Artykuły w czasopismach na temat „Parallel corpora identification”

Abstract The research devoted to special languages as well as the activities carried out in specialized translation classes tend to focus primarily on one-word or multi-word terminological units. However, a very important part in the making of specialist registers and texts is played by specialised collocations, i.e. relatively stable word combinations that do not designate concepts but are nevertheless of frequent use in a given field of activity. This is why helping students acquire competences relative to the identification and processing of collocations should become an important objective in specialised translation classes. An easily accessible and dependable resource that may be successfully used to this purpose is represented by corpora and corpus analysis tools, whose usefulness in translator training has been highlighted by numerous studies. This article proposes a series of practical, task-based activities-developed with the help of a small-size parallel corpus of specialised texts-that aim to raise the translation trainees′ awareness of the collocations present in specialised texts and to provide suggestions about their processing in translation.

The research described in this paper is rooted in the endeavors to combine the advantages of corpus-based and rule-based MT approaches in order to improve the performance of MT systems—most importantly, the quality of translation. The authors review the ongoing activities in the field and present a case study, which shows how translation knowledge can be drawn from parallel corpora and compiled into the lexicon of a rule-based MT system. These data are obtained with the help of three procedures: (1) identification of hence unknown one-word translations, (2) statistical rating of the known one-word translations, and (3) extraction of new translations of multiword expressions (MWEs) followed by compilation steps which create new rules for the MT engine. As a result, the lexicon is enriched with translation equivalents attested for different subject domains, which facilitates the tuning of the MT system to a specific subject domain and improves the quality and adequacy of translation.

Abstract In this article we discuss the current state-of-the-art for named entity recognition for Polish. We present publicly available resources and open-source tools for named entity recognition. The overview includes various kind of resources, i.e. guidelines, annotated corpora (NKJP, KPWr, CEN, PST) and lexicons (NELexiconS, PNET, Gazetteer). We present the major NER tools for Polish (Sprout, NERF, Liner2, Parallel LSTM-CRFs and PolDeepNer) and discuss their performance on the reference datasets. In the article we cover identification of named entity mentions in the running text, local and global entity categorization, fine- and coarse-grained categorization and lemmatization of proper names.

Slavic languages and the Lithuanian language in the Clarin-PL parallel corporaThe Clarin Eric and Clarin-PL strategic scientific purpose is to support humanistic research in a multicultural and multilingual Europe. Polish researchers put the emphasis on building a bridge between the Polish language and Polish linguistic technologies and other European languages and their linguistic technologies. So far, the Polish scientific community has mainly focused on Polish-English connections. Clarin-PL has been developing the first and only multilingual corpora of the Polish language in conjunction with other Slavic languages and the Lithuanian language: the Polish-Bulgarian-Russian Parallel Corpus and the Polish- Lithuanian Parallel Corpus. The parallel corpora created by the ISS PAS Corpus Linguistics and Semantics Team break through the existing “canons” and allow scientists access to interlinked multilingual language resources – in the first phase limited to the languages of the three Slavic groups and the Lithuanian language. In the article, the authors present very detailed information on their original system of the semantic annotation of scope quantification in multilingual parallel corpora, hitherto unused in the subject literature. Due to the system’s originality, the semantic annotation is carried out manually. Identification of particular values of scope quantification in a sentence and the hereby presented attempts of its recording are supported by long-term research conducted by an international team of linguists and computer scientists / mathematicians developing the issue of quantification of names, time and aspect in natural languages. Języki słowiańskie i litewski w korpusach równoległych Clarin-PLStrategicznym celem naukowym Clarin ERIC i Clarin-PL jest wspieranie badań humanistycznych w wielokulturowej i wielojęzycznej Europie. Dla polskich badaczy ważna jest budowa pomostu między językiem polskim, polskimi technologiami językowymi a innymi językami europejskimi i na ich rzecz opracowanymi technologiami językowymi. Dotychczas w nauce polskiej największy nacisk był kładziony na powiązania polsko-angielskie. Clarin-PL opracowuje zatem pierwsze jak dotąd wielojęzyczne korpusy języka polskiego w zestawieniu z innymi językami słowiańskimi oraz z językiem litewskim: Korpus równoległy polsko-bułgarsko-rosyjski i Korpus równoległy polsko-litewski. Tworzone przez Zespół Lingwistyki Korpusowej i Semantyki (IS PAN) korpusy równoległe przełamują dotychczasowe „kanony” i udostępniają nauce powiązane wielojęzyczne zasoby – w pierwszym etapie ograniczone do języków trzech grup słowiańskich oraz języka litewskiego. W artykule autorzy przedstawiają bardzo szczegółową informację o zastosowanej po raz pierwszy w literaturze przedmiotu anotacji semantycznej dotyczącej kwantyfikacji zakresowej w wielojęzycznych korpusach równoległych. Z powodu swojego rozległego zakresu i nowatorstwa ta anotacja semantyczna jest nanoszona ręcznie. Identyfikacja poszczególnych wartości kwantyfikacji zakresowej w zdaniu oraz przedstawiane tu próby jej zapisu są poparte wieloletnimi badaniami międzynarodowego zespołu lingwistów i matematyków-informatyków opracowujących zagadnienie kwantyfikacji imion, czasu i aspektu w językach naturalnych.

The study of Babylonian Aramaic magic bowls has undergone something of a renaissance in recent years owing to a wave of new publications which have considerably enriched the corpus of texts now at the reader's disposal. In parallel, significant progress has been made in the identification, publication and study of accurate manuscripts of Babylonian Rabbinic literature. Based upon a close reading of recently published magic bowls from the Moussaieff Collection, this article seeks to indicate how the two corpora are mutually enlightening and dependent. An accurate reading and interpretation of the bowls depends upon an intimate knowledge of Babylonian Aramaic grammar, for which much is to be learnt from the best rabbinic manuscripts. At the same time, the magic bowls confirm the antiquity of many linguistic traits found in these rabbinic sources, and accordingly confirm their status as reliable witnesses to the Talmudic language.

Abstract Drawing on theoretical approaches to personal/group behaviour, and informed by Michael Hoey’s priming theory, this paper presents a corpus-assisted discourse study of European Parliament interventions from 2004 to 2011. The study aims to identify the group in the self and the various selves in the individual. For the analysis, three corpora from the European Comparable and Parallel Corpus Archive are explored: EP_EN (with EP interventions: 26,959,446 tokens), HC (with House of Commons interventions: 70,567,728), and SandD_david_martin (with member of European Parliament – MEP – David Martin’s interventions: 116,781). The main tool of analysis is the keyword, as generated by WordSmith 7.0. The analysis proceeds in three stages: stage 1, where the EP_EN and HC wordlists are compared, resulting in EP key priming; stage 2, where the SandD_david_martin and HC wordlists are compared, exposing David Martin’s idiosyncratic productions; and stage 3, where the EP_EN and SandD_david_martin keyword lists are manually compared, leading to the identification of EP priming in David Martin’s interventions.

Bilingual parallel corpora offer a treasure house of human translator’s knowledge of the correspondences between the two languages. Extracting by automatic means the translation equivalents deemed accurate and contextually appropriate by a human translator is of great practical importance for various fields such as example-based machine translation, computational lexicography, information retrieval, etc. The task of word or phrase level identification is greatly reduced if suitable anchor points can be found in the stream of texts. It is suggested that grammatical morphemes provide very useful clues to finding translation equivalents. They typically form a closed set, occur frequently enough in sentences, have more or less fixed meanings, and, most important, will stand in a one-to-one or at most one-to-few relationship with corresponding elements in the other language. This paper will explore the viability of the idea with reference to the Hungarian and English versions of Plato’s Republic, which are available in sentence-aligned form. Hungarian has a rich set of suffixes which are typically deployed in a concatenated manner. Corresponding to them in English are prepositions, auxiliary words, and suffixes. The paper will show how, by starting from a well defined set of correspondences between Hungarian grammatical morphemes and their equivalents and using a combination of pattern matching and heuristics, one can arrive at a mapping of phrases between the two texts.

We explore the role of charitable giving as a means of political influence. For philanthropic foundations associated with large US corporations, we present three different identification strategies that consistently point to the use of corporate social responsibility in ways that parallel the strategic use of political action committee (PAC) spending. Our estimates imply that 6.3 percent of corporate charitable giving may be politically motivated, an amount 2.5 times larger than annual PAC contributions and 35 percent of federal lobbying. Absent of disclosure requirements, charitable giving may be a form of corporate political influence undetected by voters and subsidized by taxpayers. (JEL D22, D64, D72, L31)

The time gap between public announcement of a vulnerability—its detection and reporting to stakeholders—is an important factor for cybersecurity of corporate networks. A large delay preceding an elimination of a critical vulnerability presents a significant risk to the network security and increases the probability of a sustained damage. Thus, accelerating the process of vulnerability identification and prioritization helps to red the probability of a successful cyberattack. This work introduces a flexible system that collects information about all known vulnerabilities present in the system, gathers data from organizational inventory database, and finally integrates and processes all collected information. Thanks to application of parallel processing and non relational databases, the results of this process are available subject to a negligible delay. The subsequent vulnerability prioritization is performed automatically on the basis of the calculated CVSS 2.0 and 3.1 scores for all scanned assets. The environmental CVSS vector component is evaluated accurately thanks to the fact that the environmental data is imported directly from the organizational inventory database.

Purpose – The purpose of this paper is to propose a roadmap for operationalizing EFQM excellence model based on the RADAR logic and in parallel develop a new concept for selecting the firm-specific EFQM measures based on the level of maturity and the prevailing corporate culture. Design/methodology/approach – A comprehensive review of literature leads to a clarification of the relation between EFQM measures and RADAR logic and also identification of the requirements for assessment of culture and determination of maturity level in the context of EFQM excellence model. Based on these requirements, existing culture assessment approaches and maturity assessment methods have been evaluated. Findings – The main outcome of this research is a new concept for efficient design of EFQM excellence model. This concept consist of three main parts: assessment of culture types in context of EFQM; assessment of maturity level; and design of EFQM measures based on RADAR logic. The findings are expected to reduce the effort for implementation of EFQM by designing tailored measures that fit to the existing culture and maturity level. Practical implications – The findings of this study are relevant to multinational large firms that deal with EFQM or similar excellence models. Originality/value – This paper presents a new concept for designing EFQM in the light of prevailing corporate culture and maturity level, which in one hand needs fewer resources and on the other hand it is more effective in implementation.

Climate change, the deterioration of the environment and exceeding Earth’s carrying capacity are major threats in operating environment which require new actions in industrialized and digitalized society. In parallel with the global deployment of 5th generation (5G) mobile communication networks, the telecommunication community has already started to envision 6G networks that target the year 2030. This paper discusses the unprecedented opportunities in the future 6G ecosystem specifically from the business perspective and applies a futures-oriented scenario planning method utilized in two strategy workshops in 2020. The paper portrays four scenario themes and a total of 16 alternative future scenarios for the business of 6G. Through the identification of key trends, their interactions, and related uncertainties, the scenario development process generates alternative futures where 6G business strategies are then developed and assessed through the business model perspective. Scenarios were created under four themes: user experience, business, sustainability, and geopolitics and they are discussed in terms of economical, societal, and environmental perspectives. The findings of the paper highlight the achievement of a preferred sustainable future that calls for attention to the privacy and security aspects considering business and regulatory needs: public/governmental, corporate, community, and human perspectives and aims of governance; ecosystem configuration related to users, decentralized business models, and platforms; user empowerment; and the role of service location-specificity. The findings indicate that it is vital to bring together relevant stakeholders to solve sustainability problems within the ecosystem and pay special attention to open ecosystem-focused value configuration and decentralized poly-nodal power configuration, while responding to the diversified demands of various users across the different verticals.

The relevance of the article is determined by the appeal to the debatable issues of stylistic differentiation of the works by Claude Debussy and Maurice Ravel as the French musical culture leading representatives of the late 19th and the first third of the 20th centuries. The research reflections about the connections betwen Debussy and Ravel on the principle “for / against” have not subsided for more than a hundred years. This testifies to the special urgency of this problem and the need to search for modern approaches to understanding the artistic identity of two brilliant contemporaries.Scientific novelty. For the first time, the multidirectionality of the composing strategies by Debussy and Ravel is indicated through the the concept of style in its interdisciplinary philosophicalcategorical status and the explanationof its functions of identification and communication in the general cultural understanding (O. Ustyugova). For the first time the difference between the cultural phenomena processes integration in the era of modernism into the new artistic wholes, with unique properties, which is appropriate to define as “Debussy’s style” and “Ravel’s style”, is revealed.The purpose of the article is to reveal the multidirectionality of the composing strategies of Debussy and Ravel through an appeal to the main stylistic functions of identification and communication in general cultural understanding (O. Ustyugova); to designate the non-coincidence of channels of integration of cultural phenomena in the era of modernism into new artistic wholes, which have unique properties such as “Debussy’s style” and “Ravel’s style”.The research methodology includes the use of historical, stylistic, comparative methods.Main results and conclusions. The existing musicological literature emphasizes the influence of romanticism, post-romanticism, impressionism, symbolism, neoclassicism, Art Nouveau, moderne style on the formation of the individual style of Debussy and Ravel. Each of these directions had a certain reflection in the work of composers. However, let us try to highlight in the conceptual space of the many-sided “isms” of the cultural context of the era of modernism the hidden sources of the deployment of the creative intentions of the both brilliant contemporaries. We will choose the fundamental work of E. Ustyugova “Style and Culture: Experience of Building a General Theory of Style” (2003) as a methodological basis for this. E. Ustyugova proposes to go beyond the understanding style as a “migratory structure” (term by J. Rebane) and a convenient “classification tool” (J. Burnham) in structural and typological studies of art and move on to a comprehensive study of the essence of this phenomenon. For this, according to the researcher, it is necessary to carry out two analytical procedures. The first is based on the awareness of the experience of the mismatch between the object and the subject. The second involves considering the style in the aspect of intersubjective communication.With this view on the problem of identifying the patterns of formation and development of cultural phenomena, it is not the nominative parameters and the “herbarization” of genrelinguistic units that come to the fore, but the comprehension of the multilevel subject-object relations that formed these phenomena; “live reproduction” of the matrix of the world perception as channels of communication between the “I” and everything that appears as “not-I”.The creative paths of Debussy and Ravel represent diferent creative strategies. The “pure meaning”, unspeakable by words and free from all earthly, to which Debussy aspired, creates parallels with the texts of symbolist poets and destroy the boundaries between “I” and “not-I”. In the fundamental monographs of French researchers dedicated to the composer an idea has long been entrenched: the composer’s creative laboratory was poetry, and Debussy’s address to the poetic word throughout all his creative decades constantly expanding the semantic horizons of his “artistic realities”.Debussy’s spiritual intentions merged into a single sound-glow in the indivisible space of being. The word in all its dimensions (from literal to metaphysical) indicated the stages of the process of dissolving the personal “I” and going beyond (au-délà) the established forms of artistic expression. Therefore, various kinds of the names (or “afterwords”, as in the Preludes), epigraphs, numerous super-detailed directions remained an integral part of an integral sound structure. His musical language, destroying the connections in time between the past and the future (rejection of the system of functional gravities that should be “stretched” in musical memory), created a certain correspondence (“here and now”) with the phenomenon of being.Hence the following characteristics of the composer’s musical works: 1) the impeccable construction of the whole, which is “thought out to the smallest detail” (E. Denisov), subtle multilevel “correspondences” and symmetries; 2) total thematization of texture (K. Zenkin); 3) selfsufficient semantic expressiveness of the “pure sound forms” (K. Zenkin), which became the embodiment of “an agonizing thirst for undeniably pure” (S. Velikovsky).These properties of Debussy’s style open up the possibility to get into the spiritual dimensions filled with pure beauty, which so attracted the followers of Baudelaire. Using the typology of teh subject-object relations proposed by E. Ustyugova, Debussy’s style can be attributed throughout the paradigm of hidden subjectivity. Debussy was well aware of his “non-romantic” position.The artistic aspirations of Maurice Ravel more clearly resonate with the creative attitudes of Art Nouveau artists, who were looking for new forms of plastic expressiveness mainly in spatial forms of art. It seems that it is with this direction that a special feeling of the plasticity of the musical material and the entire musical composition as a unique phenomenon is associated, which determines the composer’s creative credo.The concept of “plasticity” indicates such a connection between coordinated phenomena, which appears through the reincarnation (transformation) of a certain material substance, when we keep in memory its output characteristics. Ballet works and the reliance on dance genres (and more broadly, various types of plasticity of gesture and movement) reveal the hidden basis of the composer’s thinking. This approach allows one to re-evaluate Ravel’s connections with the ancient heritage (it is symptomatic that the composer called his first “adult” work, devoted to the press, “Antique Minuet”) and to understand the meanings of constant antique reminiscences with which he filled his life.Like a real dandy who lets the vibrations of the world pass through himself, Ravel is sensitive to them and “cuts off” random, “ugly”, “unnecessary” ones. Hence — the special beauty of the artistic structures created by the composer. They are built not in a “filtered” ideal-beautiful dimension, but in the space of shimmering opposites (the corporeal — free from the corporeal, the familiar — the unknown). Ravel’s inherent tendency towards the graphic relief of the melodic line creates parallels with the “famous lines of Art Nouveau” (Fahr-Becker Gabriele) and is especially distinct, characterizes the composer’s later works.The non-everyday register of semantic reverberations of what is happening in the process of metamorphosis in the composer’s music (his plastic questioning about the existential nature of the source material) demanded a special listener’s responsiveness. Mistifications, hiding behind a mask, playing with the listener are Ravel’s usual communication strategies. Therefore, according to the typology of the subject-object relations proposed by E. Ustyugova, we can speak here of the paradigm of “open subjectivity”, which is characterized by the direct orientation of the subject towards himself. Hence — the principle of auto-citation characteristic of Ravel. The quintessence of its use are the composer’s later works — the opera Child and Magic, as well as the Piano Concerto in G major — the Dandy summa summarum of the composer’s previous career.The game of “correspondences” (Baudelaire) was manifested by composers in various ways and conditioned various channels of communication. Debussy makes the semantics of sound education a semantic unit, appeals to the listener with the expressiveness of the structure itself. Therefore he always emphasizes, appeals to the elite listener. Ravel, on the other hand, hides behind masks and theatrical illusions. He needs a listener who has a culture of distance (who owns wide meaning contextual fields). The contextual layers associated with musical texts express that “degree of distance” from the object of attention, which the composer himself chooses and whose parameters are constantly changing. Therefore, Ravel never turns twice in the genre, style or stylistic model he has already used.So, if the works by Debussy can be perceived “from scratch” because of their structural completeness and semantic tightness, then the works by Ravel require the listener to know the musical context and readiness to lay it out “fold by fold” (J. Deleuze) in new semantic projections.At the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries, French culture was looking for a means of creating a “state of resonance” (G. Bachelard) as an extraordinary impression, “awakening”, without which a person cannot take place. Debussy and Ravel moved in this direction. Therefore, only through the identification of all the “correspondences” of the era of a total change of creative guidelines and a departure from unambiguous stylistic “avatars” can one feel its essential discoveries. The study of the lines of intersection of the Debussy music and the Ravel music with various artistic phenomena of the past and the present illuminates certain reflections of the “style of the era”. However understanding the deep patterns of the creative manner of the two contemporaries requires differentiating the definitions of “Debussy’s style” and “Ravel’s style” and their further studying.

In Colombia, citrus is cultivated in mostly small plantings that total 55,000 ha by approximately 25,000 farmers. Production includes 1,200 tons of fresh fruits and 60 tons of juice for domestic consumption, resulting in a net worth of US$650,000 per year. Most of the production comes from areas located between the Cordillera Occidental and Cordillera Central mountain ranges (departments of Antioquia, Caldas, Quindio, and Risaralda) near coffee plantations. The departments of Meta and Casanare, located at the east plains (Llanos Orientales), include a zone parallel (4 to 5°N, 72 to 74°W) to the east mountain range and generate approximately 10% of the total Colombian citrus production. Suspected citrus leprosis symptoms on leaves and fruits of sweet oranges (Citrus sinensis (L.) Osb.) were first observed by plant pathologists for CORPOICA (Colombian National Agricultural Research Organization) in citrus orchards in Casanare in 2003, and later in 2004, in Meta. To confirm the visual identification, leaves and fruits from Valencia sweet orange exhibiting typical lesions of leprosis were collected from several locations in the departments of Casanare (Yopal, Aguazul) and Meta (Guamal, Villavicencio, and Cumaral). Samples were fixed in cacodylate-buffered paraformaldehyde/glutaraldehyde solution and subsequently processed for examination in thin sections using electron microscopy. Samples were processed and examined at the Citrus Research and Educational Center (CREC) of the University of Florida, Lake Alfred, and the Agricultural College (ESALQ) of the Universidade de São Paulo at Piracicaba, SP, Brazil. Some leaf samples collected in Meta were also dried and used for detection of Citrus leprosis virus, cytoplasmic type (CiLV-C) by reverse transcription-polymerase chain reaction (RT-PCR) at the Centro APTA Citros Sylvio Moreira at Cordeirópolis (CAPTACSM). The RT-PCR was performed with primers that specifically amplify a fragment of the viral genome that codes for the putative cell-to-cell movement protein (1). Locations at CREC and ESALQ each observed, using electron microscopy, cell changes characteristic of CiLV-C that include short bacilliform particles in the endoplasmic reticulum and dense, vacuolated, and irregularly shaped viroplasm in the cytoplasm (2) in samples from Casanare and Meta. RT-PCR amplified cDNA fragments of the expected size for samples collected in Meta and one of the amplicons was sequenced (GenBank Accession No. DQ272491). The sequence obtained was found to have 98% nucleotide sequence identity to the Brazilian CiLV-C isolate (GenBank Accession No. AY289190.1). Mites collected from affected plants from the department of Meta were identified at ESALQ as Brevipalpus phoenicis (Geijskes), a known principal vector of CiLV-C (2). These several lines of evidence confirmed that the symptoms observed in sweet oranges at Meta and Casanare are due to the infection by CiLV-C. To our knowledge, this is the first report of this virus in Colombia. References:(1) E. C. Locali et al. Plant Dis. 87:1317, 2003, (2) J. C. V. Rodrigues et al. Exp. Appl. Acarol. 30:161, 2003.

Recently a monograph appeared dealing with Roman epigraphical monuments from the West-Serbian town of Cacak and its neighbourhood (S. Ferjancic / G. Jeremic / A. Gojgic, Roman Epigraphic Monuments from Cacak and its Vicinity Cacak 2008, Engl. Summary pp. 103-107). Authored by one specialist in Roman history and epigraphy and two archaeologists, the book is rather thin and does not provide much new data, apart from the identification of the equestrian officer Tiberius Claudius Gallus with Severus' senator - which was taken from my PhD thesis without citing it - and from two inscriptions, ? 20 and ? 21, forming the subject of the present paper. Published here for the first time, they both contain important information which the co-authors failed to notice. The consuls of 227 A.D. in an inscription from Cacak The ? 21 (fig. 1) was found in the site of Gradina on the mountain Jelica, S. of Cacak. It is engraved on a whitish limestone monument, apparently an ara, the middle and lower parts of which are preserved after it has been reshaped to be used as building material. The four-line inscription was read by the editors as follows: [- - -] Aur(elius) F[- - - v(otum)] l(ibens) p(osuit) Mal+[- - -]et Al[- - - co(n)s(ulibus)] Idibus [- - -]. Unable to identify the pair of consuls mentioned in lines two and three, the authors interpret the inscription as a funerary one: [- - -]Aur(elius or -elio) F[- - - vix(it) ann(is)] L P. Mal+[- - -]et Al[- - - f(ecerunt) ? die ?] Idibus [- - -]. In fact, they misread the final cluster of the line two, by having mistaken for L the long right serif of M (in ligature with A) together with a trace of a subsequent letter, which proves to be an X. The alignment of the letters at the beginning of the lines suggests that the left side of the inscription is entirely preserved. The inscription reads as folows: ] \ Aur(elius) F+[ -] \ l(ibens) p(osuit) Max[imo] \ et Al[bino co(n)s(ulibus)] \ Idibus [ -]. M. Laelius Maximus Aemilianus (PIR2 L56) - probably son of Marcus Laelius Maximus (PIR2 L55), one of the leading senators under Septimius Severus - and M. Nummius Senecio Albinus (PIR2 N235) were the eponymous consuls of 227. The pair is attested in several inscriptions, e.g. CIL VIII 18831 from Numidia which resembles this one in recording the exact date: Bacaci Aug(usto) \ sac(rum) \ Albino et Ma\ximo co(n)s(ulibus) \ Kal(endis) Mai(is) [3] Si\ttius Novellus \ et Q. Galerius Mu\stianus magg(istri) \ [Thib(ilitanorum?)]. Here Albinus' name precedes that of Maximus, which is usually the case. Nevertheless, a parallel with Maximus named before Albinus is provided by an inscription from Dacia (ILD 774, near Cluj): Deae Ne\mesi sac\rum Aur(elius) Ru[f]inus \ be(ne)f(iciarius) co(n)s(ularis) \ leg(ionis) XIII Gem(inae) \ Sever(ianae) v(otum) l(ibens) p(osuit) Maximo et Albi\[no] co(n)s(ulibus). Consequently, ? 21 is a votive inscription, largely restorable and precisely datable. The Collegium curatorum of the Cohors II Delmatarum in an inscription from Cacak Forty years ago within the Ascension Church yard in Cacak the lower part of a Roman limestone monument has been accidentally unearthed, bearing an inscription, three last lines of which are partially preserved (? 20 of the catalogue, (fig. 2), wherein only the mention of a cohort was recognized by the editors, who read: ]\[- - -]ALB[- - -| -]GIATI +[- - -|- - -co]h(ortis) eiusde(m) [- - -|- - - The elegant, shaded letters are lined up one below the other, which suggests that the text was arranged following the principle of centering. Above the L in the first line there is a trace of an O or a Q, unnoticed by the editors. So, there are 4 lines partially preserved. The space left between the lines 2 and 3 being larger than that between 1-2 and 3-4 respectively, the two last lines seem to constitute a separate entry. The genitive case cohortis eiusdem implies a preceding designation of the dedicant(s), and what we have before is a nominative plural ending in ?giati followed by a word of which only the first letter, C or O, is still discernible. As the most probable, if not the only possible, we propose the following restoration of the last two lines (fig. 8): [colle]giati c[urat(ores)]|[co]h(ortis) eiusde[m] possibly with a p(osuerunt) or d(edicaverunt) in the end. Despite its fragmentariness, the present inscription bears an important testimony to the existence, within the Roman army, of professional associations (collegia militaria) independent of regular military structures. The evidence for them is based solely on epigraphic sources; some hundred inscriptions contradict the paragraph of the Digesta (47.22) forbidding the soldiers to organize corporate associations in the camps. The cohort in question is doubtless the cohors II Aurelia Delmatarum milliaria equitata, which is known to have been stationed permanently, from the seventies of the second century A.D. to the fifties of the third century, in the eastern part of Dalmatia around the modern city of Cacak. It was a mixed infantry and cavalry unit, and the rank of curator (curator equitum singularium, curator alae, curator cohortis) is attested exclusively in the mounted units of the Roman army. It was higher than the simple eques; in the auxiliary troops, the curators may have been charged with special tactical or economic-administrative tasks. The lower officers (principales) and the soldiers with special tasks were allowed to form private associations fostering loyalty to the Emperor. All Roman collegia including the military ones, had their religious purpose and their official meeting room (schola) was also a sanctuary of their patron deity. It might be a part of the headquarters building, as in the case of the Castra Nova equitum singularium in Rome, where, beneath the Basilica of St John Lateran an Ionic capitel was uncovered with inscription on it dated with AD 197 recording the dedication of the schola curatorum to Minerva Augusta (AE 1935 156 = AE 1968, 8b).

Named Entities (NE) are the prominent entities appearing in textual documents. Automatic classification of NE in a textual corpus is a vital process in Information Extraction and Information Retrieval research. Named Entity Recognition (NER) is the identification of words in text that correspond to a pre-defined taxonomy such as person, organization, location, date, time, etc. This article focuses on the person (PER), organization (ORG) and location (LOC) entities for a Malay journalistic corpus of terrorism. A projection algorithm, using the Dice Coefficient function and bigram scoring method with domain-specific rules, is suggested to map the NE information from the English corpus to the Malay corpus of terrorism. The English corpus is the translated version of the Malay corpus. Hence, these two corpora are treated as parallel corpora. The method computes the string similarity between the English words and the list of available lexemes in a pre-built lexicon that approximates the best NE mapping. The algorithm has been effectively evaluated using our own terrorism tagged corpus; it achieved satisfactory results in terms of precision, recall, and F-measure. An evaluation of the selected open source NER tool for English is also presented.

This article reviews 86 studies and uses meta-analytical methods to investigate how perceived corporate social responsibility (CSR) impacts employee attitudes and behaviors and to identify the mediating mechanisms and boundary conditions. An initial review of this body of research finds a multitude of mediators but a limited focus on CSR typology as a potential moderator. Drawing upon social exchange theory, we develop and test two multivariate mediation models to integrate and synthesize three most-studied mediating mechanisms: organizational justice, organizational trust, and organizational identification. Meta-analyses find that while all three mechanisms within the parallel mediation model are equally significant in mediating the effect of perceived CSR on organizational commitment and job satisfaction, organizational identification is superior to organizational justice and organizational trust in mediating the effect of CSR perceptions on organizational citizenship behavior (OCB) and turnover intention. It is also found that although both mediation models adequately represent the accumulated empirical data, the sequential model is statistically superior to the parallel model. Although meta–structural equation modeling analyses reveal minimal differences between the broadly defined internal and external CSR perceptions, significant heterogeneity exists between perceived CSR and the outcome variables. The additional analyses suggest that significant differences exist between more specific stakeholder CSR types. In summary, this article extends our understanding of how employees perceive and respond to CSR through multiple sociopsychological mechanisms in additive and sequential fashions and how such responses could differ depending on the specific stakeholder subgroups targeted by CSR. Theoretical contributions and future research directions are also discussed.

The academic world is changing. It is being commoditized. While scholars as disparate as David Noble and Francois Lyotard tie this commoditization to information technology, there is a broader symbolic regime at work, that of consumer culture with its tools of territorialization and identification such as the logo (Noble) (Lyotard). The educational mission embodied in the academic world is being packaged within its commodity form. This commoditization entails over time a complete reformulation of the educational andresearch mission that undergirds the academic establishment; transforming them to fit the economic and social conditions of consumer culture. One representation of this transformation is the university logo. Logos are not new. “There is a long history to the use of publicity images and logos in branding or creating a distinctive identity for products,“ (Lury). Beyond Lury’s position, I posit that logos are inherently similar to the ancient identification markers that outline territory and affiliation. They are tribal, associative, and symbolic references. These systems of identification provide ways of identifying relationships amongst diverse groups of people. No longer is the identification natural by birth, but it is a social and economic cultural construct. You can see the cultural identification occurring in the‘team spirit’around collegiate athletics and in other heavily branded college and university activities. It has become pervasive in those environments, and is invading the rest of the academic establishment as the branding and advertising of individual degree programs illustrates. Logos exist in the symbolic economy of consumer culture. They are part of the system of commodification, or the replacement of any number of possible relationships with a commercial relationship of signs, monetary and otherwise. Logos identify a brand, and more and more those brands centralize identity creation within them. No longer is the person a user of the brand, but the brand creates the person. By possessing the brand, people brand themselves with the symbolic value of that brand. It is the metonymic replacement of the people with the logo through their own actions (Baudrillard, The Perfect Crime; Baudrillard, The Transparency of Evil : Essays on Extreme Phenomena). This is no clearer than the relation of individuals to their institutions of education, where the processes of enculturation are brought to bear to help form students into members of their community, such as Harvard man, etc. This branding of the human commoditizes the human, providing a set of clear valuations for people to judge. But this system of valuation in society is all too familiar. Parallel to the uniforms, insignia, unit crests, and ranks, which clearly mark military personnel, logos symbolize the belonging of the wearer and their status, amongst other things. This is the way they operate for social institutions also. When we look at the bank logo, when we look at the IBM worker, they are surrounded by the symbolic value that their logo and brand portends. As part of consumer culture, logos provide for a systemic identification of people, but what about those people do they identify? Do they merely identify people as a consumer of a product or member of an institution? That is not necessarily the identification of the rich and varied roles the person plays in every day life. Universities and colleges have logos, alongside other symbolic apparatus such as mascots, and particular colors. These logos serve the purpose of identifying both the university and those that choose to be identified with that university. However, what these logos rarely embody in their symbolic repertoire is the mission of colleges and universities, that of higher education and research. Contrarily, what educational logos seem to parallel most closely is the logo of the corporation, with big blocked letters alone or occasionally in some proximity to its mascot or other symbolic referent of power or money. They capture the idea of the university as a corporate whole, a body separate from, but containing its participants. This otherness is the embodiment of the academic world in the university, a separate body, but contained. This excisement of the university mission; this insulation of the academic world from its corporate identity is part of theremoval of those parts of the university that do not serve to enhance its identity as commodity provider. This brings into question the propriety of those parts of higher education that cannot be commoditized, such as the relationships between teacher and student. In short, it seems that university and college logos bypass any identification with the role of the university in society when we consider them in the context of other logos. The academic establishment should avoid the appropriation of logos and their implicit processes and associations. But if they are unavoidable, as part of the hegemonic processes of consumer society, they could be subverted by including more referents to their own mission such as diplomas, graduation, beakers, or whatever is appropriate to the mission of the college or university. When confronted with a logo of a university or college that has been abstracted like a military or corporate logo, we should question its meaning, find its similarities in other logos and soundly critique it, showing to the administration that the identity that they think they are creating is likely not conducive to promoting the continuance of the academic world as many imagine it. Works Cited Baudrillard, Jean. The Consumer Society: Myths and Structures. Theory, Culture & Society. London: Sage, 1998. ---. The Perfect Crime. London; New York: Verso, 1996. ---. The Transparency of Evil: Essays on Extreme Phenomena. London New York: Verso, 1993. Etzkowitz, Henry, and L. A. Leydesdorff. Universities and the Global Knowledge Economy: A Triple Helix of University-Industry-Government Relations. Science, Technology, and the International Political Economy Series. London; New York: Pinter, 1997. Gramsci, Antonio, Quintin Hoare, and Geoffrey Nowell-Smith. Selections from the Prison Notebooks of Antonio Gramsci. Edited and Translated by Quintin Hoare and Geoffrey Nowell Smith. London: Lawrence and Wishart, 1971. Lasn, Kalle. Culture Jam : The Uncooling of America. 1st ed. New York: Eagle Brook, 1999. Lury, Celia. Consumer Culture. Cambridge: Polity Press, 1996. Lyotard, Jean Francois. The Postmodern Condition: A Report on Knowledge. Theory and History of Literature; V. 10. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1984. Noble, David F. Digital Diploma Mills: The Automation of Higher Education. New York: Monthly Review Press, 2001. Webster, Andrew, Peter Healey, and Henry Etzkowitz. Capitalizing Knowledge: New Intersections of Industry and Academia. Suny Series, Frontiers in Education. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1998. Citation reference for this article Substitute your date of access for Dn Month Year etc... MLA Style Hunsinger, Jeremy. "The Academic Logo" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture< http://www.media-culture.org.au/0306/12-academic.php>. APA Style Hunsinger, J. (2003, Jun 19). The Academic Logo. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture, 6,< http://www.media-culture.org.au/0306/12-academic.php>

RESUMOSão partilhadas reflexões acerca de uma pesquisa sobre quais as qualidades são destacadas pelas pessoas panará quando se reconhece o estatuto de sujeito dos humanos e não humanos. A partir de narrativas da origem da mulher e das práticas sociais a elas conectadas, é explicitado que a condição de humanidade é incompleta para abarcar a identificação de uma subjetividade. O que é associado à animalidade parece ser incluído na configuração de pessoa, incidindo nas formas corporais humana e animal do mesmo sujeito ou de pessoas que dele descenderam. Tornar inteligível a afirmativa de que gente alta descende de jaburu e baixa de anta entremeia o texto, contornando um antromorfismo heterogêneo e sugerindo que o comum entre humano e não humano inclui aspectos físicos, afetivos e performáticos. A relação entre alimento, divisão e multiplicação com o corpo é enfática e problematizada, paralelamente. Palavras-chave: Panará. Jê. Corpo. Humano. Não Humano. ABSTRACT Reflections are shared about a research on what qualities are highlighted by people Panará when it recognizes the status of subject of human and non human. From narratives of women's origin and social practices connected to them, it is explained that the human condition is incomplete to include the identification of a subjectivity. What is associated with animality seems to be included in one configuration, focusing the human body shapes and animals of the same subject or who it descended. Make intelligible the assertion that high people descended from jaburu and low tapir intersperses text, bypassing a heterogeneous anthropomorphism and suggesting that the common between human and non human includes physical, emotional and performative. The relationship between food, divide and multiply in the body is emphatic and problematized in parallel. Keywords: Panará. Gê. Body. Human. Not human.

It is often heard, and even more often seen written, for example on social media, that that there is nothing new in the competitive intelligence (CI) field. There are no new ideas, the ideas that are being expressed are the same old, there is no development, there is, at best, stagnation. Even the old claim that CI is dead[1] reappears with a certain frequency[2]: “Competitive intelligence as a profession is dead. There are fewer and fewer full-time, dedicated CI professionals in organizations, and even fewer legitimate CI departments or functions. The need to understand an organization’s competitors has been diffused to several other functions including market research, finance, sales, R&D and others. What the founders of the profession - Jan Herring, Leonard Fuld, and Ben Gilad - built through the 80s and 90s no longer exists. And organizations are the worse off for it”[3]. Is this true? Yes and No. From a research perspective CI has developed and emerged with information technology (IT) solutions over the past ten years. It has come to the point where it does not make much sense to talk about new CI practices. Most advancements and developments are now about IT solutions and applications. This has again given rise to a whole new world of intelligence related problems and opportunities, not only for engineers but for users of these technologies. It is probably fair to say that the intelligence perspective has never been as important for businesses as it is today. Companies and organizations have never collected and analyzed as much information. Another way to explain this development is to say that CI has evolved, thus is no longer the same. Trying to look for the same or insisting that it has not changed gives the impression that there is nothing new in CI. CI consists of an interesting body of literature, but it was not the first term to deal with questions of intelligence in private organizations, and it is not the last. Before CI there was social intelligence, strategic intelligence and corporate intelligence with their own consultants and literature. As Sawka rightly points out CI was a label used in the 80s and 90s. Other terms used include market intelligence, marketing intelligence, business intelligence, collective intelligence, financial intelligence, scientific and technical intelligence, foresight, insight, and equivalent terms in other languages, like “l’information stratégique et de la sécurité économiques” (Sisse) [previously “intelligence économique"], “veille” in French and “omvärldsanalys” in Swedish. All these fields, where a field is defined as a body of literature, basically study the same phenomenon, how to gather information to make better decisions. As such intelligence studies is a part of the information age. The information age gave birth to several bodies of literature, of which the more established include information systems, management information systems and customer relations management. The intelligence perspective never really caught on among business scholars, maybe because it was associated with industrial espionage. The intelligence parallel in business is also a bet, the argument that private organizations are better organized as intelligence organizations, much like in state and/or military organizations. The idea is that this will give better information, which again will lead to a competitive advantage. So far, this bet has not caught on. Business organizations continue to be organized much as they were a hundred years ago: into production, sales, marketing, HR, finance and accounting. However, the way people work in all of these departments with ever larger amounts of information and data is starting to look more like intelligence operatives with their extensive system of files. In other words, the CI position never really saw a breakthrough, but CI has become an ever more important part of employees’ jobs, as a function.How can we then explain the frequently raised discussion related to the problems of CI? Let me suggest two answers, one general, the other more specific. Once we create something, we insist that it has either to exist, as it is, or it must disappear, thus at the end it is declared dead. This is the western mind at work, thinking in dichotomies, a thing either exist or it does not exist. There is no room for evolution, only constants. If a phenomenon such as a discipline evolves, we shouldn’t say that it’s dead, it just isn’t the same anymore, and nothing is more natural than that. So, what must change is rather the way in which we think about the fields we study. The other suggestion is that the critic of CI has more to do with another problem, the selling of consulting services. The market for consultancy services is highly segmented and fiercely competitive. As consultants we are trying to make a name for ourselves in a niche we can call our own and strive to be an acknowledged expert in it. This takes years, often a whole career. Academic careers are created much according to the same logic so the problem is the same there. The underlying message is “this is my area”, my niche, and as such I will defend it. What often happens is that another persons’ or group’s area grows into our own and sometimes is better at explaining the reality of our business problem, thus challenging our very raison d'être. Instead we insist that we are still relevant refusing to read up on other areas. We cease to be curious and the very business problems we study pass on to others. Some would argue this is what happened to CI.So, where is CI today? There certainly are many answers to this question. One suggestion is that it is more often treated as business intelligence again (it very much started there, but then without the IT association), data mining, search engine optimization, social media marketing and digital marketing in general. It suffices to look at the articles in this issue to find other examples: Bleoju et al. write about how MOOCs can be used to teach intelligence. Sperkova writes about customer experience (CX) and voice of customer (VoC). Poblano-Ojinaga et al. write about structural equation modeling for the identification of the intelligence factors. All authors have that in common that the are studying how organizations handle intelligence.In more detail, the first article by Bleoju et al. entitled “Empirical evidence from a connectivist competitive intelligence massive open online course (CI cMOOC) proof of concept” reveals how “the CI learning community perceives the capability of a cMOOC to train foreknowledge practices, given the best match between its content and context.” The paper argues for “an open intelligence approach to cMOOC collective training.”The second article by Maune entitled “Competitive intelligence as a game changer for Africa’s competitiveness in the global economy” develops a conceptual framework for how competitive intelligence can be adopted by African countries to improve their performance in the global economy.The third article by Sperkova entitled “Integration of textual VoC into a CX data model for business intelligence use in B2C” is a summary of her PhD, which will be defended in February 2020 at the University of Economics in Prague, the Department of Information Technologies. The author presents a model to store the customer experience (CX) and voice of customer (VoC) data as part of a business intelligence system. The model can help to improve customer relationships and make future performance more automatic and effective.The fourth article by Palilingan and Batmetan Entitled “How competitive intelligence can be used to improve a management vocational high school: A case from Indonesia” shows how competitive intelligence can be applied to make a vocational high school more efficient.The fifth and last article by Poblano-Ojinaga et al. entitled “Effect of the competitive intelligence on the innovation capability: an exploratory study in Mexican companies”, is an investigation using a methodology of structural equation modeling for the identification of the intelligence factors, to evaluate their relative importance and relationships with the innovation capability of Mexican companies. The empirical results show that the relationship between competitive intelligence and the innovation capability is indirect, with knowledge management as a mediating factor.Some news worth mentioning: we would like to thank the Swedish Research Council/ NOP-HS for receiving the “large” grant for Open Access journals for two years starting in 2020. JISIB is now indexed by Crossref, which should give users direct access to PDF full text through databases like Scopus and Web of Science. The SCIP organization, owned by Frost & Sullivan, has been reignited with a new executive director. We wish them good luck. There are numerous conferences on intelligence related topics this spring and next winter. See the JISIB website for details. Some of the editors of JISIB will be at the ICI in Bad Nauheim 11-14 May 2020. We hope to see you there.As always, we would above all like to thank the authors for their contributions to this issue of JISIB. Thanks to Dr. Allison Perrigo for reviewing English grammar and helping with layout design for all articles.[1] Sawka, Kenneth. (2010). The death of the competitive intelligence professional. Outward Insights, 13(2), 36-39.[2] Sawka, Kenneth. The death of the competitive intelligence professional. Retrieved January 30, 2020 from https://www.linkedin.com/feed/update/urn:li:activity:6627549366062194688[3] Idem

“...children’s play seems to become more and more a product of the educational and cultural orientation of parents...” — Stephen Kline, The Making of Children’s Culture We live in a world saturated by design and through design artefacts, one can glean unique insights into a culture's values and norms. In fact, some academics, such as British media and film theorist Ben Highmore, see the two areas so inextricably intertwined as to suggest a wholesale “re-branding of the cultural sciences as design studies” (14). Too often, however, everyday objects are marginalised or overlooked as objects of scholarly attention. The field of material culture studies seeks to change that by focussing on the quotidian object and its ability to reveal much about the time, place, and culture in which it was designed and used. This article takes on one such object, a mid-century children's toy tea set, whose humble journey from 1968 Sears catalogue to 2014 thrift shop—and subsequently this author’s basement—reveals complex rhetorical messages communicated both visually and verbally. As material culture studies theorist Jules Prown notes, the field’s foundation is laid upon the understanding “that objects made ... by man reflect, consciously or unconsciously, directly or indirectly, the beliefs of individuals who made, commissioned, purchased or used them, and by extension the beliefs of the larger society to which they belonged” (1-2). In this case, the objects’ material and aesthetic characteristics can be shown to reflect some of the pervasive stereotypes and gender roles of the mid-century and trace some of the prevailing tastes of the American middle class of that era, or perhaps more accurately the type of design that came to represent good taste and a modern aesthetic for that audience. A wealth of research exists on the function of toys and play in learning about the world and even the role of toy selection in early sex-typing, socialisation, and personal identity of children (Teglasi). This particular research area isn’t the focus of this article; however, one aspect that is directly relevant and will be addressed is the notion of adult role-playing among children and the role of toys in communicating certain adult practices or values to the child—what sociologist David Oswell calls “the dedifferentiation of childhood and adulthood” (200). Neither is the focus of this article the practice nor indeed the ethicality of marketing to children. Relevant to this particular example I suggest, is as a product utilising messaging aimed not at children but at adults, appealing to certain parents’ interest in nurturing within their child a perceived era and class-appropriate sense of taste. This was fuelled in large part by the curatorial pursuits of the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) in New York, coupled with an interest and investment in raising their children in a design-forward household and a desire for toys that reflected that priority; in essence, parents wishing to raise modern children. Following Prown’s model of material culture analysis, the tea set is examined in three stages, through description, deduction and speculation with each stage building on the previous one. Figure 1: Porcelain Toy Tea Set. Description The tea set consists of twenty-six pieces that allows service for six. Six cups, saucers, and plates; a tall carafe with spout, handle and lid; a smaller vessel with a spout and handle; a small round bowl with a lid; a larger oval bowl with a lid, and a coordinated oval platter. The cups are just under two inches tall and two inches in diameter. The largest piece, the platter is roughly six inches by four inches. The pieces are made of a ceramic material white in colour and glossy in texture and are very lightweight. The rim or edge of each piece is decorated with a motif of three straight lines in two different shades of blue and in different thicknesses, interspersed with a set of three black wiggly lines. Figure 2: Porcelain Toy Tea Set Box. The set is packaged for retail purposes and the original box appears to be fully intact. The packaging of an object carries artefactual evidence just as important as what it contains that falls into the category of a “‘para-artefact’ … paraphernalia that accompanies the product (labels, packaging, instructions etc.), all of which contribute to a product’s discourse” (Folkmann and Jensen 83). The graphics on the box are colourful, featuring similar shades of teal blue as found on the objects, with the addition of orange and a silver sticker featuring the logo of the American retailer Sears. The cover features an illustration of the objects on an orange tabletop. The most prominent text that confirms that the toy is a “Porcelain Toy Tea Set” is in an organic, almost psychedelic style that mimics both popular graphics of this era—especially album art and concert posters—as well as the organic curves of steam that emanate from the illustrated teapot’s spout. Additional messages appear on the box, in particular “Contemporary DESIGN” and “handsome, clean-line styling for modern little hostesses”. Along the edges of the box lid, a detail of the decorative motif is reproduced somewhat abstracted from what actually appears on the ceramic objects. Figure 3: Sears’s Christmas Wishbook Catalogue, page 574 (1968). Sears, Roebuck and Co. (Sears) is well-known for its over one-hundred-year history of producing printed merchandise catalogues. The catalogue is another important para-artefact to consider in analysing the objects. The tea set first appeared in the 1968 Sears Christmas Wishbook. There is no date or copyright on the box, so only its inclusion in the catalogue allows the set to be accurately dated. It also allows us to understand how the set was originally marketed. Deduction In the deduction phase, we focus on the sensory aesthetic and functional interactive qualities of the various components of the set. In terms of its function, it is critical that we situate the objects in their original use context, play. The light weight of the objects and thinness of the ceramic material lends the objects a delicate, if not fragile, feeling which indicates that this set is not for rough use. Toy historian Lorraine May Punchard differentiates between toy tea sets “meant to be used by little girls, having parties for their friends and practising the social graces of the times” and smaller sets or doll dishes “made for little girls to have parties with their dolls, or for their dolls to have parties among themselves” (7). Similar sets sold by Sears feature images of girls using the sets with both human playmates and dolls. The quantity allowing service for six invites multiple users to join the party. The packaging makes clear that these toy tea sets were intended for imaginary play only, rendering them non-functional through an all-capitals caution declaiming “IMPORTANT: Do not use near heat”. The walls and handles of the cups are so thin one can imagine that they would quickly become dangerous if filled with a hot liquid. Nevertheless, the lid of the oval bowl has a tan stain or watermark which suggests actual use. The box is broken up by pink cardboard partitions dividing it into segments sized for each item in the set. Interestingly even the small squares of unfinished corrugated cardboard used as cushioning between each stacked plate have survived. The evidence of careful re-packing indicates that great care was taken in keeping the objects safe. It may suggest that even though the set was used, the children or perhaps the parents, considered the set as something to care for and conserve for the future. Flaws in the glaze and applique of the design motif can be found on several pieces in the set and offer some insight as to the technique used in producing these items. Errors such as the design being perfectly evenly spaced but crooked in its alignment to the rim, or pieces of the design becoming detached or accidentally folded over and overlapping itself could only be the result of a print transfer technique popularised with decorative china of the Victorian era, a technique which lends itself to mass production and lower cost when compared to hand decoration. Speculation In the speculation stage, we can consider the external evidence and begin a more rigorous investigation of the messaging, iconography, and possible meanings of the material artefact. Aspects of the set allow a number of useful observations about the role of such an object in its own time and context. Sociologists observe the role of toys as embodiments of particular types of parental messages and values (Cross 292) and note how particularly in the twentieth century “children’s play seems to become more and more a product of the educational and cultural orientation of parents” (Kline 96). Throughout history children’s toys often reflected a miniaturised version of the adult world allowing children to role-play as imagined adult-selves. Kristina Ranalli explored parallels between the practice of drinking tea and the play-acting of the child’s tea party, particularly in the nineteenth century, as a gendered ritual of gentility; a method of socialisation and education, and an opportunity for exploratory and even transgressive play by “spontaneously creating mini-societies with rules of their own” (20). Such toys and objects were available through the Sears mail-order catalogue from the very beginning at the end of the nineteenth century (McGuire). Propelled by the post-war boom of suburban development and homeownership—that generation’s manifestation of the American Dream—concern with home décor and design was elevated among the American mainstream to a degree never before seen. There was a hunger for new, streamlined, efficient, modernist living. In his essay titled “Domesticating Modernity”, historian Jeffrey L. Meikle notes that many early modernist designers found that perhaps the most potent way to “‘domesticate’ modernism and make it more familiar was to miniaturise it; for example, to shrink the skyscraper and put it into the home as furniture or tableware” (143). Dr Timothy Blade, curator of the 1985 exhibition of girls’ toys at the University of Minnesota’s Goldstein Gallery—now the Goldstein Museum of Design—described in his introduction “a miniaturised world with little props which duplicate, however rudely, the larger world of adults” (5). Noting the power of such toys to reflect adult values of their time, Blade continues: “the microcosm of the child’s world, remarkably furnished by the miniaturised props of their parents’ world, holds many direct and implied messages about the society which brought it into being” (9). In large part, the mid-century Sears catalogues capture the spirit of an era when, as collector Thomas Holland observes, “little girls were still primarily being offered only the options of glamour, beauty and parenthood as the stuff of their fantasies” (175). Holland notes that “the Wishbooks of the fifties [and, I would add, the sixties] assumed most girls would follow in their mother’s footsteps to become full-time housewives and mommies” (1). Blade grouped toys into three categories: cooking, cleaning, and sewing. A tea set could arguably be considered part of the cooking category, but closer examination of the language used in marketing this object—“little hostesses”, et cetera—suggests an emphasis not on cooking but on serving or entertaining. This particular category was not prevalent in the era examined by Blade, but the cultural shifts of the mid-twentieth century, particularly the rapid popularisation of a suburban lifestyle, may have led to the use of entertaining as an additional distinct category of role play in the process of learning to become a “proper” homemaker. Sears and other retailers offered a wide variety of styles of toy tea sets during this era. Blade and numerous other sources observe that children’s toy furniture and appliances tended to reflect the style and aesthetic qualities of their contemporary parallels in the adult world, the better to associate the child’s objects to its adult equivalent. The toy tea set’s packaging trumpets messages intended to appeal to modernist values and identity including “Contemporary Design” and “handsome, clean-line styling for modern little hostesses”. The use of this coded marketing language, aimed particularly at parents, can be traced back several decades. In 1928 a group of American industrial and textile designers established the American Designers' Gallery in New York, in part to encourage American designers to innovate and adopt new styles such as those seen in the L’ Exposition Internationale des Arts Decoratifs et Industriels Modernes (1925) in Paris, the exposition that sparked international interest in the Art Deco or Art Moderne aesthetic. One of the gallery founders, Ilonka Karasz, a Hungarian-American industrial and textile designer who had studied in Austria and was influenced by the Wiener Werkstätte in Vienna, publicised her new style of nursery furnishings as “designed for the very modern American child” (Brown 80). Sears itself was no stranger to the appeal of such language. The term “contemporary design” was ubiquitous in catalogue copy of the nineteen-fifties and sixties, used to describe everything from draperies (1959) and bedspreads (1961) to spice racks (1964) and the Lady Kenmore portable dishwasher (1961). An emphasis on the role of design in one’s life and surroundings can be traced back to efforts by MoMA. The museum’s interest in modern design hearkens back almost to the institution’s inception, particularly in relation to industrial design and the aestheticisation of everyday objects (Marshall). Through exhibitions and in partnership with mass-market magazines, department stores and manufacturer showrooms, MoMA curators evangelised the importance of “good design” a term that can be found in use as early as 1942. What Is Good Design? followed the pattern of prior exhibitions such as What Is Modern Painting? and situated modern design at the centre of exhibitions that toured the United States in the first half of the nineteen-fifties. To MoMA and its partners, “good design” signified the narrow identification of proper taste in furniture, home decor and accessories; effectively, the establishment of a design canon. The viewpoints enshrined in these exhibitions and partnerships were highly influential on the nation’s perception of taste for decades to come, as the trickle-down effect reached a much broader segment of consumers than those that directly experienced the museum or its exhibitions (Lawrence.) This was evident not only at high-end shops such as Bloomingdale’s and Macy’s. Even mass-market retailers sought out well-known figures of modernist design to contribute to their offerings. Sears, for example, commissioned noted modernist designer and ceramicist Russel Wright to produce a variety of serving ware and decor items exclusively for the company. Notably for this study, he was also commissioned to create a toy tea set for children. The 1957 Wishbook touts the set as “especially created to delight modern little misses”. Within its Good Design series, MoMA exhibitions celebrated numerous prominent Nordic designers who were exploring simplified forms and new material technologies. In the 1968 Wishbook, the retailer describes the Porcelain Toy Tea Set as “Danish-inspired china for young moderns”. The reference to Danish design is certainly compatible with the modernist appeal; after the explosion in popularity of Danish furniture design, the term “Danish Modern” was commonly used in the nineteen-fifties and sixties as shorthand for pan-Scandinavian or Nordic design, or more broadly for any modern furniture design regardless of origin that exhibited similar characteristics. In subsequent decades the notion of a monolithic Scandinavian-Nordic design aesthetic or movement has been debunked as primarily an economically motivated marketing ploy (Olivarez et al.; Fallan). In the United States, the term “Danish Modern” became so commonly misused that the Danish Society for Arts and Crafts called upon the American Federal Trade Commission (FTC) to legally restrict the use of the labels “Danish” and “Danish Modern” to companies genuinely originating in Denmark. Coincidentally the FTC ruled on this in 1968, noting “that ‘Danish Modern’ carries certain meanings, and... that consumers might prefer goods that are identified with a foreign culture” (Hansen 451). In the case of the Porcelain Toy Tea Set examined here, Sears was not claiming that the design was “Danish” but rather “Danish-inspired”. One must wonder, was this another coded marketing ploy to communicate a sense of “Good Design” to potential customers? An examination of the formal qualities of the set’s components, particularly the simplified geometric forms and the handle style of the cups, confirms that it is unlike a traditional—say, Victorian-style—tea set. Punchard observes that during this era some American tea sets were actually being modelled on coffee services rather than traditional tea services (148). A visual comparison of other sets sold by Sears in the same year reveals a variety of cup and pot shapes—with some similar to the set in question—while others exhibit more traditional teapot and cup shapes. Coffee culture was historically prominent in Nordic cultures so there is at least a passing reference to that aspect of Nordic—if not specifically Danish—influence in the design. But what of the decorative motif? Simple curved lines were certainly prominent in Danish furniture and architecture of this era, and occasionally found in combination with straight lines, but no connection back to any specific Danish motif could be found even after consultation with experts in the field from the Museum of Danish America and the Vesterheim National Norwegian-American Museum (personal correspondence). However, knowing that the average American consumer of this era—even the design-savvy among them—consumed Scandinavian design without distinguishing between the various nations, a possible explanation could be contained in the promotion of Finnish textiles at the time. In the decade prior to the manufacture of the tea set a major design tendency began to emerge in the United States, triggered by the geometric design motifs of the Finnish textile and apparel company Marimekko. Marimekko products were introduced to the American market in 1959 via the Cambridge, Massachusetts-based retailer Design Research (DR) and quickly exploded in popularity particularly after would-be First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy appeared in national media wearing Marimekko dresses during the 1960 presidential campaign and on the cover of Sports Illustrated magazine. (Thompson and Lange). The company’s styling soon came to epitomise a new youth aesthetic of the early nineteen sixties in the United States, a softer and more casual predecessor to the London “mod” influence. During this time multiple patterns were released that brought a sense of whimsy and a more human touch to classic mechanical patterns and stripes. The patterns Piccolo (1953), Helmipitsi (1959), and Varvunraita (1959), all designed by Vuokko Eskolin-Nurmesniemi offered varying motifs of parallel straight lines. Maija Isola's Silkkikuikka (1961) pattern—said to be inspired by the plumage of the Great Crested Grebe—combined parallel serpentine lines with straight and angled lines, available in a variety of colours. These and other geometrically inspired patterns quickly inundated apparel and decor markets. DR built a vastly expanded Cambridge flagship store and opened new locations in New York in 1961 and 1964, and in San Francisco in 1965 fuelled in no small part by the fact that they remained the exclusive outlet for Marimekko in the United States. It is clear that Marimekko’s approach to pattern influenced designers and manufacturers across industries. Design historian Lesley Jackson demonstrates that Marimekko designs influenced or were emulated by numerous other companies across Scandinavia and beyond (72-78). The company’s influence grew to such an extent that some described it as a “conquest of the international market” (Hedqvist and Tarschys 150). Subsequent design-forward retailers such as IKEA and Crate and Barrel continue to look to Marimekko even today for modern design inspiration. In 2016 the mass-market retailer Target formed a design partnership with Marimekko to offer an expansive limited-edition line in their stores, numbering over two hundred items. So, despite the “Danish” misnomer, it is quite conceivable that designers working for or commissioned by Sears in 1968 may have taken their aesthetic cues from Marimekko’s booming work, demonstrating a clear understanding of the contemporary high design aesthetic of the time and coding the marketing rhetoric accordingly even if incorrectly. Conclusion The Sears catalogue plays a unique role in capturing cross-sections of American culture not only as a sales tool but also in Holland’s words as “a beautifully illustrated diary of America, it’s [sic] people and the way we thought about things” (1). Applying a rhetorical and material culture analysis to the catalogue and the objects within it provides a unique glimpse into the roles these objects played in mediating relationships, transmitting values and embodying social practices, tastes and beliefs of mid-century American consumers. Adult consumers familiar with the characteristics of the culture of “Good Design” potentially could have made a connection between the simplified geometric forms of the components of the toy tea set and say the work of modernist tableware designers such as Kaj Franck, or between the set’s graphic pattern and the modernist motifs of Marimekko and its imitators. But for a much broader segment of the population with a less direct understanding of modernist aesthetics, those connections may not have been immediately apparent. The rhetorical messaging behind the objects’ packaging and marketing used class and taste signifiers such as modern, contemporary and “Danish” to reinforce this connection to effect an emotional and aspirational appeal. These messages were coded to position the set as an effective transmitter of modernist values and to target parents with the ambition to create “appropriately modern” environments for their children. References Ancestry.com. “Historic Catalogs of Sears, Roebuck and Co., 1896–1993.” <http://search.ancestry.com/search/db.aspx?dbid=1670>. Baker Furniture Inc. “Design Legacy: Our Story.” n.d. <http://www.bakerfurniture.com/design-story/ legacy-of-quality/design-legacy/>. Blade, Timothy Trent. “Introduction.” Child’s Play, Woman’s Work: An Exhibition of Miniature Toy Appliances: June 12, 1985–September 29, 1985. St. Paul: Goldstein Gallery, U Minnesota, 1985. Brown, Ashley. “Ilonka Karasz: Rediscovering a Modernist Pioneer.” Studies in the Decorative Arts 8.1 (2000-1): 69–91. Cross, Gary. “Gendered Futures/Gendered Fantasies: Toys as Representatives of Changing Childhood.” American Journal of Semiotics 12.1 (1995): 289–310. Dolansky, Fanny. “Playing with Gender: Girls, Dolls, and Adult Ideals in the Roman World.” Classical Antiquity 31.2 (2012): 256–92. Fallan, Kjetil. Scandinavian Design: Alternative Histories. Berg, 2012. Folkmann, Mads Nygaard, and Hans-Christian Jensen. “Subjectivity in Self-Historicization: Design and Mediation of a ‘New Danish Modern’ Living Room Set.” Design and Culture 7.1 (2015): 65–84. Hansen, Per H. “Networks, Narratives, and New Markets: The Rise and Decline of Danish Modern Furniture Design, 1930–1970.” The Business History Review 80.3 (2006): 449–83. Hedqvist, Hedvig, and Rebecka Tarschys. “Thoughts on the International Reception of Marimekko.” Marimekko: Fabrics, Fashions, Architecture. Ed. Marianne Aav. Bard. 2003. 149–71. Highmore, Ben. The Design Culture Reader. Routledge, 2008. Holland, Thomas W. Girls’ Toys of the Fifties and Sixties: Memorable Catalog Pages from the Legendary Sears Christmas Wishbooks, 1950-1969. Windmill, 1997. Hucal, Sarah. "Scandi Crush Saga: How Scandinavian Design Took over the World." Curbed, 23 Mar. 2016. <http://www.curbed.com/2016/3/23/11286010/scandinavian-design-arne-jacobsen-alvar-aalto-muuto-artek>. Jackson, Lesley. “Textile Patterns in an International Context: Precursors, Contemporaries, and Successors.” Marimekko: Fabrics, Fashions, Architecture. Ed. Marianne Aav. Bard. 2003. 44–83. Kline, Stephen. “The Making of Children’s Culture.” The Children’s Culture Reader. Ed. Henry Jenkins. New York: NYU P, 1998. 95–109. Lawrence, Sidney. “Declaration of Function: Documents from the Museum of Modern Art’s Design Crusade, 1933-1950.” Design Issues 2.1 (1985): 65–77. Marshall, Jennifer Jane. Machine Art 1934. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 2012. McGuire, Sheila. “Playing House: Sex-Roles and the Child’s World.” Child’s Play, Woman’s Work: An Exhibition of Miniature Toy Appliances : June 12, 1985–September 29, 1985. St. Paul: Goldstein Gallery, U Minnesota, 1985. Meikel, Jeffrey L. “Domesticating Modernity: Ambivalence and Appropriation, 1920–1940.” Designing Modernity; the Arts of Reform and Persuasion. Ed. Wendy Kaplan. Thames & Hudson, 1995. 143–68. O’Brien, Marion, and Aletha C. Huston. “Development of Sex-Typed Play Behavior in Toddlers.” Developmental Psychology, 21.5 (1985): 866–71. Olivarez, Jennifer Komar, Jukka Savolainen, and Juulia Kauste. Finland: Designed Environments. Minneapolis Institute of Arts and Nordic Heritage Museum, 2014. Oswell, David. The Agency of Children: From Family to Global Human Rights. Cambridge UP, 2013. Prown, Jules David. “Mind in Matter: An Introduction to Material Culture Theory and Method.” Winterthur Portfolio 17.1 (1982): 1–19. Punchard, Lorraine May. Child’s Play: Play Dishes, Kitchen Items, Furniture, Accessories. Punchard, 1982. Ranalli, Kristina. An Act Apart: Tea-Drinking, Play and Ritual. Master's thesis. U Delaware, 2013. Sears Corporate Archives. “What Is a Sears Modern Home?” n.d. <http://www.searsarchives.com/homes/index.htm>. "Target Announces New Design Partnership with Marimekko: It’s Finnish, Target Style." Target, 2 Mar. 2016. <http://corporate.target.com/article/2016/03/marimekko-for-target>. Teglasi, Hedwig. “Children’s Choices of and Value Judgments about Sex-Typed Toys and Occupations.” Journal of Vocational Behavior 18.2 (1981): 184–95. Thompson, Jane, and Alexandra Lange. Design Research: The Store That Brought Modern Living to American Homes. Chronicle, 2010.

For seven months in 1999/2000, six-year old Cuban Elián González was embroiled in a family feud plotted along rival national and ideological lines, and relayed televisually as soap opera across the planet. In Miami, apparitions of the Virgin Mary were reported after Elián’s arrival; adherents of Afro-Cuban santería similarly regarded Elián as divinely touched. In Cuba, Elián’s “kidnapping” briefly reinvigorated a torpid revolutionary project. He was hailed by Fidel Castro as the symbolic descendant of José Martí and Che Guevara, and of the patriotic rigour they embodied. Cubans massed to demand his return. In the U.S.A., Elián’s case was arbitrated at every level of the juridical system. The “Save Elián” campaign generated widespread debate about godless versus godly family values, the contours of the American Dream, and consumerist excess. By the end of 2000 Elián had generated the second largest volume of TV news coverage to that date in U.S. history, surpassed only by the O. J. Simpson case (Fasulo). After Fidel Castro, and perhaps the geriatric music ensemble manufactured by Ry Cooder, the Buena Vista Social Club, Elián became the most famous Cuban of our era. Elián also emerged as the unlikeliest of popular-cultural icons, the focus and subject of cyber-sites, books, films, talk-back radio programs, art exhibits, murals, statues, documentaries, a South Park episode, poetry, songs, t-shirts, posters, newspaper editorials in dozens of languages, demonstrations, speeches, political cartoons, letters, legal writs, U.S. Congress records, opinion polls, prayers, and, on both sides of the Florida Strait, museums consecrated in his memory. Confronted by Elián’s extraordinary renown and historical impact, John Carlos Rowe suggests that the Elián story confirms the need for a post-national and transdisciplinary American Studies, one whose practitioners “will have to be attentive to the strange intersections of politics, law, mass media, popular folklore, literary rhetoric, history, and economics that allow such events to be understood.” (204). I share Rowe’s reading of Elián’s story and the clear challenges it presents to analysis of “America,” to which I would add “Cuba” as well. But Elián’s story is also significant for the ways it challenges critical understandings of fame and its construction. No longer, to paraphrase Leo Braudy (566), definable as an accidental hostage of the mass-mediated eye, Elián’s fame has no certain relation to the child at its discursive centre. Elián’s story is not about an individuated, conscious, performing, desiring, and ambivalently rewarded ego. Elián was never what P. David Marshall calls “part of the public sphere, essentially an actor or, … a player” in it (19). The living/breathing Elián is absent from what I call the virtualizing drives that famously reproduced him. As a result of this virtualization, while one Elián now attends school in Cuba, many other Eliáns continue to populate myriad popular-cultural texts and to proliferate away from the states that tried to contain him. According to Jerry Everard, “States are above all cultural artefacts” that emerge, virtually, “as information produced by and through practices of signification,” as bits, bites, networks, and flows (7). All of us, he claims, reside in “virtual states,” in “legal fictions” based on the elusive and contested capacity to generate national identities in an imaginary bounded space (152). Cuba, the origin of Elián, is a virtual case in point. To augment Nicole Stenger’s definition of cyberspace, Cuba, like “Cyberspace, is like Oz — it is, we get there, but it has no location” (53). As a no-place, Cuba emerges in signifying terms as an illusion with the potential to produce and host Cubanness, as well as rival ideals of nation that can be accessed intact, at will, and ready for ideological deployment. Crude dichotomies of antagonism — Cuba/U.S.A., home/exile, democracy/communism, freedom/tyranny, North/South, godlessness/blessedness, consumption/want — characterize the hegemonic struggle over the Cuban nowhere. Split and splintered, hypersensitive and labyrinthine, guarded and hysterical, and always active elsewhere, the Cuban cultural artefact — an “atmospheric depression in history” (Stenger 56) — very much conforms to the logics that guide the appeal, and danger, of cyberspace. Cuba occupies an inexhaustible “ontological time … that can be reintegrated at any time” (Stenger 55), but it is always haunted by the prospect of ontological stalling and proliferation. The cyber-like struggle over reintegration, of course, evokes the Elián González affair, which began on 25 November 1999, when five-year old Elián set foot on U.S. soil, and ended on 28 June 2000, when Elián, age six, returned to Cuba with his father. Elián left one Cuba and found himself in another Cuba, in the U.S.A., each national claimant asserting virtuously that its other was a no-place and therefore illegitimate. For many exiles, Elián’s arrival in Miami confirmed that Castro’s Cuba is on the point of collapse and hence on the virtual verge of reintegration into the democratic fold as determined by the true upholders of the nation, the exile community. It was also argued that Elián’s biological father could never be the boy’s true father because he was a mere emasculated puppet of Castro himself. The Cuban state, then, had forfeited its claims to generate and host Cubanness. Succoured by this logic, the “Save Elián” campaign began, with organizations like the Cuban American National Foundation (CANF) bankrolling protests, leaflet and poster production, and official “Elián” websites, providing financial assistance to and arranging employment for some of Elián’s Miami relatives, lobbying the U.S. Congress and the Florida legislature, and contributing funds to the legal challenges on behalf of Elián at state and federal levels. (Founded in 1981, the CANF is the largest and most powerful Cuban exile organization, and one that regards itself as the virtual government-in-waiting. CANF emerged with the backing of the Reagan administration and the C.I.A. as a “private sector initiative” to support U.S. efforts against its long-time ideological adversary across the Florida Strait [Arboleya 224-5].) While the “Save Elián” campaign failed, the result of a Cuban American misreading of public opinion and overestimation of the community’s lobbying power with the Clinton administration, the struggle continues in cyberspace. CANF.net.org registers its central role in this intense period with silence; but many of the “Save Elián” websites constructed after November 1999 continue to function as sad memento moris of Elián’s shipwreck in U.S. virtual space. (The CANF website does provide links to articles and opinion pieces about Elián from the U.S. media, but its own editorializing on the Elián affair has disappeared. Two keys to this silence were the election of George W. Bush, and the events of 11 Sep. 2001, which have enabled a revision of the Elián saga as a mere temporary setback on the Cuban-exile historical horizon. Indeed, since 9/11, the CANF website has altered the terms of its campaign against Castro, posting photos of Castro with Arab leaders and implicating him in a world-wide web of terrorism. Elián’s return to Cuba may thus be viewed retrospectively as an act that galvanized Cuban-exile support for the Republican Party and their disdain for the Democratic rival, and this support became pivotal in the Republican electoral victory in Florida and in the U.S.A. as a whole.) For many months after Elián’s return to Cuba, the official Liberty for Elián site, established in April 2000, was urging visitors to make a donation, volunteer for the Save Elián taskforce, send email petitions, and “invite a friend to help Elián.” (Since I last accessed “Liberty for Elián” in March 2004 it has become a gambling site.) Another site, Elian’s Home Page, still implores visitors to pray for Elián. Some of the links no longer function, and imperatives to “Click here” lead to that dead zone called “URL not found on this server.” A similar stalling of the exile aspirations invested in Elián is evident on most remaining Elián websites, official and unofficial, the latter including The Sad Saga of Elian Gonzalez, which exhorts “Cuban Exiles! Now You Can Save Elián!” In these sites, a U.S. resident Elián lives on as an archival curiosity, a sign of pathos, and a reminder of what was, for a time, a Cuban-exile PR disaster. If such cybersites confirm the shipwrecked coordinates of Elián’s fame, the “Save Elián” campaign also provided a focus for unrestrained criticism of the Cuban exile community’s imbrication in U.S. foreign policy initiatives and its embrace of American Dream logics. Within weeks of Elián’s arrival in Florida, cyberspace was hosting myriad Eliáns on sites unbeholden to Cuban-U.S. antagonisms, thus consolidating Elián’s function as a disputed icon of virtualized celebrity and focus for parody. A sense of this carnivalesque proliferation can be gained from the many doctored versions of the now iconic photograph of Elián’s seizure by the INS. Still posted, the jpegs and flashes — Elián and Michael Jackson, Elián and Homer Simpson, Elián and Darth Vader, among others (these and other doctored versions are archived on Hypercenter.com) — confirm the extraordinary domestication of Elián in local pop-cultural terms that also resonate as parodies of U.S. consumerist and voyeuristic excess. Indeed, the parodic responses to Elián’s fame set the virtual tone in cyberspace where ostensibly serious sites can themselves be approached as send ups. One example is Lois Rodden’s Astrodatabank, which, since early 2000, has asked visitors to assist in interpreting Elián’s astrological chart in order to confirm whether or not he will remain in the U.S.A. To this end the site provides Elián’s astro-biography and birth chart — a Sagittarius with a Virgo moon, Elián’s planetary alignments form a bucket — and conveys such information as “To the people of Little Havana [Miami], Elian has achieved mystical status as a ‘miracle child.’” (An aside: Elián and I share the same birthday.) Elián’s virtual reputation for divinely sanctioned “blessedness” within a Cuban exile-meets-American Dream typology provided Tom Tomorrow with the target in his 31 January 2000, cartoon, This Modern World, on Salon.com. Here, six-year old Arkansas resident Allen Consalis loses his mother on the New York subway. His relatives decide to take care of him since “New York has much more to offer him than Arkansas! I mean get real!” A custody battle ensues in which Allan’s heavily Arkansas-accented father requires translation, and the case inspires heated debate: “can we really condemn him to a life in Arkansas?” The cartoon ends with the relatives tempting Allan with the delights offered by the Disney Store, a sign of Elián’s contested insertion into an American Dreamscape that not only promises an endless supply of consumer goods but provides a purportedly safe venue for the alternative Cuban nation. The illusory virtuality of that nation also animates a futuristic scenario, written in Spanish by Camilo Hernández, and circulated via email in May 2000. In this text, Elián sparks a corporate battle between Firestone and Goodyear to claim credit for his inner-tubed survival. Cuban Americans regard Elián as the Messiah come to lead them to the promised land. His ability to walk on water is scientifically tested: he sinks and has to be rescued again. In the ensuing custody battle, Cuban state-run demonstrations allow mothers of lesbians and of children who fail maths to have their say on Elián. Andrew Lloyd Weber wins awards for “Elián the Musical,” and for the film version, Madonna plays the role of the dolphin that saved Elián. Laws are enacted to punish people who mispronounce “Elián” but these do not help Elián’s family. All legal avenues exhausted, the entire exile community moves to Canada, and then to North Dakota where a full-scale replica of Cuba has been built. Visa problems spark another migration; the exiles are welcomed by Israel, thus inspiring a new Intifada that impels their return to the U.S.A. Things settle down by 2014, when Elián, his wife and daughter celebrate his 21st birthday as guests of the Kennedys. The text ends in 2062, when the great-great-grandson of Ry Cooder encounters an elderly Elián in Wyoming, thus providing Elián with his second fifteen minutes of fame. Hernández’s text confirms the impatience with which the Cuban-exile community was regarded by other U.S. Latino sectors, and exemplifies the loss of control over Elián experienced by both sides in the righteous Cuban “moral crusade” to save or repatriate Elián (Fernández xv). (Many Chicanos, for example, were angered at Cuban-exile arguments that Elián should remain in the U.S.A. when, in 1999 alone, 8,000 Mexican children were repatriated to Mexico (Ramos 126), statistical confirmation of the favored status that Cubans enjoy, and Mexicans do not, vis-à-vis U.S. immigration policy. Tom Tomorrow’s cartoon and Camilo Hernández’s email text are part of what I call the “What-if?” sub-genre of Elián representations. Another example is “If Elián Gonzalez was Jewish,” archived on Lori’s Mishmash Humor page, in which Eliat Ginsburg is rescued after floating on a giant matzoh in the Florida Strait, and his Florida relatives fight to prevent his return to Israel, where “he had no freedom, no rights, no tennis lessons”.) Nonetheless, that “moral crusade” has continued in the Cuban state. During the custody battle, Elián was virtualized into a hero of national sovereignty, an embodied fix for a revolutionary project in strain due to the U.S. embargo, the collapse of Soviet socialism, and the symbolic threat posed by the virtual Cuban nation-in-waiting in Florida. Indeed, for the Castro regime, the exile wing of the national family is virtual precisely because it conveniently overlooks two facts: the continued survival of the Cuban state itself; and the exile community’s forty-plus-year slide into permanent U.S. residency as one migrant sector among many. Such rhetoric has not faded since Elián’s return. On December 5, 2003, Castro visited Cárdenas for Elián’s tenth birthday celebration and a quick tour of the Museo a la batalla de ideas (Museum for the Battle of Ideas), the museum dedicated to Elián’s “victory” over U.S. imperialism and opened by Castro on July 14, 2001. At Elián’s school Castro gave a speech in which he recalled the struggle to save “that little boy, whose absence caused everyone, and the whole people of Cuba, so much sorrow and such determination to struggle.” The conflation of Cuban state rhetoric and an Elián mnemonic in Cárdenas is repeated in Havana’s “Plaza de Elián,” or more formally Tribuna Anti-imperialista José Martí, where a statue of José Martí, the nineteenth-century Cuban nationalist, holds Elián in his arms while pointing to Florida. Meanwhile, in Little Havana, Miami, a sun-faded set of photographs and hand-painted signs, which insist God will save Elián yet, hang along the front fence of the house — now also a museum and site of pilgrimage — where Elián once lived in a state of siege. While Elián’s centrality in a struggle between virtuality and virtue continues on both sides of the Florida Strait, the Cuban nowhere could not contain Elián. During his U.S. sojourn many commentators noted that his travails were relayed in serial fashion to an international audience that also claimed intimate knowledge of the boy. Coming after the O.J. Simpson saga and the Clinton-Lewinsky affair, the Elián story confirmed journalist Rick Kushman’s identification of a ceaseless, restless U.S. media attention shift from one story to the next, generating an “übercoverage” that engulfs the country “in mini-hysteria” (Calvert 107). But In Elián’s case, the voyeuristic media-machine attained unprecedented intensity because it met and worked with the virtualities of the Cuban nowhere, part of it in the U.S.A. Thus, a transnational surfeit of Elián-narrative options was guaranteed for participants, audiences and commentators alike, wherever they resided. In Cuba, Elián was hailed as the child-hero of the Revolution. In Miami he was a savior sent by God, the proof supplied by the dolphins that saved him from sharks, and the Virgins who appeared in Little Havana after his arrival (De La Torre 3-5). Along the U.S.A.-Mexico border in 2000, Elián’s name was given to hundreds of Mexican babies whose parents thought the gesture would guarantee their sons a U.S. future. Day by day, Elián’s story was propelled across the globe by melodramatic plot devices familiar to viewers of soap opera: doubtful paternities; familial crimes; identity secrets and their revelation; conflicts of good over evil; the reuniting of long-lost relatives; and the operations of chance and its attendant “hand of Destiny, arcane and vaguely supernatural, transcending probability of doubt” (Welsh 22). Those devices were also favored by the amateur author, whose narratives confirm that the delirious parameters of cyberspace are easily matched in the worldly text. In Michael John’s self-published “history,” Betrayal of Elian Gonzalez, Elián is cast as the victim of a conspiracy traceable back to the hydra-headed monster of Castro-Clinton and the world media: “Elian’s case was MANIPULATED to achieve THEIR OVER-ALL AGENDA. Only time will bear that out” (143). His book is now out of print, and the last time I looked (August 2004) one copy was being offered on Amazon.com for US$186.30 (original price, $9.95). Guyana-born, Canadian-resident Frank Senauth’s eccentric novel, A Cry for Help: The Fantastic Adventures of Elian Gonzalez, joins his other ventures into vanity publishing: To Save the Titanic from Disaster I and II; To Save Flight 608 From Disaster; A Wish to Die – A Will to Live; A Time to Live, A Time to Die; and A Day of Terror: The Sagas of 11th September, 2001. In A Cry for Help, Rachel, a white witch and student of writing, travels back in time in order to save Elián’s mother and her fellow travelers from drowning in the Florida Strait. As Senauth says, “I was only able to write this dramatic story because of my gift for seeing things as they really are and sharing my mystic imagination with you the public” (25). As such texts confirm, Elián González is an aberrant addition to the traditional U.S.-sponsored celebrity roll-call. He had no ontological capacity to take advantage of, intervene in, comment on, or be known outside, the parallel narrative universe into which he was cast and remade. He was cast adrift as a mere proper name that impelled numerous authors to supply the boy with the biography he purportedly lacked. Resident of an “atmospheric depression in history” (Stenger 56), Elián was battled over by virtualized national rivals, mass-mediated, and laid bare for endless signification. Even before his return to Cuba, one commentator noted that Elián had been consumed, denied corporeality, and condemned to “live out his life in hyper-space” (Buzachero). That space includes the infamous episode of South Park from May 2000, in which Kenny, simulating Elián, is killed off as per the show’s episodic protocols. Symptomatic of Elián’s narrative dispersal, the Kenny-Elián simulation keeps on living and dying whenever the episode is re-broadcast on TV sets across the world. Appropriated and relocated to strange and estranging narrative terrain, one Elián now lives out his multiple existences in the Cuban-U.S. “atmosphere in history,” and the Elián icon continues to proliferate virtually anywhere. References Arboleya, Jesús. The Cuban Counter-Revolution. Trans. Rafael Betancourt. Research in International Studies, Latin America Series no. 33. Athens, OH: Ohio Center for International Studies, 2000. Braudy, Leo. The Frenzy of Renown: Fame and Its History. New York and Oxford: Oxford UP, 1986. Buzachero, Chris. “Elian Gonzalez in Hyper-Space.” Ctheory.net 24 May 2000. 19 Aug. 2004: http://www.ctheory.net/text_file.asp?pick=222>. Calvert, Clay. Voyeur Nation: Media, Privacy, and Peering in Modern Culture. Boulder: Westview, 2000. Castro, Fidel. “Speech Given by Fidel Castro, at the Ceremony Marking the Birthday of Elian Gonzalez and the Fourth Anniversary of the Battle of Ideas, Held at ‘Marcello Salado’ Primary School in Cardenas, Matanzas on December 5, 2003.” 15 Aug. 2004 http://www.revolutionarycommunist.org.uk/fidel_castro3.htm>. Cuban American National Foundation. Official Website. 2004. 20 Aug. 2004 http://www.canf.org/2004/principal-ingles.htm>. De La Torre, Miguel A. La Lucha For Cuba: Religion and Politics on the Streets of Miami. Berkeley: U of California P, 2003. “Elian Jokes.” Hypercenter.com 2000. 19 Aug. 2004 http://www.hypercenter.com/jokes/elian/index.shtml>. “Elian’s Home Page.” 2000. 19 Aug. 2004 http://elian.8k.com>. Everard, Jerry. Virtual States: The Internet and the Boundaries of the Nation-State. London and New York, Routledge, 2000. Fernández, Damián J. Cuba and the Politics of Passion. Austin: U of Texas P, 2000. Hernández, Camilo. “Cronología de Elián.” E-mail. 2000. 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