Artykuły w czasopismach na temat „Inter-subjective ethics”

Phenomenologists have long viewed love as a central form of inter-subjective engagement. I show here that it is also of concern to phenomenological ethics. After establishing the relation of phenomenology to ethics, I show that both classical and existential phenomenology view love as an act of valuing the loved one. I argue that a second act of valuing is latent in phenomenology: valuing the relationship. These values are evident in the phenomenological distinction between true love, which generates a “perspective in difference,” and false love, which seeks union with the beloved manifesting in devotion and/or jealousy. Because culturally dominant heteronormative scripts incline individuals toward false love, lovers should create their own pacts for ethical relationships. I consider consensually non-monogamous relationships as an example.

The author sets a goal to show the specificity of the formulation of universal prescriptive judgments about a virtuous act (moral norms) in the framework of Aristotelian ethical doctrine. To achieve this goal, Aristotle’s philosophy concept of practical wisdom (phronesis) is analyzed. It shows a necessity to distinguish the use of practical wisdom in a personal experience of the act and for forming the inter-subjective practical knowledge (episteme) about making of a virtuous act. The specificity of ethics as practical knowledge and its difference from individual moral experience are defined by means of the distinction of the use of practical wisdom. It also shows the limitations of practical syllogism as the main rational mechanism for the formation of inter-subjective practical knowledge. Additionally, the universal prescriptive judgments are divided into informative and functional: the former reveals the content of the action, the latter – its structure, that is, the former defines what a person must do, the latter defines what an action should be to comply with the right purpose, consequently, the right content. At the same time, the right content is recognized only in individual experience and can not be expressed universally, without losing its practical value. The author concludes that the formulation of informative universal prescriptive judgments is impossible within the framework of Aristotelian ethical doctrine. It is impeded by the unsolvable problem of the correlation between the general and the particular, the transition from descriptive judgments to prescriptive judgments. However, it is possible to formulate functional universal prescriptive judgments. They also constitute the methodological basis for criticism of the accepted in society moral norms, which are based on the past positive experience of actions.

The article seeks to generate a more nuanced version of environmental ethics than the current positivistic approach taken towards the ecological crisis by referring to the sense of ecology as evident in the practice and writings of Richard Neutra. Despite the whiteness of his architecture, Neutra's architecture was ecological in a profound way in which the ethics of the inter-personal and related dwelling activities of inhabitants are as important as measuring energy performance. For him, more fundamental than man's relationship with nature or natural resources was the inter-personal sharing of ‘we’, in which scarcity itself is the medium of a proportionate joining. Put differently, the reciprocity between the natural and the inter-personal, in which the former reinforces the latter, was the key to an ecological setting.In the process of underpinning Neutra's sense of the reciprocity between the natural and the inter-personal, as well as the shared inter-personal communication in an atmosphere, this article draws ideas from Japanese intellectual tradition such as Tetsuro Watsuji&s notion of fudo, or climate, and its correlate inter-personal ethics, and Kitaro Nishida's account of a trans-subjective mode of communication of the ‘we’. Referring to this Japanese tradition in which Neutra was deeply interested, the article interprets Neutra's architecture based not upon the ego-oriented mode of the ‘I’ but upon the ego-less mode of ‘ek-sistere’ that reinstates the condition of the human being as a pre-reflective corporeal being, or what I would like to call a ‘common subjectivity’ to be articulated into different, yet conjoined, ‘I’s to form a joint measure. In this fashion, the article demonstrates how one's relationship with the natural necessarily involves the dimension of the inter-personal, while illuminating the goal of Neutra's practice: securing a place for the inter-personal through the coordination of natural forces.

The Habermas-Gadamer debate focused on the task and scope of hermeneutics has constituted on the claim of that understanding and interpretation is a linguistic inter-subjective interaction not an intellectual subjective activity. Hermeneutical reflection, rose from this interaction, has a critical task that illuminates pre-conditions of subject in the process of understanding and interpretation. The emphasis of this study is on the ethical and political effects of this task, but not on the debate of whether this critical task has a linguistic restriction. Even though Gadamer, Habermas and Ricoeur have properly remarked that the critical task of hermeneutical reflection founded on self-consciousness is practical, none of them had improved theories of ethics and politics referring this practical task. In this study, I will discuss the place and the importance of the hermeneutical reflection in the discourse ethics of Apel, in the pragmatic relativism of Rorty, and in Taylor’s the ethics of authenticity and the politics of recognition. Those theories found on the task of hermeneutical reflection, which exalts individuality, therefore they are liberal theories. Exposing hermeneutical effects on those theories that are a result of “the linguistic turn” will indicate the practical value of hermeneutics. In addition, I will mention that those liberal theories can involve some dangers and aims to justify asking whether a hermeneutical theory of ethics and politics is necessarily "liberal". Extended English abstract is in the end of PDF (TURKISH) file. ÖzetHermeneutik refleksiyonun işlevi ve kapsamına odaklanan Gadamer-Habermas tartışması, anlam ve yorumun, öznenin bir zihinsel bir etkinliği değil de özneler arası dilsel bir etkileşim olduğu kabulü üzerinden yürütülmektedir. Anlama ve yorum sürecinde öznelerarası etkileşimle ortaya çıkan hermeneutik refleksiyonun, öznenin kendi ön-koşullarını aydınlatan eleştirel bir işlevi vardır. Bu çalışmanın odak noktası, bu işlevin dilsel sınırlar içinde olup olmadığı tartışması değil, bu işlevin etik ve politik kuramlardaki etkisidir. Gadamer, Habermas ve Ricoeur, hermeneutik refleksiyonun öz-bilinci kuran eleştirel işlevinin pratik olduğunu belirtmiş olsalar da, bu pratik işlev üzerinden etik ve politik bir kuram geliştirmemişlerdir. İşte bu çalışma, Apel’in söylem etiğinde; Rorty’nin pragmatik rölativizminde, Taylor’un sahicilik etiği ve tanınma politikasında, hermeneutik refleksiyonun nasıl bir yere sahip olduğunu göstermek amacındadır. Bu etik ve politik kuramlar, hermeneutik refleksiyonun bireyselliği yükselten işlevine dayandığından, liberal kuramlardır. “Dile dönüş” olgusunun sonucu olan bu kuramlardaki hermeneutik etkilerin açığa çıkarılması, hermeneutiğin pratik değerini gösterecektir. Ayrıca liberal etik ve politik kuramların içerebileceği tehlikelere de değinmek isteyen bu çalışma, hermeneutik temelli etik ve politik bir kuram liberal olmak zorunda mıdır sorusunun da haklılığın göstermek amacındadır.

AbstractThis is an essay in seeing the heart of humanity, as it is re-presented in a Christian icon (Kardiotissa) and a Buddhist cave (Vishvakarma). Working through a poetics of image and word and the dialectic of revelation and concealment intrinsic to representation, this essay concentrates on wording the visible confluence of subjective and objective domains, as they appear in art and express human being. Interiority, its formlessness and its incorporation in form, is seen to reorient the religious by bearing witness to a religiosity at the core of the human, a faith rendered and remembered in aesthetic form. Representation as word, concept, and phenomenon is both the subject and medium of this inquiry, which, by plumbing the possibility of the inter-religious imagination, seeks to unearth the ethics, and thus extend the capacities, of representation itself. Significant notes in eastern and western philosophical aesthetics provide a comparative platform for a process of seeing the icon and the cave as works of art that formally illumine an originary site of the religious and the aesthetic in the birth of the heart.

Good faith (bona fides) is presented in the Civil Code of the Russian Federation as a general principle and presumption. In resolving corporate disputes, the courts are governed by general principles of good faith. However, corporate relations have a specificity due to, inter alia, the variety of corporate forms. It can be assumed that the application of good faith provisions should also vary taking into account the characteristics of corporate patterns, the types and forms of corporate relations, subjective internal corporate circumstances. Common law countries have developed a system of good faith elements and special tests to apply the required requirement of good faith according to the context. A special place is given to fiduciary relations as a product of bona fides. The author has carried out a comparative analysis of the provisions of the Plenums of the Supreme Court of the Russian Federation, the Supreme Court of the Russian Federation and the law enforcement practice of Germany, the USA, Great Britain and Canada on the issues of good faith in the consideration of corporate disputes. Special attention is paid to the interrelation between corporate ethics and law. Examining a number of key cases from the law-enforcement practice of the courts of the Anglo-American system of law, the author substantiates the possibility of applying special tests, namely, objective and subjective good faith tests, to regulate matters related to the application of the rules of good faith from the Civil Code and special laws in dealing with corporate disputes. Special attention is paid to the role of courts and permissible discretion in the formation of standards of enforcement of blanket norms and general principles of law in corporate relations.

Across significant moments in my training in performative autoethnography in the United States, I share through performative writing my ideas, experiences, and reflections between the different moments of qualitative research, among which I am in a process of transition that stresses my biography, over cultures and paradigms. In this process, a feminine voice emerges with force silenced by data and traditions. The process makes visible doubts and contradictions of my own, mixed with subjective reflections on the self-construction of the professional identity of becoming a researcher in the academy. The importance of “raising the voice” in a globalized neoliberal context, characterized by capitalism in scientific production and the power that has an impact on research and methods is revealed. This highway traveled serves to stimulate reflection and debate among the academic community of qualitative researchers. Everyday practices are not insensitive to the people who make up academic institutions and spaces, nor do such practices have no impact on the lives of the researchers. I also write to annoy and disturb, to mobilize and question these practices and the relationships between researchers and research, confronting their inter-and-intra spaces with the neoliberal times that we live in the academy. This allows awareness and position with coherence and ethics before qualitative research as responsible social commitment and moral act.

IntroductionCombined with patient history and physical examination, a negative D-dimer can safely rule-out pulmonary embolism (PE). However, the D-dimer test is frequently false positive, leading to many (with hindsight) ‘unneeded’ referrals to secondary care. Recently, the novel YEARS algorithm, incorporating flexible D-dimer thresholds depending on pretest risk, was developed and validated, showing its ability to safely exclude PE in the hospital environment. Importantly, this was accompanied with 14% fewer computed tomographic pulmonary angiography than the standard, fixed D-dimer threshold. Although promising, in primary care this algorithm has not been validated yet.Methods and analysisThe PECAN (DiagnosingPulmonaryEmbolism in the context ofCommonAlternative diagNoses in primary care) study is a prospective diagnostic study performed in Dutch primary care. Included patients with suspected acute PE will be managed by their general practitioner according to the YEARS diagnostic algorithm and followed up in primary care for 3 months to establish the final diagnosis. To study the impact of the use of the YEARS algorithm, the primary endpoints are the safety and efficiency of the YEARS algorithm in primary care. Safety is defined as the proportion of false-negative test results in those not referred. Efficiency denotes the proportion of patients classified in this non-referred category. Additionally, we quantify whether C reactive protein measurement has added diagnostic value to the YEARS algorithm, using multivariable logistic and polytomous regression modelling. Furthermore, we will investigate which factors contribute to the subjective YEARS item ‘PE most likely diagnosis’.Ethics and disseminationThe study protocol was approved by the Medical Ethical Committee Utrecht, the Netherlands. Patients eligible for inclusion will be asked for their consent. Results will be disseminated by publication in peer-reviewed journals and presented at (inter)national meetings and congresses.Trial registrationNTR 7431.

This review considers Chandan Bose’s ethnographic study into arts and crafts practices in Telangana, India. Merits of the book include Bose’s nuanced interrogation of ethical complexities in and around ethnographic work, a centring of artisans’ voices through direct quotes, and an emphasis on knowledge as something crucially formed in and through subjective inter-relational connections. Bose draws links between practices of ethnography, art and storytelling. Broaching the book as a collaboration with rather than a study of the artisan community, Bose offers ways of re-seeing research, knowledge, and cultural engagement that will hold relevance across a wide range of fields and practices in and beyond contemporary academies.

This paper presents a particular aspect of ‘being online’: the embodied, lived experience of interacting with digital devices and computer screens, involving seeking and giving help to learn and teach skills and abilities that are often taken for granted in our “wired world”. The article includes analysis and reflection on a phenomenological study involving international students who arrived at their Canadian post-secondary institutions with limited or no background using computers and the Internet. This exploration leads to an enriched perspective on technology support and training. Meaningful, hands-on, task-oriented support is revealed as an ethical inter-subjective lived relation, experienced as reciprocity in an intercultural community of student life.

The pain clinician is confronted with the formidable task of objectifying the subjective phenomenon of pain so as to determine the right treatments for both the pain syndrome and the patient in whom the pathology is expressed. However, the experience of pain — and its expression — remains enigmatic. Can currently available evaluative tools, questionnaires, and scales actually provide adequately objective information about the experiential dimensions of pain? Can, or will, current and future iterations of biotechnology — whether used singularly or in combination (with other technologies as well as observational-behavioral methods) — afford objective validation of pain? And what of the clinical, ethical, legal and social issues that arise in and from the use — and potential misuse — of these approaches? Subsequent trajectories of clinical care depend upon the findings gained through the use of these techniques and their inappropriate employment – or misinterpretation of the results they provide — can lead to misdiagnoses and incorrect treatment. This essay is the first of a two-part series that explicates how the intellectual tasks of knowing about pain and the assessment of its experience and expression in the pain patient are constituent to the moral responsibility of pain medicine. Herein, we discuss the problem of pain and its expression, and those methods, techniques, and technologies available to bridge the gap between subjective experience and objective evaluation. We address how these assessment approaches are fundamental to apprehend both pain as an objective, neurological event, and its impact upon the subjective experience, existence, and expectations of the person in pain. In this way, we argue that the right use of technology — together with inter-subjectivity, compassion, and insight — can sustain the good of pain care as both a therapeutic and moral enterprise. Key words: pain, assessment, neurotechnology, biotechnology, neuroethics, medicine

The purpose of this research was to prove that solving a legal problem needed an interdisciplinary approach, more than merely pure law. It relates to the working culture of law, inter-subjective understanding and reform willingness. The research was done based on descriptive and qualitative method. It included content analyses of the use and misuse concept of regulation, its effect in actual practice and cultural barrier of law enforcement. The finding of this research proved that law enforcement was not like copying a paper. It related closely to the tradition, usage and custom of people. Transforming society only by introducing new regulation and state institution without cultural restoration ended in failure. Thus, the conclusion was the establishment of Judicial Commission in Indonesia, aimed at transforming the Supreme Court, to be more independent, impartial and accountable by supervising the ethical behaviour of the judge. But Judicial Commission is hampered by many difficulties legally and institutionally. Judicial Commission could not work and achieve its goal to bring about Supreme Court more transparent, not only because of legal obstacles but also cultural impunity.

This paper provides evidence of the importance and necessity of students moral education. The authors show that moral education should be based on the idea that is born in inter-transitions of thought (subjective) and conceivable (objective). It is revealed that the idea points to a lack of life, consisting in the fact that the notions of good, boon, humanity dont correspond in a true way to the reality in which a person lives and thinks about life. The authors show that all the previous development of ethical and pedagogical thinking contains the proof of the idea of good. The authors reveal that the idea as a system-forming link of the transition from values for oneself to the value for another is the pinnacle in the hierarchy of norms. The paper contains an idea of students moral education - life on the basis of morality golden rule which as value it is a link of the transition from values for oneself to the value for another, as the norm it normalizes mutual relations and human interactions with the world and people. The authors also show the difference between value and norm: value is an internal regulator of activity and behavior, norm is an external regulator. The authors reveal that the realization of morality golden rule, which contains the required, proper and prescriptive, by the teacher contributes to the ordering of the meanings of life that become its reference points and to the normalization of student interaction with the world and with people. The authors show that in the process of interaction in the context of morality golden rule, a teacher, provoking counter activity of the student in mastering his/her values, stimulates their implementation by the schoolchild in such a way that other people as well as himself/herself are guided by morality golden rule.

Currently, critically reflective social work practice is influenced by culturally relativizing themes from postmodern thought. This view cautions practitioners to be aware of the role that dominant cultural narratives play in subjugating the identities of their clients as well as their own lives and professional practice. As such, postmodern theory risks denying the emancipatory potential of Christian thought for inspiring subjective, inter-personal and social forms of transformative change. This paper will argue that the discourse ethics of Jurgen Habermas represent communicative ideals which allow for the non-coercive application of potentially transformative Christian beliefs to critical social work practice.

This paper proposes that the positionality of Pākehā researchers wishing to learn from Māori, can be reimagined as an atmospheric inter-subjective space within which conversations can happen across difference and between commonalities. I outline my own reckoning as a Pākehā attempting to enter this field as a part of my MA research on Māori women’s experiences of weight loss surgery. I argue that a form of differential distancing, while holding onto an ethic of care, enables a form of academic inquiry that is less stymied by the politics of permission. This paper also proposes that ethical representation can be bolstered by staying close to the logics for living of our participants and conceptualising their narratives through ‘embodied becoming’. I argue that this multi-faceted approach enables ethnography which retrieves nuance and releases participants, to a degree, from discourses that primarily frame individuals as victims of the state.

This article investigates ways in which theatre and performance have the potential to revisit and re-interpret ideological narratives. Drawing on the politics of transnational performance-making processes, it examines how multilingual theatre productions can contribute to the production of subjective and collective identities, and help articulate ideas and perceptions of belonging. With reference to 20/20 – a piece of documentary-style theatre about a major inter-ethnic conflict that took place in 1990 in a bilingual city in Romania – this case study maps out arguments for utilizing multilingualism on stage, and engages with the ethics of representation in the process of multilingual transfer. Billed as ‘multi-ethnic and multilingual’, the production embraces an agenda that goes beyond the examination of an isolated local conflict and makes the point that both theatre-making and theatre-going are experiences that strongly interact with narratives of cultural identity and hybridization. Thus, the representation of belonging or not belonging is tied in with questions of agency, and the right of individuals to affirm and indeed interrogate their hereditary links to a community.

AbstractThis article explores the concept of human dignity in the work of French philosopher Gabriel Marcel. It demonstrates how this lesser-known aspect of his philosophical thinking is organic to his work and draws attention to the current relevance of the way he resolves the question of human dignity for philosophy and ethics. The first part of the article looks at the basic ideas behind Marcel’s understanding of man as a being on the road, as unfinished, temporal, in the process of becoming, and creatively open on the road of transcendence to the mystery of being. This is followed by an explanation of Marcel’s criticism of the traditional understanding of human dignity (on both the social and ontological levels), which has degenerated into the formalism. Criticizing this rationalist (Kantian) conception of dignity as a particular kind of power, Gabriel Marcel produces an original conception of existential dignity as weakness—the fragile vulnerable finitude of the human individual. But it is an active weakness/finitude that lies in the ability of the individual to creatively resist attempts to humiliate him and in his effort to recognize his unique human values. Part of this finitude, on the inter-subjective level, is an encounter with the neighbour in love, which is a service to others in defence of man’s weakness. The author draws attention to the fact that Marcel’s conception of human dignity has been partially accepted in philosophy, ethics and bioethics.

Abstract Background The craniocervical flexion test (CCFT) is recommended when examining patients with neck pain related conditions and as a deep cervical retraining exercise option. During the execution of the CCFT the examiner should visually assess that the amount of craniocervical flexion range of motion (ROM) progressively increases. However, this task is very subjective. The use of inertial wearable sensors may be a user-friendly option to measure and objectively monitor the ROM. The objectives of our study were (1) to measure craniocervical flexion range of motion (ROM) associated with each stage of the CCFT using a wearable inertial sensor and to determine the reliability of the measurements and (2) to determine craniocervical flexion ROM targets associated with each stage of the CCFT to standardize their use for assessment and training of the deep cervical flexor (DCF) muscles. Methods Adults from a university community able to successfully perform the CCFT participated in this study. Two independent examiners evaluated the CCFT in two separate sessions. During the CCFT, a small wireless inertial sensor was adhered to the centre of the forehead to provide real-time monitoring and to record craniocervical flexion ROM. The intra- and inter-rater reliability of the assessment of craniocervical ROM was calculated. This study was approved by the Research Ethics Committee of CEU San Pablo University (236/17/08). Results Fifty-six participants (18 males, 23 females; mean [SD] age, 21.8 [3.45] years) were included in the study and successfully completed the study protocol. All interclass correlation coefficient (ICC) values indicated good or excellent reliability of the assessment of craniocervical ROM using a wearable inertial sensor. There was high variability between subjects on the amount of craniocervical ROM necessary to achieve each stage of the CCFT. Conclusions The use of inertial sensors is a reliable method to measure the craniocervical flexion ROM associated with the CCFT. The great variability in the ROM limits the possibility to standardize a set of targets of craniocervical flexion ROM equivalent to each of the pressure targets of the pressure biofeedback unit.

La legge di Hume e la critica alla fallacia naturalistica di Moore sono state usate come base per il non-cognitivismo etico, per affermare che i valori non si possono conoscere razionalmente, ma solo intuirli o lasciarli alla sfera soggettiva delle emozioni. Sottesa alla dicotomia fatti/valori della legge di Hume, c’è una concezione riduttiva della realtà, considerata solo come l’insieme di fatti, quantificabili, misurabili, anzi verificabili (principio di verificazione neopositivista). Collegata alla dicotomia fatti/valori, si è imposta – sempre in ambito analitico – la dicotomia analitico/sintetico: le proposizioni analitiche (logiche) non hanno bisogno di verifica (sono sempre vere), mentre le proposizioni sintetiche sono sottoposte alla verifica dell’esperienza e di esse si può affermare il vero o il falso. Da questo rigido schema fuoriescono le proposizioni etiche che, quindi, non possono essere né vere né false. Secondo H. Putnam, le stesse scoperte scientifiche, che hanno ipotizzato aspetti del reale non direttamente verificabili, hanno causato sia la fine della dicotomia analitico/sintetico, sia quella della dicotoma fatto/valore, perché, come ha evidenziato Quine, non si può fare scienza senza valori epistemici. In ambito analitico le posizioni neo-positiviste sono state superate con il pragmatismo, per il quale non c’è separazione tra fatti e valori e si può parlare di oggettività in etica, ma è un’oggettività debole, costruita in modo intersoggettivo, con il rischio di scambiare il buono con l’utile. Il dogma della dicotomia fatti/valori è stato superato, ma non quello del rifiuto della metafisica (ad eccezione del cosiddetto “tomismo analitico”). La bioetica, avendo come ambito le problematiche della vita sottoposta alle tecnoscienze, può aiutare non solo ad andare oltre la dicotomia fatti/valori, ma a recuperare un’unità di senso in cui la ragione esistenziale non si oppone a quella metafisica: per cogliere la complessità della vita bisogna avere gli strumenti per vedere la sua forma, il suo finalismo. ---------- Hume’s Law and Moore’s critique of the naturalistic fallacy were used as the basis for a non-cognitive ethic in order to affirm that values cannot be known rationally, but only intuitively or through the subjective sphere of the emotions. Behind the facts/values dichotomy of Hume’s Law there is a reductive conception of reality, which is considered solely as a collection of quantifiable, measurable and verifiable facts (the neo-positive principle of verification). On top of the facts/values dichotomy, – in any analytic context – there is also the analytic/synthetic dichotomy: analytic propositions (logical) have no need of verification (they are always true), while synthetic propositions are subject to the verification of experience and thus can be said to be true or false. From this rigid scheme emerged the ethical propositions that there cannot be either truth nor falsehood. According to H. Putnam, the same scientific discoveries, which have given rise to hypotheses about aspects of reality which are not directly verifiable, have led to the end of both the analytic/synthetic dichotomy and the facts/values dichotomy, since, as Quine has shown, one cannot undertake research without epistemological values. In the analytic field, the neo-positive positions have been superseded by pragmatism, in which there is no separation between facts and values and one cannot speak of objectivity in ethics, but only of a weak, inter-subjective objectivity, which carries with it the risk of confusing the “good” with the “useful”. The dogma of the facts/values dichotomy has been superseded, but not that of the denial of metaphysics (with the exception of so-called “analytic Thomism”). Bioethics, which is concerned with life issues that are subject to technology and science can help not only to go beyond the facts/values dichotomy, but to recover a unity of meaning in which existential reason is not opposed to metaphysical reason: to describe the complexity of life one needs to have tools with which to see its shape and its finality.

IntroductionIn 2008, researchers at New York University’s Computational Neuroimaging Laboratory challenged our contemporary understanding of audience with an alternative approach to engaging some of the most essential questions regarding film consumption. The study itself used a functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI) scanner during the “free viewing of films” allowing researchers the opportunity to see which sections of the brain are activated during certain parts of the viewing (Hasson et al. 2). In an effort to overcome limitations of fMRI imaging, the researchers further utilized an inter-subjective correlation (ISC) technique to validate their findings. Simply put, ISC looks at the similar effects in neuroimaging across a range of viewers for the same rhetorical artifact; the higher the similarity, the more confident the researchers are that the impact of the film is the same for most or all viewers. This impact is said to “control” the viewers mental and emotional state in that they can be a reliable way to predict a viewer’s “emotions, thoughts, [and] attitudes” (Hasson et al. 2). The researchers termed their work “neurocinematics” and concluded that this new approach could “contribute to the cognitive movement in film theory, analogous to contributions that neuroscience has made to cognitive and social psychology.” (Hasson et al. 21).Since the publication of this research, there have been over a dozen academic essays published, including additional work in the hard sciences, and contributions from psychology and literary and film studies (see Cohen, Shavalian and Rube; Loschky et al.; Erincin; Kauttonen, Hlushchuk and Tikka; Christoforou et al.). Many seem to be responding to the original authors’ calls for neurocinematics to be “a new interdisciplinary field” between “cognitive neuroscience and film studies” that is “part of a larger endeavor that looks for connections between neuroscience and art” (Hasson et al. 1, 21). Noticeably missing from their call for an inter-disciplinary approach, however, is one that includes rhetorical studies. In fact, to date, there has only been a single publication referring to neurocinematics in communication studies – an essay that was not specific to film nor audience, and that limited its discussion to the effectiveness of fMRI imaging (see Weber, Mangus and Huskey). It is the argument of this essay that rhetorical studies should be included in neurocinematics for two reasons: first, rhetorical studies can provide an alternative theoretical understanding of narrative that should prove to be enlightening for this emerging field; and second, rhetorical studies can provide the necessary ethical positioning for this emerging field.The Rhetorical Studies AlternativeThe first justification for the inclusion of rhetorical studies in neurocinematics is the alternative theoretical approach to narrative that rhetoricians can provide. The original neurocinematics research found that structured stories provided a much higher degree of ISC than open-ended, unstructured “real life” depictions. The researchers showed 10 minutes of Sergio Leone’s film, The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly and a 10-minute stable shot of a Saturday afternoon in Washington Square Park that represented an unstructured, real-life event. The researchers concluded that, “a mere mechanical reproduction of reality, with no directorial intention or intervention, is not sufficient by itself for controlling viewer’s brain activity” (Hasson et al. 8). That the “slice of real life” didn’t have the same predictive functions as the “intentional construction of the film’s sequence through aesthetic means” has important implications for rhetorical studies (Hasson et al. 9). It’s not cinematic imagery alone that corresponds to brain activations, but the construction of story and the aesthetic elements of narrative presentations (that is to say, the creation of rhetoric) that has predictive functions. In A Grammar of Motives, Kenneth Burke notes that dramatism “invites one to consider the matter of motives in a perspective that, being developed from the analysis of drama, treats language and thought primarily as modes of action” (xxii). For Burke, all of our stories are the product of thought, whether it be conscious or unconscious, and this thought belies how we view the world of symbols in which we live. Michael Overington contends that dramatismaddresses the empirical questions of how persons explain their actions to themselves and others, what the cultural and social structural influences on these interpretations might be, and what effect connotational links among the explanatory (motivational) terms might have on these explanations and hence, on action itself. (133)Language is the vehicle for human behaviour and represents how we describe the world to ourselves and to others so that “a rhetor’s language can be used to discover motive” (Foss, Foss and Trapp 200). Film is nothing short of a dramatistic explanation that allows us the opportunity to dissect it with more detail to determine the worldview not only of the auteur, but of the spectator as well. Although film studies has its own theories on story and structure, a “systematic application” of Burke’s dramatism “enables an observer to reconstruct various perspectives of ‘reality’” (Stewart, Smith, and Denton 168). When compared to film studies, as an academic discipline, rhetorical studies offers an alternative understanding of narrative. Film studies asks us to apply a structural model to a narrative, while rhetorical studies asks us to apply a systems model that unmasks a narrative. As an example, film studies might examine a film’s structure, looking at the rising action of subplot B as it corresponds in the third reel to the declining action of the subplot A before denouement. As an alternative example, rhetorical studies could offer a dramatistic reading to examine the motivations of scenic ratios between the two subplots as it defines cinematic reality for the audience. Although neurocinematics may help predict the affective impact of the subplots for an audience, it is currently rooted in a structural assumption of audience and narrative, which fails to provide a full account of the spectator’s experience as it relates to the filmmaker’s rhetorical motivation. The addition of rhetorical studies to the conversation can provide an alternative approach and give an additional richness to our understandings of audience.While film studies may engage the ideological function of films, rhetorical studies amplifies their findings. In “The Storyteller,” Walter Benjamin writes,the storytelling that thrives for a long time in the milieu of work … is itself an artisanal form of communication, as it were. It does not aim to convey the pure ‘in itself’ or gist of a thing, like information or a report. It submerges the thing into the life of the story-teller, in order to bring it out of him again. (149)For Benjamin, the storyteller is an artisan that exists external to the rhetorical artifact itself, which, of course, means that the structural focus of film studies falls inevitably short. Further, Benjamin argues that there is an ideological component to both narrative and its medium. He writes, “Just as the entire mode of existence of human collectives changes over long historical periods, so too does their mode of perception. The way in which human perception is organized – the medium in which it occurs – is conditioned not only by nature but by history” (Benjamin "Reproducibility" 255, emphasis in original). The oral tradition of storytelling is different, as is the storytelling of the novel, film, and so on. Indeed, it is the goal of neurocinematics to illustrate how the rhetoric of film is distinct from other forms of narrative discourse, which necessarily demands an inter-disciplinary focus that allows for an interrogation of the ideological functions that exist both within and without the text, which is what Burke’s dramatism provides.Further, Walter Fisher’s work with narrative extends the role of rhetorical theory into what should be discussed in neurocinematics. Fisher contends that the narrative form is something that is unique to humans, but something that all humans engage in; for him, “stories are fundamental to communication because they provide structure for our experience as humans and because they influence people to live in communities that share common explanations and understandings” (Burgchardt 239). As noted earlier, neurocinematics argues that there is a coherence in cinematic narratives that don’t exist in “slice of life” filmic images. Similarly, Walter Fisher contends that this “coherence” is inborn in the narrative being (his homo narran) “their inherent awareness of narrative probability, what constitutes a coherent story, and their constant habit of testing narrative fidelity, whether the stories they experience ring true with the stories they know to be true in their lives” (8). The neurocinematics researchers conclude that, “the ISC analysis of brain activity can also serve as a measurement of systematic differences in how various groups of individuals … respond to the same film” (Hasson et al. 20). Fisher notes that the philosophical foundation of the rational world paradigm (which he sets opposite his narrative paradigm) “is epistemology. Its linguistic materials are self-evident propositions, demonstrations, and proofs, the verbal expressions of certain and probably knowing” (4). The danger with neurocinematics rooted in pure rationality is that it co-opts the narrative function, makes the spectator as agent and film as object separate from one another (when ISC begs that they interact), and brackets off questions such as ethics. Fisher concludes, “With knowledge of agents, we can hope to find that which is reliable or trustworthy; with knowledge of objects, we can hope to discover that which has the quality of veracity. The world requires both kinds of knowledge” (18). Of course, this question demands a discussion of ethics, which the current approach to neurocinematics explicitly denies as a subject of inquiry. The authors write, different filmmakers differ in the level of control they choose to impose on viewers, and out methods are not designed to judge this, but rather to measure the effect of a given film on different target groups. Thus the critical evaluation of each film is outside the domain of this research. (Hasson et al. 21-2)This is the danger Fisher warns of. The assumption that neurocinematics can be a purely descriptive project is not only unfeasible, but also unconscionable. Unlike researchers who deny the place of ideology and ethics, “rhetorical critics, of course, have long recognized the centrality of ideology to persuasive discourse” (Burgchardt 451). To illustrate why this is a vital issue for neurocinematics, let’s take its existing descriptive project to its logical conclusion. Theoretically, researchers could reach a point where there was a 100% ISC, meaning that there existed a cinematic formula that would impact every audience member the same way and would “control” their emotional and mental states – for neurocinematics this would constitute the “perfect” film. This “perfect” film, however, wouldn’t exist in a research vacuum, but in a morass of culture, politics, and ideology. Cultural critic Slavoj Žižek notes the impact that Nine-Eleven had on film:the ultimate twist in this link between Hollywood and the ‘war on terrorism’ occurred when the Pentagon decided to solicit the help of Hollywood: … at the beginning of November 2001, there was a series of meetings between White House advisors and senior Hollywood executives with the aim of co-ordinating the war effort and establishing how Hollywood could help in the war effort and establishing how Hollywood could help in the ‘war against terrorism’ by getting the right ideological meaning across not only to Americans, but to the Hollywood public around the globe – the ultimate empirical proof that Hollywood does in fact function as an ‘ideological state apparatus’. (16)The ethical implications are overwhelming: propaganda films are nothing new, but neurocinematics has the potential to usher in a whole new type of propaganda cinema, under the guise of entertainment, that is 100% effective. The original neurocinematic research argued that “the ISC measurement should probably not be used to evaluate the aesthetic, artistic, social, or political value of movies” (Hasson et al. 21). Conversely, rhetorical studies demands that criticism and scholarship not only comment on texts, but ethical considerations “will not be averted either by ignoring it or placing it beyond our provence” (Wander 18).Further, the very goal of neurocinematics demands the critical reaction that current rhetorical theory is prepared to provide. The stated end-game for neurocinematics is to determine how films discursively interact with a viewer’s mental state and, therefore, their affective response to an aesthetic experience. Raymie McKerrow notes that critical rhetorical theory must examine “the manner in which discourse insinuates itself in the fabric of social power, and thereby ‘effects’ the status of knowledge among the members of the social group” (92). Michael Calvin McGee argues, “We do not ‘observe’ objects and human actions … we construct these phenomena through rational acts of ‘selecting,’ ‘coordinating,’ ‘interpreting,’ and ‘applying’ sensory data” (48). There is no potential for a non-normative descriptive project inside of these parameters; there is no neutral observation by the spectator, the filmic experience is one that is constructed internally. Neurocinematics notes that there are interactions between brain spheres (e.g. neocortex and the amygdala) that create an intersubjective experience (which is quantitatively described with the ISC), but to explain, even descriptively, what is occurring in these viewers requires determining what the audience “knows” and how the discursive impact of the film effects them neurologically. The field of neurocinematics is not morally neutral, though it insists on presenting itself that way. At its most basic level, the researchers are not separate from the ethical and ideological functions of their studies: they make normative claims about which films are “worthy” of study, they manufacture inter-subjective reality with their critical reactions to the artifacts, and their communicative reporting in the essay itself provides agency to the film while simultaneously denying agency to the viewers. Further, when neurocinematics is taken to its logical conclusion (the ability to manufacture the descriptively “perfect” film – one with a 100% ISC), the ethical concerns are overwhelming. With Hollywood films operating more and more as a part of the ideological state apparatus, the potential for highly effective propaganda films becomes more and more real, and more and more frightening. If the conclusions by these researchers is true, that these films “control” our mental states, then the power of such propaganda films could be devastating.ConclusionThis essay has argued that rhetorical scholars have not only a unique opportunity, but an ethical obligation, to insert ourselves into one of the most innovative inter-disciplinary fields to emerge in recent history. Neurocinematics has the potential to transform cognitive neuroscience and film studies both and it is imperative that rhetoricians insert themselves into this dialogue. First, the work that rhetorical studies has done on storytelling, narrative, and dramatism provides unique perspectives that have been overlooked by the structural models of film studies. Further, the scientists driving neurocinematics forward deny the need for political and value claims to be assessed to their work. Rhetorical studies has the opportunity to challenge these illusions of neutrality and help neuroscientists to understand that their work is, indeed, ideological, and that the dangers of ideology manifest themselves when these perspectives are pushed to the side under the guise of neutrality. ReferencesBenjamin, Walter. "The Storyteller." Trans. Edmund Jephcott, Howard Eiland, and others. Selected Writings Volume 3, 1935-1938. Eds. Howard Eiland and Michael W. Jennings. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2002. ———. "Work of Art in the Age of Reproducibility." Trans. Edmund Jephcott and others. Selected Writings Volume 4, 1938-1940. Eds. Howard Eiland and Michael W. Jennings. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2003. Burgchardt, Carl, ed. Readings in Rhetorical Criticism. Third ed. State College: Strata Publishing, 2005. Burke, Kenneth. A Grammar of Motives. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1945. Christoforou, Christoforos, Spyros Christou-Champi, Fofi Constantinidou, and Maria Theodorou. "From the Eyes and the Heart: A Novel Eye-Gaze Metric That Predicts Video Preferences of a Large Audience." Frontiers in Psychology 6 (2015): 1-11. Cohen, Anna-Lisa, Elliot Shavalian, and Moshe Rube. "The Power of the Picture: How Narrative Film Captures Attention and Disrupts Goal Pursuit." PLoS ONE 10.12 (2015): 1-8. Erincin, Serap. "Dance in Translation: Subjectivity, Failed Spectatorship and Tolerance." Word & Text: A Journal of Literary Studies & Linguistics 2.2 (2012): 156-70. Fisher, Walter. "Narration as a Human Communication Paradigm: The Case of Public Moral Argument." Communication Monographs 51.1 (1984): 1-22. Foss, Sonja K., Karen A. Foss, and Robert Trapp. Contemporary Perspectives on Rhetoric. Third ed. Prospect Heights: Waveland Press, 2002. Hasson, Uri, Ohad Landesman, Barbara Knappmeyer, Ignacio Vallines, Nava Rubin, and David J. Heeger. "Neurocinematics: The Neuroscience of Film." Projections 2.1 (2008): 1-26. Kauttonen, Janne, Yevhen Hlushchuk, and Pia Tikka. "Optimizing Methods for Linking Cinematic Features to fMRI Data." NeuroImage 110 (2015): 136-48. Loschky, Lester C., Adam M. Larson, Joseph P. Magliano, and Tim J. Smith. "What Would Jaws Do? The Tyranny of Film and the Relationship between Gaze and Higher-Level Narrative Film Comprehension." PLoS ONE 10.11 (2015): 1-23. McKerrow, Raymie E. "Critical Rhetoric: Theory and Praxis." Communication Monographs 56.2 (1989): 91. Overington, Michael A. "Kenneth Burke and the Method of Dramatism." Theory & Society 4.1 (1977): 131. Stewart, Charles J., Craig Allen Smith, and Robert E. Denton Jr. Persuasion and Social Movements. Prospect Heights: Waveland Press, 1994. Wander, Philip C. "The Ideological Turn in Modern Criticism." Central States Speech Journal 34 (1983): 1-18. Weber, René, J. Michael Mangus, and Richard Huskey. "Brain Imaging in Communication Research: A Practical Guide to Understanding and Evaluating fMRI Studies." Communication Methods & Measures 9.1/2 (2015): 5-29. Žižek, Slavoj. Welcome to the Desert of the Real! Five Essays on September 11 and Related Dates. New York: Verso, 2002.

La Bioetica ci insegna quanto sia importante che la Medicina sia disposta a guardare e a trattare l’uomo che soffre nella sua interezza spirituale e corporea, opponendosi a quella cultura scientifica che ha perso il senso della unità dell’individuo, curando la patologia e non il malato. La prospettiva olistica è quella che meglio comprende il concetto di salute, in quanto definisce la salute come abilità di conseguire gli scopi vitali riferendosi all’uomo nella sua interezza. In questa modalità di affrontare l’uomo nella sua globalità, entra in gioco la corporeità, base necessaria per la relazione con i propri simili. La Medicina estetica si basa sull’intuizione che individua come il malessere del corpo possa andare ben oltre il corpo; ricorrervi deve significare rispettare l’umanità che è in ognuno di noi nella ricerca di un equilibrio psico-fisico che richiama ad una duplice moralità: quella del medico che deve prestare la sua opera senza tradire gli scopi dell’arte medica e quella dell’utente che deve rispettare la sacralità della sua persona. Affrontare una diagnosi di malattia è difficile; il malato vaga in una condizione di incredulità e sgomento che possono far dimenticare che c’è un viso che “chiede” e un corpo che “parla”; l’attenzione alla componente estetica della nostra persona nei percorsi di malattia può aiutare a riportare l’attenzione e assumere la corporeità al centro dell’interesse del paziente. Ciò non comporta alcun riduzionismo soggettivista, tutt’altro: permette di non mistificare l’esperienza soggettiva mettendo in luce il ruolo della dimensione della malattia nella definizione delle nostre più intime esperienze. In questa particolare situazione, in un contesto condiviso e supportato dall’intero staff sanitario, la Medicina estetica può portare un contributo per interagire con un corpo che può desiderare di essere riscoperto: il suo apporto, in un approccio integrato al paziente, tende a far sì che la cura del paziente possa operare su tutte le quattro dimensioni della salute, organica, psichica, socio-ambientale, etico-spirituale, ognuna delle quali investe tutta la sua persona: per far sì che, se esistono malattie inguaribili, non debbano mai esistere malattie incurabili. ---------- Bioethics teaches us the importance of Medicine being open to consider and treat suffering people in their spiritual and corporeal wholeness, thus opposing a scientific culture which has lost the sense of unity of the individual, as it deals with the treatment of organs or pathologies rather than of patients. The holistic perspective interprets the concept of health in the best way, in that it defines health as the ability of achieving vital goals, and refers to the human being as a whole. This way of dealing with the total human being implies a role for corporeity, intended as a necessary basis for inter-individual relationships. Aesthetic Medicine is based on the intuition according to which it is possible to identify how physical discomfort may extend well beyond the body itself; therefore, resort to it must mean respect for the human beings we all are, and continuous search for psychic and physical equilibrium, which implies two aspects of morality, i.e., ethical practice by physicians, who must dispense their services without failing in the aims of the art of medicine, and ethical behaviour by users, who must respect the holiness of their own persons. It is difficult to face a diagnosis of disease; sick persons fall a prey to feelings of disbelief and dismay such that they may be induced to neglect their own “asking” faces, and their own “talking” bodies. So, the attention to the aesthetic component of our persons during the course of the illness may help to focus again both the attention and the interest of patients on corporeity. This does not imply any sort of subjectivist reductionism, quite the contrary. Rather, it allows to not mystify the subjective experience, by emphasizing the role played by the importance of the disease within the definition of our most intimate experiences. Then, in the particular situation herein referred to, that is, within a context which is shared and supported by all the health staff, Aesthetic Medicine can make its contribution to interact with a body which it is really possible to rediscover. The contribution of Aesthetic Medicine – within a patient- focused approach – is intended to allow that patients’ care may act for all four aspects of health, i.e., organic, psychical, socio-environmental, and ethical-spiritual ones, each of which concerns their whole persons. And this, so that – even if non-healing diseases exist – “not curable” diseases shall never exist.

IntroductionIt has been nearly half a century since the appearance of Susan Sontag’s landmark essay “The Imagination of Disaster.” The critic wrote of the public fascination with science fiction disaster films, claiming that, on the one hand “from a psychological point of view, the imagination of disaster does not greatly differ from one period in history to another [but, on the other hand] from a political and moral point of view, it does” (224). Even if Sontag is right about aspects of the imagination of disaster not changing, the types, frequency, and magnitude of disasters and their representation in media and popular culture suggest that dynamic conditions prevail on both counts. Disaster has become a significantly urban phenomenon, and highly publicised “worst case” scenarios such as Hurricane Katrina and the Haiti earthquake highlight multiple demographic, cultural, and environmental contexts for visualising cataclysm. The 1950s and 60s science fiction films that Sontag wrote about were filled with marauding aliens and freaks of disabused science. Since then, their visual and dramatic effects have been much enlarged by all kinds of disaster scenarios. Partly imagined, these scenarios have real-life counterparts with threats from terrorism and the war on terror, pan-epidemics, and global climate change. Sontag’s essay—like most, if not all of the films she mentions—overlooked the aftermath; that is, the rebuilding, following extra-terrestrial invasion. It ignored what was likely to happen when the monsters were gone. In contrast, the psychological as well as the practical, social, and economic aspects of reconstruction are integral to disaster discourse today. Writing about how architecture might creatively contribute to post-conflict (including war) and disaster recovery, for instance, Boano elaborates the psychological background for rebuilding, where the material destruction of dwellings and cities “carries a powerful symbolic erosion of security, social wellbeing and place attachment” (38); these are depicted as attributes of selfhood and identity that must be restored. Similarly, Hutchison and Bleiker (385) adopt a view evident in disaster studies, that disaster-struck communities experience “trauma” and require inspired responses that facilitate “healing and reconciliation” as well as material aid such as food, housing, and renewed infrastructure. This paper revisits Sontag’s “The Imagination of Disaster,” fifty years on in view of the changing face of disasters and their representation in film media, including more recent films. The paper then considers disaster recovery and outlines the difficult path that “creative industries” like architecture and urban planning must tread when promising a vision of rebuilding that provides for such intangible outcomes as “healing and reconciliation.” We find that hopes for the seemingly positive psychologically- and socially-recuperative outcomes accompanying the prospect of rebuilding risk a variety of generalisation akin to wish-fulfilment that Sontag finds in disaster films. The Psychology of Science Fiction and Disaster FilmsIn “The Imagination of Disaster,” written at or close to the height of the Cold War, Sontag ruminates on what America’s interest in, if not preoccupation with, science fiction films tell us about ourselves. Their popularity cannot be explained in terms of their entertainment value alone; or if it can, then why audiences found (and still find) such films entertaining is something that itself needs explanation.Depicted in media like photography and film, utopian and dystopian thought have at least one thing in common. Their visions of either perfected or socially alienated worlds are commonly prompted by criticism of the social/political status quo and point to its reform. For Sontag, science fiction films portrayed both people’s worst nightmares concerning disaster and catastrophe (e.g. the end of the world; chaos; enslavement; mutation), as well as their facile victories over the kinds of moral, political, and social dissolution the films imaginatively depicted. Sontag does not explicitly attribute such “happy endings” to wish-fulfilling phantasy and ego-protection. (“Phantasy” is to be distinguished from fantasy. It is a psychoanalytic term for states of mind, often symbolic in form, resulting from infantile wish-fulfilment, desires and instincts.) She does, however, describe the kinds of fears, existential concerns (like annihilation), and crises of meaning they are designed (purpose built) to allay. The fears are a product of the time—the down and dark side of technology (e.g. depersonalisation; ambivalence towards science, scientists, and technology) and changes wrought in our working and personal lives by urbanisation. In short, then as now, science fictions films were both expressions of deep and genuine worries and of the pressing need to inventively set them to rest.When Sontag claims that “the imagination of disaster does not greatly differ” (224) from one period to another, this is because, psychologically speaking, neither the precipitating concerns and fears (death, loss of love, meaninglessness, etc.), nor the ways in which people’s minds endeavour to assuage them, substantively differ. What is different is the way they are depicted. This is unsurprisingly a function of the political, social, and moral situations and milieus that provide the context in which the imagination of disaster unfolds. In contemporary society, the extent to which the media informs and constructs the context in which the imagination operates is unprecedented.Sontag claims that there is little if any criticism of the real social and political conditions that bring about the fears the films depict (223). Instead, fantasy operates so as to displace and project the actual causes away from their all too human origins into outer space and onto aliens. In a sense, this is the core and raison d’etre for such films. By their very nature, science fiction films of the kind Sontag is discussing cannot concern themselves with genuine social or political criticism (even though the films are necessarily expressive of such criticism). Any serious questioning of the moral and political status quo—conditions that are responsible for the disasters befalling people—would hamper the operation of fantasy and its production of temporarily satisfying “solutions” to whatever catastrophe is being depicted.Sontag goes on to discuss various strategies science fiction employs to deal with such fears. For example, through positing a bifurcation between good and evil, and grossly oversimplifying the moral complexity of situations, it allows one to “give outlet to cruel or at least amoral feelings” (215) and to exercise feelings of superiority—moral and otherwise. Ambiguous feelings towards science and technology are repressed. Quick and psychologically satisfying fixes are sought for these by means of phantasy and the imaginative construction of invulnerable heroes. Much of what Sontag says can straightforwardly be applied to catastrophe in general. “Alongside the hopeful fantasy of moral simplification and international unity embodied in the science fiction films lurk the deepest anxieties about contemporary existence” (220). Sontag writes:In the films it is by means of images and sounds […] that one can participate in the fantasy of living through one’s own death and more, the death of cities, the destruction of humanity itself. Science fiction films are not about science. They are about disaster, which is one of the oldest subjects in art. In science fiction films disaster is rarely viewed intensively; it is always extensive. It is a matter of quality and ingenuity […] the science fiction film […] is concerned with the aesthetics of disaster […] and it is in the imagery of destruction that the core of a good science fiction film lies. (212–13)In science fiction films, disaster, though widespread, is viewed intensively as well as extensively. The disturbances constitutive of the disaster are moral and emotional as well as material. People are left without the mental or physical abilities they need to cope. Government is absent or useless. We find ourselves in what amounts to what Naomi Zack (“Philosophy and Disaster”; Ethics for Disaster) describes as a Hobbesian second state of nature—where government is inoperative and chaos (moral, social, political, personal) reigns. Science fiction’s way out is to imaginatively construct scenarios emotionally satisfying enough to temporarily assuage the distress (anomie or chaos) experienced in the film.There is, however, a tremendous difference in the way in which people who face catastrophic occurrences in their lives, as opposed to science fiction, address the problems. For one thing, they must be far closer to complex and quickly changing realities and uncertain truths than are the phantastic, temporarily gratifying, and morally unproblematic resolutions to the catastrophic scenarios that science fiction envisions. Genuine catastrophe, for example war, undermines and dismantles the structures—material structures to be sure but also those of justice, human kindness, and affectivity—that give us the wherewithal to function and that are shown to be inimical to catastrophe as such. Disaster dispenses with civilization while catastrophe displaces it.Special Effects and Changing StorylinesScience fiction and disaster film genres have been shaped by developments in visual simulation technologies providing opportunities for imaginatively mixing fact and fiction. Developments in filmmaking include computer or digital techniques for reproducing on the screen what can otherwise only be imagined as causal sequences of events and spectacles accompanying the wholesale destruction of buildings and cities—even entire planets. Indeed films are routinely promoted on the basis of how cinematographers and technicians have advanced the state of the art. The revival of 3-D movies with films such as Avatar (2009) and Prometheus (2012) is one of a number of developments augmenting the panoramas of 1950s classics featuring “melting tanks, flying bodies, crashing walls, awesome craters and fissures in the earth, plummeting spacecraft [and] colourful deadly rays” (Sontag 213). An emphasis on the scale of destruction and the wholesale obliteration of recognisable sites emblematic of “the city” (mega-structures like the industrial plant in Aliens (1986) and vast space ships like the “Death Star” in two Star Wars sequels) connect older films with new ones and impress the viewer with ever more extraordinary spectacle.Films that have been remade make for useful comparison. On the whole, these reinforce the continuation and predictability of some storylines (for instance, threats of extra-terrestrial invasion), but also the attenuation or disappearance of other narrative elements such as the monsters and anxieties released by mid-twentieth century atomic tests (Broderick). Remakes also highlight emerging themes requiring novel or updated critical frameworks. For example, environmental anxieties, largely absent in 1950s science fiction films (except for narratives involving colliding worlds or alien contacts) have appeared en masse in recent years, providing an updated view on the ethical issues posed by the fall of cities and communities (Taylor, “Urban”).In The Invasion of the Bodysnatchers and its remakes (1956, 1978, 1993), for example, the organic and vegetal nature of the aliens draws the viewer’s attention to an environment formed by combative species, allowing for threats of infestation, growth and decay of the self and individuality—a longstanding theme. In the most recent version, The Invasion (2007), special effects and directorial spirit render the orifice-seeking tendrils of the pod creatures threateningly vigorous and disturbing (Lim). More sanctimonious than physically invasive, the aliens in the 1951 version of The Day the Earth Stood Still are fed up with humankind’s fixation with atomic self-destruction, and threaten global obliteration on the earth (Cox). In the 2008 remake, the suave alien ambassador, Keanu Reeves, targets the environmental negligence of humanity.Science, including science as fiction, enters into disaster narratives in a variety of ways. Some are less obvious but provocative nonetheless; for example, movies dramatising the arrival of aliens such as War of the Worlds (1953 and 2005) or Alien (1979). These more subtle approaches can be personally confronting even without the mutation of victims into vegetables or zombies. Special effects technologies have made it possible to illustrate the course of catastrophic floods and earthquakes in considerable scientific and visual detail and to represent the interaction of natural disasters, the built environment, and people, from the scale of buildings, homes, and domestic lives to entire cities and urban populations.For instance, the blockbuster film The Day After Tomorrow (2004) runs 118 minutes, but has an uncertain fictional time frame of either a few weeks or 72 hours (if the film’s title is to taken literally). The movie shows the world as we know it being mostly destroyed. Tokyo is shattered by hailstones and Los Angeles is twisted by cyclones the likes of which Dorothy would never have seen. New York disappears beneath a mountainous tsunami. All of these events result from global climate change, though whether this is due to human (in) action or other causes is uncertain. Like their predecessors, the new wave of disaster movies like The Day After Tomorrow makes for questionable “art” (Annan). Nevertheless, their reception opens a window onto broader political and moral contexts for present anxieties. Some critics have condemned The Day After Tomorrow for its scientific inaccuracies—questioning the scale or pace of climate change. Others acknowledge errors while commending efforts to raise environmental awareness (Monbiot). Coincident with the film and criticisms in both the scientific and political arena is a new class of environmental heretic—the climate change denier. This is a shadowy character commonly associated with the presidency of George W. Bush and the oil lobby that uses minor inconsistencies of science to claim that climate change does not exist. One thing underlying both twisting facts for the purposes of making science fiction films and ignoring evidence of climate change is an infantile orientation towards the unknown. In this regard, recent films do what science fiction disaster films have always done. While freely mixing truths and half-truths for the purpose of heightened dramatic effect, they fulfil psychological tasks such as orchestrating nightmare scenarios and all too easy victories on the screen. Uncertainty regarding the precise cause, scale, or duration of cataclysmic natural phenomena is mirrored by suspension of disbelief in the viability of some human responses to portrayals of urban disaster. Science fiction, in other words, invites us to accept as possible the flight of Americans and their values to Mexico (The Day After Tomorrow), the voyage into earth’s molten core (The Core 2003), or the disposal of lava in LA’s drainage system (Volcano 1997). Reinforcing Sontag’s point, here too there is a lack of criticism of the real social and political conditions that bring about the fears depicted in the films (223). Moreover, much like news coverage, images in recent natural disaster films (like their predecessors) typically finish at the point where survivors are obliged to pick up the pieces and start all over again—the latter is not regarded as newsworthy. Allowing for developments in science fiction films and the disaster genre, Sontag’s observation remains accurate. The films are primarily concerned “with the aesthetics of destruction, with the peculiar beauties to be found in wreaking havoc, in making a mess” (213) rather than rebuilding. The Imagination of Disaster RecoverySontag’s essay contributes to an important critical perspective on science fiction film. Variations on her “psychological point of view” have been explored. (The two discourses—psychology and cinema—have parallel and in some cases intertwined histories). Moreover, in the intervening years, psychological or psychoanalytical terms and narratives have themselves become even more a part of popular culture. They feature in recent disaster films and disaster recovery discourse in the “real” world.Today, with greater frequency than in the 1950s and 60s films arguably, representations of alien invasion or catastrophic global warming serve to background conflict resolutions of a more quotidian and personal nature. Hence, viewers are led to suspect that Tom Cruise will be more likely to survive the rapacious monsters in the latest The War of the Worlds if he can become less narcissistic and a better father. Similarly, Dennis Quaid’s character will be much better prepared to serve a newly glaciated America for having rescued his son (and marriage) from the watery deep-freezer that New York City becomes in The Day After Tomorrow. In these films the domestic and familial comprise a domain of inter-personal and communal relations from which victims and heroes appear. Currents of thought from the broad literature of disaster studies and Western media also call upon this domain. The imagination of disaster recovery has come to partly resemble a set of problems organised around the needs of traumatised communities. These serve as an object of urban governance, planning, and design conceived in different ways, but largely envisioned as an organic unity that connects urban populations, their pasts, and settings in a meaningful, psychologically significant manner (Furedi; Hutchison and Bleiker; Boano). Terms like “place” or concepts like Boano’s “place-attachment" (38) feature in this discourse to describe this unity and its subjective dimensions. Consider one example. In August 2006, one year after Katrina, the highly respected Journal of Architectural Education dedicated a special issue to New Orleans and its reconstruction. Opening comments by editorialist Barbara Allen include claims presupposing enduring links between the New Orleans community conceived as an organic whole, its architectural heritage imagined as a mnemonic vehicle, and the city’s unique setting. Though largely unsupported (and arguably unsupportable) the following proposition would find agreement across a number of disaster studies and resonates in commonplace reasoning:The culture of New Orleans is unique. It is a mix of ancient heritage with layers and adaptations added by successive generations, resulting in a singularly beautiful cultural mosaic of elements. Hurricane Katrina destroyed buildings—though not in the city’s historic core—and displaced hundreds of thousands of people, but it cannot wipe out the memories and spirit of the citizens. (4) What is intriguing about the claim is an underlying intellectual project that subsumes psychological and sociological domains of reasoning within a distinctive experience of community, place, and memory. In other words, the common belief that memory is an intrinsic part of the human condition of shock and loss gives form to a theory of how urban communities experience disaster and how they might re-build—and justify rebuilding—themselves. This is problematic and invites anachronistic thinking. While communities are believed to be formed partly by memories of a place, “memory” is neither a collective faculty nor is it geographically bounded. Whose memories are included and which ones are not? Are these truly memories of one place or do they also draw on other real or imagined places? Moreover—and this is where additional circumspection is inspired by our reading of Sontag’s essay—does Allen’s editorial contribute to an aestheticised image of place, rather than criticism of the social and political conditions required for reconstruction to proceed with justice, compassionately and affectively? Allowing for civil liberties to enter the picture, Allen adds “it is necessary to enable every citizen to come back to this exceptional city if they so desire” (4). However, given that memories of places and desires for their recovery are not univocal, and often contain competing visions of what was and should be, it is not surprising they should result in competing expectations for reconstruction efforts. This has clearly proven the case for New Orleans (Vederber; Taylor, “Typologies”)ConclusionThe comparison of films invites an extension of Sontag’s analysis of the imagination of disaster to include the psychology, politics, and morality of rebuilding. Can a “psychological point of view” help us to understand not only the motives behind capturing so many scenes of destruction on screen and television, but also something of the creative impulses driving reconstruction? This invites a second question. How do some impulses, particularly those caricatured as the essence of an “enterprise culture” (Heap and Ross) associated with America’s “can-do” or others valorised as positive outcomes of catastrophe in The Upside of Down (Homer-Dixon), highlight or possibly obscure criticism of the conditions which made cities like New Orleans vulnerable in the first place? The broad outline of an answer to the second question begins to appear only when consideration of the ethics of disaster and rebuilding are taken on board. If “the upside” of “the down” wrought by Hurricane Katrina, for example, is rebuilding of any kind, at any price, and for any person, then the equation works (i.e., there is a silver lining for every cloud). If, however, the range of positives is broadened to include issues of social justice, then the figures require more complex arithmetic.ReferencesAllen, Barbara. “New Orleans and Katrina: One Year Later.” Journal of Architectural Education 60.1 (2006): 4.Annan, David. Catastrophe: The End of the Cinema? London: Lorrimer, 1975.Boano, Camillo. “‘Violent Space’: Production and Reproduction of Security and Vulnerabilities.” The Journal of Architecture 16 (2011): 37–55.Broderick, Mick, ed. Hibakusha Cinema: Hiroshima, Nagasaki and the Nuclear Image in Japanese Film. London: Kegan Paul, 1996.Cox, David. “Get This, Aliens: We Just Don’t Care!” The Guardian 15 Dec. 2008 ‹http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/filmblog/2008/dec/15/the-day-the-earth-stood-still›. Furedi, Frank. “The Changing Meaning of Disaster.” Area 39.4 (2007): 482–89.Heap, Shaun H., and Angus Ross, eds. Understanding the Enterprise Culture: Themes in the Work of Mary Douglas. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1992. Homer-Dixon, Thomas. The Upside of Down: Catastrophe, Creativity and the Renewal of Civilization. Washington, DC: Island Press, 2006.Hutchison, Emma, and Roland Bleiker. “Emotional Reconciliation: Reconstituting Identity and Community after Trauma.” European Journal of Social Theory 11 (2008): 385–403.Lim, Dennis. “Same Old Aliens, But New Neuroses.” New York Times 12 Aug. 2007: A17.Monbiot, George. “A Hard Rain's A-gonna Fall.” The Guardian 14 May 2004.Sontag, Susan. “The Imagination of Disaster” (1965). Against Interpretation and Other Essays. New York: Dell, 1979. 209–25.Taylor, William M. “Typologies of Katrina: Mnemotechnics in Post-Disaster New Orleans.” Interstices 13 (2012): 71–84.———. “Urban Disasters: Visualising the Fall of Cities and the Forming of Human Values.” Journal of Architecture 11.5 (2006): 603–12.Verderber, Stephen. “Five Years After – Three New Orleans Neighborhoods.” Journal of Architectural Education 64.1 (2010): 107–20.Zack, Naomi. Ethics for Disaster. New York: Rowman and Littlefield, 2009.———. “Philosophy and Disaster.” Homeland Security Affairs 2, article 5 (April 2006): ‹http://www.hsaj.org/?article=2.1.5›.FilmographyAlien. Dir. Ridley Scott. Brandywine Productions, 1979.Aliens. Dir. James Cameron. Brandywine Productions, 1986.Avatar. Dir. James Cameron. Lightstorm Entertainment et al., 2009.The Core. Dir. Jon Amiel. Paramount Pictures, 2003.The Day after Tomorrow. Dir. Roland Emmerich. 20th Century Fox, 2004.The Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Dir. Don Siegel. Allied Artists, 1956; also 1978 and 1993.The Invasion. Dirs. Oliver Hirschbiegel and Jame McTeigue. Village Roadshow et al, 2007.Prometheus. Dir. Ridley Scott. Scott Free and Brandywine Productions, 2012Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope. Dir. George Lucas. Lucasfilm, 1977.Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi. Dir. George Lucas. Lucasfilm, 1983.Volcano. Dir. Mick Jackson. 20th Century Fox, 1997.War of the Worlds. Dir. George Pal. Paramount, 1953; also Steven Spielberg. Paramount, 2005.Acknowledgments The authors are grateful to Oenone Rooksby and Joely-Kym Sobott for their assistance and advice when preparing this article. It was also made possible in part by a grant from the Australian Research Council.

Should ethical standards be enforced on performers or their critics? Asking such a question may stimulate memories of personal or professional censorship and fearful imaginings of oppressive, fascist regimes. Indeed, many of us might immediately respond by arguing that personal expression should never be inhibited since a person's right to free expression is an essential tenet of a democratic society. Yet this question raises issues that are not easily dismissed and it may remind us that it is equally important to remember that a number of responsibilities and repercussions can accompany the public expression of personal experiences and opinions. A short time ago, I was told that this journal had to grapple with similar considerations when a performer decided to pursue legal action after reading a critical account of his/her performance in M/C Reviews. When I was first asked to comment on this situation, I initially found myself considering familiar arguments that defend the right to free speech. However, upon reflection, I think there is more to be said about the long term causes and effects of such an action and I wish to explore how this incident illustrates the friction that can be generated when traditional and emergent value systems are adopted indiscriminately. To me, the dispute between the performer and M/C illustrates what seems to be a growing confusion surrounding interpretations of what is right (what is legal or permissible?), what is true (whose opinion?), and what is good (the performance or an audience's response?). Although definitions of what is right, true, and good have always had to negotiate shifting boundaries, the increasingly blurry usages of these terms are reflecting a waxing disregard for how these distinctions impact upon our judgements. Jon McKenzie has offered some explanation of this new social attitude in his recently published text Perform or Else. Throughout this text, he argues that 'performance' is now widely recognised in commercial industries as a conceptual tool for assessing human and technological standards and that this concept is fast becoming the dominant social model of evaluation. According to McKenzie, traditional philosophical distinctions are becoming less influential, while performance 'effectiveness' and 'efficiency' are increasingly being viewed as the new measurements of what is right, true, and good (178-79). McKenzie's assessment of the social demand to perform echoes the comments of other twentieth-century theorists who have warned us of the growing objectification and alienation of human labour. However, his message is timely and provocative and it offers some explanation of the confusion surrounding critical appraisals of performances and performer's experiences. There is certainly evidence of a growing demand for efficient and effective appraisal of all human performance as individuals, companies, and governments produce reports, conduct market research, and continue to try and predict what results will be produced before any investment of personal or financial energy is committed. Yet as our society continues to develop a dependency on critical opinion, it unfortunately seems to be distancing audiences and performers, devaluing personal interpretations, and encouraging fewer exchanges between groups with varying values. Such distinctive separations can, in turn, isolate social groups and identities and invite exclusivity and intolerance for other evaluations. This kind of alienation seems to have governed the dispute between the performer and the critic from M/C. Although these trends may have made it socially 'permissible' to pursue legal action against critics, performers, or anyone else who expresses negative or unpalatable opinions, I think it is essential that we continue to ask whether is it right, or good to do so. Is it right or good to penalise someone for expressing a personal opinion? Is it right or good to object to an evaluation when someone offers a performance for appraisal? These are, of course, ethical questions that can only be hinted at here. However, I believe it is important to remember that live performing art forms can physically bring together varying social demographics and that they are therefore in a unique position to provide conceptual bridges between social groups with differing opinions. I wish to emphasise this fact and to ask readers to consider whether they wish opinions to become more and more polarised, or whether they wish to finds ways to enable us to appreciate and evaluate the diverse interpretations of performances more harmoniously. It is true that the 'objective' certainties associated with the basic principles of aesthetic appreciation are sagging under the weight of arguments from critical theory and postmodernism. It may also be true that the only certainty that will soon enjoy popular appeal may be one that suggests that pragmatic considerations should govern what we view as right, true, and good. All of these developments introduce challenges that need to be addressed. However, I do not believe they exclude the possibility that a shared theoretical perspective can be developed that can allow us to build bridges of understanding between varying opinions and social demands. Philosophers and social theorists such as Michael Stocker, Alessandro Ferrara, and Linda Zagzebski all agree that the development of such a perspective is possible. They have also suggested that finding this shared view may require us to embrace a more malleable and less certain way of knowing what is good about our opinions. Instead, they encourage individuals to reinvestigate ancient views of 'wisdom' and 'understanding' and to review personal emotional responses to what we believe is true and good. I believe such advice is valuable and that arguments like these offer theoretical tools for those involved in the criticism and practice of the performing arts still wanting to find bridges between disparate views. While 'critical' reviews can often alienate performers from those who are evaluating their performance, if we are to initiate understanding and tolerance, and celebrate and value difference, the beliefs and emotional responses that accompany and drive each of our opinions do require further reflection, articulation, and discussion. Some theatre critics already appear to recognise how important emotional responses are to the expression and reworking of personal and traditional beliefs. For example, some have suggested that a theatre performance can "make you stop breathing" (Christofis) or be "breathtaking" (McCallum) or "poignant and powerful" (Lambert). Other critics have suggested that performances contain "images of emotional power" (Kelly) with which an "audience can empathise, [and] sympathise" because the subject is close to their hearts" (Hinde). As these kinds of responses clearly embellish and entwine the experiences of performers and critics, perhaps we can eventually discover how powerful, passionate, and, sometimes, visceral experiences contribute benefits that can be objectively defined and defended. Alternatively, perhaps the inclusion of negative emotional responses in performances and critical reviews can provide some impetus for personal and professional development. Many might dismiss emotional responses as theoretical tools because individuals' emotional experiences reveal different qualities and/or intensities and seem to contain no shared causal indicator that can be objectively defined and graded. Yet if these kinds of experiences are really so subjective, so capricious and diverse, why do some theatre reviewers continue to describe and record them? If such reactions are peculiar to each individual and there is no guarantee that they can be replicated in other individuals, personal views of emotional and physical responses would only be viewed as useless, superfluous information. However, it seems that critics sharing their experiences are suggesting that something in the performance is powerful enough to evoke similar emotions in others. Furthermore, they seem to be indicating that these experiences are important and worth pursuing. So, instead of viewing powerful emotional responses as completely subjective, perhaps it is more accurate and fruitful to recognise how they signal the presence of beliefs and values that are formed inter-subjectively. A purely subjective appraisal of a performance would require a subject that is capable of receiving, processing and evaluating impressions in social isolation. A number of influential theorists like Bourdieu, Foucault, and Eagleton have argued that such a view is misleading since 'individuals' are developed from class and power relations and subjects cannot extricate themselves from social discourses of some kind. As a result of adopting perspectives like these, it is plausible to suggest that audiences may value or dismiss the ideas and experiences of the person recommending the performance as well as ideas about the performance itself. Furthermore, a person's experiences or ideas may seem to relate to our own, or be regarded as more valuable or significant than our own, and this may affect the way we assess any descriptions provided by others. Since emotional responses experienced by others can sometimes influence our own affective states, it seems theatres, critics, and performers that establish public social identities do need to become aware of how these experiences are stimulated. Some theatre scholars have suggested that analyses of the emotive element of audience reception must record and defend emotional responses according to an objective set of logical criteria that can be judged relevant by experts (Martin and Sauter 34; de Toro 120). However, the logical criteria that many performance scholars suggest should determine such evaluations are often purely empirical and I would suggest that the study of emotions and feelings must also incorporate the often forgotten epistemic values of personal understanding and wisdom. If these approaches are explored and integrated, I believe critics and performers may be reconciled through the recognition that personal opinions can change and that our responses should be discussed and defended rather than feared, attacked, or penalised. References Bourdieu, Pierre. Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste. Trans. Richard Nice. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1986. Christofis, Lee. "Colour Amid Darkest Drama." Rev. of The Funniest Man in the World, by Daniel Keene. Keene/Taylor Theatre Project, Grant Street Theatre, Melbourne. The Australian. May 2000: F18 de Toro, Fernando. Theatre Semiotics: Text and Staging in Modern Theatre. Trans. John Lewis. Ed. Carole Hubbard. Toronto: U of Toronto P, 1995. Eagleton, Terry. The Ideology of the Aesthetic. Oxford: Blackwell, 1990. Ferrara, Alessandro. Reflective Authenticity: Rethinking the Project of Modernity. London: Routledge, 1998. Foucault, Michel. "What is an Author?" Aesthetics: The Big Questions. Ed. Carolyn Korsmeyer. Oxford: Blackwell, 1998. 270-87. Hinde, Suellen. "Play Oh So True." Rev. of Choking in the Comfort Zone, by Stephen Carleton. Darwin Theatre Company, Brown's Mart, Darwin. Northern Territory News 15 Sep. 2000: W26. Kelly, Veronica. "Pretty, But as Deep as a Shallow Puddle." Rev. of The Skin of Our Teeth, by Thornton Wilder. Queensland Theatre Company, Optus Playhouse, Brisbane. The Australian 21 Feb. 2000: F18. Lambert, Catherine. "Revival of a Classic." Rev. of Death of a Salesman, by Arthur Miller, Melbourne Theatre Company, Fairfax Theatre, Melbourne. Sunday Herald Sun, 23 July 2000: LH87. Martin, Jacqueline, and Willmar Sauter. Understanding Theatre. Stockholm: Almqvist and Wiksell International, 1995. McCallum, John. "Don't Keep it Quiet." Rev. of Hollow Ground, by Nick Parsons. The NIDA Company, Belvoir Street Theatre, Sydney. The Australian 27 Mar. 2000: F15. McKenzie, Jon. Perform or Else: From Discipline to Performance. London: Routledge, 2001. Stocker, Michael. Valuing Emotions. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1996. Zagzebski, Linda Trinkaus. Virtues of the Mind: An Inquiry into the Nature of Virtue and Ethical Foundations of Knowledge. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1996. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Kehoul, Gillian. "Performing Feeling Without Fear" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5.1 (2002). [your date of access] < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0203/perform.php>. Chicago Style Kehoul, Gillian, "Performing Feeling Without Fear" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5, no. 1 (2002), < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0203/perform.php> ([your date of access]). APA Style Kehoul, Gillian. (2002) Performing Feeling Without Fear. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5(1). < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0203/perform.php> ([your date of access]).

In November 2015 the progressive rock band, Coheed and Cambria, released their latest album and art-book, both titled The Color before the Sun (Color) (2015). This album deviates from their previous six releases by explicitly using a biographical frame for the art-book, the album, and their paratexts. This is a divergence from the band’s concept album approach, a transmedia storyworld, The Amory Wars (TAW) (2002-17), which fictionalised the life experiences of Claudio Sanchez, the band’s lead singer. When scholars discuss transmedia they often refer to fantastic and speculative fictions, such as the Star Wars (1977-2018), Star Trek (1966-2018), Doctor Who (1963-2018) and Marvel Universe (1961-2018) franchises, and TAW fits this framework. However, there is increasing consideration of the impact transmedia reading and writing practices have on storytelling that straddles representations of the “real” world. By making collaborative life-writing explicit, Color encourages readers to resist colonising ontologies. Framing the life-writing within the band’s earlier auto-fiction(s) (TAW), Color destabilises genre divides between fiction and life-writing, and positions readers to critique Sanchez’s narration of his subjectivity. This enables readers to abstract their critique to ontological narratives that have a material impact on their own subjectivities: law, medicine, religion, and economics.The terms subject and identity are often used interchangeably in the study of life-writing. By “subjectivity” I mean the individual’s understanding of their status and role in relation to their community, culture, socio-political context, and the operations of power dynamics therein. In contrast “identity” speaks to the sense of self. While TAW and Color share differing literary conceits—one is a space opera, the other is more explicitly biographical—they both explore Sanchez’s subjectivity and can be imagined as a web of connections between recordings (both audio and video), social media, books (comics, art books, novels and scripts), and performances that contribute to a form of transmedia life-writing. Life-writing is generic term that covers “protean forms of contemporary personal narrative” (Eakin 1). These narratives can be articulated across expressive practices, including interviews, profiles, diaries, social media, prose, poetry and so on. Zachary Leader notes in his introduction to On Life-Writing that “theoreticians and historians of life-writing commonly fuse or meld sub-genres [… and this] blurring of distinctions may help to account for life-writing’s growing acceptance as a field of academic study” (1-2). The growing relationship between life-writing and transmedia is therefore unsurprising.This article ties my research considering the construction of subjectivity through transmedia life-writing, with Emma Hill and Máiréad Nic Craith’s consideration of transmedia storytelling’s political potential (87-109). My intention is to determine how readers might construct their own subjectivity to resist oppressive interpellations. Hill and Nic Craith argue that the “lack of closure” in transmedia storyworlds creates “a greater breadth and depth of interpretation … than a single telling could achieve” (104). They conclude that “this expansive quality has allowed the campaigners to continue their activism in a number of different arenas” (104). I contest their assertion that transmedia lacks closure, and instead contend that closure, or the recognition of meaning, inheres with the reader (McCloud 33) rather than in a universalised meaning attributed to the text: transmedia storytelling therefore arouses political potential in reading communities. It is precisely this feature that enables the “expansive quality” valued in political activism. I therefore focus my discussion on the readers of transmedia life-writing, rather than on its writer(s). I argue that in reading a life or lives across multiple media the reader is exposed to the texts’ self-referential citations, its extra-diegetic reiterations, and its contradictions. The reader is invited to make meaning from these citations, reiterations and contradictions; they are positioned to confront the ways in which space and time shape life-writing and subjectivity. Transmedia life-writing can therefore empower readers to invoke critical reading practices.The reader’s agency offers the potential for resistance and revolution. This agency is invited in Color where readers are asked to straddle the fictional world of TAW and the “real” world. The Unravelling Palette of Dawn (2015) is the literary narrative that parallels this album. The book is written by Chondra Echert, Sanchez’s collaborator and wife, and is an amalgam of personal essay and photo-book. It opens by invoking the space opera that informs The Amory Wars: “Sector.12, Paris, Earth. A man and a woman sit in a café debating their fate” (n.p.). This situates the reader in the fictional world of TAW, but also brings the reader into the mundanity and familiarity of a discussion between two people. The reader is witness to a discussion between intimates that focusses on the question of “where to from here.” The idea of “fate” is either misunderstood or misapplied: fate is predetermined, and undebatable. The reader is therefore positioned to remember the band’s previous “concept,” and juxtapose it against a new “realistic” trajectory: fictional characters might have a fate that is determined by their writer, but does that fate extend to the writer themselves? To what extent is Sanchez and Echert’s auto/biography crafted by writers other than themselves?The opening passage provides a skin for the protagonists of the essay, enabling a fantastical space within which Echert and Sanchez might cloak themselves, as they have done throughout TAW. However, this conceit is peeled away on the second page:This might have been the story you find yourself holding. A Sci-fi tale, shrouded in fiction. The real life details modified. All names changed. Threads neatly tied up at the end and altered for the sake of ego and feelings.But the truth is rarely so well planned. The story isn’t filled with epic action scenes or glossed-over romance. Reality is gritty and mucky and thrown together in the last seconds. It’s painful. It is not beautiful … and so it is. The events that inspired this record are acutely personal. (n.p.)In this passage Echert makes reference to the method of storytelling employed throughout the texts that make up TAW. She lays bare the shroud of fiction that covers the lived realities of her and her husband’s lives. She goes on to note that their lives have been interpreted “to fit the bounds of the concept” (n.p.), that is TAW as a space opera, and that the current album was an opportunity to “pull back the curtain” (n.p.) on this conceit. This narrative is echoed by Sanchez in the documentary component of the project, The Physics of Color (2015). Like Echert, Sanchez locates the narrative’s genesis in Paris, but in the Paris of our own world, where he and Echert finalised the literary component of the band’s previous project, The Afterman (2012). Color, like the previous works, is written as a collaboration, not just between Sanchez and Echert, but also by the other members of the band who contributed to the composition of each track. This collaborative writing is an example of relationality that facilitates a critical space for readers and invites them to consider the ways in which their own subjectivity is constructed.Ivor Goodson and Scherto Gill provide a means of critically engaging with relational reading practices. They position narrative as a tool that can be used to engage in critical self, and social, reflection. Their theory of critical narrative as a form of pedagogy enables readers to shift away from reading Color as auto-fiction and towards reading it as an act of collaborative auto/biography. This transition reflects a shifting imperative from the personal, particularly questions of identity, to the political, to engaging with the web of human relations, in order to explore subjectivity. Given transmedia is generally employed by writers of fantasy and speculative literatures, it can be difficult for readers to negotiate their expectations: transmedia is not just a tool for franchises, but can also be a tool for political resistance.Henry Jenkins initiated the conversation about transmedia reading practices and reality television in his chapters about early seasons of Survivor and American Idol in his book Convergence Culture. He identifies the relationship between viewers and these shows as one that shifts from “real-time interaction toward asynchronous participation” (59): viewers continue their engagement with the shows even when they are not watching a broadcast. Hill and Nic Craith provide a departure from literary and media studies approaches to transmedia by utilising an anthropological approach to understanding storyworlds. They maintain that both media studies and anthropological methodologies “recognize that storytelling is a continually contested act between different communities (whether media communities or social communities), and that the final result is indicative of the collective rather than the individual” (88–89). They argue that this collectivity results from “negotiated meaning” between the text and members of the reading community. This is a recognition of the significance held by readers of life-writing regarding the “biographical contract” (Lejeune 22) resulting from the “rationally motivated inter subjective recognition of norms” (Habermas n.p.). Collectivity is analogous to relationality: the way in which the readers’ subjectivity is impacted upon by their engagement with the storyworld, helixed with the writer(s) of transmedia life-writing having their subjectivity impacted upon by their engagement with reader responses to their developing texts. However, the term “relationality” is used to slightly different effect in both transmedia and life-writing studies. Colin Harvey’s definition of transmedia storytelling as relational emphasises the relationships between different media “with the wider storyworld in question, and by extension the wider culture” (2). This can be juxtaposed with Paul John Eakin’s assertion that life-writing as a genre that requires interaction between the author and their audience: “autobiography of the self but the biography and autobiography of the other” (58). It seems to me that the differing articulations of “relationality” arising from both life-writing and transmedia scholarship rely on, but elide, the relationship between the reader and the storyworld. In both instances it is left to the reader to make meaning from the text, both in terms of understanding the subject(s) represented in relation to their own, and also as the nexus between the transmedia text, the storyworld, and the broader culture. The readers’ own experiences, their memories, are central to this relationality.The song “Colors” (2015), which Echert notes in her essay was the first song to be written for the album, chronicles the anxieties that arose after Sanchez and Echert discovered that their home (which they had been leasing out) had been significantly damaged by their tenants. In the documentary The Physics of Color, both Echert and Sanchez speak about this song as a means for Sanchez to reassert his identity as a musician after an extended period where he struggled with the song-writing process. The song is pared back, the staccato guitar in the introduction echoing a similar theme in the introduction to the song “The Afterman” (2012) which was released on the band’s previous album. This tonal similarity, the plucked electric guitar and the shared rhythm, provides a sense of thoroughness between the songs, inviting the listener to remember the ways in which the music on Color is in conversation with the previous albums. This conversation is significant: it relies on the reader’s experience of their own memory. In his book Fantastic Transmedia, Colin Harvey argues that memories are “the mechanisms by which the ‘storyworld’ was effectively sewn together, helping create a common diegetic space for me—and countless others—to explore” (viii). Both readers’ and creators’ experiences of personal and political time and space in relation to the storyworld challenge traditional understandings of readers’ agency in relation to the storyworld, and this challenge can be abstracted to frame the reader’s agency in relation to other economic, political, and social manifestations of power.In “The Audience” Sanchez sings:This is my audience, forever oneTogether burning starsCut from the same diseaseEver longing what and who we areIn the documentary, Sanchez states that this song is an acknowledgement that he, the band and their audience are “one and the same in [their] oddity, and it’s like … family.” Echert echoes this, referring to the intimate relationships built with fans over the years at conventions, shows and through social media: “they’ve superseded fandom and become a part of this extended family.” Readers come to this song with the memory of TAW: the memory of “burning Star IV,” a line that is included in the titles of two of Coheed’s albums (Good Apollo, I’m Burning Star IV Vols. 1 (2005) and 2 (2007), and to the Monstar disease that is referenced throughout Second Stage Turbine Blade, both the album (2002) and the comic books (2010). As a depiction of his destabilised identity however, the lyrics can also be read as a poetic commentary on Sanchez’s experiences with renegotiating his subjectivity: his status as an identity that gains its truth through consensus with others, an audience who is “ever longing what and who we are.” In the documentary Sanchez states “I could do the concept thing again with this album, you know, take it and manipulate it and make it this other sort of dimension … but this one … it means so much more to be … I really wanted this to be exposed, I really want this to be my story.” Sanchez imagines that his story, its truth, its sacredness, is contingent on its exposure on being shared with an audience. For Sanchez his subjectivity arises from on his relationality with his audience. This puts the reader at the centre of the storyworld. The assertion of subjectivity arises as a result of community.However, there is an uncertainty that floats in the lacunae between the texts contributing to the Color storyworld. As noted, in the documentary, both Echert and Sanchez speak lovingly of their relationships with Coheed audiences, but Sanchez goes on to acknowledge that “there’s a little bit of darkness in there too, that I don’t know if I want to bring up… I’ll keep that a mystery,” and some of the “The Audience” lyrics hint at a more sinister relationship between the audience and the band:Thieves of our timeWatch as they rape your integrityMarch as the beat suggests.One reader, Hecatonchair, discusses these lyrics in a Reddit post responding to “The Audience”. They write:The lyrics are pretty aggressive, and could easily be read as an attack against either the music industry or the fans. Considering the title and chorus, I think the latter is who it was intended to reach, but both interpretations are valid.This acknowledgement by the poster that there the lyrics are polyvalent speaks to the decisions that readers are positioned to make in responding to the storyworld.This phrase makes explicit the inconsistency between what Sanchez says about the band’s fans, and what he feels. It is left to the reader to account for this inconsistency between the song lyrics and the writers’ assertions. Hecatonchair and the five readers who respond to their post all write that they enjoy the song, regardless of what they read as its aggressive position on the band’s relationship with them as audience members. In identifying as both audience members and readers with different interpretations, the Reddit commentators recognise their identities in intersecting communities, and demonstrate their agency as subjects. Goodson and Gill invoke Charles Taylor’s assertion that one of the defining elements of “identity” is a “defining community,” that is “identity is lived in social and historical particulars, such as the literature, philosophy, religious teaching and great conversations taking place along one’s life’s journeys” (Goodson and Gill 27).Harvey identified readers as central to transmedia practices. In reading a life across multiple media readers assert agency within the storyworld: they choose which texts to engage with, and how and when to engage with them. They must remember, or more specifically re-member, the life or lives with which they are engaging. This re-membering is an evocative metaphor: it could be described as Frankensteinian, the bringing together of texts and media through a reading that is stretched across the narrative, like the creature’s yellow skin. It also invokes older stories of death (the author’s) and resurrection (of the author, by the reader): the murder and dismemberment of Osiris by his brother Set, and Isis, Osiris's wife, who rejoins the fragmented pieces of Osiris, and briefly brings him back.Coheed and Cambria regularly cite musical themes or motifs across their albums, while song lyrics are quoted in the text of comic books and the novel. The readers recognise and weave together these citations with the more explicitly autobiographical writing in Color. Readers are positioned to critique the function of a canonical truth underpinning the storyworld: whose life is being told? Sanchez invokes memory throughout the album by incorporating soundscapes, such as the sounds of a train-line on the song “Island.” Sanchez notes he and his wife would hear these sounds as they took the train from their home in Brooklyn to the island of Manhattan. Sanchez brings his day-to-day experiences to his readers as overlapping but not identical accounts of perspectives. They enable a plurality of truths and destabilise the Western focus on a singular or universal truth of lived experience.When life-writing is constructed transmedially the author must—of necessity—relinquish control over their story’s temporality. This includes both the story’s internal and external temporalities. By internal temporality I am referring to the manner in which time plays out within the story: given that the reader can enter into and engage with the story through a number of media, the responsibility for constructing the story’s timeline lies with the reader; they may therefore choose, or only be able, to engage with the story’s timeline in a haphazard, rather than a chronological, manner. For example, in Sanchez’ previous work, TAW, comic book components of the storyworld were often released years after the albums with which they were paired. Readers can only engage with the timelines as they are published, as they loop back through and between the storyworld’s temporality.The different media—CD, comic, novel, or art-book—often represent different perspectives or experiences within the same or at least within overlapping internal temporalities: significant incidences are narrated between the media. This results in an unstable external temporality, over which the author, again, has no control. The reader may listen to the music before reading the book, or the other way around, but reading the book and listening to the music simultaneously may not be feasible, and may detract from the experience of engaging with each aspect of the storyworld. This brings us back to the importance of memory to readers of transmedia narratives: they must remember in order to, as Harvey says, stitch together a common “diegetic space.” Although the author often relinquishes control to the external temporality of the text, placing the reader in control of the internal temporality of their life-writing destabilises the authority that is often attributed to an auto/biographer. It also makes explicit that transmedia life-writing is an ongoing project. This allows the author(s) to account for “a reflexive process where individuals take the opportunity to evaluate their actions in connection with their intentions and thus ‘write a further part’ of their histories” (Goodson and Gill 33).Goodson and Gill note that “life’s events are never linear and any intention for life to be coherent and progressive in accordance with a ‘plan’ will constantly be interrupted” (30). This is why transmedia offers writers and readers a more authentic means of engaging with life-writing. Its weblike structure enables readers to view subjectivity through a number of lenses: transmedia life-writing narrates a relational subjectivity that resists attempts at delineation. There is still a “continuity” that arises when Sanchez invokes the storyworld’s self-referential citations, reiterations, and contradictions in order to “[define] narratives within a temporal, social and cultural framework” (Goodson and Gill 29), however transmedia life-writing refuses to limit itself, or its readers, to the narratives of space and time that regulate mono-medial life-writing. Instead it positions readers to “unmask the world and then change it” (43).ReferencesArendt, Hannah. The Human Condition. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1958.Coheed and Cambria. Second Stage Turbine Blade. New York: Equal Vision Records, 2002.———. In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth: 3. New York: Equal Vision Records, 2003.———. Good Apollo I’m Burning Star IV, Vol. 1: From Fear through the Eyes of Madness. New York: Columbia, 2005.———. Good Apollo I’m Burning Star IV, Vol. 2: No World for Tomorrow. New York: Columbia, 2007.———. The Year of the Black Rainbow. New York: Columbia, 2010.———. The Afterman: Ascension. Los Angeles: Hundred Handed/Everything Evil, 2012.———. The Afterman: Descension. Los Angeles: Hundred Handed/Everything Evil, 2013.———. The Colour before the Sun. Brooklyn: the bag.on-line.adventures and Everything Evil Records, 2015.———. “The Physics of Color” Documentary DVD. Brooklyn: Everything Evil Records, 2015. Eakin, Paul John. How Our Lives Become Stories: Making Selves. Ithaca: Cornell UP, 1999. ———. The Ethics of Life Writing. Ithaca: Cornell UP, 2004.Echert, Chondra. The Unravelling Palette of Dawn. Brooklyn: the bag.on-line.adventures and Everything Evil Records, 2015.Goodson, Ivor, and Scherto Gill. Critical Narrative as Pedagogy. London: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2014.Habermas, Jürgen. The Theory of Communicative Action, Vol. 1: Reason and the Rationalisation of Society. Trans. Thomas McCarthy. Cambridge: Polity Press, 1984.Harvey, Colin. Fantastic Transmedia: Narrative, Play and Memory Across Science-Fiction and Fantasy Storyworlds. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015.Hecatonchair. “r/TheFence's Song of the Day Database Update Day 9: The Audience”. 11 Feb. 2018 <https://www.reddit.com/r/TheFence/comments/4eno9o/rthefences_song_of_the_day_database_update_day_9/>.Hill, Emma, and Máiréad Nic Craith. “Medium and Narrative Change: The Effects of Multiple Media on the ‘Glasgow Girls’ Story and Their Real-Life Campaign.” Narrative Culture 3.1 (2016). 9 Dec. 2017 <http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.13110/narrcult.3.1.0087>.Jenkins, Henry. Convergence Culture: Where Old and New Media Collide. New York: New York UP, 2006.Leader, Zachary, ed. On Life-Writing. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2015.Lejeune, Philippe, and Paul John Eakin, eds. On Autobiography. Trans. Katherine Leary. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1989.McCloud, Scott. Understanding Comics: The Invisible Art, New York: Harper Perennial, 1994.Sanchez, Claudio, and Gus Vasquez. The Amory Wars Sketchbook. Los Angeles: Evil Ink Comics, 2006.———, Gus Vasquez, et al. The Amory Wars: The Second Stage Turbine Blade Ultimate Edition. Los Angeles: BOOM! Studios, 2010.———, Peter David, Chris Burnham, et al. In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth: 3 Ultimate Edition. Los Angeles: BOOM! Studios, 2010.———, and Christopher Shy. Good Apollo I’m Burning Star IV, Vol. 1: From Fear through the Eyes of Madness. Los Angeles: Evil Ink Comics, 2005.———, and Peter David. Year of the Black Rainbow. Nashville: Evil Ink Books, 2010.———, and Nathan Spoor, The Afterman. Los Angeles: Evil Ink Comics/Hundred Handed Inc., 2012.

1. A Minor Philosopher According to Guattari and Deleuze's definition, a 'minor literature' is the literature of a minority that makes use of a major language, a literature which deterritorialises that language and interconnects meanings of the most disparate levels, inseparably mixing and implicating poetic, psychological, social and political issues with each other. In analogy, the Japanese media theorist Toshiya Ueno has refered to Félix Guattari as a 'minor philosopher'. Himself a practicing psychoanalyst, Guattari was a foreigner to the Grand Nation of Philosophy, whose natives mostly treat him like an unworthy bastard. And yet he has established a garden of minor flowers, of mongrel weeds and rhizomes that are as polluting to philosophy as Kafka's writing has been to German literature (cf. Deleuze & Guattari, Kafka). The strategies of 'being minor' are, as exemplified by Guattari's writings (with and without Deleuze), deployed in multiple contexts: intensification, re-functionalisation, estrangement, transgression. The following offers a brief overview over the way in which Guattari conceptualises media, new technologies and art, as well as descriptions of several media art projects that may help to illustrate the potentials of such 'minor machines'. Without wanting to pin these projects down as 'Guattarian' artworks, I suggest that the specific practices of contemporary media artists can point us in the direction of the re-singularising, deterritorialising and subjectifying forces which Guattari indicated as being germane to media technologies. Many artists who work with media technologies do so through strategies of appropriation and from a position of 'being minor': whenever a marginality, a minority, becomes active, takes the word power (puissance de verbe), transforms itself into becoming, and not merely submitting to it, identical with its condition, but in active, processual becoming, it engenders a singular trajectory that is necessarily deterritorialising because, precisely, it's a minority that begins to subvert a majority, a consensus, a great aggregate. As long as a minority, a cloud, is on a border, a limit, an exteriority of a great whole, it's something that is, by definition, marginalised. But here, this point, this object, begins to proliferate ..., begins to amplify, to recompose something that is no longer a totality, but that makes a former totality shift, detotalises, deterritorialises an entity.' (Guattari, "Pragmatic/Machinic") In the context of media art, 'becoming minor' is a strategy of turning major technologies into minor machines. a. Krzysztof Wodiczko (PL/USA): Alien Staff Krzysztof Wodiczko's Alien Staff is a mobile communication system and prosthetic instrument which facilitates the communication of migrants in their new countries of residence, where they have insufficient command of the local language for communicating on a par with the native inhabitants. Alien Staff consists of a hand-held staff with a small video monitor and a loudspeaker at the top. The operator can adjust the height of the staff's head to be at a level with his or her own head. Via the video monitor, the operator can replay pre-recorded elements of an interview or a narration of him- or herself. The recorded material may contain biographical information when people have difficulties constructing coherent narratives in the foreign language, or it may include the description of feelings and impressions which the operator normally doesn't get a chance to talk about. The Staff is used in public places where passers-by are attracted to listen to the recording and engage in a conversation with the operator. Special transparent segments of the staff contain memorabilia, photographs or other objects which indicate a part of the personal history of the operator and which are intended to instigate a conversation. The Alien Staff offers individuals an opportunity to remember and retell their own story and to confront people in the country of immigration with this particular story. The Staff reaffirms the migrant's own subjectivity and re-singularises individuals who are often perceived as representative of a homogenous group. The instrument displaces expectations of the majority audience by articulating unformulated aspects of the migrant's subjectivity through a medium that appears as the attractive double of an apparently 'invisible' person. 2. Mass Media, New Technologies and 'Planetary Computerisation' Guattari's comments about media are mostly made in passing and display a clearly outlined opinion about the role of media in contemporary society: a staunch critique of mass media is coupled with an optimistic outlook to the potentials of a post-medial age in which new technologies can develop their singularising, heterogenic forces. The latter development is, as Guattari suggests, already discernible in the field of art and other cultural practices making use of electronic networks, and can lead to a state of 'planetary computerisation' in which multiple new subject-groups can emerge. Guattari consistently refers to the mass media with contempt, qualifying them as a stupefying machinery that is closely wedded to the forces of global capitalism, and that is co-responsible for much of the reactionary hyper-individualism, the desperation and the "state of emergency" that currently dominates "four-fifth of humanity" (Guattari, Chaosmosis 97; cf. Guattari, Drei Ökologien 16, 21). Guattari makes a passionate plea for a new social ecology and formulates, as one step towards this goal, the necessity, "to guide these capitalist societies of the age of mass media into a post-mass medial age; by this I mean that the mass media have to be reappropriated by a multiplicity of subject-groups who are able to administer them on a path of singularisation" (Guattari, "Regimes" 64). Guattari consistently refers to the mass media with contempt, qualifying them as a stupefying machinery that is closely wedded to the forces of global capitalism, and that is co-responsible for much of the reactionary hyper-individualism, the desperation and the "state of emergency" that currently dominates "four-fifth of humanity" (Guattari, Chaosmosis 97; cf. Guattari, Drei Ökologien 16, 21). Guattari makes a passionate plea for a new social ecology and formulates, as one step towards this goal, the necessity, "to guide these capitalist societies of the age of mass media into a post-mass medial age; by this I mean that the mass media have to be reappropriated by a multiplicity of subject-groups who are able to administer them on a path of singularisation" (Guattari, "Regimes" 64). b. Seiko Mikami (J/USA): World, Membrane and the Dismembered Body An art project that deals with the cut between the human subject and the body, and with the deterritorialisation of the sense of self, is Seiko Mikami's World, Membrane and the Dismembered Body. It uses the visitor's heart and lung sounds which are amplified and transformed within the space of the installation. These sounds create a gap between the internal and external sounds of the body. The project is presented in an-echoic room where sound does not reverberate. Upon entering this room, it is as though your ears are no longer living while paradoxically you also feel as though all of your nerves are concentrated in your ears. The sounds of the heart, lungs, and pulse beat are digitised by the computer system and act as parameters to form a continuously transforming 3-d polygonal mesh of body sounds moving through the room. Two situations are effected in real time: the slight sounds produced by the body itself resonate in the body's internal membranes, and the transfigured resonance of those sounds is amplified in the space. A time-lag separates both perceptual events. The visitor is overcome by the feeling that a part of his or her corporeality is under erasure. The body exists as abstract data, only the perceptual sense is aroused. The visitor is made conscious of the disappearance of the physical contours of his or her subjectivity and thereby experiences being turned into a fragmented body. The ears mediate the space that exists between the self and the body. Mikami's work fragments the body and its perceptual apparatus into data, employing them as interfaces and thus folding the body's horizon back onto itself. The project elucidates the difference between an actual and a virtual body, the actual body being deterritorialised and projected outwards towards a number of potential, virtual bodies that can, in the installation, be experienced as maybe even more 'real' than the actual body. 3. Artistic Practice Guattari's conception of post-media implies criss-crossing intersections of aesthetic, ethical, political and technological planes, among which the aesthetic, and with it artistic creativity, are ascribed a position of special prominence. This special role of art is a trope that recurs quite frequently in Guattari's writings, even though he is rarely specific about the artistic practices he has in mind. In A Thousand Plateaus, Deleuze and Guattari give some detailled attention to the works of artists like Debussy, Boulez, Beckett, Artaud, Kafka, Kleist, Proust, and Klee, and Chaosmosis includes longer passages and concrete examples for the relevance of the aesthetic paradigm. These examples come almost exclusively from the fields of performing arts, music and literature, while visual arts are all but absent. One reason for this could be that the performing arts are time-based and processual and thus lend themselves much better to theorisation of flows, transformations and differentiations. The visual arts can be related to the abstract machine of faciality (visageité) which produces unified, molar, identical entities out of a multiplicity of different singularities, assigning them to a specific category and associating them with particular social fields (cf. Deleuze & Guattari, Tausend Plateaus 167-91) This semiotic territorialisation is much more likely to happen in the case of static images, whether two- or three-dimensional, than in time-based art forms. An interesting question, then, would be whether media art projects, many of which are time-based, processual and open-ended, can be considered as potential post-medial art practices. Moreover, given the status of computer software as the central motor of the digital age, and the crucial role it plays in aesthetic productions like those discussed here, software may have to be viewed as the epitome of post-medial machines. Guattari seems to have been largely unaware of the beginnings of digital media art as it developed in the 1980s. In generalistic terms he suggests that the artist is particularly well-equipped to conceptualise the necessary steps for this work because, unlike engineers, he or she is not tied to a particular programme or plan for a product, and can change the course of a project at any point if an unexpected event or accident intrudes (cf. Guattari, Drei Ökologien 50). The significance of art for Guattari's thinking comes primarily from its close relation with processes of subjectivation. "Just as scientific machines constantly modify our cosmic frontiers, so do the machines of desire and aesthetic creation. As such, they hold an eminent place within assemblages of subjectivation, themselves called to relieve our old social machines which are incapable of keeping up with the efflorescence of machinic revolutions that shatter our epoch' (Guattari, Chaosmosis 54). The aesthetic paradigm facilitates the development of new, virtual forms of subjectivity, and of liberation, which will be adequate to these machinic revolutions. c. Knowbotic Research + cF: IO_Dencies The Alien Staff project was mentioned as an example for the re-singularisation and the virtualisation of identity, and World, Membrane and the Dismembered Body as an instance of the deterritorialisation and virtualisation of the human body through an artistic interface. The recent project by Knowbotic Research, IO_Dencies -- Questioning Urbanity, deals with the possibilities of agency, collaboration and construction in translocal and networked environments. It points in the direction of what Guattari has called the formation of 'group subjects' through connective interfaces. The project looks at urban settings in different megacities like Tokyo, São Paulo or the Ruhr Area, analyses the forces present in particular local urban situations, and offers experimental interfaces for dealing with these local force fields. IO_Dencies São Paulo enables the articulation of subjective experiences of the city through a collaborative process. Over a period of several months, a group of young architects and urbanists from São Paulo, the 'editors', provided the content and dynamic input for a database. The editors collected material (texts, images, sounds) based on their current situation and on their personal urban experience. A specially designed editor tool allowed the editors to build individual conceptual 'maps' in which to construct the relations between the different materials in the data-pool according to the subjective perception of the city. On the computational level, connectivities are created between the different maps of the editors, a process that is driven by algorithmic self-organisation whose rules are determined by the choices that the editors make. In the process, the collaborative editorial work in the database generates zones of intensities and zones of tension which are visualised as force fields and turbulences and which can be experienced through interfaces on the Internet and at physical exhibition sites. Participants on the Net and in the exhibition can modify and influence these electronic urban movements, force fields and intensities on an abstract, visual level, as well as on a content-based, textual level. This engagement with the project and its material is fed back into the database and influences the relational forces within the project's digital environment. Characteristic of the forms of agency as they evolve in networked environments is that they are neither individualistic nor collective, but rather connective. Whereas the collective is determined by an intentional and empathetic relation between agents within an assemblage, the connective rests on any kind of machinic relation and is therefore more versatile, more open, and based on the heterogeneity of its components or members. In the IO_Dencies interfaces, the different networked participants become visible for each other, creating a trans-local zone of connective agency. The inter-connectedness of their activities can be experienced visually, acoustically, and through the constant reconfiguration of the data sets, an experience which can become the basis of the formation of a specific, heterogeneous group subject. 4. Guattari's Concept of the Machinic An important notion underlying these analyses is that of the machine which, for Guattari, relates not so much to particular technological or mechanical objects, to the technical infrastructure or the physical flows of the urban environment. 'Machines' can be social bodies, industrial complexes, psychological or cultural formations, they are assemblages of heterogeneous parts, aggregations which transform forces, articulate and propel their elements, and force them into a continuous state of transformation and becoming. An important notion underlying these analyses is that of the machine which, for Guattari, relates not so much to particular technological or mechanical objects, to the technical infrastructure or the physical flows of the urban environment. 'Machines' can be social bodies, industrial complexes, psychological or cultural formations, they are assemblages of heterogeneous parts, aggregations which transform forces, articulate and propel their elements, and force them into a continuous state of transformation and becoming. d. Xchange Network My final example is possibly the most evocative in relation to Guattari's notions of the polyvocity and heterogenesis that new media technologies can trigger. It also links up closely with Guattari's own engagement with the minor community radio movement. In late 1997, the E-Lab in Riga initiated the Xchange network for audio experiments on the Internet. The participating groups in London, Ljubljana, Sydney, Berlin, and many other minor and major places, use the Net for distributing their original sound programmes. The Xchange network is "streaming via encoders to remote servers, picking up the stream and re-broadcasting it purely or re-mixed, looping the streams" (Rasa Smite). Xchange is a distributed group, a connective, that builds creative cooperation in live-audio streaming on the communication channels that connect them. They explore the Net as a sound-scape with particular qualities regarding data transmission, delay, feedback, and open, distributed collaborations. Moreover, they connect the network with a variety of other fields. Instead of defining an 'authentic' place of their artistic work, they play in the transversal post-medial zone of media labs in different countries, mailing lists, net-casting and FM broadcasting, clubs, magazines, stickers, etc., in which 'real' spaces and media continuously overlap and fuse (cf. Slater). 5. Heterogenic Practices If we want to understand the technological and the political implications of the machinic environment of the digital networks, and if we want to see the emergence of the group subjects of the post-media age Guattari talks about, we have to look at connectives like Xchange and the editor-participant assemblages of IO_Dencies. The far-reaching machinic transformations which they articulate, hold the potential of what Guattari refers to as the 'molecular revolution'. To realise this revolution, it is vital to "forge new analytical instruments, new concepts, because it is ... the transversality, the crossing of abstract machines that constitute a subjectivity and that are incarnated, that live in very different regions and domains and ... that can be contradictory and antagonistic". For Guattari, this is not a mere theoretical question, but one of experimentation, "of new forms of interactions, of movement construction that respects the diversity, the sensitivities, the particularities of interventions, and that is nonetheless capable of constituting antagonistic machines of struggle to intervene in power relations" (Guattari, "Pragmatic/Machinic" 4-5). The implication here is that some of the minor media practices pursued by artists using digital technologies point us in the direction of the positive potentials of post media. The line of flight of such experimentation is the construction of new and strong forms of subjectivity, "an individual and/or collective reconstitution of the self" (Guattari, Drei Ökologien 21), which can strengthen the process of what Guattari calls "heterogenesis, that is a continuous process of resingularisation. The individuals must, at the same time, become solidary and ever more different" (Guattari, Drei Ökologien 76). References Deleuze, Gilles, and Felix Guattari. Kafka: Pour une Litterature Mineur. Paris: Ed. de Minuit, 1975. ---. Tausend Plateaus. (1980) Berlin: Merve, 1992. Guattari, Félix. Cartographies Schizoanalytiques. Paris: Ed. Galilée, 1989. ---. Chaosmosis: An Ethico-Aesthetic Paradigm. (1992) Sydney: Power Publications, 1995. ---. Die drei Ökologien. (1989) Wien: Passagen Verlag, 1994. ---. "Pragmatic/Machinic." Discussion with Guattari, conducted and transcribed by Charles J. Stivale. (1985) Pre/Text 14.3-4 (1995). ---. "Regimes, Pathways, Subjects." Die drei Ökologien. (1989) Wien: Passagen Verlag, 1994. 95-108. ---. "Über Maschinen." (1990) Schmidgen, 115-32. Knowbotic Research. IO_Dencies. 1997-8. 11 Sep. 1999 <http://io.khm.de/>. De Landa, Manuel. "The Machinic Phylum." Technomorphica. Eds. V2_Organisation. Rotterdam: V2_Organisation, 1997. Mikami, Seiko. World, Membrane and the Dismembered Body. 1997. 11 Sep. 1999 <http://www.ntticc.or.jp/permanent/mikami/mikami_e.php>. Schmidgen, Henning, ed. Ästhetik und Maschinismus: Texte zu und von Félix Guattari. Berlin: Merve, 1995. ---. Das Unbewußte der Maschinen: Konzeptionen des Psychischen bei Guattari, Deleuze und Lacan. München: Fink, 1997. Slater, Howard. "Post-Media Operators." Nettime, 10 June 1998. 11 Sep. 1999 <http://www.factory.org>. Wodiczko, Krzysztof. 11 Sep. 1999 <http://cavs.mit.edu/people/kw.htm>. Xchange. 11 Sep. 1999 <http://xchange.re-lab.net>. (Note: An extended, Dutch version of this text was published in: Oosterling/Thissen, eds. Chaos ex Machina: Het ecosofisch Werk van Félix Guattari op de Kaart Gezet. Rotterdam: CFK, 1998. Citation reference for this article MLA style: Andreas Broeckmann. "Minor Media -- Heterogenic Machines: Notes on Félix Guattari's Conceptions of Art and New Media." M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 2.6 (1999). [your date of access] <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9909/minor.php>. Chicago style: Andreas Broeckmann, "Minor Media -- Heterogenic Machines: Notes on Félix Guattari's Conceptions of Art and New Media," M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 2, no. 6 (1999), <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9909/minor.php> ([your date of access]). APA style: Andreas Broeckmann. (1999) Minor Media -- Heterogenic Machines: Notes on Félix Guattari's Conceptions of Art and New Media. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 2(6). <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9909/minor.php> ([your date of access]).