Articoli di riviste sul tema "National Wholesale Druggists' Association"

State boards of pharmacy strive to reshape state regulation of wholesale distributors to maintain the security and integrity of the US medication distribution system. Despite being faced with a complicated situation of illegal importation of drugs, erosion of state and national borders, and a complete disregard for US federal and state laws by entities engaged in the production and distribution of counterfeit drugs, the National Association of State Boards of Pharmacy (NABP) and state boards of pharmacy are working to develop and implement more stringent laws and regulations for the licensure and regulation of wholesale distributors. In citing incidences of counterfeit drugs from a global perspective and efforts that NABP has taken to implement the Prescription Drug Marketing Act of 1988, this discussion will highlight NABP’s recent efforts to monitor counterfeit and adulterated drugs entering the US drug distribution system, recommendations emanating from NABP’s Task Force on Counterfeit Drugs and Pedigree Requirements, and its Verified-Accredited Wholesale Distributors program.

In 1935, Congress enacted the Federal Power Act. The Act split jurisdiction over electricity generation and distribution between the Federal and state governments. The Act delegated to the Federal government jurisdiction over interstate wholesales and interstate transmission. The Act gave state governments jurisdiction over intrastate wholesales, intrastate transmission, generation, local distribution, and retail sales. Big, vertically-integrated monopoly utilities dominated the market before and for 60 years after the passage of the Act. However, over time, changes in technology and policy in the wholesale market eroded the dominance of those vertically-integrated monopoly utilities and complicated this jurisdictional bright line. In 2011, the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission (FERC) issued Order 745, requiring wholesale markets to permit demand response to operate on equal footing to traditional sources of generation. Unlike typical electricity generation, demand response involves paying consumers for a commitment not to consume electricity at a certain time. The Supreme Court sustained that Order in the 2016 case FERC v. Electric Power Supply Association. The Order allowed states to opt out of FERC’s demand response rules. This Note advocates for the removal of that state opt-out, analyzes its likely success against court challenges, and explores the possible limits of FERC jurisdiction after the 2020 case National Association of Regulatory Utility Commissioners v. FERC. If demand response reaches its full potential, it could provide as much electricity as hundreds of peak power plants. Removing the opt-out and integrating all possible demand response resources into the wholesale market is particularly timely and important given its potential to alleviate the economic and human toll from widespread blackouts such as the February 2021 Texas power system failure.

Introduction The access, watch, and reserve (AWaRe) classification of antibiotics was developed in 2019 by the WHO Expert Committee on the Selection and Use of Essential Medicines as a tool to support antibiotic stewardship efforts at local, national, and global levels. The objectives of this study were to assess the availability of antibiotics as per WHO AWaRe classification at community pharmacies located around a tertiary care hospital in Lalitpur and to compare these antibiotics with the national essential medicine list of Nepal. Method The cross-sectional study was conducted at community pharmacies located within a two-kilometer radius of a teaching hospital from August to November 2022. A total of 82 community pharmacies registered with the Nepal Chemist and Druggists Association and the Department of Drug Administration were studied. Data was collected using a standard proforma containing the names of the antibiotics classified as per the WHO’s AWaRe classification. Results Access group of antibiotics, Ampicillin, (82;100%), Amoxycillin, (82;100%), Flucloxacillin, (82;100%), and Metronidazole, (82;100%) were available in all community pharmacies. Results from the watch group showed that Azithromycin, (80; 97.6%) was available in all pharmacies followed by Cefixime, (80; 97.6%), Ciprofloxacin, (73; 89%), Levofloxacin, (74; 90.2%)and Ofloxacin, (74; 90.2%). Linezolid, (24; 29.3%) was the most common antibiotics available from the reserve group of antibiotics. Colistin was the second commonly available antibiotic. The most available antibiotic from the not recommended group were Ampicillin/Cloxacillin (82; 100%), followed by Piperacillin/Sulbactam, (39; 47.6%). There were differences in the classification of antibiotics between the WHO AWaRe list and the Essential Medicines list of Nepal in terms of numbers of antibiotics listed. Conclusion Antibiotics from the not recommended and reserve groups were commonly available in community pharmacies. The implementation of antibiotic guidelines should be emphasized along with strict monitoring of the sale of antibiotics without a prescription in community pharmacy settings.

Background: Breast cancer is the leading cause of cancer incidence worldwide and in Taiwan. The relationship between breast cancer and occupational types remains unclear. This study aimed to investigate lifetime breast cancer incidence by different occupational industries among female workers in Taiwan. Methods: A population-based retrospective case–control study was conducted using three nationwide population-based databases. Matched case and control groups were identified with 1-to-4 exact matching among 103,047 female workers with breast cancer diagnosed in 2008–2017 and those without breast cancer. Their lifetime labor enrollment records were tracked using the National Labor Insurance Database, 1950–2017. Conditional logistic regression was used to analyze the association between types of occupational industries and risk of incident breast cancer. Results: Our study found slightly significant breast cancer risk among the following major occupational classifications: manufacturing (OR: 1.027, 95% CI: 1.011–1.043); wholesale and retail trade (OR: 1.068, 95% CI: 1.052–1.084); information and communication (OR: 1.074, 95% CI: 1.043–1.105); financial and insurance activities (OR: 1.109, 95% CI: 1.086–1.133); real estate activities (OR: 1.050, 95% CI: 1.016–1.085); professional, scientific, and technical activities (OR: 1.118, 95% CI: 1.091–1.145); public administration, defense, and social security (OR: 1.054, 95% CI: 1.023–1.087), education (OR: 1.199, 95% CI: 1.168–1.230); and human health and social work activities (OR: 1.125, 95% CI: 1.096–1.156). Conclusions: Greater percentages of industrial occupations (i.e., manufacturing, wholesale and retail, or health professionals) were associated with slightly increased breast cancer risk. Further studies should investigate the possible risk factors among female workers in those industries with slightly higher incidence of breast cancer.

This paper follows a comparative approach to the analysis of collective dominance doctrine and practice in the EU and the enforcement practice in Ukraine. The aim of this paper is to assess the compliance of the Ukrainian competition authority’s (AMCU) analysis of the national electricity market with EU law enforcement practice. The latter arises from Ukraine’s wider duty to fulfil its international law obligation to comply with EU competition rules, based on Article 18 of the Treaty establishing the Energy Community also taking into account the interpretative criteria developed in EU case law (according to Article 94 of the Association Agreement between Ukraine and the EU). Article 255 of the Association Agreement, which clearly provides for the use of the principle of transparency, non-discrimination and neutrality when complying with the procedures of fairness, justice and the right of defence, also illustrates the necessity of carrying out research in this field. The paper examines notions such as: the dominance doctrine, market power definition, economic strength and collective dominance in the EU enforcement practice. Special attention is placed on enforcement practice in the electricity market. Since the scrutinised market inquiry constitutes the first investigation into the Ukrainian electricity market, there is no national practice on this issue yet. For this reason, the analysis follows a wide comparative approach towards the principles of collective dominance in the electricity market in Ukraine. The paper concludes that the AMCU’s approach to the regulation of the electricity market in Ukraine confirms the necessity to reform the system of state regulation in the wholesale electricity market and in the market of services for electricity transmission. In order to develop competition in the electricity market, it is also necessary to change the system for tariff and pricing policy formation on the part of the National Energy and Utilities Regulatory Commission of Ukraine and the Ministry of Energy and Coal-Mining Industry of Ukraine. Stressed is also the necessity to follow the approach and criteria of EU competition law with regard to the determination of market dominance. This requirement is stipulated by Ukraine’s international legal obligations arising from Articles 18 and 94 of the Treaty establishing the Energy Community and Article 255 of the Association Agreement between the EU and Ukraine.

The ability to provide essential drugs not only fulfills part of the primary health care (PHC) duties of the community health worker (CHW), but also helps legitimize the role of the CHW in the community. Essential drugs are often routed through relatively inefficient government structures before reaching the CHW, thus creating problems of regular supplies and timely distribution. Few examples are said to exist where CHWs take charge of essential drug programs to the fullest: planning, purchasing, and maintaining their own stocks. An association of CHWs in Were Nigeria has been doing just that since 1986–87. Self-assessment of this scheme was stimulated by several factors including rising wholesale prices and subsequent community member reluctance to pay for medicines. In addition, the local government had begun its own CHW training in line with national PHC guidelines and priorities. It became possible to examine the two systems side by side. The main variable used to determine system functioning was whether CHWs had replenished their village drug box stocks in the previous year. Among five factors tested, group (Were CHW association member or local government trainee) sex, age, residence (town or hamlet), and perceived willingness to pay by villagers, only group was shown to be significantly associated with stock replenishment purchases. Most (63%) of the independent Idere group had replenished their stocks compared to 35 percent of local government CHWs. Cultural factors such as elders' predisposition to provide free service to those in need were also identified. The Idere association used this information to suggest ways of improving supervision, support, and purchasing so as to strengthen their service to the community.

Background Postoperative residual neuromuscular blockade related to nondepolarizing neuromuscular blocking agents may be associated with pulmonary complications. In this study, the authors sought to determine whether sugammadex was associated with a lower risk of postoperative pulmonary complications in comparison with neostigmine. Methods Adult patients from the Vanderbilt University Medical Center National Surgical Quality Improvement Program database who underwent general anesthesia procedures between January 2010 and July 2019 were included in an observational cohort study. In early 2017, a wholesale switch from neostigmine to sugammadex occurred at Vanderbilt University Medical Center. The authors therefore identified all patients receiving nondepolarizing neuromuscular blockades and reversal with neostigmine or sugammadex. An inverse probability of treatment weighting propensity score analysis approach was applied to control for measured confounding. The primary outcome was postoperative pulmonary complications, determined by retrospective chart review and defined as the composite of the three postoperative respiratory occurrences: pneumonia, prolonged mechanical ventilation, and unplanned intubation. Results Of 10,491 eligible cases, 7,800 patients received neostigmine, and 2,691 received sugammadex. A total of 575 (5.5%) patients experienced postoperative pulmonary complications (5.9% neostigmine vs. 4.2% sugammadex). Specifically, 306 (2.9%) patients had pneumonia (3.2% vs. 2.1%), 113 (1.1%) prolonged mechanical ventilation (1.1% vs. 1.1%), and 156 (1.5%) unplanned intubation (1.6% vs. 1.0%). After propensity score adjustment, the authors found a lower absolute incidence rate of postoperative pulmonary complications over time (adjusted odds ratio, 0.91 [per year]; 95% CI, 0.87 to 0.96; P < .001). No difference was observed on the odds of postoperative pulmonary complications in patients receiving sugammadex in comparison with neostigmine (adjusted odds ratio, 0.89; 95% CI, 0.65 to 1.22; P = 0.468). Conclusions Among 10,491 patients at a single academic tertiary care center, the authors found that switching neuromuscular blockade reversal agents was not associated with the occurrence of postoperative pulmonary complications. Editor’s Perspective What We Already Know about This Topic What This Article Tells Us That Is New

Nowadays, the conditions for the further reforming of Russian electric power industry and developing its generating companies are changing. However, the problems of attracting investments into this sphere and increasing the investment appeal of the involved companies remain unsolved. The purpose of the research is to assess the investment appeal of the modern wholesale and territorial companies generating electric power, mainly for portfolio investors. The assessment was primarily conducted using the method of financial ratios, taking into consideration the approach used by A. Zaporozhan, A. Petrova and M. Kalvarskaya for assessing investment appeal of generating companies at the initial stage of the reforming of Russian electric power sector. Specific amendments to this approach are suggested. These amendments concern the increase of the number of the assessed objective financial indicators and specification of their content. Componentwise ranking of companies according to their investment appeal was conducted. It allowed the author to identify leaders and outsiders. One can observe comparability of the obtained results with the assessment of the investment appeal of generating companies as far as the quality of their corporate management is concerned, conducted by the center for corporate development ТopCompetence, Association of Independent Directors and National Research University «Higher School of Economics».

ObjectivesThe Norwegian Agreement on a More Inclusive Working Life (the IW Agreement) was introduced in 2001 amid efforts to reduce sickness absence (SA) and increase work participation. Little research has been done on the effects of this agreement. The study’s aim was to compare SA before and after introduction of the IW Agreement.MethodsData from several national registries involving 115,119 individuals born in Norway 1967–1976 was used. Individuals were classified using ICPC-2 codes into musculoskeletal (code L) and mental health (code P) diagnosis groups. A difference-in-differences method using logistic regression was used to compare the difference in one year risk of SA lasting >16 days in individuals working in IW companies relative to non-IW companies in 2000 and 2005. Analyses were adjusted for age, gender, and industry. Standard errors were clustered at the individual level and average marginal effects were calculated with 95% confidence intervals. Gender and industry specific models were also estimated.ResultsThere was no significant association between the IW Agreement and risk of SA in the overall musculoskeletal diagnosis group (-0.4 percentage points (PP), CI -0.9,0.1), but women had significantly lower risk of SA (-0.8 PP, CI -1.5,-0.1). There was no association between the IW Agreement and risk of SA in the mental health diagnosis group (overall: 0.0 PP, CI -0.3,0.3). Significant associations were found in the electricity (males: 5.2 PP, CI 0.4,10.0) and wholesale/retail sectors (females: -4.9 PP, CI -8.9,-1.0) for musculoskeletal diagnoses, and in the financial/real estate sector (overall: 1.6 PP, CI 0.2,2.9, females: 3.1 PP, CI 0.2,5.9) for mental health diagnoses.ConclusionsWomen in companies with an IW Agreement had a significant reduction in one year risk of SA for musculoskeletal diagnoses. Gender and industry may modify the association between the IW Agreement and SA in musculoskeletal and mental health diagnoses.

A diagnosis is presented on how the micro, small and medium-sized companies (MSMEs) of Tlaxcala, from the commerce sector, manage business risks, a scheme of a management model is proposed of risks that help improve performance during your first 5 years of life and because of its permanence in the market, the commercial sector was chosen wholesalers and retailers because statistics indicate that it is the sector with the highest mortality rate, for which an investigation was carried out experimental cross-sectional type in order to identify the factors of risk that impact on a low performance in MSMEs and that could cause premature death. The universe of micro, small and medium enterprises dedicated to wholesale and retail trade was reviewed and registered in the National Institute of Statistics, Geography, and Informatics (INEGI) of the state of Tlaxcala, which allowed calculating the size of the sample, which was 382 companies, which had to be selected through a non-probabilistic sampling, however, thanks to the collaboration of the businessmen, the instrument was applied to 511 companies. With the IBM SPSS STATISTICS 24 software, the hypothesis test was carried out for the correlational analysis of the association between the types of risks and the performance variables related to sales growth and annual earnings and growth in the number of workers. The results allowed identifying the elements of the scheme of a risk management model.

The article is devoted to the analysis of the latest innovations in the legislation on veterinary medicine, namely the regulation of the production, distribution and use of veterinary medicines. The adoption of the new Law of Ukraine “On Veterinary Medicine” is caused by the need to approximate the relevant national legislation with the legislation of the European Union to fulfill Ukraine’s international obligations under the Association Agreement. This law reflects the latest trends in the development of legislation on veterinary medicinal products in the European Union. The article pays attention to the strengthening of state regulation of production and distribution of veterinary medicines, in particular the introduction of licensing of imports, wholesale and retail sales of these medicines in Ukraine, due to the need to combat counterfeiting and veterinary medicinal products of dubious quality. It is also noted that the changes in the procedure of state registration of veterinary medicines provided by this law will on the one hand reduce the administrative burden on business due to the transition to indefinite state registration of veterinary drugs, and on the other hand new requirements for the registration dossier will improve the safety, quality and efficacy of veterinary medicinal products. New requirements for the use of antibiotics are analyzed. Attention is drawn to the fact that along with the regulation of the use of antibiotics in animal husbandry, it is also necessary to regulate in more detail the issues of control of the circulation of active substances (active pharmaceutical ingredients). The article also deals with the mechanism of veterinary pharmacovigilance, which is new for Ukraine. At the same time, it is necessary to study the practical experience of implementing the European model of pharmaco to improve the relevant legislation in Ukraine.

Abstract [Background] Non-myeloablative regimens have been proven to allow engraftment following allogeneic stem cells transplantation with minimal procedure-related toxicity and lower costs. Cord blood has emerged as an appealing alternative source of hematopoietic stem cells for unrelated donor transplantation, but delayed engraftment and frequent transfusion were reported. No studies have formally evaluated the cost of reduced-intensity cord blood transplantation (RICBT). [Purpose] To evaluate the relationship among costs, baseline patient characteristics, and major complications of RICBT, we performed an economic analysis of data in a clinical trial of RICBT for hematologic diseases at a single institution. [Patients and Methods] Ninety-three patients with hematological diseases (median age, 55y; range, 17–79: median body weight, 53kg; range, 38–75) underwent RICBT from March 2002 to May 2004 in Toranomon Hospital. Mean follow-up period was 77 days (range, 13–863). Data on resource use, including hospitalizations, medical procedures, medications, and diagnostic tests, were abstracted from subjects’ clinical trial records. Resources were valued using the Japanese national insurance reimbursement system for inpatient costs at one hospital and average wholesale prices for medications. Monthly costs were calculated and stratified by treatment group and clinical phase. [Results] The median initial inpatient cost was $80,400 (range, 41,300–154,700). When baseline variables were considered, disease status was significant predictor of costs. When clinical events were considered, in-hospital death was associated with higher costs. The mean length of total inpatient days was 78 days (range, 31–222), and the mean length of inpatient days post transplant was 51 days (range, 15–131). The mean units of transfused RBC, Platelet, and FFP were 27u, 224u, and 27u, respectively. [Discussion] This study firstly demonstrates that the cost of RICBT was much higher as compared to previous RIST using peripheral blood or bone marrow. RICBT is an attractive therapy, however, economic problem lies before prevalence of RICBT. The increased numbers of transfusions and supportive care would have effects on costs. The association between mortality and higher costs suggest that prevention of clinical complication may have significant economic benefits. Interventions that decrease these complications may have favorable cost-benefit ratios, and will be the focus of future investigation.

Abstract Several studies have clearly demonstrated the favorable impact of genetic selection on increasing beef cattle performance within the farm gate. Few studies, however, have attempted to quantify the value of genetic selection to downstream sectors of the beef industry, such as the meat processing sector. The objective of the current study was to characterize detailed carcass attributes of animals divergent in genetic merit for a terminal index as well as individual measures of genetic merit for carcass weight, conformation, and fat. The data used consisted of 53,674 young bulls and steers slaughtered between the years 2010 and 2013 in multiple Irish processing plants. All animals had a genetic evaluation as well as phenotypic measures of carcass characteristics. A terminal index, based on pedigree index for calving performance, feed intake, and carcass traits, calculated from the Irish national genetic evaluations, was obtained for each animal. Animals were categorized into four terminal index groups based on genetic merit estimates derived prior to the expression of the carcass phenotype by the animal. The association between genetic merit for terminal index with predicted phenotypic carcass red meat yield, carcass fat, carcass bone, and carcass composition, as well as between genetic merit for carcass weight, conformation, and fat with predicted phenotypic carcass red meat yield and composition were all quantified using linear mixed models. A greater terminal index value was associated with, on average, heavier phenotypic weights of each wholesale cut category. A greater terminal index value was also associated with a greater weight of meat and bone, but reduced carcass fat. Relative to animals in the lowest 25% genetic merit group, animals in the highest 25% genetic merit group had, on average, a greater predicted yield of very high value cuts (4.52 kg), high value cuts (13.13 kg), medium value cuts (6.06 kg), low value cuts (13.25 kg) as well as more total meat yield (37 kg). The results from the present study clearly signify a benefit to meat processers from breeding programs for terminal characteristics; coupled with the previously documented benefits to the producer, the benefits of breeding programs across the entire food production chain are obvious.

On 11 March 2020, the World Health Organization declared the coronavirus disease, more commonly known as COVID-19, a pandemic due to the number of individuals and countries affected including their socioeconomic status along with mortality rate. Center for Disease Control and Prevention and other funding agencies working to minimize the spread of COVID-19; as a result, many changes in our daily lives are being suggested.1 They continuously monitored the outbreak of COVID-19 and also issued the guidelines for both health care professionals and consumers. Allowing medical care includes telehealth coverage, nutritious, and wholesome food as per the COVID-19 response during this state of a public health emergency. During the outbreak of COVID-19, the pharmacies and wholesale market are facing a shortage of personal protective equipments (PPEs) due to besotted usage by doctors, nurses, paramedical staff, and the common public to protect themselves from the contagious and infectious diseases. Regarding the concern of health safety for medical health professionals are very cautious in regard with fighting against the COVID-19 and demanding for PPEs that is much legal, logical and necessary as per the guidelines of WHO.2 Three doctors have died during the treatment of coronavirus affected patients and >75 doctors are affected from the disease.3 After this act doctors protest in the Southwestern Pakistan City of Quetta for demanding of PPEs including protective kits for health care professionals for coronavirus medical gear; among them, 67 doctors were arrested as said by the union representative of Young Doctor Association (YDA).4 As per 13 April, 2020 more than 5374 are Covid-19 patients and 93 deaths are faced due to shortage of PPEs; as Secretary-General Pakistan Medical Association Qaiser Sajjad, explained in a press conference on April 5th that “Doctors are Frontline soldiers in the fight against the Corona and we need more and more doctors are ready to provide their services to reduced the collapse and overburden of the health care worker against for COVID-19’’.5 Health care workers that are fighting ‘’unarmed’’ against COVID-19 should be fully equipped with PPEs including surgical mask, N-95 respirator, gloves, goggles, gowns, face shields, hand sanitizer. For screening of COVID-19; trained frontline health care professionals are appointed with proper triage system to reduce the overburden and transformation of infection to other individuals. 6 N-95, N100 respirator, surgical masks, and suit kits are dire needs of the health care professional. These PPEs are discarded after each visit of doctor/paramedical staff to patients while the crowd of ill patients has been growing with a limited supply of PPEs. Some well-known and literate peoples started to buy these PPEs like masks, gloves, overalls, and other medical equipment items for their families. Officials of public and private hospitals are claiming the unavailability of PPEs, worried about their health including their families. Including PPEs, other medical products used for diagnostic and treatment purposes are also hoarded and steep high in priced by the distributers. Hospitals and other health facilities are naïve of PPEs. 7 Making exporters /distributer millionaire by exporting with higher prices in the supermarket with extremely exorbitant rates, for that federal health and other agencies are claimed that nexus of distributors/importers of medical equipment cause shortage of PPEs.8 The purpose of this note is to outline public health and social measures useful for slowing or stopping the spread of COVID-19 at the national or community level. These measures include detecting, contact tracing, isolating cases, quarantine case, physical and social distancing including mass gathering, international traveling measures. Till that no vaccine and specific medicines are available to reduce the diameter of this pandemic to save the life of individuals.9 During the pandemic situation; the national command and control system is working with good efforts with significantly increasing the health budget for national health issues by increasing the number of beds hospitals, intensive care units, equipment including ventilators, and other PPEs. Training to doctors, nurses, and other paramedical staff is done with higher priority to provide higher quality care to critically ill patients. By use of electronic and social media; community education concerning such issues is going on at best level for the prevention of such outbreaks.10

The ultimate goal in today’s electricity business in Europe is market integration on pan-European level that will introduce transparency and competition between market players, incentives to clean energy development, as well as high quality of supply to the end-customers. To achieve these goals, in South-East Europe (SEE) there are number of barriers and uncertainties, one of which is linked with the possible new undersea HVDC connections between SEE and Italy. With the support of the United States Agency for International Development (USAID) and coordination of the United States Energy Association (USEA), within the framework of the Southeast Europe Transmission System Planning Project (SECI), a detailed analysis has been accomplished on the impact of one or more undersea HVDC cables between Italy and SEE on power system operation and electricity market development [1]. Special emphasis to this analysis is given by the fact that SECI has been one of the longest running projects in the region. It started in 2001 with active participation of all regional TSOs, including continuous updating of power system and electricity market models and its harmonization of constant changes in power system planning. It is of utmost importance in the environment of constant changes of national power system development plans and needed further steps for full market opening and integration in the region. SEE power systems and market1 were modelled using the most relevant power system and market simulation and optimization softwares. Both system and market comprehensive models have been verified by all SEE TSOs. Study analyses were divided in two parts: 1) market analysis and 2) network analysis. The market study investigated expected generation pattern, power exchanges and wholesale prices in SEE, taking into account regional market synergy, the new links with Italy, and high level of RES integration. Bulgaria and Romania are currently the main exporters in SEE. Significant power exchanges in the North-South/Southeast direction are related to the fact that the GR, MK, ME, HR and AL are mainly importing, plus the influence of Italy importing over new potential HVDC cable(s). Network analysis dealt with power flows, network bottlenecks and voltage profiles in given market scenarios. Finally, the results of this comprehensive market simulation comprised of the following: Countries electricity balance (production, consumption and exchanges) Electricity prices for each country Cross-border power exchanges (MWh/h) for each border in the region on hourly basis HVDC link loadings (MWh/h) for each HVDC submarine cable on hourly basis Location and frequency of market congestions in SEE (NTCs full between areas with price difference) All those analyses have been performed in two different transmission network development scenarios: Base case scenario: with planned HVDC ME-IT Alternative scenario: with planned HVDC ME-IT, and HVDC HR-IT, and HVDC AL-IT In this way one of the most important uncertainties (new HVDC links SEE – Italy) for future power system and market operation in SEE, have been evaluated both in technical and market sense, using the most relevant inputs and model.

Background: Disability-adjusted life years (DALYs) are a synthetic health indicator used to measure the burden of disease at the population level, which provides joint information on the fatal and non-fatal consequences of diseases, injuries and risk factors. This indicator as the number of years of healthy life lost uses both to describe the epidemiological situation in different countries or regions and to estimate the population impact of different interventions. The World Health Organization as a public health emergency of international importance (ESPII) classified the new coronavirus (COVID-19). In December 2019, an association of pneumonia cases emerged in Wuhan (Hubei province, China), with a sample common to a wholesale market for seafood, fish, and live animals. On January 7, 2020, the Chinese authorities established a new virus of the Corona viridae family as the agent promoting the outbreak, which was later designated SARS-COV-2 1. The Chinese authorities shared the genetic sequence on January 12. The disease caused by this new virus by international consensus COVID-19. The Emergency Committee of the International Health Regulations (IHR, 2005) declared the outbreak as a PHEIC at its meeting on January 30, 2020. Subsequently, the WHO considered it a global pandemic on March 11, 2020 ISCIII. Cases on all continents and on March 6 the first case in Colombia and the National Institute of Health (INS) notifies the Ministry of Health daily of the figures of accumulated confirmed cases of COVID-19, as follows: total of cases, cases in hospitalizations, ICU admissions, deaths and recovered cases. The objective of this work was to estimate the burden of disease due to COVID-19 in Bogotá for the years 2020 and 2021 in order to establish the burden of disease due to this pathology. Methods: We conducted an ecological study between Jan 1, 2020, and Dec 31, 2021. We used final prevalence estimates and disability weights to estimate years lived with disability and disability-adjusted life-years (DALYs) for COVID-19 in Bogotá. Findings: The public data on COVID 19 published on the Salud-data website of the Bogotá Health Center, available at https:// saludata.saludcapital.gov.co/osb/. A total of 13,428 deaths and 482,346 laboratory-confirmed cases of COVID 19 in the study period. The discount rate that evaluates what benefits they prefer in the present and not in the future into account, so it is necessary to introduce this correction factor for future benefits, which is a procedure commonly used in economics. This same situation occurs in health, because the value given to a year of healthy life gained in the present is different and superior to that given to a year of healthy life gained in the future. The discount weight into account in the calculation as a correction since societies tend to value a year of life lost or gained differently during young adulthood than during early childhood or old age. This discount model allows the time lived at different ages to be valued using an exponential function. The burden of disease is the gap between existing health conditions and an ideal health situation. Life expectancy to calculate based on the assumption that someone is currently living and in the future to current mortality rates for each age group (42). In this case, the life table with the highest life expectancy at birth in the world used, which is that of Japan, with 80 years for men and 82.5 years for women, in addition to allowing us to compare ourselves with studies that use this value (43). This pandemic has created a greater urgency to strengthen health systems in most countries and the burden of disease must know in order to know the possible economic impact. Interpretation: This pandemic has created an increased urgency to strengthen health systems in most countries. Taking no action to address the burden of COVID-19 should not be an option.

ABSTRACTFERC Order 841 focused on standardizing electric storage resource (ESR) participation in wholesale energy, ancillary services, and capacity market ruleset, by treating storage as a generation resource. Treatment of storage as a transmission asset (SATA) is up in the air. Expect to see FERC action on ISO/RTO compliance plans in 2019.Energy storage is finally getting its due at the wholesale grid level, thanks to FERC Order 841. All the grid operators within FERC jurisdiction must comply with FERC order to allow “electric storage resource” to participate in their markets. Storage increases capacity value of renewables and decreases variability as the grid makes way for more renewables such as wind and solar. Market Monitors must understand that storage could “withhold” its capacity in early morning ramp hours for evening peak ramp hours, or participate in ancillary services regulation market without bidding into the energy market. At the same time, this resource could be a transmission asset, adding an additional level of complexity. This FERC Order 841 has its own challenges: (i) it treats storage as a generation asset, (ii) some (such as National Association for Utility Regulators) think FERC stepped on their toes, (iii) it does not address all the value stack benefits for storage-like transmission for example, and (iv) aggregation of distribution connected storage is side stepped. So the industry is watching for clear direction from their Federal regulator on this important technology, which is finally getting its due.

Livestock traceability has increasingly become a focus for the USDA, the National Cattlemen's Beef Association, high-volume beef-exporting states, and other beef industry stakeholders. The focus on traceability within the United States (U.S.) began after several international animal disease outbreaks and continues to be of importance with highly infectious diseases spreading across the globe. Mitigating adverse future disease outbreaks and food safety events, as well as maintaining export markets through a positive international perception of U.S. beef has become a top priority. Implementing a national animal identification (ID) and traceability program would enable the industry to track and reduce the potential losses due to an outbreak or event. However, such a system comes at a cost, mainly to cow-calf producers. This study utilizes a partial equilibrium model to determine the impacts of a beef cattle animal ID and traceability system in the United States. Utilizing an economic model allows us to provide a comparison of how the various beef sectors would need to respond to offset the costs of a national animal ID and traceability program. Assuming no changes in domestic and international demand for U.S. beef, producers at the wholesale, slaughter, and feeder levels lose $475 million, $1,143 million, and $1,291 million, respectively, in a 10-year discounted cumulative producer surplus. A 17.7 and 1.9% increase in international and domestic beef demand would be required to completely offset the producer costs of CattleTrace, respectively.

<strong><span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-BoldMT;"><font face="TimesNewRomanPS-BoldMT"><p align="left"> </p></font></span><p align="left"><span style="font-size: x-small; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-BoldMT;"><span style="font-size: x-small; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-BoldMT;">ABSTRACT</span></span></p></strong><span style="font-size: x-small; font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"><span style="font-size: x-small; font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"><p align="left">No information about drug use at an individual level is available from the present Norwegian wholesale</p><p align="left">statistics on drugs, i.e. who are using the medicines, for how long and in which doses. A new kind of</p><p align="left">statistics is needed to focus on and analyse the use of medications from a public health perspective and</p><p align="left">to evaluate other aspects of public health in relation to drug expenditures. To meet this need, the Ministry</p><p align="left">of Health and Social Affairs has decided to establish a new national register based on computerised</p><p align="left">prescriptions from all the pharmacies in Norway. The initiative to establish a more detailed drug</p><p align="left">statistics came partly in response to changes in the infrastructure of the Norwegian Drug Market, which</p><p align="left">started when Norway became a member of European Economic Association (EEA), in 1995. To regulate</p><p align="left">and evaluate the impact of a country’s national drug policy with respect to the promotion of the</p><p align="left">rational use of drugs, it is vital that the system designed to collect data about the consumption of</p><p align="left">medicines is set up at the level of individual patients. This paper will focus on the planning and the</p><p>necessary steps to be taken for establishing a national database of drug prescriptions in Norway.</p></span></span>

The Japanese National Action Plan on Antimicrobial Resistance (AMR) was adopted to strengthen AMR surveillance and monitoring in companion animals. The Japanese Veterinary Antimicrobial Resistance Monitoring (JVARM) system monitors the sale of veterinary antimicrobial drugs by pharmaceutical companies, and the sale of human drugs by principal wholesale companies to companion animal (dogs and cats) clinics. However, the data do not include sales by local drug suppliers and personal importation to companion animal clinics in Japan. The purposes of this study were to estimate total antimicrobial drug use by companion animal clinics in Japan and to identify the factors associated with their use. In 2018, questionnaires gathering data on attributes of the clinic and volumes of antimicrobial drugs used were sent to 212 clinics across Japan by the Japan Veterinary Medical Association. Out of the clinics, 170 valid questionnaires were returned (80.2% response rate). Antimicrobial drugs were categorized first as human, veterinary, or imported drugs and then further categorized as important drugs (critically important drugs for humans and second-choice veterinary drugs) or others. Total antimicrobial drug use was estimated based on the number of clinics reported in 2016. The relationships between antimicrobial drug use and various questionnaire items were analyzed using non-parametric regression analysis. Total antimicrobial drug use was estimated at 29.9t, which was 2.1 times higher than reported by the JVARM survey on the sales of antimicrobial drugs. In terms of total use, important drugs and human drugs accounted for 12.6 and 61.8%, respectively. Clinic income per veterinarian was associated with total antimicrobial use per veterinarian. The proportion of important drugs among all antimicrobial drugs used in a clinic was high in recently established clinics with middle-aged and older directors.

Abstract Background The prevalence of diabetes is increasing, and several new drug groups have been authorized and used successfully in the treatment of diabetes, while older drug groups are still in use. Our aim was to assess the utilization tendencies and regional differences in antidiabetic medication consumption in Hungary between 2015 and 2021 and to identify the possible determinants of regional differences in antidiabetic medication use. Methods For this retrospective drug utilization study, yearly wholesale database was used, which provides total coverage for ambulatory antidiabetic drug sales in Hungary, including both reimbursed and non-reimbursed medications. Data were expressed as Defined Daily Dose per 1000 inhabitants per day (DDD/TID), percentage of total use and the ratio of the highest and lowest utilization values among the counties (max/min ratio). To assess the potential reasons for regional differences in antidiabetic drug use, we analyzed the associations between regional drug utilization data and possible determinants. Results The total national antidiabetic medication use has increased by 7.6% and reached 94.8 DDD/TID in 2021. Regarding antidiabetic subgroups, the use of metformin and novel antidiabetics (DPP4Is, GLP1As and SGLT2Is) and their combinations increased in all counties, while sulfonylurea consumption decreased, and insulin use was stable. In 2021, 19.2–24.1% of the total antidiabetic medication consumption was novel antidiabetics, 39.1–47.2% metformin, 14.8–25.8% sulfonylureas and 23.6–30.5% were insulins. Regional differences in antidiabetic medication consumption were considerable mainly in the case of GLP1As (max/min ratio:3.00), sulfonylureas (2.03) and SGLT2Is (1.92) in 2021. The association between antidiabetic medication use and possible determinants was confirmed in the case of unemployment rate and sulfonylurea use, the number of public medical card holders per ten thousand inhabitants and human insulin and sulfonylurea use. GLP1As were the only antidiabetic drug group that did not correlate with any of the investigated factors. Conclusions Although novel antidiabetic drug use was growing dynamically in Hungary, sulfonylurea use is still considerable. Differences in antidiabetic drug consumption were substantial between the regions.

The term “coffee palace” was primarily used in Australia to describe the temperance hotels that were built in the last decades of the 19th century, although there are references to the term also being used to a lesser extent in the United Kingdom (Denby 174). Built in response to the worldwide temperance movement, which reached its pinnacle in the 1880s in Australia, coffee palaces were hotels that did not serve alcohol. This was a unique time in Australia’s architectural development as the economic boom fuelled by the gold rush in the 1850s, and the demand for ostentatious display that gathered momentum during the following years, afforded the use of richly ornamental High Victorian architecture and resulted in very majestic structures; hence the term “palace” (Freeland 121). The often multi-storied coffee palaces were found in every capital city as well as regional areas such as Geelong and Broken Hill, and locales as remote as Maria Island on the east coast of Tasmania. Presented as upholding family values and discouraging drunkenness, the coffee palaces were most popular in seaside resorts such as Barwon Heads in Victoria, where they catered to families. Coffee palaces were also constructed on a grand scale to provide accommodation for international and interstate visitors attending the international exhibitions held in Sydney (1879) and Melbourne (1880 and 1888). While the temperance movement lasted well over 100 years, the life of coffee palaces was relatively short-lived. Nevertheless, coffee palaces were very much part of Australia’s cultural landscape. In this article, I examine the rise and demise of coffee palaces associated with the temperance movement and argue that coffee palaces established in the name of abstinence were modelled on the coffee houses that spread throughout Europe and North America in the 17th and 18th centuries during the Enlightenment—a time when the human mind could be said to have been liberated from inebriation and the dogmatic state of ignorance. The Temperance Movement At a time when newspapers are full of lurid stories about binge-drinking and the alleged ill-effects of the liberalisation of licensing laws, as well as concerns over the growing trend of marketing easy-to-drink products (such as the so-called “alcopops”) to teenagers, it is difficult to think of a period when the total suppression of the alcohol trade was seriously debated in Australia. The cause of temperance has almost completely vanished from view, yet for well over a century—from 1830 to the outbreak of the Second World War—the control or even total abolition of the liquor trade was a major political issue—one that split the country, brought thousands onto the streets in demonstrations, and influenced the outcome of elections. Between 1911 and 1925 referenda to either limit or prohibit the sale of alcohol were held in most States. While moves to bring about abolition failed, Fitzgerald notes that almost one in three Australian voters expressed their support for prohibition of alcohol in their State (145). Today, the temperance movement’s platform has largely been forgotten, killed off by the practical example of the United States, where prohibition of the legal sale of alcohol served only to hand control of the liquor traffic to organised crime. Coffee Houses and the Enlightenment Although tea has long been considered the beverage of sobriety, it was coffee that came to be regarded as the very antithesis of alcohol. When the first coffee house opened in London in the early 1650s, customers were bewildered by this strange new drink from the Middle East—hot, bitter, and black as soot. But those who tried coffee were, reports Ellis, soon won over, and coffee houses were opened across London, Oxford, and Cambridge and, in the following decades, Europe and North America. Tea, equally exotic, entered the English market slightly later than coffee (in 1664), but was more expensive and remained a rarity long after coffee had become ubiquitous in London (Ellis 123-24). The impact of the introduction of coffee into Europe during the seventeenth century was particularly noticeable since the most common beverages of the time, even at breakfast, were weak “small beer” and wine. Both were safer to drink than water, which was liable to be contaminated. Coffee, like beer, was made using boiled water and, therefore, provided a new and safe alternative to alcoholic drinks. There was also the added benefit that those who drank coffee instead of alcohol began the day alert rather than mildly inebriated (Standage 135). It was also thought that coffee had a stimulating effect upon the “nervous system,” so much so that the French called coffee une boisson intellectuelle (an intellectual beverage), because of its stimulating effect on the brain (Muskett 71). In Oxford, the British called their coffee houses “penny universities,” a penny then being the price of a cup of coffee (Standage 158). Coffee houses were, moreover, more than places that sold coffee. Unlike other institutions of the period, rank and birth had no place (Ellis 59). The coffee house became the centre of urban life, creating a distinctive social culture by treating all customers as equals. Egalitarianism, however, did not extend to women—at least not in London. Around its egalitarian (but male) tables, merchants discussed and conducted business, writers and poets held discussions, scientists demonstrated experiments, and philosophers deliberated ideas and reforms. For the price of a cup (or “dish” as it was then known) of coffee, a man could read the latest pamphlets and newsletters, chat with other patrons, strike business deals, keep up with the latest political gossip, find out what other people thought of a new book, or take part in literary or philosophical discussions. Like today’s Internet, Twitter, and Facebook, Europe’s coffee houses functioned as an information network where ideas circulated and spread from coffee house to coffee house. In this way, drinking coffee in the coffee house became a metaphor for people getting together to share ideas in a sober environment, a concept that remains today. According to Standage, this information network fuelled the Enlightenment (133), prompting an explosion of creativity. Coffee houses provided an entirely new environment for political, financial, scientific, and literary change, as people gathered, discussed, and debated issues within their walls. Entrepreneurs and scientists teamed up to form companies to exploit new inventions and discoveries in manufacturing and mining, paving the way for the Industrial Revolution (Standage 163). The stock market and insurance companies also had their birth in the coffee house. As a result, coffee was seen to be the epitome of modernity and progress and, as such, was the ideal beverage for the Age of Reason. By the 19th century, however, the era of coffee houses had passed. Most of them had evolved into exclusive men’s clubs, each geared towards a certain segment of society. Tea was now more affordable and fashionable, and teahouses, which drew clientele from both sexes, began to grow in popularity. Tea, however, had always been Australia’s most popular non-alcoholic drink. Tea (and coffee) along with other alien plants had been part of the cargo unloaded onto Australian shores with the First Fleet in 1788. Coffee, mainly from Brazil and Jamaica, remained a constant import but was taxed more heavily than tea and was, therefore, more expensive. Furthermore, tea was much easier to make than coffee. To brew tea, all that is needed is to add boiling water, coffee, in contrast, required roasting, grinding and brewing. According to Symons, until the 1930s, Australians were the largest consumers of tea in the world (19). In spite of this, and as coffee, since its introduction into Europe, was regarded as the antidote to alcohol, the temperance movement established coffee palaces. In the early 1870s in Britain, the temperance movement had revived the coffee house to provide an alternative to the gin taverns that were so attractive to the working classes of the Industrial Age (Clarke 5). Unlike the earlier coffee house, this revived incarnation provided accommodation and was open to men, women and children. “Cheap and wholesome food,” was available as well as reading rooms supplied with newspapers and periodicals, and games and smoking rooms (Clarke 20). In Australia, coffee palaces did not seek the working classes, as clientele: at least in the cities they were largely for the nouveau riche. Coffee Palaces The discovery of gold in 1851 changed the direction of the Australian economy. An investment boom followed, with an influx of foreign funds and English banks lending freely to colonial speculators. By the 1880s, the manufacturing and construction sectors of the economy boomed and land prices were highly inflated. Governments shared in the wealth and ploughed money into urban infrastructure, particularly railways. Spurred on by these positive economic conditions and the newly extended inter-colonial rail network, international exhibitions were held in both Sydney and Melbourne. To celebrate modern technology and design in an industrial age, international exhibitions were phenomena that had spread throughout Europe and much of the world from the mid-19th century. According to Davison, exhibitions were “integral to the culture of nineteenth century industrialising societies” (158). In particular, these exhibitions provided the colonies with an opportunity to demonstrate to the world their economic power and achievements in the sciences, the arts and education, as well as to promote their commerce and industry. Massive purpose-built buildings were constructed to house the exhibition halls. In Sydney, the Garden Palace was erected in the Botanic Gardens for the 1879 Exhibition (it burnt down in 1882). In Melbourne, the Royal Exhibition Building, now a World Heritage site, was built in the Carlton Gardens for the 1880 Exhibition and extended for the 1888 Centennial Exhibition. Accommodation was required for the some one million interstate and international visitors who were to pass through the gates of the Garden Palace in Sydney. To meet this need, the temperance movement, keen to provide alternative accommodation to licensed hotels, backed the establishment of Sydney’s coffee palaces. The Sydney Coffee Palace Hotel Company was formed in 1878 to operate and manage a number of coffee palaces constructed during the 1870s. These were designed to compete with hotels by “offering all the ordinary advantages of those establishments without the allurements of the drink” (Murdoch). Coffee palaces were much more than ordinary hotels—they were often multi-purpose or mixed-use buildings that included a large number of rooms for accommodation as well as ballrooms and other leisure facilities to attract people away from pubs. As the Australian Town and Country Journal reveals, their services included the supply of affordable, wholesome food, either in the form of regular meals or occasional refreshments, cooked in kitchens fitted with the latest in culinary accoutrements. These “culinary temples” also provided smoking rooms, chess and billiard rooms, and rooms where people could read books, periodicals and all the local and national papers for free (121). Similar to the coffee houses of the Enlightenment, the coffee palaces brought businessmen, artists, writers, engineers, and scientists attending the exhibitions together to eat and drink (non-alcoholic), socialise and conduct business. The Johnson’s Temperance Coffee Palace located in York Street in Sydney produced a practical guide for potential investors and businessmen titled International Exhibition Visitors Pocket Guide to Sydney. It included information on the location of government departments, educational institutions, hospitals, charitable organisations, and embassies, as well as a list of the tariffs on goods from food to opium (1–17). Women, particularly the Woman’s Christian Temperance Union (WCTU) were a formidable force in the temperance movement (intemperance was generally regarded as a male problem and, more specifically, a husband problem). Murdoch argues, however, that much of the success of the push to establish coffee palaces was due to male politicians with business interests, such as the one-time Victorian premiere James Munro. Considered a stern, moral church-going leader, Munro expanded the temperance movement into a fanatical force with extraordinary power, which is perhaps why the temperance movement had its greatest following in Victoria (Murdoch). Several prestigious hotels were constructed to provide accommodation for visitors to the international exhibitions in Melbourne. Munro was responsible for building many of the city’s coffee palaces, including the Victoria (1880) and the Federal Coffee Palace (1888) in Collins Street. After establishing the Grand Coffee Palace Company, Munro took over the Grand Hotel (now the Windsor) in 1886. Munro expanded the hotel to accommodate some of the two million visitors who were to attend the Centenary Exhibition, renamed it the Grand Coffee Palace, and ceremoniously burnt its liquor licence at the official opening (Murdoch). By 1888 there were more than 50 coffee palaces in the city of Melbourne alone and Munro held thousands of shares in coffee palaces, including those in Geelong and Broken Hill. With its opening planned to commemorate the centenary of the founding of Australia and the 1888 International Exhibition, the construction of the Federal Coffee Palace, one of the largest hotels in Australia, was perhaps the greatest monument to the temperance movement. Designed in the French Renaissance style, the façade was embellished with statues, griffins and Venus in a chariot drawn by four seahorses. The building was crowned with an iron-framed domed tower. New passenger elevators—first demonstrated at the Sydney Exhibition—allowed the building to soar to seven storeys. According to the Federal Coffee Palace Visitor’s Guide, which was presented to every visitor, there were three lifts for passengers and others for luggage. Bedrooms were located on the top five floors, while the stately ground and first floors contained majestic dining, lounge, sitting, smoking, writing, and billiard rooms. There were electric service bells, gaslights, and kitchens “fitted with the most approved inventions for aiding proficients [sic] in the culinary arts,” while the luxury brand Pears soap was used in the lavatories and bathrooms (16–17). In 1891, a spectacular financial crash brought the economic boom to an abrupt end. The British economy was in crisis and to meet the predicament, English banks withdrew their funds in Australia. There was a wholesale collapse of building companies, mortgage banks and other financial institutions during 1891 and 1892 and much of the banking system was halted during 1893 (Attard). Meanwhile, however, while the eastern States were in the economic doldrums, gold was discovered in 1892 at Coolgardie and Kalgoorlie in Western Australia and, within two years, the west of the continent was transformed. As gold poured back to the capital city of Perth, the long dormant settlement hurriedly caught up and began to emulate the rest of Australia, including the construction of ornately detailed coffee palaces (Freeman 130). By 1904, Perth had 20 coffee palaces. When the No. 2 Coffee Palace opened in Pitt Street, Sydney, in 1880, the Australian Town and Country Journal reported that coffee palaces were “not only fashionable, but appear to have acquired a permanent footing in Sydney” (121). The coffee palace era, however, was relatively short-lived. Driven more by reformist and economic zeal than by good business sense, many were in financial trouble when the 1890’s Depression hit. Leading figures in the temperance movement were also involved in land speculation and building societies and when these schemes collapsed, many, including Munro, were financially ruined. Many of the palaces closed or were forced to apply for liquor licences in order to stay afloat. Others developed another life after the temperance movement’s influence waned and the coffee palace fad faded, and many were later demolished to make way for more modern buildings. The Federal was licensed in 1923 and traded as the Federal Hotel until its demolition in 1973. The Victoria, however, did not succumb to a liquor licence until 1967. The Sydney Coffee Palace in Woolloomooloo became the Sydney Eye Hospital and, more recently, smart apartments. Some fine examples still survive as reminders of Australia’s social and cultural heritage. The Windsor in Melbourne’s Spring Street and the Broken Hill Hotel, a massive three-story iconic pub in the outback now called simply “The Palace,” are some examples. Tea remained the beverage of choice in Australia until the 1950s when the lifting of government controls on the importation of coffee and the influence of American foodways coincided with the arrival of espresso-loving immigrants. As Australians were introduced to the espresso machine, the short black, the cappuccino, and the café latte and (reminiscent of the Enlightenment), the post-war malaise was shed in favour of the energy and vigour of modernist thought and creativity, fuelled in at least a small part by caffeine and the emergent café culture (Teffer). Although the temperance movement’s attempt to provide an alternative to the ubiquitous pubs failed, coffee has now outstripped the consumption of tea and today’s café culture ensures that wherever coffee is consumed, there is the possibility of a continuation of the Enlightenment’s lively discussions, exchange of news, and dissemination of ideas and information in a sober environment. References Attard, Bernard. “The Economic History of Australia from 1788: An Introduction.” EH.net Encyclopedia. 5 Feb. (2012) ‹http://eh.net/encyclopedia/article/attard.australia›. Blainey, Anna. “The Prohibition and Total Abstinence Movement in Australia 1880–1910.” Food, Power and Community: Essays in the History of Food and Drink. Ed. Robert Dare. Adelaide: Wakefield Press, 1999. 142–52. Boyce, Francis Bertie. “Shall I Vote for No License?” An address delivered at the Convention of the Parramatta Branch of New South Wales Alliance, 3 September 1906. 3rd ed. Parramatta: New South Wales Alliance, 1907. Clarke, James Freeman. Coffee Houses and Coffee Palaces in England. Boston: George H. Ellis, 1882. “Coffee Palace, No. 2.” Australian Town and Country Journal. 17 Jul. 1880: 121. Davison, Graeme. “Festivals of Nationhood: The International Exhibitions.” Australian Cultural History. Eds. S. L. Goldberg and F. B. Smith. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1989. 158–77. Denby, Elaine. Grand Hotels: Reality and Illusion. London: Reaktion Books, 2002. Ellis, Markman. The Coffee House: A Cultural History. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2004. Federal Coffee Palace. The Federal Coffee Palace Visitors’ Guide to Melbourne, Its Suburbs, and Other Parts of the Colony of Victoria: Views of the Principal Public and Commercial Buildings in Melbourne, With a Bird’s Eye View of the City; and History of the Melbourne International Exhibition of 1880, etc. Melbourne: Federal Coffee House Company, 1888. Fitzgerald, Ross, and Trevor Jordan. Under the Influence: A History of Alcohol in Australia. Sydney: Harper Collins, 2009. Freeland, John. The Australian Pub. Melbourne: Sun Books, 1977. Johnson’s Temperance Coffee Palace. International Exhibition Visitors Pocket Guide to Sydney, Restaurant and Temperance Hotel. Sydney: Johnson’s Temperance Coffee Palace, 1879. Mitchell, Ann M. “Munro, James (1832–1908).” Australian Dictionary of Biography. Canberra: National Centre of Biography, Australian National U, 2006-12. 5 Feb. 2012 ‹http://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/munro-james-4271/text6905›. Murdoch, Sally. “Coffee Palaces.” Encyclopaedia of Melbourne. Eds. Andrew Brown-May and Shurlee Swain. 5 Feb. 2012 ‹http://www.emelbourne.net.au/biogs/EM00371b.htm›. Muskett, Philip E. The Art of Living in Australia. New South Wales: Kangaroo Press, 1987. Standage, Tom. A History of the World in 6 Glasses. New York: Walker & Company, 2005. Sydney Coffee Palace Hotel Company Limited. Memorandum of Association of the Sydney Coffee Palace Hotel Company, Ltd. Sydney: Samuel Edward Lees, 1879. Symons, Michael. One Continuous Picnic: A Gastronomic History of Australia. Melbourne: Melbourne UP, 2007. Teffer, Nicola. Coffee Customs. Exhibition Catalogue. Sydney: Customs House, 2005.

‘Every space has become ad space’. Steve Hayden, Wired Magazine, May 2003. Marshall McLuhan’s (1964) dictum that media technologies constitute a sensory extension of the body shares a conceptual affinity with Ernst Jünger’s notion of ‘“organic construction” [which] indicates [a] synergy between man and machine’ and Walter Benjamin’s exploration of the mimetic correspondence between the organic and the inorganic, between human and non-human forms (Bolz, 2002: 19). The logo or brand is co-extensive with various media of communication – billboards, TV advertisements, fashion labels, book spines, mobile phones, etc. Often the logo is interchangeable with the product itself or a way or life. Since all social relations are mediated, whether by communications technologies or architectonic forms ranging from corporate buildings to sporting grounds to family living rooms, it follows that there can be no outside for sociality. The social is and always has been in a mutually determining relationship with mediating forms. It is in this sense that there is no outside. Such an idea has become a refrain amongst various contemporary media theorists. Here’s a sample: There is no outside position anymore, nor is this perceived as something desirable. (Lovink, 2002a: 4) Both “us” and “them” (whoever we are, whoever they are) are all always situated in this same virtual geography. There’s no outside …. There is nothing outside the vector. (Wark, 2002: 316) There is no more outside. The critique of information is in the information itself. (Lash, 2002: 220) In declaring a universality for media culture and information flows, all of the above statements acknowledge the political and conceptual failure of assuming a critical position outside socio-technically constituted relations. Similarly, they recognise the problems inherent in the “ideology critique” of the Frankfurt School who, in their distinction between “truth” and “false-consciousness”, claimed a sort of absolute knowledge for the critic that transcended the field of ideology as it is produced by the culture industry. Althusser’s more complex conception of ideology, material practices and subject formation nevertheless also fell prey to the pretence of historical materialism as an autonomous “science” that is able to determine the totality, albeit fragmented, of lived social relations. One of the key failings of ideology critique, then, is its incapacity to account for the ways in which the critic, theorist or intellectual is implicated in the operations of ideology. That is, such approaches displace the reflexivity and power relationships between epistemology, ontology and their constitution as material practices within socio-political institutions and historical constellations, which in turn are the settings for the formation of ideology. Scott Lash abandons the term ideology altogether due to its conceptual legacies within German dialectics and French post-structuralist aporetics, both of which ‘are based in a fundamental dualism, a fundamental binary, of the two types of reason. One speaks of grounding and reconciliation, the other of unbridgeability …. Both presume a sphere of transcendence’ (Lash, 2002: 8). Such assertions can be made at a general level concerning these diverse and often conflicting approaches when they are reduced to categories for the purpose of a polemic. However, the work of “post-structuralists” such as Foucault, Deleuze and Guattari and the work of German systems theorist Niklas Luhmann is clearly amenable to the task of critique within information societies (see Rossiter, 2003). Indeed, Lash draws on such theorists in assembling his critical dispositif for the information age. More concretely, Lash (2002: 9) advances his case for a new mode of critique by noting the socio-technical and historical shift from ‘constitutive dualisms of the era of the national manufacturing society’ to global information cultures, whose constitutive form is immanent to informational networks and flows. Such a shift, according to Lash, needs to be met with a corresponding mode of critique: Ideologycritique [ideologiekritik] had to be somehow outside of ideology. With the disappearance of a constitutive outside, informationcritique must be inside of information. There is no outside any more. (2002: 10) Lash goes on to note, quite rightly, that ‘Informationcritique itself is branded, another object of intellectual property, machinically mediated’ (2002: 10). It is the political and conceptual tensions between information critique and its regulation via intellectual property regimes which condition critique as yet another brand or logo that I wish to explore in the rest of this essay. Further, I will question the supposed erasure of a “constitutive outside” to the field of socio-technical relations within network societies and informational economies. Lash is far too totalising in supposing a break between industrial modes of production and informational flows. Moreover, the assertion that there is no more outside to information too readily and simplistically assumes informational relations as universal and horizontally organised, and hence overlooks the significant structural, cultural and economic obstacles to participation within media vectors. That is, there certainly is an outside to information! Indeed, there are a plurality of outsides. These outsides are intertwined with the flows of capital and the imperial biopower of Empire, as Hardt and Negri (2000) have argued. As difficult as it may be to ascertain the boundaries of life in all its complexity, borders, however defined, nonetheless exist. Just ask the so-called “illegal immigrant”! This essay identifies three key modalities comprising a constitutive outside: material (uneven geographies of labour-power and the digital divide), symbolic (cultural capital), and strategic (figures of critique). My point of reference in developing this inquiry will pivot around an analysis of the importation in Australia of the British “Creative Industries” project and the problematic foundation such a project presents to the branding and commercialisation of intellectual labour. The creative industries movement – or Queensland Ideology, as I’ve discussed elsewhere with Danny Butt (2002) – holds further implications for the political and economic position of the university vis-à-vis the arts and humanities. Creative industries constructs itself as inside the culture of informationalism and its concomitant economies by the very fact that it is an exercise in branding. Such branding is evidenced in the discourses, rhetoric and policies of creative industries as adopted by university faculties, government departments and the cultural industries and service sectors seeking to reposition themselves in an institutional environment that is adjusting to ongoing structural reforms attributed to the demands by the “New Economy” for increased labour flexibility and specialisation, institutional and economic deregulation, product customisation and capital accumulation. Within the creative industries the content produced by labour-power is branded as copyrights and trademarks within the system of Intellectual Property Regimes (IPRs). However, as I will go on to show, a constitutive outside figures in material, symbolic and strategic ways that condition the possibility of creative industries. The creative industries project, as envisioned by the Blair government’s Department of Culture, Media and Sport (DCMS) responsible for the Creative Industry Task Force Mapping Documents of 1998 and 2001, is interested in enhancing the “creative” potential of cultural labour in order to extract a commercial value from cultural objects and services. Just as there is no outside for informationcritique, for proponents of the creative industries there is no culture that is worth its name if it is outside a market economy. That is, the commercialisation of “creativity” – or indeed commerce as a creative undertaking – acts as a legitimising function and hence plays a delimiting role for “culture” and, by association, sociality. And let us not forget, the institutional life of career academics is also at stake in this legitimating process. The DCMS cast its net wide when defining creative sectors and deploys a lexicon that is as vague and unquantifiable as the next mission statement by government and corporate bodies enmeshed within a neo-liberal paradigm. At least one of the key proponents of the creative industries in Australia is ready to acknowledge this (see Cunningham, 2003). The list of sectors identified as holding creative capacities in the CITF Mapping Document include: film, music, television and radio, publishing, software, interactive leisure software, design, designer fashion, architecture, performing arts, crafts, arts and antique markets, architecture and advertising. The Mapping Document seeks to demonstrate how these sectors consist of ‘... activities which have their origin in individual creativity, skill and talent and which have the potential for wealth and job creation through generation and exploitation of intellectual property’ (CITF: 1998/2001). The CITF’s identification of intellectual property as central to the creation of jobs and wealth firmly places the creative industries within informational and knowledge economies. Unlike material property, intellectual property such as artistic creations (films, music, books) and innovative technical processes (software, biotechnologies) are forms of knowledge that do not diminish when they are distributed. This is especially the case when information has been encoded in a digital form and distributed through technologies such as the internet. In such instances, information is often attributed an “immaterial” and nonrivalrous quality, although this can be highly misleading for both the conceptualisation of information and the politics of knowledge production. Intellectual property, as distinct from material property, operates as a scaling device in which the unit cost of labour is offset by the potential for substantial profit margins realised by distribution techniques availed by new information and communication technologies (ICTs) and their capacity to infinitely reproduce the digital commodity object as a property relation. Within the logic of intellectual property regimes, the use of content is based on the capacity of individuals and institutions to pay. The syndication of media content ensures that market saturation is optimal and competition is kept to a minimum. However, such a legal architecture and hegemonic media industry has run into conflict with other net cultures such as open source movements and peer-to-peer networks (Lovink, 2002b; Meikle, 2002), which is to say nothing of the digital piracy of software and digitally encoded cinematic forms. To this end, IPRs are an unstable architecture for extracting profit. The operation of Intellectual Property Regimes constitutes an outside within creative industries by alienating labour from its mode of information or form of expression. Lash is apposite on this point: ‘Intellectual property carries with it the right to exclude’ (Lash, 2002: 24). This principle of exclusion applies not only to those outside the informational economy and culture of networks as result of geographic, economic, infrastructural, and cultural constraints. The very practitioners within the creative industries are excluded from control over their creations. It is in this sense that a legal and material outside is established within an informational society. At the same time, this internal outside – to put it rather clumsily – operates in a constitutive manner in as much as the creative industries, by definition, depend upon the capacity to exploit the IP produced by its primary source of labour. For all the emphasis the Mapping Document places on exploiting intellectual property, it’s really quite remarkable how absent any elaboration or considered development of IP is from creative industries rhetoric. It’s even more astonishing that media and cultural studies academics have given at best passing attention to the issues of IPRs. Terry Flew (2002: 154-159) is one of the rare exceptions, though even here there is no attempt to identify the implications IPRs hold for those working in the creative industries sectors. Perhaps such oversights by academics associated with the creative industries can be accounted for by the fact that their own jobs rest within the modern, industrial institution of the university which continues to offer the security of a salary award system and continuing if not tenured employment despite the onslaught of neo-liberal reforms since the 1980s. Such an industrial system of traditional and organised labour, however, does not define the labour conditions for those working in the so-called creative industries. Within those sectors engaged more intensively in commercialising culture, labour practices closely resemble work characterised by the dotcom boom, which saw young people working excessively long hours without any of the sort of employment security and protection vis-à-vis salary, health benefits and pension schemes peculiar to traditional and organised labour (see McRobbie, 2002; Ross, 2003). During the dotcom mania of the mid to late 90s, stock options were frequently offered to people as an incentive for offsetting the often minimum or even deferred payment of wages (see Frank, 2000). It is understandable that the creative industries project holds an appeal for managerial intellectuals operating in arts and humanities disciplines in Australia, most particularly at Queensland University of Technology (QUT), which claims to have established the ‘world’s first’ Creative Industries faculty (http://www.creativeindustries.qut.com/). The creative industries provide a validating discourse for those suffering anxiety disorders over what Ruth Barcan (2003) has called the ‘usefulness’ of ‘idle’ intellectual pastimes. As a project that endeavours to articulate graduate skills with labour markets, the creative industries is a natural extension of the neo-liberal agenda within education as advocated by successive governments in Australia since the Dawkins reforms in the mid 1980s (see Marginson and Considine, 2000). Certainly there’s a constructive dimension to this: graduates, after all, need jobs and universities should display an awareness of market conditions; they also have a responsibility to do so. And on this count, I find it remarkable that so many university departments in my own field of communications and media studies are so bold and, let’s face it, stupid, as to make unwavering assertions about market demands and student needs on the basis of doing little more than sniffing the wind! Time for a bit of a reality check, I’d say. And this means becoming a little more serious about allocating funds and resources towards market research and analysis based on the combination of needs between students, staff, disciplinary values, university expectations, and the political economy of markets. However, the extent to which there should be a wholesale shift of the arts and humanities into a creative industries model is open to debate. The arts and humanities, after all, are a set of disciplinary practices and values that operate as a constitutive outside for creative industries. Indeed, in their creative industries manifesto, Stuart Cunningham and John Hartley (2002) loath the arts and humanities in such confused, paradoxical and hypocritical ways in order to establish the arts and humanities as a cultural and ideological outside. To this end, to subsume the arts and humanities into the creative industries, if not eradicate them altogether, is to spell the end of creative industries as it’s currently conceived at the institutional level within academe. Too much specialisation in one post-industrial sector, broad as it may be, ensures a situation of labour reserves that exceed market needs. One only needs to consider all those now unemployed web-designers that graduated from multi-media programs in the mid to late 90s. Further, it does not augur well for the inevitable shift from or collapse of a creative industries economy. Where is the standing reserve of labour shaped by university education and training in a post-creative industries economy? Diehard neo-liberals and true-believers in the capacity for perpetual institutional flexibility would say that this isn’t a problem. The university will just “organically” adapt to prevailing market conditions and shape their curriculum and staff composition accordingly. Perhaps. Arguably if the university is to maintain a modality of time that is distinct from the just-in-time mode of production characteristic of informational economies – and indeed, such a difference is a quality that defines the market value of the educational commodity – then limits have to be established between institutions of education and the corporate organisation or creative industry entity. The creative industries project is a reactionary model insofar as it reinforces the status quo of labour relations within a neo-liberal paradigm in which bids for industry contracts are based on a combination of rich technological infrastructures that have often been subsidised by the state (i.e. paid for by the public), high labour skills, a low currency exchange rate and the lowest possible labour costs. In this respect it is no wonder that literature on the creative industries omits discussion of the importance of unions within informational, networked economies. What is the place of unions in a labour force constituted as individualised units? The conditions of possibility for creative industries within Australia are at once its frailties. In many respects, the success of the creative industries sector depends upon the ongoing combination of cheap labour enabled by a low currency exchange rate and the capacity of students to access the skills and training offered by universities. Certainly in relation to matters such as these there is no outside for the creative industries. There’s a great need to explore alternative economic models to the content production one if wealth is to be successfully extracted and distributed from activities in the new media sectors. The suggestion that the creative industries project initiates a strategic response to the conditions of cultural production within network societies and informational economies is highly debateable. The now well documented history of digital piracy in the film and software industries and the difficulties associated with regulating violations to proprietors of IP in the form of copyright and trademarks is enough of a reason to look for alternative models of wealth extraction. And you can be sure this will occur irrespective of the endeavours of the creative industries. To conclude, I am suggesting that those working in the creative industries, be they content producers or educators, need to intervene in IPRs in such a way that: 1) ensures the alienation of their labour is minimised; 2) collectivising “creative” labour in the form of unions or what Wark (2001) has termed the “hacker class”, as distinct from the “vectoralist class”, may be one way of achieving this; and 3) the advocates of creative industries within the higher education sector in particular are made aware of the implications IPRs have for graduates entering the workforce and adjust their rhetoric, curriculum, and policy engagements accordingly. Works Cited Barcan, Ruth. ‘The Idleness of Academics: Reflections on the Usefulness of Cultural Studies’. Continuum: Journal of Media & Cultural Studies (forthcoming, 2003). Bolz, Norbert. ‘Rethinking Media Aesthetics’, in Geert Lovink, Uncanny Networks: Dialogues with the Virtual Intelligentsia. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2002, 18-27. Butt, Danny and Rossiter, Ned. ‘Blowing Bubbles: Post-Crash Creative Industries and the Withering of Political Critique in Cultural Studies’. Paper presented at Ute Culture: The Utility of Culture and the Uses of Cultural Studies, Cultural Studies Association of Australia Conference, Melbourne, 5-7 December, 2002. Posted to fibreculture mailing list, 10 December, 2002, http://www.fibreculture.org/archives/index.html Creative Industry Task Force: Mapping Document, DCMS (Department of Culture, Media and Sport), London, 1998/2001. http://www.culture.gov.uk/creative/mapping.html Cunningham, Stuart. ‘The Evolving Creative Industries: From Original Assumptions to Contemporary Interpretations’. Seminar Paper, QUT, Brisbane, 9 May, 2003, http://www.creativeindustries.qut.com/research/cirac/documen... ...ts/THE_EVOLVING_CREATIVE_INDUSTRIES.pdf Cunningham, Stuart; Hearn, Gregory; Cox, Stephen; Ninan, Abraham and Keane, Michael. Brisbane’s Creative Industries 2003. Report delivered to Brisbane City Council, Community and Economic Development, Brisbane: CIRAC, 2003. http://www.creativeindustries.qut.com/research/cirac/documen... ...ts/bccreportonly.pdf Flew, Terry. New Media: An Introduction. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002. Frank, Thomas. One Market under God: Extreme Capitalism, Market Populism, and the End of Economic Democracy. New York: Anchor Books, 2000. Hartley, John and Cunningham, Stuart. ‘Creative Industries: from Blue Poles to fat pipes’, in Malcolm Gillies (ed.) The National Humanities and Social Sciences Summit: Position Papers. Canberra: DEST, 2002. Hayden, Steve. ‘Tastes Great, Less Filling: Ad Space – Will Advertisers Learn the Hard Lesson of Over-Development?’. Wired Magazine 11.06 (June, 2003), http://www.wired.com/wired/archive/11.06/ad_spc.html Hardt, Michael and Negri, Antonio. Empire. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2000. Lash, Scott. Critique of Information. London: Sage, 2002. Lovink, Geert. Uncanny Networks: Dialogues with the Virtual Intelligentsia. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2002a. Lovink, Geert. Dark Fiber: Tracking Critical Internet Culture. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2002b. McLuhan, Marshall. Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1964. McRobbie, Angela. ‘Clubs to Companies: Notes on the Decline of Political Culture in Speeded up Creative Worlds’, Cultural Studies 16.4 (2002): 516-31. Marginson, Simon and Considine, Mark. The Enterprise University: Power, Governance and Reinvention in Australia. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. Meikle, Graham. Future Active: Media Activism and the Internet. Sydney: Pluto Press, 2002. Ross, Andrew. No-Collar: The Humane Workplace and Its Hidden Costs. New York: Basic Books, 2003. Rossiter, Ned. ‘Processual Media Theory’, in Adrian Miles (ed.) Streaming Worlds: 5th International Digital Arts & Culture (DAC) Conference. 19-23 May. Melbourne: RMIT University, 2003, 173-184. http://hypertext.rmit.edu.au/dac/papers/Rossiter.pdf Sassen, Saskia. Losing Control? Sovereignty in an Age of Globalization. New York: Columbia University Press, 1996. Wark, McKenzie. ‘Abstraction’ and ‘Hack’, in Hugh Brown, Geert Lovink, Helen Merrick, Ned Rossiter, David Teh, Michele Willson (eds). Politics of a Digital Present: An Inventory of Australian Net Culture, Criticism and Theory. Melbourne: Fibreculture Publications, 2001, 3-7, 99-102. Wark, McKenzie. ‘The Power of Multiplicity and the Multiplicity of Power’, in Geert Lovink, Uncanny Networks: Dialogues with the Virtual Intelligentsia. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2002, 314-325. Links http://hypertext.rmit.edu.au/dac/papers/Rossiter.pdf http://www.creativeindustries.qut.com/ http://www.creativeindustries.qut.com/research/cirac/documents/THE_EVOLVING_CREATIVE_INDUSTRIES.pdf http://www.creativeindustries.qut.com/research/cirac/documents/bccreportonly.pdf http://www.culture.gov.uk/creative/mapping.html http://www.fibreculture.org/archives/index.html http://www.wired.com/wired/archive/11.06/ad_spc.html Citation reference for this article Substitute your date of access for Dn Month Year etc... MLA Style Rossiter, Ned. "Creative Industries and the Limits of Critique from " M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture< http://www.media-culture.org.au/0306/11-creativeindustries.php>. APA Style Rossiter, N. (2003, Jun 19). Creative Industries and the Limits of Critique from . M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture, 6,< http://www.media-culture.org.au/0306/11-creativeindustries.php>

IntroductionTraditionally, suburbs have been conceived as dormitory – in binary opposition to the inner-city (Powell). Supporting this stereotypical view have been gendered binaries between inner and outer city areas; densely populated vs. sprawl; gentrified terraces and apartment culture vs. new estates and first home buyers; zones of (male) production and creativity against (female) sedate, consumer territory. These binaries have for over a decade been thoroughly criticised by urban researchers, who have traced such representations and demonstrated how they are discriminatory and incorrect (see Powell; Mee; Dowling and Mee). And yet, such binaries persist in popular media commentaries and even in academic research (Gibson and Brennan-Horley). In creative city research, inner-city areas have been bestowed with the supposed correct mix of conditions that may lead to successful creative ventures. In part, this discursive positioning has been borne out of prior attempts to mapthe location of creativity in the city. Existing research on the geography of creativity in the city have relied on proxy data forms: mapping data on firms and/or employment in the creative industry sectors (e.g. Gibson, Murphy and Freestone; Markusen et al.; Watson). In doing so, the focus has rested on “winners” – i.e. headquarters of major arts and cultural institutions located in inner city/CBD locations, or by looking for concentrations of registered creative businesses. Such previous studies are useful because they give some indication of the geographical spread and significance of creative activities in cities, and help answer questions about the locational preferences of creative industries, including their gravitational pull towards each other in an agglomerative sense (Scott). However, such studies rely on (usually) one proxy data source to reveal the presence of creative activities, rather than detail how creativity is itself apparent in everyday working lives, or embedded in the spaces, networks and activities of the city. The latter, more qualitative aspects of the lived experience of creativity can only at best be inferred from proxy data such as employment numbers and firm location. In contrast, other researchers have promoted ethnographic methods (Drake; Shorthose; Felton, Collis and Graham) including interviewing, snowballing through contacts and participant observation, as means to get ‘inside’ creative industries and to better understand their embeddedness in place and networks of social relations. Such methods provide rich explanation of the internal dynamics and social logics of creative production, but having stemmed from text-based recorded interviews, they produce data without geographical co-ordinates necessary to be mapped in the manner of employment or business location data – and thus remain comparatively “aspatial”, with no georeferenced component. Furthermore, in such studies relational interactions with material spaces of home, work and city are at best conveyed in text form only – from recorded interviews – and thus cannot be aggregated easily as a mapped representation of city life. This analysis takes a different tack, by mapping responses from interviews, which were then analysed using methods more common in mapping and analysing proxy data sources. By taking a qualitative route toward data collection, this paper illustrates how suburbs can actually play a major role in creative city economies, expanding understandings of what constitutes a creative workplace and examining the resulting spatial distributions according to their function. Darwin and the Creative Tropical City Project This article draws on fieldwork carried out in Darwin, NT a small but important city in Australia’s tropical north. It is the government and administration capital of the sparsely populated Northern Territory and continues to grapple with its colonial past, a challenging climate, small population base and remoteness from southern centres. The city’s development pattern is relatively new, even in Australian terms, only dating back to the late 1970s. After wholesale destruction by Cyclone Tracy, Darwin was rebuilt displaying the hallmarks of post-1970 planning schemes: wide ring-roads and cul-de-sacs define its layout, its urban form dominated by stout single-story suburban dwellings built to withstand cyclonic activity. More recently, Darwin has experienced growth in residential tower block apartments, catering to the city’s high degree of fly-in, fly-out labour market of mining, military and public service workers. These high rise developments have been focussed unsurprisingly on coastal suburbs with ample sections of foreshore. Further adding to its peculiar layout, the geographic centre is occupied by Darwin Airport (a chief military base for Australia’s northern frontier) splitting the northern suburbs from those closer to its small CBD, itself jutting to the south on a peninsula. Lacking then in Darwin are those attributes so often heralded as the harbingers of a city’s creative success – density, walkability, tracts of ex-industrial brownfields sites ripe for reinvention as creative precincts. Darwin is a city dominated by its harsh tropical climate, decentralised and overtly dependant on private car transport. But, if one cares to look beyond the surface, Darwin is also a city punching above its weight on account of the unique possibilities enabled by transnational Asian proximity and its unique role as an outlet for indigenous creative work from across the top of the continent (Luckman, Gibson and Lea). Against this backdrop, Creative Tropical City: Mapping Darwin’s Creative Industries (CTC), a federally funded ARC project from 2006 to 2009, was envisaged to provide the evidential base needed to posit future directions for Darwin’s creative industries. City and Territory leaders had by 2004 become enchanted by the idea of ‘the creative city’ (Landry) – but it is questionable how well these policy discourses travel when applied to disparate examples such as Darwin (Luckman, Gibson and Lea). To provide an empirical grounding to creative city ideas and to ensure against policy fetishism the project was developed to map the nature, extent and change over time of Darwin’s creative industries and imagine alternate futures for the city based on a critical appraisal of the applicability of national and international creative industry policy frameworks to this remote, tropical location (Lea et al.). Toward a Typology of Darwin’s Creative Workplaces This article takes one data set gathered during the course of the CTC project, based around a participatory mapping exercise, where interviewees responded to questions about where creative industry activities took place in Darwin by drawing on paper maps. Known as mental maps, these were used to gather individual representations of place (Tuan), but in order to extend their applicability for spatial querying, responses were transferred to a Geographic Information System (GIS) for storage, collation and analysis (Matei et al.). During semi-structured interviews with 98 Darwin-based creative industry practitioners, participants were provided with a base map of Darwin displaying Statistical Local Area (SLA) boundaries and roads for mark up in response to specific questions about where creative activities occurred (for more in depth discussion of this method and its varied outputs, refer to Brennan-Horley and Gibson). The analysis discussed here only examines answers to one question: “Where do you work?” This question elicited a total of 473 work locations from 98 respondents – a fourfold increase over statistics gleaned from employment measures alone (Brennan-Horley). Such an increase resulted from participants identifying their everyday work practices which, by necessity, took place across multiple locations. When transferring the spatial location of workplaces into the GIS, each site was coded depending on whether it was cited by the interviewee as their “major” or primary place of work, or if the place being discussed played a secondary or “minor” role in their creative practice. For example, an artist’s studio was categorised as major, but other minor sites also featured in their mental maps, for example, galleries, supply locations and teaching sites. Each worksite was then assigned to one of four categories: Front, Back, Networking and Supply (Table 1). In a similar fashion to McCannell’s work on the “front and back regions” of tourist towns (597), the creative industries, predicated on the production and exchange of texts, objects and ideas also display front spaces of sorts – sites that facilitate interactions between practitioner and audiences, spaces for performance and consumption. Operating behind these front spaces, are sites where creative endeavours take place – perhaps not as so readily seen or engaged with by wider publics. For example, a rehearsal room, artist’s studio or a theatre company’s office may not be key sites of interaction between creator and audience but remain nonetheless important sites of creative work. However, a binary of Front versus Back could not encapsulate the variety of other everyday, prosaic work sites evident in the data. Participants indicated on their maps visits to the post office to send artworks, going to Bunnings to buy paint (and inadvertently networking with others), through to more fleeting spaces such as artist materials fossicked from parklands to photoshoot locations. These supply sites (each themselves positioned along a continuum of “creative” to “mundane”) were typified as supply locations: sites that act as places to gather inputs into the creative process. Finally, sites where meetings and networking took place (more often than not, these were indicated by participants as occurring away from their major work place) were assigned under a heading of networking spaces. Table 1: A typology of creative workplaces Space Definition Coded examples Front A space for consumption/exchange of creative goods, outputs or expertise. Performance space, Market, Gallery, Client Location, Shopfront, Cinema, Exhibition space, Museum, Festival space Back A site of production, practice or business management Office, Studio, Rehearsal Space, Teaching Space, Factory, Recording Studio Networking A space to meet clients or others involved in creative industries Meeting places Supply Spaces where supplies for creative work are sourced Supplier, Photoshoot Location, Story Location, Shoot Location, Storage Coding data into discrete units and formulating a typology is a reductive process, thus a number of caveats apply to this analysis. First there were numerous cases where worksites fell across multiple categories. This was particularly the case with practitioners from the music and performing arts sector whose works are created and consumed at the same location, or a clothing designer whose studio is also their shopfront. To avoid double counting, these cases were assigned to one category only, usually split in favour of the site’s main function (i.e. performance sites to Front spaces). During interviews, participants were asked to locate parts of Darwin they went to for work, rather than detail the exact role or name for each of those spaces. While most participants were forthcoming and descriptive in their responses, in two percent of cases (n=11) the role of that particular space was undefined. These spaces were placed into the “back” category. Additionally, the data was coded to refer to individual location instances aggregated to the SLA level, and does not take into account the role of specific facilities within suburbs, even though certain spaces were referred to regularly in the transcripts. It was often the case that a front space for one creative industry practitioner was a key production site for another, or operated simultaneously as a networking site for both. Future disaggregated analyses will tease out the important roles that individual venues play in Darwin’s creative economy, but are beyond this article’s scope. Finally, this analysis is only a snapshot in time, and captures some of the ephemeral and seasonal aspects of creative workplaces in Darwin that occurred around the time of interviewing. To illustrate, there are instances of photographers indicating photo shoot locations, sites that may only be used once, or may be returned to on multiple occasions. As such, if this exercise were to be carried out at another time, a different geography may result. Results A cross-tabulation of the workplace typology against major and minor locations is given in Table 2. Only 20 per cent of worksites were designated as major worksites with the remaining 80 per cent falling into the minor category. There was a noticeable split between Back and Front spaces and their Major/Minor designation. 77 per cent of back spaces were major locations, while the majority of Front spaces (92 per cent) fell into the minor category. The four most frequently occurring Minor Front spaces – client location, performance space, markets and gallery – collectively comprise one third of all workplaces for participants, pointing to their important role as interfacing spaces between creative output produced or worked on elsewhere, and wider publics/audiences. Understandably, all supply sites and networking places were categorised as minor, with each making up approximately 20 per cent of all workplaces. Table 2: creative workplaces cross tabulated against primary and secondary workplaces and divided by creative workplace typology. Major Minor Grand Total Back Office 44 1 45 Studio 22 - 22 Rehearsal Space 7 11 18 Undefined - 11 11 Teaching Space 3 1 4 Factory 1 - 1 Recording Studio 1 - 1 Leanyer Swamp 1 - 1 Back space total 79 24 103 Front Client Location - 70 70 Performance Space 2 67 69 Market 1 11 12 Gallery 3 8 11 Site - 8 8 Shopfront 1 3 4 Exhibition Space - 3 3 Cinema 2 1 3 Museum 1 1 2 Shop/Studio 1 - 1 Gallery and Office 1 - 1 NightClub 1 - 1 Festival space - 1 1 Library 1 - 1 Front Space total 14 173 187 Networking Meeting Place - 94 94 Networking space total - 94 94 Supply Supplier - 52 52 Photoshoot Location - 14 14 Story Location - 9 9 Shoot Location - 7 7 Storage - 4 4 Bank - 1 1 Printer - 1 1 Supply Space total - 88 88 Grand Total 93 379 472 The maps in Figures 1 through 4 analyse the results spatially, with individual SLA scores provided in Table 3. The maps use location quotients, representing the diversion of each SLA from the city-wide average. Values below one represent a less than average result, values greater than one reflecting higher results. The City-Inner SLA maintains the highest overall percentage of Darwin’s creative worksites (35 per cent of the total) across three categories, Front, Back and especially Networking sites (60 per cent). The concentration of key arts institutions, performance spaces and CBD office space is the primary reason for this finding. Additionally, the volume of hospitality venues in the CBD made it an amenable place to conduct meetings away from major back spaces. Figure 1: Back spaces by Statistical Local Areas Figure 2: Front spaces by Statistical Local Areas Figure 3: Networking sites, by Statistical Local Areas Figure 4: Supply sites by Statistical Local Areas However this should not deter from the fact that the majority of all worksites (65 per cent) indicated by participants actually reside in suburban locations. Numerically, the vast majority (70 per cent) of Darwin’s Front spaces are peppered across the suburbs, with agglomerations occurring in The Gardens, Fannie Bay, Nightcliff and Parap. The Gardens is the location for Darwin’s biggest weekly market (Mindl Beach night market), and a performance space for festivals and events during the city’s long dry season. Mirroring more the cultures of its neighbouring SE Asian counterparts, Darwin sustains a vibrant market culture unlike that of any other Australian capital city. As the top end region is monsoonal, six months of the year is guaranteed to be virtually rain free, allowing for outdoor activities such as markets and festivals to flourish. Markets in Darwin have a distinctly suburban geography with each of the three top suburban SLAs (as measured by Front spaces) hosting a regular market, each acting as temporary sites of networking and encounter for creative producers and audiences. Importantly, over half of the city’s production sites (Back spaces) were dispersed across the suburbs in two visible arcs, one extending from the city taking in Fannie Bay and across to Winnellie via Parap, and through the northern coastal SLAs from Coconut Grove to Brinkin (Figure 1). Interestingly, 85 per cent of all supply points were also in suburban locations. Figure 4 maps this suburban specialisation, with the light industrial suburb of Winnellie being the primary location for Darwin’s creative practitioners to source supplies. Table 3: Top ten suburbs by workplace mentions, tabulated by workplace type* SLA name Front Back Networking Supply Workplace total Inner City/CBD City - Inner 56 (29.9%) 35 (36%) 57 (60.6%) 13 (14.8%) 162 (34.3%) Inner City Total 56 (29.9%) 35 (36%) 57 (60.6%) 13 (14.8%) 162 (34.3%) Top 10 suburban The Gardens 30 (16%) 3 (2.9%) 6 (6.4%) 5 (5.7%) 44 (9.3%) Winnellie 3 (1.6%) 7 (6.8%) 1 (1.1%) 24 (27.3%) 35 (7.4%) Parap 14 (7.5%) 4 (3.9%) 6 (6.4%) 9 (10.2%) 33 (7%) Fannie Bay 17 (9.1%) 5 (4.9%) 4 (4.3%) 2 (2.3%) 28 (5.9%) Nightcliff 14 (7.5%) 7 (6.8%) 2 (2.1%) 4 (4.5%) 27 (5.7%) Stuart Park 4 (2.1%) 8 (7.8%) 4 (4.3%) 4 (4.5%) 20 (4.2%) Brinkin 1 (0.5%) 8 (7.8%) 9 (9.6%) 2 (2.3%) 20 (4.2%) Larrakeyah 5 (2.7%) 5 (4.9%) 1 (1.1%) 3 (3.4%) 14 (3%) City - Remainder 5 (2.7%) 2 (1.9%) 0 (0%) 6 (6.8%) 13 (2.8%) Coconut Grove 3 (1.6%) 4 (3.9%) 1 (1.1%) 4 (4.5%) 12 (2.5%) Rapid Creek 3 (1.6%) 6 (5.8%) 0 (0%) 0 (0%) 9 (1.9%) Suburban Total** 131 (70.1%) 67 (65%) 37 (39.4%) 75 (85%) 310 (65.7%) City-Wide Total 187 103 94 88 472 *All percentages calculated from city- wide total **Suburban total row includes all 27 suburbs, not just top tens Discussion There are two key points to take from this analysis. First, the results show the usefulness of combining in-depth qualitative research with GIS mapping methods. Interviewing creative workers about where activities in their working days (or nights) take place, rather than defaulting to incomplete industry statistics can reveal a more comprehensive view of where creative work manifests in the city. Second, the role that multiple, decentred and often suburban facilities played as sites of supply, production and consumption in Darwin’s creative economy leads theories about the spatiality of creativity in the city in new directions. These results clearly show that the cultural binaries that theorists have assumed shape perceptions of the city and its suburbs do not appear in this instance to be infusing the everyday nature of creative work in the city. What was revealed by this data is that creative work in the city creates a variegated city produced through practitioners’ ordinary daily activities. Creative workers are not necessarily resisting or reinventing ideas of what the suburbs mean, they are getting on with creative work in ways that connect suburbs and the city centre in complex – and yet sometimes quite prosaic – ways. This is not to say that the suburbs do not present challenges for the effective conduct of creative work in Darwin – transport availability and lack of facilities were consistently cited problems by practitioners – but instead what is argued here is that ways of understanding the suburbs (in popular discourse, and in response in critical cultural theory) that emanate from Sydney or Los Angeles do not provide a universal conceptual framework for a city like Darwin. By not presuming that there is a meta-discourse of suburbs and city centres that everyone in every city is bound to, this analysis captured a different geography. In conclusion, the case of Darwin displayed decentred and dispersed sites of creativity as the norm rather than the exception. Accordingly, creative city planning strategies should take into account that decentralised and varied creative work sites exist beyond the purview of flagship institutions and visible creative precincts. References Brennan-Horley, Chris. “Multiple Work Sites and City-Wide Networks: A Topological Approach to Understanding Creative Work.” Australian Geographer 41 (2010): 39-56. ———, and Chris Gibson. “Where Is Creativity in the City? Integrating Qualitative and GIS Methods.” Environment and Planning A 41 (2009): 2295–2614.Collis, Christy, Emma Felton, and Phil Graham. “Beyond the Inner City: Real and Imagined Places in Creative Place Policy and Practice.” The Information Society 26 (2010): 104-112. Dowling, Robyn, and Kathy Mee. “Tales of the City: Western Sydney at the End of the Millennium.” Sydney: The Emergence of a World City. Ed. John Connell. Melbourne: Oxford UP, 2000. Drake, Graham. “‘This Place Gives Me Space’: Place and Creativity in the Creative Industries.” Geoforum 34 (2003): 511–524. Felton, Emma, Christy Collis and Phil Graham. “Making Connections: Creative Industries Networks in Outer-Suburban Locations.” Australian Geographer 41 (2010): 57-70. Gibson, Chris, and Chris Brennan-Horley. “Goodbye Pram City: Beyond Inner/Outer Zone Binaries in Creative City Research.” Urban Policy and Research 24 (2006): 455–71. ———, Peter Murphy, and Robert Freestone. “Employment and Socio-Spatial Relations in Australia's Cultural Economy.” Australian Geographer 33 (2002): 173-189. Landry, Charles. The Creative City: A Toolkit for Urban Innovators. London: Comedia/Earthscan, 2000. Lea, Tess, Susan Luckman, Chris Gibson, Donal Fitzpatrick, Chris Brennan-Horley, Julie Willoughby-Smith, and Karen Hughes. Creative Tropical City: Mapping Darwin’s Creative Industries. Darwin: Charles Darwin University, 2009. Luckman, Sue, Chris Gibson, and Tess Lea. “Mosquitoes in the Mix: How Transferable Is Creative City Thinking?” Singapore Journal of Tropical Geography (2009): 30, 47-63. Markusen, Ann, Gregory Wassall, Douglas DeNatale, and Randy Cohen. “Defining the Creative Economy: Industry and Occupational Approaches.” Economic Development Quarterly 22 (2008): 24-45. Matei, Sorin, Sandra Ball-Rokeach, and Jack Qiu. “Fear and Misperception of Los Angeles Urban Space: A Spatial-Statistical Study of Communication-Shaped Mental Maps.” Communication Research 28 (2001): 429-463. McCannell, Dean. “Staged Authenticity: Arrangements of Social Space in Tourist Settings.” The American Journal of Sociology 79 (1973): 589-603. Mee, Kathy. “Dressing Up the Suburbs: Representations of Western Sydney.” Metropolis Now: Planning and the Urban in Contemporary Australia Eds. Katherine Gibson and Sophie Watson. Sydney: Pluto Press, 1994. 60–77. Powell, Diane. Out West: Perceptions of Sydney’s Western Suburbs. Sydney: Allen and Unwin, 1993. Shorthose, Jim. “Accounting for Independent Creativity in the New Cultural Economy.” Media International Australia 112 (2004): 150-161. Scott, Allen J. The Cultural Economy of Cities. London: Sage, 2000. Tuan, Yi-Fu. “Images and Mental Maps.” Annals of the Association of American Geographers 65 (1975): 205-213. Watson, Allan. “Global Music City: Knowledge and Geographical Proximity in London’s Recorded Music Industry.” Area 40 (2008): 12–23.

Introduction Eating is one of the most quintessential activities of human life. Because of this primacy, eating is, as food anthropologist Sidney Mintz has observed, “not merely a biological activity, but a vibrantly cultural activity as well” (48). This article posits that the current awareness of climate change in the Western world is animating such cultural activity as the Slow Food movement and is, as a result, stimulating what could be seen as an evolutionary change in popular foodways. Moreover, this paper suggests that, in line with modelling provided by the Slow Food example, an increased awareness of the connections of climate change to the social injustices of food production might better drive social change in such areas. This discussion begins by proposing that contemporary foodways—defined as “not only what is eaten by a particular group of people but also the variety of customs, beliefs and practices surrounding the production, preparation and presentation of food” (Davey 182)—are changing in the West in relation to current concerns about climate change. Such modification has a long history. Since long before the inception of modern Homo sapiens, natural climate change has been a crucial element driving hominidae evolution, both biologically and culturally in terms of social organisation and behaviours. Macroevolutionary theory suggests evolution can dramatically accelerate in response to rapid shifts in an organism’s environment, followed by slow to long periods of stasis once a new level of sustainability has been achieved (Gould and Eldredge). There is evidence that ancient climate change has also dramatically affected the rate and course of cultural evolution. Recent work suggests that the end of the last ice age drove the cultural innovation of animal and plant domestication in the Middle East (Zeder), not only due to warmer temperatures and increased rainfall, but also to a higher level of atmospheric carbon dioxide which made agriculture increasingly viable (McCorriston and Hole, cited in Zeder). Megadroughts during the Paleolithic might well have been stimulating factors behind the migration of hominid populations out of Africa and across Asia (Scholz et al). Thus, it is hardly surprising that modern anthropogenically induced global warming—in all its’ climate altering manifestations—may be driving a new wave of cultural change and even evolution in the West as we seek a sustainable homeostatic equilibrium with the environment of the future. In 1962, Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring exposed some of the threats that modern industrial agriculture poses to environmental sustainability. This prompted a public debate from which the modern environmental movement arose and, with it, an expanding awareness and attendant anxiety about the safety and nutritional quality of contemporary foods, especially those that are grown with chemical pesticides and fertilizers and/or are highly processed. This environmental consciousness led to some modification in eating habits, manifest by some embracing wholefood and vegetarian dietary regimes (or elements of them). Most recently, a widespread awareness of climate change has forced rapid change in contemporary Western foodways, while in other climate related areas of socio-political and economic significance such as energy production and usage, there is little evidence of real acceleration of change. Ongoing research into the effects of this expanding environmental consciousness continues in various disciplinary contexts such as geography (Eshel and Martin) and health (McMichael et al). In food studies, Vileisis has proposed that the 1970s environmental movement’s challenge to the polluting practices of industrial agri-food production, concurrent with the women’s movement (asserting women’s right to know about everything, including food production), has led to both cooks and eaters becoming increasingly knowledgeable about the links between agricultural production and consumer and environmental health, as well as the various social justice issues involved. As a direct result of such awareness, alternatives to the industrialised, global food system are now emerging (Kloppenberg et al.). The Slow Food (R)evolution The tenets of the Slow Food movement, now some two decades old, are today synergetic with the growing consternation about climate change. In 1983, Carlo Petrini formed the Italian non-profit food and wine association Arcigola and, in 1986, founded Slow Food as a response to the opening of a McDonalds in Rome. From these humble beginnings, which were then unashamedly positing a return to the food systems of the past, Slow Food has grown into a global organisation that has much more future focused objectives animating its challenges to the socio-cultural and environmental costs of industrial food. Slow Food does have some elements that could be classed as reactionary and, therefore, the opposite of evolutionary. In response to the increasing homogenisation of culinary habits around the world, for instance, Slow Food’s Foundation for Biodiversity has established the Ark of Taste, which expands upon the idea of a seed bank to preserve not only varieties of food but also local and artisanal culinary traditions. In this, the Ark aims to save foods and food products “threatened by industrial standardization, hygiene laws, the regulations of large-scale distribution and environmental damage” (SFFB). Slow Food International’s overarching goals and activities, however, extend far beyond the preservation of past foodways, extending to the sponsoring of events and activities that are attempting to create new cuisine narratives for contemporary consumers who have an appetite for such innovation. Such events as the Salone del Gusto (Salon of Taste) and Terra Madre (Mother Earth) held in Turin every two years, for example, while celebrating culinary traditions, also focus on contemporary artisanal foods and sustainable food production processes that incorporate the most current of agricultural knowledge and new technologies into this production. Attendees at these events are also driven by both an interest in tradition, and their own very current concerns with health, personal satisfaction and environmental sustainability, to change their consumer behavior through an expanded self-awareness of the consequences of their individual lifestyle choices. Such events have, in turn, inspired such events in other locations, moving Slow Food from local to global relevance, and affecting the intellectual evolution of foodway cultures far beyond its headquarters in Bra in Northern Italy. This includes in the developing world, where millions of farmers continue to follow many traditional agricultural practices by necessity. Slow Food Movement’s forward-looking values are codified in the International Commission on the Future of Food and Agriculture 2006 publication, Manifesto on the Future of Food. This calls for changes to the World Trade Organisation’s rules that promote the globalisation of agri-food production as a direct response to the “climate change [which] threatens to undermine the entire natural basis of ecologically benign agriculture and food preparation, bringing the likelihood of catastrophic outcomes in the near future” (ICFFA 8). It does not call, however, for a complete return to past methods. To further such foodway awareness and evolution, Petrini founded the University of Gastronomic Sciences at Slow Food’s headquarters in 2004. The university offers programs that are analogous with the Slow Food’s overall aim of forging sustainable partnerships between the best of old and new practice: to, in the organisation’s own words, “maintain an organic relationship between gastronomy and agricultural science” (UNISG). In 2004, Slow Food had over sixty thousand members in forty-five countries (Paxson 15), with major events now held each year in many of these countries and membership continuing to grow apace. One of the frequently cited successes of the Slow Food movement is in relation to the tomato. Until recently, supermarkets stocked only a few mass-produced hybrids. These cultivars were bred for their disease resistance, ease of handling, tolerance to artificial ripening techniques, and display consistency, rather than any culinary values such as taste, aroma, texture or variety. In contrast, the vine ripened, ‘farmer’s market’ tomato has become the symbol of an “eco-gastronomically” sustainable, local and humanistic system of food production (Jordan) which melds the best of the past practice with the most up-to-date knowledge regarding such farming matters as water conservation. Although the term ‘heirloom’ is widely used in relation to these tomatoes, there is a distinctively contemporary edge to the way they are produced and consumed (Jordan), and they are, along with other organic and local produce, increasingly available in even the largest supermarket chains. Instead of a wholesale embrace of the past, it is the connection to, and the maintenance of that connection with, the processes of production and, hence, to the environment as a whole, which is the animating premise of the Slow Food movement. ‘Slow’ thus creates a gestalt in which individuals integrate their lifestyles with all levels of the food production cycle and, hence to the environment and, importantly, the inherently related social justice issues. ‘Slow’ approaches emphasise how the accelerated pace of contemporary life has weakened these connections, while offering a path to the restoration of a sense of connectivity to the full cycle of life and its relation to place, nature and climate. In this, the Slow path demands that every consumer takes responsibility for all components of his/her existence—a responsibility that includes becoming cognisant of the full story behind each of the products that are consumed in that life. The Slow movement is not, however, a regime of abstention or self-denial. Instead, the changes in lifestyle necessary to support responsible sustainability, and the sensual and aesthetic pleasure inherent in such a lifestyle, exist in a mutually reinforcing relationship (Pietrykowski 2004). This positive feedback loop enhances the potential for promoting real and long-term evolution in social and cultural behaviour. Indeed, the Slow zeitgeist now informs many areas of contemporary culture, with Slow Travel, Homes, Design, Management, Leadership and Education, and even Slow Email, Exercise, Shopping and Sex attracting adherents. Mainstreaming Concern with Ethical Food Production The role of the media in “forming our consciousness—what we think, how we think, and what we think about” (Cunningham and Turner 12)—is self-evident. It is, therefore, revealing in relation to the above outlined changes that even the most functional cookbooks and cookery magazines (those dedicated to practical information such as recipes and instructional technique) in Western countries such as the USA, UK and Australian are increasingly reflecting and promoting an awareness of ethical food production as part of this cultural change in food habits. While such texts have largely been considered as useful but socio-politically relatively banal publications, they are beginning to be recognised as a valid source of historical and cultural information (Nussel). Cookbooks and cookery magazines commonly include discussion of a surprising range of issues around food production and consumption including sustainable and ethical agricultural methods, biodiversity, genetic modification and food miles. In this context, they indicate how rapidly the recent evolution of foodways has been absorbed into mainstream practice. Much of such food related media content is, at the same time, closely identified with celebrity mass marketing and embodied in the television chef with his or her range of branded products including their syndicated articles and cookbooks. This commercial symbiosis makes each such cuisine-related article in a food or women’s magazine or cookbook, in essence, an advertorial for a celebrity chef and their named products. Yet, at the same time, a number of these mass media food celebrities are raising public discussion that is leading to consequent action around important issues linked to climate change, social justice and the environment. An example is Jamie Oliver’s efforts to influence public behaviour and government policy, a number of which have gained considerable traction. Oliver’s 2004 exposure of the poor quality of school lunches in Britain (see Jamie’s School Dinners), for instance, caused public outrage and pressured the British government to commit considerable extra funding to these programs. A recent study by Essex University has, moreover, found that the academic performance of 11-year-old pupils eating Oliver’s meals improved, while absenteeism fell by 15 per cent (Khan). Oliver’s exposé of the conditions of battery raised hens in 2007 and 2008 (see Fowl Dinners) resulted in increased sales of free-range poultry, decreased sales of factory-farmed chickens across the UK, and complaints that free-range chicken sales were limited by supply. Oliver encouraged viewers to lobby their local councils, and as a result, a number banned battery hen eggs from schools, care homes, town halls and workplace cafeterias (see, for example, LDP). The popular penetration of these ideas needs to be understood in a historical context where industrialised poultry farming has been an issue in Britain since at least 1848 when it was one of the contributing factors to the establishment of the RSPCA (Freeman). A century after Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle (published in 1906) exposed the realities of the slaughterhouse, and several decades since Peter Singer’s landmark Animal Liberation (1975) and Tom Regan’s The Case for Animal Rights (1983) posited the immorality of the mistreatment of animals in food production, it could be suggested that Al Gore’s film An Inconvenient Truth (released in 2006) added considerably to the recent concern regarding the ethics of industrial agriculture. Consciousness-raising bestselling books such as Jim Mason and Peter Singer’s The Ethics of What We Eat and Michael Pollan’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma (both published in 2006), do indeed ‘close the loop’ in this way in their discussions, by concluding that intensive food production methods used since the 1950s are not only inhumane and damage public health, but are also damaging an environment under pressure from climate change. In comparison, the use of forced labour and human trafficking in food production has attracted far less mainstream media, celebrity or public attention. It could be posited that this is, in part, because no direct relationship to the environment and climate change and, therefore, direct link to our own existence in the West, has been popularised. Kevin Bales, who has been described as a modern abolitionist, estimates that there are currently more than 27 million people living in conditions of slavery and exploitation against their wills—twice as many as during the 350-year long trans-Atlantic slave trade. Bales also chillingly reveals that, worldwide, the number of slaves is increasing, with contemporary individuals so inexpensive to purchase in relation to the value of their production that they are disposable once the slaveholder has used them. Alongside sex slavery, many other prevalent examples of contemporary slavery are concerned with food production (Weissbrodt et al; Miers). Bales and Soodalter, for example, describe how across Asia and Africa, adults and children are enslaved to catch and process fish and shellfish for both human consumption and cat food. Other campaigners have similarly exposed how the cocoa in chocolate is largely produced by child slave labour on the Ivory Coast (Chalke; Off), and how considerable amounts of exported sugar, cereals and other crops are slave-produced in certain countries. In 2003, some 32 per cent of US shoppers identified themselves as LOHAS “lifestyles of health and sustainability” consumers, who were, they said, willing to spend more for products that reflected not only ecological, but also social justice responsibility (McLaughlin). Research also confirms that “the pursuit of social objectives … can in fact furnish an organization with the competitive resources to develop effective marketing strategies”, with Doherty and Meehan showing how “social and ethical credibility” are now viable bases of differentiation and competitive positioning in mainstream consumer markets (311, 303). In line with this recognition, Fair Trade Certified goods are now available in British, European, US and, to a lesser extent, Australian supermarkets, and a number of global chains including Dunkin’ Donuts, McDonalds, Starbucks and Virgin airlines utilise Fair Trade coffee and teas in all, or parts of, their operations. Fair Trade Certification indicates that farmers receive a higher than commodity price for their products, workers have the right to organise, men and women receive equal wages, and no child labour is utilised in the production process (McLaughlin). Yet, despite some Western consumers reporting such issues having an impact upon their purchasing decisions, social justice has not become a significant issue of concern for most. The popular cookery publications discussed above devote little space to Fair Trade product marketing, much of which is confined to supermarket-produced adverzines promoting the Fair Trade products they stock, and international celebrity chefs have yet to focus attention on this issue. In Australia, discussion of contemporary slavery in the press is sparse, having surfaced in 2000-2001, prompted by UNICEF campaigns against child labour, and in 2007 and 2008 with the visit of a series of high profile anti-slavery campaigners (including Bales) to the region. The public awareness of food produced by forced labour and the troubling issue of human enslavement in general is still far below the level that climate change and ecological issues have achieved thus far in driving foodway evolution. This may change, however, if a ‘Slow’-inflected connection can be made between Western lifestyles and the plight of peoples hidden from our daily existence, but contributing daily to them. Concluding Remarks At this time of accelerating techno-cultural evolution, due in part to the pressures of climate change, it is the creative potential that human conscious awareness brings to bear on these challenges that is most valuable. Today, as in the caves at Lascaux, humanity is evolving new images and narratives to provide rational solutions to emergent challenges. As an example of this, new foodways and ways of thinking about them are beginning to evolve in response to the perceived problems of climate change. The current conscious transformation of food habits by some in the West might be, therefore, in James Lovelock’s terms, a moment of “revolutionary punctuation” (178), whereby rapid cultural adaption is being induced by the growing public awareness of impending crisis. It remains to be seen whether other urgent human problems can be similarly and creatively embraced, and whether this trend can spread to offer global solutions to them. References An Inconvenient Truth. 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Beuning, Jeanette Gomez, and James Pierson. “East African Megadroughts between 135 and 75 Thousand Years Ago and Bearing on Early-modern Human Origins.” PNAS: Proceedings of the National Academy of the Sciences of the United States of America 104.42 (16 Oct. 2007): 16416–21. Sinclair, Upton. The Jungle. New York: Doubleday, Jabber & Company, 1906. Singer, Peter. Animal Liberation. New York: HarperCollins, 1975. (SFFB) Slow Food Foundation for Biodiversity. “Ark of Taste.” 2009. 24 Aug. 2009 < http://www.fondazioneslowfood.it/eng/arca/lista.lasso >. (UNISG) University of Gastronomic Sciences. “Who We Are.” 2009. 24 Aug. 2009 < http://www.unisg.it/eng/chisiamo.php >. Vileisis, Ann. Kitchen Literacy: How We Lost Knowledge of Where Food Comes From and Why We Need to Get It Back. Washington: Island Press/Shearwater Books, 2008. Weissbrodt, David, and Anti-Slavery International. Abolishing Slavery and its Contemporary Forms. 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