Articoli di riviste sul tema "Meeting of the States Parties to the Convention on the Prohibition of the Use"

1. Article X of the Convention on the Prohibition of the Development, Production and Stockpiling of Bacteriological (Biological) and Toxin Weapons and on Their Destruction (BWC) requests States Parties to facilitate and to participate “in the fullest possible exchange of equipment, materials and…information for the use of bacteriological (biological) agents and toxins for peaceful purposes.” Article X, in addition, stipulates that the Convention “shall be implemented in a manner designed to avoid hampering the economic or technological development of the states parties…or international cooperation in the field of peaceful bacteriological (biological) activities” (United Nations, 1972).

Abstract In June 2018, the Conference of States Parties of the 1993 Convention on the Prohibition of the Development, Production, Stockpiling and Use of Chemical Weapons and on their Destruction (Chemical Weapons Convention) decided to create an Investigation and Identification Team. This is a new mechanism within the Organisation for the Prohibition of Chemical Weapons (OPCW) Technical Secretariat ‘to identify the perpetrators of the use of chemical weapons in the Syrian Arab Republic’. This article analyses the background and main features of this decision and draws some preliminary conclusions on the role of the Investigation and Identification Team and its potential impact for the investigation and prosecution of crimes linked to the use of chemical weapons in Syria. Thus, after describing the events surrounding various fact-finding missions in Syria under the auspices of the OPCW and the United Nations, it considers the legal basis to interpret the Chemical Weapons Convention as enabling the OPCW to put in place arrangements to identify the perpetrators of the use of chemical weapons in Syria and elsewhere.

This contribution examines the legal merit of the Decision Addressing the Treat from Chemical Weapons, adopted by the 89th Session of the General Conference of the Organization for the Prohibition of Chemical Weapons (‘opcw’) on 27 July 2018. While relating to matters of high political importance, this Decision still raises important issues of the constitutionality of international organizations’ use of their delegated powers. This contribution pursues the detail of this matter, by focusing, among others, on the scope of the opcw’s authority under the Chemical Weapons Convention and the relationship between the opcw and the United Nations.

United States—Import Prohibition of Certain Shrimp and Shrimp Products.World Trade Organization, Appellate Body, October 12, 1998.In May 1996, the United States effectively prohibited imports of shrimp and shrimp products from all countries that do not require commercial shrimp trawlers to use turtle-excluder devices (TEDs) to permit endangered species of sea turtles to escape from trawling nets to avoid drowning. In January 1997, India, Malaysia, Pakistan and Thailand requested that the WTO Dispute Settlement Body establish a panel to determine whether this import ban, among other things, violates the prohibition on quantitative restrictions in Article XI of GATT (1994). The United States maintained that its import ban was permitted under the exceptions set forth in paragraphs (b) and (g) of GATT Article XX. Four turtle species that migrate in and out of waters subject to the complaining parties’ jurisdiction are listed as endangered under the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora and are covered by the relevant U.S. regulation.

When adopted in 2013 the international Arms Trade Treaty (att) was widely heralded for its life-saving potential and for bringing human rights and humanitarian concerns squarely into international arms transfers decision-making processes. This article takes a critical look at the att meeting cycle, which comprises an annual conference of states parties (csp), as well as preparatory sessions and meetings of the Treaty’s working groups. The article is guided by the question, are att meetings being used to their full potential to meet the Treaty’s objectives and prevent atrocities? It studies two aspects of the att meeting cycles—working groups and annual csp thematic areas of focus — to demonstrate the nature of the substantive outcomes that are emerging from conferences. The article identifies that the inability of states parties to use the meetings to address matters of compliance with the att’s prohibition and risk assessment requirements constitutes a major shortcoming, and offers suggestions and alternatives for states parties and other stakeholders.

The Convention on the Prohibition of the Development, Production, Stockpiling and Use of Chemical Weapons and on their Destruction (the Chemical Weapons Convention or CWC) was approved by the U.N. General Assembly on 30 November 1992. The treaty entered into force on 29 April 1997. The aim of this work was to study the history of signing of the CWC and its key points. First attempts to develop an international agreement restricting the use of poisons and various toxic substances in hostilities have been made in the 17th century, when the 1675 Strasbourg Agreement between France and the Holy Roman Empire banned the use of poisoned bullets. During the First and Second Peace Conferences in The Hague (1899 and 1907), its participants pledged to refrain from employing «poison or poisoned arms» and from employing «arms, projectiles, or material of a nature to cause superfluous injury». The First World War showed that this ban turned out to be ineffective, and chemical weapons appeared on the battlefield. After the war, the «Protocol for the Prohibition of the Use in War of Asphyxiating, Poisonous or Other Gases, and of Bacteriological Methods of Warfare», known as the Geneva Protocol of 1925, was developed. But this document did not ban the elaboration and the production of chemical weapons. The High Contracting Parties agreed not to use «asphyxiating, poisonous or other gases, and of all analogous liquids, materials or devices» against those States only, that acceded to the Protocol. Moreover, many States-Parties reserved their right to use chemical weapons in response to a first use by an enemy. The Iran-Iraq War (1980–1988) showed the ineffectiveness of the Geneva Protocol of 1925. Iraq’s massive use of chemical weapons against Iranian troops has accelerated the process of developing an international document – the CWC, the world`s first multilateral disarmament agreement, which provided for the verifiable elimination, within the prescribed time limit, of an entire class of weapons of mass destruction – chemical weapons. Nowadays 192 states have become parties to the CWC. The Russian Federation fully complied with the obligations undertaken by the CWC, the last Russian chemical munition was destroyed in September 2017.

The research paper discusses the use of the practice of the European Court of Human Rights as a mechanism for ensuring the rights of convicts. Today, the practice of the ECHR has become increasingly important not only in the fight against crime, but also in the protection of the rights and freedoms of convicts. This is evidenced by the adoption in 2014 of the Law of Ukraine “On Amendments to the Criminal Executive Code of Ukraine on the Adaptation of the Legal Status of a Convict to European Standards”, which is aimed at eliminating the shortcomings of the Criminal Executive Code of Ukraine in respect of compliance with constitutional requirements and European standards regarding the regime of serving the sentences by convicts and so on. Adoption of the said law entailed the implementation of various directions of ensuring the rights of convicts, which became the subject of this study. As part of the research, Article 1 of the Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms is analyzed, which states that States – Parties to the Convention undertake to ensure that everyone under their jurisdiction has the rights and freedoms set forth in the Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms. In view of the above, we believe that ensuring of rights and freedoms should also apply to convicts. Today, the practice of the ECHR is actively used in national law enforcement practice in the aspect of ensuring the rights of convicts. Such a statement is based on the own analysis of relevant judgments. The study leads to the conclusion that there are different ways of ensuring the rights of convicts, in particular, ensuring the right to a fair trial, the prevention of torture, inhuman or degrading treatment, etc. These directions of activity constitute a mechanism for ensuring the rights of convicts. In addition, we can say with certainty that convicts must be guaranteed all the rights enshrined in the Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms, which is possible taking into account the stay of persons in penitentiary institutions, in particular the right to life, prohibition of slavery and forced labour; freedom of thought, conscience and religion; freedom of expression; the right to an effective remedy; prohibition of discrimination, etc.

AbstractAdvances across the chemical and biological (life) sciences are increasingly enabled by ideas and tools from sectors outside these disciplines, with information and communication technologies playing a key role across 21st century scientific development. In the face of rapid technological change, the Organisation for the Prohibition of Chemical Weapons (OPCW), the implementing body of the Chemical Weapons Convention (“the Convention”), seeks technological opportunities to strengthen capabilities in the field of chemical disarmament. The OPCW Scientific Advisory Board (SAB) in its review of developments in science and technology examined the potential uses of emerging technologies for the implementation of the Convention at a workshop entitled “Innovative Technologies for Chemical Security”, held from 3 to 5 July 2017, in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. The event, organized in cooperation with the International Union of Pure and Applied Chemistry (IUPAC), the National Academies of Science, Engineering and Medicine of the United States of America, the Brazilian Academy of Sciences, and the Brazilian Chemical Society, was attended by 45 scientists and engineers from 22 countries. Their insights into the use of innovative technological tools and how they might benefit chemical disarmament and non-proliferation informed the SAB’s report on developments in science and technology for the Fourth Review Conference of the Convention (to be held in November 2018), and are described herein, as are recommendations that the SAB submitted to the OPCW Director-General and the States Parties of the Convention. It is concluded that technologies exist or are under development that could be used for investigations, contingency, assistance and protection, reducing risks to inspectors, and enhancing sampling and analysis.

AbstractThe Chemical Weapons Convention (CWC) is an international disarmament treaty that prohibits the development, stockpiling and use of chemical weapons. This treaty has 193 States Parties (nations for which the treaty is binding) and entered into force in 1997. The CWC contains schedules of chemicals that have been associated with chemical warfare programmes. These scheduled chemicals must be declared by the States that possess them and are subject to verification by the Organisation for the Prohibition of Chemical Weapons (OPCW, the implementing body of the CWC). Isotopically labelled and stereoisomeric variants of the scheduled chemicals have presented ambiguities for interpretation of the requirements of treaty implementation, and advice was sought from the OPCW’s Scientific Advisory Board (SAB) in 2016. The SAB recommended that isotopically labelled compounds or stereoisomers related to the parent compound specified in a schedule should be interpreted as belonging to the same schedule. This advice should benefit scientists and diplomats from the CWC’s State Parties to help ensure a consistent approach to their declarations of scheduled chemicals (which in turn supports both the correctness and completeness of declarations under the CWC). Herein, isotopically labelled and stereoisomeric variants of CWC-scheduled chemicals are reviewed, and the impact of the SAB advice in influencing a change to national licensing in one of the State Parties is discussed. This outcome, an update to national licensing governing compliance to an international treaty, serves as an example of the effectiveness of science diplomacy within an international disarmament treaty.

While discussed within the Antarctic Treaty System during the 1970s-1980s, the idea of iceberg harvesting was laid on ice due to the lack of adequate technologies and scientific knowledge on the potential environmental implications. However, the State Parties to the ATS envisioned the possibility of reopening the legal discourse. For that purpose, iced freshwater resources exploitation was excluded from the scope of the Madrid Protocol containing a ban on all mineral mining activities within the scope ratione loci of the ATS. However, during the negotiations, it was agreed that if the prospect of iceberg harvesting was ever to be realised, the environmental protection provisions under the Madrid Protocol should apply. The present paper provides an analysis of whether the potential exploitation of iced freshwater resources proves realistic within the existing legal framework under the Antarctic Treaty System and the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea and discusses which rules States would need to adhere to when engaging in such activities. It arrives at the conclusion that, as to now, there is no prohibition of iceberg harvesting for freshwater use under international law. Nevertheless, both within the scope of the ATS and in the high seas, environmental regulations restrict the implementation of the activity and, therefore, require comprehensive environmental impact assessments to be conducted before the commencement of the activity. Furthermore, as ownership allocation of icebergs is not regulated under the relevant treaties, the present paper examines two legal regimes that may potentially govern iceberg acquisition in the high seas, namely, res nullius and res communis. Finally, as private efforts have become more far-reaching in the recent decades, an overview of the current state of practice is presented, highlighting the observed advantages and potential drawbacks. Conclusively, the present paper advocates for the reopening of the legal discourse on the subject matter before the commencement of exploitation activities so as to ensure that the fragile Antarctic environment is protected and preserved for the benefit of all humankind in accordance with the object and purpose of the ATS.

In January, 2023, the Science and Security Board of the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists moved the hands of the Doomsday Clock forward to 90’s before midnight, reflecting the growing risk of nuclear war.1 In August, 2022, the UN Secretary-General António Guterres warned that the world is now in “a time of nuclear danger not seen since the height of the Cold War.2 The danger has been underlined by growing tensions between many nuclear armed states.1,3 As editors of health and medical journals worldwide, we call on health professionals to alert the public and our leaders to this major danger to public health and the essential life support systems of the planet—and urge action to prevent it. Current nuclear arms control and non-proliferation efforts are inadequate to protect the world’s population against the threat of nuclear war by design, error or miscalculation. The Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons (NPT) commits each of the 190 participating nations ”to pursue negotiations in good faith on effective measures relating to cessation of the nuclear arms race at an early date and to nuclear disarmament, and on a treaty on general and complete disarmament under strict and effective international control”.4 Progress has been disappointingly slow and the most recent NPT review conference in 2022 ended without an agreed statement.5 There are many examples of near disasters that have exposed the risks of depending on nuclear deterrence for the indefinite future.6 Modernisation of nuclear arsenals could increase risks: for example, hypersonic missiles decrease the time available to distinguish between an attack and a false alarm, increasing the likelihood of rapid escalation. Any use of nuclear weapons would be catastrophic for humanity. Even a “limited” nuclear war involving only 250 of the 13,000 nuclear weapons in the world could kill 120 million people outright and cause global climate disruption leading to a nuclear famine, putting 2 billion people at risk.7,8 A large-scale nuclear war between the USA and Russia could kill 200 million people or more in the near term, and potentially cause a global “nuclear winter” that could kill 5–6 billion people, threatening the survival of humanity.7,8 Once a nuclear weapon is detonated, escalation to all-out nuclear war could occur rapidly. The prevention of any use of nuclear weapons is therefore an urgent public health priority and fundamental steps must also be taken to address the root cause of the problem—by abolishing nuclear weapons. The health community has had a crucial role in efforts to reduce the risk of nuclear war and must continue to do so in the future.9 In the 1980s the efforts of health professionals, led by the International Physicians for the Prevention of Nuclear War (IPPNW), helped to end the Cold War arms race by educating policy makers and the public on both sides of the Iron Curtain about the medical consequences of nuclear war. This was recognised when the 1985 Nobel Peace Prize was awarded to the IPPNW.10(http://www.ippnw.org). In 2007, the IPPNW launched the International Campaign to Abolish Nuclear Weapons, which grew into a global civil society campaign with hundreds of partner organisations. A pathway to nuclear abolition was created with the adoption of the Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons in 2017, for which the International Campaign to Abolish Nuclear Weapons was awarded the 2017 Nobel Peace Prize. International medical organisations, including the International Committee of the Red Cross, the IPPNW, the World Medical Association, the World Federation of Public Health Associations, and the International Council of Nurses, had key roles in the process leading up to the negotiations, and in the negotiations themselves, presenting the scientific evidence about the catastrophic health and environmental consequences of nuclear weapons and nuclear war. They continued this important collaboration during the First Meeting of the States Parties to the Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons, which currently has 92 signatories, including 68 member states.11 We now call on health professional associations to inform their members worldwide about the threat to human survival and to join with the IPPNW to support efforts to reduce the near-term risks of nuclear war, including three immediate steps on the part of nuclear- armed states and their allies: first, adopt a no first use policy;12 second, take their nuclear weapons off hair-trigger alert; and, third, urge all states involved in current conflicts to pledge publicly and unequivocally that they will not use nuclear weapons in these conflicts. We further ask them to work for a definitive end to the nuclear threat by supporting the urgent commencement of negotiations among the nuclear-armed states for a verifiable, timebound agreement to eliminate their nuclear weapons in accordance with commitments in the NPT, opening the way for all nations to join the Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons. The danger is great and growing. The nuclear armed states must eliminate their nuclear arsenals before they eliminate us. The health community played a decisive part during the Cold War and more recently in the development of the Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons. We must take up this challenge again as an urgent priority, working with renewed energy to reduce the risks of nuclear war and to eliminate nuclear weapons.

The article is the study of certain periods of the development of abuse of right in civil proceedings. It is noted that one can foundthe first references to the abuse of right and its consequences for the legal order as a whole, as well as prototypes of liability for its commission,in the ancient documents of Roman law. It is substantiated that the Romans, in their understanding of the limits of the exercise of subjective rights, worked the way upfrom giving absolute freedom in its exercise to identifying typical cases of unfair behavior and reasonably prohibiting it in case of intentionsto cause harm to others. Actually, the intentions to cause harm to another person by one’s actions became one of the reasons forthe legislative description by Roman lawyers of the proper use of subjective right and the introduction of targeted restrictions on itsexercise, especially in the field of real estate.The abovesaid is mainly related to the subject of material civil law, however, it also matters for understanding the general contextof the development of the doctrine of abuse of right. The issues of the procedure for the enforcement of law, though not separated frommaterial law, were slightly developed in Roman law. In this regard, the concept of a lawsuit was of particular importance to the Romans.It is significant that even in Roman law, when determining the procedure for adjudicating disputes, special attention was drawnto the possible unfair actions of the litigation parties and methods of dealing with such actions. It was mainly about typical cases of fi -ling a case without merit or objecting to it.The study indicates that in spite of the collapse of the Roman Empire, the main developments and achievements of Romanlawyers in the field of private law were not lost. On the contrary, later they came into widespread use. The evidence of it is, for example,the so-called Italian canonical trial.According to some researches, in the legislation of this period, one can also find the reference to the prohibition of chicanery,that is actions formally meeting legal requirements, but carried out solely for the purpose of causing harm.It is proved that the search for the most effective means of dealing with the abuse of right continued at a new stage in the deve -lopment of the legal system of European states and owing to their successful reception of Roman law. The civil procedural legislationof Germany, France and England, having adopted the Roman idea on preventing the unlawful exercise of subjective right, demonstratedthe main approaches to a possible solution to the problem of abuse of civil procedural rights.

Abstract Since the adoption of the UN Charter, states have concluded numerous international disarmament treaties. What are their core features, and are there any trends in their design? This article discusses the five global disarmament treaties, namely the 1971 Biological Weapons Convention, the 1992 Chemical Weapons Convention, the 1997 Anti-Personnel Mine Ban Convention, the 2008 Convention on Cluster Munitions and the 2017 Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons. It first considers how a broad set of prohibitions of activities with respect to specific weapons has evolved over time. Then, it analyses the treaties’ implementation and compliance support mechanisms as well as their procedural aspects regarding entry into force and withdrawal. This article finds that a pattern has developed over the last two decades to outlaw all and any use of weapons by disarmament treaty, without first instituting a prohibition on their use under international humanitarian law (IHL). It also finds that reporting obligations, meetings of States Parties and treaty-related institutions are generally created, either directly by treaty or by subsequent state party decisions. Finally, there is a tendency to make the treaty’s entry into force easier, and the withdrawal more difficult. It is argued that these trends arise from states’ attempt to establish more easily disarmament treaties, design more robust disarmament treaties and more effectively protect civilians. The article concludes by reflecting whether these trends form the basis of a new branch of international law—international disarmament law—and discusses them in the context of emerging weapons and technologies.

In the period from 5 to 9 September 2022, in Geneva, at the initiative of the Russian Federation, in accordance with Article IV of the Convention on the Prohibition of the Development, Production and Stockpiling of Bacteriological (Biological) and Toxin Weapons and on Their Destruction (BTWC), a Consultative Meeting of the States Parties was held BTWC. As a result of the event, the delegations adopted a report that does not remove the concerns of the Russian Federation on issues related to violations of the BTWC on the territory of Ukraine. This circumstance predetermined the need to promote Russian initiatives to strengthen the BTWC compliance mechanism by adopting a protocol to the Convention defining verification mechanisms, as well as to create a BTWC Scientific Advisory Committee and expand confidence-building measures.

The Convention on the Prohibition of the Development, Production, Stockpiling and Use of Chemical Weapons and on their Destruction (the Chemical Weapons Convention or CWC) was approved by the U.N. General Assembly on 30 November 1992. The treaty entered into force on 29 April 1997. The aim of this work was to study the history of signing of the CWC and its key points. First attempts to develop an international agreement restricting the use of poisons and various toxic substances in hostilities have been made in the 17th century, when the 1675 Strasbourg Agreement between France and the Holy Roman Empire banned the use of poisoned bullets. During the First and Second Peace Conferences in The Hague (1899 and 1907), its participants pledged to refrain from employing «poison or poisoned arms» and from employing «arms, projectiles, or material of a nature to cause superfluous injury». The First World War showed that this ban turned out to be ineffective, and chemical weapons appeared on the battlefield. After the war, the «Protocol for the Prohibition of the Use in War of Asphyxiating, Poisonous or Other Gases, and of Bacteriological Methods of Warfare», known as the Geneva Protocol of 1925, was developed. But this document did not ban the elaboration and the production of chemical weapons. The High Contracting Parties agreed not to use «asphyxiating, poisonous or other gases, and of all analogous liquids, materials or devices» against those States only, that acceded to the Protocol. Moreover, many States-Parties reserved their right to use chemical weapons in response to a first use by an enemy. The Iran-Iraq War (1980–1988) showed the ineffectiveness of the Geneva Protocol of 1925. Iraq’s massive use of chemical weapons against Iranian troops has accelerated the process of developing an international document – the CWC, the world`s first multilateral disarmament agreement, which provided for the verifiable elimination, within the prescribed time limit, of an entire class of weapons of mass destruction – chemical weapons. Nowadays 192 states have become parties to the CWC. The Russian Federation fully complied with the obligations undertaken by the CWC, the last Russian chemical munition was destroyed in September 2017

The International Committee of the Red Cross is privileged to address this conference which has the task of strengthening one of the earliest prohibitions of international humanitarian law: the proscription against the use of poison as a means of warfare. This norm has its basis not only in the 1899 Hague Declaration (2) and 1907 Hague Convention (IV) but also in the rules of warfare of diverse moral and cultural systems. Ancient Greeks and Romans customarily observed a prohibition on the use of poison and poison weapons. By 500 BC the Manu Law of War in India had banned the use of such arms. A millennium later regulations on the conduct of war drawn from the Koran by the Saracens forbade poisoning.

Introduction Daffodil Day, usually held in spring, raises funds for cancer awareness and research using this symbol of hope. On that day, people who donate money to this good cause are usually given a yellow daffodil pin to wear. When I lived in Auckland, New Zealand, on the last Friday in August most people walking around the city centre proudly wore a cheerful yellow flower. So many people generously participated in this initiative that one almost felt obliged to join the cause in order to wear the ‘uniform’ – the daffodil pin – as everyone else did on that day. To donate and to wear a daffodil is the social expectation, and operating in social environment people often endeavour to meet the expectation by doing the ‘appropriate things’ defined by societies or communities. After all, who does not like to receive a beam of acceptance and appreciation from a fellow daffodil bearer in Auckland’s Queen Street? States in international society are no different. In some ways, states wear ‘uniforms’ while executing domestic and foreign affairs just as human beings do within their social groups. States develop the understandings of desirable behaviour from the international community with which they interact and identify. They are ‘socialised’ to act in line with the expectations of international community. These expectations are expressed in the form of international norms, a prescriptive set of ideas about the ‘appropriate behaviour for actors with a given identity’ (Finnemore and Sikkink 891). Motivated by this logic of appropriateness, states that comply with certain international norms in world politics justify and undertake actions that are considered appropriate for their identities. This essay starts with examining how international norms can be spread to different countries through the process of ‘state socialisation’ (how the countries are ‘talked into’ wearing the ‘uniform’). Second, the essay investigates the idea of ‘cultural match’: how domestic actors comply with an international norm by interpreting and manipulating it according to their local political and legal practices (how the countries wear the ‘uniform’ differently). Lastly, the essay probes the current international normative community and the liberal values embedded in major international norms (whether states would continue wearing the ‘uniform’). International Norms and State Socialisation: Why Do States Wear the ‘Uniforms’? Norm diffusion is related to the efforts of ‘norm entrepreneurs’ using various platforms to convince a critical mass of states to embrace new norms (Finnemore and Sikkink 895-896). Early studies of norm diffusion tend to emphasise nongovernmental organisations (NGOs) as norm entrepreneurs and advocates, such as Oxfam and its goal of reducing poverty and hunger worldwide (Capie 638). In other empirical research, intergovernmental organisations (IGOs) were shown to serve as ‘norm teachers,’ such as UNESCO educating developing countries the value of science policy organisations (Finnemore 581-586). Additionally, states and other international actors can also play important roles in norm diffusion. Powerful states with more communication resources sometimes enjoy advantages in creating and promoting new norms (Florini 375). For example, the United States and Western European countries have often been considered as the major proponents of free trade. Norm emergence and state socialisation in a normative community often occurs during critical historical periods, such as wars and major economic downturns, when international changes and domestic crises often coincide with each other (Ikenberry and Kupchan 292). For instance, the norm entrepreneurs of ‘responsible power/state’ can be traced back to the great powers (mainly the United States, Great Britain, and the Soviet Union) and their management of international order at the end of WWII (see Bull). With their negotiations and series of international agreements at the Cairo, Tehran, Yalta, and Potsdam Conference in the 1940s, these great powers established a post-World War international society based on the key liberal values of international peace and security, free trade, human rights, and democracy. Human beings are not born to know what appropriate behaviour is; we learn social norms from parents, schools, peers, and other community members. International norms are collective expectations and understanding of how state governments should approach their domestic and foreign affairs. States ‘learn’ international norms while socialising with a normative community. From a sociological perspective, socialisation summarises ‘how and to what extent diverse individuals are meshed with the requirement of collective life’ at the societal level (Long and Hadden 39). It mainly consists of the process of training and shaping newcomers by the group members and the social adjustment of novices to the normative framework and the logic of appropriateness (Long and Hadden 39). Similarly, social psychology defines socialisation as the process in which ‘social organisations influence the action and experience of individuals’ (Gold and Douvan 145). Inspired by sociology and psychology, political scientists consider socialisation to be the mechanism through which norm entrepreneurs persuade other actors (usually a norm novice) to adhere to a particular prescriptive standard (Johnston, “Social State” 16). Norm entrepreneurs can change novices’ behaviour by the methods of persuasion and social influence (Johnston, “Treating International Institutions” 496-506). Socialisation sometimes demands that individual actors should comply with organisational norms by changing their interests or preferences (persuasion). Norm entrepreneurs often attempt to construct an appealing cognitive frame in order to persuade the novices (either individuals or states) to change their normative preferences or adopt new norms. They tend to use language that can ‘name, interpret and dramatise’ the issues related to the emerging norm (Finnemore and Sikkink 987). As a main persuasive device, ‘framing’ can provide a singular interpretation and appropriate behavioural response for a particular situation (Payne 39). Cognitive consistency theory found in psychology has suggested the mechanism of ‘analogy’, which indicates that actors are more likely to accept new ideas that share some similarities to the extant belief or ideas that they have already accepted (see Hybel, ch. 2). Based on this understanding, norm entrepreneurs usually frame issues in a way that can associate and resonate with the shared value of the targeted novices (Payne 43). For example, Finnemore’s research shows that when it promoted the creation of state science bureaucracies in the 1960s, UNESCO associated professional science policy-making with the appropriate role of a modern state, which was well received by the post-war developing countries in Latin America, the Middle East, and Southeast Asia (Finnemore 565-597). Socialisation can also emanate actors’ pro-norm behaviour through a cost-benefit calculation made with social rewards and punishments (social influence). A normative community can use the mechanism of back-patting and opprobrium to distribute social reward and punishment. Back-patting – ‘recognition, praise and normative support’ – is offered for a novice’s or member’s cooperative and pro-norm behaviour (Johnston, “Treating International Institutions” 503). In contrast, opprobrium associated with status denial and identity rejection can create social and psychological costs (Johnston 504). Both the reward and punishment grow in intensity with the number of co-operators (Johnston 504). A larger community can often create more criticism towards rule-breakers, and thus greatly increase the cost of disobedience. For instance, the lack of full commitment from major powers, such as China, the United States, and some other OECD countries, has arguably made global collective action towards mitigating climate change more difficult, as the cost of non-compliance is relatively low. While being in a normative environment, novice or emerging states that have not yet been socialised into the international community can respond to persuasion and social influence through the processes of identification and mimicking. Social psychology indicates that when one actor accepts persuasion or social influence based on its desire to build or maintain a ‘satisfying self-defining relationship’ to another actor, the mechanism of identification starts to work (Kelman 53). Identification among a social group can generate ‘obligatory’ behaviour, where individual states make decisions by attempting to match their perceptions of ‘who they are’ (national identity) with the expectation of the normative community (Glodgeier and Tetlock 82). After identifying with the normative community, a novice state would then mimic peer states’ pro-norm behaviour in order to be considered as a qualified member of the social group. For example, when the Chinese government was deliberating over its ratification of the Cartagena Protocol on Biosafety in 2003, a Ministry of Environmental Protection brief noted that China should ratify the Protocol as soon as possible because China had always been a country ‘keeping its word’ in international society, and non-ratification would largely ‘undermine China’s international image and reputation’ (Ministry of Environmental Protection of PRC). Despite the domestic industry’s disagreement with entering into the Protocol, the Chinese government’s self-identification as a ‘responsible state’ that performs its international promises and duties played an important role in China’s adoption of the international norm of biosafety. Domestic Salience of International Norms: How Do States Wear the ‘Uniforms’ Differently? Individual states do not accept international norms passively; instead, state governments often negotiate and interact with domestic actors, such as major industries and interest groups, whose actions and understandings in turn impact on how the norm is understood and implemented. This in turn feeds back to the larger normative community and creates variations of those norms. There are three main factors that can contribute to the domestic salience of an international norm. First, as the norm-takers, domestic actors can decide whether and to what extent an international norm can enter the domestic agenda and how it will be implemented in policy-making. These actors tend to favour an international norm that can justify their political and social programs and promote their interests in domestic policy debates (Cortell and Davis, “How Do International Institutions Matter?” 453). By advocating the existence and adoption of an international norm, domestic actors attempt to enhance the legitimacy and authority of their current policy or institution (Acharya, “How Ideas Spread” 248). Political elites can strengthen state legitimacy by complying with an international norm in their policy-making, and consequently obtain international approval with reputation, trust, and credibility as social benefits in the international community (Finnemore and Sikkink 903). For example, when the UN General Assembly adopted the Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP), only four states – Australia, Canada, New Zealand, and the United States – voted against the Declaration. They argued that their constitutional and national policies were sufficiently responsive to the type of Indigenous self-determination envisioned by UNDRIP. Nevertheless, given the opprobrium directed against these states by the international community, and their well-organised Indigenous populations, the four state leaders recognised the value of supporting UNDRIP. Subsequently all four states adopted the Declaration, but in each instance state leaders observed UNDRIP’s ‘aspirational’ rather than legal status; UNDRIP was a statement of values that these states’ policies should seek to incorporate into their domestic Indigenous law. Second, the various cultural, political, and institutional strategies of domestic actors can influence the effectiveness of norm empowerment. Political rhetoric and political institutions are usually created and used to promote a norm domestically. Both state and societal leaders can make the performative speech act of an international norm work and raise its importance in a national context by repeated declarations on the legitimacy and obligations brought by the norm (Cortell and Davis, “Understanding the Domestic Impact” 76). Moreover, domestic actors can also develop or modify political institutions to incorporate an international norm into the domestic bureaucratic or legal system (Cortell and Davis, “Understanding the Domestic Impact” 76). These institutions provide rules for domestic actors and articulate their rights and obligations, which transforms the international norm’s legitimacy and authority into local practices. For example, the New Zealand Government adopted a non-nuclear policy in the 1980s. This policy arose from the non-nuclear movement that was leading the development of the Raratonga Treaty (South Pacific Nuclear Free Zone) and peace and Green party movements across Europe who sought to de-nuclearise the European continent. The Lange Labour Government’s 1984 adoption of an NZ anti-nuclear policy gained impetus because of these larger norm movements, and these movements in turn recognised the normative importance of a smaller power in international relations. Third, the characteristics of the international norm can also impact on the likelihood that the norm will be accepted by domestic actors. A ‘cultural match’ between international norm and local values can facilitate norm diffusion to domestic level. Sociologists suggest that norm diffusion is more likely to be successful if the norm is congruent with the prior values and practices of the norm-taker (Acharya, “Asian Regional Institutions” 14). Norm diffusion tends to be more efficient when there is a high degree of cultural match such that the global norm resonates with the target country’s domestic values, beliefs or understandings, which in turn can be reflected in national discourse, as well as the legal and bureaucratic system (Checkel 87; Cortell and Davis, “Understanding the Domestic Impact” 73). With such cultural consistency, domestic actors are more likely to accept an international norm and treat it as a given or as ‘matter-of-fact’ (Cortell and Davis, “Understanding the Domestic Impact” 74). Cultural match in norm localisation explains why identical or similar international socialisation processes can lead to quite different local developments and variations of international norms. The debate between universal human rights and the ‘Asian values’ of human rights is an example where some Asian states, such as Singapore and China, prioritise citizen’s economic rights over social and political rights and embrace collective rights instead of individual rights. Cultural match can also explain why one country may easily accept a certain international norm, or some aspect of one particular norm, while rejecting others. For example, when Taiwanese and Japanese governments adapted the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples into their local political and legal practice, various cultural aspects of Indigenous rights have been more thoroughly implemented compared to indigenous economic and political rights (Gao et al. 60-65). In some extreme cases, the norm entrepreneurs even attempt to change the local culture of norm recipients to create a better cultural match for norm localisation. For example, when it tried to socialise India into its colonial system in the early nineteenth century, Britain successfully shaped the evolution of Indian political culture by adding British values and practices into India’s social, political, and judicial system (Ikenberry and Kupchan 307-309). The International Normative Community: Would States Continue Wearing ‘Uniforms’? International norms evolve. Not every international norm can survive and sustain. For example, while imperialism and colonial expansion, where various European states explored, conquered, settled, and exploited other parts of the world, was a widely accepted idea and practice in the nineteenth century, state sovereignty, equality, and individual rights have replaced imperialism and become the prevailing norms in international society today. The meanings of the same international norm can evolve as well. The Great Powers first established the post-war international norms of ‘state responsibility’ based on the idea of sovereign equality and non-intervention of domestic affairs. However, the 1980s saw the emergence of many international organisations, which built new standards and offered new meanings for a responsible state in international society: a responsible state must actively participate in international organisations and comply with international regimes. In the post-Cold War era, international society has paid more attention to states’ responsibility to offer global common goods and to promote the values of human rights and democracy. This shift of focus has changed the international expectation of state responsibility again to embrace collective goods and global values (Foot, “Chinese Power” 3-11). In addition to the nature and evolution of international norms, the unity and strength of the normative community can also affect states’ compliance with the norms. The growing size of the community group or the number of other cooperatives can amplify the effect of socialisation (Johnston, “Treating International Institutions” 503-506). In other words, individual states are often more concerned about their national image, reputation and identity regarding norm compliance when a critical mass of states have already subscribed into the international norm. How much could this critical mass be? Finnemore and Sikkink suggest that international norms reach the threshold global acceptance when the norm entrepreneurs have persuaded at least one third of all states to adopt the new norm (901). The veto record of the United Nation Security Council (UNSC) shows this impact. China, for example, has cast a UNSC veto vote 17 times as of 2022, but it has rarely excised its veto power alone (Security Council Report). For instance, though being sceptical of the notion of ‘Responsibility to Protect’, which prioritises human right over state sovereignty, China did not veto Resolution 1973 (2011) regarding the Libyan civil war. The Resolution allowed the international society to take ‘all necessary measure to protect civilians’ from a failed state government, and it received wide support among UNSC members (no negative votes from the other 14 members). Moreover, states are not entirely equal in terms of their ‘normative weight’. When Great Powers act as norm entrepreneurs, they can usually utilise their wealth and influence to better socialise other norm novice states. In the history of promoting biological diversity norms which are embedded in the Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD), the OECD countries, especially France, UK, Germany, and Japan, have been regarded as normative leaders. French and Japanese political leaders employed normative language (such as ‘need’ and ‘must’) in various international forums to promote the norms and to highlight their normative commitment (see e.g. Chirac; Kan). Additionally, both governments provided financial assistance for developing countries to adopt the biodiversity norms. In the 2011 annual review of CBD, Japan reaffirmed its US$12 million contribution to assisting developing countries (Secretariat of the Convention on Biological Diversity 9). France joined Japan’s commitment by announcing a financial contribution of €1 million along, with some additional funding from Norway and Switzerland (Secretariat of the Convention on Biological Diversity 9). Today, biological diversity has been one of the most widely accepted international environmental norms, which 196 states/nations have ratified (United Nations). While Great Powers can make more substantial contributions to norm diffusion compared to many smaller powers with limited state capacity, Great Powers’ non-compliance with the normative ‘uniform’ can also significantly undermine the international norms’ validity and the normative community’s unity and reputation. The current normative community of climate change is hardly a unified one, as it is characterised by a low degree of consensus. Major industrial countries, such as the United States, Canada, and Australia, have not yet reached an agreement concerning their individual responsibilities for reducing greenhouse emissions. This lack of agreement, which includes the amount of cuts, the feasibility and usefulness of such cuts, and the relative sharing of cuts across various states, is complicated by the fact that large developing countries, such as China, Brazil, and India, also hold different opinions towards climate change regimes (see Vidal et al.). Experts heavily criticised the major global powers, such as the European Union and the United States, for their lack of ambition in phasing out fossil fuels during the 2022 climate summit in Egypt (COP27; Ehsan et al.). In international trade, both China and the United States are among the leading powers because of their large trade volume, capacity, and transnational network; however, both countries have recently undermined the world trade system and norms. China took punitive measures against Australian export products after Australia’s Covid-19 inquiry request at the World Health Organisation. The United States, particularly under the Trump Administration, invoked the WTO national security exception in Article XXI of the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT) to justify its tariffs on steel and aluminium. Lastly, norm diffusion and socialisation can be a ‘two-way path,’ especially when the norm novice state is a powerful and influential state in the international system. In this case, the novices are not merely assimilated into the group, but can also successfully exert some influence on other group members and affect intra-group relations (Moreland 1174). As such, the novices can be both targets of socialisation and active agents who can shape the content and outcome of socialisation processes (Pu 344). The influence from the novices can create normative contestation and thus influence the norm evolution (Thies 547). In other words, novice states can influence international society and shape the international norm during the socialisation process. For example, the ‘ASEAN Way’ is a set of norms that regulate member states’ relationships within the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN). It establishes a diplomatic and security culture characterised by informality, consultation, and dialogue, and consensus-building in decision-making processes (Caballero-Anthony). From its interaction with ASEAN, China has been socialised into the ‘ASEAN Way’ (Ba 157-159). Nevertheless, China’s relations with the ASEAN Regional Forum (ARF) also suggest that there exists a ‘feedback’ process between China and ARF which resulted in institutional changes in ARF to accommodate China’s response (Johnston, “The Myth of the ASEAN Way?” 291). For another example, while the Western powers generally promote the norm of ‘shared responsibility’ in global environment regimes, the emerging economies, such as the BRICS countries (Brazil, Russia, India, China, and South Africa), have responded to the normative engagement and proposed a ‘Common but Differentiated Responsibilities’ regime where the developing countries shoulder less international obligations. Similarly, the Western-led norm of ‘Responsibility to Protect’, which justifies international humanitarian intervention, has received much resistance from the countries that only adhere to the conventional international rules regarding state sovereignty rights and non-intervention to domestic affairs. Conclusion International norms are shared expectations about what constitutes appropriate state behaviour. They are the ‘uniforms’ for individual states to wear when operating at the international level. States comply with international norms in order to affirm their preferred national identities as well as to gain social acceptance and reputation in the normative community. When the normative community is united and sizable, states tend to receive more social pressure to consistently wear these normative uniforms – be they the Geneva Conventions or nuclear non-proliferation. Nevertheless, in the post-pandemic world where liberal values, such as individual rights and rule of law, face significant challenges and democracies are in decline, the future success of the global normative community may be at risk. Great Powers are especially responsible for the survival and sustainability of international norms. The United States under President Trump adopted a nationalist ‘America First’ security agenda: alienating traditional allies, befriending authoritarian regimes previously shunned, and rejecting multilateralism as the foundation of the post-war global order. While the West has been criticised of failing to live up to its declared values, and has suffered its own loss of confidence in the liberal model, the rising powers have offered their alternative version of the world system. Instead of merely adapting to the Western-led global norms, China has created new institutions, such as the Belt and Road Initiatives, to promote its own preferred values, and has reshaped the global order where it deems the norms undesirable (Foot, “Chinese Power in a Changing World Order” 7). Great Power participation has reshaped the landscape of global normative community, and sadly not always in positive ways. Umberto Eco lamented the disappearance of the beauty of the past in his novel The Name of the Rose: ‘stat rosa pristina nomine, nomina nuda tenemus’ ('yesterday’s rose endures in its name, we hold empty names'; Eco 538). If the international community does not want to witness an era where global norms and universal values are reduced to nominalist symbols, it must renew and reinvigorate its commitment to global values, such as human rights and democracy. It must consider wearing these uniforms again, properly. 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The structuring of a film's plot as the trajectory of the goals and desires of a single protagonist can be seen as the most critical development in cinematic narrative. In addition to its commodity implications via the star system and its centrality to a range of important film theories about fantasy and pleasure, the single protagonist is the linchpin of the cinema's ability to transmit messages that confirm the most basic myths about the power of the individual in society. While Hollywood's use of the single protagonist as a model for the self is particularly detrimental in the United States, the international dominance of American cinema means that this narrative convention can affect the formation of the self around the world. As a result, the single protagonist is the element that is most often critiqued by filmmakers and theorists who want cinema to be more politically engaged. In fact, one way of identifying a film that is aggressively political is to examine its treatment of the protagonist function. In Potemkin, for example, Sergei Eisenstein substitutes a group protagonist for Hollywood's individual so that he can demonstrate the unity of the people against their oppressors. Roberto Rossellini's neo-realist films Roma città aperta and Paisà likewise contain structures that are meant to undermine traditional Hollywood modes of narration since both films use what I call a serial protagonist. These strategies have become noticeably common, as multi-protagonist films have appeared in France, Hong Kong, and in the United States. As is typical, however, a cinematic strategy that trumpets political engagement in Europe is reduced to a stylish ornament in Hollywood. In American multi-protagonist films, the single protagonist is jettisoned, not to make a political statement, but in order to emphasise emotion over intellect, to encourage the audience not to think, but to feel. The two main strategies for accomplishing this goal are narrative fragmentation and disrupted character attachment. There are basically two kinds of multi-protagonist films. Margrit Tröhler calls them "group films" and "mosaic films." Group films feature an ensemble, a single large group such as a family or a gang whose stories are linked spatially to some central meeting place. Mosaic films, on the other hand, present a number of small groups, couples, or single characters. Initially, these people are linked only insofar as they happen to live in the same city at the same time, though eventually, as the narrative goes on, their stories become enmeshed, largely through coincidence. As a further breakdown, I would separate the "mosaic films" into action films and emotive films. Amores Perros and Go would be examples of multi-protagonist action films, where the most intense episodes in the film are active and violent; Magnolia and Happiness are examples of multi-protagonist emotive films, films in which the moments of greatest intensity are reactive and emotional. These intense moments, which occur as a series rather than as the result of cause-and-effect, are assumed to provide the major source of pleasure for spectators. Magnolia, directed by Paul Thomas Anderson in 1999, is perhaps the most striking of all the recent group of American multi-protagonist emotive films. Like Pulp Fiction and American Beauty, Magnolia was meant to bridge the gap between independent film and mainstream studio production. From its inception, Magnolia was planned as a quality production, and Anderson sold himself to New Line as their entrée into the prestige market. New Line, "the only major studio that has never had an Academy Award nomination for Best Picture" (Hirschberg 55), thought that Anderson would be their Quentin Tarantino and gave him total creative control. Michael De Luca, head of production at New Line, agrees with Anderson that there is a link between films like Magnolia and the films of the New American Cinema on the 1970s: "People who grew up on the 70s movies now have power around town" (Hirschberg 55), explaining why we are seeing so many experimental and edgy films since the turn of the century. The other thing that these people grew up on was TV, and narrative forms developed explicitly for television have become increasingly common in mainstream American cinema. Classic film theory analysed the spectator/protagonist relationship as one based on identification and resulting in momentary coherence and empowerment. Because the viewing practices associated with television are so different from those supported by classic cinema, these new TV-influenced films can be expected to create a different model for the self. The narrative structure that these millennial multi-protagonist films most closely resemble is that of the American daytime soap opera. Ironically, despite the low esteem in which soap operas are held, their episodic narrative structure and emphasis on emotions rather than logic directly shape much of cinematic storytelling today. Also ironically, whenever a non-soap opera text adopts soap practices, that text is seen as doing something daring. For example, TV series like Hill St. Blues that adopted soap operas' ensemble casts and arc narrative structure were labeled "quality television" (Feuer et al.). In a similar way, the fragmented narratives of multi-protagonist films like Magnolia are seen as stylish and experimental. However, the strategy is risky, since adoption of these narrative structures disrupts the strong bond that the single protagonist is expected to secure and may undermine viewers' pleasure in the film if they are not accustomed to soap-opera conventions. Whether it is a segment, a day's episode, or the entire run of the programme, the most striking aspect of soap-opera narrative is the fact it begins and ends in medias res. Emphasis on the middle of a story means that less attention is given to its beginning and end. Another way to say this is that soap operas focus most of their attention on the present. The focus on the present means that, although the characters in Magnolia clearly have pasts, they do not have histories. We do not know why Jimmy Gator molested his daughter, why Earl Partridge deserted his dying wife and 14-year-old son, what has happened to Stanley's mother, whether his father is successful in his career, or why Jim Kurring has become a cop. This lack of history makes it difficult to make moral judgements about them. The single character in Magnolia who explicitly attempts to create a history for himself is Frank Mackey, the male-empowerment guru played by Tom Cruise. Mackey says that a focus on the past is an excuse for not progressing in the present, further thematising the importance of the present. Soap narratives are created specifically for a viewing situation that incorporates a range of institutionally required ruptures -- commercials, promos, and other imbedded messages. As a result, soaps incorporate devices designed to sustain interest during these enforced breaks. The most typical of these strategies is the narrative gap created by an interrupted action or an unanswered question. On a daytime soap, we may only have to wait five minutes or so before returning to a particular narrative thread, but films with longer running times often extend that period considerably. For example, Gwenovier asks Frank why he would lie about the facts of his background. We do not return to Frank for over thirteen minutes. Soap-opera viewers are comfortable with these often silly narrative breaks because they know that the narrative line will eventually pick up exactly where it left off. That is not always the case in these films, however, and, indeed, Frank changes the subject. These lengthy interruptions clearly pose a challenge to active spectatorship as well as to audience tolerance. Since soap operas are eternal middles, the end of a story is always construed as a new beginning. Happy couples are presumed to be boring, and so no relationship is coded as permanent and impregnable. This pressure to resist closure creates a problem for narrative construction in multi-protagonist films, many of which have to go to great lengths to create anything like an ending. Generally chance or coincidence must be involved, a break with an important classical convention of narrative construction. Robert Altman needed an earthquake in Short Cuts, and P. T. Anderson needed frogs to rain down from the skies in order to begin to end Magnolia. Interestingly, while the open ending has been linked to the importance of the sequel in the New Hollywood, none of these multi-protagonist films has been the basis of a sequel. Soap operas have huge casts, and often characters will not appear every day. As a result, soaps are marked by diffuse viewer-character attachment. To ensure that the viewer will stay involved with the widest range of characters, the most effective soap stories present events from the perspectives of all parties to a conflict. As a result, on most soaps, while characters may do bad things from time to time, they are rarely represented as out-and-out villains. Like daytime soap operas, there are no villains in multi-protagonist emotive films. The wickedest character in Magnolia is the beloved game-show host who may have abused his young daughter. The film tries to ameliorate our sense of disgust by withholding this information until near the end of the film, focusing our attention instead on the facts that he is dying of cancer and that his daughter, a shrill and unattractive cocaine addict, cannot stand the sight of him. As a result, characters are not obviously coded in ways that make it easy for us to make moral judgments about them. Moreover, while the characters are single-mindedly going about their business, we are continually distracted and directed toward someone else's story. Far from being victims relentlessly carried along by the plot, the characters in these films burst into and disrupt the narratives of others, demanding our attention. The spectator must therefore contend not only with narrative ruptures but also with the need to reacquaint him- or herself with the characters and to continually renegotiate his or her relationship with them. This relationship will be affected not only by what the character was doing when we last met him or her, but on what kind of experience we have had during the intervening action. Two of the most useful ways of conceptualising the process by which we interact with characters in film -- those of Murray Smith and Carl Plantinga -- are put at a disadvantage by the multi-protagonist film. Both of these cognitive approaches describe the stages that spectators go through in deciding who the characters are and how we feel about what they do, and both reject psychoanalytic identification as part of their model. Although I ordinarily find their approaches highly useful, studying the multi-protagonist film leads me to conclude that their approaches are applicable to these films only with great difficulty. Both Smith and Plantinga ground their analyses on the conscious, intellectual, and voluntary conclusions that we make about the personalities and activities of the characters in films. Both men emphasise the power that narrative has in the formation of these emotional responses, and both minimise the involuntary and autonomic responses that derive from cinematic techniques rather than from the narrative. However, the fragmented nature of the narrative in the multi-protagonist film, the difficulty that characters have in dominating either our consciousness or their own worlds, and the diffusion of interest keep the process from working as Smith and Plantinga describe. For example, Murray Smith suggests that character attachment occurs in three stages: recognition, alignment, and allegiance. Each of these stages is compromised in the experience of viewing a multi-protagonist film. Recognition is the name given to the stage in which we notice various traits of the character and arrange them into some kind of coherent personality, much as we do when we meet people in real life. Magnolia takes advantage of this process to set traps for us: since the characters have no histories, if we stereotype them, we will fall into a trap. For example, Phil Parma, the male nurse, includes several sex magazines in his grocery order. While we might assume that Phil wants the magazines only to "read the articles," he uses them to get in touch with Frank, who advertises in them. However, since we know nothing of Phil's history, we cannot exonerate him: he may have remembered seeing Frank's ad in a previous issue of the magazine, or his seeing the advertisement now could simply be the kind of serendipitous accident thematised by the film. Alignment, the next phase in the character-attachment process, is likewise compromised by the multi-protagonist film. A film's investment in aligning us to a character is seen as a function of the quantity of time we spend with the character, of the degree of narrative restriction, of the representational strategies used with the character, and of the degree of access that we are given to that character's mental and emotional states. Unlike films with single protagonists, no character dominates screen time or narration in a multi-protagonist film. Nor is one character particularly favored cinematically: all the main characters are given close-ups, camera movements, and compositional prominence. In Magnolia, Jim the cop could be said to dominate the narrative since the primary action of the film begins and ends with him, he is presented as the film's moral centre, and a voiceover allows us access to his thoughts. But, as a figure representing law and order, and thus as a vehicle for the imposition of narrative control, he is a failure. He loses his gun, never realises that Claudia is high on cocaine, and allows Donnie to return the money that he stole from the furniture store where he used to work. Moreover, the narrational authority of Jim's voiceover is undermined: voiceover shots segue seamlessly into shots in which he is shown clearly talking out loud to himself. While this is a common soap-opera technique, it is uncommon in cinema and is likely to make us wonder whether Jim is OK. Finally, allegiance occurs when we weigh everything that we know about the character against his or her actions and make a moral judgment about him or her. Smith calls this "the structure of sympathy" and sees our feelings as falling along a continuum from sympathy to antipathy. Since there are no villains, it is likely that, with the exception of Jimmy Gator, we have a certain amount of sympathy for all the characters in Magnolia. That said, it is unlikely that we really like any of them either. Thus, I would argue that, if one does derive pleasure from the experience of seeing a multi-protagonist film like Magnolia, empathy is likely to be one's primary response. Both Plantinga and Smith marginalise empathy since both see it as an involuntary response to the film's cinematic techniques rather than as a product of the conscious processing of a film's narrative. However, it is for that very reason that I see empathy as the desired response in the multi-protagonist film. The fragmented narrative and the difficulties that it causes for character attachment make any other response problematic. Like the characters in the film, we are not supposed to think, just to feel. These films (and the daytime soaps) thematise several key aspects of life as we live it now: First, the plenitude of these films is such that they cannot be brought to an ending in the classical Hollywood sense; they do not end, they simply stop, and their stopping place is construed as a new beginning. Second, like the characters in Magnolia, our real lives are ruled by chance in ways that Hollywood used to deny. Second, even though the past remains an important narrative element -- three different voices in Magnolia say that "We may think we're done with the past, but the past is not done with us" -- the intensity of the emotions expressed by the characters tells us that the tensions of the present moment are really all that matter. Multi-protagonist films present several advantages to their producers and creators (e.g., the role of chance makes plot construction easier, a star doesn't have to carry the entire picture, the film can appeal to a broader demographic, the structure is critically marked as daring), but they also compromise the film's ability to represent the power of the individual, the theme that is central in all mainstream American films. Unfortunately, the American multi-protagonist film does not interrogate that theme or even address its absence directly. By presenting the spectator with a string of narrative fragments, these films create a series of sensational episodes in which people's emotions explode instead of buildings. The emotive blockbuster supports rather than critiques the view of the self as isolated, solipsistic, and focused on personal rather than social distress. References Epstein, Seymour. "Controversial Issues in Emotion Theory." In P. Shaver, ed. Review of Personality and Social Psychology: emotions, Relationships, and Health. Beverly Hills, CA: Sage, 1994: 66–68. Feuer, Jane, Paul Kerr, and Tise Vahimagi. MTM: "Quality Television." London: BFI, 1984. Hirschberg, Lynn. "His Way." [Profile of Paul Thomas Anderson] New York Times Magazine (19 December 1999): 52–56. Plantinga, Carl. "Affect, Cognition, and the Power of Movies." Post Script 13:1 (Fall 1993): 10–29. Smith, Murray. "Altered States: Character and Emotional Response in the Cinema." Cinema Journal 33:4 (Summer 1994): 34–56. Smith, Murray. "Cognition, Emotion, and Cinematic Narrative." Post Script 13:1 (Fall 1993): 30–45. Tröhler, Margrit. "Les films à protagonistes multiples et la logique des possibles." Iris 29 (Spring 2000): 85–102. Citation reference for this article Substitute your date of access for Dn Month Year etc... MLA Style Carmago, Sandy. "'Mind the Gap'" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5.5 (2002). [your date of access] < http://www.media-culture.org.au/mc/0210/Carmago.html &gt. Chicago Style Carmago, Sandy, "'Mind the Gap'" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5, no. 5 (2002), < http://www.media-culture.org.au/mc/0210/Carmago.html &gt ([your date of access]). APA Style Carmago, Sandy. (2002) 'Mind the Gap'. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5(5). < http://www.media-culture.org.au/mc/0210/Carmago.html &gt ([your date of access]).

1. Introduction: How the word 'chat' can be demeaning I think the editors mean the word 'chat' to be something of a tease. They remind us that to call something 'chat' might be to strip it of anything more serious or substantial it might be doing and, by extension, to weaken pretty well all talk. It joins 'mere talk', 'rhetoric', 'chatter' and of course 'gossip', with the pungent flavouring of sexism as an added extra. It seems that chat is limp, directionless, passive. Whoever gets to call something 'chat' has scored a win in a battle. Let's just stay with this image for a moment. Suppose it is a rhetorical victory. Scored for which side? In a battle against who or what? Well, for a commonsense view of the world that rates objects over practices, things over their descriptions, and facts over the discovery of facts. And that commonsense view, of course, is the high street version of tangled scholars' web of philosophies -- realism, materialism and essentialism. But breathe easy, because I'm not going to get us stuck in that web. All I want to do is point out -- as has long been pointed out before, especially by feminists taking a cool look at 'female language' - that some uses of the word 'chat' betray a very old-fashioned view of language. To call this edition of M/C 'Chat' is to examine that attitude. The editors want to rate practices over objects, descriptions over what they describe, and the act of discovery over what is discovered. Or at least, even if one doesn't all want to go that far, to redress the balance a little in each case. The attitude the editors want to correct is a rather complacent one. It takes people's exchange of talk as just that; as a means of transmitting what's in one person's head into the head of the other person, more or less. Inefficient, noisy and unreliable, but fixable by technology. This is, of course the 'conduit' metaphor so devastatingly unmasked by Reddy in 1979. But it would be good to see some actual examples of real people really using the word; all this has been rather hypothetical so far. In fact, what we shall find is a bit of a paradox. It turns out, if I can prefigure the action, that when people use the word 'chat' to decribe some stretch of talk, what they want to do (at least in the data I have) is not to sneer at it -- quite the contrary. But it is nevertheless highly rhetorical. It does a job. The speaker tends to use it to promote a description of a warm, informal and above all blameless event, just when there might be reason to believe that in fact something rather different would be more accurate. 2. How to analyse talk as consequential? Let me pause for a moment. Soon I shall be doing a quick survey of some examples of actual live usage of the word. I should say, in parenthesis, that M/C offered me the wonderful opportunity of actually having a link to an audio sample of these extracts, and had the data come from public sources (say from talk radio or a political speech) then I would have jumped at the chance. That way you would have been able yourself to catch the flavour of the talk undiluted by transcription conventions and the overwhelming blandness of print. But all the extracts I shall use in the article are from private conversations, the participants in which didn't give permission for their voices to be broadcast, so I'm afraid that opportunity must be passed up. But given I have transcripts, what now? How to think about language-in-use? Obviously, I have to put my money where my mouth is and treat them not like 'chat' in that demeaning, inconsequential caricature I mentioned at the beginning (and against which this whole issue of M/C is dedicated). What are the broad alternatives available? There are, loosely speaking, two sorts of things one could do, familiar to all students of language. A couple of images will be helpful, if a bit crude. The first is the pearl necklace. Here, the interesting things about the talk are its content (pearls or ivory pieces?) and its setting (one string? two?). Less fancifully, the interest is in asking: what words, what speakers, what occasion? You can trace that from William Labov and his street-level sociolinguistics (1972), or further back if you want to. What you get is a thorough rejection of the words + settings = chat. You discover, by empirical comparison of what words in what settings, such thorough non-'chat' states of affairs as social location, social discourses and social power. If the pearl necklace doesn't appeal -- it seems a bit static perhaps -- then how about the origami bird? In its prior life as undistinguished flat sheet of paper it fails to command much attention. It's the transformation that fascinates. You have to fold it up to produce it, and you have to fold it up in a certain way if you don't want it to produce an aeroplane or a hat or just a disaster. The interesting things, of course, are the details (which side do you fold first? where do you tuck?) and how that produces the beautiful end result. Or, less fancifully, the sequential structure of talk in interaction, how one part supports and constrains the next and how a stretch of it achieves social goals (beautiful or otherwise). Now for the rest of the paper I'm going to try a bit of origami, or rather, some origami-in-reverse. I'm going to try and get across the spirit of Conversation Analysis and, without spraying around too many technical terms (indeed, any, if I can help it) I'm going to take a stretch of talk and see how it folds and tucks together to make it what it is. Doing that will, I hope, show up things about it that might pass unnoticed otherwise). Readers whose fancy is tickled for this sort of thing might well want to have a look at the references at the end of the article to take it all further. 3. Example 1. "about two years ago I came round an':: (..) spent some time chattin' didn't we" Let's make a start with this case. Here we have an encounter between a psychologist and a person he is about to interview. The interview proper hasn't actually started yet, and we can read the lines below as the interviewer 'working up to' the start of the interview proper. Part of it is to remind MA that the psychologist had seen him before. Notice how the psychologist uses the word 'chatting' to describe that earlier encounter. In line 11, MR describes his previous encounter as involving "chattin'. Maybe it did, maybe it didn't. I know I shouldn't be calling in evidence which the reader can't get hold of, but Mark Rapley, the psychologist involved (and with whom I worked on the analysis; see Rapley and Antaki) pointed to that line and said to me that ('in fact') his previous dealings with MA, far from being 'chatting', had been a formal administration of a questionnaire, with all the paraphernalia of paper and pencil, and strict question and answer rights and obligations, all going down on the record. "Chattin'"? Calling it "chattin'" obliterates all that in favour of something altogether more homely and friendly. Look at what team of players it's sent out onto the field with: he "came round" (rather, than, say, 'paid an official visit') and "spent some time" (rather than 'completed my business'. They did it together -- hence the "didn't we?" The psychologist was "jus' (..) watchin' what was going on" -- not intervening, merely casually watching the world go by; note also the dropped g's. Now he's back to "see how you were gettin' on" (rather than 'administer a standardised assessment questionnaire'"). What an assembly. I'm trying to leave off any guess at what the interviewer's intentions or motives are -- we just can't know such things. But we can certainly have something to say about the effects his words give off. The origami structure that emerges from the folding is one of the 'chat' having been an interaction off the record, personal and friendly; all hearably at odds with the business the interviewer is officially prosecuting. 4. Example 2: "what Tim does (.) which is come and chat" Here is a very similar case, this time in a committee meeting: Again, I'll briefly gloss the scene (based on the previous talk, and visible in such terms as 'matters arising', the thanks expressed by one speaker to another, and the "we turn to" topic change in line 19/20). A committee meeting is in session, and AC is touting for new names to replace a member who is leaving. Committee membership is, by definition, something that is carefully regulated in standing orders and by convention, and is quite capable of being described in the most off-putting bureaucratic language (as it might be, say, were an errant member being disciplined for some infraction or other, and the thing became legalistic). Here it isn't. How does AC fold it up? AC in lines 1 to 9 is working up a request for other to nominate candidates to replace Tim Brown (all names are of course pseudonyms). We leave aside consideration of how he folds his talk so as to make the request as he does (rather than, say, deliver it as a petulant blast against his colleagues for not having provided him with any names so far). Our interest is in how the folds involve the description 'chat'. Like the psychologist interviewer in extract [1], AC bundles the 'chat' word into a description of the whole scene -- that the postgraduate representative will "come and chat," and that the interviewer "came round an':: (..)spent some time chattin'". To bundle up the description with the act of arrival is an elegantly efficient way of implying that this is the person's interest and motive in the interaction -- what they're there for. This way any candidate member can be reassured that the thing is much less onerous, official and formal than it would have sounded had AC used the bureaucratic description buried away in the Committee statutes. 'Chat', in this fold of the talk, works to eliminate the consequentiality and offputtingness of the event -- even though, of course, when the new member is inducted onto the Committee, he or she will be subject to all the dread rules and regulations that lurk in the other, hidden bureaucratic description. 5. Example 3: "we sat and chatted til about eleven" Here is another case, where, probably because the setting is not as institutional as in the first two, working out what 'chat' is doing will take us a bit more work. First the gloss. Gordon is on the phone to Danielle and talking about what he was doing the other night - we could dwell a little on his description of his guitar performance ('it went down really well') but we'll skip straight to where "chatted" appears. Unlike the previous two cases, it isn't bundled up with arrival at the scene ("come and chat" and "I came round an':: (..)spent some time chattin'"), but it does still get bundled with something -- sitting -- which parcels it up nicely as a combination-verb, something done while doing something else. Gordon and the others had no plans here; the food and wine had been consumed, then "we sat (0.3) an:' chatted (0.4) til: about eleven". Now what does such a description do for his then being struck by the thought that he'd go home and 'just phone her' (".hh then I thought (0.3) I'll come back (0.3) an' I'll jus' jus' phone you t'say that uh I'd like t'see you")? It's a magnificent play of accountability -- it holds off a collection of implications which might damage the tender sentiment presumably involved in wanting to tell someone you'd like to see them. Sitting and chatting is (notwithstanding the wine) not being drunk; it's with other people, so it's not sad-sack lonely rumination; still less is it insistent, stalking, recriminative or even violent obsession. Thinking of Danielle after (merely) being with others sitting and chatting till eleven disarms all of those possibilities; as the discursive psychologists have it (Edwards and Potter 1992) , this is a piece of 'stake management'. Gordon is inoculating himself against being seen to have the wrong sort of motivations. 'Chat' here is used as a part of a positive rhetorical strategy to have sentiments, but of the right sort. 6. Example 4: "I said to him, you know, come down 'n have a chat with me" One last example to see us out. This time we are in a marital counselling session, and the husband's ('Jeff') exams have been part of the topic of conversation, which I will gloss as being about the attention each partner pays to the other. 'Mary' now speaks. Once again the speaker is exploiting the pleasantly unspecific glow that 'chat' can have. Mary wanted Jeff to come down from 'upstairs' and 'have a chat' with her. Against this she puts words in his mouth: "I've gotta start my revising," and then her own commentary -- it was the same "every ni:ght, (.) for o:hh ye:ars.", regular as clockwork and at decidedly antisocial hours. She "never had anyone to ta:lk to" as a consequence. So the hearer is faced with Jeff's choice -- to come down from upstairs (remote, cold) and have a chat with Mary; or pursue his mechanical, laborious, self-centred and inconsiderate regime. There is, in her description, no contest; hence Jeff comes out looking something of a cold fish. Here is a lovely example of 'chat' once again being a good thing, loading the dice in the speaker's favour. 7. Concluding comments I started out saying that the word 'chat' was something of an insult. That certainly might apply when the word is used (or might be used, or is allegedly used) in a discussion about human action, and someone who wants to push the 'real', the 'material' and the 'consequential' might use 'chat' to dismiss an opponent who wants words to be responsible for some rather substantial things: reality, materiality and consequentiality. But there's a nice paradox. When you do take words seriously as doing things, and you look for what 'chat' does in people's actual usage, you find that it isn't an insult. Far from it. In the four cases we looked at the speaker was using 'chat' as a basically pleasant, socially positive and blameless description. Of course, they were doing so for rhetorical purposes, as words always are. But nevertheless there's a paradox there. In the abstract, nasty; in actuality, nice. The one thing that's constant is the fact that, in our analyses, both the hypothetical insulters and our actual glossers are using the word. In the mouths of both parties 'chat' is an interested description, as the discursive psychologists have it, following the tradition established by Garfinkel and, especially, Harvey Sacks (see, for example, the compendious Lectures on Conversation). It is always heard as a contrast (implicit or not) with something else, and does its work that way. Like it or not, 'chat' is no polite cipher. If you look at how it's folded and manipulated into the interaction, you see how it will smooth a potentially difficult interview, naturalise a possibly unwelcome encounter or set up a loaded distinction againt something mechanical and self-interested. All human life is here. If anyone needed persuading that 'chat' isn't chat, then the examples we've looked at here might have gone some way to doing so. References Atkinson, J. M., and J. Heritage, eds. Structures of Social Action: Studies in Conversation Analysis. Cambridge: Cambridge UP. Edwards, D., and J. Potter. Discursive Psychology. London: Sage, 1992. Labov, W. Language in the Inner City. Philadelphia: U of Pennsylvania P, 1972. Rapley, M., and C. Antaki. "A Conversation Analysis of the 'Acquiescence' of People with Learning Disabilities." Journal of Community and Applied Psychology 6 (1996): 371-91. Reddy, M. J. "The Conduit Metaphor - A Case of Frame Conflict in Our Language about Language." Metaphor and Thought. Ed. A. Ortony. Cambridge, England: Cambridge UP, 1979. Sacks, H. Lectures on Conversation. Ed. Gail Jefferson. Oxford: Blackwell, 1992. Notation The notation follows that of Gail Jefferson described in Atkinson and Heritage (ix - xvi), with the following deviations: (..) and (...) are untimed pauses of about .4 and .8 of a second approximately. The author would like to thank Liz Holt and Derek Edwards for permission to use transcript extracts 3 and 4, whose details are as follows -- Extract 3: Holt: 1988 Undated: Side I: Call 4 Extract 4: DE-JF/C1/S1 @ 12 June, 1993 Citation reference for this article MLA style: Charles Antaki. "Two Rhetorical Uses of the Description 'Chat'." M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3.4 (2000). [your date of access] <http://www.api-network.com/mc/0008/uses.php>. Chicago style: Charles Antaki, "Two Rhetorical Uses of the Description 'Chat'," M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3, no. 4 (2000), <http://www.api-network.com/mc/0008/uses.php> ([your date of access]). APA style: Charles Antaki. (2000) Two rhetorical uses of the description 'chat'. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3(4). <http://www.api-network.com/mc/0008/uses.php> ([your date of access]).