, and as the bodies of young American soldiers (and the occasional non-American) began to pile up, the official term “coalition of the willing” was quietly abandoned by the White House in January of 2005, replaced by a “smaller roster of 28 countries with troops in Iraq” (ABC News Online 22 Jan. 2005). The coalition and its larger war on terror placed John Howard within the context of coalitional confusion, that when combined with the domestic effects of economic and social policy, proved politically fatal. The problem was the unclear constitution of available coalitional configurations. Howard’s continued support of Bush and the war in Iraq compounded with rising interest rates, industrial relations reform and a seriously uncool approach to the environment and social inclusion, to shift perceptions of him from father of the nation to dangerous, dithery and disconnected old man. Post-Coalitional Change In contrast, before being elected Kevin Rudd sought to reframe Australian coalitional relationships. In 2006, he positions the Australian-United States alliance outside of the notion of military action and Western territorial integrity. In Rudd-speak the Howard-Bush-Blair “coalition of the willing” becomes F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “willingness of the heart”. The term coalition was replaced by terms such as dialogue and affiliation (Rudd, “Friends”). Since the 2007 election, Rudd moved quickly to distance himself from the agenda of the coalition government that preceded him, proposing changes in the spirit of “blindness” toward marginality and sexuality. “Fix-it-all” Rudd as he was christened (Sydney Morning Herald 29 Sep. 2008) and his Labor government began to confront the legacies of colonial history, industrial relations, refugee detention and climate change – by apologising to Aboriginal people, timetabling the withdrawal from Iraq, abolishing the employee bargaining system Workchoices, giving instant visas and lessening detention time for refugees, and signing the Kyoto Protocol agreeing (at least in principle) to reduce green house gas emissions. As stated earlier, post-coalitional Australia is not simply talking about sudden change but an extension and a confusion of what has gone on before (so that the term resembles postcolonial, poststructural and postmodern because it carries the practices and effects of the original term within it). The post-coalitional is still coalitional to the extent that we must ask: what remains the same in the midst of such visible changes? An American focus in international affairs, a Christian platform for social policy, an absence of financial compensation for the Aboriginal Australians who received such an eloquent apology, the lack of coherent and productive outcomes in the areas of asylum and climate change, and an impenetrable resistance to the idea of same-sex marriage are just some of the ways in which these new governments continue on from the previous one. The Rudd-Gillard government’s dealings with gay law reform and gay marriage exemplify the post-coalitional condition. Emulating Christ’s relationship to “the marginalised and the oppressed”, and with Gillard at his side, Rudd understandings of the Christian Gospel as a “social gospel” (Rudd, “Faith”; see also Randell-Moon) to table changes to laws discriminating against gay couples – guaranteeing hospital visits, social security benefits and access to superannuation, resembling de-facto hetero relationships but modelled on the administering and registration of relationships, or on tax laws that speak primarily to relations of financial dependence – with particular reference to children. The changes are based on the report, Same Sex, Same Entitlements (HREOC) that argues for the social competence of queer folk, with respect to money, property and reproduction. They speak the language of an equitable economics; one that still leaves healthy and childless couples with limited recognition and advantage but increased financial obligation. Unable to marry in Australia, same-sex couples are no longer single for taxation purposes, but are now simultaneously subject to forms of tax/income auditing and governmental revenue collection should either same-sex partner require assistance from social security as if they were married. Heteronormative Coalition Queer citizens can quietly stake their economic claims and in most states discreetly sign their names on a register before becoming invisible again. Mardi Gras happens but once a year after all. On the topic of gay marriage Rudd and Gillard have deferred to past policy and to the immoveable nature of the law (and to Howard’s particular changes to marriage law). That same respect is not extended to laws passed by Howard on industrial relations or border control. In spite of finding no gospel references to Jesus the Nazarene “expressly preaching against homosexuality” (Rudd, “Faith”), and pre-election promises that territories could govern themselves with respect to same sex partnerships, the Rudd-Gillard government in 2008 pressured the ACT to reduce its proposed partnership legislation to that of a relationship register like the ones in Tasmania and Victoria, and explicitly demanded that there be absolutely no ceremony – no mimicking of the real deal, of the larger, heterosexual citizens’ “ingroup”. Likewise, with respect to the reintroduction of same-sex marriage legislation by Greens senator Sarah Hanson Young in September 2010, Gillard has so far refused a conscience vote on the issue and restated the “marriage is between a man and a woman” rhetoric of her predecessors (Topsfield, 30 Sep. 2010). At the same time, she has agreed to conscience votes on euthanasia and openly declared bi-partisan (with the federal opposition) support for the war in Afghanistan. We see now, from Howard to Rudd and now Gillard, that there are some coalitions that override political differences. As psychologists have noted, “if the social benefits of norm adherence are the ultimate cause of the individual’s subscription to worldviews, then the focus and salience of a given individual’s ideology can be expected to vary as a function of their need to ally themselves with relevant others” (Navarette and Fessler 307). Where Howard invoked the “Judaeo-Christian tradition”, Rudd chose to cite a “Christian ethical framework” (Rudd, “Faith”), that saw him and Gillard end up in exactly the same place: same sex relationships should be reduced to that of medical care or financial dependence; that a public ceremony marking relationship recognition somehow equates to “mimicking” the already performative and symbolic heterosexual institution of marriage and the associated romantic and familial arrangements. Conclusion Post-coalitional Australia refers to the state of confusion borne of a new politics of equality and change. The shift in Australia from conservative to mildly socialist government(s) is not as sudden as Howard’s 2007 federal loss or as short-lived as Gillard’s hung parliament might respectively suggest. Whilst allegiance shifts, political parties find support is reliant on persistence as much as it is on change – they decide how to buffer and bolster the same coalitions (ones that continue to privilege white settlement, Christian belief systems, heteronormative familial and symbolic practices), but also how to practice policy and social responsibility in a different way. Rudd’s and Gillard’s arguments against the mimicry of heterosexual symbolism and the ceremonial validation of same-sex partnerships imply there is one originary form of conduct and an associated sacred set of symbols reserved for that larger ingroup. Like Howard before them, these post-coalitional leaders fail to recognise, as Butler eloquently argues, “gay is to straight not as copy is to original, but as copy is to copy” (31). To make claims to status and entitlements that invoke the messiness of non-normative sex acts and romantic attachments necessarily requires the negotiation of heteronormative coalitional bias (and in some ways a reinforcement of this social power). As Bell and Binnie have rightly observed, “that’s what the hard choices facing the sexual citizen are: the push towards rights claims that make dissident sexualities fit into heterosexual culture, by demanding equality and recognition, versus the demand to reject settling for heteronormativity” (141). The new Australian political “blindness” toward discrimination produces positive outcomes whilst it explicitly reanimates the histories of oppression it seeks to redress. The New South Wales parliament recently voted to allow same-sex adoption with the proviso that concerned parties could choose not to adopt to gay couples. The Tasmanian government voted to recognise same-sex marriages and unions from outside Australia, in the absence of same-sex marriage beyond the current registration arrangements in its own state. In post-coalitional Australia the issue of same-sex partnership recognition pits parties and allegiances against each other and against themselves from within (inside Gillard’s “rainbow coalition” the Rainbow ALP group now unites gay people within the government’s own party). Gillard has hinted any new proposed legislation regarding same-sex marriage may not even come before parliament for debate, as it deals with real business. Perhaps the answer lies over the rainbow (coalition). As the saying goes, “there are none so blind as those that will not see”. References ABC News Online. “Whitehouse Scraps Coalition of the Willing List.” 22 Jan. 2005. 1 July 2007 ‹http://www.abc.net.au/news/newsitems/200501/s1286872.htm›. Axelrod, Robert. The Evolution of Cooperation. New York: Basic Books, 1984. 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Introduction How do we measure intimacy? What are its impacts on our social, political and personal lives? Can we claim a politics to our intimate lives that escapes the normative confines of archaic institutions, while making social justice claims for relationship recognition? Negotiating some of these disparate questions requires us to think more broadly in contemporary public debates on equality and relationship recognition. Specifically, by outlining the impacts of the popular "gay marriage" debate, this paper examines the impacts of queer theory in association with public policy and community lobbying for relationship equality. Much of the debate remains polarised: eliminating discrimination is counterposed to religious or reproductive narratives that suggest such recognition undermines the value of the "natural" heterosexual family. Introducing queer theory into advocacy that oscillates between rights and reproduction problematises indexing intimacy against normative ideas of monogamy and family. While the arguments circulated by academics, lawyers, politicians and activists have disparate political and ethical impacts, when taken together, they continue to define marriage as a public regulation of intimacy and citizenship. Citizenship, measured in democratic participation and choice, however, can only be realised through reflexive politics that value difference. Encouraging critical dialogue across disparate areas of the marriage equality debate will have a significant impact on how we make ethical claims for recognising intimacy. (Re)defining Marriage In legislative terms, marriage remains the most fundamental means through which the relationship between citizenship and intimacy is crystallised in Australia. For example, in 2004 the Federal Liberal Government in Australia passed a legislative amendment to the Marriage Act 1961 and expressly defined marriage as a union between a man and a woman. By issuing a public legislative amendment, the Government intended to privilege monogamous (in this case understood as heterosexual) intimacy by precluding same-sex or polygamous marriage. Such an exercise had rhetorical rather than legal significance, as common law principles had previously defined the scope of marriage in gender specific terms for decades (Graycar and Millbank 41). Marriage as an institution, however, is not a universal or a-historical discourse limited to legal or political constructs. Socialist feminist critiques of marriage in the 1950s conceptualised the legal and gender specific constructs in marriage as a patriarchal contract designed to regulate female bodies (Hannam 146). However, Angela McRobbie notes that within a post-feminist context, these historical realities of gendered subjugation, reproduction or domesticity have been "disarticulated" (26). Marriage has become a more democratic and self-reflexive expression of intimacy for women. David Shumway elaborates this idea and argues that this shift has emerged in a context of "social solidarity" within a consumer environment of social fragmentation (23). What this implies is that marriage now evokes a range of cultural choices, consumer practices and affective trends that are incommensurable to a singular legal or historical term of reference. Debating the Politics of Intimacy and Citizenship In order to reflect on this shifting relationship between choice, citizenship and marriage as a concept, it is necessary to highlight that marriage extends beyond private articulations of love. It is a ritualised performance of heterosexual individual (or coupled) citizenship as it entrenches economic and civil rights and responsibilities. The private becomes public. Current neo-liberal approaches to same-sex marriage focus on these symbolic and economic questions of how recognising intimacy is tied to equality. In a legal and political context, marriage is defined in s5 Marriage Act as "the union between a man and a woman to the exclusion of all others, voluntarily entered into for life." While the Act does not imbue marriage with religious or procreative significance, such a gender dichotomous definition prevents same-sex and gender diverse partners from entering into marriage. For Morris Kaplan, this is a problem because "full equality for lesbian and gay citizens requires access to the legal and social recognition of our intimate associations" (201). Advocates and activists define the quest for equal citizenship by engaging with current religious dogma that situates marriage within a field of reproduction, whereby same-sex marriage is seen to rupture the traditional rubric of monogamous kinship and the biological processes of "gender complementarity" (Australian Christian Lobby 1). Liberal equality arguments reject such conservative assertions on the basis that desire, sexuality and intimacy are innate features of human existence and hence always already implicated in public spheres (Kaplan 202). Thus, legal visibility or state recognition becomes crucial to sustaining practices of intimacy. Problematising the broader social impact of a civil rights approach through the perspective of queer theory, the private/public distinctions that delineate citizenship and intimacy become more difficult to negotiate. Equality and queer theory arguments on same-sex marriage are difficult to reconcile, primarily because they signify the different psychic and cultural investments in the monogamous couple. Butler asserts that idealisations of the couple in legal discourse relates to norms surrounding community, family and nationhood (Undoing 116). This structured circulation of sexual norms reifies the hetero-normative forms of relationships that ought to be recognised (and are desired) by the state. Butler also interrogates this logic of marriage, as a heterosexual norm, and suggests it has the capacity to confine rather than liberate subjects (Undoing 118-20). The author's argument relies upon Michel Foucault's notion of power and subjection, where the subject is not an autonomous individual (as conceived in neo liberal discourses) but a site of disciplined discursive production (Trouble 63). Butler positions the heterosexuality of marriage as a "cultural and symbolic foundation" that renders forms of kinship, monogamy, parenting and community intelligible (Undoing 118). In this sense, marriage can be a problematic articulation of state interests, particularly in terms of perpetuating domesticity, economic mobility and the heterosexual family. As former Australian Prime Minister John Howard opines: Marriage is … one of the bedrock institutions of our society … marriage, as we understand it in our society, is about children … providing for the survival of the species. (qtd. in Wade) Howard's politicisation of marriage suggests that it remains crucial to the preservation of the nuclear family. In doing so, the statement also exemplifies homophobic anxieties towards non-normative kinship relations "outside the family". The Prime Ministers' words characterise marriage as a framework which privileges hegemonic ideas of monogamy, biological reproduction and gender dichotomy. Butler responds to these homophobic terms by alluding to the discursive function of a "heterosexual matrix" which codes and produces dichotomous sexes, genders and (hetero)sexual desires (Trouble 36). By refusing to accept the binary neo-liberal discourse in which one is either for or against gay marriage, Butler asserts that by prioritising marriage, the individual accepts the discursive terms of recognition and legitimacy in subjectifying what counts as love (Undoing 115). What this author's argument implies is that by recuperating marital norms, the individual is not liberated, but rather participates in the discursive "trap" and succumbs to the terms of a heterosexual matrix (Trouble 56). In contradistinction to Howard's political rhetoric, engaging with Foucault's broader theoretical work on sexuality and friendship can influence how we frame the possibilities of intimacy beyond parochial narratives of conjugal relationships. Foucault emphasises that countercultural intimacies rely on desires that are relegated to the margins of mainstream (hetero)sexual culture. For example, the transformational aesthetics in practices such as sadomasochism or queer polyamorous relationships exist due to certain prohibitions in respect to sex (Foucault, History (1) 38, and "Sex" 169). Foucault notes how forms of resistance that transgress mainstream norms produce new experiences of pleasure. Being "queer" (though Foucault does not use this word) becomes identified with new modes of living, rather than a static identity (Essential 138). Extending Foucault, Butler argues that positioning queer intimacies within a field of state recognition risks normalising relationships in terms of heterosexual norms whilst foreclosing the possibilities of new modes of affection. Jasbir Puar argues that queer subjects continue to feature on the peripheries of moral and legal citizenship when their practices of intimacy fail to conform to the socio-political dyadic ideal of matrimony, fidelity and reproduction (22-28). Puar and Butler's reluctance to embrace marriage becomes clearer through an examination of the obiter dicta in the recent American jurisprudence where the proscription on same-sex marriage was overturned in California: To the extent proponents seek to encourage a norm that sexual activity occur within marriage to ensure that reproduction occur within stable households, Proposition 8 discourages that norm because it requires some sexual activity and child-bearing and child-rearing to occur outside marriage. (Perry vs Schwarzenegger 128) By connecting the discourse of matrimony and sex with citizenship, the court reifies the value of marriage as an institution of the family, which should be extended to same-sex couples. Therefore, by locating the family in reproductive heterosexual terms, the court forecloses other modes of recognition or rights for those who are in non-monogamous relationships or choose not to reproduce. The legal reasoning in the case evinces the ways in which intimate citizenship or legitimate kinship is understood in highly parochial terms. As Kane Race elaborates, the suturing of domesticity and nationhood, with the rhetoric that "reproduction occur within stable households", frames heterosexual nuclear bonds as the means to legitimate sexual relations (98). By privileging a familial kinship aesthetic to marriage, the state implicitly disregards recognising the value of intimacy in non-nuclear communities or families (Race 100). Australia, however, unlike most foreign nations, has a dual model of relationship recognition. De facto relationships are virtually indistinguishable from marriage in terms of the rights and entitlements couples are able to access. Very recently, the amendments made by the Same-Sex Relationships (Equal Treatment in Commonwealth Laws - General Reform) Act 2008 (Cth) has ensured same-sex couples have been included under Federal definitions of de facto relationships, thereby granting same-sex couples the same material rights and entitlements as heterosexual married couples. While comprehensive de facto recognition operates uniquely in Australia, it is still necessary to question the impact of jurisprudence that considers only marriage provides the legitimate structure for raising children. As Laurent Berlant suggests, those who seek alternative "love plots" are denied the legal and cultural spaces to realise them ("Love" 479). Berlant's critique emphasises how current "progressive" legal approaches to same-sex relationships rely on a monogamous (heterosexual) trajectory of the "love plot" which marginalises those who are in divorced, single, polyamorous or multi-parent situations. For example, in the National Year of Action, a series of marriage equality rallies held across Australia over 2010, non-conjugal forms of intimacy were inadvertently sidelined in order to make a claim for relationship recognition. In a letter to the Sydney Star Observer, a reader laments: As a gay man, I cannot understand why gay people would want to engage in a heterosexual ritual called marriage … Why do gay couples want to buy into this ridiculous notion is beyond belief. The laws need to be changed so that gays are treated equal under the law, but this is not to be confused with marriage as these are two separate issues... (Michael 2) Marriage marks a privileged position of citizenship and consumption, to which all other gay and lesbian rights claims are tangential. Moreover, as this letter to the Sydney Star Observer implies, by claiming sexual citizenship through the rubric of marriage, discussions about other campaigns for legislative equality are effectively foreclosed. Melissa Gregg expands on such a problematic, noting that the legal responses to equality reiterate a normative relationship between sexuality and power, where only couples that subscribe to dyadic, marriage-like relationships are offered entitlements by the state (4). Correspondingly, much of the public activism around marriage equality in Australia seeks to achieve its impact for equality (reforming the Marriage Act) by positioning intimacy in terms of state legitimacy. Butler and Warner argue that when speaking of legitimacy a relation to what is legitimate is implied. Lisa Bower corroborates this, asserting "legal discourse creates norms which universalise particular modes of living…while suppressing other practices and identities" (267). What Butler's and Bower's arguments reveal is that legitimacy is obtained through the extension of marriage to homosexual couples. For example, Andrew Barr, the current Labor Party Education Minister in the Australian Capital Territory (ACT), noted that "saying no to civil unions is to say that some relationships are more legitimate than others" (quoted in "Legal Ceremonies"). Ironically, such a statement privileges civil unions by rendering them as the normative basis on which to grant legal recognition. Elizabeth Povinelli argues the performance of dyadic intimacy becomes the means to assert legal and social sovereignty (112). Therefore, as Jenni Millbank warns, marriage, or even distinctive forms of civil unions, if taken alone, can entrench inequalities for those who choose not to participate in these forms of recognition (8). Grassroots mobilisation and political lobbying strategies around marriage equality activism can have the unintentional impact, however, of obscuring peripheral forms of intimacy and subsequently repudiating those who contest the movement towards marriage. Warner argues that those who choose to marry derive pride from their monogamous commitment and "family" oriented practice, a privilege afforded through marital citizenship (82). Conversely, individuals and couples who deviate from the "normal" (read: socially palatable) intimate citizen, such as promiscuous or polyamorous subjects, are rendered shameful or pitiful. This political discourse illustrates that there is a strong impetus in the marriage equality movement to legitimate "homosexual love" because it mimics the norms of monogamy, stability, continuity and family by only seeking to substitute the sex of the "other" partner. Thus, civil rights discourse maintains the privileged political economy of marriage as it involves reproduction (even if it is not biological), mainstream social roles and monogamous sex. By defining social membership and future life in terms of a heterosexual life-narrative, same-sex couples become wedded to the idea of matrimony as the basis for sustainable intimacy and citizenship (Berlant and Warner 557). Warner is critical of recuperating discourses that privilege marriage as the ideal form of intimacy. This is particularly concerning when diverse erotic and intimate communities, which are irreducible to normative forms of citizenship, are subject to erasure. Que(e)rying the Future of Ethics and Politics By connecting liberal equality arguments with Butler and Warner's work on queer ethics, there is hesitation towards privileging marriage as the ultimate form of intimacy. Moreover, Butler stresses the importance of a transformative practice of queer intimacy: It is crucial…that we maintain a critical and transformative relation to the norms that govern what will not count as intelligible and recognisable alliance and kinship. (Undoing 117) Here the author attempts to negotiate the complex terrain of queer citizenship and ethics. On one hand, it is necessary to be made visible in order to engage in political activism and be afforded rights within a state discourse. Simultaneously, on the other hand, there is a need to transform the prevailing hetero-normative rhetoric of romantic love in order to prevent pathologising bodies or rendering certain forms of intimacy as aberrant or deviant because, as Warner notes, they do not conform to our perception of what we understand to be normal or morally desirable. Foucault's work on the aesthetics of the self offers a possible transformational practice which avoids the risks Warner and Butler mention because it eludes the "normative determinations" of moralities and publics, whilst engaging in an "ethical stylization" (qtd. in Race 144). Whilst Foucault's work does not explicitly address the question of marriage, his work on friendship gestures to the significance of affective bonds. Queer kinship has the potential to produce new ethics, where bodies do not become subjects of desires, but rather act as agents of pleasure. Negotiating the intersection between active citizenship and transformative intimacy requires rethinking the politics of recognition and normalisation. Warner is quite ambivalent as to the potential of appropriating marriage for gays and lesbians, despite the historical dynamism of marriage. Rather than acting as a progressive mechanism for rights, it is an institution that operates by refusing to recognise other relations (Warner 129). However, as Alexander Duttmann notes, recognition is more complex and a paradoxical means of relation and identification. It involves a process in which the majority neutralises the difference of the (minority) Other in order to assimilate it (27). However, in the process of recognition, the Other which is validated, then transforms the position of the majority, by altering the terms by which recognition is granted. Marriage no longer simply confers recognition for heterosexual couples to engage in reproduction (Secomb 133). While some queer couples may subscribe to a monogamous relationship structure, these relationships necessarily trouble conservative politics. The lamentations of the Australian Christian Lobby regarding the "fundamental (anatomical) gender complementarity" of same-sex marriage reflect this by recognising the broader social transformation that will occur (and already does with many heterosexual marriages) by displacing the association between marriage, procreation and parenting (5). Correspondingly, Foucault's work assists in broadening the debate on relationship recognition by transforming our understanding of choice and ethics in terms of "queer friendship." He describes it as a practice that resists the normative public distinction between romantic and platonic affection and produces new aesthetics for sexual and non-sexual intimacy (Foucault, Essential 170). Linnell Secomb argues that this "double potential" alluded to in Foucault and Duttman's work, has the capacity to neutralise difference as Warner fears (133). However, it can also transform dominant narratives of sexual citizenship, as enabling marriage equality will impact on how we imagine traditional heterosexual or patriarchal "plots" to intimacy (Berlant, "Intimacy" 286). Conclusion Making an informed impact into public debates on marriage equality requires charting the locus of sexuality, intimacy and citizenship. Negotiating academic discourses, social and community activism, with broader institutions and norms presents political and social challenges when thinking about the sorts of intimacy that should be recognised by the state. The civil right to marriage, irrespective of the sex or gender of one's partner, reflects a crucial shift towards important democratic participation of non-heterosexual citizens. However, it is important to note that the value of such intimacy cannot be indexed against a single measure of legal reform. While Butler and Warner present considered indictments on the normalisation of queer intimacy through marriage, such arguments do not account for the impacts of que(e)rying cultural norms and practices through social and political change. Marriage is not a singular or a-historical construction reducible to state recognition. Moreover, in a secular democracy, marriage should be one of many forms of diverse relationship recognition open to same-sex and gender diverse couples. In order to expand the impact of social and legal claims for recognition, it is productive to rethink the complex nature of recognition, ritual and aesthetics within marriage. In doing so, we can begin to transform the possibilities for articulating intimate citizenship in plural democracies. References Australian Christian Lobby. "Submission to the Senate Legal and Constitutional Affairs Legislation Committee Inquiry into the Marriage Equality Amendment Bill 2009." Deakin: ACL, 2009. Australian Government. "Sec. 5." Marriage Act of 1961 (Cth). 1961. ———. Same-Sex Relationships (Equal Treatment in Commonwealth Laws - General Reform) Act 2008 (Cth). 2008. Bell, David, and John Binnie. The Sexual Citizen: Queer Politics and Beyond. Oxford: Polity P, 2000. Berlant, Lauren. "Intimacy: A Special Issue." Critical Inquiry 24 (1998): 281-88. ———. "Love, a Queer Feeling." Homosexuality and Psychoanalysis. Eds. Tim Dean and Christopher Lane. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 2001:432-52. Berlant, Lauren, and Michael Warner. "Sex in Public." Ed. Lauren Berlant. Intimacy. Chicago and London: U of Chicago P, 2000: 311-30. Bower, Lisa. "Queer Problems/Straight Solutions: The Limits of a Politics of 'Official Recognition'" Playing with Fire: Queer Politics, Queer Theories. Ed. Shane Phelan. London and New York: Routledge, 1997: 267-91. Butler, Judith. Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity. New York and London: Routledge, 1990. ———. Undoing Gender. New York: Routledge, 2004. Duttmann, Alexander. Between Cultures: Tensions in the Struggle for Recognition. London: Verso, 2000. Foucault, Michel. The History of Sexuality (1): The Will to Knowledge. London: Penguin Books, 1977. ———. "Sex, Power and the Politics of Identity." Ethics: Subjectivity and Truth. Ed. Paul Rabinow. London: Allen Lange/Penguin, 1984. 163-74. ———. Essential Works of Foucault: 1954-1984: Ethics, Vol. 1. London: Penguin, 2000. Graycar, Reg, and Jenni Millbank. "From Functional Families to Spinster Sisters: Australia's Distinctive Path to Relationship Recognition." Journal of Law and Policy 24. 2007: 1-44. Gregg, Melissa. "Normal Homes." M/C Journal 10.4 (2007). 27 Aug. 2007 ‹http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0708/02-gregg.php›. Hannam, Jane. Feminism. London and New York: Pearson Education, 2007. Kaplan, Morris. "Intimacy and Equality: The Question of Lesbian and Gay Marriage." Playing with Fire: Queer Politics, Queer Theories. Ed. Shane Phelan. London and New York: Routledge, 1997: 201-30. "Legal Ceremonies for Same-Sex Couples." ABC Online 11 Nov. 2009. 13 Dec. 2011 ‹http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2009/11/11/2739661.htm›. McRobbie, Angela. The Aftermath of Feminism: Gender, Culture and Social Change. London and New York: Sage, 2008. Michael. "Why Marriage?" Letter to the Editor. Sydney Star Observer 1031 (20 July 2010): 2. Millbank, Jenni. "Recognition of Lesbian and Gay Families in Australian Law - Part One: Couples." Federal Law Review 34 (2008): 1-44. Perry v. Schwarzenegger. 3: 09 CV 02292. United States District Court for the Northern District of California. 2010. Povinelli, Elizabeth. Empire of Love: Toward a Theory of Intimacy, Genealogy and Carnality. Durham: Duke UP, 2006. Puar, Jasbir. Terrorist Assemblages: Homonationalism in Queer Times. Durham: Duke UP, 2007. Race, Kane. Pleasure Consuming Medicine: The Queer Politics of Drugs. Durham and London: Duke UP, 2009. Secomb, Linnell. Philosophy and Love. Edinburgh: Edinburgh UP, 2007. Shumway, David. Modern Love: Romance, Intimacy and the Marriage Crisis. New York: New York UP, 2003. Wade, Matt. "PM Joins Opposition against Gay Marriage as Cleric's Election Stalls." The Sydney Morning Herald 6 Aug. 2003. Warner, Michael. The Trouble with Normal: Sex, Politics and the Ethics of Queer Life. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1999.

Introduction The counterculture that arose during the 1960s and 1970s left lasting social and political reverberations in developed nations. This was a time of increasing affluence and liberalisation which opened up remarkable political opportunities for social change. Within this context, an array of new social movements were a vital ingredient of the ferment that saw existing norms challenged and the establishment of new rights for many oppressed groups. An expanding arena of concerns included the environmental damage caused by 200 years of industrial capitalism. This article examines one aspect of a current environment movement in Australia, the anti-Coal Seam Gas (CSG) movement, and the part played by participants. In particular, the focus is upon one action that emerged during the recent Bentley Blockade, which was a regional mobilisation against proposed unconventional gas mining (UGM) near Lismore, NSW. Over the course of the blockade, the conventional ritual of waving at passers-by was transformed into a mechanism for garnering broad community support. Arguably, this was a crucial factor in the eventual outcome. In this case, we contend that the wave, rather than a countercultural artefact being appropriated by the mainstream, represents an everyday behaviour that builds social solidarity, which is subverted to become an effective part of the repertoire of the movement. At a more general level, this article examines how counterculture and mainstream interact via the subversion of “ordinary” citizens and the role of certain cultural understandings for that purpose. We will begin by examining the nature of the counterculture and its relationship to social movements before discussing the character of the anti-CSG movement in general and the Bentley Blockade in particular, using the personal experience of one of the writers. We will then be able to explore our thesis in detail and make some concluding remarks. The Counterculture and Social Movements In this article, we follow Cox’s understanding of the counterculture as a kind of meta-movement within which specific social movements are situated. For Cox (105), the counterculture that flourished during the 1960s and 1970s was an overarching movement in which existing social relations—in particular the family—were rejected by a younger generation, who succeeded in effectively fusing previously separate political and cultural spheres of dissent into one. Cox (103-04) points out that the precondition for such a phenomenon is “free space”—conditions under which counter-hegemonic activity can occur—for example, being liberated from the constraints of working to subsist, something which the unprecedented prosperity of the post WWII years allowed. Hence, in the 1960s and 1970s, as the counterculture emerged, a wave of activism arose in the western world which later came to be referred to as new social movements. These included the civil rights movement, women’s liberation, pacifism and the anti-nuclear and environment movements. The new movements rejected established power and organisational structures and tended, some scholars argued, to cross class lines, basing their claims on non-material issues. Della Porta and Diani claim this wave of movements is characterised by: a critical ideology in relation to modernism and progress; decentralized and participatory organizational structures; defense of interpersonal solidarity against the great bureaucracies; and the reclamation of autonomous spaces, rather than material advantages. (9) This depiction clearly announces the countercultural nature of the new social movements. As Carter (91) avers, these movements attempted to bypass the state and instead mobilise civil society, employing a range of innovative tactics and strategies—the repertoire of action—which may involve breaking laws. It should be noted that over time, some of these movements did shift towards accommodation of existing power structures and became more reformist in nature, to the point of forming political parties in the case of the Greens. However, inasmuch as the counterculture represented a merging of distinctively non-mainstream ways of life with the practice of actively challenging social arrangements at a political level (Cox 18–19; Grossberg 15–18;), the tactic of mobilising civil society to join social movements demonstrates in fact a reverse direction: large numbers of people are transfigured in radical ways by their involvement in social movements. One important principle underlying much of the repertoire of action of these new movements was non-violence. Again, this signals countercultural norms of the period. As Sharp (583–86) wrote at the time, non-violence is crucial in that it denies the aggressor their rationale for violent repression. This principle is founded on the liberal notion, whose legacy goes back to Locke, that the legitimacy of the government rests upon the consent of the governed—that is, the people can withdraw their consent (Locke in Ball & Dagger 92). Ghandi also relied upon this idea when formulating his non-violent approach to conflict, satyagraha (Sharp 83–84). Thus an idea that upholds the modern state is adopted by the counterculture in order to undermine it (the state), again demonstrating an instance of counterflow from the mainstream. Non-violence does not mean non-resistance. In fact, it usually involves non-compliance with a government or other authority and when practised in large numbers, can be very effective, as Ghandi and those in the civil rights movement showed. The result will be either that the government enters into negotiation with the protestors, or they can engage in violence to suppress them, which generally alienates the wider population, leading to a loss of support (Finley & Soifer 104–105). Tarrow (88) makes the important point that the less threatening an action, the harder it is to repress. As a result, democratic states have generally modified their response towards the “strategic weapon of nonviolent protest and even moved towards accommodation and recognition of this tactic as legitimate” (Tarrow 172). Nevertheless, the potential for state violence remains, and the freedom to protest is proscribed by various laws. One of the key figures to emerge from the new social movements that formed an integral part of the counterculture was Bill Moyer, who, in conjunction with colleagues produced a seminal text for theorising and organising social movements (Moyer et al.). Many contemporary social movements have been significantly influenced by Moyer’s Movement Action Plan (MAP), which describes not only key theoretical concepts but is also a practical guide to movement building and achieving aims. Moyer’s model was utilised in training the Northern Rivers community in the anti-CSG movement in conjunction with the non-violent direct action (NVDA) model developed by the North-East Forest Alliance (NEFA) that resisted logging in the forests of north-eastern NSW during the late 1980s and 1990s (Ricketts 138–40). Indeed, the Northern Rivers region of NSW—dubbed the Rainbow Region—is celebrated, as a “‘meeting place’ of countercultures and for the articulation of social and environmental ideals that challenge mainstream practice” (Ward and van Vuuren 63). As Bible (6–7) outlines, the Northern Rivers’ place in countercultural history is cemented by the holding of the Aquarius Festival in Nimbin in 1973 and the consequent decision of many attendees to stay on and settle in the region. They formed new kinds of communities based on an alternative ethics that eschewed a consumerist, individualist agenda in favour of modes of existence that emphasised living in harmony with the environment. The Terania Creek campaign of the late 1970s made the region famous for its environmental activism, when the new settlers resisted the logging of Nightcap National Park using nonviolent methods (Bible 5). It was also instrumental in developing an array of ingenious actions that were used in subsequent campaigns such as the Franklin Dam blockade in Tasmania in the early 1980s (Kelly 116). Indeed, many of these earlier activists were key figures in the anti-CSG movement that has developed in the Rainbow Region over the last few years. The Anti-CSG Movement Despite opposition to other forms of UGM, such as tight sands and shale oil extraction techniques, the term anti-CSG is used here, as it still seems to attract wide recognition. Unconventional gas extraction usually involves a process called fracking, which is the injection at high pressure of water, sand and a number of highly toxic chemicals underground to release the gas that is trapped in rock formations. Among the risks attributed to fracking are contamination of aquifers, air pollution from fugitive emissions and exposure to radioactive particles with resultant threats to human and animal health, as well as an increased risk of earthquakes (Ellsworth; Hand 13; Sovacool 254–260). Additionally, the vast amount of water that is extracted in the fracking process is saline and may contain residues of the fracking chemicals, heavy metals and radioactive matter. This produced water must either be stored or treated (Howarth 273–73; Sovacool 255). Further, there is potential for accidents and incidents and there are many reports—particularly in the United States where the practice is well established—of adverse events such as compressors exploding, leaks and spills, and water from taps catching fire (Sovacool 255–257). Despite an abundance of anecdotal evidence, until recently authorities and academics believed there was not enough “rigorous evidence” to make a definitive judgment of harm to animal and human health as a result of fracking (Mitka 2135). For example, in Australia, the Queensland Government was unable to find a clear link between fracking and health complaints in the Tara gasfield (Thompson 56), even though it is known that there are fugitive emissions from these gasfields (Tait et al. 3099-103). It is within this context that grassroots opposition to UGM began in Australia. The largest and most sustained challenge has come from the Northern Rivers of New South Wales, where a company called Metgasco has been attempting to engage in UGM for a number of years. Stiff community opposition has developed over this time, with activists training, co-ordinating and organising using the principles of Moyer’s MAP and NEFA’s NVDA. Numerous community and affinity groups opposing UGM sprang up including the Lock the Gate Alliance (LTG), a grassroots organisation opposing coal and gas mining, which formed in 2010 (Lock the Gate Alliance online). The movement put up sustained resistance to Metgasco’s attempts to establish wells at Glenugie, near Grafton and Doubtful Creek, near Kyogle in 2012 and 2013, despite the use of a substantial police presence at both locations. In the event, neither site was used for production despite exploratory wells being sunk (ABC News; Dobney). Metgasco announced it would be withdrawing its operations following new Federal and State government regulations at the time of the Doubtful Creek blockade. However it returned to the fray with a formal announcement in February 2014 (Metgasco), that it would drill at Bentley, 12 kilometres west of Lismore. It was widely believed this would occur with a view to production on an industrial scale should initial exploration prove fruitful. The Bentley Blockade It was known well before the formal announcement that Metgasco planned to drill at Bentley and community actions such as flash mobs, media releases and planning meetings were part of the build-up to direct action at the site. One of the authors of this article was actively involved in the movement and participated in a variety of these actions. By the end of January 2014 it was decided to hold an ongoing vigil at the site, which was still entirely undeveloped. Participants, including one author, volunteered for four-hour shifts which began at 5 a.m. each day and before long, were lasting into the night. The purpose of a vigil is to bear witness, maintain a presence and express a point of view. It thus accords well with the principle of non-violence. Eventually the site mushroomed into a tent village with three gates being blockaded. The main gate, Gate A, sprouted a variety of poles, tripods and other installations together with colourful tents and shelters, peopled by protesters on a 24-hour basis. The vigils persisted on all three gates for the duration of the blockade. As the number of blockaders swelled, popular support grew, lending weight to the notion that countercultural ideas and practices were spreading throughout the community. In response, Metgasco called on the State Government to provide police to coincide with the arrival of equipment. It was rumoured that 200 police would be drafted to defend the site in late April. When alerts were sent out to the community warning of imminent police action, an estimated crowd of 2000 people attended in the early hours of the morning and the police called off their operation (Feliu). As the weeks wore on, training was stepped up, attendees were educated in non-violent resistance and protestors willing to act as police liaison persons were placed on a rotating roster. In May, the State Government was preparing to send up to 800 police and the Riot Squad to break the blockade (NSW Hansard in Buckingham). Local farmers (now a part of the movement) and activist leaders had gone to Sydney in an effort to find a political solution in order to avoid what threatened to be a clash that would involve police violence. A confluence of events, such as: the sudden resignation of the Premier; revelations via the Independent Commission against Corruption about nefarious dealings and undue influence of the coal industry upon the government; a radio interview with locals by a popular broadcaster in Sydney; and the reputed hesitation of the police themselves in engaging with a group of possibly 7,000 to 10,000 protestors, resulted in the Office for Coal Seam Gas suspending Metgasco’s drilling licence on 15 May (NSW Department of Resources & Energy). The grounds were that the company had not adequately fulfilled its obligations to consult with the community. At the date of writing, the suspension still holds. The Wave The repertoire of contention at the Bentley Blockade was expansive, comprising most of the standard actions and strategies developed in earlier environmental struggles. These included direct blocking tactics in addition to the use of more carnivalesque actions like music and theatre, as well as the use of various media to reach a broader public. Non-violence was at the core of all actions, but we would tentatively suggest that Bentley may have provided a novel addition to the repertoire, stemming originally from the vigil, which brought the first protestors to the site. At the beginning of the vigil, which was initially held near the entrance to the proposed drilling site atop a cutting, occupants of passing vehicles below would demonstrate their support by sounding their horns and/or waving to the vigil-keepers, who at first were few in number. There was a precedent for this behaviour in the campaign leading up to the blockade. Activist groups such as the Knitting Nannas against Gas had encouraged vehicles to show support by sounding their horns. So when the motorists tooted spontaneously at Bentley, we waved back. Occupants of other vehicles would show disapproval by means of rude gestures and/or yelling and we would wave to them as well. After some weeks, as a presence began to be established at the site, it became routine for vigil keepers to smile and wave at all passing vehicles. This often elicited a positive response. After the first mass call-out discussed above, a number of us migrated to another gate, where numbers were much sparser and there was a perceived need for a greater presence. At this point, the participating writer had begun to act as a police liaison person, but the practice of waving routinely was continued. Those protecting this gate usually included protestors ready to block access, the police liaison person, a legal observer, vigil-keepers and a passing parade of visitors. Because this location was directly on the road, it was possible to see the drivers of vehicles and make eye contact more easily. Certain vehicles became familiar, passing at regular times, on the way to work or school, for example. As time passed, most of those protecting the gate also joined the waving ritual to the point where it became like a game to try to prise a signal of acknowledgement from the passing motorists, or even to win over a disapprover. Police vehicles, some of which passed at set intervals, were included in this game. Mostly they waved cheerfully. There were some we never managed to win over, but waving and making direct eye contact with regular motorists over time created a sense of community and an acknowledgement of the work we were doing, as they increasingly responded in kind. Motorists could hardly feel threatened when they encountered smiling, waving protestors. By including the disapprovers, we acted inclusively and our determined good humour seemed to de-escalate demonstrated hostility. Locals who did not want drilling to go ahead but who were nevertheless unwilling to join a direct action were thus able to participate in the resistance in a way that may have felt safe for them. Some of them even stopped and visited the site, voicing their support. Standing on the side of the road and waving to passers-by may seem peripheral to the “real” action, even trivial. But we would argue it is a valuable adjunct to a blockade (which is situated near a road) when one of the strategies of the overall campaign is to win popular backing. Hence waving, whilst not a completely new part of the repertoire, constitutes what Tilly (41–45) would call innovation at the margins, something he asserts is necessary to maintain the effectiveness and vitality of contentious action. In this case, it is arguable that the sheer size of community support probably helped to concentrate the minds of the state government politicians in Sydney, particularly as they contemplated initiating a massive, taxpayer-funded police action against the people for the benefit of a commercial operation. Waving is a symbolic gesture indicating acknowledgement and goodwill. It fits well within a repertoire based on the principle of non-violence. Moreover, it is a conventional social norm and everyday behaviour that is so innocuous that it is difficult to see how it could be suppressed by police or other authorities. Therein lies its subversiveness. For in communicating our common humanity in a spirit of friendliness, we drew attention to the fact that we were without rancour and tacitly invited others to join us and to explore our concerns. In this way, the counterculture drew upon a mainstream custom to develop and extend upon a new form of dissent. This constitutes a reversal of the more usual phenomenon of countercultural artefacts—such as “hippie clothing”—being appropriated or co-opted by the prevailing culture (see Reading). But it also fits with the more general phenomenon that we have argued was occurring; that of enticing ordinary residents into joining together in countercultural activity, via the pathway of a social movement. Conclusion The anti-CSG movement in the Northern Rivers was developed and organised by countercultural participants of previous contentious challenges. It was highly effective in building popular support whilst at the same time forging a loose coalition of various activist groups. We have surveyed one practice—the wave—that evolved out of mainstream culture over the course of the Bentley Blockade and suggested it may come to be seen as part of the repertoire of actions that can be beneficially employed under suitable conditions. Waving to passers-by invites them to become part of the movement in a non-threatening and inclusive way. It thus envelops supporters and non-supporters alike, and its very innocuousness makes it difficult to suppress. We have argued that this instance can be referenced to a similar reverse movement at a broader level—that of co-opting liberal notions and involving the general populace in new practices and activities that undermine the status quo. The ability of the counterculture in general and environment movements in particular to innovate in the quest to challenge and change what it perceives as damaging or unethical practices demonstrates its ingenuity and spirit. This movement is testament to its dynamic nature. References ABC News. Metgasco Has No CSG Extraction Plans for Glenugie. 2013. 30 July 2014 ‹http://www.abc.net.au/news/2013-01-22/metgasco-says-no-csg-extraction-planned-for-glenugie/4477652›. Bible, Vanessa. Aquarius Rising: Terania Creek and the Australian Forest Protest Movement. Bachelor of Arts (Honours) Thesis, University of New England, 2010. 4 Nov. 2014 ‹http://www.rainforestinfo.org.au/terania/Vanessa%27s%20Terania%20Thesis2.pdf›. Buckingham, Jeremy. Hansard of Bentley Blockade Motion 15/05/2014. 16 May 2014. 30 July 2014 ‹http://jeremybuckingham.org/2014/05/16/hansard-of-bentley-blockade-motion-moved-by-david-shoebridge-15052014/›. Carter, Neil. The Politics of the Environment: Ideas, Activism, Policy. 2nd ed. New York: Cambridge UP, 2007. Cox, Laurence. Building Counter Culture: The Radical Praxis of Social Movement Milieu. Helsinki: Into-ebooks 2011. 23 July 2014 ‹http://www.into-ebooks.com/book/building_counter_culture/›. Della Porta, Donatella, and Mario Diani. Social Movements: An Introduction. 2nd ed. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2006. Dobney, Chris. “Drill Rig Heads to Doubtful Creek.” Echo Netdaily Feb. 2013. 30 July 2014 ‹http://www.echo.net.au/2013/02/drill-rig-heads-to-doubtful-creek/›. Ellsworth, William. “Injection-Induced Earthquakes”. Science 341.6142 (2013). DOI: 10.1126/science.1225942. 10 July 2014 ‹http://www.sciencemag.org.ezproxy.scu.edu.au/content/341/6142/1225942.full?sid=b4679ca5-0992-4ad3-aa3e-1ac6356f10da›. Feliu, Luis. “Battle for Bentley: 2,000 Protectors on Site.” Echo Netdaily Mar. 2013. 4 Aug. 2014 ‹http://www.echo.net.au/2014/03/battle-bentley-2000-protectors-site/›. Finley, Mary Lou, and Steven Soifer. “Social Movement Theories and Map.” Doing Democracy: The MAP Model for Organizing Social Movements. Eds. Bill Moyer, Johann McAllister, Mary Lou Finley, and Steven Soifer. Gabriola Island, Canada: New Society Publishers, 2001. Grossberg, Lawrence. “Some Preliminary Conjunctural Thoughts on Countercultures”. Journal of Gender and Power 1.1 (2014). Hand, Eric. “Injection Wells Blamed in Oklahoma Earthquakes.” Science 345.6192 (2014): 13–14. Howarth, Terry. “Should Fracking Stop?” Nature 477 (2011): 271–73. Kelly, Russell. “The Mediated Forest: Who Speaks for the Trees?” Belonging in the Rainbow Region: Cultural Perspectives on the NSW North Coast. Ed. Helen Wilson. Lismore: Southern Cross UP, 2003. 101–20. Lock the Gate Alliance. 2014. 15 July 2014 ‹http://www.lockthegate.org.au/history›. Locke, John. “Toleration and Government.” Ideals and Ideologies: A Reader. Eds. Terence Ball & Richard Dagger. New York: Pearson Longman, 2004 (1823). 79–93. Metgasco. Rosella E01 Environment Approval Received 2104. 4 Aug. 2014 ‹http://www.metgasco.com.au/asx-announcements/rosella-e01-environment-approval-received›. Mitka, Mike. “Rigorous Evidence Slim for Determining Health Risks from Natural Gas Fracking.” The Journal of the American Medical Association 307.20 (2012): 2135–36. Moyer, Bill. “The Movement Action Plan.” Doing Democracy: The MAP Model for Organizing Social Movements. Eds. Bill Moyer, Johann McAllister, Mary Lou Finley, and Steven Soifer. Gabriola Island, Canada: New Society Publishers, 2001. NSW Department of Resources & Energy. “Metgasco Drilling Approval Suspended.” Media Release, 15 May 2014. 30 July 2014 ‹http://www.resourcesandenergy.nsw.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0005/516749/Metgasco-Drilling-Approval-Suspended.pdf›. Reading, Tracey. “Hip versus Square: 1960s Advertising and Clothing Industries and the Counterculture”. Research Papers 2013. 15 July 2014 ‹http://opensuic.lib.siu.edu/gs_rp/396›. Ricketts, Aiden. “The North East Forest Alliance’s Old-Growth Forest Campaign.” Belonging in the Rainbow Region: Cultural Perspectives on the NSW North Coast. Ed. Helen Wilson. Lismore: Southern Cross UP. 2003. 121–148. Sharp, Gene. The Politics of Nonviolent Action: Power and Struggle. Boston, Mass.: Porter Sargent, 1973. Sovacool, Benjamin K. “Cornucopia or Curse? Reviewing the Costs and Benefits of Shale Gas Hydraulic Fracturing (Fracking).” Renewable and Sustainable Energy Reviews (2014): 249–64. Tait, Douglas, Isaac Santos, Damien Maher, Tyler Cyronak, and Rachael Davis. “Enrichment of Radon and Carbon Dioxide in the Open Atmosphere of an Australian Coal Seam Gas Field.” Environmental Science & Technology 47 (2013): 3099–3104. Tarrow, Sidney. Power in Movement: Social Movements and Contentious Politics. 3rd ed. New York: Cambridge UP, 2011. Thompson, Chuck. “The Fracking Feud.” Medicus 53.8 (2013): 56–57. Tilly, Charles. Regimes and Repertoires. Chicago: UCP, 2006. Ward, Susan, and Kitty van Vuuren. “Belonging to the Rainbow Region: Place, Local Media, and the Construction of Civil and Moral Identities Strategic to Climate Change Adaptability.” Environmental Communication 7.1 (2013): 63–79.

Photo by Christian Bowen on Unsplash ABSTRACT Assisted Reproductive Technology can be a beneficial tool for couples unable to reproduce independently; however, it has historically discriminated against the LGBTQ+ community members. Given the evolution and acceptance of LGBTQ rights in recent years, discrimination and barriers to access reproductive technology and health care should be readdressed as they still exist within this community. INTRODUCTION In recent years, the LGBTQ+ community has made great strides toward attaining equal rights. This fight dates back to 1970 when Michael Baker and McConnell applied for a marriage license in Minnesota.[1] After the county courthouse denied the couple's request, they appealed to the Minnesota Supreme Court. Baker and McConnell’s dispute reached the US Supreme Court. Baker v. Nelson[2] was the first time a same-sex couple attempted to pursue marriage through higher courts in the US.[3] Because the couple lost the case, Baker changed his name to a gender-neutral one, and McConnell adopted Baker, allowing Baker and McConnell to have legal protections like the ability to receive certain inheritances. Baker and McConnell received a marriage license from an unsuspecting clerk from Blue Earth County, where they wed on September 3, 1971.[4] BACKGROUND The Supreme Court’s decision left individual state legislatures the option to accommodate same-sex couples’ rights constitutionally. As a result, some states banned same-sex marriage, while others offered alternative options such as domestic partnerships. With many obstacles, such as the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) and President Bush’s efforts to limit marriage to heterosexual people, Massachusetts became the first state to legalize gay marriage in 2003.[5] Other states slowly followed. Finally, in 2015 the US Supreme Court made same-sex marriage legal in all 50 states in Obergefell v. Hodges,[6] marking an important milestone for the LGBTQ+ community’s fight toward marriage equality. The Obergefell v. Hodges decision emphasized that members of the homosexual community are “not to be condemned to live in loneliness, excluded from one of civilization's oldest institutions,” thus granting them the right to “equal dignity in the eyes of the law.”[7] This paper argues that in the aftermath of the wide acceptance of LGBTQ rights, discrimination and barriers to access reproductive technology and health care persist nationally. Procreation also faces discrimination. Research supports that children’s overall psychological and physical welfare with same-sex parents does not differ compared to children with heterosexual parents.[8] Some others worry about the children’s developmental health and argue that same-sex male couples’ inability to breastfeed their children may be harmful; however, such parents can obtain breast milk via surrogate donation.[9] Further concerns regarding confusion in gender identity in children raised by same-sex parents are not supported by research in the field indicating that there are “no negative developmental or psychological outcomes for a child, nor does it result in differing gender identity, gender role behavior or sexual partner preference compared to opposite-sex parents.”[10] ANALYSIS l. Desire to Procreate The American perception toward same-sex unions has evolved “from pathology to deviant lifestyle to identity.”[11] In 2001, only 35 percent of Americans favored same‐sex marriage, while 62 percent favored it in 2017.[12] The “Gay marriage generation”[13] has a positive attitude toward same-sex unions, arising from the “interaction among activists, celebrities, political and religious leaders, and ordinary people, who together reconfigured Americans’ social imagination of homosexuality in a way that made gay marriage seem normal, logical, and good.”[14] Same-sex couples’ right to build a biological family and ability to do so using modern reproductive technology is unclear. The data generated by the LGBTQ Family Building Survey revealed “dramatic differences in expectations around family building between LGBTQ millennials (aged 18-35) and older generations of LGBTQ people,”[15] which may be in part attributable to recent federal rulings in favor of same-sex couples. Three important results from this survey are that 63 percent of LGBTQ millennials are considering expanding their families throughout parenthood, 48 percent of LGBTQ millennials are actively planning to grow their families, compared to 55 percent of non-LGBTQ millennials; and 63 percent of those LGBTQ people interested in building a family expect to use assisted reproductive technology (ART), foster care, or adoption to become parents.[16] There are 15.9 million Americans who identify as LGBTQ+ (6.1 million of whom are 18 to 35 years old); thus, an estimated “3.8 million LGBTQ+ millennials are considering expanding their families in the coming years, and 2.9 million are actively planning to do so.”[17] Yet access and affordability to ART, especially in vitro fertilization (IVF) and surrogacy for same-sex couples, has not been consistent at a national level. The two primary problems accessing ART for the LGBTQ community are the lack of federal law and cost. A federal law that guaranteed coverage would address both problems. ll. ART for Same-Sex Couples All same-sex male (SSM) couples and same-sex female (SSF) couples must involve third parties, including surrogates or egg or sperm donors.[18] ART involves the legal status of “up to two women (surrogate and egg donor),” the intended parents, and the child for SSM couples.[19] While sometimes necessary for heterosexual couples using ART, an egg or sperm from someone other than the intended parents or a surrogate will always be necessary for the LGBTQ people seeking ART. ART, in particular IVF, is essential for infertile couples unable to conceive on their own. Unlike other industrialized countries (such as Canada, the United Kingdom, Sweden, Germany, and Australia), the US does not heavily oversee this multibillion-dollar industry.[20] The American Society for Reproductive Medicine does provide lengthy guidelines to fertility clinics and sperm banks; however, state lawmakers have been less active as they seem to avoid the controversy surrounding controversial topics like embryo creation and abortion.[21] As a result, states “do not regulate how many children may be conceived from one donor, what types of medical information or updates must be supplied by donors, what genetic tests may be performed on embryos, how many fertilized eggs may be placed in a woman or how old a donor can be.”[22] lll. A Flawed Definition of Infertility The WHO defines the medical definition of infertility as “a disease of the reproductive system defined by the failure to achieve a clinical pregnancy after twelve months or more of regular unprotected sexual intercourse.”[23] This antiquated definition must be updated to include social infertility to integrate same-sex couples’ rights.[24] In the US, single individuals and LGBTQ couples interested in building a family by biological means are considered “socially infertile.”[25] If insurance coverage is allotted only to those with physical infertility, then it is exclusive to the heterosexual community. Although some states, such as New York, discussed below, have directly addressed this inequality by extending the definition of infertility and coverage of infertility treatments to include all residents regardless of sexual orientation, this is not yet the norm everywhere else. The outdated definition of infertility is one of the main issues affecting same-sex couples’ access to ART, as medical insurance companies hold on to the formal definition of infertility to deny coverage. lV. Insurance Coverage for IVF Insurance coverage varies per state and relies on the flawed definition of infertility. As of August 2020, 19 states have passed laws requiring insurance coverage for infertility, 13 of which include IVF coverage, as seen in Figure 1. Also, most states do not offer IVF coverage to low-income people through Medicaid.[26] In states that mandate IVF insurance coverage, the utilization rate was “277% of the rate when there was no coverage,”[27] which supports the likelihood that in other states, the cost is a primary barrier to access. When insurance does not cover ART, ART is reserved for wealthy individuals. One cycle of ART could cost, on average, “between $10,000 and $15,000.”[28] In addition, multiple cycles are often required as one IVF cycle only has “about a 25% to 30%” live birth success rate.[29] Altogether, the total cost of successful childbirth was estimated from $44,000 to $211,940 in 1992.[30] On February 11, 2021, New York Governor Andrew M. Cuomo “directed the Department of Financial Services to ensure that insurers begin covering fertility services immediately for same-sex couples who wish to start a family.”[31] New York had recently passed an IVF insurance law that required “large group insurance policies and contracts that provide medical, major medical, or similar comprehensive-type coverage and are delivered or issued for delivery in New York to cover three cycles of IVF used in the treatment of infertility.”[32] But the law fell short for same-sex couples, which were still required to “pay 6 or 12 months of out-of-pocket expenses for fertility treatments such as testing and therapeutic donor insemination procedures before qualifying for coverage.”[33] Cuomo’s subsequent order made up for gaps in the law, which defined infertility as “the inability to conceive after a certain period of unprotected intercourse or donor insemination.”[34] Cuomo’s order and the law combine to make New York an example other states can follow to broaden access to ART. V. Surrogacy Access to surrogacy also presents its own set of problems, although not exclusive to the LGBTQ community. Among states, there are differences in how and when parental rights are established. States in dark green in Figure 2 allow pre-birth orders, while the states in light green allow post-birth parentage orders. Pre-birth orders “are obtained prior to the child’s birth, and they order that the intended parent(s) will be recognized as the child’s only legal parent(s) and will be placed on the child’s birth certificate,” while post-birth parentage orders have the same intent but are obtained after the child’s birth. [35] For instance, states can require genetic testing post-birth, possibly causing a delay in establishing parentage.[36] Although preventable through the execution of a health care power of attorney, a surrogate mother could be the legal, medical decision-maker for the baby before the intended parents are legally recognized. On February 15, 2021, gestational surrogacy – the most popular type of surrogacy in which the surrogate has no biological link to the baby – was legalized in New York,[37] but it remains illegal in some states such as Nebraska, Louisiana, and Michigan.[38] In addition, the costs of surrogacy are rising, and it can cost $100,000 in the US.[39] Medicaid does not cover surrogacy costs,[40] and some health insurance policies provide supplemental surrogacy insurance with premiums of approximately $10,000 and deductibles starting at $15,000.[41] Thus, “surrogacy is really only available to those gay and lesbian couples who are upper class,”[42] leaving non-affluent couples out of options to start a family through biological means. Vl. A Right to Equality and Procreation Some argue that same-sex couples should have the right to procreate (or reproductive rights). Based on arguments stemming from equal rights and non-discrimination, same-sex couples who need to use ART to procreate should have access to it. The need to merge social infertility into the currently incomplete definition of fertility could help same-sex couples achieve access through insurance coverage. The human right of equality and non-discrimination guarantees “equal and effective protection against discrimination on any ground.”[43] The United Nations later clarified that “sexual orientation is a concept which is undoubtedly covered” [44] by this protection. The right to procreate is not overtly mentioned in the US Constitution; however, the Equal Protection Clause states that “No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States… without due process of law.”[45] In fact, some states have abridged the reproductive privileges of some US citizens by upholding prohibitive and intricate mechanisms that deter same-sex couples from enjoying the privileges other citizens have. The Supreme Court acknowledged procreation as a “fundamental”[46] personal right, in Skinner v. Oklahoma, mandating that the reproductive rights of individuals be upheld as the right to procreate is “one of the basic civil rights of man”[47] because “procreation [is] fundamental to the very existence and survival of the race.”[48] In Eisenstadt v. Baird, the courts also supported that “the decision whether to bear or beget a child” fundamentally affects a person.[49] I argue that this protection extends to same-sex couples seeking to procreate. Finally, Obergefell v. Hodges held that the Due Process and Equal Protection clauses ensure same-sex couples the right to marriage, as marriage “safeguards children and families, draw[ing] meaning from related rights of childrearing, procreation, and education.”[50] By implicit or explicit means, these cases align with the freedom to procreate that should not be unequally applied to different social or economic groups. Yet, the cases do not apply to accessing expensive tools to procreate. As heterosexuals and the LGBTQ community face trouble accessing expensive ART for vastly different reasons, especially IVF and surrogacy, the equal rights or discrimination argument is not as helpful. For now, it is relevant to adoption cases where religious groups can discriminate.[51] The insurance coverage level may be the best approach. While the social norms adapt and become more inclusive, the elimination of the infertility requirement or changing the definition of infertility could work. Several arguments could address the insurance coverage deficit. Under one argument, a biological or physical inability to conceive exists in the homosexual couple trying to achieve a pregnancy. Depending on the wording or a social definition, a caselaw could be developed arguing the medical definition of infertility applies to the LGBTQ community as those trying to procreate are physically unable to conceive as a couple planning to become parents. One counterargument to that approach is that it can be offensive to label people infertile (or disabled) only because of their status as part of a homosexual couple.[52] CONCLUSION In the last 50 years, there has been a notable shift in the social acceptance of homosexuality.[53] Marriage equality has opened the door for further social and legal equality, as evidenced by the increased number of same-sex couples seeking parenthood “via co-parenting, fostering, adoption or surrogacy” – colloquially referred to as the ‘Gayby Boom’.[54] However, some prejudice and disdain toward LGBTQ+ parenting remain. Equitable access to ART for all people may be attainable as new technology drives costs down, legislators face societal pressure to require broader insurance coverage, and social norms become more inclusive. [1] Eckholm, E. (2015, May 17). The same-sex couple who got a marriage license in 1971. Retrieved April 08, 2021, from https://www.nytimes.com/2015/05/17/us/the-same-sex-couple-who-got-a-marriage-license-in-1971.html [2] Eckholm, E. [3] A brief history of civil rights in the United States: A timeline of the legalization of same-sex marriage in the U.S. (2021, January 27). Retrieved April 08, 2021, from https://guides.ll.georgetown.edu/c.php?g=592919&p=4182201 [4] Eckholm, E. [5] A brief history of civil rights in the United States: A timeline of the legalization of same-sex marriage in the U.S. (2021, January 27). Retrieved April 08, 2021, from https://guides.ll.georgetown.edu/c.php?g=592919&p=4182201 [6] A brief history of civil rights in the United States [7] A brief history of civil rights in the United States [8] Lee, J., & Bolzendahl, C. (2019). Acceptance and Rejection: Patterns of opinion on homosexuality in the United States and the world. Sociological Forum, 34(4), 1026-1031. doi:10.1111/socf.12562 [9] Lee, J., et al. [10] Lee, J., et al. [11] Lee, J., et al. [12] Lee, et al. [13] Lee, et al. [14] Lee, et al. [15] LGBTQ family building survey. (2020, July 02). Retrieved April 08, 2021, from https://www.familyequality.org/resources/lgbtq-family-building-survey/ [16] LGBTQ family building survey. (2020, July 02). Retrieved April 08, 2021, from https://www.familyequality.org/resources/lgbtq-family-building-survey/ [17] LGBTQ family building survey. (2020, July 02). Retrieved April 08, 2021, from https://www.familyequality.org/resources/lgbtq-family-building-survey/ [18] Mackenzie, S. C., Wickins-Drazilova, D., & Wickins, J. (2020). The ethics of fertility treatment for same-sex male couples: Considerations for a modern fertility clinic. European Journal of Obstetrics & Gynecology and Reproductive Biology, 244, 71-75. doi:10.1016/j.ejogrb.2019.11.011 [19] Mackenzie, et al. [20] Ollove, M. (2015, March 18). States not eager to regulate fertility industry. Retrieved April 08, 2021, from https://www.pewtrusts.org/en/research-and-analysis/blogs/stateline/2015/3/18/states-not-eager-to-regulate-fertility-industry [21] Ollove, M. [22] Ollove, M. [23] World Health Organization. (2020, September 14). Infertility. World Health Organization. https://www.who.int/news-room/fact-sheets/detail/infertility [24] Leondires, M. P. (2020, March 19). Fertility insurance Mandates & same-sex couples. Retrieved April 08, 2021, from https://www.gayparentstobe.com/gay-parenting-blog/fertility-insurance-mandates-same-sex-couples/ [25] Lo, W., & Campo-Engelstein, L. (2018). Expanding the Clinical Definition of Infertility to Include Socially Infertile Individuals and Couples. Reproductive Ethics II, 71–83. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-89429-4_6 [26] Mohapatra, S. (2015). Assisted Reproduction Inequality and Marriage Equality. Chicago-Kent Law Review, 92(1). Retrieved April 08, 2021, from https://scholarship.kentlaw.iit.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=4146&context=cklawreview [27] Mohapatra, S. [28] Mohapatra, S. [29] Mohapatra, S. [30] Mohapatra, S. [31] Governor Cuomo announces new actions to expand access to FERTILITY coverage for same sex couples as part of 2021 Women's Agenda. (n.d.). [32] Health Insurers FAQs: IVF and Fertility Preservation Law Q&A Guidance. (n.d.). Retrieved April 08, 2021, from https://www.dfs.ny.gov/apps_and_licensing/health_insurers/ivf_fertility_preservation_law_qa_guidance [33] Governor Cuomo announces new actions to expand access to FERTILITY coverage for same sex couples as part of 2021 Women's Agenda. (n.d.). Retrieved April 08, 2021, from https://www.governor.ny.gov/news/governor-cuomo-announces-new-actions-expand-access-fertility-coverage-same-sex-couples-part#:~:text=February%2011%2C%202021-,Governor%20Cuomo%20Announces%20New%20Actions%20to%20Expand%20Access%20to%20Fertility,Part%20of%202021%20Women's%20Agenda&text=Cuomo%20today%20directed%20the%20Department,wish%20to%20start%20a%20family. [34] Leondires, M. P. [35] Assisted reproduction parentage proceedings information: Academy of Adoption and Assistive Reproduction Attorneys (AAAA). (2019, March 14). Retrieved April 08, 2021, from https://adoptionart.org/assisted-reproduction/parentage-proceedings/ [36] Assisted reproduction parentage proceedings information. [37] Governor Cuomo reminds surrogates and parents of their new Insurance rights and protections During Gestational Surrogacy. (n.d.). Retrieved April 08, 2021, from https://www.governor.ny.gov/news/governor-cuomo-reminds-surrogates-and-parents-their-new-insurance-rights-and-protections-during [38] U.S. Surrogacy Map: Surrogacy laws by state. (2020, December 23). Retrieved April 08, 2021, from https://www.creativefamilyconnections.com/us-surrogacy-law-map/ [39] Mohapatra, S. [40] Beitsch, R. (2017, June 29). As surrogacy surges, new parents seek legal protections. Retrieved April 08, 2021, from https://www.pewtrusts.org/en/research-and-analysis/blogs/stateline/2017/06/29/as-surrogacy-surges-new-parents-seek-legal-protections#:~:text=Medicaid%20does%20not%20cover%20surrogacy,and%20intended%20parents%20at%20risk. [41] Where to find surrogacy insurance? (2017, November 02). Retrieved April 08, 2021, from https://surrogate.com/intended-parents/surrogacy-laws-and-legal-information/where-can-i-find-surrogacy-insurance/ [42] Mohapatra, S. [43] International covenant on civil and political rights. (n.d.). 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Introduction Eating is one of the most quintessential activities of human life. Because of this primacy, eating is, as food anthropologist Sidney Mintz has observed, “not merely a biological activity, but a vibrantly cultural activity as well” (48). This article posits that the current awareness of climate change in the Western world is animating such cultural activity as the Slow Food movement and is, as a result, stimulating what could be seen as an evolutionary change in popular foodways. Moreover, this paper suggests that, in line with modelling provided by the Slow Food example, an increased awareness of the connections of climate change to the social injustices of food production might better drive social change in such areas. This discussion begins by proposing that contemporary foodways—defined as “not only what is eaten by a particular group of people but also the variety of customs, beliefs and practices surrounding the production, preparation and presentation of food” (Davey 182)—are changing in the West in relation to current concerns about climate change. Such modification has a long history. Since long before the inception of modern Homo sapiens, natural climate change has been a crucial element driving hominidae evolution, both biologically and culturally in terms of social organisation and behaviours. Macroevolutionary theory suggests evolution can dramatically accelerate in response to rapid shifts in an organism’s environment, followed by slow to long periods of stasis once a new level of sustainability has been achieved (Gould and Eldredge). There is evidence that ancient climate change has also dramatically affected the rate and course of cultural evolution. Recent work suggests that the end of the last ice age drove the cultural innovation of animal and plant domestication in the Middle East (Zeder), not only due to warmer temperatures and increased rainfall, but also to a higher level of atmospheric carbon dioxide which made agriculture increasingly viable (McCorriston and Hole, cited in Zeder). Megadroughts during the Paleolithic might well have been stimulating factors behind the migration of hominid populations out of Africa and across Asia (Scholz et al). Thus, it is hardly surprising that modern anthropogenically induced global warming—in all its’ climate altering manifestations—may be driving a new wave of cultural change and even evolution in the West as we seek a sustainable homeostatic equilibrium with the environment of the future. In 1962, Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring exposed some of the threats that modern industrial agriculture poses to environmental sustainability. This prompted a public debate from which the modern environmental movement arose and, with it, an expanding awareness and attendant anxiety about the safety and nutritional quality of contemporary foods, especially those that are grown with chemical pesticides and fertilizers and/or are highly processed. This environmental consciousness led to some modification in eating habits, manifest by some embracing wholefood and vegetarian dietary regimes (or elements of them). Most recently, a widespread awareness of climate change has forced rapid change in contemporary Western foodways, while in other climate related areas of socio-political and economic significance such as energy production and usage, there is little evidence of real acceleration of change. Ongoing research into the effects of this expanding environmental consciousness continues in various disciplinary contexts such as geography (Eshel and Martin) and health (McMichael et al). In food studies, Vileisis has proposed that the 1970s environmental movement’s challenge to the polluting practices of industrial agri-food production, concurrent with the women’s movement (asserting women’s right to know about everything, including food production), has led to both cooks and eaters becoming increasingly knowledgeable about the links between agricultural production and consumer and environmental health, as well as the various social justice issues involved. As a direct result of such awareness, alternatives to the industrialised, global food system are now emerging (Kloppenberg et al.). The Slow Food (R)evolution The tenets of the Slow Food movement, now some two decades old, are today synergetic with the growing consternation about climate change. In 1983, Carlo Petrini formed the Italian non-profit food and wine association Arcigola and, in 1986, founded Slow Food as a response to the opening of a McDonalds in Rome. From these humble beginnings, which were then unashamedly positing a return to the food systems of the past, Slow Food has grown into a global organisation that has much more future focused objectives animating its challenges to the socio-cultural and environmental costs of industrial food. Slow Food does have some elements that could be classed as reactionary and, therefore, the opposite of evolutionary. In response to the increasing homogenisation of culinary habits around the world, for instance, Slow Food’s Foundation for Biodiversity has established the Ark of Taste, which expands upon the idea of a seed bank to preserve not only varieties of food but also local and artisanal culinary traditions. In this, the Ark aims to save foods and food products “threatened by industrial standardization, hygiene laws, the regulations of large-scale distribution and environmental damage” (SFFB). Slow Food International’s overarching goals and activities, however, extend far beyond the preservation of past foodways, extending to the sponsoring of events and activities that are attempting to create new cuisine narratives for contemporary consumers who have an appetite for such innovation. Such events as the Salone del Gusto (Salon of Taste) and Terra Madre (Mother Earth) held in Turin every two years, for example, while celebrating culinary traditions, also focus on contemporary artisanal foods and sustainable food production processes that incorporate the most current of agricultural knowledge and new technologies into this production. Attendees at these events are also driven by both an interest in tradition, and their own very current concerns with health, personal satisfaction and environmental sustainability, to change their consumer behavior through an expanded self-awareness of the consequences of their individual lifestyle choices. Such events have, in turn, inspired such events in other locations, moving Slow Food from local to global relevance, and affecting the intellectual evolution of foodway cultures far beyond its headquarters in Bra in Northern Italy. This includes in the developing world, where millions of farmers continue to follow many traditional agricultural practices by necessity. Slow Food Movement’s forward-looking values are codified in the International Commission on the Future of Food and Agriculture 2006 publication, Manifesto on the Future of Food. This calls for changes to the World Trade Organisation’s rules that promote the globalisation of agri-food production as a direct response to the “climate change [which] threatens to undermine the entire natural basis of ecologically benign agriculture and food preparation, bringing the likelihood of catastrophic outcomes in the near future” (ICFFA 8). It does not call, however, for a complete return to past methods. To further such foodway awareness and evolution, Petrini founded the University of Gastronomic Sciences at Slow Food’s headquarters in 2004. The university offers programs that are analogous with the Slow Food’s overall aim of forging sustainable partnerships between the best of old and new practice: to, in the organisation’s own words, “maintain an organic relationship between gastronomy and agricultural science” (UNISG). In 2004, Slow Food had over sixty thousand members in forty-five countries (Paxson 15), with major events now held each year in many of these countries and membership continuing to grow apace. One of the frequently cited successes of the Slow Food movement is in relation to the tomato. Until recently, supermarkets stocked only a few mass-produced hybrids. These cultivars were bred for their disease resistance, ease of handling, tolerance to artificial ripening techniques, and display consistency, rather than any culinary values such as taste, aroma, texture or variety. In contrast, the vine ripened, ‘farmer’s market’ tomato has become the symbol of an “eco-gastronomically” sustainable, local and humanistic system of food production (Jordan) which melds the best of the past practice with the most up-to-date knowledge regarding such farming matters as water conservation. Although the term ‘heirloom’ is widely used in relation to these tomatoes, there is a distinctively contemporary edge to the way they are produced and consumed (Jordan), and they are, along with other organic and local produce, increasingly available in even the largest supermarket chains. Instead of a wholesale embrace of the past, it is the connection to, and the maintenance of that connection with, the processes of production and, hence, to the environment as a whole, which is the animating premise of the Slow Food movement. ‘Slow’ thus creates a gestalt in which individuals integrate their lifestyles with all levels of the food production cycle and, hence to the environment and, importantly, the inherently related social justice issues. ‘Slow’ approaches emphasise how the accelerated pace of contemporary life has weakened these connections, while offering a path to the restoration of a sense of connectivity to the full cycle of life and its relation to place, nature and climate. In this, the Slow path demands that every consumer takes responsibility for all components of his/her existence—a responsibility that includes becoming cognisant of the full story behind each of the products that are consumed in that life. The Slow movement is not, however, a regime of abstention or self-denial. Instead, the changes in lifestyle necessary to support responsible sustainability, and the sensual and aesthetic pleasure inherent in such a lifestyle, exist in a mutually reinforcing relationship (Pietrykowski 2004). This positive feedback loop enhances the potential for promoting real and long-term evolution in social and cultural behaviour. Indeed, the Slow zeitgeist now informs many areas of contemporary culture, with Slow Travel, Homes, Design, Management, Leadership and Education, and even Slow Email, Exercise, Shopping and Sex attracting adherents. Mainstreaming Concern with Ethical Food Production The role of the media in “forming our consciousness—what we think, how we think, and what we think about” (Cunningham and Turner 12)—is self-evident. It is, therefore, revealing in relation to the above outlined changes that even the most functional cookbooks and cookery magazines (those dedicated to practical information such as recipes and instructional technique) in Western countries such as the USA, UK and Australian are increasingly reflecting and promoting an awareness of ethical food production as part of this cultural change in food habits. While such texts have largely been considered as useful but socio-politically relatively banal publications, they are beginning to be recognised as a valid source of historical and cultural information (Nussel). Cookbooks and cookery magazines commonly include discussion of a surprising range of issues around food production and consumption including sustainable and ethical agricultural methods, biodiversity, genetic modification and food miles. In this context, they indicate how rapidly the recent evolution of foodways has been absorbed into mainstream practice. Much of such food related media content is, at the same time, closely identified with celebrity mass marketing and embodied in the television chef with his or her range of branded products including their syndicated articles and cookbooks. This commercial symbiosis makes each such cuisine-related article in a food or women’s magazine or cookbook, in essence, an advertorial for a celebrity chef and their named products. Yet, at the same time, a number of these mass media food celebrities are raising public discussion that is leading to consequent action around important issues linked to climate change, social justice and the environment. An example is Jamie Oliver’s efforts to influence public behaviour and government policy, a number of which have gained considerable traction. Oliver’s 2004 exposure of the poor quality of school lunches in Britain (see Jamie’s School Dinners), for instance, caused public outrage and pressured the British government to commit considerable extra funding to these programs. A recent study by Essex University has, moreover, found that the academic performance of 11-year-old pupils eating Oliver’s meals improved, while absenteeism fell by 15 per cent (Khan). Oliver’s exposé of the conditions of battery raised hens in 2007 and 2008 (see Fowl Dinners) resulted in increased sales of free-range poultry, decreased sales of factory-farmed chickens across the UK, and complaints that free-range chicken sales were limited by supply. Oliver encouraged viewers to lobby their local councils, and as a result, a number banned battery hen eggs from schools, care homes, town halls and workplace cafeterias (see, for example, LDP). The popular penetration of these ideas needs to be understood in a historical context where industrialised poultry farming has been an issue in Britain since at least 1848 when it was one of the contributing factors to the establishment of the RSPCA (Freeman). A century after Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle (published in 1906) exposed the realities of the slaughterhouse, and several decades since Peter Singer’s landmark Animal Liberation (1975) and Tom Regan’s The Case for Animal Rights (1983) posited the immorality of the mistreatment of animals in food production, it could be suggested that Al Gore’s film An Inconvenient Truth (released in 2006) added considerably to the recent concern regarding the ethics of industrial agriculture. Consciousness-raising bestselling books such as Jim Mason and Peter Singer’s The Ethics of What We Eat and Michael Pollan’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma (both published in 2006), do indeed ‘close the loop’ in this way in their discussions, by concluding that intensive food production methods used since the 1950s are not only inhumane and damage public health, but are also damaging an environment under pressure from climate change. In comparison, the use of forced labour and human trafficking in food production has attracted far less mainstream media, celebrity or public attention. It could be posited that this is, in part, because no direct relationship to the environment and climate change and, therefore, direct link to our own existence in the West, has been popularised. Kevin Bales, who has been described as a modern abolitionist, estimates that there are currently more than 27 million people living in conditions of slavery and exploitation against their wills—twice as many as during the 350-year long trans-Atlantic slave trade. Bales also chillingly reveals that, worldwide, the number of slaves is increasing, with contemporary individuals so inexpensive to purchase in relation to the value of their production that they are disposable once the slaveholder has used them. Alongside sex slavery, many other prevalent examples of contemporary slavery are concerned with food production (Weissbrodt et al; Miers). Bales and Soodalter, for example, describe how across Asia and Africa, adults and children are enslaved to catch and process fish and shellfish for both human consumption and cat food. Other campaigners have similarly exposed how the cocoa in chocolate is largely produced by child slave labour on the Ivory Coast (Chalke; Off), and how considerable amounts of exported sugar, cereals and other crops are slave-produced in certain countries. In 2003, some 32 per cent of US shoppers identified themselves as LOHAS “lifestyles of health and sustainability” consumers, who were, they said, willing to spend more for products that reflected not only ecological, but also social justice responsibility (McLaughlin). Research also confirms that “the pursuit of social objectives … can in fact furnish an organization with the competitive resources to develop effective marketing strategies”, with Doherty and Meehan showing how “social and ethical credibility” are now viable bases of differentiation and competitive positioning in mainstream consumer markets (311, 303). In line with this recognition, Fair Trade Certified goods are now available in British, European, US and, to a lesser extent, Australian supermarkets, and a number of global chains including Dunkin’ Donuts, McDonalds, Starbucks and Virgin airlines utilise Fair Trade coffee and teas in all, or parts of, their operations. Fair Trade Certification indicates that farmers receive a higher than commodity price for their products, workers have the right to organise, men and women receive equal wages, and no child labour is utilised in the production process (McLaughlin). Yet, despite some Western consumers reporting such issues having an impact upon their purchasing decisions, social justice has not become a significant issue of concern for most. The popular cookery publications discussed above devote little space to Fair Trade product marketing, much of which is confined to supermarket-produced adverzines promoting the Fair Trade products they stock, and international celebrity chefs have yet to focus attention on this issue. In Australia, discussion of contemporary slavery in the press is sparse, having surfaced in 2000-2001, prompted by UNICEF campaigns against child labour, and in 2007 and 2008 with the visit of a series of high profile anti-slavery campaigners (including Bales) to the region. The public awareness of food produced by forced labour and the troubling issue of human enslavement in general is still far below the level that climate change and ecological issues have achieved thus far in driving foodway evolution. This may change, however, if a ‘Slow’-inflected connection can be made between Western lifestyles and the plight of peoples hidden from our daily existence, but contributing daily to them. Concluding Remarks At this time of accelerating techno-cultural evolution, due in part to the pressures of climate change, it is the creative potential that human conscious awareness brings to bear on these challenges that is most valuable. Today, as in the caves at Lascaux, humanity is evolving new images and narratives to provide rational solutions to emergent challenges. As an example of this, new foodways and ways of thinking about them are beginning to evolve in response to the perceived problems of climate change. The current conscious transformation of food habits by some in the West might be, therefore, in James Lovelock’s terms, a moment of “revolutionary punctuation” (178), whereby rapid cultural adaption is being induced by the growing public awareness of impending crisis. It remains to be seen whether other urgent human problems can be similarly and creatively embraced, and whether this trend can spread to offer global solutions to them. References An Inconvenient Truth. Dir. Davis Guggenheim. Lawrence Bender Productions, 2006. Bales, Kevin. Disposable People: New Slavery in the Global Economy. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2004 (first published 1999). Bales, Kevin, and Ron Soodalter. The Slave Next Door: Human Trafficking and Slavery in America Today. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2009. Carson, Rachel. Silent Spring. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1962. Chalke, Steve. “Unfinished Business: The Sinister Story behind Chocolate.” The Age 18 Sep. 2007: 11. Cunningham, Stuart, and Graeme Turner. The Media and Communications in Australia Today. Crows Nest: Allen & Unwin, 2002. Davey, Gwenda Beed. “Foodways.” The Oxford Companion to Australian Folklore. Ed. Gwenda Beed Davey, and Graham Seal. Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 1993. 182–85. Doherty, Bob, and John Meehan. “Competing on Social Resources: The Case of the Day Chocolate Company in the UK Confectionery Sector.” Journal of Strategic Marketing 14.4 (2006): 299–313. Eshel, Gidon, and Pamela A. Martin. “Diet, Energy, and Global Warming.” Earth Interactions 10, paper 9 (2006): 1–17. Fowl Dinners. Exec. Prod. Nick Curwin and Zoe Collins. Dragonfly Film and Television Productions and Fresh One Productions, 2008. Freeman, Sarah. Mutton and Oysters: The Victorians and Their Food. London: Gollancz, 1989. Gould, S. J., and N. Eldredge. “Punctuated Equilibrium Comes of Age.” Nature 366 (1993): 223–27. (ICFFA) International Commission on the Future of Food and Agriculture. Manifesto on the Future of Food. Florence, Italy: Agenzia Regionale per lo Sviluppo e l’Innovazione nel Settore Agricolo Forestale and Regione Toscana, 2006. Jamie’s School Dinners. Dir. Guy Gilbert. Fresh One Productions, 2005. Jordan, Jennifer A. “The Heirloom Tomato as Cultural Object: Investigating Taste and Space.” Sociologia Ruralis 47.1 (2007): 20-41. Khan, Urmee. “Jamie Oliver’s School Dinners Improve Exam Results, Report Finds.” Telegraph 1 Feb. 2009. 24 Aug. 2009 < http://www.telegraph.co.uk/education/educationnews/4423132/Jamie-Olivers-school-dinners-improve-exam-results-report-finds.html >. Kloppenberg, Jack, Jr, Sharon Lezberg, Kathryn de Master, G. W. Stevenson, and John Henrickson. ‘Tasting Food, Tasting Sustainability: Defining the Attributes of an Alternative Food System with Competent, Ordinary People.” Human Organisation 59.2 (Jul. 2000): 177–86. (LDP) Liverpool Daily Post. “Battery Farm Eggs Banned from Schools and Care Homes.” Liverpool Daily Post 12 Jan. 2008. 24 Aug. 2009 < http://www.liverpooldailypost.co.uk/liverpool-news/regional-news/2008/01/12/battery-farm-eggs-banned-from-schools-and-care-homes-64375-20342259 >. Lovelock, James. The Ages of Gaia: A Biography of Our Living Earth. New York: Bantam, 1990 (first published 1988). Mason, Jim, and Peter Singer. The Ethics of What We Eat. Melbourne: Text Publishing, 2006. McLaughlin, Katy. “Is Your Grocery List Politically Correct? Food World’s New Buzzword Is ‘Sustainable’ Products.” The Wall Street Journal 17 Feb. 2004. 29 Aug. 2009 < http://www.globalexchange.org/campaigns/fairtrade/coffee/1732.html >. McMichael, Anthony J, John W Powles, Colin D Butler, and Ricardo Uauy. “Food, Livestock Production, Energy, Climate Change, and Health.” The Lancet 370 (6 Oct. 2007): 1253–63. Miers, Suzanne. “Contemporary Slavery”. A Historical Guide to World Slavery. Ed. Seymour Drescher, and Stanley L. Engerman. New York: Oxford University Press, 1998. Mintz, Sidney W. Tasting Food, Tasting Freedom: Excursions into Eating, Culture, and the Past. Boston: Beacon Press, 1994. Nussel, Jill. “Heating Up the Sources: Using Community Cookbooks in Historical Inquiry.” History Compass 4/5 (2006): 956–61. Off, Carol. Bitter Chocolate: Investigating the Dark Side of the World's Most Seductive Sweet. St Lucia: U of Queensland P, 2008. Paxson, Heather. “Slow Food in a Fat Society: Satisfying Ethical Appetites.” Gastronomica: The Journal of Food and Culture 5.1 (2005): 14–18. Pietrykowski, Bruce. “You Are What You Eat: The Social Economy of the Slow Food Movement.” Review of Social Economy 62:3 (2004): 307–21. Pollan, Michael. The Omnivore’s Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals. New York: The Penguin Press, 2006. Regan, Tom. The Case for Animal Rights. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983. Scholz, Christopher A., Thomas C. Johnson, Andrew S. Cohen, John W. King, John A. Peck, Jonathan T. Overpeck, Michael R. Talbot, Erik T. Brown, Leonard Kalindekafe, Philip Y. O. Amoako, Robert P. Lyons, Timothy M. Shanahan, Isla S. Castañeda, Clifford W. Heil, Steven L. Forman, Lanny R. McHargue, Kristina R. Beuning, Jeanette Gomez, and James Pierson. “East African Megadroughts between 135 and 75 Thousand Years Ago and Bearing on Early-modern Human Origins.” PNAS: Proceedings of the National Academy of the Sciences of the United States of America 104.42 (16 Oct. 2007): 16416–21. Sinclair, Upton. The Jungle. New York: Doubleday, Jabber & Company, 1906. Singer, Peter. Animal Liberation. New York: HarperCollins, 1975. (SFFB) Slow Food Foundation for Biodiversity. “Ark of Taste.” 2009. 24 Aug. 2009 < http://www.fondazioneslowfood.it/eng/arca/lista.lasso >. (UNISG) University of Gastronomic Sciences. “Who We Are.” 2009. 24 Aug. 2009 < http://www.unisg.it/eng/chisiamo.php >. Vileisis, Ann. Kitchen Literacy: How We Lost Knowledge of Where Food Comes From and Why We Need to Get It Back. Washington: Island Press/Shearwater Books, 2008. Weissbrodt, David, and Anti-Slavery International. Abolishing Slavery and its Contemporary Forms. New York and Geneva: Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights, United Nations, 2002. Zeder, Melinda A. “The Neolithic Macro-(R)evolution: Macroevolutionary Theory and the Study of Culture Change.” Journal of Archaeological Research 17 (2009): 1–63.

IntroductionFood Studies is a relatively recent area of research enquiry in Australia and Magazine Studies is even newer (Le Masurier and Johinke), with the consequence that Australian culinary magazines are only just beginning to be investigated. Moreover, although many major libraries have not thought such popular magazines worthy of sustained collection (Fox and Sornil), considering these publications is important. As de Certeau argues, it can be of considerable consequence to identify and analyse everyday practices (such as producing and reading popular magazines) that seem so minor and insignificant as to be unworthy of notice, as these practices have the ability to affect our lives. It is important in this case as these publications were part of the post-war gastronomic environment in Australia in which national tastes in domestic cookery became radically internationalised (Santich). To further investigate Australian magazines, as well as suggesting how these cosmopolitan eating habits became more widely embraced, this article will survey the various ways in which the idea of “abroad” is expressed in one Australian culinary serial from the post-war period, Australian Wines & Food Quarterly magazine, which was published from 1956 to 1960. The methodological approach taken is an historically-informed content analysis (Krippendorff) of relevant material from these magazines combined with germane media data (Hodder). All issues in the serial’s print run have been considered.Australian Post-War Culinary PublishingTo date, studies of 1950s writing in Australia have largely focused on literary and popular fiction (Johnson-Wood; Webby) and literary criticism (Bird; Dixon; Lee). There have been far fewer studies of non-fiction writing of any kind, although some serial publications from this time have attracted some attention (Bell; Lindesay; Ross; Sheridan; Warner-Smith; White; White). In line with studies internationally, groundbreaking work in Australian food history has focused on cookbooks, and includes work by Supski, who notes that despite the fact that buying cookbooks was “regarded as a luxury in the 1950s” (87), such publications were an important information source in terms of “developing, consolidating and extending foodmaking knowledge” at that time (85).It is widely believed that changes to Australian foodways were brought about by significant post-war immigration and the recipes and dishes these immigrants shared with neighbours, friends, and work colleagues and more widely afield when they opened cafes and restaurants (Newton; Newton; Manfredi). Although these immigrants did bring new culinary flavours and habits with them, the overarching rhetoric guiding population policy at this time was assimilation, with migrants expected to abandon their culture, language, and habits in favour of the dominant British-influenced ways of living (Postiglione). While migrants often did retain their foodways (Risson), the relationship between such food habits and the increasingly cosmopolitan Australian food culture is much more complex than the dominant cultural narrative would have us believe. It has been pointed out, for example, that while the haute cuisine of countries such as France, Italy, and Germany was much admired in Australia and emulated in expensive dining (Brien and Vincent), migrants’ own preference for their own dishes instead of Anglo-Australian choices, was not understood (Postiglione). Duruz has added how individual diets are eclectic, “multi-layered and hybrid” (377), incorporating foods from both that person’s own background with others available for a range of reasons including availability, cost, taste, and fashion. In such an environment, popular culinary publishing, in terms of cookbooks, specialist magazines, and recipe and other food-related columns in general magazines and newspapers, can be posited to be another element contributing to this change.Australian Wines & Food QuarterlyAustralian Wines & Food Quarterly (AWFQ) is, as yet, a completely unexamined publication, and there appears to be only three complete sets of this magazine held in public collections. It is important to note that, at the time it was launched in the mid-1950s, food writing played a much less significant part in Australian popular publishing than it does today, with far fewer cookbooks released than today, and women’s magazines and the women’s pages of newspapers containing only small recipe sections. In this environment, a new specialist culinary magazine could be seen to be timely, an audacious gamble, or both.All issues of this magazine were produced and printed in, and distributed from, Melbourne, Australia. Although no sales or distribution figures are available, production was obviously a struggle, with only 15 issues published before the magazine folded at the end of 1960. The title of the magazine changed over this time, and issue release dates are erratic, as is the method in which volumes and issues are numbered. Although the number of pages varied from 32 up to 52, and then less once again, across the magazine’s life, the price was steadily reduced, ending up at less than half the original cover price. All issues were produced and edited by Donald Wallace, who also wrote much of the content, with contributions from family members, including his wife, Mollie Wallace, to write, illustrate, and produce photographs for the magazine.When considering the content of the magazine, most is quite familiar in culinary serials today, although AWFQ’s approach was radically innovative in Australia at this time when cookbooks, women’s magazines, and newspaper cookery sections focused on recipes, many of which were of cakes, biscuits, and other sweet baking (Bannerman). AWFQ not only featured many discursive essays and savory meals, it also featured much wine writing and review-style content as well as information about restaurant dining in each issue.Wine-Related ContentWine is certainly the most prominent of the content areas, with most issues of the magazine containing more wine-related content than any other. Moreover, in the early issues, most of the food content is about preparing dishes and/or meals that could be consumed alongside wines, although the proportion of food content increases as the magazine is published. This wine-related content takes a clearly international perspective on this topic. While many articles and advertisements, for example, narrate the long history of Australian wine growing—which goes back to early 19th century—these articles argue that Australia's vineyards and wineries measure up to international, and especially French, examples. In one such example, the author states that: “from the earliest times Australia’s wines have matched up to world standard” (“Wine” 25). This contest can be situated in Australia, where a leading restaurant (Caprice in Sydney) could be seen to not only “match up to” but also, indeed to, “challenge world standards” by serving Australian wines instead of imports (“Sydney” 33). So good, indeed, are Australian wines that when foreigners are surprised by their quality, this becomes newsworthy. This is evidenced in the following excerpt: “Nearly every English businessman who has come out to Australia in the last ten years … has diverted from his main discussion to comment on the high quality of Australian wine” (Seppelt, 3). In a similar nationalist vein, many articles feature overseas experts’ praise of Australian wines. Thus, visiting Italian violinist Giaconda de Vita shows a “keen appreciation of Australian wines” (“Violinist” 30), British actor Robert Speaight finds Grange Hermitage “an ideal wine” (“High Praise” 13), and the Swedish ambassador becomes their advocate (Ludbrook, “Advocate”).This competition could also be located overseas including when Australian wines are served at prestigious overseas events such as a dinner for members of the Overseas Press Club in New York (Australian Wines); sold from Seppelt’s new London cellars (Melbourne), or the equally new Australian Wine Centre in Soho (Australia Will); or, featured in exhibitions and promotions such as the Lausanne Trade Fair (Australia is Guest;“Wines at Lausanne), or the International Wine Fair in Yugoslavia (Australia Wins).Australia’s first Wine Festival was held in Melbourne in 1959 (Seppelt, “Wine Week”), the joint focus of which was the entertainment and instruction of the some 15,000 to 20,000 attendees who were expected. At its centre was a series of free wine tastings aiming to promote Australian wines to the “professional people of the community, as well as the general public and the housewife” (“Melbourne” 8), although admission had to be recommended by a wine retailer. These tastings were intended to build up the prestige of Australian wine when compared to international examples: “It is the high quality of our wines that we are proud of. That is the story to pass on—that Australian wine, at its best, is at least as good as any in the world and better than most” (“Melbourne” 8).There is also a focus on promoting wine drinking as a quotidian habit enjoyed abroad: “We have come a long way in less than twenty years […] An enormous number of husbands and wives look forward to a glass of sherry when the husband arrives home from work and before dinner, and a surprising number of ordinary people drink table wine quite un-selfconsciously” (Seppelt, “Advance” 3). However, despite an acknowledged increase in wine appreciation and drinking, there is also acknowledgement that this there was still some way to go in this aim as, for example, in the statement: “There is no reason why the enjoyment of table wines should not become an Australian custom” (Seppelt, “Advance” 4).The authority of European experts and European habits is drawn upon throughout the publication whether in philosophically-inflected treatises on wine drinking as a core part of civilised behaviour, or practically-focused articles about wine handling and serving (Keown; Seabrook; “Your Own”). Interestingly, a number of Australian experts are also quoted as stressing that these are guidelines, not strict rules: Crosby, for instance, states: “There is no ‘right wine.’ The wine to drink is the one you like, when and how you like it” (19), while the then-manager of Lindemans Wines is similarly reassuring in his guide to entertaining, stating that “strict adherence to the rules is not invariably wise” (Mackay 3). Tingey openly acknowledges that while the international-style of regularly drinking wine had “given more dignity and sophistication to the Australian way of life” (35), it should not be shrouded in snobbery.Food-Related ContentThe magazine’s cookery articles all feature international dishes, and certain foreign foods, recipes, and ways of eating and dining are clearly identified as “gourmet”. Cheese is certainly the most frequently mentioned “gourmet” food in the magazine, and is featured in every issue. These articles can be grouped into the following categories: understanding cheese (how it is made and the different varieties enjoyed internationally), how to consume cheese (in relation to other food and specific wines, and in which particular parts of a meal, again drawing on international practices), and cooking with cheese (mostly in what can be identified as “foreign” recipes).Some of this content is produced by Kraft Foods, a major advertiser in the magazine, and these articles and recipes generally focus on urging people to eat more, and varied international kinds of cheese, beyond the ubiquitous Australian cheddar. In terms of advertorials, both Kraft cheeses (as well as other advertisers) are mentioned by brand in recipes, while the companies are also profiled in adjacent articles. In the fourth issue, for instance, a full-page, infomercial-style advertisement, noting the different varieties of Kraft cheese and how to serve them, is published in the midst of a feature on cooking with various cheeses (“Cooking with Cheese”). This includes recipes for Swiss Cheese fondue and two pasta recipes: spaghetti and spicy tomato sauce, and a so-called Italian spaghetti with anchovies.Kraft’s company history states that in 1950, it was the first business in Australia to manufacture and market rindless cheese. Through these AWFQ advertisements and recipes, Kraft aggressively marketed this innovation, as well as its other new products as they were launched: mayonnaise, cheddar cheese portions, and Cracker Barrel Cheese in 1954; Philadelphia Cream Cheese, the first cream cheese to be produced commercially in Australia, in 1956; and, Coon Cheese in 1957. Not all Kraft products were seen, however, as “gourmet” enough for such a magazine. Kraft’s release of sliced Swiss Cheese in 1957, and processed cheese slices in 1959, for instance, both passed unremarked in either the magazine’s advertorial or recipes.An article by the Australian Dairy Produce Board urging consumers to “Be adventurous with Cheese” presented general consumer information including the “origin, characteristics and mode of serving” cheese accompanied by a recipe for a rich and exotic-sounding “Wine French Dressing with Blue Cheese” (Kennedy 18). This was followed in the next issue by an article discussing both now familiar and not-so familiar European cheese varieties: “Monterey, Tambo, Feta, Carraway, Samsoe, Taffel, Swiss, Edam, Mozzarella, Pecorino-Romano, Red Malling, Cacio Cavallo, Blue-Vein, Roman, Parmigiano, Kasseri, Ricotta and Pepato” (“Australia’s Natural” 23). Recipes for cheese fondues recur through the magazine, sometimes even multiple times in the same issue (see, for instance, “Cooking With Cheese”; “Cooking With Wine”; Pain). In comparison, butter, although used in many AWFQ’s recipes, was such a common local ingredient at this time that it was only granted one article over the entire run of the magazine, and this was largely about the much more unusual European-style unsalted butter (“An Expert”).Other international recipes that were repeated often include those for pasta (always spaghetti) as well as mayonnaise made with olive oil. Recurring sweets and desserts include sorbets and zabaglione from Italy, and flambéd crepes suzettes from France. While tabletop cooking is the epitome of sophistication and described as an international technique, baked Alaska (ice cream nestled on liquor-soaked cake, and baked in a meringue shell), hailing from America, is the most featured recipe in the magazine. Asian-inspired cuisine was rarely represented and even curry—long an Anglo-Australian staple—was mentioned only once in the magazine, in an article reprinted from the South African The National Hotelier, and which included a recipe alongside discussion of blending spices (“Curry”).Coffee was regularly featured in both articles and advertisements as a staple of the international gourmet kitchen (see, for example, Bancroft). Articles on the history, growing, marketing, blending, roasting, purchase, percolating and brewing, and serving of coffee were common during the magazine’s run, and are accompanied with advertisements for Bushell’s, Robert Timms’s and Masterfoods’s coffee ranges. AWFQ believed Australia’s growing coffee consumption was the result of increased participation in quality internationally-influenced dining experiences, whether in restaurants, the “scores of colourful coffee shops opening their doors to a new generation” (“Coffee” 39), or at home (Adams). Tea, traditionally the Australian hot drink of choice, is not mentioned once in the magazine (Brien).International Gourmet InnovationsAlso featured in the magazine are innovations in the Australian food world: new places to eat; new ways to cook, including a series of sometimes quite unusual appliances; and new ways to shop, with a profile of the first American-style supermarkets to open in Australia in this period. These are all seen as overseas innovations, but highly suited to Australia. The laws then controlling the service of alcohol are also much discussed, with many calls to relax the licensing laws which were seen as inhibiting civilised dining and drinking practices. The terms this was often couched in—most commonly in relation to the Olympic Games (held in Melbourne in 1956), but also in relation to tourism in general—are that these restrictive regulations were an embarrassment for Melbourne when considered in relation to international practices (see, for example, Ludbrook, “Present”). This was at a time when the nightly hotel closing time of 6.00 pm (and the performance of the notorious “six o’clock swill” in terms of drinking behaviour) was only repealed in Victoria in 1966 (Luckins).Embracing scientific approaches in the kitchen was largely seen to be an American habit. The promotion of the use of electricity in the kitchen, and the adoption of new electric appliances (Gas and Fuel; Gilbert “Striving”), was described not only as a “revolution that is being wrought in our homes”, but one that allowed increased levels of personal expression and fulfillment, in “increas[ing] the time and resources available to the housewife for the expression of her own personality in the management of her home” (Gilbert, “The Woman’s”). This mirrors the marketing of these modes of cooking and appliances in other media at this time, including in newspapers, radio, and other magazines. This included features on freezing food, however AWFQ introduced an international angle, by suggesting that recipe bases could be pre-prepared, frozen, and then defrosted to use in a range of international cookery (“Fresh”; “How to”; Kelvinator Australia). The then-new marvel of television—another American innovation—is also mentioned in the magazine ("Changing concepts"), although other nationalities are also invoked. The history of the French guild the Confrerie de la Chaine des Roitisseurs in 1248 is, for instance, used to promote an electric spit roaster that was part of a state-of-the-art gas stove (“Always”), and there are also advertisements for such appliances as the Gaggia expresso machine (“Lets”) which draw on both Italian historical antecedence and modern science.Supermarket and other forms of self-service shopping are identified as American-modern, with Australia’s first shopping mall lauded as the epitome of utopian progressiveness in terms of consumer practice. Judged to mark “a new era in Australian retailing” (“Regional” 12), the opening of Chadstone Regional Shopping Centre in suburban Melbourne on 4 October 1960, with its 83 tenants including “giant” supermarket Dickens, and free parking for 2,500 cars, was not only “one of the most up to date in the world” but “big even by American standards” (“Regional” 12, italics added), and was hailed as a step in Australia “catching up” with the United States in terms of mall shopping (“Regional” 12). This shopping centre featured international-styled dining options including Bistro Shiraz, an outdoor terrace restaurant that planned to operate as a bistro-snack bar by day and full-scale restaurant at night, and which was said to offer diners a “Persian flavor” (“Bistro”).ConclusionAustralian Wines & Food Quarterly was the first of a small number of culinary-focused Australian publications in the 1950s and 1960s which assisted in introducing a generation of readers to information about what were then seen as foreign foods and beverages only to be accessed and consumed abroad as well as a range of innovative international ideas regarding cookery and dining. For this reason, it can be posited that the magazine, although modest in the claims it made, marked a revolutionary moment in Australian culinary publishing. As yet, only slight traces can be found of its editor and publisher, Donald Wallace. The influence of AWFQ is, however, clearly evident in the two longer-lived magazines that were launched in the decade after AWFQ folded: Australian Gourmet Magazine and The Epicurean. Although these serials had a wider reach, an analysis of the 15 issues of AWFQ adds to an understanding of how ideas of foods, beverages, and culinary ideas and trends, imported from abroad were presented to an Australian readership in the 1950s, and contributed to how national foodways were beginning to change during that decade.ReferencesAdams, Jillian. “Australia’s American Coffee Culture.” Australian Journal of Popular Culture 2.1 (2012): 23–36.“Always to Roast on a Turning Spit.” The Magazine of Good Living: Australian Wines and Food 4.2 (1960): 17.“An Expert on Butter.” The Magazine of Good Living: The Australian Wine & Food 4.1 (1960): 11.“Australia Is Guest Nation at Lausanne.” The Magazine of Good Living: Australian Wines and Food 4.2 (1960): 18–19.“Australia’s Natural Cheeses.” The Magazine of Good Living: The Australian Wine & Food 4.1 (1960): 23.“Australia Will Be There.” The Magazine of Good Living: Australian Wines and Food 4.2 (1960): 14.“Australian Wines Served at New York Dinner.” Australian Wines & Food Quarterly 1.5 (1958): 16.“Australia Wins Six Gold Medals.” Australian Wines & Food: The Magazine of Good Living 2.11 (1959/1960): 3.Bancroft, P.A. “Let’s Make Some Coffee.” The Magazine of Good Living: The Australian Wine & Food 4.1 (1960): 10. 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Central to this research lays the concept of private sector-led urban development projects (Heurkens, 2010). Such projects involve project developers taking a leading role and local authorities adopting a facilitating role, in managing the development of an urban area, based on a clear public-private role division. Such a development strategy is quite common in Anglo-Saxon urban development practices, but is less known in Continental European practices. Nonetheless, since the beginning of the millennium such a development strategy also occurred in the Netherlands in the form of ‘concessions’. However, remarkably little empirical knowledge is available about how public and private actors collaborate on and manage private sector-led urban development projects. Moreover, it remains unclear what the effects of such projects are. This dissertation provides an understanding of the various characteristics of private sector-led urban development projects by conducting empirical case study research in the institutional contexts of the Netherlands and the UK. The research provides an answer to the following research question: What can we learn from private sector-led urban development projects in the Netherlands and UK in terms of the collaborative and managerial roles of public and private actors, and the effects of their (inter)actions? Indications for a market-oriented Dutch urban development practice Urban development practice in the Netherlands has been subject to changes pointing towards more private sector involvement in the built environment in the past decades. Although the current economic recession might indicate otherwise, there are several motives that indicate a continuation of private sector involvement and a private leadership role in Dutch urban development projects in the future. First, a shift towards more market-oriented development practice is the result of an evolutionary process of increased ‘neoliberalization’ and the adoption of Anglo-Saxon principles in Dutch society. Despite its Rhineland roots with a focus on welfare provision, in the Netherlands several neoliberal principles (privatization, decentralization, deregulation) have been adopted by government and incorporated in the management of organizations (Bakker et al., 2005). Hence, market institutionalization on the one hand, and rising civic emancipation on the other, in current Western societies prevents a return towards hierarchical governance. Second, the result of such changes is the emergence of a market-oriented type of planning practice based on the concept of ‘development planning’. Public-Private Partnerships and the ‘forward integration’ of market parties (De Zeeuw, 2007) enforce the role of market actors. In historical perspective, Boelens et al. (2006) argue that Dutch spatial planning always has been characterized by public-private collaborations in which governments facilitated private and civic entrepreneurship. Therefore, post-war public-led spatial planning with necessary government intervention was a ‘temporary hiccup’, an exception to the rule. Third, the European Commission expresses concerns about the hybrid role of public actors in Dutch institutionalized PPP joint ventures. EU legislation opts for formal public-private role divisions in realizing urban projects based on Anglo-Saxon law that comply with the legislative tendering principles of competition, transparency, equality, and public legitimacy. Fourth, experiences with joint ventures in the Netherlands are less positive as often is advocated. Such institutionalized public-private entities have seldom generated the assumed added value, caused by misconceptions about the objectives of both partners grounded in incompatible value systems. This results in contra-productive levels of distrust, time-consuming partnership formations, lack of transparency, and compromising decision-making processes (Teisman & Klijn, 2002), providing a need for other forms of collaboration. Finally, current financial retrenchments in the public sector and debates about the possible abundance of Dutch active land development policies point towards a lean and mean government that moves away from risk-bearing participation and investment in urban projects and leaves this to the market. Importantly, Van der Krabben (2011b) argues that the Dutch active public land development policies can be considered as an international exception, and advocates for facilitating land development policies. In this light, it becomes highly relevant to study private sector-led urban development as a future Dutch urban development strategy. Integrative urban management approach This research is rooted in the research school of Urban Area Development within the Department of Real Estate and Housing at the Faculty of Architecture (Delft University of Technology). It is a relatively young academic domain which views urban development most profoundly as a complex management assignment (Bruil et al., 2004; Franzen et al., 2011). This academic school uses an integrative perspective with a strong practice-orientation and carries out solution-oriented design research. Here, the integration involves bridging various actor interests, spatial functions, spatial scales, academic domains, knowledge and skills, development goals, and links process with content aspects. Such a perspective does justice to complex societal processes. Therefore it provides a fruitful ground for studying urban development aimed at developing conceptual knowledge and product for science and practice. Such integrative perspective and practice-orientation forms the basis of this research and has been applied in the following manner. In order to create an understanding of the roles of public and private actors in private sector-led urban development, this research takes a management perspective based on an integrative management approach. This involves viewing management more broadly as ‘any type of direct influencing’ urban development projects, and therefore aims at bridging often separated management theories (Osborne, 2000a). Hence, an integrative management approach assists in both understanding urban development practices and projects and constructing useful conceptual tools for practitioners and academics. Integrative approaches attempt to combine a number of different elements into a more holistic management approach (Black & Porter, 2000). Importantly, it does not view the management of projects in isolation but in its entire complexity and dynamics. Therefore, our management approach combines two integrative management theories; the open systems theory (De Leeuw, 2002) and contingency theory. The former provides opportunities to study the management of a project in a structured manner. The latter emphasizes that there is no universally effective way of managing and recognizes the importance of contextual circumstances. Hence, an integrative management approach favors incorporating theories from multiple academic domains such as political science, economics, law, business administration, and organizational and management concepts. Hence, it moves away from the classical academic division between planning theory and property theory, and organization and management theories. It positions itself in between such academic domains, and aims at bridging theoretical viewpoints by following the concept of planning ánd markets (Alexander, 2001) rather than concepts such as ‘planning versus markets’, public versus private sector, and organization versus management. Also, such an integrative view values the complexity and dynamics of empirical urban development practices. More specifically, this research studies urban development projects as object, as urban areas are the focus point of spatial intervention and public-private interaction (Daamen, 2010), and thus collaboration and management. Here, public planning processes and private development processes merge with each other. Thus, our research continues to build upon the importance of studying and reflecting on empirical practices and projects (e.g. Healey, 2006). In addition to these authors, this research does so by using meaningful integrative concepts that reflect empirical realities of urban projects. Thereby, this research serves to bridge management sciences with management practices (Van Aken, 2004; Mintzberg, 2010) through iterative processes of reflecting on science and practice. Moreover, the integrative management approach applied in this research assists in filling an academic gap, namely the lack of management knowledge about public-private interaction in urban development projects. Despite the vast amount of literature on the governance of planning practices (e.g. DiGaetano & Strom, 2003), and Public-Private Partnerships (e.g. Osborne, 2000b), remarkable little knowledge exists about what shifting public-private relationships mean for day-to-day management by public and private actors in development projects. Hence, here we follow the main argument made by public administration scholar Klijn (2008) who claims that it is such direct actor influence that brings about the most significant change to the built environment. An integrative urban management model (see Figure 2.3) based on the open systems approach has been constructed which forms a conceptual representation of empirical private sectorled urban development projects. This model serves as an analytical tool to comprehend the complexity of managing such projects. In this research, several theoretical insights about publicprivate relations and roles are used to understand different contextual and organizational factors that affect the management of private sector-led urban development projects. Hence, a project context exists within different often country-specific institutional environments (e.g. the Netherlands and UK). In this research, contextual aspects that to a degree determine the way public and private actors inter-organize urban projects, consist of economics & politics, governance cultures, and planning systems and policies. Hence, institutional values are deeply rooted in social welfare models (Nadin & Stead, 2008). For instance, the differences between Anglo-Saxon and Rhineland model principles also determine public-private relationships. However, the process of neoliberalization (Hackworth, 2007) and subsequent adaptation of neoliberal political ideologies (Harvey, 2005) has created quite similar governance arrangements in Western countries. Nevertheless, institutional rules incorporated in planning systems, laws and policies often remain country-specific. But, market-oriented planning, involving ‘planners as market actors’ (Adams & Tiesdell, 2010) intervening and operating within market systems, have become the most commonly shared feature of contemporary Western urban development practices (Carmona et al., 2009). In this research, the project organization focuses on institutional aspects and interorganizational arrangements that structure Public-Private Partnerships (Bult-Spiering & Dewulf, 2002). It involves studying organizational tasks and responsibilities, financial risks and revenues, and legal rules and requirements. Inter-organizational arrangements condition the way public and private actors manage projects. Hence, such arrangements can be placed on a public-private spectrum (Börzel & Risse, 2002) which indicates different power relations in terms of public and private autonomy and dominance (Savitch, 1997) in making planning decisions. These public-private power relations are reflected in different Public-Private Partnership arrangements (Bennet et al., 2000) in urban development projects. As a result, in some contexts these partnerships arrangements are formalized into organizational vehicles or legal contracts, in others there is an emphasis on informal partnerships and interaction. The lack of management knowledge on private sector-led urban development projects, and our view of management as any type of direct influencing, results in constructing a conceptual public-private urban management model (see Figure SUM.1). This model is based on both theoretical concepts and empirical reflection. In this research, the management of project processes by public and private actors contains applying both management activities and instruments. Project management (Wijnen et al., 2004) includes development stage-oriented initiating, designing, planning, and operating activities. Process management (Teisman, 2003) includes interaction-oriented negotiating, decision-making, and communicating activities. Management tools consist of legal-oriented shaping, regulating, stimulating, and capacity building planning tools (Adams et al., 2004). And management resources consist of crucial necessities (Burie, 1978) for realizing urban projects like land, capital and knowledge. In essence, all these management measures can be applied by public and private actors to influence (private sector-led) urban development projects. These management measures can be used by actors to reach project effects. In this research, project effects are perceived as judgment criteria for indicating the success of the management of private sector-led urban development projects. They consist of cooperation effectiveness, process efficiency, and spatial quality. Effectiveness involves the degree to which objectives are achieved and problems are resolved. Ef ficiency is the degree to which the process is considered as efficiently realizing projects within time and budget. Finally, spatial quality is the degree to which the project contributes to responding to user, experience and future values of involved actors (Hooijmeijer et al., 2001). Such process and product effects are a crucial addition to understand the results of private sector-led urban development projects. Comparative case study research using a lesson-drawing method This research systematically analyzes and compares private sector-led urban development cases in both the Netherlands and the UK in a specific methodological way. In essence, this study is an empirical comparative case study research using a lesson-drawing method. Hence, case studies allow for an empirical inquiry that investigates a contemporary phenomenon within its real life context (Yin, 2003). Such a qualitative approach is very suited for the purposes of this research as it enables revealing empirical collaborative and managerial mechanisms within private sector-led urban development projects. The reason to include studying the UK lies is the fact that it can be considered as a market-oriented development practice, from which valuable lessons can be drawn for the Netherlands. Thereby, this research places itself in a longer tradition of Dutch interests in UK planning and development (e.g. Hobma et al., 2008). Hence, this research aims at drawing lessons in the form of ‘inspiration’ from practices and projects, as opposed to the more far-reaching transplantation of spatial policies (e.g. Janssen-Jansen et al., 2008). However, in order to draw meaningful empirical lessons there is a need to indicate whether they are context-dependent or -independent. This requires systematically comparing the institutional planning practices of both countries by indicating differences and similarities between the Netherlands and the UK. Based on these methodological principles ten Dutch and two UK of private sector-led urban development cases are selected and studied. The Dutch cases focus on scope over depth aimed at sketching the phenomenon of ‘area concessions’ in both inner-city and urban fringe projects. The UK cases focus on depth over scope aimed at understanding the applicability of a private sector-led approach in complex large-scale inner-city projects. As techniques the case study research uses document reviews, semi-structured interviews, project visits, and data mapping. Comparing Dutch and UK planning and urban development practices The institutional context of urban development in the Netherlands and the UK shows some structural differences, despite the fact that such contexts are often subject to change. For instance, the Dutch planning system uses Napoleonic codified law based on a constitution with abstract law principles as rule, and a limited role of judicial power. The UK planning system is based on British common law lacking a constitution, and uses law-making-as-we-go as judges act as law-makers. In terms of spatial planning, the Netherlands is characterized by binding land use plans within a limited-imperative system based on legal certainty. Dutch spatial planning can be labelled as ‘permitted planning’ based on ‘comprehensive integrative model’ (Dühr et al., 2010) which involves hierarchically coordinated and related public sector spatial plans. UK spatial planning has no binding land use plan, places importance on material considerations based on discretionary authority and flexibility. Historically, UK’s spatial planning can be labelled as ‘development-oriented planning’ based on a ‘land use management model’ with a focus on public sector coordinated planning policies. Moreover, Dutch and UK urban development also differ in terms of public and private roles in organizing and managing development (Heurkens, 2009). In the Netherlands, local governments are active bodies using spatial plans, active land development policies and public investment to develop cities. The private sector often operates reactively and is historically focused on the physical realization of projects. In general, public-private decision-making processes are based on reaching consensus, development project coordination typically involves ‘collaboration models’, and management is focused on process as product outcomes. In the UK, local government uses relatively less regulations and investment to develop cities, thereby facilitating market parties. The development industry is a mature sector, actively initiating and investing in projects. Decision-making is characterized by negotiations, and the organization of projects is often based on a clear formal public-private role division. Despite such a generic Dutch-UK comparison being of crucial importance to this research, it does no justice to increasing similarities between European planning practices. Moreover, such institutional contexts evolve as a result of changing planning priorities in each country. For instance, some basic characteristics of the UK planning system attracted the attention of Dutch planners, including comprehensive principles for project coordination, private sector involvement and negotiations, options for the settlement of ‘planning gain’, packaging interests, development-oriented planning, and discretion for planning decisions (Spaans, 2005). Hence, such more market-oriented planning principles have become valuable and sometimes necessary mechanisms to effectively cope with an increasingly less public-led and more private sector-led Dutch urban development practice. Empirical findings from Dutch private sector-led urban development cases Urban development practice in the Netherlands since the year 2000 witnessed an increased use of the concession model. Hence, this is the Dutch definition for private sector-led urban development. It can best be characterized as a contract form between public and private parties which involves the transfer of risks, revenues, responsibilities for the plan, land and real estate development to private developers based on pre-defined set of public requirements (Gijzen, 2009). In theory (Van Rooy, 2007; Van de Klundert, 2008; Heurkens et al., 2008) this collaboration model holds promising advantages of being a more effective, efficient and transparent strategy to achieve a high quality built environment. Nonetheless, possible disadvantages like the lack of public ‘steering’, dependency of market actors and circumstances, inflexible contracts, a project management orientation, and a stern public-private relationship also are mentioned. Moreover, conditions for the application of concessions in theory involve a manageable project scale and duration, minimal political and societal complexity, and maximum freedom for private actors. Motives for choosing concessions are the lack of public labor capacity and financial development means, risk transfer to private actors, increasing private initiatives and private land ownership. Hence, in theory public and private roles in the concession model are considered as strictly separated. However, there is a lack of structural empirical understanding and evidence for such theoretical assumptions. Therefore, empirical cases in Amsterdam, The Hague, Enschede, Maassluis, Middelburg, Naaldwijk, Rotterdam, Tilburg, Utrecht, and Velsen (see Table 5.1) are carried out. This includes studying private sector-led projects in both inner-city and urban fringe locations. The main conclusions based on cross-case study findings of these ten Dutch projects are highlighted here. Notice that public-private interaction and collaboration remains of vital importance in Dutch private sector-led urban development projects. Despite the formal contractual separation of public and private tasks and responsibilities, in practice close informal cooperation can be witnessed, especially in the early development stages. Moreover, public actors do not remain as risk free as theory suggests, because unfavorable market circumstances can cause development delays affecting the living environment of inhabitants. Furthermore, it seems that constructing and using flexible public requirements with some non-negotiable rules is an effective condition for realizing public objectives during the process. In terms of management, most projects are hardly considered as solely private sector-led, as they involve a substantial amount of public management influence. For instance, project management activities include a dominant role of municipalities in initiating and operating the development. Process management activities are carried out by both actors, as they involve close public-private interactions. Management tools are mostly used by public actors to shape and regulate development with a limited conscious usage of stimulating and capacity building tools. Using the management resources land, capital and knowledge are mainly a private affair. In terms of effects, the concession model by actors is considered as an effective instrument, but not necessarily results in efficient processes. The general perception of public, private and civic actors about the project’s spatial quality level is positive. In addition, actors were asked about their cooperation experiences. Often mentioned problems include a ‘we against them relationship’, lack of public role consistency, thin line between plan judgment and control, public manager’s commitment and competency, communication with local communities, and lack of public management opportunities. Based on the empirical case studies, most conditions for applying concessions are confirmed. However, the successful inner-city development projects in Amsterdam and Enschede indicate that a private sector-led approach can also be applied to more complex urban development projects within cities. Empirical findings from UK’s private sector-led urban development cases Urban development practice in the UK often is labelled as urban regeneration. Historically, it is strongly shaped by neoliberal political ideology of the Conservative Thatcher government in the 1980s. But it also is influenced by New Labour ideologies favoring the Third Way (Giddens, 1998) aimed at aligning economic, social and environmental policies. However, as a result of these institutional characteristics, the UK is strongly shaped by the understanding that most development is undertaken by private interests or by public bodies acting very much like private interests (Nadin et al., 2008). In general, local authorities depend on initiatives and investments of property developers and investors, because public financial resources and planning powers to actively develop land are limited. As a result, development control of private developments is a concept deeply embedded in development practice. Several legal instruments such as Section 106 agreements are used to establish planning gain by asking developer contributions for public functions. Moreover, urban development in the UK has a strong informal partnership culture, and simultaneously builds upon a strict formal legal public-private role division. These UK urban development practice characteristics provide valid reasons to study private sector-led urban development projects in more detail. The empirical cases of private sector-led urban development projects in the UK are Bristol Harbourside and Liverpool One. They represent mid-2000s strategic inner-city developments with a mixed-use functional program, and therefore possible high complexity. As such, they are relevant urban projects for drawing lessons for the Netherlands. The main conclusions based on cross-case study findings of the UK projects are discussed here. The case contexts show that politics and the often changeable nature of planning policies can have a major influence on the organization and management of development projects. Hence, strong and effective political leadership is considered as a crucial success factor. Changing policies result in re-establishing development conditions resulting in new publicprivate negotiations. In terms of organization, the cases indeed show that local authorities do not take on development risks. Moreover, revenue sharing with private actors is absent or limited to what the actors agree upon in development packages. Furthermore, local authorities encourage all kinds of partnerships with other public, private or civic stakeholders in order to generate development support and raise funds. In terms of management, local authorities use different management measures to influence projects. The cases indicate that public actors are able to influence private sector-led developments and thereby achieve public planning objectives. Importantly, public actors use all kinds of managing tools to shape and stimulate development; they do not limit themselves to regulation but also build capacity for development. However, the largest share of managing the project takes place on behalf of project developers. Private actors manage projects from initial design towards even public space operation (Liverpool). Thereby, they work with long-term investment business models increasing private commitment. In terms of effects, the cases show that although the projects are carried out effectively and achieve high quality levels, the process efficiency lacks behind due to lengthy negotiations. In conclusion, the actors’ experiences with the private sector-led urban development projects indicate some problems including; the financial dependency on private actors, lack of financial incentives for public actors, lack of awareness of civic demands, lack of controlling public opposition, long negotiation processes, and absence of skilled public managers. Moreover, the actors indicate some crucial conditions for a private sectorled approach including; flexible general public guidelines, informal partnerships and joint working, public and private leadership roles and skills, professional attitude and long term commitment of private actors, involvement of local communities, separating public planning and development roles, handling political pressures, and favorable market circumstances. Empirical lessons, improvements and inspiration Some general conclusions from the Dutch and UK case comparison can be drawn (see Table 8.1). The influence of the project’s context in the UK seems to be higher than in the Netherlands, especially political powers and changeable policies influence projects. The organizational role division in UK projects seems to be stricter than in the Dutch projects, where public requirements sometimes are also formulated in more detail. The actor’s management in the Dutch cases is slightly less private sector-led than in the UK, where local authorities and developers are more aware of how to use management measures at their disposal. The project effects show quite some resemblance; effectiveness and spatial quality can be achieved, while efficiency remains difficult to achieve due to the negotiation culture. Here, important empirical lessons learned from cases in both countries are discussed aimed at formulating possible solutions for perceived Dutch problems. The problematic Dutch ‘we against them relationship’ between actors in the UK is handled by a close collaboration. Developers organize regular informative and interactive design meetings with local authorities, sharing ideas in a ‘joint-up working’ atmosphere. The lack of public role consistency in the UK is resolved by local authorities that develop a clear schedule of spatial requirements which provides certainty. Moreover, room for negotiations allows for the flexibility to react on changed circumstances. The thin line between judgment and control of plans is not commonly recognized in the UK cases. Local authorities tend to respect that developers need room to carry out development activities on their own professional insights, and merely control if developers deliver ‘product specifications’ in time and to agreed conditions. The commitment and competencies of public project managers are also mentioned as crucial factors in the UK. It involves managers connecting the project to the political and civic environment, and leaders committing themselves to project support through communication with local communities. The lack of public management seems to be a Dutch perceived difficulty as UK local authorities do not apply active land development policies and ‘hard’ management resources. Therefore, they influence development with both more consciously applied legal tools and ‘soft’ management skills such as negotiating. Recommended improvements mentioned by Dutch practitioners here are mirrored to possible support from the UK cases. The Dutch recommendation to cooperate in pre-development stages to create public project support and commitment finds support in the UK. Hence, despite a formal division of public and private responsibilities, in practice a lot of informal public-private interaction and collaboration takes place and seems necessary. Striving for public role consistency also is an appreciated value by developers in the UK. Working on the principle of ‘agreement is agreement’ creates certainty for developers, and less resistance and willingness to cooperate once highly relevant public issues are put on the table. Establishing clear process agreements with moments of control or discussion in the UK are handled with evaluation moments aimed at judging output, and planned meetings aimed at creating a dialogue about new insights. Connecting planning and development processes in the UK is handled by a municipal team consisting of political leaders and project managers that align development processes with administrative planning processes. A clear communication plan to involve local communities and businesses in the UK is handled by developers which involve relevant stakeholders in the decision-making process prior to planning applications for support and process efficiency. Finding public opportunities to influence development other than land and capital in the UK is handled through the use of several public planning tools and publicprivate negotiations. The UK cases also provided various inspirational lessons for the Netherlands. First, the construction and application of a public ‘management toolbox’ consisting of various planning tools that shape, stimulate, regulate and activate the market could assist local authorities to view management more integratively and use existing instruments more consciously. Second, choosing a private development partner with professional expertise, track record and local knowledge, instead of an economically lucrative private tender offer for private sector-led urban development projects, has the advantage of creating a cooperative relationship. The reason for this is that flexible development concepts rather than fixed development plans are indicators of a cooperative attitude of a developer. Third, enabling partnership agreements between public, private and civic actors aimed at creating wide support and long-term commitment by expressing development intentions assists pulling together development resources from both investors and central government. Fourth, privately-owned public space based on a land lease agreement containing public space conditions creates several financial advantages. For local authorities it eliminates public maintenance costs, and for private actors the operation of the area and maintaining high quality standards can be beneficial for real estate sales and returns. Fifth, the value increase-oriented investment model of a long-term private development investor rather than a short-term project-oriented developer with a trade-off model between time, costs and quality has advantages. Large amounts of upfront investment can more easily be financed as high quality environments and properties increase the area’s competitive position and investment returns. Sixth, local authorities can establish partnerships that actively apply for public funding alternatives such as lottery funds. Such funds secure the development of public functions and create interest for commercial actors to invest, which can result possibilities to negotiate development packages which can results in a planning gain for public actors. Seventh, public and private leadership styles on different organizational levels for inner-city development projects result in more efficient processes. Appointing strategictactical operating political leaders and private firm directors and tactical-operational public and private project leaders streamlines internal and external communication and shared project commitment and support. Finally, the UK shows that a private sector-led approach can successfully be applied to complex inner-city developments. Despite the complex social and political character, fragmented land ownership situation, and high remediation costs UK developers can deliver such projects succesfully. Conditions seem a professionally skilled and financially empowered developer, and active local authorities that facilitate market initiatives. The likelihood of transfer of the inspirational UK lessons depends on some Dutch institutional characteristics (economics & politics, governance culture, planning system and policies). However, most lessons are context-independent and thus can be applied in the Dutch urban development practice. But, Table 8.2 also shows some institutional context-dependent features that limit the transfer of UK findings to the Netherlands. This includes the general short-term scope of Dutch developers and the general wish from municipalities to hold ‘control’ over development projects. Reflections on safeguarding public interests & alternative financing instruments The epilogue contains conceptual reflections about alternative ways for safeguarding public interests and private financing instruments in line with the current social-economic climate. These reflections are not based on research findings but on an additional literature review that provides food for thought for public and private actors in urban development. Hence, safeguarding public interests is an important concern for public actors, especially in market-oriented planning and private sector-led urban development projects. In our pluralistic society it has become impossible for one actor to determine the public interest in all occasions. In line with societal development it would not only be socially-coherent for governments to engage private and civic actors in safeguarding public interests, but even a social necessity. Consciously applying different public interest safeguarding strategies based on both hierarchical, market and network mechanisms (De Bruijn & Dicke, 2006) provide this opportunity. By using a combination of legitimized hierarchical mechanisms, competitionoriented market mechanisms, and inter-action oriented network mechanisms, public values become institutionalized in private and civic sectors. Then, the role of public planning institutions in safeguarding increasing economic values, social cohesion and public health is to use both legitimate planning tools and accountable planning activities. It enables other actors to become both more responsible for and involved in their own built environment. In market-oriented planning and private sector-led urban projects, safeguarding public interest instruments include non-negotiable general planning standards which secure basic needs of civilians, and negotiable development conditions which create involvement of other actors. Non-negotiable safeguarding instruments include; public tender requirements, land use plans, planning permissions and financial claims. Negotiable safeguarding instruments include; contractual conditions, competitive dialogues, spatial quality plans, developer contributions, development incentives, performance indicators, and ownership (see Figure 10.2). The reliance of private investment in private sector-led urban development projects asks for exploring alternative financing instruments for urban projects with less reliance on credit capital. This is a crucial subject being the result of the effect the current economic situation has on the land and property market. Hence, it is widely acknowledged that in many development practices around the globe property investment for urban development has changed radically as a result of the international credit crisis and economic downturn (Parkinson et al., 2009). ‘New financial models’ have the attention of several Dutch practitioners (e.g. Van Rooy, 2011) and academics (e.g. Van der Krabben, 2011b). In the current Dutch urban development practice, one notices an increased interest in demand-driven development strategies promoting; bottom-up development initiatives, value-oriented investment strategies, and de-risked phasing of development, which potentially increase the feasibility of urban projects. A literature review indicates promising alternative financing instruments for Dutch urban development practice and private sector-led urban development projects, including; Tax Increment Financing, Temporary Development/Investment Grants, Lottery Funds, DBFM/ Concession Light, Crowd Funding, Urban Development Trusts, Business Improvement Districts, and Urban Reparcelling. These instruments have different features such as investment source, development incentives, organizational requirements and object conditions, which need to be taken into account by public and private actors once applied (see Table 10.3).

Central to this research lays the concept of private sector-led urban development projects (Heurkens, 2010). Such projects involve project developers taking a leading role and local authorities adopting a facilitating role, in managing the development of an urban area, based on a clear public-private role division. Such a development strategy is quite common in Anglo-Saxon urban development practices, but is less known in Continental European practices. Nonetheless, since the beginning of the millennium such a development strategy also occurred in the Netherlands in the form of ‘concessions’. However, remarkably little empirical knowledge is available about how public and private actors collaborate on and manage private sector-led urban development projects. Moreover, it remains unclear what the effects of such projects are. This dissertation provides an understanding of the various characteristics of private sector-led urban development projects by conducting empirical case study research in the institutional contexts of the Netherlands and the UK. The research provides an answer to the following research question: What can we learn from private sector-led urban development projects in the Netherlands and UK in terms of the collaborative and managerial roles of public and private actors, and the effects of their (inter)actions? Indications for a market-oriented Dutch urban development practice Urban development practice in the Netherlands has been subject to changes pointing towards more private sector involvement in the built environment in the past decades. Although the current economic recession might indicate otherwise, there are several motives that indicate a continuation of private sector involvement and a private leadership role in Dutch urban development projects in the future. First, a shift towards more market-oriented development practice is the result of an evolutionary process of increased ‘neoliberalization’ and the adoption of Anglo-Saxon principles in Dutch society. Despite its Rhineland roots with a focus on welfare provision, in the Netherlands several neoliberal principles (privatization, decentralization, deregulation) have been adopted by government and incorporated in the management of organizations (Bakker et al., 2005). Hence, market institutionalization on the one hand, and rising civic emancipation on the other, in current Western societies prevents a return towards hierarchical governance. Second, the result of such changes is the emergence of a market-oriented type of planning practice based on the concept of ‘development planning’. Public-Private Partnerships and the ‘forward integration’ of market parties (De Zeeuw, 2007) enforce the role of market actors. In historical perspective, Boelens et al. (2006) argue that Dutch spatial planning always has been characterized by public-private collaborations in which governments facilitated private and civic entrepreneurship. Therefore, post-war public-led spatial planning with necessary government intervention was a ‘temporary hiccup’, an exception to the rule. Third, the European Commission expresses concerns about the hybrid role of public actors in Dutch institutionalized PPP joint ventures. EU legislation opts for formal public-private role divisions in realizing urban projects based on Anglo-Saxon law that comply with the legislative tendering principles of competition, transparency, equality, and public legitimacy. Fourth, experiences with joint ventures in the Netherlands are less positive as often is advocated. Such institutionalized public-private entities have seldom generated the assumed added value, caused by misconceptions about the objectives of both partners grounded in incompatible value systems. This results in contra-productive levels of distrust, time-consuming partnership formations, lack of transparency, and compromising decision-making processes (Teisman & Klijn, 2002), providing a need for other forms of collaboration. Finally, current financial retrenchments in the public sector and debates about the possible abundance of Dutch active land development policies point towards a lean and mean government that moves away from risk-bearing participation and investment in urban projects and leaves this to the market. Importantly, Van der Krabben (2011b) argues that the Dutch active public land development policies can be considered as an international exception, and advocates for facilitating land development policies. In this light, it becomes highly relevant to study private sector-led urban development as a future Dutch urban development strategy. Integrative urban management approach This research is rooted in the research school of Urban Area Development within the Department of Real Estate and Housing at the Faculty of Architecture (Delft University of Technology). It is a relatively young academic domain which views urban development most profoundly as a complex management assignment (Bruil et al., 2004; Franzen et al., 2011). This academic school uses an integrative perspective with a strong practice-orientation and carries out solution-oriented design research. Here, the integration involves bridging various actor interests, spatial functions, spatial scales, academic domains, knowledge and skills, development goals, and links process with content aspects. Such a perspective does justice to complex societal processes. Therefore it provides a fruitful ground for studying urban development aimed at developing conceptual knowledge and product for science and practice. Such integrative perspective and practice-orientation forms the basis of this research and has been applied in the following manner. In order to create an understanding of the roles of public and private actors in private sector-led urban development, this research takes a management perspective based on an integrative management approach. This involves viewing management more broadly as ‘any type of direct influencing’ urban development projects, and therefore aims at bridging often separated management theories (Osborne, 2000a). Hence, an integrative management approach assists in both understanding urban development practices and projects and constructing useful conceptual tools for practitioners and academics. Integrative approaches attempt to combine a number of different elements into a more holistic management approach (Black & Porter, 2000). Importantly, it does not view the management of projects in isolation but in its entire complexity and dynamics. Therefore, our management approach combines two integrative management theories; the open systems theory (De Leeuw, 2002) and contingency theory. The former provides opportunities to study the management of a project in a structured manner. The latter emphasizes that there is no universally effective way of managing and recognizes the importance of contextual circumstances. Hence, an integrative management approach favors incorporating theories from multiple academic domains such as political science, economics, law, business administration, and organizational and management concepts. Hence, it moves away from the classical academic division between planning theory and property theory, and organization and management theories. It positions itself in between such academic domains, and aims at bridging theoretical viewpoints by following the concept of planning ánd markets (Alexander, 2001) rather than concepts such as ‘planning versus markets’, public versus private sector, and organization versus management. Also, such an integrative view values the complexity and dynamics of empirical urban development practices. More specifically, this research studies urban development projects as object, as urban areas are the focus point of spatial intervention and public-private interaction (Daamen, 2010), and thus collaboration and management. Here, public planning processes and private development processes merge with each other. Thus, our research continues to build upon the importance of studying and reflecting on empirical practices and projects (e.g. Healey, 2006). In addition to these authors, this research does so by using meaningful integrative concepts that reflect empirical realities of urban projects. Thereby, this research serves to bridge management sciences with management practices (Van Aken, 2004; Mintzberg, 2010) through iterative processes of reflecting on science and practice. Moreover, the integrative management approach applied in this research assists in filling an academic gap, namely the lack of management knowledge about public-private interaction in urban development projects. Despite the vast amount of literature on the governance of planning practices (e.g. DiGaetano & Strom, 2003), and Public-Private Partnerships (e.g. Osborne, 2000b), remarkable little knowledge exists about what shifting public-private relationships mean for day-to-day management by public and private actors in development projects. Hence, here we follow the main argument made by public administration scholar Klijn (2008) who claims that it is such direct actor influence that brings about the most significant change to the built environment. An integrative urban management model (see Figure 2.3) based on the open systems approach has been constructed which forms a conceptual representation of empirical private sectorled urban development projects. This model serves as an analytical tool to comprehend the complexity of managing such projects. In this research, several theoretical insights about publicprivate relations and roles are used to understand different contextual and organizational factors that affect the management of private sector-led urban development projects. Hence, a project context exists within different often country-specific institutional environments (e.g. the Netherlands and UK). In this research, contextual aspects that to a degree determine the way public and private actors inter-organize urban projects, consist of economics & politics, governance cultures, and planning systems and policies. Hence, institutional values are deeply rooted in social welfare models (Nadin & Stead, 2008). For instance, the differences between Anglo-Saxon and Rhineland model principles also determine public-private relationships. However, the process of neoliberalization (Hackworth, 2007) and subsequent adaptation of neoliberal political ideologies (Harvey, 2005) has created quite similar governance arrangements in Western countries. Nevertheless, institutional rules incorporated in planning systems, laws and policies often remain country-specific. But, market-oriented planning, involving ‘planners as market actors’ (Adams & Tiesdell, 2010) intervening and operating within market systems, have become the most commonly shared feature of contemporary Western urban development practices (Carmona et al., 2009). In this research, the project organization focuses on institutional aspects and interorganizational arrangements that structure Public-Private Partnerships (Bult-Spiering & Dewulf, 2002). It involves studying organizational tasks and responsibilities, financial risks and revenues, and legal rules and requirements. Inter-organizational arrangements condition the way public and private actors manage projects. Hence, such arrangements can be placed on a public-private spectrum (Börzel & Risse, 2002) which indicates different power relations in terms of public and private autonomy and dominance (Savitch, 1997) in making planning decisions. These public-private power relations are reflected in different Public-Private Partnership arrangements (Bennet et al., 2000) in urban development projects. As a result, in some contexts these partnerships arrangements are formalized into organizational vehicles or legal contracts, in others there is an emphasis on informal partnerships and interaction. The lack of management knowledge on private sector-led urban development projects, and our view of management as any type of direct influencing, results in constructing a conceptual public-private urban management model (see Figure SUM.1). This model is based on both theoretical concepts and empirical reflection. In this research, the management of project processes by public and private actors contains applying both management activities and instruments. Project management (Wijnen et al., 2004) includes development stage-oriented initiating, designing, planning, and operating activities. Process management (Teisman, 2003) includes interaction-oriented negotiating, decision-making, and communicating activities. Management tools consist of legal-oriented shaping, regulating, stimulating, and capacity building planning tools (Adams et al., 2004). And management resources consist of crucial necessities (Burie, 1978) for realizing urban projects like land, capital and knowledge. In essence, all these management measures can be applied by public and private actors to influence (private sector-led) urban development projects. These management measures can be used by actors to reach project effects. In this research, project effects are perceived as judgment criteria for indicating the success of the management of private sector-led urban development projects. They consist of cooperation effectiveness, process efficiency, and spatial quality. Effectiveness involves the degree to which objectives are achieved and problems are resolved. Ef ficiency is the degree to which the process is considered as efficiently realizing projects within time and budget. Finally, spatial quality is the degree to which the project contributes to responding to user, experience and future values of involved actors (Hooijmeijer et al., 2001). Such process and product effects are a crucial addition to understand the results of private sector-led urban development projects. Comparative case study research using a lesson-drawing method This research systematically analyzes and compares private sector-led urban development cases in both the Netherlands and the UK in a specific methodological way. In essence, this study is an empirical comparative case study research using a lesson-drawing method. Hence, case studies allow for an empirical inquiry that investigates a contemporary phenomenon within its real life context (Yin, 2003). Such a qualitative approach is very suited for the purposes of this research as it enables revealing empirical collaborative and managerial mechanisms within private sector-led urban development projects. The reason to include studying the UK lies is the fact that it can be considered as a market-oriented development practice, from which valuable lessons can be drawn for the Netherlands. Thereby, this research places itself in a longer tradition of Dutch interests in UK planning and development (e.g. Hobma et al., 2008). Hence, this research aims at drawing lessons in the form of ‘inspiration’ from practices and projects, as opposed to the more far-reaching transplantation of spatial policies (e.g. Janssen-Jansen et al., 2008). However, in order to draw meaningful empirical lessons there is a need to indicate whether they are context-dependent or -independent. This requires systematically comparing the institutional planning practices of both countries by indicating differences and similarities between the Netherlands and the UK. Based on these methodological principles ten Dutch and two UK of private sector-led urban development cases are selected and studied. The Dutch cases focus on scope over depth aimed at sketching the phenomenon of ‘area concessions’ in both inner-city and urban fringe projects. The UK cases focus on depth over scope aimed at understanding the applicability of a private sector-led approach in complex large-scale inner-city projects. As techniques the case study research uses document reviews, semi-structured interviews, project visits, and data mapping. Comparing Dutch and UK planning and urban development practices The institutional context of urban development in the Netherlands and the UK shows some structural differences, despite the fact that such contexts are often subject to change. For instance, the Dutch planning system uses Napoleonic codified law based on a constitution with abstract law principles as rule, and a limited role of judicial power. The UK planning system is based on British common law lacking a constitution, and uses law-making-as-we-go as judges act as law-makers. In terms of spatial planning, the Netherlands is characterized by binding land use plans within a limited-imperative system based on legal certainty. Dutch spatial planning can be labelled as ‘permitted planning’ based on ‘comprehensive integrative model’ (Dühr et al., 2010) which involves hierarchically coordinated and related public sector spatial plans. UK spatial planning has no binding land use plan, places importance on material considerations based on discretionary authority and flexibility. Historically, UK’s spatial planning can be labelled as ‘development-oriented planning’ based on a ‘land use management model’ with a focus on public sector coordinated planning policies. Moreover, Dutch and UK urban development also differ in terms of public and private roles in organizing and managing development (Heurkens, 2009). In the Netherlands, local governments are active bodies using spatial plans, active land development policies and public investment to develop cities. The private sector often operates reactively and is historically focused on the physical realization of projects. In general, public-private decision-making processes are based on reaching consensus, development project coordination typically involves ‘collaboration models’, and management is focused on process as product outcomes. In the UK, local government uses relatively less regulations and investment to develop cities, thereby facilitating market parties. The development industry is a mature sector, actively initiating and investing in projects. Decision-making is characterized by negotiations, and the organization of projects is often based on a clear formal public-private role division. Despite such a generic Dutch-UK comparison being of crucial importance to this research, it does no justice to increasing similarities between European planning practices. Moreover, such institutional contexts evolve as a result of changing planning priorities in each country. For instance, some basic characteristics of the UK planning system attracted the attention of Dutch planners, including comprehensive principles for project coordination, private sector involvement and negotiations, options for the settlement of ‘planning gain’, packaging interests, development-oriented planning, and discretion for planning decisions (Spaans, 2005). Hence, such more market-oriented planning principles have become valuable and sometimes necessary mechanisms to effectively cope with an increasingly less public-led and more private sector-led Dutch urban development practice. Empirical findings from Dutch private sector-led urban development cases Urban development practice in the Netherlands since the year 2000 witnessed an increased use of the concession model. Hence, this is the Dutch definition for private sector-led urban development. It can best be characterized as a contract form between public and private parties which involves the transfer of risks, revenues, responsibilities for the plan, land and real estate development to private developers based on pre-defined set of public requirements (Gijzen, 2009). In theory (Van Rooy, 2007; Van de Klundert, 2008; Heurkens et al., 2008) this collaboration model holds promising advantages of being a more effective, efficient and transparent strategy to achieve a high quality built environment. Nonetheless, possible disadvantages like the lack of public ‘steering’, dependency of market actors and circumstances, inflexible contracts, a project management orientation, and a stern public-private relationship also are mentioned. Moreover, conditions for the application of concessions in theory involve a manageable project scale and duration, minimal political and societal complexity, and maximum freedom for private actors. Motives for choosing concessions are the lack of public labor capacity and financial development means, risk transfer to private actors, increasing private initiatives and private land ownership. Hence, in theory public and private roles in the concession model are considered as strictly separated. However, there is a lack of structural empirical understanding and evidence for such theoretical assumptions. Therefore, empirical cases in Amsterdam, The Hague, Enschede, Maassluis, Middelburg, Naaldwijk, Rotterdam, Tilburg, Utrecht, and Velsen (see Table 5.1) are carried out. This includes studying private sector-led projects in both inner-city and urban fringe locations. The main conclusions based on cross-case study findings of these ten Dutch projects are highlighted here. Notice that public-private interaction and collaboration remains of vital importance in Dutch private sector-led urban development projects. Despite the formal contractual separation of public and private tasks and responsibilities, in practice close informal cooperation can be witnessed, especially in the early development stages. Moreover, public actors do not remain as risk free as theory suggests, because unfavorable market circumstances can cause development delays affecting the living environment of inhabitants. Furthermore, it seems that constructing and using flexible public requirements with some non-negotiable rules is an effective condition for realizing public objectives during the process. In terms of management, most projects are hardly considered as solely private sector-led, as they involve a substantial amount of public management influence. For instance, project management activities include a dominant role of municipalities in initiating and operating the development. Process management activities are carried out by both actors, as they involve close public-private interactions. Management tools are mostly used by public actors to shape and regulate development with a limited conscious usage of stimulating and capacity building tools. Using the management resources land, capital and knowledge are mainly a private affair. In terms of effects, the concession model by actors is considered as an effective instrument, but not necessarily results in efficient processes. The general perception of public, private and civic actors about the project’s spatial quality level is positive. In addition, actors were asked about their cooperation experiences. Often mentioned problems include a ‘we against them relationship’, lack of public role consistency, thin line between plan judgment and control, public manager’s commitment and competency, communication with local communities, and lack of public management opportunities. Based on the empirical case studies, most conditions for applying concessions are confirmed. However, the successful inner-city development projects in Amsterdam and Enschede indicate that a private sector-led approach can also be applied to more complex urban development projects within cities. Empirical findings from UK’s private sector-led urban development cases Urban development practice in the UK often is labelled as urban regeneration. Historically, it is strongly shaped by neoliberal political ideology of the Conservative Thatcher government in the 1980s. But it also is influenced by New Labour ideologies favoring the Third Way (Giddens, 1998) aimed at aligning economic, social and environmental policies. However, as a result of these institutional characteristics, the UK is strongly shaped by the understanding that most development is undertaken by private interests or by public bodies acting very much like private interests (Nadin et al., 2008). In general, local authorities depend on initiatives and investments of property developers and investors, because public financial resources and planning powers to actively develop land are limited. As a result, development control of private developments is a concept deeply embedded in development practice. Several legal instruments such as Section 106 agreements are used to establish planning gain by asking developer contributions for public functions. Moreover, urban development in the UK has a strong informal partnership culture, and simultaneously builds upon a strict formal legal public-private role division. These UK urban development practice characteristics provide valid reasons to study private sector-led urban development projects in more detail. The empirical cases of private sector-led urban development projects in the UK are Bristol Harbourside and Liverpool One. They represent mid-2000s strategic inner-city developments with a mixed-use functional program, and therefore possible high complexity. As such, they are relevant urban projects for drawing lessons for the Netherlands. The main conclusions based on cross-case study findings of the UK projects are discussed here. The case contexts show that politics and the often changeable nature of planning policies can have a major influence on the organization and management of development projects. Hence, strong and effective political leadership is considered as a crucial success factor. Changing policies result in re-establishing development conditions resulting in new publicprivate negotiations. In terms of organization, the cases indeed show that local authorities do not take on development risks. Moreover, revenue sharing with private actors is absent or limited to what the actors agree upon in development packages. Furthermore, local authorities encourage all kinds of partnerships with other public, private or civic stakeholders in order to generate development support and raise funds. In terms of management, local authorities use different management measures to influence projects. The cases indicate that public actors are able to influence private sector-led developments and thereby achieve public planning objectives. Importantly, public actors use all kinds of managing tools to shape and stimulate development; they do not limit themselves to regulation but also build capacity for development. However, the largest share of managing the project takes place on behalf of project developers. Private actors manage projects from initial design towards even public space operation (Liverpool). Thereby, they work with long-term investment business models increasing private commitment. In terms of effects, the cases show that although the projects are carried out effectively and achieve high quality levels, the process efficiency lacks behind due to lengthy negotiations. In conclusion, the actors’ experiences with the private sector-led urban development projects indicate some problems including; the financial dependency on private actors, lack of financial incentives for public actors, lack of awareness of civic demands, lack of controlling public opposition, long negotiation processes, and absence of skilled public managers. Moreover, the actors indicate some crucial conditions for a private sectorled approach including; flexible general public guidelines, informal partnerships and joint working, public and private leadership roles and skills, professional attitude and long term commitment of private actors, involvement of local communities, separating public planning and development roles, handling political pressures, and favorable market circumstances. Empirical lessons, improvements and inspiration Some general conclusions from the Dutch and UK case comparison can be drawn (see Table 8.1). The influence of the project’s context in the UK seems to be higher than in the Netherlands, especially political powers and changeable policies influence projects. The organizational role division in UK projects seems to be stricter than in the Dutch projects, where public requirements sometimes are also formulated in more detail. The actor’s management in the Dutch cases is slightly less private sector-led than in the UK, where local authorities and developers are more aware of how to use management measures at their disposal. The project effects show quite some resemblance; effectiveness and spatial quality can be achieved, while efficiency remains difficult to achieve due to the negotiation culture. Here, important empirical lessons learned from cases in both countries are discussed aimed at formulating possible solutions for perceived Dutch problems. The problematic Dutch ‘we against them relationship’ between actors in the UK is handled by a close collaboration. Developers organize regular informative and interactive design meetings with local authorities, sharing ideas in a ‘joint-up working’ atmosphere. The lack of public role consistency in the UK is resolved by local authorities that develop a clear schedule of spatial requirements which provides certainty. Moreover, room for negotiations allows for the flexibility to react on changed circumstances. The thin line between judgment and control of plans is not commonly recognized in the UK cases. Local authorities tend to respect that developers need room to carry out development activities on their own professional insights, and merely control if developers deliver ‘product specifications’ in time and to agreed conditions. The commitment and competencies of public project managers are also mentioned as crucial factors in the UK. It involves managers connecting the project to the political and civic environment, and leaders committing themselves to project support through communication with local communities. The lack of public management seems to be a Dutch perceived difficulty as UK local authorities do not apply active land development policies and ‘hard’ management resources. Therefore, they influence development with both more consciously applied legal tools and ‘soft’ management skills such as negotiating. Recommended improvements mentioned by Dutch practitioners here are mirrored to possible support from the UK cases. The Dutch recommendation to cooperate in pre-development stages to create public project support and commitment finds support in the UK. Hence, despite a formal division of public and private responsibilities, in practice a lot of informal public-private interaction and collaboration takes place and seems necessary. Striving for public role consistency also is an appreciated value by developers in the UK. Working on the principle of ‘agreement is agreement’ creates certainty for developers, and less resistance and willingness to cooperate once highly relevant public issues are put on the table. Establishing clear process agreements with moments of control or discussion in the UK are handled with evaluation moments aimed at judging output, and planned meetings aimed at creating a dialogue about new insights. Connecting planning and development processes in the UK is handled by a municipal team consisting of political leaders and project managers that align development processes with administrative planning processes. A clear communication plan to involve local communities and businesses in the UK is handled by developers which involve relevant stakeholders in the decision-making process prior to planning applications for support and process efficiency. Finding public opportunities to influence development other than land and capital in the UK is handled through the use of several public planning tools and publicprivate negotiations. The UK cases also provided various inspirational lessons for the Netherlands. First, the construction and application of a public ‘management toolbox’ consisting of various planning tools that shape, stimulate, regulate and activate the market could assist local authorities to view management more integratively and use existing instruments more consciously. Second, choosing a private development partner with professional expertise, track record and local knowledge, instead of an economically lucrative private tender offer for private sector-led urban development projects, has the advantage of creating a cooperative relationship. The reason for this is that flexible development concepts rather than fixed development plans are indicators of a cooperative attitude of a developer. Third, enabling partnership agreements between public, private and civic actors aimed at creating wide support and long-term commitment by expressing development intentions assists pulling together development resources from both investors and central government. Fourth, privately-owned public space based on a land lease agreement containing public space conditions creates several financial advantages. For local authorities it eliminates public maintenance costs, and for private actors the operation of the area and maintaining high quality standards can be beneficial for real estate sales and returns. Fifth, the value increase-oriented investment model of a long-term private development investor rather than a short-term project-oriented developer with a trade-off model between time, costs and quality has advantages. Large amounts of upfront investment can more easily be financed as high quality environments and properties increase the area’s competitive position and investment returns. Sixth, local authorities can establish partnerships that actively apply for public funding alternatives such as lottery funds. Such funds secure the development of public functions and create interest for commercial actors to invest, which can result possibilities to negotiate development packages which can results in a planning gain for public actors. Seventh, public and private leadership styles on different organizational levels for inner-city development projects result in more efficient processes. Appointing strategictactical operating political leaders and private firm directors and tactical-operational public and private project leaders streamlines internal and external communication and shared project commitment and support. Finally, the UK shows that a private sector-led approach can successfully be applied to complex inner-city developments. Despite the complex social and political character, fragmented land ownership situation, and high remediation costs UK developers can deliver such projects succesfully. Conditions seem a professionally skilled and financially empowered developer, and active local authorities that facilitate market initiatives. The likelihood of transfer of the inspirational UK lessons depends on some Dutch institutional characteristics (economics & politics, governance culture, planning system and policies). However, most lessons are context-independent and thus can be applied in the Dutch urban development practice. But, Table 8.2 also shows some institutional context-dependent features that limit the transfer of UK findings to the Netherlands. This includes the general short-term scope of Dutch developers and the general wish from municipalities to hold ‘control’ over development projects. Reflections on safeguarding public interests & alternative financing instruments The epilogue contains conceptual reflections about alternative ways for safeguarding public interests and private financing instruments in line with the current social-economic climate. These reflections are not based on research findings but on an additional literature review that provides food for thought for public and private actors in urban development. Hence, safeguarding public interests is an important concern for public actors, especially in market-oriented planning and private sector-led urban development projects. In our pluralistic society it has become impossible for one actor to determine the public interest in all occasions. In line with societal development it would not only be socially-coherent for governments to engage private and civic actors in safeguarding public interests, but even a social necessity. Consciously applying different public interest safeguarding strategies based on both hierarchical, market and network mechanisms (De Bruijn & Dicke, 2006) provide this opportunity. By using a combination of legitimized hierarchical mechanisms, competitionoriented market mechanisms, and inter-action oriented network mechanisms, public values become institutionalized in private and civic sectors. Then, the role of public planning institutions in safeguarding increasing economic values, social cohesion and public health is to use both legitimate planning tools and accountable planning activities. It enables other actors to become both more responsible for and involved in their own built environment. In market-oriented planning and private sector-led urban projects, safeguarding public interest instruments include non-negotiable general planning standards which secure basic needs of civilians, and negotiable development conditions which create involvement of other actors. Non-negotiable safeguarding instruments include; public tender requirements, land use plans, planning permissions and financial claims. Negotiable safeguarding instruments include; contractual conditions, competitive dialogues, spatial quality plans, developer contributions, development incentives, performance indicators, and ownership (see Figure 10.2). The reliance of private investment in private sector-led urban development projects asks for exploring alternative financing instruments for urban projects with less reliance on credit capital. This is a crucial subject being the result of the effect the current economic situation has on the land and property market. Hence, it is widely acknowledged that in many development practices around the globe property investment for urban development has changed radically as a result of the international credit crisis and economic downturn (Parkinson et al., 2009). ‘New financial models’ have the attention of several Dutch practitioners (e.g. Van Rooy, 2011) and academics (e.g. Van der Krabben, 2011b). In the current Dutch urban development practice, one notices an increased interest in demand-driven development strategies promoting; bottom-up development initiatives, value-oriented investment strategies, and de-risked phasing of development, which potentially increase the feasibility of urban projects. A literature review indicates promising alternative financing instruments for Dutch urban development practice and private sector-led urban development projects, including; Tax Increment Financing, Temporary Development/Investment Grants, Lottery Funds, DBFM/ Concession Light, Crowd Funding, Urban Development Trusts, Business Improvement Districts, and Urban Reparcelling. These instruments have different features such as investment source, development incentives, organizational requirements and object conditions, which need to be taken into account by public and private actors once applied (see Table 10.3).

Central to this research lays the concept of private sector-led urban development projects (Heurkens, 2010). Such projects involve project developers taking a leading role and local authorities adopting a facilitating role, in managing the development of an urban area, based on a clear public-private role division. Such a development strategy is quite common in Anglo-Saxon urban development practices, but is less known in Continental European practices. Nonetheless, since the beginning of the millennium such a development strategy also occurred in the Netherlands in the form of ‘concessions’. However, remarkably little empirical knowledge is available about how public and private actors collaborate on and manage private sector-led urban development projects. Moreover, it remains unclear what the effects of such projects are. This dissertation provides an understanding of the various characteristics of private sector-led urban development projects by conducting empirical case study research in the institutional contexts of the Netherlands and the UK. The research provides an answer to the following research question: What can we learn from private sector-led urban development projects in the Netherlands and UK in terms of the collaborative and managerial roles of public and private actors, and the effects of their (inter)actions? Indications for a market-oriented Dutch urban development practice Urban development practice in the Netherlands has been subject to changes pointing towards more private sector involvement in the built environment in the past decades. Although the current economic recession might indicate otherwise, there are several motives that indicate a continuation of private sector involvement and a private leadership role in Dutch urban development projects in the future. First, a shift towards more market-oriented development practice is the result of an evolutionary process of increased ‘neoliberalization’ and the adoption of Anglo-Saxon principles in Dutch society. Despite its Rhineland roots with a focus on welfare provision, in the Netherlands several neoliberal principles (privatization, decentralization, deregulation) have been adopted by government and incorporated in the management of organizations (Bakker et al., 2005). Hence, market institutionalization on the one hand, and rising civic emancipation on the other, in current Western societies prevents a return towards hierarchical governance. Second, the result of such changes is the emergence of a market-oriented type of planning practice based on the concept of ‘development planning’. Public-Private Partnerships and the ‘forward integration’ of market parties (De Zeeuw, 2007) enforce the role of market actors. In historical perspective, Boelens et al. (2006) argue that Dutch spatial planning always has been characterized by public-private collaborations in which governments facilitated private and civic entrepreneurship. Therefore, post-war public-led spatial planning with necessary government intervention was a ‘temporary hiccup’, an exception to the rule. Third, the European Commission expresses concerns about the hybrid role of public actors in Dutch institutionalized PPP joint ventures. EU legislation opts for formal public-private role divisions in realizing urban projects based on Anglo-Saxon law that comply with the legislative tendering principles of competition, transparency, equality, and public legitimacy. Fourth, experiences with joint ventures in the Netherlands are less positive as often is advocated. Such institutionalized public-private entities have seldom generated the assumed added value, caused by misconceptions about the objectives of both partners grounded in incompatible value systems. This results in contra-productive levels of distrust, time-consuming partnership formations, lack of transparency, and compromising decision-making processes (Teisman & Klijn, 2002), providing a need for other forms of collaboration. Finally, current financial retrenchments in the public sector and debates about the possible abundance of Dutch active land development policies point towards a lean and mean government that moves away from risk-bearing participation and investment in urban projects and leaves this to the market. Importantly, Van der Krabben (2011b) argues that the Dutch active public land development policies can be considered as an international exception, and advocates for facilitating land development policies. In this light, it becomes highly relevant to study private sector-led urban development as a future Dutch urban development strategy. Integrative urban management approach This research is rooted in the research school of Urban Area Development within the Department of Real Estate and Housing at the Faculty of Architecture (Delft University of Technology). It is a relatively young academic domain which views urban development most profoundly as a complex management assignment (Bruil et al., 2004; Franzen et al., 2011). This academic school uses an integrative perspective with a strong practice-orientation and carries out solution-oriented design research. Here, the integration involves bridging various actor interests, spatial functions, spatial scales, academic domains, knowledge and skills, development goals, and links process with content aspects. Such a perspective does justice to complex societal processes. Therefore it provides a fruitful ground for studying urban development aimed at developing conceptual knowledge and product for science and practice. Such integrative perspective and practice-orientation forms the basis of this research and has been applied in the following manner. In order to create an understanding of the roles of public and private actors in private sector-led urban development, this research takes a management perspective based on an integrative management approach. This involves viewing management more broadly as ‘any type of direct influencing’ urban development projects, and therefore aims at bridging often separated management theories (Osborne, 2000a). Hence, an integrative management approach assists in both understanding urban development practices and projects and constructing useful conceptual tools for practitioners and academics. Integrative approaches attempt to combine a number of different elements into a more holistic management approach (Black & Porter, 2000). Importantly, it does not view the management of projects in isolation but in its entire complexity and dynamics. Therefore, our management approach combines two integrative management theories; the open systems theory (De Leeuw, 2002) and contingency theory. The former provides opportunities to study the management of a project in a structured manner. The latter emphasizes that there is no universally effective way of managing and recognizes the importance of contextual circumstances. Hence, an integrative management approach favors incorporating theories from multiple academic domains such as political science, economics, law, business administration, and organizational and management concepts. Hence, it moves away from the classical academic division between planning theory and property theory, and organization and management theories. It positions itself in between such academic domains, and aims at bridging theoretical viewpoints by following the concept of planning ánd markets (Alexander, 2001) rather than concepts such as ‘planning versus markets’, public versus private sector, and organization versus management. Also, such an integrative view values the complexity and dynamics of empirical urban development practices. More specifically, this research studies urban development projects as object, as urban areas are the focus point of spatial intervention and public-private interaction (Daamen, 2010), and thus collaboration and management. Here, public planning processes and private development processes merge with each other. Thus, our research continues to build upon the importance of studying and reflecting on empirical practices and projects (e.g. Healey, 2006). In addition to these authors, this research does so by using meaningful integrative concepts that reflect empirical realities of urban projects. Thereby, this research serves to bridge management sciences with management practices (Van Aken, 2004; Mintzberg, 2010) through iterative processes of reflecting on science and practice. Moreover, the integrative management approach applied in this research assists in filling an academic gap, namely the lack of management knowledge about public-private interaction in urban development projects. Despite the vast amount of literature on the governance of planning practices (e.g. DiGaetano & Strom, 2003), and Public-Private Partnerships (e.g. Osborne, 2000b), remarkable little knowledge exists about what shifting public-private relationships mean for day-to-day management by public and private actors in development projects. Hence, here we follow the main argument made by public administration scholar Klijn (2008) who claims that it is such direct actor influence that brings about the most significant change to the built environment. An integrative urban management model (see Figure 2.3) based on the open systems approach has been constructed which forms a conceptual representation of empirical private sectorled urban development projects. This model serves as an analytical tool to comprehend the complexity of managing such projects. In this research, several theoretical insights about publicprivate relations and roles are used to understand different contextual and organizational factors that affect the management of private sector-led urban development projects. Hence, a project context exists within different often country-specific institutional environments (e.g. the Netherlands and UK). In this research, contextual aspects that to a degree determine the way public and private actors inter-organize urban projects, consist of economics & politics, governance cultures, and planning systems and policies. Hence, institutional values are deeply rooted in social welfare models (Nadin & Stead, 2008). For instance, the differences between Anglo-Saxon and Rhineland model principles also determine public-private relationships. However, the process of neoliberalization (Hackworth, 2007) and subsequent adaptation of neoliberal political ideologies (Harvey, 2005) has created quite similar governance arrangements in Western countries. Nevertheless, institutional rules incorporated in planning systems, laws and policies often remain country-specific. But, market-oriented planning, involving ‘planners as market actors’ (Adams & Tiesdell, 2010) intervening and operating within market systems, have become the most commonly shared feature of contemporary Western urban development practices (Carmona et al., 2009). In this research, the project organization focuses on institutional aspects and interorganizational arrangements that structure Public-Private Partnerships (Bult-Spiering & Dewulf, 2002). It involves studying organizational tasks and responsibilities, financial risks and revenues, and legal rules and requirements. Inter-organizational arrangements condition the way public and private actors manage projects. Hence, such arrangements can be placed on a public-private spectrum (Börzel & Risse, 2002) which indicates different power relations in terms of public and private autonomy and dominance (Savitch, 1997) in making planning decisions. These public-private power relations are reflected in different Public-Private Partnership arrangements (Bennet et al., 2000) in urban development projects. As a result, in some contexts these partnerships arrangements are formalized into organizational vehicles or legal contracts, in others there is an emphasis on informal partnerships and interaction. The lack of management knowledge on private sector-led urban development projects, and our view of management as any type of direct influencing, results in constructing a conceptual public-private urban management model (see Figure SUM.1). This model is based on both theoretical concepts and empirical reflection. In this research, the management of project processes by public and private actors contains applying both management activities and instruments. Project management (Wijnen et al., 2004) includes development stage-oriented initiating, designing, planning, and operating activities. Process management (Teisman, 2003) includes interaction-oriented negotiating, decision-making, and communicating activities. Management tools consist of legal-oriented shaping, regulating, stimulating, and capacity building planning tools (Adams et al., 2004). And management resources consist of crucial necessities (Burie, 1978) for realizing urban projects like land, capital and knowledge. In essence, all these management measures can be applied by public and private actors to influence (private sector-led) urban development projects. These management measures can be used by actors to reach project effects. In this research, project effects are perceived as judgment criteria for indicating the success of the management of private sector-led urban development projects. They consist of cooperation effectiveness, process efficiency, and spatial quality. Effectiveness involves the degree to which objectives are achieved and problems are resolved. Ef ficiency is the degree to which the process is considered as efficiently realizing projects within time and budget. Finally, spatial quality is the degree to which the project contributes to responding to user, experience and future values of involved actors (Hooijmeijer et al., 2001). Such process and product effects are a crucial addition to understand the results of private sector-led urban development projects. Comparative case study research using a lesson-drawing method This research systematically analyzes and compares private sector-led urban development cases in both the Netherlands and the UK in a specific methodological way. In essence, this study is an empirical comparative case study research using a lesson-drawing method. Hence, case studies allow for an empirical inquiry that investigates a contemporary phenomenon within its real life context (Yin, 2003). Such a qualitative approach is very suited for the purposes of this research as it enables revealing empirical collaborative and managerial mechanisms within private sector-led urban development projects. The reason to include studying the UK lies is the fact that it can be considered as a market-oriented development practice, from which valuable lessons can be drawn for the Netherlands. Thereby, this research places itself in a longer tradition of Dutch interests in UK planning and development (e.g. Hobma et al., 2008). Hence, this research aims at drawing lessons in the form of ‘inspiration’ from practices and projects, as opposed to the more far-reaching transplantation of spatial policies (e.g. Janssen-Jansen et al., 2008). However, in order to draw meaningful empirical lessons there is a need to indicate whether they are context-dependent or -independent. This requires systematically comparing the institutional planning practices of both countries by indicating differences and similarities between the Netherlands and the UK. Based on these methodological principles ten Dutch and two UK of private sector-led urban development cases are selected and studied. The Dutch cases focus on scope over depth aimed at sketching the phenomenon of ‘area concessions’ in both inner-city and urban fringe projects. The UK cases focus on depth over scope aimed at understanding the applicability of a private sector-led approach in complex large-scale inner-city projects. As techniques the case study research uses document reviews, semi-structured interviews, project visits, and data mapping. Comparing Dutch and UK planning and urban development practices The institutional context of urban development in the Netherlands and the UK shows some structural differences, despite the fact that such contexts are often subject to change. For instance, the Dutch planning system uses Napoleonic codified law based on a constitution with abstract law principles as rule, and a limited role of judicial power. The UK planning system is based on British common law lacking a constitution, and uses law-making-as-we-go as judges act as law-makers. In terms of spatial planning, the Netherlands is characterized by binding land use plans within a limited-imperative system based on legal certainty. Dutch spatial planning can be labelled as ‘permitted planning’ based on ‘comprehensive integrative model’ (Dühr et al., 2010) which involves hierarchically coordinated and related public sector spatial plans. UK spatial planning has no binding land use plan, places importance on material considerations based on discretionary authority and flexibility. Historically, UK’s spatial planning can be labelled as ‘development-oriented planning’ based on a ‘land use management model’ with a focus on public sector coordinated planning policies. Moreover, Dutch and UK urban development also differ in terms of public and private roles in organizing and managing development (Heurkens, 2009). In the Netherlands, local governments are active bodies using spatial plans, active land development policies and public investment to develop cities. The private sector often operates reactively and is historically focused on the physical realization of projects. In general, public-private decision-making processes are based on reaching consensus, development project coordination typically involves ‘collaboration models’, and management is focused on process as product outcomes. In the UK, local government uses relatively less regulations and investment to develop cities, thereby facilitating market parties. The development industry is a mature sector, actively initiating and investing in projects. Decision-making is characterized by negotiations, and the organization of projects is often based on a clear formal public-private role division. Despite such a generic Dutch-UK comparison being of crucial importance to this research, it does no justice to increasing similarities between European planning practices. Moreover, such institutional contexts evolve as a result of changing planning priorities in each country. For instance, some basic characteristics of the UK planning system attracted the attention of Dutch planners, including comprehensive principles for project coordination, private sector involvement and negotiations, options for the settlement of ‘planning gain’, packaging interests, development-oriented planning, and discretion for planning decisions (Spaans, 2005). Hence, such more market-oriented planning principles have become valuable and sometimes necessary mechanisms to effectively cope with an increasingly less public-led and more private sector-led Dutch urban development practice. Empirical findings from Dutch private sector-led urban development cases Urban development practice in the Netherlands since the year 2000 witnessed an increased use of the concession model. Hence, this is the Dutch definition for private sector-led urban development. It can best be characterized as a contract form between public and private parties which involves the transfer of risks, revenues, responsibilities for the plan, land and real estate development to private developers based on pre-defined set of public requirements (Gijzen, 2009). In theory (Van Rooy, 2007; Van de Klundert, 2008; Heurkens et al., 2008) this collaboration model holds promising advantages of being a more effective, efficient and transparent strategy to achieve a high quality built environment. Nonetheless, possible disadvantages like the lack of public ‘steering’, dependency of market actors and circumstances, inflexible contracts, a project management orientation, and a stern public-private relationship also are mentioned. Moreover, conditions for the application of concessions in theory involve a manageable project scale and duration, minimal political and societal complexity, and maximum freedom for private actors. Motives for choosing concessions are the lack of public labor capacity and financial development means, risk transfer to private actors, increasing private initiatives and private land ownership. Hence, in theory public and private roles in the concession model are considered as strictly separated. However, there is a lack of structural empirical understanding and evidence for such theoretical assumptions. Therefore, empirical cases in Amsterdam, The Hague, Enschede, Maassluis, Middelburg, Naaldwijk, Rotterdam, Tilburg, Utrecht, and Velsen (see Table 5.1) are carried out. This includes studying private sector-led projects in both inner-city and urban fringe locations. The main conclusions based on cross-case study findings of these ten Dutch projects are highlighted here. Notice that public-private interaction and collaboration remains of vital importance in Dutch private sector-led urban development projects. Despite the formal contractual separation of public and private tasks and responsibilities, in practice close informal cooperation can be witnessed, especially in the early development stages. Moreover, public actors do not remain as risk free as theory suggests, because unfavorable market circumstances can cause development delays affecting the living environment of inhabitants. Furthermore, it seems that constructing and using flexible public requirements with some non-negotiable rules is an effective condition for realizing public objectives during the process. In terms of management, most projects are hardly considered as solely private sector-led, as they involve a substantial amount of public management influence. For instance, project management activities include a dominant role of municipalities in initiating and operating the development. Process management activities are carried out by both actors, as they involve close public-private interactions. Management tools are mostly used by public actors to shape and regulate development with a limited conscious usage of stimulating and capacity building tools. Using the management resources land, capital and knowledge are mainly a private affair. In terms of effects, the concession model by actors is considered as an effective instrument, but not necessarily results in efficient processes. The general perception of public, private and civic actors about the project’s spatial quality level is positive. In addition, actors were asked about their cooperation experiences. Often mentioned problems include a ‘we against them relationship’, lack of public role consistency, thin line between plan judgment and control, public manager’s commitment and competency, communication with local communities, and lack of public management opportunities. Based on the empirical case studies, most conditions for applying concessions are confirmed. However, the successful inner-city development projects in Amsterdam and Enschede indicate that a private sector-led approach can also be applied to more complex urban development projects within cities. Empirical findings from UK’s private sector-led urban development cases Urban development practice in the UK often is labelled as urban regeneration. Historically, it is strongly shaped by neoliberal political ideology of the Conservative Thatcher government in the 1980s. But it also is influenced by New Labour ideologies favoring the Third Way (Giddens, 1998) aimed at aligning economic, social and environmental policies. However, as a result of these institutional characteristics, the UK is strongly shaped by the understanding that most development is undertaken by private interests or by public bodies acting very much like private interests (Nadin et al., 2008). In general, local authorities depend on initiatives and investments of property developers and investors, because public financial resources and planning powers to actively develop land are limited. As a result, development control of private developments is a concept deeply embedded in development practice. Several legal instruments such as Section 106 agreements are used to establish planning gain by asking developer contributions for public functions. Moreover, urban development in the UK has a strong informal partnership culture, and simultaneously builds upon a strict formal legal public-private role division. These UK urban development practice characteristics provide valid reasons to study private sector-led urban development projects in more detail. The empirical cases of private sector-led urban development projects in the UK are Bristol Harbourside and Liverpool One. They represent mid-2000s strategic inner-city developments with a mixed-use functional program, and therefore possible high complexity. As such, they are relevant urban projects for drawing lessons for the Netherlands. The main conclusions based on cross-case study findings of the UK projects are discussed here. The case contexts show that politics and the often changeable nature of planning policies can have a major influence on the organization and management of development projects. Hence, strong and effective political leadership is considered as a crucial success factor. Changing policies result in re-establishing development conditions resulting in new publicprivate negotiations. In terms of organization, the cases indeed show that local authorities do not take on development risks. Moreover, revenue sharing with private actors is absent or limited to what the actors agree upon in development packages. Furthermore, local authorities encourage all kinds of partnerships with other public, private or civic stakeholders in order to generate development support and raise funds. In terms of management, local authorities use different management measures to influence projects. The cases indicate that public actors are able to influence private sector-led developments and thereby achieve public planning objectives. Importantly, public actors use all kinds of managing tools to shape and stimulate development; they do not limit themselves to regulation but also build capacity for development. However, the largest share of managing the project takes place on behalf of project developers. Private actors manage projects from initial design towards even public space operation (Liverpool). Thereby, they work with long-term investment business models increasing private commitment. In terms of effects, the cases show that although the projects are carried out effectively and achieve high quality levels, the process efficiency lacks behind due to lengthy negotiations. In conclusion, the actors’ experiences with the private sector-led urban development projects indicate some problems including; the financial dependency on private actors, lack of financial incentives for public actors, lack of awareness of civic demands, lack of controlling public opposition, long negotiation processes, and absence of skilled public managers. Moreover, the actors indicate some crucial conditions for a private sectorled approach including; flexible general public guidelines, informal partnerships and joint working, public and private leadership roles and skills, professional attitude and long term commitment of private actors, involvement of local communities, separating public planning and development roles, handling political pressures, and favorable market circumstances. Empirical lessons, improvements and inspiration Some general conclusions from the Dutch and UK case comparison can be drawn (see Table 8.1). The influence of the project’s context in the UK seems to be higher than in the Netherlands, especially political powers and changeable policies influence projects. The organizational role division in UK projects seems to be stricter than in the Dutch projects, where public requirements sometimes are also formulated in more detail. The actor’s management in the Dutch cases is slightly less private sector-led than in the UK, where local authorities and developers are more aware of how to use management measures at their disposal. The project effects show quite some resemblance; effectiveness and spatial quality can be achieved, while efficiency remains difficult to achieve due to the negotiation culture. Here, important empirical lessons learned from cases in both countries are discussed aimed at formulating possible solutions for perceived Dutch problems. The problematic Dutch ‘we against them relationship’ between actors in the UK is handled by a close collaboration. Developers organize regular informative and interactive design meetings with local authorities, sharing ideas in a ‘joint-up working’ atmosphere. The lack of public role consistency in the UK is resolved by local authorities that develop a clear schedule of spatial requirements which provides certainty. Moreover, room for negotiations allows for the flexibility to react on changed circumstances. The thin line between judgment and control of plans is not commonly recognized in the UK cases. Local authorities tend to respect that developers need room to carry out development activities on their own professional insights, and merely control if developers deliver ‘product specifications’ in time and to agreed conditions. The commitment and competencies of public project managers are also mentioned as crucial factors in the UK. It involves managers connecting the project to the political and civic environment, and leaders committing themselves to project support through communication with local communities. The lack of public management seems to be a Dutch perceived difficulty as UK local authorities do not apply active land development policies and ‘hard’ management resources. Therefore, they influence development with both more consciously applied legal tools and ‘soft’ management skills such as negotiating. Recommended improvements mentioned by Dutch practitioners here are mirrored to possible support from the UK cases. The Dutch recommendation to cooperate in pre-development stages to create public project support and commitment finds support in the UK. Hence, despite a formal division of public and private responsibilities, in practice a lot of informal public-private interaction and collaboration takes place and seems necessary. Striving for public role consistency also is an appreciated value by developers in the UK. Working on the principle of ‘agreement is agreement’ creates certainty for developers, and less resistance and willingness to cooperate once highly relevant public issues are put on the table. Establishing clear process agreements with moments of control or discussion in the UK are handled with evaluation moments aimed at judging output, and planned meetings aimed at creating a dialogue about new insights. Connecting planning and development processes in the UK is handled by a municipal team consisting of political leaders and project managers that align development processes with administrative planning processes. A clear communication plan to involve local communities and businesses in the UK is handled by developers which involve relevant stakeholders in the decision-making process prior to planning applications for support and process efficiency. Finding public opportunities to influence development other than land and capital in the UK is handled through the use of several public planning tools and publicprivate negotiations. The UK cases also provided various inspirational lessons for the Netherlands. First, the construction and application of a public ‘management toolbox’ consisting of various planning tools that shape, stimulate, regulate and activate the market could assist local authorities to view management more integratively and use existing instruments more consciously. Second, choosing a private development partner with professional expertise, track record and local knowledge, instead of an economically lucrative private tender offer for private sector-led urban development projects, has the advantage of creating a cooperative relationship. The reason for this is that flexible development concepts rather than fixed development plans are indicators of a cooperative attitude of a developer. Third, enabling partnership agreements between public, private and civic actors aimed at creating wide support and long-term commitment by expressing development intentions assists pulling together development resources from both investors and central government. Fourth, privately-owned public space based on a land lease agreement containing public space conditions creates several financial advantages. For local authorities it eliminates public maintenance costs, and for private actors the operation of the area and maintaining high quality standards can be beneficial for real estate sales and returns. Fifth, the value increase-oriented investment model of a long-term private development investor rather than a short-term project-oriented developer with a trade-off model between time, costs and quality has advantages. Large amounts of upfront investment can more easily be financed as high quality environments and properties increase the area’s competitive position and investment returns. Sixth, local authorities can establish partnerships that actively apply for public funding alternatives such as lottery funds. Such funds secure the development of public functions and create interest for commercial actors to invest, which can result possibilities to negotiate development packages which can results in a planning gain for public actors. Seventh, public and private leadership styles on different organizational levels for inner-city development projects result in more efficient processes. Appointing strategictactical operating political leaders and private firm directors and tactical-operational public and private project leaders streamlines internal and external communication and shared project commitment and support. Finally, the UK shows that a private sector-led approach can successfully be applied to complex inner-city developments. Despite the complex social and political character, fragmented land ownership situation, and high remediation costs UK developers can deliver such projects succesfully. Conditions seem a professionally skilled and financially empowered developer, and active local authorities that facilitate market initiatives. The likelihood of transfer of the inspirational UK lessons depends on some Dutch institutional characteristics (economics & politics, governance culture, planning system and policies). However, most lessons are context-independent and thus can be applied in the Dutch urban development practice. But, Table 8.2 also shows some institutional context-dependent features that limit the transfer of UK findings to the Netherlands. This includes the general short-term scope of Dutch developers and the general wish from municipalities to hold ‘control’ over development projects. Reflections on safeguarding public interests & alternative financing instruments The epilogue contains conceptual reflections about alternative ways for safeguarding public interests and private financing instruments in line with the current social-economic climate. These reflections are not based on research findings but on an additional literature review that provides food for thought for public and private actors in urban development. Hence, safeguarding public interests is an important concern for public actors, especially in market-oriented planning and private sector-led urban development projects. In our pluralistic society it has become impossible for one actor to determine the public interest in all occasions. In line with societal development it would not only be socially-coherent for governments to engage private and civic actors in safeguarding public interests, but even a social necessity. Consciously applying different public interest safeguarding strategies based on both hierarchical, market and network mechanisms (De Bruijn & Dicke, 2006) provide this opportunity. By using a combination of legitimized hierarchical mechanisms, competitionoriented market mechanisms, and inter-action oriented network mechanisms, public values become institutionalized in private and civic sectors. Then, the role of public planning institutions in safeguarding increasing economic values, social cohesion and public health is to use both legitimate planning tools and accountable planning activities. It enables other actors to become both more responsible for and involved in their own built environment. In market-oriented planning and private sector-led urban projects, safeguarding public interest instruments include non-negotiable general planning standards which secure basic needs of civilians, and negotiable development conditions which create involvement of other actors. Non-negotiable safeguarding instruments include; public tender requirements, land use plans, planning permissions and financial claims. Negotiable safeguarding instruments include; contractual conditions, competitive dialogues, spatial quality plans, developer contributions, development incentives, performance indicators, and ownership (see Figure 10.2). The reliance of private investment in private sector-led urban development projects asks for exploring alternative financing instruments for urban projects with less reliance on credit capital. This is a crucial subject being the result of the effect the current economic situation has on the land and property market. Hence, it is widely acknowledged that in many development practices around the globe property investment for urban development has changed radically as a result of the international credit crisis and economic downturn (Parkinson et al., 2009). ‘New financial models’ have the attention of several Dutch practitioners (e.g. Van Rooy, 2011) and academics (e.g. Van der Krabben, 2011b). In the current Dutch urban development practice, one notices an increased interest in demand-driven development strategies promoting; bottom-up development initiatives, value-oriented investment strategies, and de-risked phasing of development, which potentially increase the feasibility of urban projects. A literature review indicates promising alternative financing instruments for Dutch urban development practice and private sector-led urban development projects, including; Tax Increment Financing, Temporary Development/Investment Grants, Lottery Funds, DBFM/ Concession Light, Crowd Funding, Urban Development Trusts, Business Improvement Districts, and Urban Reparcelling. These instruments have different features such as investment source, development incentives, organizational requirements and object conditions, which need to be taken into account by public and private actors once applied (see Table 10.3).

Central to this research lays the concept of private sector-led urban development projects (Heurkens, 2010). Such projects involve project developers taking a leading role and local authorities adopting a facilitating role, in managing the development of an urban area, based on a clear public-private role division. Such a development strategy is quite common in Anglo-Saxon urban development practices, but is less known in Continental European practices. Nonetheless, since the beginning of the millennium such a development strategy also occurred in the Netherlands in the form of ‘concessions’. However, remarkably little empirical knowledge is available about how public and private actors collaborate on and manage private sector-led urban development projects. Moreover, it remains unclear what the effects of such projects are. This dissertation provides an understanding of the various characteristics of private sector-led urban development projects by conducting empirical case study research in the institutional contexts of the Netherlands and the UK. The research provides an answer to the following research question: What can we learn from private sector-led urban development projects in the Netherlands and UK in terms of the collaborative and managerial roles of public and private actors, and the effects of their (inter)actions? Indications for a market-oriented Dutch urban development practice Urban development practice in the Netherlands has been subject to changes pointing towards more private sector involvement in the built environment in the past decades. Although the current economic recession might indicate otherwise, there are several motives that indicate a continuation of private sector involvement and a private leadership role in Dutch urban development projects in the future. First, a shift towards more market-oriented development practice is the result of an evolutionary process of increased ‘neoliberalization’ and the adoption of Anglo-Saxon principles in Dutch society. Despite its Rhineland roots with a focus on welfare provision, in the Netherlands several neoliberal principles (privatization, decentralization, deregulation) have been adopted by government and incorporated in the management of organizations (Bakker et al., 2005). Hence, market institutionalization on the one hand, and rising civic emancipation on the other, in current Western societies prevents a return towards hierarchical governance. Second, the result of such changes is the emergence of a market-oriented type of planning practice based on the concept of ‘development planning’. Public-Private Partnerships and the ‘forward integration’ of market parties (De Zeeuw, 2007) enforce the role of market actors. In historical perspective, Boelens et al. (2006) argue that Dutch spatial planning always has been characterized by public-private collaborations in which governments facilitated private and civic entrepreneurship. Therefore, post-war public-led spatial planning with necessary government intervention was a ‘temporary hiccup’, an exception to the rule. Third, the European Commission expresses concerns about the hybrid role of public actors in Dutch institutionalized PPP joint ventures. EU legislation opts for formal public-private role divisions in realizing urban projects based on Anglo-Saxon law that comply with the legislative tendering principles of competition, transparency, equality, and public legitimacy. Fourth, experiences with joint ventures in the Netherlands are less positive as often is advocated. Such institutionalized public-private entities have seldom generated the assumed added value, caused by misconceptions about the objectives of both partners grounded in incompatible value systems. This results in contra-productive levels of distrust, time-consuming partnership formations, lack of transparency, and compromising decision-making processes (Teisman & Klijn, 2002), providing a need for other forms of collaboration. Finally, current financial retrenchments in the public sector and debates about the possible abundance of Dutch active land development policies point towards a lean and mean government that moves away from risk-bearing participation and investment in urban projects and leaves this to the market. Importantly, Van der Krabben (2011b) argues that the Dutch active public land development policies can be considered as an international exception, and advocates for facilitating land development policies. In this light, it becomes highly relevant to study private sector-led urban development as a future Dutch urban development strategy. Integrative urban management approach This research is rooted in the research school of Urban Area Development within the Department of Real Estate and Housing at the Faculty of Architecture (Delft University of Technology). It is a relatively young academic domain which views urban development most profoundly as a complex management assignment (Bruil et al., 2004; Franzen et al., 2011). This academic school uses an integrative perspective with a strong practice-orientation and carries out solution-oriented design research. Here, the integration involves bridging various actor interests, spatial functions, spatial scales, academic domains, knowledge and skills, development goals, and links process with content aspects. Such a perspective does justice to complex societal processes. Therefore it provides a fruitful ground for studying urban development aimed at developing conceptual knowledge and product for science and practice. Such integrative perspective and practice-orientation forms the basis of this research and has been applied in the following manner. In order to create an understanding of the roles of public and private actors in private sector-led urban development, this research takes a management perspective based on an integrative management approach. This involves viewing management more broadly as ‘any type of direct influencing’ urban development projects, and therefore aims at bridging often separated management theories (Osborne, 2000a). Hence, an integrative management approach assists in both understanding urban development practices and projects and constructing useful conceptual tools for practitioners and academics. Integrative approaches attempt to combine a number of different elements into a more holistic management approach (Black & Porter, 2000). Importantly, it does not view the management of projects in isolation but in its entire complexity and dynamics. Therefore, our management approach combines two integrative management theories; the open systems theory (De Leeuw, 2002) and contingency theory. The former provides opportunities to study the management of a project in a structured manner. The latter emphasizes that there is no universally effective way of managing and recognizes the importance of contextual circumstances. Hence, an integrative management approach favors incorporating theories from multiple academic domains such as political science, economics, law, business administration, and organizational and management concepts. Hence, it moves away from the classical academic division between planning theory and property theory, and organization and management theories. It positions itself in between such academic domains, and aims at bridging theoretical viewpoints by following the concept of planning ánd markets (Alexander, 2001) rather than concepts such as ‘planning versus markets’, public versus private sector, and organization versus management. Also, such an integrative view values the complexity and dynamics of empirical urban development practices. More specifically, this research studies urban development projects as object, as urban areas are the focus point of spatial intervention and public-private interaction (Daamen, 2010), and thus collaboration and management. Here, public planning processes and private development processes merge with each other. Thus, our research continues to build upon the importance of studying and reflecting on empirical practices and projects (e.g. Healey, 2006). In addition to these authors, this research does so by using meaningful integrative concepts that reflect empirical realities of urban projects. Thereby, this research serves to bridge management sciences with management practices (Van Aken, 2004; Mintzberg, 2010) through iterative processes of reflecting on science and practice. Moreover, the integrative management approach applied in this research assists in filling an academic gap, namely the lack of management knowledge about public-private interaction in urban development projects. Despite the vast amount of literature on the governance of planning practices (e.g. DiGaetano & Strom, 2003), and Public-Private Partnerships (e.g. Osborne, 2000b), remarkable little knowledge exists about what shifting public-private relationships mean for day-to-day management by public and private actors in development projects. Hence, here we follow the main argument made by public administration scholar Klijn (2008) who claims that it is such direct actor influence that brings about the most significant change to the built environment. An integrative urban management model (see Figure 2.3) based on the open systems approach has been constructed which forms a conceptual representation of empirical private sectorled urban development projects. This model serves as an analytical tool to comprehend the complexity of managing such projects. In this research, several theoretical insights about publicprivate relations and roles are used to understand different contextual and organizational factors that affect the management of private sector-led urban development projects. Hence, a project context exists within different often country-specific institutional environments (e.g. the Netherlands and UK). In this research, contextual aspects that to a degree determine the way public and private actors inter-organize urban projects, consist of economics & politics, governance cultures, and planning systems and policies. Hence, institutional values are deeply rooted in social welfare models (Nadin & Stead, 2008). For instance, the differences between Anglo-Saxon and Rhineland model principles also determine public-private relationships. However, the process of neoliberalization (Hackworth, 2007) and subsequent adaptation of neoliberal political ideologies (Harvey, 2005) has created quite similar governance arrangements in Western countries. Nevertheless, institutional rules incorporated in planning systems, laws and policies often remain country-specific. But, market-oriented planning, involving ‘planners as market actors’ (Adams & Tiesdell, 2010) intervening and operating within market systems, have become the most commonly shared feature of contemporary Western urban development practices (Carmona et al., 2009). In this research, the project organization focuses on institutional aspects and interorganizational arrangements that structure Public-Private Partnerships (Bult-Spiering & Dewulf, 2002). It involves studying organizational tasks and responsibilities, financial risks and revenues, and legal rules and requirements. Inter-organizational arrangements condition the way public and private actors manage projects. Hence, such arrangements can be placed on a public-private spectrum (Börzel & Risse, 2002) which indicates different power relations in terms of public and private autonomy and dominance (Savitch, 1997) in making planning decisions. These public-private power relations are reflected in different Public-Private Partnership arrangements (Bennet et al., 2000) in urban development projects. As a result, in some contexts these partnerships arrangements are formalized into organizational vehicles or legal contracts, in others there is an emphasis on informal partnerships and interaction. The lack of management knowledge on private sector-led urban development projects, and our view of management as any type of direct influencing, results in constructing a conceptual public-private urban management model (see Figure SUM.1). This model is based on both theoretical concepts and empirical reflection. In this research, the management of project processes by public and private actors contains applying both management activities and instruments. Project management (Wijnen et al., 2004) includes development stage-oriented initiating, designing, planning, and operating activities. Process management (Teisman, 2003) includes interaction-oriented negotiating, decision-making, and communicating activities. Management tools consist of legal-oriented shaping, regulating, stimulating, and capacity building planning tools (Adams et al., 2004). And management resources consist of crucial necessities (Burie, 1978) for realizing urban projects like land, capital and knowledge. In essence, all these management measures can be applied by public and private actors to influence (private sector-led) urban development projects. These management measures can be used by actors to reach project effects. In this research, project effects are perceived as judgment criteria for indicating the success of the management of private sector-led urban development projects. They consist of cooperation effectiveness, process efficiency, and spatial quality. Effectiveness involves the degree to which objectives are achieved and problems are resolved. Ef ficiency is the degree to which the process is considered as efficiently realizing projects within time and budget. Finally, spatial quality is the degree to which the project contributes to responding to user, experience and future values of involved actors (Hooijmeijer et al., 2001). Such process and product effects are a crucial addition to understand the results of private sector-led urban development projects. Comparative case study research using a lesson-drawing method This research systematically analyzes and compares private sector-led urban development cases in both the Netherlands and the UK in a specific methodological way. In essence, this study is an empirical comparative case study research using a lesson-drawing method. Hence, case studies allow for an empirical inquiry that investigates a contemporary phenomenon within its real life context (Yin, 2003). Such a qualitative approach is very suited for the purposes of this research as it enables revealing empirical collaborative and managerial mechanisms within private sector-led urban development projects. The reason to include studying the UK lies is the fact that it can be considered as a market-oriented development practice, from which valuable lessons can be drawn for the Netherlands. Thereby, this research places itself in a longer tradition of Dutch interests in UK planning and development (e.g. Hobma et al., 2008). Hence, this research aims at drawing lessons in the form of ‘inspiration’ from practices and projects, as opposed to the more far-reaching transplantation of spatial policies (e.g. Janssen-Jansen et al., 2008). However, in order to draw meaningful empirical lessons there is a need to indicate whether they are context-dependent or -independent. This requires systematically comparing the institutional planning practices of both countries by indicating differences and similarities between the Netherlands and the UK. Based on these methodological principles ten Dutch and two UK of private sector-led urban development cases are selected and studied. The Dutch cases focus on scope over depth aimed at sketching the phenomenon of ‘area concessions’ in both inner-city and urban fringe projects. The UK cases focus on depth over scope aimed at understanding the applicability of a private sector-led approach in complex large-scale inner-city projects. As techniques the case study research uses document reviews, semi-structured interviews, project visits, and data mapping. Comparing Dutch and UK planning and urban development practices The institutional context of urban development in the Netherlands and the UK shows some structural differences, despite the fact that such contexts are often subject to change. For instance, the Dutch planning system uses Napoleonic codified law based on a constitution with abstract law principles as rule, and a limited role of judicial power. The UK planning system is based on British common law lacking a constitution, and uses law-making-as-we-go as judges act as law-makers. In terms of spatial planning, the Netherlands is characterized by binding land use plans within a limited-imperative system based on legal certainty. Dutch spatial planning can be labelled as ‘permitted planning’ based on ‘comprehensive integrative model’ (Dühr et al., 2010) which involves hierarchically coordinated and related public sector spatial plans. UK spatial planning has no binding land use plan, places importance on material considerations based on discretionary authority and flexibility. Historically, UK’s spatial planning can be labelled as ‘development-oriented planning’ based on a ‘land use management model’ with a focus on public sector coordinated planning policies. Moreover, Dutch and UK urban development also differ in terms of public and private roles in organizing and managing development (Heurkens, 2009). In the Netherlands, local governments are active bodies using spatial plans, active land development policies and public investment to develop cities. The private sector often operates reactively and is historically focused on the physical realization of projects. In general, public-private decision-making processes are based on reaching consensus, development project coordination typically involves ‘collaboration models’, and management is focused on process as product outcomes. In the UK, local government uses relatively less regulations and investment to develop cities, thereby facilitating market parties. The development industry is a mature sector, actively initiating and investing in projects. Decision-making is characterized by negotiations, and the organization of projects is often based on a clear formal public-private role division. Despite such a generic Dutch-UK comparison being of crucial importance to this research, it does no justice to increasing similarities between European planning practices. Moreover, such institutional contexts evolve as a result of changing planning priorities in each country. For instance, some basic characteristics of the UK planning system attracted the attention of Dutch planners, including comprehensive principles for project coordination, private sector involvement and negotiations, options for the settlement of ‘planning gain’, packaging interests, development-oriented planning, and discretion for planning decisions (Spaans, 2005). Hence, such more market-oriented planning principles have become valuable and sometimes necessary mechanisms to effectively cope with an increasingly less public-led and more private sector-led Dutch urban development practice. Empirical findings from Dutch private sector-led urban development cases Urban development practice in the Netherlands since the year 2000 witnessed an increased use of the concession model. Hence, this is the Dutch definition for private sector-led urban development. It can best be characterized as a contract form between public and private parties which involves the transfer of risks, revenues, responsibilities for the plan, land and real estate development to private developers based on pre-defined set of public requirements (Gijzen, 2009). In theory (Van Rooy, 2007; Van de Klundert, 2008; Heurkens et al., 2008) this collaboration model holds promising advantages of being a more effective, efficient and transparent strategy to achieve a high quality built environment. Nonetheless, possible disadvantages like the lack of public ‘steering’, dependency of market actors and circumstances, inflexible contracts, a project management orientation, and a stern public-private relationship also are mentioned. Moreover, conditions for the application of concessions in theory involve a manageable project scale and duration, minimal political and societal complexity, and maximum freedom for private actors. Motives for choosing concessions are the lack of public labor capacity and financial development means, risk transfer to private actors, increasing private initiatives and private land ownership. Hence, in theory public and private roles in the concession model are considered as strictly separated. However, there is a lack of structural empirical understanding and evidence for such theoretical assumptions. Therefore, empirical cases in Amsterdam, The Hague, Enschede, Maassluis, Middelburg, Naaldwijk, Rotterdam, Tilburg, Utrecht, and Velsen (see Table 5.1) are carried out. This includes studying private sector-led projects in both inner-city and urban fringe locations. The main conclusions based on cross-case study findings of these ten Dutch projects are highlighted here. Notice that public-private interaction and collaboration remains of vital importance in Dutch private sector-led urban development projects. Despite the formal contractual separation of public and private tasks and responsibilities, in practice close informal cooperation can be witnessed, especially in the early development stages. Moreover, public actors do not remain as risk free as theory suggests, because unfavorable market circumstances can cause development delays affecting the living environment of inhabitants. Furthermore, it seems that constructing and using flexible public requirements with some non-negotiable rules is an effective condition for realizing public objectives during the process. In terms of management, most projects are hardly considered as solely private sector-led, as they involve a substantial amount of public management influence. For instance, project management activities include a dominant role of municipalities in initiating and operating the development. Process management activities are carried out by both actors, as they involve close public-private interactions. Management tools are mostly used by public actors to shape and regulate development with a limited conscious usage of stimulating and capacity building tools. Using the management resources land, capital and knowledge are mainly a private affair. In terms of effects, the concession model by actors is considered as an effective instrument, but not necessarily results in efficient processes. The general perception of public, private and civic actors about the project’s spatial quality level is positive. In addition, actors were asked about their cooperation experiences. Often mentioned problems include a ‘we against them relationship’, lack of public role consistency, thin line between plan judgment and control, public manager’s commitment and competency, communication with local communities, and lack of public management opportunities. Based on the empirical case studies, most conditions for applying concessions are confirmed. However, the successful inner-city development projects in Amsterdam and Enschede indicate that a private sector-led approach can also be applied to more complex urban development projects within cities. Empirical findings from UK’s private sector-led urban development cases Urban development practice in the UK often is labelled as urban regeneration. Historically, it is strongly shaped by neoliberal political ideology of the Conservative Thatcher government in the 1980s. But it also is influenced by New Labour ideologies favoring the Third Way (Giddens, 1998) aimed at aligning economic, social and environmental policies. However, as a result of these institutional characteristics, the UK is strongly shaped by the understanding that most development is undertaken by private interests or by public bodies acting very much like private interests (Nadin et al., 2008). In general, local authorities depend on initiatives and investments of property developers and investors, because public financial resources and planning powers to actively develop land are limited. As a result, development control of private developments is a concept deeply embedded in development practice. Several legal instruments such as Section 106 agreements are used to establish planning gain by asking developer contributions for public functions. Moreover, urban development in the UK has a strong informal partnership culture, and simultaneously builds upon a strict formal legal public-private role division. These UK urban development practice characteristics provide valid reasons to study private sector-led urban development projects in more detail. The empirical cases of private sector-led urban development projects in the UK are Bristol Harbourside and Liverpool One. They represent mid-2000s strategic inner-city developments with a mixed-use functional program, and therefore possible high complexity. As such, they are relevant urban projects for drawing lessons for the Netherlands. The main conclusions based on cross-case study findings of the UK projects are discussed here. The case contexts show that politics and the often changeable nature of planning policies can have a major influence on the organization and management of development projects. Hence, strong and effective political leadership is considered as a crucial success factor. Changing policies result in re-establishing development conditions resulting in new publicprivate negotiations. In terms of organization, the cases indeed show that local authorities do not take on development risks. Moreover, revenue sharing with private actors is absent or limited to what the actors agree upon in development packages. Furthermore, local authorities encourage all kinds of partnerships with other public, private or civic stakeholders in order to generate development support and raise funds. In terms of management, local authorities use different management measures to influence projects. The cases indicate that public actors are able to influence private sector-led developments and thereby achieve public planning objectives. Importantly, public actors use all kinds of managing tools to shape and stimulate development; they do not limit themselves to regulation but also build capacity for development. However, the largest share of managing the project takes place on behalf of project developers. Private actors manage projects from initial design towards even public space operation (Liverpool). Thereby, they work with long-term investment business models increasing private commitment. In terms of effects, the cases show that although the projects are carried out effectively and achieve high quality levels, the process efficiency lacks behind due to lengthy negotiations. In conclusion, the actors’ experiences with the private sector-led urban development projects indicate some problems including; the financial dependency on private actors, lack of financial incentives for public actors, lack of awareness of civic demands, lack of controlling public opposition, long negotiation processes, and absence of skilled public managers. Moreover, the actors indicate some crucial conditions for a private sectorled approach including; flexible general public guidelines, informal partnerships and joint working, public and private leadership roles and skills, professional attitude and long term commitment of private actors, involvement of local communities, separating public planning and development roles, handling political pressures, and favorable market circumstances. Empirical lessons, improvements and inspiration Some general conclusions from the Dutch and UK case comparison can be drawn (see Table 8.1). The influence of the project’s context in the UK seems to be higher than in the Netherlands, especially political powers and changeable policies influence projects. The organizational role division in UK projects seems to be stricter than in the Dutch projects, where public requirements sometimes are also formulated in more detail. The actor’s management in the Dutch cases is slightly less private sector-led than in the UK, where local authorities and developers are more aware of how to use management measures at their disposal. The project effects show quite some resemblance; effectiveness and spatial quality can be achieved, while efficiency remains difficult to achieve due to the negotiation culture. Here, important empirical lessons learned from cases in both countries are discussed aimed at formulating possible solutions for perceived Dutch problems. The problematic Dutch ‘we against them relationship’ between actors in the UK is handled by a close collaboration. Developers organize regular informative and interactive design meetings with local authorities, sharing ideas in a ‘joint-up working’ atmosphere. The lack of public role consistency in the UK is resolved by local authorities that develop a clear schedule of spatial requirements which provides certainty. Moreover, room for negotiations allows for the flexibility to react on changed circumstances. The thin line between judgment and control of plans is not commonly recognized in the UK cases. Local authorities tend to respect that developers need room to carry out development activities on their own professional insights, and merely control if developers deliver ‘product specifications’ in time and to agreed conditions. The commitment and competencies of public project managers are also mentioned as crucial factors in the UK. It involves managers connecting the project to the political and civic environment, and leaders committing themselves to project support through communication with local communities. The lack of public management seems to be a Dutch perceived difficulty as UK local authorities do not apply active land development policies and ‘hard’ management resources. Therefore, they influence development with both more consciously applied legal tools and ‘soft’ management skills such as negotiating. Recommended improvements mentioned by Dutch practitioners here are mirrored to possible support from the UK cases. The Dutch recommendation to cooperate in pre-development stages to create public project support and commitment finds support in the UK. Hence, despite a formal division of public and private responsibilities, in practice a lot of informal public-private interaction and collaboration takes place and seems necessary. Striving for public role consistency also is an appreciated value by developers in the UK. Working on the principle of ‘agreement is agreement’ creates certainty for developers, and less resistance and willingness to cooperate once highly relevant public issues are put on the table. Establishing clear process agreements with moments of control or discussion in the UK are handled with evaluation moments aimed at judging output, and planned meetings aimed at creating a dialogue about new insights. Connecting planning and development processes in the UK is handled by a municipal team consisting of political leaders and project managers that align development processes with administrative planning processes. A clear communication plan to involve local communities and businesses in the UK is handled by developers which involve relevant stakeholders in the decision-making process prior to planning applications for support and process efficiency. Finding public opportunities to influence development other than land and capital in the UK is handled through the use of several public planning tools and publicprivate negotiations. The UK cases also provided various inspirational lessons for the Netherlands. First, the construction and application of a public ‘management toolbox’ consisting of various planning tools that shape, stimulate, regulate and activate the market could assist local authorities to view management more integratively and use existing instruments more consciously. Second, choosing a private development partner with professional expertise, track record and local knowledge, instead of an economically lucrative private tender offer for private sector-led urban development projects, has the advantage of creating a cooperative relationship. The reason for this is that flexible development concepts rather than fixed development plans are indicators of a cooperative attitude of a developer. Third, enabling partnership agreements between public, private and civic actors aimed at creating wide support and long-term commitment by expressing development intentions assists pulling together development resources from both investors and central government. Fourth, privately-owned public space based on a land lease agreement containing public space conditions creates several financial advantages. For local authorities it eliminates public maintenance costs, and for private actors the operation of the area and maintaining high quality standards can be beneficial for real estate sales and returns. Fifth, the value increase-oriented investment model of a long-term private development investor rather than a short-term project-oriented developer with a trade-off model between time, costs and quality has advantages. Large amounts of upfront investment can more easily be financed as high quality environments and properties increase the area’s competitive position and investment returns. Sixth, local authorities can establish partnerships that actively apply for public funding alternatives such as lottery funds. Such funds secure the development of public functions and create interest for commercial actors to invest, which can result possibilities to negotiate development packages which can results in a planning gain for public actors. Seventh, public and private leadership styles on different organizational levels for inner-city development projects result in more efficient processes. Appointing strategictactical operating political leaders and private firm directors and tactical-operational public and private project leaders streamlines internal and external communication and shared project commitment and support. Finally, the UK shows that a private sector-led approach can successfully be applied to complex inner-city developments. Despite the complex social and political character, fragmented land ownership situation, and high remediation costs UK developers can deliver such projects succesfully. Conditions seem a professionally skilled and financially empowered developer, and active local authorities that facilitate market initiatives. The likelihood of transfer of the inspirational UK lessons depends on some Dutch institutional characteristics (economics & politics, governance culture, planning system and policies). However, most lessons are context-independent and thus can be applied in the Dutch urban development practice. But, Table 8.2 also shows some institutional context-dependent features that limit the transfer of UK findings to the Netherlands. This includes the general short-term scope of Dutch developers and the general wish from municipalities to hold ‘control’ over development projects. Reflections on safeguarding public interests & alternative financing instruments The epilogue contains conceptual reflections about alternative ways for safeguarding public interests and private financing instruments in line with the current social-economic climate. These reflections are not based on research findings but on an additional literature review that provides food for thought for public and private actors in urban development. Hence, safeguarding public interests is an important concern for public actors, especially in market-oriented planning and private sector-led urban development projects. In our pluralistic society it has become impossible for one actor to determine the public interest in all occasions. In line with societal development it would not only be socially-coherent for governments to engage private and civic actors in safeguarding public interests, but even a social necessity. Consciously applying different public interest safeguarding strategies based on both hierarchical, market and network mechanisms (De Bruijn & Dicke, 2006) provide this opportunity. By using a combination of legitimized hierarchical mechanisms, competitionoriented market mechanisms, and inter-action oriented network mechanisms, public values become institutionalized in private and civic sectors. Then, the role of public planning institutions in safeguarding increasing economic values, social cohesion and public health is to use both legitimate planning tools and accountable planning activities. It enables other actors to become both more responsible for and involved in their own built environment. In market-oriented planning and private sector-led urban projects, safeguarding public interest instruments include non-negotiable general planning standards which secure basic needs of civilians, and negotiable development conditions which create involvement of other actors. Non-negotiable safeguarding instruments include; public tender requirements, land use plans, planning permissions and financial claims. Negotiable safeguarding instruments include; contractual conditions, competitive dialogues, spatial quality plans, developer contributions, development incentives, performance indicators, and ownership (see Figure 10.2). The reliance of private investment in private sector-led urban development projects asks for exploring alternative financing instruments for urban projects with less reliance on credit capital. This is a crucial subject being the result of the effect the current economic situation has on the land and property market. Hence, it is widely acknowledged that in many development practices around the globe property investment for urban development has changed radically as a result of the international credit crisis and economic downturn (Parkinson et al., 2009). ‘New financial models’ have the attention of several Dutch practitioners (e.g. Van Rooy, 2011) and academics (e.g. Van der Krabben, 2011b). In the current Dutch urban development practice, one notices an increased interest in demand-driven development strategies promoting; bottom-up development initiatives, value-oriented investment strategies, and de-risked phasing of development, which potentially increase the feasibility of urban projects. A literature review indicates promising alternative financing instruments for Dutch urban development practice and private sector-led urban development projects, including; Tax Increment Financing, Temporary Development/Investment Grants, Lottery Funds, DBFM/ Concession Light, Crowd Funding, Urban Development Trusts, Business Improvement Districts, and Urban Reparcelling. These instruments have different features such as investment source, development incentives, organizational requirements and object conditions, which need to be taken into account by public and private actors once applied (see Table 10.3).