Letteratura scientifica selezionata sul tema "Captivity, 2011-2013"

Growth of the freshwater prawn (Macrobrachium rosenbergii) sector in Bangladesh since 1970s has been supported by natural availability of freshwater apple snail (Pila globosa), used for on-farm prawn feeds. The present study identified the current configuration of the value-chain benefits and constraints of freshwater apple snail in south-western Bangladesh in August 2011, based upon Rapid Market Appraisal (RMA) approach. The site of snail collection was Chanda Beel in Gopalganj district, while trading, processing and final consumption was represented by Rayer Mahal Bazar in Khulna district. There were seven different nodes recognized throughout the value chain. Snail marketing was identified as a seasonal business and took place during June to November each year. Between 1995 and 2011 the price of whole snail, meat and shell has increased by 800%, 325% and 315%, respectively. The abundance of snail had been reduced and its demand has increased due to the expansion of the prawn farming industry. Prawn farmers preferred snail meat due to its’ low cost (US$ 0.21 kg-1) as a source of protein compared to commercial prawn feed (US$ 0.41 kg-1). Snail harvesting and processing were considered as additional livelihood options for the poor, where 60% of the labour involved in snail harvesting were women, and 95% the de-shelling workforce. Induced breeding in captivity and sustainable management in nature as well as development of commercial production of apple snails might reduce the pressure on ecosystems and positively contributed to the continued expansion of freshwater prawn farming in Bangladesh. DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.3329/ijarit.v3i2.17840 Int. J. Agril. Res. Innov. & Tech. 3 (2): 22-30, December, 2013

In German and Russian historiography, the tragic fate of the Soviet prisoners of war in Germany during the Second World War has not been suffi- ciently explored. Very few researchers have addressed this topic in recent times. In the contemporary German society, the subject remains obscured. There are attempts to reflect this tragedy in documentary films. The author analyses the destiny of the documentary film “Keine Kameraden”, which was shot in 2011 and has not yet been shown on the German television. It tells the story of the Soviet prisoners of war, most of whom died in the Nazi concentration camps in 1941– 1945. The personal history of some of the Soviet soldiers who died in the German captivity is reflected, their lives before the war are described, and the relatives of the deceased and the surviving prisoners of war are interviewed. The film features the German historians who have written books about the Soviet prisoners. All the attempts taken by the civil society organizations and the historians to influence the German public opinion so that the film could be shown on German television to a wider audience were unsuccessful. The film was seen by the viewers in Italy on the state channel RAI 3. Even earlier, in 2013, the film was shown in Russia on the channel “Kultura” and received the Pushkin Prize.

Severe declines of the mountain yellow-legged frog (MYLF, Rana muscosa) led to establishment of a captive population at the San Diego Zoo Institute for Conservation Research. With less than 200 adults estimated to remain in the wild, the Institute’s MYLF colony currently holds approximately 30% of the entire gene pool. Simulating natural seasonality by artificial brumation and manipulation of atmospheric temperature and light cycles is an integral part of this species’ management in captivity. However, over 5 years, the number of females that have oviposited has decreased from 80% in 2011 to 28% in 2014. It is unclear if changes in reproduction are related to husbandry or a lack of information regarding the natural reproductive cycles of these animals. Therefore, we examined the effects of hormone treatments on reproduction in the MYLF captive population. Prior to breeding, 21 females and 18 males were evenly assigned to either a control group (IP injection of PBS) or hormone-treated group [IP injection of gonadotropic releasing hormone (GnRH, D-Ala6, des-GLy10 ethylamide LHRH derivative) at 0.4 µg g–1 of body weight and metoclopramide (dopamine inhibitor) at 10 µg g–1 of body weight]. Males and females were housed in groups of 3 males and 3 females and allowed to choose their mate. Once a male had amplexed a female they were housed in pairs until oviposition occurred or until males ceased amplexus. Responses recorded during this study included amplexus, spermiation, oviposition, and embryonic cleavage. There was no significant difference in the number of eggs deposited by females treated with hormones and untreated controls (P = 0.1949) nor were there any differences between groups in the number of embryos that cleaved (P = 0.673) or survived to tadpole stage (P = 0.629). No significant differences were detected between the numbers of males that amplexed in the control or treated groups (P = 0.1120). Urine collected from 10/18 amplexed males (7 hormone-treated and 3 controls) indicated that 57% percent of hormone-treated males and 67% of control males were spermiating at the time of collection. Therefore, hormone treatments did not increase the number of eggs oviposited or the number of males spermiating or amplexing. Closer analysis of individual female reproductive histories indicated that 48% of captive female MYLF oviposited just once in 5 years, 40% in 2 consecutive years, 8% oviposited eggs in 2 consecutive years, skipped a year, and then oviposited again in 2 consecutive years, and 4% oviposited in 3 consecutive years. The number of females ovipositing in 2015 was significantly higher than 2012 (P = 0.0002), 2013 (P = 0.0001), and 2014 (P = 0.0026), but not 2011 (P = 0.0885), suggesting breeding may not occur annually in females. Understanding the breeding cycles of MYLF females will enable managers to determine if and when hormone administration is efficacious in captive amphibian breeding populations.

We analyzed 19 years of data collected by the São Paulo Veterinary Medicine and Wild Fauna Management Technical Department involving cases of avifauna predation by domestic dogs and cats to determine the potential species conservation impacts. The four species most frequently affected were: the ruddy ground dove, the rufous-bellied Thrush, the plain parakeet and the great kiskadee. Cats were responsible for 77.6% of the total attacks, whereas dogs were responsible for 22%. The majority of predation events occurred in households (57.4%) and most of the attacked birds died (71.3%). Only 27.2% of the animals survived; these were either released (25.4% of the total), or kept in captivity (1.8%). Our data indicates that domestic pets can represent a considerable impact factor on avifauna survival.

Background: South Sudan became an independent state on July 9 2011, after having endured two civil wars with Republic of the Sudan lasting 51 years. Over the 51 years approximately 300,000 South Sudanese were abducted and in held in captivity in the Republic of the Sudan. The South Sudanese abductees suffered abuse and deprivation. Presently it is estimated that 35,000 are still in captivity. Assessing the health status of returning South Sudanese citizens immediately after their return is imperative. The aim of this report is to examine the effect of captivity on heart rate, (HR), systolic blood pressure (SBP), diastolic blood pressure (DBP), and basic chemistry panel between men and women. Methods: In March of 2013, an American medical team performed health assessments for 48 hours in the state of Bahr el Gazal located in the northwest region of South Sudan. All returnees received health assessments within four days of their return. Health assessments defined as returnees’ demographics, along with their full history and physical examination. During physical exam height, weight, SBP, DBP, and HR, electrolytes and blood urea nitrogen (BUN) were recorded and analyzed. Results: Analysis was run on 186 participants, 50.5% (94) male, and 49.5% (92) female. Females were significantly younger at age of abduction, whereas men spent a significantly longer time in captivity (Table). SBP and DBP were significantly higher in males compared to females, even after adjusting for Age (p = 0.002, p = 0.036). HR was significantly less in males compared with females, even when adjusting for age (p < 0.001). BUN was significantly lower in females compared to males adjusting for age (p < 0.001) Conclusion: Although a majority of measurements in both men and women slaves returning to South Sudan fell within normal ranges, it is crucial to continue to monitor this group’s cardiovascular health because their deprivation while in captivity may have significantly impacted their health and risk for long term cardiovascular disease.

This article provides a reflective discussion of and narrative approach to incarcerated fathers based on the attendees of a Fatherhood Faith-Based Values Intervention programme at the Potchefstroom Remand Detention Facility. It is important to note that one-third of South African inmates are between the ages of 18 and 25 years – hence the reason why the majority of intervention and community engagement programmes at correctional services take place amongst the youth age group. The Department of Correctional Services reported in 2011 that South Africa had 159 265 incarcerated inmates at the time, of whom 110 905 were sentenced offenders and 48 360 were awaiting trial. In 2013, the World Incarcerated Brief reported that South Africa had the largest incarcerated population in Africa and the ninth largest in the world. Seventeen-year-olds comprised 53 000 of this number and were guilty of committing serious crimes. These numbers increased tremendously over the years. According to the former South African Minister of Correctional Services, Mr Sibusiso Ndebele, in 2013, 30% of inmates were awaiting trial, and most of them were young black men. He also indicated that, although 23 000 inmates were being released each year, 25 000 were introduced into the correctional services system. South Africa currently has overcrowded places of incarceration even though the president of South Africa, Mr Cyril Ramaphosa, granted special remission to 14 647 offenders in 2019. Incarcerated fathers are traumatised and affected by these places of captivity, even when they are on parole or released from detention. The effect of incarceration on fathers is a serious concern in South African society and challenge to the researcher who studies the fatherhood phenomenon and the dilemma of father absence.

Photo by Ricky Kharawala on Unsplash INTRODUCTION When people think of biomedical research, they often envision rats kept in cages with scientists in white coats and blue gloves checking on them, taking notes, and injecting them with substances. The images make some people uncomfortable, evoking a twinge of guilt as they think of the rats suffering. However, the idea that the sacrifice of a few mice saves thousands of human lives may outweigh their guilty conscience. Based on arguments for and against non-human primate (NHP) use in research, this paper concludes that NHP use is scientifically necessary but would be more ethically sound if novel policies and regulations were added to existing measures. l. Arguments that the Use of NHPs is Ethically Unjustified On one end of the spectrum, bioethicist Peter Singer argues that animals, including rats, should not be used in biomedical research at all.[1] He states that the use of animals is an indicator of speciesism.[2] Like racism, speciesism condemns exploiting a group, here, animals. Singer also challenges differentiating humans and animals based on sentience. He claims that if sentience, autonomy, and self-consciousness provided the basis to deprive animals of the same rights and privileges as humans, then humans who lack such traits would, theoretically, not be entitled to the rights and privileges that other humans have.[3] Lastly, Singer argues that using animals in experimentation forces researchers to acknowledge similarities between animals and humans.[4] If a human were to be largely stressed by an experiment, it may be safe to assume that animals, such as rats, would be as well. Beyond Singer, other authors suggest that it may be ethically impermissible to use NHPs as animal models in biomedical research. They emphasize NHPs’ phylogenetic similarities to humans and their need for more complex social, behavioral, and psychological care in a laboratory environment.[5] It is difficult to meet these needs, as researchers do not have the resources or the time to devote to consistently fulfilling them.[6] In addition, NHP use in the US compromises the integrity of the animal model itself. Most NHPs are imported from Asia, Africa, and South America as[7] there are relatively few captive breeding sites in the US.[8] These journeys are long and tedious, causing considerable stress on the animal.[9] Housing conditions, weaning, and quarantine practices further jeopardize animal welfare.[10] Climate change, new patterns in light-dark cycles, and different diets can alter the physical and social integrity of the NHP.[11] Some argue that NHPs should not be used in research due to their long lifespan. NHPs can be used for multiple experiments throughout their lifespan.[12] This can be physically and emotionally taxing on the animals, who would spend years in captivity.[13] Subjecting NHPs to multiple experiments inflicting varying levels of harm can be seen as a form of abuse. Forcing these highly social and complex animals to live in captivity their whole life, often in inadequate living environments that do not satisfy their complex needs, can result in immense suffering. As anti-vivisection and animal welfare organizations argue, the close phylogenetic similarity of NHPs to humans highlights that they suffer in similar ways to humans.[14] NHPs respond to pain, and they reflect upon pain as well.[15] Painful memories endure after experimentation, magnifying the suffering of the animal.[16] NHPs also exhibit a level of sentience comparable to humans. This challenges Cohen’s belief that animals have no rights since NHPs theoretically exercise and respond to moral claims to a certain degree.[17] NHPs demonstrate reflective self-awareness, a rudimentary theory of mind, linguistic abilities, and deep emotional attachments.[18] Given their cognitive complexity and sociality, some would argue that the benefits to the NHP should also be taken into account. NHP use in research rarely, if ever, benefits the NHP. For an animal that expresses a level of sentience, NFT use violates the research principles of autonomy and beneficence. ll. Arguments Favoring Ethical Use On the other end of the spectrum, bioethicist Carl Cohen argues that animals have no rights and research should freely use them.[19] Cohen claims that animals are incapable of exercising, or responding to, moral claims.[20] Thus, they cannot engage in free moral judgment. He notes that humans kill millions of animals daily for consumption, despite scientific advancements that have made animal consumption largely unnecessary. Thus, humans kill and consume animals purely for taste and pleasure in the modern day. Cohen questions why it would be ethically permissible to recreationally kill animals without benefit but impermissible to use animals to serve medical science and human advancement.[21] If the rats in cages were to be altered and a dog was in the place of the rat, more would object to Cohen’s utilitarian idea. As dogs are social beings that form bonds with humans, their suffering to save human lives evokes different emotional reactions and is ethically problematic. The closer the bond between an animal and humans, the more unethical their research use seems to be. The ethical implications of animal use reach a pinnacle when the previous example uses a monkey. NHPs are the closest phylogenetic relatives of humans.[22] NHPs exhibit high levels of intelligence, reflective self-awareness, self-recognition, linguistic abilities, and distinct personalities.[23] Similar to humans, NHPs create social mechanisms in which they transmit learned behaviors and customs.[24] NHPs have proven valuable in the advancement of science and medicine. Approximately 100,000 to 200,000 NHP’s are used annually for research worldwide.[25] The use of NHPs has been rising due to increasing research on monoclonal antibodies, in which NHP’s are the only animal that can be used for preclinical safety studies.[26] lll. The Middle of the Spectrum: Permissible Use This paper argues that using NHPs as animal models in biomedical research is ethically permissible. NHPs are very phylogenetically similar to humans, making them the ideal models to represent humans in biomedicine.[27] The Weatherall Report, published in 2006, argues that the use of NHPs in research is “not only morally accepted, but morally required.”[28] However, the Report specifies that this argument is credible only if there are no more effective ways of pursuing the research in question.[29] The report outlines a utilitarian approach to the need for NHPs in research.[30] The report claims that, while NHPs are harmed in research, the harm is necessary to prevent harm to humans.[31] While relatively few NHPs are used in research, the number of humans that benefit from the harm decreases the net harm under a utilitarian approach.[32] Given an NHP’s long lifespan and ability to learn social tasks,[33] an NHP may be used for one study in which it learns a specific skill, then used in subsequent studies that require demonstration of the skill,[34] resulting in the sacrifice of fewer animals for medical research. The similarity of NHPs to humans both socially and cognitively may increase better animal welfare practices in the laboratory and a net reduction in harm to animal models in general. For example, positive reinforcement rather than physical restraint can be used with NHPs, encouraging researchers to treat NHPs with more respect than other animals. Exposure to signs of suffering may lead researchers to adopt research practices that are more humane and minimize the harm to animals.[36] To be ethical, scientists must consider the importance of the research and the inability to use other animals. If the research can be performed another way, the use of NHPs would not be morally justified. Despite the ethical dilemmas, utilitarianism is the best approach to animal research. NHPs’ expressing a cognitive and emotional complexity does not outweigh the benefit to humans as animal models in research. As with the rules surrounding human research subjects, research using NHPs requires protection of the research subjects and requires attention to the scientific benefits. Current policies guided by Russell and Burch’s “3 R’s Principle” reduce the harm to NHPs.[37] The Principle states that in research, there should be a “replacement of animals with non-animal methods;” “reduction of the number of animals used to obtain information of a given amount and precision;” and “refinement of scientific procedures and husbandry to minimize suffering and improve animal welfare.”[38] A stringent set of rules and regulations govern NHP use.[39] The 2000 Chimpanzee Health Improvement, Maintenance, and Protection Act legally prohibits the euthanasia of chimpanzees used in biomedical research.[40] The Act mandates the creation of sanctuaries where chimpanzees can be retired and cared for until their death.[41] Institutional Animal Care and Use Committees (IACUCS) regulate the use of NHPs and serve as ethical regulatory committees similar to Institutional Review Boards (IRB) overseeing human subjects research.[42] IACUCs prohibit academic or commercial research on NHPs unless researchers are appropriately trained, procedures for independent oversight are established, use of the specific species is justified, and the data’s significance is established.[43] The United Kingdom American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (ASPCA) has stated that NFT use can occur only if other species are unsuitable for reaching scientific gains.[44] [45] lV. Recommendations While the above policies build a strong foundation to ensure that the research setting ethically respects NPHs, more can be done. Limiting continuous research on one NFT and limiting the number of studies an NHP can participate in would protect the NFT and could consider the level of harm an NHP is exposed to per study. To meet the complex needs of NFTs, animal research labs should be created for NHP use only and should include comprehensive care and specialized captivity practices. [46] A ranking system for labs could help distinguish which labs have enough protective measures and a complex environment to be entitled to engage in NHP research. Similar to biosafety levels (BSL) from one to four for research labs, with each level requiring unique sets of protective measures, animal research labs should be created for NHP use that requires the implementation of specific captivity practices. CONCLUSION NHPs have contributed greatly to the scientific community and the advancement of modern medicine. As emotionally and cognitively sophisticated beings, they need special protections in research contexts. As utilitarianism calls for their continued use to save human lives, improving their care in captivity is important to ethical research practices. Policies similar to those regulating human subjects in research should be implemented to protect them. This paper, therefore, sought to offer novel solutions, such as creating a ranking system for animal research laboratories and limiting the number of studies in which an animal can be used. - [1] Singer, Peter. “Equality for Animals?” In Practical ethics. Cambridge University Press, 2011. [2] Singer, “Equality for Animals?” [3] Singer, “Equality for Animals?” [4] Singer, “Equality for Animals?” [5] Prescott, Mark J. "Ethics of primate use." Advances in Science and Research 5, no. 1 (2010): 11-22. https://doi.org/10.5194/asr-5-11-2010 [6] Tardif, Suzette D., Kristine Coleman, Theodore R. Hobbs, and Corrine Lutz. "IACUC review of nonhuman primate research." ILAR journal 54, no. 2 (2013): 234-245. https://doi.org/10.1093/ilar/ilt040 [7] Prescott, Mark J. "Ethics of primate use." Advances in Science and Research 5, no. 1 (2010): 11-22. https://doi.org/10.5194/asr-5-11-2010 [8] Prescott, “Ethics of primate use.” 11-22 [9] Prescott, “Ethics of primate use.” 11-22 [10] Prescott, “Ethics of primate use.” 11-22 [11] Carlsson, Hans‐Erik, Steven J. Schapiro, Idle Farah, and Jann Hau. "Use of Primates In Research: A Global Overview." American Journal of Primatology: Official Journal of the American Society of Primatologists 63, no. 4 (2004): 225-237. https://doi.org/10.1002/ajp.20054 [12] Prescott, “Ethics of primate use.” 11-22 [13] Prescott, “Ethics of primate use.” 11-22 [14] Prescott, “Ethics of primate use.” 11-22 [15] Prescott, “Ethics of primate use.” 11-22 [16] Prescott, “Ethics of primate use.” 11-22 [17] Cohen, Carl. "The case for the use of animals in biomedical research." (1986). https://www.wellbeingintlstudiesrepository.org/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1001&context=moreaexp [18] Prescott, Mark J. "Ethics of primate use." Advances in science and research 5, no. 1 (2010): 11-22. https://doi.org/10.5194/asr-5-11-2010 [19] Cohen, Carl. "The case for the use of animals in biomedical research." (1986). https://www.wellbeingintlstudiesrepository.org/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1001&context=moreaexp [20] Cohen, “The case for the use of animals in biomedical research.” [21] Cohen, “The case for the use of animals in biomedical research.” [22] Tardif, Suzette D., Kristine Coleman, Theodore R. Hobbs, and Corrine Lutz. "IACUC review of nonhuman primate research." ILAR journal 54, no. 2 (2013): 234-245. https://doi.org/10.1093/ilar/ilt040 [23] Prescott, Mark J. "Ethics of primate use." Advances in science and research 5, no. 1 (2010): 11-22. https://doi.org/10.5194/asr-5-11-2010 [24] Prescott, “Ethics of primate use.” 11-22 [27] Tardif, Suzette D., Kristine Coleman, Theodore R. Hobbs, and Corrine Lutz. "IACUC review of nonhuman primate research." ILAR journal 54, no. 2 (2013): 234-245. https://doi.org/10.1093/ilar/ilt040 [28] Gardar, “The ethical justification for the use of non-human primates in research.” 328-331 [29] Gardar, “The ethical justification for the use of non-human primates in research.” 328-331 [30] Gardar, “The ethical justification for the use of non-human primates in research.” 328-331 [31] Gardar, “The ethical justification for the use of non-human primates in research.” 328-331 [32] Gardar, “The ethical justification for the use of non-human primates in research.” 328-331 [33] Tardif, Suzette D., Kristine Coleman, Theodore R. Hobbs, and Corrine Lutz. "IACUC review of nonhuman primate research." ILAR journal 54, no. 2 (2013): 234-245. https://doi.org/10.1093/ilar/ilt040 [34] Tardif et al., “IACUC review of nonhuman primate research.” 234-235 [35] Olsson, I. Anna S., and Peter Sandøe. "“What’s wrong with my monkey?” Ethical perspectives on germline transgenesis in marmosets." Transgenic research 19, no. 2 (2010): 181-186. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11248-009-9316-6 [36] Olsson et al., “What’s wrong with my monkey?” [37] Prescott, “Ethics of primate use.” 11-22 [38] Prescott, “Ethics of primate use.” 11-22 [39] Phillips, Kimberley A., Karen L. Bales, John P. Capitanio, Alan Conley, Paul W. Czoty, Bert A. ‘t Hart, William D. Hopkins et al. "Why primate models matter." American journal of primatology76, no. 9 (2014): 801-827. https://doi.org/10.1002/ajp.22281 [40] Carlsson, Hans‐Erik, Steven J. Schapiro, Idle Farah, and Jann Hau. "Use of primates in research: a global overview." American Journal of Primatology: Official Journal of the American Society of Primatologists 63, no. 4 (2004): 225-237. https://doi.org/10.1002/ajp.20054 [41] Prescott, Mark J. "Ethics of primate use." Advances in Science and Research 5, no. 1 (2010): 11-22. https://doi.org/10.5194/asr-5-11-2010 [42] Tardif, Suzette D., Kristine Coleman, Theodore R. Hobbs, and Corrine Lutz. "IACUC Review of Nonhuman Primate Research." ILAR Journal 54, no. 2 (2013): 234-245. https://doi.org/10.1093/ilar/ilt040 [43] Phillips, Kimberley A., Karen L. Bales, John P. Capitanio, Alan Conley, Paul W. Czoty, Bert A. ‘t Hart, William D. Hopkins et al. "Why primate models matter." American journal of primatology76, no. 9 (2014): 801-827. https://doi.org/10.1002/ajp.22281 [44] Prescott, Mark J. "Ethics of primate use." Advances in Science and Research 5, no. 1 (2010): 11-22. https://doi.org/10.5194/asr-5-11-2010 [45] Article 7 of Directive 86/609/EEC in the European Commission on the Protection of Animals Used for Experimental and Other Scientific Purposes states that “in a choice between experiments, those which use the minimum number of animals, involve animals with the lowest degree of neurophysiological sensitivity, cause the least pain, suffering, distress, or lasting harm, and which are most likely to provide satisfactory results, shall be selected.” [46] Tardif, Suzette D., Kristine Coleman, Theodore R. Hobbs, and Corrine Lutz. "IACUC review of nonhuman primate research." ILAR journal 54, no. 2 (2013): 234-245. https://doi.org/10.1093/ilar/ilt040

Introduction This paper highlights the efforts of cultural intermediaries operating social networks for pets, known as petworking. Petworking aligns with the ever-increasing use of social media platforms where “one in ten pet owners have a social media account especially for their pet” (Schroeder). Petworking represents the increased affect of connectivity between pets and their owners within the broader pet community. Although it is true that “no one knows you are a dog on the Internet” (Steiner), it is fair to say that petworking is not the work of the animals directly, but the cultural intermediaries who construct the environment for pets to interact with others. Boo the Pomeranian is one example of a highly networked, cute and celebrity pet, whose antics are broadcast across a plethora of online networks including Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. However, to contradict the rhetoric that cats rule the Internet, it is instead the strategic efforts of cultural intermediaries that take the banal activities of Boo and his “petworked individualism” to his global fan base. The research within this paper, through the lens of animal celebrity, extends recent work undertaken in the celebrity studies field that seeks to understand the connection between celebrities and ‘ordinary folk’, or rather ordinary folk as celebrities. In that regard, the connection between ordinary and celebrity animals is explored through the work of the cultural intermediary who capitalises on the authenticity and cute characteristics of animals. This paper also seeks to understand the role of the petworking cultural intermediary by exploring the cyclic process of disintermediation/remediation/intermediation of Internet communication. Celebrity Studies, Cute Culture and Petworking It is appropriate to first outline the connection of cute with celebrity, and how they relate to petworking. In the first instance, the notion of celebrity is primarily a phenomenon associated with humans. Historically, one of the earliest studies on celebrity focused on the “the person who is known for his well-knownness” (Boorstin 57). Further, celebrity has been noted as a construct by the media industries that has developed “entertainment figures as transmitted via the 20th century mass media” (Feeley 468). Celebrity has a history with the 19th and 20th century literature on the Hollywood star system and its transmission of fame to the mass audiences. As media and cultural studies adopted celebrity as a focus, celebrity studies became fascinated with “how the star image was produced and consumed and how it both shaped and reflected social and cultural identity” (Feeley 470). A more contemporary study into the exploration of celebrity is, as Turner suggests, a demotic turn that sees the media create ‘celebrities’ from ordinary folk. Dyer has argued that one of the core characteristics of celebrity is the ability for one to identify and imitate the star. In each of these examples of celebrity studies, it is assumed that the celebrity is indeed a human being. The humanistic value of celebrity then is problematic when considering how it relates to animals, specifically one’s pet. One way of approaching the study of celebrity and pets is through the lens of animal celebrity. There have been numerous cases of famous animals, with one of the earliest records in Hanno, a famous elephant who was a gift for Pope Leo X on his coronation from King Manuel I of Portugal, 1514. More recent animal celebrity has been demonstrated in cases of Paul the octopus whose celebrity status was reached through his ability to predict the winning teams during the 2010 World Cup, or Dolly the sheep who is infamous as being not only the first cloned sheep but also the first cloned being. Other famous pets are struck by celebrity status for non-favourable acts, for example Tilikum, or Tilly as he is known. TIlly is a bull orca that has been responsible for the deaths of three people during his time in captivity. His story, which also represents his association with celebrity, is documented in the 2013 documentary, Blackfish. Each of these cases of famous animals demonstrates that animal celebrity is not a new issue, but highlights the significance between ‘ordinary’ animals and ‘celebrity’ animals. It could be argued it is the impact of the mass media’s depiction of these animals that defines them as celebrity animals beyond their ordinary counterparts. Yet, in attempting to understand the appeal of animal celebrity, Blewitt notes that pets “wear the badge of authenticity that is held to be so important for credible image-management; there is never any question as to whether or not they are ‘being themselves’” (117). The appeal of animal celebrity for humans is represented through the animal’s authenticity because they are incapable of misrepresenting facts. Often the authentic animal characteristic is combined with ‘cute’ characteristics to increase their appeal, or their relational value with humans, and thereby their popularity. This is certainly the case with giant pandas where they “have the credibility of being an endangered species, look cuddly, have big moony eyes and so have automatic non-human conservation charisma” (Blewitt 326). In this scenario, the giant panda represents the popular qualities of animal cuteness which increases their relational value with humans. McVeigh suggests cute is a symbol of daily aesthetic equaling a “standard attribute” (230) to facilitate high reading of cultural texts and goods. Kinsella argues that cute builds on cutie, which “takes cuteness as its starting point, but on top of the basic ingredient of childlikeness, Cutie style is also chic, eccentric, androgynous and humorous” (Fetishism 229). Cute can shift from pop culture signifiers, to high cultural symbols that represent young, amusing and helpless representations. When cute is in dialogue with celebrity, specifically animal celebrity, it is the cute appeal, or the “silent desperation of the lost puppy dog” (Harris 179) that propels humans to increasingly construct and consume celebrity through animals. Distributing the appeal of cute animal celebrities across digital communication technologies provides the opportunity to explore and understand the petworking phenomenon. The authentic representation of cute animals outlined above has demonstrated the increased relational value of animal celebrity in a non-networked environment. However, when contextualised in a digitally connected environment that engages the affordances of social media platforms, the exploration of petworking can answer some animal celebrity questions raised by Giles. In his taxonomy of animal celebrity, Giles defines four categories that distinguish famous pets: “(a) public figures; (b) the meritocratically famous; (c) show business ‘stars’; and (d) the accidentally famous” (118). He suggests the first two categories are exemplified by the pets of politicians, or the biggest or smallest of a species. However he notes “it is impossible to distinguish between the remaining categories since ‘accidental fame’ presupposes that the other famous animals have engineered their own celebrity to some extent” (ibid.). This is precisely the space that petworking occupies. Pets do not engineer their own celebrity; rather, it is the strategic and coordinated efforts of their owners that create “accidentally famous” animals. The example of petworking demonstrates the role of the intermediary who constructs the identity of the non-ordinary pet with high relational value. A pet with high relational value does not occur serendipitously nor is it the work of a famous animal engineering his or her own celebrity. Rather, it is the work of human intermediaries who strategically utilise authenticity and cute as animal characteristics that increase the animal’s appeal, and thereby its popularity. To successfully engage in petworking, intermediaries use social media platforms to disseminate or broadcast the celebrity animal’s characteristics. The following case study of Boo the Pomeranian demonstrates the connection of celebrity studies with cute culture that is disseminated through social media platforms – a petworking example. The Case of BooThe conceptual framework for this research draws from the media’s coverage of petworking. In that environment, petworking is referenced wherever journalists refer to the practice of “cute” animals engaging in social networking activities. Warr suggests petworking represents “people who want to set up personal social profiles on behalf of their pets”. Ortiz suggests petworking aims to “employ a network marketing strategy for social, political or commercial gain using animals, pets, and goods and services related to animals and pets”. Interestingly, much of the discussion of petworking relates to the act of networking through pets to break the ice with other pet owners to engage in more complex interactions. To move the existing work beyond pets to break the ice, Williams notes that “one in 10 of all UK pets have their own Facebook page, Twitter account or YouTube channel” and “14 per cent of dog owners maintain a Facebook page for their pet, whereas 6 per cent boast Twitter accounts”. Regardless of the motivation of pet owners to engage in petworking, there is an increasing presence of pets in an online environment. Boo the Pomeranian, rose to fame as the world’s cutest dog during 2009. His Facebook page has 10,435,458 likes at the time of writing, making him the most popular dog on Facebook and aligning him with the Public Figure page category, a key celebrity indicator. His tagline reads, “My name is Boo. I am a dog. Life is good.” His connection to popularity came on 26 October 2010, when celebrity blogger Khloé Kardashian wrote “OMG, I just found this dog named Boo on facebook and I am seriously in LOVE […] If you are in facebook, go like this page because it’s beyond cute!” Boo’s popularity gained momentum across the Internet and since then he has featured on television shows, has produced a line of plush toys and has a book for sale on Amazon, “Boo: The life of the World’s Cutest Dog”. This example of Kardashian’s public call to action is a clear celebrity endorsement which trades on both cute and celebrity. Boo’s rise to fame also aligns with Giles’ fourth category of animal celebrity, accidentally famous. If it were not for Khloé Kardashian’s celebrity endorsement, the distinction between Boo as an ordinary pet and a celebrity pet would be very clear. Boo’s rise to a celebrity status is a clear example of how a human intermediary can create and develop a high relational value of a pet through the endorsement of cute. The connection between cute and popularity also suggests cute creates strong Internet connections between individuals with a compulsion to belong to the larger fan group. Although Boo’s owner remains anonymous under the moniker of J.H. Lee, it would appear the motivation behind Boo, although started as a joke Facebook page (Lee), is to commodify the pet. The popularity of Boo’s cuteness has bolstered the dog as a cultural product with production of countless novelty items, indicative of the creative vernacular of the pet’s owner. In this example, the soft power that accompanies Boo is persuasive and invisible. Soft power in this context is a “concept of strategic narrative […] especially in regard to how influence works in a new media environment” (Roselle et al. 70). In the context of globalisation, Boo is the ideal transnational cultural icon that embodies an ideology, disseminated through the instrument of cute. When cute is used as an ideological construct, it is rarely the object that generates soft power but rather the intermediary constructing the cultural artefact. The following section explores the cultural intermediary as the individual responsible for the mediation of ideology through cultural production and consumption. The cultural intermediary determines how cute shapes and redefines social and cultural identity. Petworking as Cultural Intermediation Much of the existing literature on cute culture has focussed on the impact of cute upon culture, negating the process of their cultural construction. Their construction is, like other creative discourses, the result of mediation by multiple roles between the production and consumption of cultural artefacts. The cultural intermediary plays a crucial role in aligning the construction of meaning that aligns the perspectives of both cultural artefact producers and consumers. For example, cute is constructed by designers and stylists, whereas celebrity is the work of the public relations agent. Cultural intermediation was first used by Pierre Bourdieu as a way of describing the individual who mediates between and connects different cultural fields. Negus reappropriated the idea by contextualising the cultural intermediary within the creative industries as a means of bridging the gap between cultural production and consumption. Negus focuses on roles such as accountants, A&R agents and senior executives within the creative industries, and concluded that instead of bridging the gap, these roles increase the distance between production and consumption. Disintermediation – a process that involves a direct connection between producer and consumer, or artist and audience – would be more appropriate. I have previously argued for a combined producer/consumer production model (Hutchinson) that is facilitated by cultural intermediation within the context of media institutions. The cultural intermediary plays a crucial role in aligning the perspective of the contributing authors with the regulatory frameworks of the hosting institutions. Cultural intermediaries may be community managers, program producers, legal teams, or archivists that interface between the contributors and the institutional regulatory framework. For example, an artist might contribute work to a participatory project with little understanding of the regulatory constraints of the project. It is the role of the cultural intermediary to ensure the work maintains its creative and thematic aspiration while aligning with the governing rules of the institution. To turn cultural intermediation to the practice of petworking, there are two distinct stakeholders: the pets and pet fans. Within petworking, the cultural intermediary is responsible for understanding the interests of pet fans and an understanding of how to represent pets to align with those interests: a process Blewitt described as increasing high relational value. As described earlier, cute is a powerful instrument to promote the popularity of pets and increase their prominence across online spaces. It is therefore not the cuteness of the pets that determine their popularity and virality, but rather the strategic efforts of the cultural intermediary who engages in cute as a useful communication tool. Boo is a clear example of how cultural intermediaries engage in cute as an apparatus to increase the high relational value of animals for their human counterparts. It is not necessarily the animal themselves as they are not, as Giles suggests, within the first two categories of public figures or the meritocratically famous. They are ordinary pets that have been aligned with the authentic and cute characteristics of animal celebrity by their cultural intermediaries which increases their relational value, thereby creating celebrity pets. In this example, Boo the Pomeranian demonstrates how a cultural icon has been created, or mediated, by his owner, the cultural intermediary, by embracing authentic and cute characteristics and distributing the cultural artefact across social media platforms. In these instances, the agency of the cultural intermediary becomes increasingly important. Conclusion If constructed correctly, cute can be used as a powerful instrument to create a cultural artefact. This paper has highlighted the similarities between animal celebrity and cute culture through authenticity and popularity, or “knownness”, of animals. The cute/celebrity framework aligns with petworking to highlight how cute pets are created, mediated and distributed across social media platforms. In this context, it is the role of the cultural intermediary to mediate these celebrity animals by identifying the stakeholder groups associated with petworking, understanding their interests and producing cultural artefacts that address those interests. In the case study of Boo the Pomeranian, it has been demonstrated that the authenticity and cute characteristics are directly connected to popularity. In this situation, the role of the cultural intermediary is to promote those characteristics for the stakeholder groups interested in the cultural artefact, to increase its popularity. The role of the cultural intermediary also demonstrates the significance of intermediation within the production and distribution of cultural goods. Acknowledgements Andrew Whelan, Grace O’Neil, Mikaela Griffith, Elizabeth Arnold, Greta Mayr. References Blewitt, John. “What’s New Pussycat? A Genealogy of Animal Celebrity.” Celebrity Studies 4.3 (2013): 325-338. Boorstin, D.J. The Image: A Guide to Pseudo-Events in America. New York: Harper and Row, 1962. Bourdieu, Pierre. A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste. 1st ed. London: Routledge, 1984. Dyer, Richard. Stars. London: British Film Institute, 1979. Feeley, Kathleen. "Gossip as News: On Modern U.S. Celebrity Culture and Journalism." History Compass 10.6 (2012): 467-82. Giles, David. “Animal Celebrities.” Celebrity Studies 4.2 (2013): 115-128. Harris, Daniel. “Cuteness.” Salmagundi 96 (1992): 177-186. Hutchinson, Jonathon. “Communication Models of Institutional Online Communities: The Role of the ABC Cultural Intermediary.” Platform: Journal of Media and Communication 5.1 (2013). 29 Apr. 2014 ‹http://journals.culture-communication.unimelb.edu.au/platform/v5i1_hutchinson.html›. Kardashian, Khloé. "Introducing the Cutest Dog on the Planet… Boo!!!!!!". Khloé Kardashian Blog, 2010. 29 Apr. 2014 ‹http://khloekardashian.celebuzz.com/introducing_the_cutest_dog_on_the_planetboo-10-2010›. Kinsella, Sharon. "What's behind the Fetishism of Japanese School Uniforms?" Fashion Theory 6.2 (2000): 215-38. McVeigh, Brian J. “How Hello Kitty Commodifies the Cute, Cool and Camp: ‘Consumutopia’ versus ‘Control’ in Japan.” Journal of Material Culture 5.2 (2000): 225-245. Negus, Keith. "The Work of Cultural Intermediaries and the Enduring Distance between Production and Consumption." Cultural Studies 16.4 (2002): 501-15. Ortiz, Robert. "Petworking — Defined by Robert Ortiz." The GOD BOLT, 23 Jan. 2009. ‹http://thegodbolt.blogspot.com.au/2009/01/petworking-defined-by-robert-ortiz.html›. Roselle, Laura, Alister Miskimmon, and Ben O’Loughlin. “Strategic Narrative: A New Means to Understanding Soft Power.” Media, War & Conflict 7.1 (2014): 70-84. Schroeder, Stan. “1 in 10 Pets Have a Social Networking Profile.” Mashable 13 July 2011. 29 Apr. 2014 ‹http://mashable.com/2011/07/13/pets-social-networking›. Steiner, Peter. “On the Internet, Nobody Knows You're a Dog.” Cartoon. The New Yorker, 5 July 1993. Turner, Graeme. “Surrendering the Space.” Cultural Studies 25.4-5 (2011): 685-99. Warr, Philippa. “My Social Petwork: Facebook for Your Pets.” Wired.co.uk 12 Apr. 2013. 29 Apr. 2014 ‹http://www.wired.co.uk/news/archive/2013-04/12/my-social-petwork›. Williams, Rhiannon. “Dogs Dominate Social 'Petworking'.” The Telegraph 15 Feb. 2014.

Introduction In a 1984 New York Times interview, Germaine Greer discussed the quite different views that have surrounded her supposed attitude towards sex. As she put it, “People seem to think I'm Hugh Hefner and that the reason women started having sex is because I told them to” (qtd. in De Lacy). This view had, however, shifted by the 1980s. As she told reporter Justine De Lacy, “Now they are saying that I'm against sex.” In this article, I tease out Greer’s remarks about the supposed transformation of her political persona. I do so with reference to her work on Suck Magazine, which was billed by its editors as “The First European Sex Paper,” and which was first published in 1969 (cited in Gleeson 86). The article has two key aims. The first is to demonstrate that Greer has not (as it might seem) transformed from a sexual revolutionary to an anti-sex ideologue. This view is too simplistic. The article’s second aim is to explore Greer’s significant but under-acknowledged contribution to feminist debates about pornography. Far from being strictly anti- or pro-porn, Greer’s work on Suck actually aligns with both of these positions, and it appeared before the feminist porn debates really gained traction. Germaine Greer as Sexual Revolutionary and/or Anti-Sex Ideologue? The apparent political transformation that Greer mentioned in 1984 has been particularly apparent since the 1990s. Since that decade, she has criticised pornography on several occasions. For example, in her book The Whole Woman (1999), Greer argued, “Pornography is the flight from woman, men’s denial of sex as a medium of communication . . .” (181). In an article published in The Guardian in 2000, Greer wrote, “Can [pornography] go too far? No, it can't. As far as male sexual fantasy is concerned there is no too far.” In a 2012 episode of the Australian current affairs program Q&A, Greer argued, “Pornography is the advertisement of prostitution.”Greer’s stance on pornography, and particularly her invocation of female sexual subordination, might seem to represent a radical shift from the political persona that she cultivated during the 1960s and 1970s. During that earlier period, Greer was arguing for female sexual empowerment. She posed nude for Suck. In 1971, the US magazine Life described Greer as a “saucy feminist that even men like” (qtd. in Wallace, unpaginated photograph). There is nothing “saucy” about her more recent anti-porn posture; this posture is not concerned with “empowerment” in any obvious way. Yet I would suggest that Greer at least anticipated this posture in her work on Suck. In that magazine, she did not frame sex as being entirely emancipatory. Rather, Greer argued for sexual liberation (particularly for women), but (in doing so) she also invoked the hierarchical gender roles that would later be invoked in anti-porn feminist arguments. Examining some of Greer’s contributions to Suck will make clear the important contribution that she has made to feminist debates about pornography. These are debates which she has not generally been associated with, or at least not to the extent that Andrea Dworkin and Catharine A. MacKinnon (both US feminists who have very publicly remonstrated against porn) have (see Dworkin; MacKinnon and Dworkin). The feminist porn debates gained ascendance during the late 1970s and early 1980s, and seem to have been liveliest in North America (see Bronstein; Duggan and Hunter; MacKinnon and Dworkin). These debates are significant because of what they say about the truly complex and contentious relationship between sex, gender, power, and representation. The feminist porn debates have been broad-ranging (Sullivan and McKee 10), though they tend to have been framed as polarised conflicts between anti-pornography feminists and “sex-positive”/“anti-censorship” feminists. For anti-pornography feminists, pornography always symptomatises and perpetuates gender hierarchy. Andrea Dworkin famously defined “pornography” as the graphic, sexually explicit subordination of women in pictures and/or words that also includes women presented dehumanized as sexual objects, things, or commodities; or women presented as sexual objects who enjoy pain or humiliation; or women presented as sexual objects who experience sexual pleasure in being raped; or women presented as sexual objects tied up or cut up or mutilated or bruised or physically hurt; or women presented in postures or positions of sexual submission, servility, or display; or women’s body parts—including but not limited to vaginas, breasts, buttocks—exhibited such that women are reduced to those parts; or women presented as whores by nature . . . (xxxiii) Conversely, sex-positive/anti-censorship feminists tend to assess pornography “on a case by case basis”; porn can range from woman-hating to politically progressive (McKee, Albury, and Lumby 22). For these feminists, attempts to legislate against pornography (for example, via the anti-porn ordinance drawn up in the US during the 1980s by Dworkin and MacKinnon) amount to censorship, and are not in the interest of women, feminism, or sexual liberation (Duggan and Hunter 29–39; and see also MacKinnon and Dworkin). Among the most striking aspects of Greer’s work on Suck is that it actually mobilises aspects of both these (loosely-defined) feminist positions, and appeared almost a decade before pornography became an issue of contention amongst feminists. This work was published not in North America, but in Europe; the Australian-born Greer was living in the United Kingdom at the time of that magazine’s publication, and indeed she has been described as “Britain’s . . . most well-known feminist” (Taylor 759; and see also Gleeson). Does Porn Suck? Greer co-founded Suck in 1969, the year before The Female Eunuch was published. Greer had already established a minor public profile through her journalistic contributions to the London-based Oz Magazine. Several of those contributions were written under the guise of “Dr G—the only groupie with a Ph.D in captivity,” and featured references to “groupiedom” and “cunt power” (qtd. in Gleeson 86). Suck was published in Amsterdam to circumvent “British censorship laws” (Wallace 15). The magazine was very much a product of the then-current sexual revolution, as suggested by the following passage from a 1971 editorial: “Our cause is sexual liberation. Our tactic is the defiance of censorship” (University of Melbourne Archives). Suck comprised sexually-explicit imagery (for example, nudity and shots of (hetero)sexual penetration) and similarly explicit articles. These articles are furnished with the vivid, deliberately provocative prose for which Greer is renowned.In some articles, Greer argues that women’s acceptance of their bodies constitutes a rebellion against patriarchy. In a 1971 article, she writes, “Primitive man feared the vagina . . . as the most magical of magical orifices of the body” (University of Melbourne Archives). The title of this piece is “Lady Love Your Cunt,” and indicates Greer’s view that patriarchal fears—or, as she puts it, the fears of “primitive man”—have contributed to stigma that has surrounded the vagina. Greer concludes thus: “Why not send a photograph of your own cunt, with your names labelled on?” (Whether any readers responded to this invitation remains unclear.) In “Bounce Titty Bounce,” she describes a “Mafia that controls the shapes of [women’s] bodies” (University of Melbourne Archives). This control is particularly evident in the brassiere, which Greer calls “a muzzle, a mask, binding joys and desires with wire and rubber and nylon and clips and cotton.” In a 1970 article entitled “Ladies get on top for better orgasms,” Greer opens with the statement: “The prevalence of the missionary position of fucking in the Western World [sic] seems to mean a widespread unfairness in sex.” She elaborates: Even if women were not . . . slighter than men, the missionary position would have little to commend it. The hands of the man are not free to play with his lover’s breasts or clitoris . . . because he must support himself, at least partially by them . . . The male ismin [sic] full control. Greer concedes that the “female on top position is perhaps the least popular of the alternatives to the missionary position.” The “female on top” position does, however, have advantages for women, one being that a woman “can arrive at a position to accept the cock without having to take her weight on her hands.” Greer’s best-known contribution to Suck is a selection of nude photographs that were published in a 1971 edition. In one shot, Greer is lying on her back, her legs behind her ears, her anus directly in front of the camera. In another shot, she is positioned in the same manner, although her anus and vagina are more central within the frame. In both shots, Greer is gazing directly into the camera and smiling. On one level, the textual and photographic examples described above—and, in fact, the very publication of Suck—suggest a rebellion against sexual repression. This rebellion was characteristic of the sexual revolution (Gleeson 86). Yet, in advocating female sexual empowerment, Greer distanced herself from the masculine bias of that movement. In her 1984 New York Times interview, Greer was quoted as saying that “. . . the sexual revolution never happened. Permissiveness happened, and that’s no better than repressiveness, because women are still being manipulated by men” (qtd. in De Lacy). Here, she anticipates arguments (e.g. Jeffreys) that the sexual revolution of the 1960s and 1970s actually sanctioned (heterosexual) male desire and men’s sexual access to women. In Suck, then, Greer argued that women need to liberate themselves sexually, and not only be seen as instruments for male sexual liberation. Greer did pose nude, but, in doing so, she stared back into the camera/at the spectator—thus returning the gaze, rather than being objectified by this gaze (Mulvey). Greer has described her shots thus: “Face, pubes and anus, nothing decorative about it. Nothing sexy about it either. Confrontation was the name of the game” (qtd. in Gleeson 86). In 2013, Greer wrote of that photo shoot: “Women’s bodies were merchandised. Each week we saw a little more: nipples, then pussy . . . drip-feeding the masturbation fantasies of a [male] generation. My gesture aimed to short-circuit that process.” She has also been quoted as saying that she envisioned Suck as an “antidote to the exploitative papers like Screw and Hustler,” by “developing a new kind of erotic art, away from the tits ‘n’ ass and the peep show syndrome” (qtd. in Gleeson 86). Thus, Greer’s Suck contributions seem to foreshadow the “sex-positive” feminism that would emerge later in the 1970s in North America (e.g. Duggan and Hunter). Her work would also anticipate feminist uses of porn to explore female sexuality from specifically female and feminist perspectives (see Taormino et al.). A closer examination of these contributions, however, suggests a more complex picture. Witness Greer’s reference to the popularity of “missionary sex” as a reason for “widespread unfairness in sex,” or her description of a (presumably) male-dominated “Mafia” who control women’s bodies (for example, via the bra). In a newspaper interview that was published around the time of The Female Eunuch’s 1970 publication, Greer argued that sex needs to be “rescued” from the patriarchy by feminists. This is because sex under patriarchy has been characterised by the dichotomised positions of “powerful and powerless, masterful and mastered.” In this scenario, women are the ones who are “powerless” and “mastered.” The title of that interview is “Author Attacks Dominating Male” (University of Melbourne Archives).The above statements suggest a sexual landscape characterised by “potentially violent, dominant men and subordinated, silenced women” (Duggan and Hunter 7). In this landscape, sex is a site of gender inequality; and even something as apparently innocuous as underwear is used by men to control women. The pervasive sense of patriarchy invoked here would (as scholars such as Duggan and Hunter have argued) be invoked in much anti-pornography feminist writing. And Greer would go on to concur with the anti-porn stance, as the three pronouncements cited at the beginning of this article attest. (In Suck, Greer does not attempt to define “pornography,” and nor does she classify her contributions as being “pornography” or “anti-pornography.”)ConclusionI have argued that it is useful to revisit some of Germaine Greer’s contributions to Suck Magazine in order to reassess her apparent transformation from sexual revolutionary to anti-sex ideologue. These contributions (which include articles and photographs) are celebrations of female sexual empowerment and critiques of what Greer sees as a pervasive gender hierarchy. I have argued that this work is also useful in that it anticipates the feminist debates about pornography that would gain ascendance in North America almost a decade after Suck’s publication. Greer articulates arguments that would come to be aligned with both “sex-positive” and “anti-pornography” feminist discourses. To this extent, she has made an important and thus far largely unacknowledged contribution to these highly polarised feminist debates. ReferencesBronstein, Carolyn. Battling Pornography: The American Feminist Anti-Pornography Movement, 1976–1986. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2011.De Lacy, Justine. “Germaine Greer’s New Book Stirs a Debate.” The New York Times. 5 Mar. 1984. 21 Oct. 2015 <https://www.nytimes.com/books/99/05/09/specials/greer-debate.html>.Duggan, Lisa, and Nan D. Hunter, eds. “Introduction.” Sex Wars: Sexual Dissent and Political Culture. 10th Anniversary Edition. London: Routledge, 2006. 1–13.Dworkin, Andrea. Pornography: Men Possessing Women. New York: Plume, 1989. Gleeson, Kate. “From Suck Magazine to Corporate Paedophilia: Feminism and Pornograph—Remembering the Australian Way.” Women’s Studies International Forum 38 (2013): 83–96.Greer, Germaine. The Whole Woman. London: Transworld Publishers, 1999. ———. “Gluttons for Porn.” The Guardian 24 Sep. 2000. 21 Oct. 2015 <http://www.theguardian.com/books/2000/sep/24/society>.———. “As Women Bare All in Feminist Protest, Germaine Greer Asks: Is This Feminism?” News.com.au 17 Mar. 2013. 30 July 2016 <http://www.news.com.au/lifestyle/as-women-bare-all-in-feminist-protest-germaine-greer-asks-is-this-feminism/story-fneszs56-1226598414628>.Jeffreys, Sheila. Anticlimax: A Feminist Perspective on the Sexual Revolution. London: The Women’s Press, 1990. MacKinnon, Catharine A., and Andrea Dworkin, eds. In Harm’s Way: The Pornography Civil Rights Hearings. Massachusetts: Harvard UP, 1997. McKee, Alan, Katherine Albury, and Catharine Lumby. The Porn Report. Melbourne: Melbourne UP, 2008. Mulvey, Laura. “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema.” Screen 16.3 (1975): 6–18. Q&A. “Politics and Porn in a Post-Feminist World.” First screened 19 Mar. 2012. 20 May 2016 <http://www.abc.net.au/tv/qanda/txt/s3451584.htm>.Suck Magazine. Copies held by Germaine Greer Archive, University of Melbourne. Sullivan, Rebecca, and Alan McKee. Pornography: Structures, Agency and Performance. Cambridge: Polity Press, 2015.Taormino, Tristan, Celine Parrenas Shimizu, Constance Penley, and Mireille Miller-Young, eds. The Feminist Porn Book: The Politics of Producing Pleasure. New York: Feminist Press at the City University of New York, 2013.Taylor, Anthea. “Germaine Greer’s Adaptable Celebrity: Feminism, Unruliness, and Humour on the British Small Screen.” Feminist Media Studies 14.5 (2014): 759–74.University of Melbourne Archives, Germaine Greer archive. Undated. 2014.0038, Unit 216. File name “(Drawer 158) Press clippings about Germaine Greer.” “Author Attacks Dominating Male.” Interview with Germaine Greer. Interviewer and place of publication unknown. Unpaginated. ———. Undated. 2014.0038, Unit 219. File name “Bounce Titty Bounce.” “Bounce Titty Bounce.” Originally published in Suck Magazine. Viewed in unpublished manuscript form. Unpaginated. ———. 1971. 2014.0038, Unit 219. File name “Suck Editorial 1971?” “Editorial.” Suck Magazine. Issue number not provided. Unpaginated. ———. 1971. 2014.0038, Unit 219. File name: “Lady Love Your Cunt Suck.” “Lady Love Your Cunt.” Originally published in Suck Magazine. Viewed in unpublished manuscript form. Unpaginated. ———. Undated. 2014.0038, Unit 219. File name: “Suck Correspondence 73.” Untitled photographs of Germaine Greer. Originally published in Suck Magazine. Unpaginated. Wallace, Christine. Germaine Greer, Untamed Shrew. Sydney: Pan MacMillan, 1997.

Game of Thrones (GoT) has become the most popular way of referring to a universe that was previously known under the title A Song of Ice and Fire by fans of fantasy novels. Indeed, thanks to its huge success, the TV series is now the most common entry into what is today a complex narrative constellation. Game of Thrones began as a series of five novels written by George R. R. Martin (first published in 1996). It was adapted as a TV series by David Benioff and D.B. Weiss for HBO in 2011, as a comic book series (2011—2014), several video games (Blood of Dragons, 2007; A Game of Thrones: Genesis, 2011; Game of Thrones, 2012; Game of Thrones Ascent, 2013; Game of Thrones, 2014), as well as several prequel novellas, a card game (A Game of Thrones: The Card Game, 2002), and a strategy board game (2003), not to mention the promotional transmedia developed by Campfire to bring the novels’ fans to the TV series. Thus, the GoT ensemble does indeed look like a form of transmedia, at least at first sight.Game of Thrones’ UniverseGenerally, definitions of transmedia assemble three elements. First, transmedia occurs when the content is developed on several media, “with each new text making a distinctive and valuable contribution to the whole. … Each franchise entry needs to be self-contained so you don’t need to have seen the film to enjoy the game, and vice versa” (Jenkins 97-98). The second component is the narrative world. The authors of Transmédia Dans Tous Ses États notice that transmedia stories “are in some cases reduced to a plain link between two contents on two media, with no overall vision” (Collective 4). They consider these ensembles weak. For Gambarato, the main point of transmedia is “the worldbuilding experience, unfolding content and generating the possibilities for the story to evolve with new and pertinent content,” what Jenkins called “worldmaking” (116). The third ingredient is the audience. As the narrative extends itself over several platforms, consumers’ participation is essential. “To fully experience any fictional world, consumers must assume the role of hunters and gatherers, chasing down bits of the story across media channels” (Jenkins 21).The GoT constellation does not precisely match this definition. In the canonical example examined by Jenkins, The Matrix, the whole was designed from the beginning of the project. That was not the case for GoT, as the transmedia development clearly happened once the TV series had become a success. Not every entry in this ensemble unfolds new aspects of the world, as the TV series is an adaptation of the novels (until the sixth season when it overtook the books). Not every component is self-contained, as the novels and TV series are at the narrative system’s centre. This narrative ensemble more closely matches the notion of “modèle satellitaire” conceived by Saint-Gelais, where one element is the first chronologically and hierarchically. However, this statement does not devalue the GoT constellation, as the canonical definition is rarely actualized (Sepulchre “La Constellation Transmédiatique,” Philipps, Gambarato “Transmedia”), and as transmedia around TV series are generally developed after the first season, once the audience is stabilized. What is most noticeable about GoT is the fact that the TV series has probably replaced the novels as the centre of the ensemble.Under the influence of Jenkins, research on transmedia has often come to be related to fan studies. In this work, he describes very active and connected users. Research in game studies also shows that gamers are creative and form communities (Berry 155-207). However, the majority of these studies focused on hardcore fans or hardcore gamers (Bourdaa; Chen; Davis; Jenkins; Peyron; Stein). Usual users are less studied, especially for such transmedia practices.Main Question and MethodologyDue to its configuration, and the wide spectrum of users’ different levels of involvement, the GoT constellation offers an occasion to confront two audiences and their practices. GoT transmedia clearly targets both fiction lovers and gamers. The success of the franchise has led to heavy consumption of transmedia elements, even by fans who had never approached transmedia before, and may allow us to move beyond the classical analysis. That’s why, in that preliminary research, by comparing TV series viewers in general with a quite specific part of them, ordinary gamers of the videogame GOT Ascent, we aim to evaluate transmedia use in the GOT community. The results on viewers are part of a broader research project on TV series and transmedia. The originality of this study focuses on ordinary viewers, not fans. The goal is to understand if they are familiar with transmedia, if they develop transmedia practices, and why. The paper is based on 52 semi-structured interviews conducted in 2012 (11) and 2013 (41). Consumers of fictional extensions of TV series and fans of TV series were selected. The respondents are around twenty years old, university students, white, mostly female (42 women, 10 men), and are not representative outside the case study. Therefore, the purpose of this first empirical sample was simply to access ordinary GOT viewers’ behaviours, and to elaborate an initial landscape of their use of different media in the same world.After that, we focused our analysis on one specific community, a subset of the GOT’s universe’s users, that is, players of the GoT Ascent videogame (we use “gamers” as synonym for “players” and “users”). Through this online participative observation, we try to analyse the players’ attitudes, and evaluate the nature of their involvement from a user perspective (Servais). Focusing on one specific medium in the GOT constellation should allow us to further flesh out the general panorama on transmedia, by exploring involvement in one particular device more deeply. Our purpose in that is to identify whether the players are transmedia users, and so GoT fans, or if they are firstly players. During a three month in-game ethnography, in June-August 2013, we played Aren Gorn, affiliated to House Tyrell, level 91, and member of “The Winter is Dark and Full of Terrors” Alliance (2500 members). Following an in-game ethnography (Boellstorff 123-134), we explored gamers’ playing attitudes inside the interface.The Users, TV Series, and TransmediaThe respondents usually do not know what transmedia is, even if a lot of them (36) practice it. Those who are completely unaware that a narrative world can be spread over several media are rare. Only ten of them engage in fan practices (cosplay, a kind of costuming community, fan-fiction, and fan-vidding, that is fans who write fiction or make remix videos set in the world they love), which tends to show that transmedia does not only concern fans.Most of the ordinary viewers are readers, as 23 of them cite books (True Blood, Gossip Girl, Pretty Little Liars, Les Piliers de la Terre), one reads a recipe book (Plus Belle la Vie), and seven consume comics (The Walking Dead, Supernatural). They do not distinguish between novelisation (the novel adapted from a TV series) and the original book. Other media are also consumed, however a lot less: animation series, special episodes on the Internet, music, movies, websites (blogs, fictional websites), factual websites (about the story, the production, actors), fan-fiction, and cosplay.Transmedia does not seem to be a strong experience. Céline and Ioana respectively read the novels adapted from Plus Belle la Vie and Gossip Girl, but don’t like them. “It is written like a script … There’s no description, only the dialogues between characters” (Ioana). Lora watched some webisodes of Cougar Town but didn’t find them funny. Aurélie has followed the Twitter of Sookie Stackouse (True Blood) and Guilleaume D. sometimes consumes humoristic content on 9gag, but irregularly. “It’s not my thing” (Aurélie). The participants are even more critical of movies, especially the sequels of Sex and the City.That does not mean the respondents always reject transmedia components. First, they enjoy elements that are not supposed to belong to the world. These may be fan productions or contents they personally inject into the universe. Several have done research on the story’s topic: Alizée investigated mental disorders to understand United States of Tara; Guilleaume G. wandered around on Google Earth to explore Albuquerque (Breaking Bad); for Guilleaume D., Hugh Laurie’s music album is part of the character of Gregory House; Julie adores Peter Pan and, for her, Once Upon A Time, Finding Neverland, and Hook are part of the same universe. Four people particularly enjoy when the fictional characters’ couples are duplicated by real relationships between actors (which may explain all the excitement surrounding Kit Harrington and Rose Leslie’s real-life love story, paralleling their characters’ romance on GOT). If there is a transmedia production, it seems that there is also a kind of “transmedia reception,” as viewers connect heteroclite elements to build a coherent world of their own. Some respondents even develop a creative link to the world: writing fan-fiction, poetry, or building scale models (but that is not this paper’s topic, see Sepulchre “Les Constellations Narratives”, “Editorial”).A second element they appreciate is the GOT TV series. Approximately half of the respondents cite GoT (29/52). They are not fundamentally different from the other viewers except that more of them have fan practices (9 vs. 1), and a few more develop transmedia consumption (76% against 61%). To the very extent that there is consensus over the poor quality of the novels (in general), A Song of Ice and Fire seems to have seduced every respondent. Loic usually hates reading; his relatives have pointed out to him that he has read more with GoT than in his entire lifetime. Marie D. finds the novels so good that she stopped watching the TV series. Marine insists she generally reads fan-fiction because she hates the novelisations, but the GoT books are the only good ones. The novels apparently allow a deeper immersion into the world and that is the manifest benefit of consuming them. Guilleaume G. appreciates the more detailed descriptions. Céline, Florentin, Ioana, and Marine like to access the characters’ thoughts. Julie thinks she feels the emotions more deeply when she reads. Sometimes, the novels can change their opinions on a character. Emilie finds Sansa despicable in the TV series, but the books led her to understand her sensibility.Videogames & TransmediaThe vast majority of transmedia support from the GoT universe primarily targets “world lovers,” that is, users involved in media uses because they love the fantasy of the universe. However, only video games allow a personalized incarnation as a hero over a long term of time, and thus a customized active appropriation. This is in fact undoubtedly why the GoT universe’s transmedia galaxy has also been deployed in video games. GOT Ascent is a strategy game edited by Disruptor Beam, an American company specialising in TV games. Released in February 2013, the franchise attracted up to 9,000,000 players in 2014, but only 295,107 monthly active users. This significant difference between the accumulated number of players and those actually active (around 3 %) may well testify that those investing in this game are probably not a community of gamers.Combining role playing and strategy game, GoT Ascent is designed in a logic that deeply integrates the elements, not only from the TV series, but also from books and other transmedia extensions. In GoT Ascent, gamers play a small house affiliated to one of the main clans of Westeros. During the immersive game experience, the player participates in all the GoT stories from an insider’s point of view. The game follows the various GoT books, resulting in an extension whenever a new volume is published. The player interacts with others by PVE (Player versus Environment) or PVP (Player versus Player) alliances with a common chat and the possibility of sending goods to other members. With a fair general score (4,1 on 10), the game is evaluated weakly by the players (JeuxOnLine). Hence a large majority of them are probably not looking for that kind of experience.If we focus on the top players in GoT Ascent, likely representing those most invested, it is interesting to examine the names they choose. Indeed, that choice often reveals the player’s intention, either to refer to a gamer logic or the universe of GoT. During our research, we clearly distinguished two types of names, self-referential ones or those referring to the player’s general pseudonym. In concrete terms, the name is a declination of a pseudonym of more general avatars, or else refers to other video game worlds than GoT. In GoT Ascent, the second category of names, those very clearly anchored in the world of Martin, are clearly dominant.Is it possible to correlate the name chosen and the type of player? Can we affirm that people who choose a name not related to the GoT universe are players and that the others are GoT fans? Probably not obviously, but the consistency of a character’s name with the universe is, in the GoT case, very important for an immersive experience. The books’ author has carefully crafted his surnames and, in the game, assuming a name is therefore very clearly a symbolically important act in the desire to roleplay in that universe. Choosing one that is totally out of sync with the game world clearly means you are not there to immerse yourself in the spirit of GoT, but to play. In short, the first category is representative of the gamers, but the players are not restricted to those naming their avatar out of the world’s spirit.This intuition is confirmed by a review of the names related to the rank of the players. When we studied high-level players, we realized that most of them use humorous names, which are totally out of the mood of the GoT universe. Thus, in 2013, the first ranked player in terms of power was called Flatulence, a French term that is part of a humorous semantics. Yet this type of denomination is not limited to the first of the list. Out the top ten players, only two used plausible GoT names. However, as soon as one leaves the game’s elite’s sphere, the plausible names are quickly in the majority. There is a sharp opposition between the vast majority of players, who obviously try to match the world, and pure gamers.We found the same logic for the names of the Alliances, the virtual communities of players varying from a few to hundreds. Three Alliances have achieved the #1 rank in the game in the game’s first two years: Hear Me Roar (February 2013), Fire and Blood (January 2014), and Kong's Landing (September 2014). Two of those Alliances are of a more humoristic bent. However, an investigation into the 400 alliances demonstrates that fewer than 5 % have a clear humoristic signification. We might estimate that in GoT Ascent the large majority of players increase their immersive experience by choosing a GoT role play related Alliance name. We can conclude that they are mainly GoT fans playing the game, and that they seek to lend the world coherence. The high-level players are an exception. Inside GOT Ascent, the dominant culture remains connected to the GoT world.ConclusionA transmedia story is defined by its networked configuration, “worldmaking,” and users’ involvement. The GoT constellation is clearly a weak ensemble (Sepulchre, 2012). However, it has indeed developed on several platforms. Furthermore, the relationship between the novels and the TV series is quite unprecedented. Indeed, both elements are considered as qualitative, and the TV series has become the main entry for many fans. Thus, both of them acquire an equal authority.The GoT transmedia storyworld also unfolds a fictional world and depends on users’ activities, but in a peculiar way. If the viewers and gamers are analysed from fan or game studies perspectives, they appear to be weak users. Indeed, they do not seek new components; they are mainly readers and do not enjoy the transmedia experience; the players are not regular ones; and they are much less creative and humorous than high-level gamers.These weak practices have, however, one function: to prolong the pleasure of the fictional world, which is the third characteristic of transmedia. The players experiment with GoT Ascent by incarnating characters inserted into Alliances whose names may exist in the original world. This appears to be a clear attempt to become immersed in the universe. The ordinary viewers appreciate the deeper experience the novels allow. When they feed the world with unexpected elements, it is also to improve the world.Thus, transmedia appropriation by users is a reality, motivated by a taste for the universe, even if it is a weak consumption in comparison with the demanding, creative, and sometimes iconoclastic practices gamers and fans usually develop. It is obvious, in both fields, that they are new TV series fans (they quote mainly recent shows) and beginners in the world of games. For a significant part of them, GoT was probably their first time developing transmedia practices.However, GoT Ascent is not well evaluated by gamers and many of them do not repeat the experience (as the monthly number of gamers shows). Likewise, the ordinary viewers neglect the official transmedia components as too marketing oriented. The GoT novels are the exception proving the rule. 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