Artykuły w czasopismach na temat „Probate law and practice, massachusetts”

The introduction of the notary public service in the Serbian legal system has introduced a number of novelties in matters concerning inheritance law. The most important of them is the possibility of entrusting the probate proceedings in inheritance cases to notaries public. In the Serbian legal system, probate proceedings dealing with inheritance matters have traditionally beed conducted competent courts. This long-standing tradition is difficult to break with. Thus, the Serbian legislator still envisages the jurisdiction of the court to discuss inheritance matters, but now there is a possibility of entrusting this procedure to a notary public, when it is deemed to be expedient. In this paper, the author examines the judicial practice and the public notaries practice in an attempt to determine the justification of entrusting some probate proceedings to notaries public. Concurrently, the author analyzes the possibility of transferring competences for conducting probate proceedings entirely to public notaries. In the author's opinion, it is a realistic possibility considering that the hetherto practice of public notaries in probate proceedings speaks in favour of this legal solution, particularly taking into account the reduced caseload and timeframe needed to complete these non-litigious probate proceedings.

Book of Civil Law (KUHPer), the concept of Grant is divided into two forms, yaito Grant and probate grant. The basic difference between the two is that the grant is made while the grantor is still alive, while the will grant is only carried out after the will grantor dies. The law regarding grants is regulated in Article 1666 of the Civil Code, while probate grants are regulated in Article 957 of the Civil Code. Related to the collection of duties on the acquisition of land and building rights, although the acquisition value of non-taxable taxable objects is regulated by local regulations under Article 46 paragraph 8,. in this study raised the issue of how the implementation of probate grants in the practice of law in Indonesia? And how the legal certainty of probate grants in terms of Law No. 1 year 2022 on the financial relationship between Central and local governments?by using the theory of Agreement and The Theory of legal certainty The method used in this study is normative legal research is legal research literature or secondary data with sources of primary, secondary and tertiary legal materials. The approach used legislation approach, case approach, conceptual approach and analytical approach. And legal material collection techniques are carried out by identifying and inventorying positive legal rules, book literature, journals and other legal material sources, for legal material analysis techniques (interpretation) grammatical interpretation, systematic interpretation and legal construction methods. That the court will certify the will if it meets the requirements of the law, checks for compliance with the provisions of applicable law, and ensures that there are no disputes that prevent the execution of the grant. The implementation of this will grant is a harmonization between the principles of treaty law and agrarian law. Although it is a form of agreement, the probate Grant is also subject to agrarian regulations governing land and property rights. Thus, the legal process in accordance with the applicable provisions is important to maintain the validity and continuity of the implementation of the probate Grant and protect the rights of the parties involved and that Law No. 1 of 2022 on financial relations between Central and local governments has an important impact on the legal certainty of the implementation of probate grants in Indonesia, especially in terms of the protection and management of donated property. Although it does not directly regulate probate grants, it does provide a broader legal context that can support clarity of procedure and protection of the rights of grantees

This paper1 addresses the practical aspects of mediation. Experienced mediators will know what mediations look like and feel like and need no reminding how effective mediation has become as a means of resolving disputes. My own practice as a mediator – which tends to focus on inheritance and probate disputes, where the emotional element is often highly toxic – has some parallels with the mediation of Church disputes where an understanding of and sensitivity to theology is crucial.

In February 1704, a Boston laborer named Thomas Lea found himself surrounded by townspeople as he lay on his deathbed. These spectators had gathered hoping to hear a much anticipated confession of the crimes they believed Lea had committed fifteen years earlier during the Dominion of New England. In Suffolk County, many townspeople had long maintained that Lea and others had used the confusion and chaos generated by the unsettling political and legal transformations introduced to New England during the 1680s to surreptitiously gain legal title to the estate of a prosperous Braintree, Massachusetts, landowner named William Penn. Standing by Lea's bedside, one witness, who believed Lea had perjured himself at the 1689 probate administration of Penn's estate, demanded: “Thomas can you as you are going out of the World answer at the Tribunal of God to the Will of Mr Penns, which you have sworn to[?]” “Was Mr Penn living or Dead when this Will was Made?” In the presence of assembled witnesses, Lea acknowledged, “he was dead.” Other townspeople pressed Lea to reveal the role he played in what many believed had been a murder for inheritance scheme. They reminded Lea that Penn's corpse had been found covered “in blood, in his own dung” with “a hole in his back, that you might turn your two fingers into it” and, even more disturbing, “one of his [Penn's] stones in his codd [scrotum] was broken all to pieces.” Averting the onlookers' gaze, Lea “turned his head aside the other way, saying what I did I was hired to do.” For these witnesses, the death-bed confession confirmed the rumors of Lea's crimes and strengthened their belief that a wave of corruption introduced in the 1680s had sabotaged New England's distinctive Puritan jurisprudence. Indeed, townspeople had labored for years to overturn the 1689 probate of Penn's estate in an effort forestall the crown's efforts to bring New England into political and legal conformity with the dictates of the growing English empire.

Historians have long discussed the different ways in which the first professional lawyer to practice in Massachusetts Bay Colony, Thomas Lechford, was at odds with colony authorities in his three-year stay there—from June 27, 1638 to August 3, 1641. Some accounts have focused on his religious views, since Lechford disagreed with the strict forms of church membership prescribed by the colony's religion, Congregationalism. When he returned to England, Lechford wrote a book called Plain Dealing in which he argued against this form of religious organization, claiming that he had received enough first-hand experience to recommend a return to the Church of England. This book has been an important source of information on religious and political arrangements in colonial Massachusetts, and so for many, the picture of Lechford as religious dissenter is familiar. Another important picture of Lechford, especially familiar to historians of the American legal profession, is Lechford the impecunious lawyer disbarred for the unethical practice of law. Lechford himself had written, “I am…forced to get my living by writing petty things, which scarce finds me bread.” He had been disbarred for “embracery,” pleading to a jury out of court, and it was assumed that this combination of circumstances forced him to return to England. James Savage wrote under his biographical entry for Lechford: “left here, aft. vain attempt to earn bread.” Other nineteenth-century scholars of colonial Massachusetts said much the same thing. William Whitmore, in an introduction to a collection of Massachusetts colonial laws, wrote that Lechford “was finally starved into returning to England.”

States are rapidly modifying law and policy to increase access to the opioid antidote naloxone, and the provision of naloxone rescue kits (NRK) for use in the event of overdose is becoming increasingly common. As of late 2014 the majority of states had passed laws increasing naloxone access, and nearly as many have modified emergency responder scope of practice protocols to permit Emergency Medical Technicians (EMTs) and law enforcement officers to administer the medication. While the text of these laws is generally similar, their implementation varies among states.This article outlines experiences and lessons learned from two diverse states, Massachusetts and North Carolina. In Massachusetts naloxone access initiatives were well underway before formal legislative action occurred, while in North Carolina the passage of a naloxone access law served as a catalyst for the creation of new programs and facilitated the scale-up of existing ones. In both states legislative action was necessary to permit the prescription and dispensing of naloxone to the friends and family members of people who use opioids, a key legal change.

AbstractIn Kartell v. Blue Shield of Massachusetts, Inc., the First Circuit held that Blue Shield's reimbursement practice known as the “ban on balance billing” did not constitute an unlawful restraint of trade in violation of the antitrust laws. Underlying the First Circuit's decision was deference to what it viewed as efforts by Blue Shield and by the Commonwealth to promote cost containment.This Comment argues that, to the contrary, under an appropriate analysis of antitrust law, the practices employed by Blue Shield did constitute unreasonable restraints of trade on the physicians' service industry in Massachusetts, given Blue Shield's market dominance in the Commonwealth. The Comment also argues that such inhibition of the competitive functioning of this industry is unwise, and that costs should instead be contained by effectuating the antitrust laws and encouraging the development of competitive forces within this industry.

Aerial photographs and satellite images are one of the resources used for earth observation. In practice, automated detection of roads on aerial images is of significant values for the application such as car navigation, law enforcement, and fire services. In this paper, we present a novel road extraction method from aerial images based on an improved generative adversarial network, which is an end-to-end framework only requiring a few samples for training. Experimental results on the Massachusetts Roads Dataset show that the proposed method provides better performance than several state of the art techniques in terms of detection accuracy, recall, precision and F1-score.

Evidence suggests that participating in career and technical education (CTE) in high school, on average, positively affects general education students when transitioning from education to the workforce. Yet, almost no large-scale causal research has explored whether academic benefits also accrue to students with disabilities in CTE. This omission is glaring given that students with disabilities participate in high school CTE programs at high rates. We use multiple years of administrative data from Massachusetts to estimate the effect of participating in CTE on the academic outcomes of students with disabilities. Compared with peers with similar disabilities who do not participate in CTE, students with disabilities in CTE programs perform comparably on standardized measures of student achievement but have higher probabilities of graduating from high school on time or earning industry-recognized certificates. Implications for policy and practice, particularly with regard to scaling access to similar programs, are discussed.

This study reviews findings from Project Regional Analytics for the Safety of Our Residents, a modified focused deterrence program operated across three jurisdictions in Massachusetts. Unlike most other evaluations of targeted high-risk offender programs, the impact on individual-level offending is examined. Data from records management systems in three police agencies were extracted and used to create social harm risk scores. The top 150 offenders were selected for inclusion in this study. Subjects were blocked into three groups according to their composite score and then randomly assigned into treatment and control groups. All treatment group offenders were invited to a notification meeting where they decided whether to participate in the program with a police and social worker case management team. The outcome examined in this study is time to a new arraignment. Nonparametric and semiparametric methods detected no significant difference between groups after approximately one year. Implications for future research and practice are then discussed.

Supply-side interventions such as prescription drug monitoring programs, “pill mill” laws, and dispensing limits have done little to quell the burgeoning opioid crisis. An increasingly popular demand-side alternative to these measures – now adopted by 38 jurisdictions in the USA and 7 provinces in Canada — is court-mandated involuntary commitment and treatment. In Massachusetts, for example, Part I, Chapter 123, Section 35 of the state's General Laws allows physicians, spouses, relatives, and police officers to petition a court to involuntarily commit and treat a person whose alcohol or drug abuse poses a likelihood of serious harm. This paper explores the ethical underpinnings of this law as a case study for others. First, we highlight the procedural and substantive standards of Section 35 and evaluate the application of the law in practice, including the frequency with which it has been invoked and outcomes. We then use this background to inform an ethical critique of the law. Specifically, we argue that the infringement of autonomy and privacy associated with involuntary intervention under Section 35 is not currently justified on the grounds of a lack of evidenced benefits and a risk of significant of harm. Further ethical concerns also arise from a lack of standard of care provided under the Section 35 pathway. Based on this analysis, we advance four recommendations for change to mitigate these ethical shortcomings.

Dr. Julia Green is a primary care physician (PCP) licensed to practice medicine in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. On October 1, 1994, Dr. Green signed a one-year, renewable contract with Allcare Health Plan (AHP). Pursuant to the terms of the contract, on January 1, 1995, AHP placed her on its select list of PCPs available to its 100,000 covered lives (“enrollees”). Dr. Green provided for all primary care and specialist referrals for those enrollees who chose her as their physician. AHP paid her on a fee-for-service (FFS) basis for all preapproved procedures and treatments.Dr. Green felt that this contract might decrease her autonomy slightly; however, she also felt that it would increase her patient pool significantly and lessen the burden of collecting fees directly from patients. Dr. Green knew that choosing not to sign the contract would preclude AHP enrollees from making her their PCP because AHP only covered treatment provided by its own physicians. She further feared that as enrollment in managed care organizations (MCOs) increases, and more of her colleagues sign managed care contracts, her pool of potential patients would decrease drastically.

<p>Merced a los inventarios de bienes de la ciudad de Burgos a lo largo del Setecientos, se accede a las disponibilidades de dinero en efectivo y a los tipos de monedas que los hogares atesoraban en el interior de sus viviendas. No en todos ellos hallamos liquidez monetaria. A la postre, la tipología del numerario diferenciaba, de manera notoria, a quienes, ya fuera al hilo de su óbito o en sus existencias cotidianas, eran poseedores de “buena” moneda –en plata y en oro– de aquellos que únicamente disponían de vellón, la “mala” moneda. Empero, los hogares acaparaban los metales “nobles” no sólo a través del numerario sino también en las cuberterías, en los relojes, en las alhajas y adornos personales, en algunos pertrechos religiosos, etcétera. La ley de Gresham, “La moneda buena expulsa a la mala”, se traducía en la práctica no sólo en la circulación habitual de la moneda de peor calidad cuanto en que los hogares menos afortunados disponían, cuando les era posible, de la moneda más modesta. La buena moneda era propiedad de los aristócratas y los privilegiados.</p><p>With probate inventories in the city of Burgos during the eighteenth century, we gain access to the available cash and the types of coins hoarded in households. Not in all of them we find liquidity. Ultimately, type of cash made a noticeable difference between those who, close to their deaths or in their daily lives, had “good money –silver or gold– and those who only possessed fleece –the bad money. However, households hoarded “noble” metals not only through cash but also in cutlery, clocks, jewellery and personal ornaments, some religious supplies, and so on. Gresham’s law, “The good money drives out the bad”, was put into practice not only in the normal movement of poorer quality coin as but also in the fact that the less fortunate households when they could, possessed more modest currency. The coin was owned by aristocrats and privileged ones.</p>

AbstractObjectiveIn autumn 2012, Massachusetts schools implemented comprehensive competitive food and beverage standards similar to the US Department of Agriculture’s Smart Snacks in School standards. We explored major themes raised by food-service directors (FSD) regarding their school-district-wide implementation of the standards.DesignFor this qualitative study, part of a larger mixed-methods study, compliance was measured via direct observation of foods and beverages during school site visits in spring 2013 and 2014, calculated to ascertain the percentage of compliant products available to students. Semi-structured interviews with school FSD conducted in each year were analysed for major implementation themes; those raised by more than two-thirds of participating school districts were explored in relationship to compliance.SettingMassachusetts school districts (2013: n 26; 2014: n 21).SubjectsData collected from FSD.ResultsSeven major themes were raised by more than two-thirds of participating school districts (range 69–100 %): taking measures for successful transition; communicating with vendors/manufacturers; using tools to identify compliant foods and beverages; receiving support from leadership; grappling with issues not covered by the law; anticipating changes in sales of competitive foods and beverages; and anticipating changes in sales of school meals. Each theme was mentioned by the majority of more-compliant school districts (65–81 %), with themes being raised more frequently after the second year of implementation (range increase 4–14 %).ConclusionsFSD in more-compliant districts were more likely to talk about themes than those in less-compliant districts. Identified themes suggest best-practice recommendations likely useful for school districts implementing the final Smart Snacks in School standards, effective July 2016.

Purpose – The purpose of this paper is to examine the leadership practice of an 11-member district team of educators assembled to respond to one of the most comprehensive bullying laws in the nation – the Massachusetts Anti-Bullying Law of 2010. This three-year case study provides school leaders and legislators with an in-depth, fine-grained analysis of how leadership was practiced by a district team of de facto leaders charged with implementing mandatory legislative policy throughout a six-school, 5,000-student, K-12 public school district. Design/methodology/approach – This three-year case study employed an analytical, distributed leadership framework to identify, categorize, and analyze key artifacts used by a team to design and implement system-wide the comprehensive requirements of legislation. Using Weft qualitative data analysis software and the open, axial, and selective coding guidelines of Strauss and Corbin, data from semi-structured interviews and document analysis revealed a number of hidden structural considerations exerting significant influence on the leadership practice of the team. Findings – Findings from this study suggest that leadership is perhaps more fluid than previously theorized. Defining leadership as a force that moves between and among organizational stakeholders (as opposed to a person or position), this study identified a number of structural considerations exerting influence on the leadership practice of a team. Furthermore, this study suggests that foreknowledge of these structural considerations may help to foster organizational learning, to leverage preexisting social and intellectual capital, and to more successfully navigate the requirements of complex organizational change such as legislative mandates and standards-based reform. Research limitations/implications – Because of the chosen research approach, the research results may lack generalizability. Therefore, researchers are encouraged to replicate this study in other school districts or large organizations who are responding to state or federal legislation. Practical implications – The paper includes implications for state and local educational leaders as they struggle with the increased demands of standards-based educational reform. Social implications – This study has implications for those seeking to understand how legislation is received and assimilated by schools as well as those seeking a greater understanding of formal and informal leadership. Originality/value – This paper fulfills an identified need to study how leadership is practiced in response to standards-based state and federal legislation.

<p><strong>Abstract.</strong> Gerrymandering is the practice of deliberately drawing electoral districts in a way that provides unfair advantage to one group over another, typically with respect to political parties or particular social or ethnic groups (Bunge 1966; Horn 1999). The term itself was coined in 1812, after a Massachusetts Governor, Elbridge Gerry, signed into law a political reapportionment bill with long, sinuous districts that one political cartoonist aptly compared to a winged salamander (Morrill 1973). While this practice was by no means new, the particularly grievous instance had given it a name; because, of the profound impact that voting district boundaries can have on the outcome of single-candidate elections, the practice lives on some two centuries later. Since then, several important legislative and judicial standards have emerged at the level of US Federal Government that were intended to stymie this practice. These include the Voting Rights Act of 1965, which stipulated that US Congressional districts be comprised of contiguous territory in “as compact form as practicable” (Bunge 1966). And yet despite these laws and legal standards, the US Supreme Court has been “reluctant to overturn even fairly blatant partisan gerrymandering,“ (Horn 1999), in part due to the inherent complexity of ascribing arbitrary boundaries on complex social and geographic landscapes, but also due to the onerous (and sometimes conflicting) legal standards that have been established. As Bill Bunge (1966) put it, “the problem sounds geographically simple—merely construct regions of ‘compact form’! But the grouping of locations into an antigerrymandered state touches on some of the deepest and most fundamental problems in regional geography.”</p><p>In the United States, the upcoming 2020 Census, and the resulting redistricting process, has brought gerrymandering back into focus. Specifically, algorithmically conducted geospatial analysis and the resulting cartographic visualizations produced have emerged as a central battleground on which various practices of redistricting are discussed. However, most spatial analysis and cartographic visualization of gerrymandering to date has relied almost exclusively on Euclidean, absolute representations of space (O’Sullivan et al . 2018). In this paper, we demonstrate how strictly Euclidean perspectives may fail to account for the quotidian experiences of space. Further, we argue towards a relational understanding of space that takes into account how individuals move through space in their day-to-day lives. To do so, we first return to a set of complex mathematical approaches first espoused during the quantitative revolution of the 1970s (Forer 1978; Morrill 1976; Morrill 1973; Tobler 1961; and others). Using new and improved computational tools, we improve upon these efforts, providing a process for generating new visualizations that explore relational spaces within congressional districts. Specifically, we use Multidimensional Scaling (MDS) within a graph network to bend and fold congressional districts in accordance with the travel-time it takes to move through them. We conclude by discussing the limitations of this approach and areas for further research.</p><p>Though quantitative methods in the field of geography seem presently dominated by narrow views of absolute, Euclidean spaces, early efforts at defining quantitative geographic approaches were focused largely on finding new ways to define and visualize space (Janelle 2015; Kitchin 2006; O’Sullivan et al. 2018). Tobler (1961) proposed that much distortion of space by transportation can be understood through the transformation of coordinates. Bunge’s transformation of the “real” travel time for commuters is one of the more famous visualization of this type of isochronic transformation (O’Sullivan et al. 2018). Forer (1978) expands upon this idea with a discussion of an all-points-to-all-points reorganization, rather than the bending of adjacent points of interest based on a singular, central anchor point. Such an approach is necessarily computationally intensive as points must be moved over many iterations as the relative location of adjacent points is also in flux, and there exists the possibility of complex inversions in cases where the interior of the geographic space is not navigable (O’Sullivan et al. 2018). Simply put, this type of computationally intensive visualization was extremely difficult in the 1970s and, additionally, newer techniques such as MDS and bidimensional regression not developed or relatively unknown at that time (Ahmed and Miller 2017).</p><p>While the practical and mathematical execution of these approached failed to overcome the technical barriers of their time, deeper philosophical currents present in such were were carried on through discourse in both feminist and human geography. Much of this work has engaged with Marx’s concept of the “annihilation of space by time” particularly as articulated through Harvey’s (1990) explication of “time-space compression.” Despite academic interest in the relational experiences of space in daily life and a recognition that distance alone is an insufficient means of characterizing the spaces and places in which human interaction takes place, there has been little engagement with these ideas with respect to the creation of representational voting districts where an emphasis on purportedly “neutral” algorithms and their resulting visualizations has dominated the public discourse.</p><p>We present an approach for the visualization of congressional districts within the United States that is based upon the estimated travel time between points according to Bing Maps API. Such an approach is informed by the relational, lived experiences of individuals as they attempt to traverse space, but also requires significant computational complexity. The approach follows Forer’s (1978) conceptual model of continuous spatial transformations between all points. To create a visualization that maintains some similarity to the types seen by traditional maps, points will be assigned as an evenly spaced grid at sufficient density to roughly approximate the full shape of traditional congressional district polygons. In our test case, we demonstrate significant distortion of districts when travel-time is taken into account that reveals otherwise cartographically hidden experiences of lived space. We select three districts in Washington state for this demonstration, although the open-source code can be readily applied to any district for which the user has information.</p><p>In brief, the process involves the transformation of a congressional district to a set of coordinate points (Figure 1). A distance matrix of travel times between all-points-to-all-points is then constructed. MDS, a process for arranging points based on their dissimilarity (Bouts et al. 2016; Shimizu &amp; Inoue 2009; VanderPlas 2016), allows for the rearranging of these points within a graph network such that the average travel time between all points in the graph is minimized. This follows Morrill’s (1973; 1976) approach to the construction of congressional districts.</p>

Photo 3701647 © Jeremy Swinborne | Dreamstime.com INTRODUCTION Among the many unclear issues as interpretations of Employment Division v. Smith arise in the context of vaccination mandates is a simple question: Does any exception to a law at all (whether for a group or an individual) render a law not “generally applicable and religion-neutral” in the eyes of the current Supreme Court? I. Background Prior to Employment Division v. Smith,[i] Sherbert v. Verner[ii] set forth the free exercise test which called for strict scrutiny requiring a compelling state interest and the use of the least restrictive means to achieve the state interest when a law poses a substantial burden to the exercise of religion. Sherbert had a broad holding that prior to Smith applied to laws whether neutral on their face or not, and whether the asserted discrimination was intentional or not. One issue with Sherbert was that judges were not especially adept at judging the sincerity of beliefs and the importance of religious rituals to individuals, making it difficult to determine whether a law imposed a “substantial burden” on the practice of a religion. Employment Division v. Smith holds that laws that are generally applicable and religion-neutral need not be justified by a compelling government interest even if they do have the effect of (unintentionally) burdening a religious practice.[iii] Smith, decided in 1990, altered and narrowed judicial discretion in evaluating neutral laws that may impede the free exercise of religion. Justice Scalia aligned free exercise with other First Amendment rights.[iv] He also alleviated the need for judges to determine the burden on and the sincerity of religious beliefs in instances of neutral laws. “Smith therefore diminished judicial power to grant religious citizens exemptions from their civic obligations...”[v] Yet a carveout was maintained for laws that have a “mechanism for individualized discretion”; strict scrutiny still applies to those. Lukumi[vi] (1993) reaffirmed yet distinguished Smith. In Lukumi, the law in question was adopted to ensure that a religious group would be rendered unable to sacrifice animals. The law had numerous exemptions (clearly people may kill animals for many non-essential reasons like hunting and fishing for sport, etc.) and the lawmakers seemed to have the intent of interfering with animal sacrifice. It was not considered generally applicable on various grounds and the Lukumi Court states, “As we noted in Smith, in circumstances in which individualized exemptions from a general requirement are available, the government "may not refuse to extend that system to cases of 'religious hardship' without compelling reason." Ibid., quoting Bowen v. Roy, 476 U. S., at 708 (opinion of Burger, C. J.).”[vii] In Lukumi, arguably there were so many exceptions, the rule was clearly targeting religious sacrifices. The Court applied strict scrutiny and the law was deemed unconstitutional. II. The Current Supreme Court and Laws Outside of Smith The current and recent cases indicate that some justices on the Supreme Court assert that the caselaw supports religious exemptions to a broad array of laws. Two arguments support this result: either a limited interpretation of “generally applicable and neutral” or a slightly different tactic which argues that any laws with individual exceptions call for strict scrutiny. (One argument is that those which allow exceptions are not generally applicable and neutral, and thus fall outside of Smith and they require strict scrutiny;[viii] the other is that a law can be generally applicable and neutral, but if it has a system for exceptions, then it is subject to strict scrutiny.[ix]) In John Does 1-3 v. Mills, the Supreme Court denied an injunction on October 29, 2021. The case concerns Maine’s vaccine mandate and will be heard on the merits. Gorsuch dissented from the denial of injunctive relief. He applied Smith, Lukumi, and Fulton v. Philadelphia[x] saying that because there is a medical exemption, the law is not “generally applicable”[xi] and strict scrutiny will apply. Thomas and Alito joined Gorsuch. The Gorsuch dissent also implies that the Maine medical exemption may be somewhat bogus saying Maine finds the “mere trepidation over vaccination as sufficient” if it is expressed in medical rather than religious terms.[xii] Justice Barrett, joined by Kavanaugh, concurred in the denial of the injunction, but clarified that her reasoning was a wish to avoid giving a “merits preview” by enjoining the law, based on the applicants’ likelihood of success, noting the case is “the first to address the questions presented.”[xiii] III. Do Medical Exemptions Negate the Possibility of a Neutral and Generally Applicable Law? Are they a de facto “mechanism for individual exemption”? To me, it seems that under the current law, a medical exemption could make the absence of a religious exemption more problematic. The big issue now is whether Barrett and Kavanaugh and any (even all) other justices are likely to find the medical exemption is a “mechanism for individual exemptions” or whether it otherwise more simply makes a law not neutral or generally applicable. In previous recent COVID-19 cases, the argument of emergency authority was prominent. Caselaw regarding emergency use of governmental powers trumped some constitutional arguments and led to disparate COVID-19 caselaw.[xiv] For example, some courts applied Jacobson v. Massachusetts,[xv] giving deference to public health authorities while others applied strict scrutiny.[xvi] At the Supreme Court level, Justices Sotomayor, Kagan, and Breyer have been more willing to analyze COVID-19 regulations according to emergency powers.[xvii] a. In Favor of the Gorsuch Reasoning The Gorsuch dissent will require the state to offer proof of some rationale for why a medical exemption would be more acceptable, less dangerous, etc. than a religious one. Because there is a medical exemption, the causal nexus between the state’s goals and the restrictions will matter. For example, in Fraternal Order of Police v. Newark, a requirement that police be clean shaven was invalidated because there was a medical exception.[xviii] The problem with the rule was that the government interest in uniformity was not violated any more or less whether the person was noncompliant due to medical as opposed to religious reasons. Gorsuch correctly applied similar reasoning arguing that those not in compliance with the Maine vaccine mandate due to religious exemptions posed no more danger than those noncompliant due to medical conditions.[xix] An opposing side might argue that by the numbers, and without a need for a doctor’s signature, more people would apply for and receive religious exemptions, thus harming the ability to reach herd immunity more, or posing more risk of community spread. b. But, on the other hand There are many laws with medical exemptions. It would not seem right that they be subject to strict scrutiny for failing to offer religious outs as well. For example, places without motorized vehicles could allow motorized wheelchairs. Indeed, the ADA may even call for special treatment in many circumstances where religious special treatment would not be granted. Disability law often requires variances, changing zoning to allow ramps, or other accommodations.[xx] It does not appear that every disability accommodation equates to a need to allow a corresponding religious accommodation, nor that strict scrutiny would apply. Zoning cases are common where churches seek exceptions from historical landmark regulations and the results of those cases vary.[xxi] One of the biggest vulnerabilities of the Smith ruling is that arguably all laws have an individualized enforcement aspect. While it may not be an official exemption or a “mechanism for individual exemption”, individuals have the ability to use courts to challenge laws, there are laws that rely on wishy washy terms, like “good cause”, and there are groups whose failure to comply with laws may be traditionally ignored. In each of those scenarios, those seeking religious exemptions may have a stronger case, and eventually may chip away at Smith. c. Would a Different Built-In Exemption Preclude Application of Smith? Application of Smith may depend on whether the exemption is discretionary or built in. For example, if an exemption said anyone may apply for an exemption with good cause, religious ones should be fairly and equally considered. If an exemption reads anyone with an autoimmune disease is exempt, the class of people exempt would be delineated (unlike the Maine language) rather than discretionary as with the open-ended medical exemption language of the Maine statute. In the case of a class-like exemption, the argument that the law is neutral and generally applicable would be stronger. Smith was not really meant to declare that laws with any categories would be vulnerable to free exercise challenges. Similarly, objective criteria in providing exemptions differs. When criteria for exemptions are made clear, the religious argument could be weaker. However, the Gorsuch argument that in the end the religious objector poses no more danger to others than the medical (or other maybe conscientious, financial, or physical) objector may be the winning argument. IV. Side Note: Another Consideration for Neutral Laws In Roman Catholic Diocese of New York, Justice Kavanaugh created a peer group limitation in applying Smith. Kavanaugh found that a law that limited gatherings at religious services was not neutral. The law had various categories of entity.[xxii] An interesting twist is that other entities similar to churches in objective concrete ways (like theaters) were closed altogether, so arguably religion was favored over those, but disfavored compared to essential businesses (like food stores). The orange and red zones in the challenged Cuomo Executive Order did have specific rules for places of worship. Gorsuch referred to Lukumi in his concurrence and went directly to strict scrutiny without sincerely entertaining the concept that the Executive Order was a neutral and generally applicable law. That is in keeping with his dissent in Does 1-3 v. Mills. Yet, it remains possible to argue that laws with objective, defined categories may still be neutral and generally applicable. V. Time to Abandon Jacobson at this Juncture of COVID-19 Jacobson applies in public health emergencies and, while in recent Supreme Court cases, many justices rightly pointed to the emergency as a reason to compromise important rights, the emergency aspect of the pandemic is waning. In many areas, the positive rate is quite low, businesses are returning to normal, and the vaccination rate is high. As such, the abandonment of strict scrutiny in favor of Jacobson’s emergency deference to public health entities, something Gorsuch failed to entertain in South Bay Pentecostal Church v. Newsom[xxiii] anyway, is arguably no longer warranted. Deference to the state and to experts must be limited to emergencies. Justices Kagan, Breyer, and Sotomayor who rightly cautioned against “armchair epidemiology”[xxiv] during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic might return to stricter stances on protecting rights as the emergency dies down or becomes localized, and as increasing methods and treatments arise, like the COVID-19 pill by Merck. The calculus of whether we need strict COVID-19 regulations is dynamic. This is not a static emergency with powers to be left in place unconditionally. CONCLUSION The argument that vaccination is a civic and moral obligation that people should engage in regardless of religious beliefs is stronger in an emergency. Whether deemed to include a “mechanism for individual exemptions” or just declared not neutral or generally applicable, laws offering any exceptions are more vulnerable to free exercise claims. Under the current Supreme Court composition, anticipating that laws may face strict scrutiny is wise—Smith is unlikely to shield seemingly neutral laws in the face of free exercise cases. That is not necessarily a bad outcome in a country that purports to allow religious freedom and can do so safely. Strict scrutiny is merely a protection that would ensure the public that laws are meaningful, achieve compelling purposes, and do so without unnecessarily impeding fundamental rights. Yet one bad outcome of a rule that says if there are medical exemptions so must there be religious ones is that lawmakers will write laws that are more absolute, rigid, and unyielding to legitimate claims. [i] 494 U.S. 872 (1990). https://supreme.justia.com/cases/federal/us/494/872/#tab-opinion-1958253 [ii] 374 U.S. 398 (1963). https://supreme.justia.com/cases/federal/us/374/398/#tab-opinion-1944463 [iii] Smith, at 879 (religion does not excuse people from compliance with neutral laws.) [iv] Kaplan, Carol M., “The Devil is in the Details: Neutral, Generally Applicable Laws and Exemptions from Smith,” New York University Law Review, October 2000. https://www.nyulawreview.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/08/NYULawReview-75-4-Kaplan.pdf [v] Kaplan, at 1053. [vi] Lukumi Babalu Aye, Inc. v. City of Hialeah 508 U.S. 520 (1993). https://supreme.justia.com/cases/federal/us/508/520/#tab-opinion-1959281 [vii] Lukumi, at 537. [viii] Keeler v. Mayor of Cumberland. 940 F. Supp. 879 (D. Md. 1996) https://law.justia.com/cases/federal/district-courts/FSupp/951/83/1381605/; Kaplan, at 1066. [ix] Kaplan, at 1062, citing Swanson v. Guthrie Indep. Sch. Dist., 135 F. Supp. 694 (10th Cir 1998). [x] Fulton v. Philadelphia, 593 U.S. __ (2021) [xi] Does 1-3 v. Mills, 595 U.S. ____(2021). Gorsuch, dissent, p. 2. https://www.supremecourt.gov/opinions/21pdf/21a90_6j37.pdf [xii] Does 1-3 v. Mills, Gorsuch dissent, p. 3. [xiii] Does 1-3 v. Mills, Barret, concurring. https://www.supremecourt.gov/opinions/21pdf/21a90_6j37.pdf [xiv] Zimmerman, A. “Weeding Out Disingenuous Emergency Orders: A Consistent Ethical Justification to Determine Whether to Apply Jacobson V. Massachusetts’ Deferential Approach or the Tiered Scrutiny That Would Apply Absent an Emergency”. 2021. Voices in Bioethics, vol. 7, May 2021, doi:10.7916/vib.v7i.8037. [xv] 197 US 11 (1905). [xvi] Zimmerman, A. 2021. doi:10.7916/vib.v7i.8037. [xvii] South Bay Pentecostal Church v. Newsom (2021), Kagan, dissenting, joined by Breyer and Sotomayor (Justices are “not scientists”.) [xviii] Kaplan, at 1079, citing Fraternal Order of Police v. City of Newark, 170 F. 3d 359 (3d Cir. 1999). [xix] Does 1-3 v. Mills, Gorsuch dissent, p. 4. [xx] https://www.ada.gov/comprob.htm [xxi] Keeler v. Mayor of Cumberland (provisions deemed individualized exemptions so religious deserve strict scrutiny and consideration); Rector of St. Bartholomew’s Church v. City of New York (2d Cir. 1990)(discretion does not negate Smith if it is not discriminatory so religious does not get strict scrutiny); see Kaplan at 1066. [xxii] Cuomo executive order established zones. https://esd.ny.gov/cluster-action-initiative-faq [xxiii] 592 US __ (2021). https://www.supremecourt.gov/opinions/20pdf/20a136_bq7c.pdf [xxiv] South Bay Pentecostal Church v. Newsom (2021) (dissent).

A harmonious state of things is often perceived idyllic. It is devoid of cacophony, hostility, and dissension. It denotes peace, accord, and a relationship characterized by a lack of conflict. True harmony goes much deeper than absence of conflict or condemnation for the lack of peace. This paper presents the challenges to harmony using the theory of care ethics. It will unveil the possibilities of care, even if it was initially lodged at home and family. Using an expansive view, this paper claims that harmony is not farfetched if nations bring to the table the ethics of care. Hinged on care ethics are the principles of collective praxis, peace, and solidarity which enrich human potentials and makes interconnections, and solidarity possible. Thus, the paper will employ philosophical and theological analysis that addresses the following: 1) Care ethics as an ethical concept with myriad variants, yet praxis-driven; 2) Pope Francis’ Laudato Si’ as an appeal to foster care for all; 3) A theological reinterpretation of “rada”, and 4) Care ethics as an injunction to revalue care as a social good. Incorporating Pope Francis’ message in Laudato Si’, this paper hopes to underscore promoting a culture of caring through collective dialogue. References Anderlik, Mary R. The Ethics of Managed Care: A Pragmatic Approach. Bloomingdale: Indiana University Press. 2001. Blair-Loy, Mary. Competing Devotions: Career and Family among Women Executives. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press. 2003. Frank Parsons, Susan, ed. The Cambridge Companion to Feminist Theology. Cambridge: Margaret Beaufort Institute of Theology, 2002. Frank Parsons, Susan. Feminism and Christian Ethics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996. Gardner, E. Clinton. Justice and Christian Ethics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995. Gensler, Harry J., Earl W.Spurgin, and James C.Swindal, eds. Ethics: Contemporary Readings. New York: Routledge, 2004. Greene-Mccreight, Kathryn. Feminist Reconstructions of Christian Doctrine: Narrative Analysis and Appraisal. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000. Grimshaw, Jean. Philosophy and Feminist Thinking. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1986. Groenhout, Ruth E. “I Can’t Say No: Self-Sacrifice and an Ethics of Care,” in Ruth E. Groenhout and Marya Bower, eds. Philosophy, Feminism, and Faith, pp. 152-174. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2003. Groenhout, Ruth E. and Marya Bower, eds. Philosophy, Feminism, and Faith. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2003. Hampton, Jean. “Feminist Contractarianism,” in in Louise Antony and Charlotte Witt, eds. A Mind of One’s Own, pp. 227–255. Boulder, Colo.: Westview Press, 1993. Held, Virginia. ‘The Ethics of Care’ in David Copp, ed. The Oxford Handbook of Ethical Theory. New York: Oxford University Press, 2006. Held, Virginia. The Ethics of Care: Personal, Political, and Global. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006. Hilkert Andolsen, Barbara. “Agape in Feminist Ethics,” The Journal of Religious Ethics 9 (1981): 69–83. Hoagland, Sarah Lucia. “Some Thoughts on ‘Caring,’” in Claudia Card, ed. Feminist Ethics, pp. 246–63. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1991. Hoffman, Martin L. Empathy and Moral Development: Implications for Caring and Justice. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000 Homiak, Marcia. “Feminism and Aristotle’s Rational Ideal,” in Louise Antony and Charlotte Witt, eds. A Mind of One’s Own, pp.1–18. Boulder, Colo.: Westview Press, 1993. Hoose, Bernard. Christian Ethics: An Introduction. London: Continuum, 1998. Isherwood, Lisa and Kathleen McPhillips, eds. Post-Christian Feminisms: A Critical Approach. Hampshire. England: Ashgate, 2008. Jardine, Alice and Paul Smith, eds. Men in Feminism. New York: Routledge, 1987. Kieran Cronin. Rights and Christian Ethics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992. Macrae, Janet A. Nursing as a Spiritual Practice: A Contemporary Application of Florence Nightingale's Views. New York: Springer Publishing Company. 2001. Michael Slote, Morals from Motives. New York: Oxford University Press, 2001. Murphy, Peter F. Feminism and Masculinities: Oxford Readings in Feminism. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004. Murray, Mary. The Law of the Father? Patriarchy in the Transition from Feudalism to Capitalism London: Routledge, 1995. Outka, Gene. “Universal Love and Impartiality.” In Edmund Santurri and William Werpehowski, eds. The Love Commandments: Essays in Christian Ethics and Moral Philosophy. Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press, 1992. Parks, Jennifer A. No Place Like Home? Feminist Ethics and Home Health Care. Bloomingdale: Indiana University Press. 2003. Post, Stephen. A Theory of Agape: On the Meaning of Christian Love. Lewisburg, Pa.: Bucknell University Press, 1990. Ramsey, Paul. Basic Christian Ethics. Louisville: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1993.

Photo by Sangharsh Lohakare on Unsplash ABSTRACT The public should debate the ethical and social challenges arising from heritable human genome editing (HHGE). The notorious case involving He Jiankui may have led to the disfavor of gene editing and a precautionary approach. While the de facto global moratorium on HHGE is clearly justified considering our current inability to implement it safely and effectively, the difficult ethical considerations should be addressed prior to the ability to initiate widespread HHGE. This piece argues that prospective patients and other members of society beyond the scientific community must be included in the conversation. It emphasizes the potential role of those not directly participating in HHGE science, calling the broader academic community not simply to wait for scientists’ results and only afterward react. Pointing to key historical examples, I contend that scientific progress is intrinsically linked with the surrounding societal discussion and that it is not only scientists who can influence where the HHGE story ends. INTRODUCTION l. Rogue Scientists Chinese biophysicist He Jiankui announced the world’s first genetically modified babies in 2018. Naturally, the treatment aroused the attention of the world’s media, which focused on He’s reckless actions. Indeed, in setting up and carrying out the procedure in question, he flouted norms of good scientific practice on a range of levels—errors paid with time in prison. Since the He controversy, few scientists have aggressively approached heritable human genome editing (HHGE) and challenged the current research norms. The most outspoken exception is the Russian molecular biologist Denis Rebrikov of the Pirogov Russian National Research Medical University. He publicly declared his intention to apply clustered regularly interspaced short palindromic repeats (CRISPR) to embryos to help couples avoid passing serious medical conditions to their children. However, Rebrikov met fierce opposition both inside and beyond Russia and, with leading CRISPR scientists and bioethicists abroad describing him as a “cowboy” who had “weak data” and was trying to “grab some attention.”[1] So far, Rebrikov’s plans have failed to come to fruition. Although there are 126 entries listed in a registry of HHGE research recently created by the World Health Organization (WHO),[2],[3] it seems that clinical HHGE has been paused for the time being. ll. Steering the Conversation A section of the scientific community has been trying to steer the ethical debate on HHGE away from the actions of rogue scientists and back to an issue that is central to the matter—the interests of patients. The majority would agree that the most compelling potential application of germline genome editing is for the prevention of devastating genetic conditions, for example, when both parents carry Huntington’s disease, for which “genome editing offers the only prospect of bearing a healthy, genetically related child.”[4] Despite such justification for scientists to continue pursuing research in the area, there has been a notable reticence in the wider academic community regarding making the ethical case for HHGE and clarifying in which medical situations such a technique might be reasonably applied. Even among those who recognize that the HHGE cases' controversies should not be a reason for panic over designer babies, some believe that starting the ethical debate is premature. A key part of the argument is that the current technological and scientific knowledge available is far from ready to deliver on treatments. A similar stance preventing debate in the wider society is that “difficult questions” about cost, accessibility, and social justice remain.[5] Whether intended or not, the implication is that the position of wider society in the HHGE story should be a reactive one, namely waiting to see what the scientists throw at them and then dealing with it. I argue that there is not only an immediate need for broader academic and societal input on the ethical and social aspects of the HHGE debate but that there is a deep symbiosis between scientific progress and its surroundings, whereby science both shapes and is shaped by the societal environment in which it takes place. The WHO published a position paper, recommendations, and a framework for governance. The framework for governance describes global standards for the governance and oversight of HHGE.[6] The position paper emphasized the importance of global and inclusive dialogue,[7] and many other boards have also called for broad public engagement.[8] It is imperative that WHO’s governance framework meets everyone’s needs. After all, as with any medical treatment, it is not the scientist who developed the treatment or the doctor who delivers it that is most important– that honor falls to the patient. In the case of HHGE, the beneficiaries include those members of society who hope to reproduce. Yet HHGE has the potential to impact society. We all should have an opportunity to be a part of world-changing decisions that lead to the creation are made and feel a responsibility to participate. lll. Shutting Down the Academic Debate At the 30th Annual Conference of the Japanese Association for Bioethics, which took place in late 2018 after He’s experiment, the discussion about HHGE was shut down quickly. Notwithstanding the understandable issues raised with He’s case, one participant after another stood up to voice support for an outright and complete ban on the use of CRISPR.[9] The ban was based on the grounds that editing the human genome would result in a cascade of unforeseen and irreversible consequences for future generations. One participant forcefully argued that “the deoxyribose nucleic acid (DNA) rubicon should never be crossed for above all, it was deeply immoral to do so when there was no way of obtaining the consent of those who would actually stand affected—our descendants.”[10] Another saw it as putting humanity on a slippery slope toward enhancements, and some feared the catastrophic mistakes that might result from their use.[11] While the above event provides just one snapshot of the debate that was taking place around the world at the time, it captures the strong reservations in the scientific community. It is a common view, not only in Japan, that the human genome is something sacred, a relic handed down from generations, that we ought to treasure and preserve. In support of such a view, religious and other more pragmatic reasons are offered. For example, some may fear the disasters that might befall us if we choose to intervene in the process through which we pass our genetic code from one generation to another. Such arguments are certainly still at the heart of the ethical debate, but the foundations upon which they are built are by no means universally accepted. Stanford University bioethicist Henry Greely writes, “the human germline genome” does not exist; instead, each of us has a unique genome.[12] Greely argues that HHGE is no different from the changes our genomes have undergone through numerous medical interventions. For example, synthetic insulin has increased the number of people with DNA variations that lead to diabetes. Those with this condition would have died as a child in the past. However, now they live long enough to be able to reproduce. Similarly, the transition from hunting to farming centuries ago resulted in a greater number of copies in our gene pool of starch-digesting genes. Yet Greely suggested that, practically, HHGE is “not very useful in the near- to midterm” (by which he means “the next several decades”)[13] “mainly because other technologies can attain almost all the important hoped-for benefits of [HHGE], often with lower risk,” citing embryo selection and somatic gene editing as two alternative options. Greely argued that applying HHGE for enhancement beyond disease prevention and is currently not a realistic option because we lack the necessary knowledge. In Greely’s opinion, “how worried should we be [about HHGE]…? A bit, but not very and not about much.”[14] Greely’s assertions that other scientific debates should take precedence and that the concerns are not ripe for debate yet are concerning. lV. Why Shutting Down the Debate Might Not be a Good Idea First, the timeframe described by Greely seems somewhat out of line with that described by leading scientists. As far back as 2018, at the same Summit where He made his revelations, George Q. Daley stressed that HHGE is scientifically feasible here and that the ethical considerations can no longer be put off: “…a number of groups have applied gene editing now to human embryos in the context of in vitro fertilization and attempting to determine variations of a protocol that would enhance the fidelity and reduce mosaicism. I think there has been an emerging consensus that the off-target problem is manageable, and in some cases even infinitesimal. There are some interesting proofs of principles, like diseases such as beta-thalassemia that could potentially be approached with this strategy.”[15] It would also be possible to challenge Greely on various other aspects. One of which would be the number of cases to which HHGE would be relevant and the kinds of moral allowances that might be made, and each case concludes that more urgency is required in the ethical debate. Greely suggests that most people can use preimplantation genetic testing (PGD), which is the embryo selection process, and that perhaps HHGE could apply to couples where both have the same autosomal recessive gene.[16] Greely rules out considering HHGE in cases where PGD is applicable. Greely concedes PGD does not already represent the answer on this topic, as it often fails to provide couples with enough healthy embryos to transfer. As a resolution to this issue, he points to the creation of eggs using induced pluripotent stem cell (iPSC) techniques, whereby eggs can potentially be created from other cells.[17] However, given the extremely limited success of iPSCs in the clinical arena to date, in vitro gametogenesis is a highly speculative solution. Certainly, the progress of iPSC research is not such a safe bet that placing all our hopes on it at the expense of HHGE techniques is currently justified. (Also, it should be noted that making eggs using the iPSC technique is hardly an ethical problem-free area itself.) In summary, the cases of couples looking to conceive that Greely rules out by pointing to PGD should be kept on the HHGE table, as various other scholars have suggested.[18] Many of us debating HHGE are not scientists, so the best we can do is draw from the information we glean from those more technically capable. As a society, we are not just passive observers of science; we should have influence over decisions that impact society. Indeed, even if the available science is not yet at a place where we should be worried about large-scale ethical and social concerns, the story will continue to unfold in the future. While Greely is happy to see the human race “muddle through” the ethical challenges of scientific breakthroughs, such a position fails to recognize that society at large is far from powerless. V. Society Influencing Scientific Progress There are some notable examples of society’s impact on scientific progress. For example, political policies led to the development of nuclear technology for war and strategic deterrence, despite societal objections seen through demonstrations of people protesting using the slogan “no nukes.” Furthermore, the Bush administration drastically limited the use of embryonic stem cells in the 2000s due to a strong religious and cultural influence on policy.[19] Societal debate potentially serves as a powerful factor in guiding science. Where societal acceptance is ambiguous, science tends to operate on its own. But where science would impact life’s fundamental issues like war, how embryos should be valued, or the end of life, society should weigh in and influence the role of science. Societal views on the current global moratorium on HHGE could lead to a ban, as has been advocated.[20] On the other hand, societal views that value HHGE as a way to expand reproductive autonomy may justify permitting its use. Opening an ethics debate about it would enable scientists to pursue technologies that society deems justifiable as well as set limits for where they should stop. Making this process more difficult, the He affair has clearly colored public discourse on HHGE in a way that inhibits debate. In Japan, a sequence of questionnaires in 2016, 2018, and 2019 showed that the widely publicized HHGE scandal led to a significant decline in the acceptance of genome editing technology in general, particularly for human reproduction. Specifically, the surveys revealed a stark rise in disapproval of the technology’s use on fertilized human eggs—from 12 percent in 2018 to 29 percent in 2019.[21] The three scientists that conducted these surveys suggested that “the news of the twin babies in China had a substantial influence on the Japanese public,” damaging the reputation of HHGE.[22] It seems likely that the public distaste for HHGE was prompted by He’s research rather than considerations about the scientific potential of HHGE The change in public opinion may also make politicians and scientists more hesitant when it comes to taking the lead in the HHGE debate. Ultimately, this can restrict the public discussion of the central ethical challenges of the technology and hinder efforts to determine whether there is a responsible path forward other than an outright ban. Stressing the importance of the issue again to potential patients and failing to engage further with the HHGE debate is surely not something society should allow. While there are many important ongoing debates about genetics, like biohacking and DIY hobbyists, HHGE deserves attention as well. In fact, attention to the ethics of HHGE should help — more awareness of how these tools can be applied and what germline genome editing is will make people more alert to the existing danger and better understand how to mitigate it. Perhaps more importantly, a clear message from society to researchers about what objectives are reasonable to pursue regarding the HHGE technologies will facilitate good science. Having a publicly determined criterion would allow scientists to not live in fear that they might be blacklisted for seeking progress in grey areas and instead confidently chase progress where it is allowed. Vl. What Now? HHGE is here (or will be soon) and brings many ethical and social challenges. However, the challenges should not be left to individual scientists and couples in desperate situations to manage alone. Moving toward how these challenges can be met practically, it is helpful to draw a parallel with the issue of implementing human rights. In the early 21st century, political philosopher Michael Freeman of the University of Essex lamented that implementing human rights had been left to lawyers. Although legal experts were clearly essential in putting together the global human rights framework, Freeman’s concern was that they were not best placed to understand implementing human rights in various contexts. Setting out a broader, interdisciplinary approach, he called for social scientists to tackle these difficult questions, ultimately moving human rights forward around the world. Similarly, in medical technology like HHGE, scientists are crucial to the story, but at the same time, they are not trained to deal with all the accompanying challenges. Bioethicists are also important, clarifying the arguments that society needs to resolve. There is a need for even wider input from across the scholarly community. For instance, as with human rights, international and domestic regulation is required, and clearly, the legal community has a role here. Moreover, as described by Freeman, since all law is political in its creation and has impacts across society, political scientists and sociologists can provide impactful input. CONCLUSION We are in it together, and we have roles to play in the discussion of HHGE. Societal discourse does not always trail the scientific reality, but rather, it can condition the path that science will follow. Given the importance of what is at stake, not only for the potential patients, but for humanity, we should not leave the HHGE debate only to scientists, and we should not leave it until later. - [1] Cohen J. “Embattled Russian scientist sharpens plans to create gene-edited babies,” Science, 21 Oct. 2019. doi:10.1126/science.aaz9337. [2] World Health Organization. “WHO issues new recommendations on human genome editing for the advancement of public health,” News release, 12 July 2021, www.who.int/news/item/12-07-2021-who-issues-new-recommendations-on-human-genome-editing-for-the-advancement-of-public-health. [3] World Health Organization. “Human Genome Editing Registry,” https://www.who.int/groups/expert-advisory-committee-on-developing-global-standards-for-governance-and-oversight-of-human-genome-editing/registry. [4] Daley GQ, Lovell-Badge R, and Steffann J. “After the Storm–A Responsible Path for Genome Editing,” New England Journal of Medicine 380, no. 10 (2019): 897-9. doi:10.1056/NEJMp1900504. [5] Daley GQ, Lovell-Badge R, and Steffann J. “After the Storm–A Responsible Path for Genome Editing,” New England Journal of Medicine 380, no. 10 (2019): 897-9. doi:10.1056/NEJMp1900504 [6] World Health Organization. “WHO issues new recommendations on human genome editing for the advancement of public health,” News Release, July 12, 2021, www.who.int/news/item/12-07-2021-who-issues-new-recommendations-on-human-genome-editing-for-the-advancement-of-public-health. [7] WHO 2021. Human Genome Editing: Position Paper, WHO Expert Advisory Committee on Developing Global Standards for Governance and Oversight of Human Genome Editing. [8] Daley GQ, Lovell-Badge R, and Steffann J. “After the Storm–A Responsible Path for Genome Editing,” New England Journal of Medicine 380, no. 10 (2019): 897-9. doi:10.1056/NEJMp1900504. [9] 30th Annual Conference of the Japanese Association for Bioethics, 8-9 Dec. 2018, Kyoto Prefectural University, Kyoto. [10] 30th Annual Conference of the Japanese Association for Bioethics, 8-9 Dec. 2018, Kyoto Prefectural University, Kyoto. [11] 30th Annual Conference of the Japanese Association for Bioethics, 8-9 Dec. 2018, Kyoto Prefectural University, Kyoto. [12] Greely HT. “Why the Panic Over ‘Designer Babies’ Is the Wrong Worry,” LeapsMag, 30 Oct. 2017, leapsmag.com/much-ado-about-nothing-much-crispr-for-human-embryo-editing; Greely HT. “CRISPR’d babies: human germline genome editing in the ‘He Jiankui Affair’,” Journal of Law and the Biosciences 2019; 6(1): 111–83. doi: 10.1093/jlb/lsz010; Greely HT. CRISPR People: The Science and Ethics of Editing Humans (Massachusetts: Massachusetts Institute of Technology Press, 2021). [13] Greely HT. “Why the Panic Over ‘Designer Babies’ Is the Wrong Worry,” LeapsMag, 30 Oct. 2017, leapsmag.com/much-ado-about-nothing-much-crispr-for-human-embryo-editing. [14] Greely HT. “Why the Panic Over ‘Designer Babies’ Is the Wrong Worry,” LeapsMag, 30 Oct. 2017, leapsmag.com/much-ado-about-nothing-much-crispr-for-human-embryo-editing. [15] Daley, G. (n.d.). Genome-editing-pathways to Translation. Transcript of the Human-Genome Editing Summit 2018 Hong Kong. Retrieved March 17, 2022, from https://diyhpl.us/wiki/transcripts/human-genome-editing-summit/2018-hong-kong/george-daley-genome-editing-pathways-to-translation/ [16] Greely HT. “CRISPR’d babies: human germline genome editing in the ‘He Jiankui affair’,” Journal of Law and the Biosciences 2019: 6(1): 111–83. doi:10.1093/jlb/lsz010. [17] Greely HT. CRISPR People: The Science and Ethics of Editing Humans (Massachusetts: Massachusetts Institute of Technology Press, 2021). [18] Rasnich R. “Germline genome editing versus preimplantation genetic diagnosis: Is there a case in favour of germline interventions?.” Bioethics 2020; 34(1): 60–9. [19] Murugan, Varnee. “Embryonic stem cell research: a decade of debate from Bush to Obama.” The Yale journal of biology and medicine vol. 82,3 (2009): 101-3. [20] Lander E, Baylis F, Zhang F, et al. “Adopt a moratorium on heritable genome editing,” Nature 2019; 567(7747): 165–8. pmid:30867611. [21] Watanabe D, Sato Y, Tsuda M, and Ohsawa R. Increased awareness and decreased acceptance of genome-editing technology: The impact of the Chinese twin babies. PLoS ONE 2000; 15(1): 1-13. doi:10.1371/journal.pone.0238128. [22] Watanabe D, Sato Y, Tsuda M, and Ohsawa R. Increased awareness and decreased acceptance of genome-editing technology: The impact of the Chinese twin babies. PLoS ONE 2000; 15(1): 1-13. doi:10.1371/journal.pone.0238128.

As the use of social networks becomes increasingly commonplace, scholars have observed that associated requirements arise relating to how one’s digital self is practised, worked on, and disseminated (Cover; Miller; Papacharissi). Since the earliest forms of online interaction, scholars have tracked the importance of the question of “realness” in identity and social groupings (Burkhalter; Donath; O’Brien). More recently, as people become more connected, connect-able and subject to peer (as well as corporate and government surveillance) (van Zoonen), digital media cultures have increasingly demanded the performance of authenticity as part of the work of belonging online (Banet-Weiser; Keller). Drawing on Banet-Weiser’s and Keller’s work in particular, “authenticity” is defined here as the quality of being considered consistently “true to oneself” in a way which is socially legitimated. I suggest, online, that this demand for authenticity is manifested through two poles of authenticity: authentic individuality and authentic belonging. In this paper, I discuss the interplay between authentic individuality and authentic belonging in (postfeminist) digital cultures, by using the case study of a set of meme blogs narrating youthful femininity on blogging social network Tumblr. This meme set, based on Tumblr blog “WhatShouldWeCallMe” (WSWCM), sets out a self-representative affective account of quotidian feminine experiences. In a set of six blogs of this meme set, including the “founder”, I consider the production of authenticities where the simultaneous importance of connection and imitative differentiation is foregrounded, tracking the way authenticity is practised in the founder and follower meme blogs. I contend that the WSWCM founder claims authentic individuality, producing itself through claims to originality, and pre-existing “best girlfriendship”. I then suggest that the follower meme blogs foreground authentic digital belonging, by exhibiting certain affective cultural literacies that demonstrate insider status in this intimate digital feminine public (Berlant). I surmise these strategies are used to manage the demands of tension between proving one’s true and individual self and the need to be recognised as belonging through commonality. The Authentic Self Brand and the Authentic Insider I suggest that one expression of authentic individuality can be found in the increasingly prevalent practice of self-branding in digital cultures on social network sites (Banet-Weiser). In what Banet-Weiser calls “the authentic self-brand”, one sets up a simultaneous relationship to oneself, and a relationship between oneself and one’s audience. This double relationship is one of “innovation, production, and consumption [of the self], charged with ideally producing a unique, ‘authentic’ self” (73) for others. The self-social relationship offered by the authentic self-brand dovetails with what scholars identify as a postfeminist media landscape in the West (Gill; McRobbie; Negra). Postfeminist narratives promote highly commercial paradigms of self-surveillance, self-regulation and self-improvement, particularly for young women (Gill, McRobbie), whereby one’s body, social practices and relationships are evaluated as part of the marketability of one’s self-brand (Banet-Weiser, Winch). In this marketised recasting of social relationships, one must treat oneself as a product to be invested in, and remain vigilantly aware of how one is perceived by an audience of potential “buyers”. Notably, postfeminism relies on the idea of a deep, inhering individuality to justify the injunction to marketise oneself (Gill). Following this logic, gendered practices which may improve one’s feminine “self-brand” such as attention to beauty practices and body shape, must be cast as for “oneself” and part of one’s “true desires”. This occurs in a landscape where it is widely presumed that feminism has done its work, and women are now “free” to perform femininity however they wish (Gill). In postfeminist digital cultures, proving one’s acts are done for one’s true self, not for others becomes crucial in demonstrating one’s feminine authenticity (Dobson, Individuality; Performative), even as one is aware of the social value of one’s profile or digital brand (Banet-Weiser, Ringrose and Barajas). Drawing on this body of work, I suggest that authentic individuality, performed through imperviousness to social influence, is the way in which these contradictions of the postfeminist self-brand are justified. At the same time, digital cultures can also be argued to offer “remix” spaces (Lessig) where the borrowing, imitation and adaptation of existing cultural artefacts demonstrates personally felt connections to wider social meanings. One common manifestation of this is the Internet “meme”, a unit of culture which relies on imitative adaptation and differentiation in its circulation (Shifman), which I discuss further in this article. Shifman illustrates the meme as a mode of interpretive connection with the example of YouTube meme “Leave Britney Alone”, which began with the founder meme video by actor Chris Crocker making an emotional plea that society leave singer Britney Spears in peace. Memes signal dominant social understandings of the original cultural unit: Shifman notes that with the “Leave Britney Alone” meme, the follower memes tended to mock Crocker’s perceived effeminacy, sexuality and excessiveness in their re-enactments of Crocker’s founder video. Authenticity in these forms of digital production might be argued to signify more about desires for legitimate or authentic belonging within digital publics as insiders, rather than proving a fundamental individuality. WhatShouldWeCallMe and Tumblr Remix Culture Tumblr is a relatively under-researched but rapidly growing blogging social network, documented at the end of 2014 as the social platform with the most growth in user numbers (Lunden). Tumblr is known as a promising hub of burgeoning visual youth cultures (Third and Hart), possibly due to its norms of anonymity and significant pop culture content of posts. Images are a dominant form of communication on the site, and most content on Tumblr is public. Notably, 70% of Tumblr traffic occurs internally through the repurposing and reblogging of posts in the “dashboard” area (the equivalent being the “newsfeed’ for Facebook), rather than from external sources (Walker). Tumblr users are able to follow each other, and like and reblog each other’s posts. However, direct comments on posts are not an available feature, unlike most “first wave” (Miller and Fink) blogging sites; if a user wishes to comment on a post, they can only do so when reblogging the post, which is then featured on their own blog. According to Tumblr founder David Karp, this feature discourages overly negative comments and flame wars because “if you’re going to be a jerk, you’re looking like a jerk in your own space” (Walker). These structures set up Tumblr as an ideal site for the production of memes as part of its remix culture, whilst still adhering to certain connective features of other social networks. To provide some context, the founder WSWCM blog boasted 50,000 new Tumblr followers in the month following its creation in 2012, with independent traffic reports logging the number of page views as one to two million per day (Casserly). Each post on the founder WSWCM is on average liked and reblogged by hundreds of other Tumblr users, but its significance, which I consider here, lies in the way that it has been taken up in a prolific variety of follower meme blogs. Interestingly, unlike “Leave Britney Alone”, the form of imitative differentiation here is keyed at speaking at a more self-representative level, rather than making a comment on or satirising the founder, suggesting a level of personal connection. Like “Leave Britney Alone”, the WSWCM meme set can be understood as a founder-based meme (Shifman), with one originating, successful meme text which then inspires many follower memes, which are usually less successful. The follower memes I consider here adapt the GIF-reaction format which is used to narrate everyday experiences of youthful femininity. Blog posts are produced by matching a GIF image to situations such as “when my boyfriend forgets to DVR the Voice” or “when I hear my frenemy got dumped by her boyfriend”. GIFs are moving photo files excerpting about three seconds of movement from popular culture ranging from film, television and YouTube videos. It must be stressed that the term “follower” does not necessarily connote a lack of originality. The imitation of the follower blogs is strategic: a deliberate, slight differentiation, which operates to set them apart, but still locates them within a youthful feminine public. The emergence of the WSWCM follower blogs is a dynamic one which, I suggest, has catalysed the founder to intensify its claims to legitimacy through authentic originality even as its funny and creative followers throw its uniqueness into question. The Founder Meme Blog: Best Friendship as Authenticity Practice One key way that the WSWCM founder makes claims to authenticity is through a “best girlfriendship”, which is also explicitly articulated as the driving force for the maintenance of the blog, rather than Tumblr followers or outside audiences. Whilst ads are hosted on the founder blog, it is explained that these are almost ancillary—“to pay the bills” of purchasing material to create the GIFs, pay for the site design, web-hosting fees, and other costs. The almost romantic figure of the female “best friend” features significantly, fitting with Winch’s claim that the female best friend becomes a new “soul mate”, beyond one’s (heterosexual) partner in postfeminist girlfriend culture. In this way, we see how certain social relationships become recognisable as authentic. The founder bloggers state in their FAQs: We are two best friends who met in college and now live on opposite coasts (of the United States). We used to send each other funny .gifs as a way of staying in touch, and decided to start a tumblr that both of us could check during the day. We thought we were just posting inside jokes, but are thrilled that other people find them as funny as we do. We never really intended for anyone else to see it. Whilst now, with potentially hundreds of thousands of followers, it is difficult to maintain that the blog is maintained solely as a means of keeping in contact, this long distance girlfriendship can be drawn on to establish the authenticity and social capital for the blog. The best friend is a productive space through which one can express one’s true, individual desires, free of others’ wishes and outside constraints. Many moments expressed in the original blog centre on (very funny) moments that are only shared with the best friend where one can really be “oneself”, such as “when my best friend and I stay in” (for a night in), or “when my best friend and I are DGAF in public” (“don’t give a fuck”). In the blog, the very exclusivity of the female best friend compared to other ambivalent relations with “other girls” and “guys”, can also be understood as a mechanism for carving out a space of feminine individuality. I suggest that this best girlfriendship should be understood as a permutation of the authentic self-brand, practised to achieve a form of authentic individuality. In Winch’s conception, postfeminist girlfriendship is about strategy rather than solidarity; girlfriendship becomes an “investment in the individual” as it is “essential in enabling feminine normativity” (2). This may be reflected in the way best friendship is mobilised as a brand for WSWCM. At its inception, WSWCM only used the “Minimalist” theme for its layout, a free theme offered by Tumblr, which is still visible in the formats of some of the meme blogs. Fig. 1A: “Screenshot of Minimalist Theme in follower blog.” Twodumbgirls.tumblr.com, 16 Feb. 2015.Fig. 1B: “Screenshot of Minimalist Theme in follower blog.” Whatshouldwecollegeme.tumblr.com, 16 Feb. 2015. However, in early 2014 the bloggers changed to a different header to distinguish their site. I suggest this can be understood as a response to establish originality and authenticity through a best friendship brand, in opposition to the other meme blogs, which had also adopted the founder theme. The WSWCM header features cartoonish depictions of the two bloggers, one in New York with the silhouette of skyscrapers behind her, and one on a beach with an open laptop, the blog visible on her screen. Fig. 2: “WhatShouldWeCallMe Header.” Whatshouldwecallme.tumblr.com, 17 Feb. 2015. This header clearly alludes to the fact that the bloggers are separated, in different places, but links them by depicting them as virtually identical. Somewhat similar to “Bratz” dolls, they are both represented with oversized heads, tiny bodies, long hair, and large eyes, with the only differences being that one is blonde with pale skin and blue eyes, the other brunette with tanned skin and green eyes. I suggest that what is striking about this cartoonish image is the way it fits into a commercial genre of representation of “girlfriends”. Further, whilst girlfriends are often positioned as differing, their differences are often positioned as complementary, to strengthen a united co-brand (Winch). The differences here are noticeably nominal, skin-deep—the slight variation in hair, eye and skin colour hint at “‘tantalising differences within a normative paradigm” (Winch 46). I am not suggesting here that the best friendship of the bloggers is artificial or purely commercial, but rather, that this production of digital best friendship coincides with strategies to achieve authentic individuality recognisable in postfeminist digital cultures. The best friend is thus crucial to the performance of authenticity in the original blog. It is important to note, however, that these practices exceed postfeminist self-branding in certain ways. Given that WSWCM has indeed inspired follower memes keyed in a self-representative register, this suggests possibilities of broader connection and a sense of intimacy through recognisability of shared femininity. From one form of insider practice—the WSWCM best girlfriendship—to another, other Tumblr bloggers through follower meme texts have also signalled their insider status, as young women able to narrate forms of feminine experience held out as representative and legitimate. The Follower Meme Blogs: Connective Differentiation In contrast to the founder’s production of authenticity through claims to originality, and through a relationship, which is held out as distinct from the desires to gain Internet followers, authenticity is practised differently in the follower memes. Authentic individuality is decentred; rather, the follower blogs appear to foreground the importance of authentic belonging. This becomes clear in the followers’ imitation of the founder in their positioning as similar, but slightly different. For example, in the blog WhatShouldBetchesCallMe, the blogging subject still narrates quotidian feminine trials and tribulations, but is much more knowingly confident and sassy; in WhatShouldWeCollegeMe, the blog focuses more on the experience of being at university than the founder meme. Shifman foregrounds the process of repackaging and imitation in the adaptation of memes; I suggest that what also must be considered in this meme set is connective differentiation, which repositions this repackaging as simultaneously a form of distancing and connection. Here, the connective differentiation of the follower blogs is a way of citing one’s knowledge and understanding of youthful feminine experience. By creating a self-representative, knowingly derivative but different follower blog in this meme set, this subsequent variation demonstrates one’s legitimate belonging in the feminine public sphere of WSWCM readership. I suggest Berlant’s conceptualisation of intimate publics is useful here in explaining how slight variations on an original theme play out in a culture in which authenticity is held up as essential. Berlant argues that women’s culture in the West, centrally shaped by relations to commodities, creates expectations of both normativity and commonality whereby the market claims to offer texts and objects which are true to women’s “particular core interests and desires” (5). This provides a “generic-but-unique” femininity (6) through which women can expect to be recognisable in this public. Arguably, what the memes opt into—through being recognised as derivative—is a form of recognition in an intimate feminine public. Thus, the follower memes adhere to these rules of recognisability in order to be seen. Recognition as belonging in this intimate public through social knowledge becomes more useful for the follower memes, which cannot rely on the status of originality of the founder meme. What this practice of discerning, connective differentiation may signal is a configuration of authenticity which manages the tension in demands of digital culture— signalling one’s individuality yet demonstrating one’s social embeddedness. As O’Brien (1998) notes in relation to early online social interaction, if one wants to be recognised and recognisable, one must draw on established social, cultural codes. Notably, many of the situations which are put forward in blog posts of the follower memes are not necessarily easily distinguishable in genre or content from the blog posts of the founder memes. Though the founder meme text places particular emphasis on best friendship, other forms of youthful, feminine (middle class) experience are recycled and re-adapted for circulation. Many of the situations which are put forward in the meme set, while creatively assembled, are ultimately generic so that they can be circulated on Tumblr to connect with others. Consequently, posts abound about social rituals of excessive drinking, struggling through university, and inadequacies in flirting technique. However, I note that these generic posts are still specific at the same time, requiring a highly discerning ability to capture and narrativise affective moments from diverse, miscellaneous pop culture material. The well-chosen GIF articulating one’s despondency as a single girl demonstrates a level of cultural and affective awareness of the semiotic intelligibility of the GIF, and the recognisable trials and tribulations of youthful feminine experience. Fig. 3: “When I’m depressed and have too much to drink.” 2ndhand-embarrassment.tumblr.com, 11 Feb. 2015. Thus, showing one’s specific knowledge of shared experience demonstrates an affective authenticity of connection and belonging. This authenticity works to prove one’s digital authority to micro-broadcast one’s life in a youthful feminine public, through showing one’s knowledge of the recognisable pitfalls, idiosyncrasies and experiences of being a young woman. I emphasise that it is this situated knowingness that comes through in the meme set in general, particularly in the follower memes. Given the generic nature of the content of posts across the meme set, the importance of “true” emotion is decentred—rather, what is vital is knowing which affective situations have the capacity to connect and be recognisable. Whilst the revelation of inner emotional truths have otherwise been considered key in the practice of authenticity in celebrity culture (Biressi and Nunn; Hesmondalgh and Baker), I propose that in the context in which this meme set is situated, this is not necessarily the most useful form of social currency. In these remix digital cultures, I suggest the interpretive premise of the digital audience is not that these products of remix literally speak to one’s experiences. Rather, remix cultures provide a means of demonstrating insider knowledge, which connects other insiders—a form of authentic belonging. Conclusion This paper has traced differing practices of feminine authenticity visible in the intersection of social network and remix cultures on Tumblr by examining the WSWCM meme set. I have suggested that the founder meme employs particular strategies of maintaining authentic individuality, such as resorting to the performance of an exclusive, “original” best girlfriendship brand. In contrast, the follower memes perform cultural and affective knowingness of youthful femininity, to assert their digital insider status—and right to belong. This meme set presents some productive questions through which to think through authenticity in digital cultures. Could striving for authentic belonging constitute one strategy of responding to a media-saturated culture, where authentic individuality is constantly elevated yet (perhaps) harder to achieve? These blogs demonstrate how the significance and practice of authenticity transforms in managing different configurations of social desires to belong, or be recognised as individual and original in (postfeminist) digital cultures. References Banet-Weiser, Sarah. Authentic TM. New York, NY: New York UP, 2012. Beer, David, and Roger Burrows. “Popular Culture, Digital Archives and the New Social Life of Data.” Theory, Culture & Society 30.4 (2013): 47–71. Berlant, Lauren Gail. The Female Complaint. Durham: Duke UP, 2008. Burkhalter, Byron. "Reading Race Online: Discovering Racial Identity in Usenet Discussions." Communities in Cyberspace. Eds. Marc A. Smith and Peter Kollock. London: Routledge, 1999. 59–74. Casserly, Meghan. “#Whatshouldwecallme Revealed: The 24-Year Old Law Students behind the New Tumblr Darling.” Forbes 29 Mar 2012: n.p. 23 Dec. 2014 ‹http://www.forbes.com/sites/meghancasserly/2012/03/29/whatshouldwecallme-revealed-24-year-old-law-students-tumblr-darling/›. Cover, Rob. “Performing and Undoing Identity Online: Social Networking, Identity Theories and the Incompatibility of Online Profiles and Friendship Regimes.” Convergence: The International Journal of Research into New Media Technologies 18.2 (2012): 177–93. Dobson, Amy Shields. “Performative Shamelessness on Young Women's Social Network Sites: Shielding the Self and Resisting Gender Melancholia.” Feminism & Psychology 24.1 (2013): 97–114. Dobson, Amy Shields. “'Individuality is Everything': 'Autonomous Femininity' in Myspace Mottos and Self–Descriptions.” Continuum 26.3 (2012): 371–83. Donath, Judith. "Identity and Deception in the Virtual Community." Communities in Cyberspace. Eds. Marc A. Smith and Peter Kollock. London: Routledge, 1999. 27–57. Fink, Marty, and Quinn Miller. “Trans Media Moments: Tumblr, 2011–2013.” Television & New Media 15.7 (2013): 611–26. Gill, Rosalind. Gender and the Media. Cambridge, UK: Polity, 2007. Hesmondhalgh, David, and Sarah Baker. Creative Labour. London: Routledge, 2011. Keller, Jessalynn Marie. “Fiercely Real?: Tyra Banks and the Making of New Media Celebrity.” Feminist Media Studies 14.1 (2012): 147–64. Lessig, Lawrence. Remix. New York: Penguin P, 2008. Lunden, Ingrid. “Tumblr Overtakes Instagram as Fastest-Growing Social Platform, Snapchat Is the Fastest-Growing App.” TechCrunch 25 Nov. 2014: n.p. 23 Dec. 2014 ‹http://techcrunch.com/2014/11/25/tumblr-overtakes-instagram-as-fastest-growing-social-platform-snapchat-is-the-fastest-growing-app/›. McRobbie, Angela. The Aftermath of Feminism. London: SAGE Publications, 2009. Miller, Vincent. Understanding Digital Culture. London: SAGE Publications, 2011. Negra, Diane. What a Girl Wants? Fantasising the Reclamation of Self in Postfeminism. London: Routledge, 2009. Nunn, Heather, and Anita Biressi. “'A Trust Betrayed': Celebrity and the Work Of Emotion.” Celebrity Studies 1.1 (2010): 49–64. O’Brien, Jodi. "Writing in the Body: Gender (Re)production in Online Interaction." Communities in Cyberspace. Eds. Marc A. Smith and Peter Kollock. London: Routledge, 1999. 75–103. Papacharissi, Zizi. A Networked Self. New York: Routledge, 2011. Ringrose, Jessica, and Katarina Eriksson Barajas. “Gendered Risks and Opportunities? Exploring Teen Girls’ Digitized Sexual Identities in Postfeminist Media Contexts.” International Journal of Media & Cultural Politics 7.2 (2011): 121–38. Shifman, Limor. Memes in Digital Culture. Cambridge, Massachusetts: MIT P, 2014. Van Doorn, Niels, Sally Wyatt, and Liesbet van Zoonen. “A Body of Text.” Feminist Media Studies 8.4 (2008): 357–74. Van Zoonen, Liesbet. “From Identity to Identification: Fixating the Fragmented Self.” Media, Culture & Society 35.1 (2013): 44­–51. Walker, Rob. “Can Tumblr’s™ David Karp Embrace Ads without Selling Out?” New York Times 12 July 2012: n.p. 23 Dec. 2014 ‹http://www.nytimes.com/2012/07/15/magazine/can-tumblrs-david-karp-embrace-ads-without-selling-out.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0›. Winch, Alison. Girlfriends and Postfeminist Sisterhood. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013.

Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash ABSTRACT COVID-19 highlighted a disproportionate impact upon marginalized communities that needs to be addressed. Specifically, a focus on equity rather than equality would better address and prevent the disparities seen in COVID-19. A distributive justice framework can provide this great benefit but will succeed only if the medical community engages in outreach, anti-racism measures, and listens to communities in need. INTRODUCTION COVID-19 disproportionately impacted communities of color and lower socioeconomic status, sparking political discussion about existing inequities in the US.[1] Some states amended their guidelines for allocating resources, including vaccines, to provide care for marginalized communities experiencing these inequities, but there has been no clear consensus on which guidelines states should amend or how they should be ethically grounded. In part, this is because traditional justice theories do not acknowledge the deep-seated institutional and interpersonal discrimination embedded in our medical system. Therefore, a revamped distributive justice approach that accounts for these shortcomings is needed to guide healthcare decision-making now and into the post-COVID era. BACKGROUND Three terms – health disparity, health inequities, and health equity – help frame the issue. A health disparity is defined as any difference between populations in terms of disease incidence or adverse health events, such as morbidity or mortality. In contrast, health inequities are health disparities due to avoidable systematic structures rooted in racial, social, and economic injustice.[2] For example, current data demonstrate that Black, Latino, Indigenous Americans, and those living in poverty suffer higher morbidity and mortality rates from COVID-19.[3] Finally, health equity is the opportunity for anyone to attain his or her full health potential without interference from systematic structures and factors that generate health inequities, including race, socioeconomic status, gender, ethnicity, religion, sexual orientation, or geography.[4] ANALYSIS Health inequities for people of color with COVID-19 have led to critiques of states that do not account for race in their resource allocation guidelines.[5] For example, the Massachusetts Department of Public Health revised its COVID-19 guidelines regarding resource allocation to patients with the best chance of short-term survival.[6] Critics have argued that this change addresses neither preexisting structural inequities nor provider bias that may have led to comorbidities and increased vulnerability to COVID-19. By failing to address race specifically, they argue the policy will perpetuate poorer outcomes in already marginalized groups. As the inequities in COVID-19 outcomes continue to be uncovered and the data continue to prove that marginalized communities suffered disproportionately, we, as healthcare providers, must reconsider our role in addressing the injustices. Our actions must be ethically grounded in the concept of justice. l. Primary Theories of Justice The principle of justice in medical ethics relates to how we ought to treat people and allocate resources. Multiple theories have emerged to explain how justice should be implemented, with three of the most prominent being egalitarianism, utilitarianism, and distributive. This paper argues that distributive justice is the best framework for remedying past actions and enacting systemic changes that may persistently prevent injustices. An egalitarian approach to justice states all individuals are equal and, therefore, should have identical access to resources. In the allocation of resources, an egalitarian approach would support a strict distribution of equal value regardless of one’s attributes or characteristics. Putting this theory into practice would place a premium on guidelines based upon first-come, first-served basis or random selection.[7] However, the egalitarian approach taken in the UK continues to worsen health inequities due to institutional and structural discrimination.[8] A utilitarian approach to justice emphasizes maximizing overall benefits and achieving the greatest good for the greatest number of people. When resources are limited, the utilitarian principle historically guides decision-making. In contrast to the egalitarian focus on equal distribution, utilitarianism focuses on managing distributions to maximize numerical outcomes. During the COVID-19 pandemic, guidelines for allocating resources had utilitarian goals like saving the most lives, which may prioritize the youthful and those deemed productive in society, followed by the elderly and the very ill. It is important to reconsider using utilitarian approaches as the default in the post-COVID healthcare community. These approaches fail to address past inequity, sacrificing the marginalized in their emphasis on the greatest amount of good rather than the type of good. Finally, a distributive approach to justice mandates resources should be allocated in a manner that does not infringe individual liberties to those with the greatest need. Proposed by John Rawls in a Theory of Justice, this approach requires accounting for societal inequality, a factor absent from egalitarianism and utilitarianism.[9] Naomi Zack elaborates how distributive justice can be applied to healthcare, outlining why racism is a social determinant of health that must be acknowledged and addressed.[10] Until there are parallel health opportunities and better alignment of outcomes among different social and racial groups, the underlying systemic social and economic variables that are driving the disparities must be fixed. As a society and as healthcare providers, we should be striving to address the factors that perpetuate health inequities. While genetics and other variables influence health, the data show proportionately more exposure, more cases, and more deaths in the Black American and Hispanic populations. Preexisting conditions and general health disparities are signs of health inequity that increased vulnerability. Distributive justice as a theoretical and applied framework can be applied to preventable conditions that increase vulnerability and can justify systemic changes to prevent further bias in the medical community. During a pandemic, egalitarian and utilitarian approaches to justice are prioritized by policymakers and health systems. Yet, as COVID-19 has demonstrated, they further perpetuate the death and morbidity of populations that face discrimination. These outcomes are due to policies and guidelines that overall benefit white communities over communities of color. Historically, US policy that looks to distribute resources equally (focusing on equal access instead of outcomes), in a color-blind manner, has further perpetuated poor outcomes for marginalized communities.[11] ll. Historical and Ongoing Disparities Across socio-demographic groups, the medical system exacerbates historical and current inequities. Members of marginalized races,[12] women,[13] LGBTQ people,[14] and poor people[15] experience trauma caused by discrimination, marginalization, and failure to access high-quality public and private goods. Through the unequal treatment of marginalized communities, these historic traumas continue. In the US, people of color do not receive equal and fair medical treatment. A meta-analysis found that Hispanics and Black Americans were significantly undertreated for pain compared to their white counterparts over the last 20 years.[16] This is partly due to provider bias. Through interviewing medical trainees, a study by the National Academy of Science found that half of medical students and residents harbored racist beliefs such as “Black people’s nerve endings are less sensitive than white people’s” or “Black people’s skin is thicker than white people’s skin.”[17] More than 3,000 Indigenous American women were coerced, threatened, and deliberately misinformed to ensure cooperation in forced sterilization.[18] Hispanic people have less support in seeking medical care, in receiving culturally appropriate care, and they suffer from the medical community’s lack of resources to address language barriers.[19] In the US, patients of different sexes do not receive the same quality of healthcare. Despite having greater health needs, middle-aged and older women are more likely to have fewer hospital stays and fewer physician visits compared to men of similar demographics and health risk profiles.[20] In the field of critical care, women are less likely to be admitted to the ICU, less likely to receive interventions such as mechanical ventilation, and more likely to die compared to their male ICU counterparts.[21] In the US, patients of different socioeconomic statuses do not receive the same quality of healthcare. Low-income patients are more likely to have higher rates of infant mortality, chronic disease, and a shorter life span.[22] This is partly due to the insurance-based discrimination in the medical community.[23] One in three deaths of those experiencing homelessness could have been prevented by timely and effective medical care. An individual experiencing homelessness has a life expectancy that is decades shorter than that of the average American.[24] lll. Action Needed: Policy Reform While steps need to be taken to provide equitable care in the current pandemic, including the allocation of vaccines, they may not address the historical failures of health policy, hospital policy, and clinical care to eliminate bias and ensure equal treatment of patients. According to an applied distributive justice framework, inequities must be corrected. Rather than focusing primarily on fair resource allocation, medicine must be actively anti-racist, anti-sexist, anti-transphobic, and anti-discriminatory. Evidence has shown that the health inequities caused by COVID-19 are smaller in regions that have addressed racial wealth gaps through forms of reparations.[25] Distributive justice calls for making up for the past using tools of allocation as well as tools to remedy persistent problems. For example, Brigham and Women’s Hospital in Boston, MA, began “Healing ARC,” a pilot initiative that involves acknowledgement, redress, and closure on an institutional level.[26] Acknowledgement entails informing patients about disparities at the hospital, claiming responsibility, and incorporating community ideas for redress. Redress involves a preferential admission option for Black and Hispanic patients to specialty services, especially cardiovascular services, rather than general medicine. Closure requires that community and patient stakeholders work together to ensure that a new system is in place that will continue to prioritize equity. Of note, redress could take the form of cash transfers, discounted or free care, taxes on nonprofit hospitals that exclude patients of color,[27] or race-explicit protocol changes (such as those being instituted by Brigham and Women’s Hospital that admit patients historically denied access to certain forms of medical care). In New York, for instance, the New York State Bar Association drafted the COVID-19 resolutions to ensure that emergency regulations and guidelines do not discriminate against communities of color, and even mandate that diverse patient populations be included in clinical trials.[28] Also, physicians must listen to individuals from marginalized communities to identify needs and ensure that community members take part in decision-making. The solution is not to simply build new health centers in communities of color, as this may lead to tiers of care. Rather, local communities should have a chance to impact existing hospital policy and should also use their political participation to further their healthcare interests. Distributive justice does not seek to disenfranchise groups that hold power in the system. It aims to transform the system so that those in power do not continue to obtain unfair benefits at the expense of others. The framework accounts for unjust historical oppression and current injustices in our system to provide equitable outcomes to all who access the system. In this vein, we can begin to address the flagrant disparities between communities that have always – and continue to – exist in healthcare today.[29] CONCLUSION As equality focuses on access, it currently fails to do justice. Instead of outcomes, it is time to focus on equity. A focus on equity rather than equality would better address and prevent the disparities seen in COVID-19. A distributive justice framework can gain traction in clinical decision-making guidelines and system-level reallocation of resources but will succeed only if the medical community engages in outreach, anti-racism measures, and listens to communities in need. There should be an emphasis on implementing a distributive justice framework that treats all patients equitably, accounts for historical harm, and focuses on transparency in allocation and public health decision-making. [1] APM Research Lab Staff. 2020. “The Color of Coronavirus: COVID-19 Deaths by Race and Ethnicity in the U.S.” APM Research Lab. https://www.apmresearchlab.org/covid/deaths-by-race. [2] Bharmal, N., K. P. Derose, M. Felician, and M. M. Weden. 2015. “Understanding the Upstream Social Determinants of Health.” California: RAND Corporation 1-18. https://www.rand.org/pubs/working_papers/WR1096.html. [3] Yancy, C. W. 2020. “COVID-19 and African Americans.” JAMA. 323 (19): 1891-2. https://doi.org/10.1001/jama.2020.6548; Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. 2020. “COVID-19 in Racial and Ethnic Health Disparities.” Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. https://www.cdc.gov/coronavirus/2019-ncov/community/health-equity/racial-ethnic-disparities/index.html. [4] Braveman, P., E. Arkin, T. Orleans, D. Proctor, and A. Plough. 2017. “What is Health Equity?” Robert Wood Johnson Foundation. https://www.rwjf.org/en/library/research/2017/05/what-is-health-equity-.html. [5] Bedinger, M. 2020 Apr 22. “After Uproar, Mass. Revises Guidelines on Who Gets an ICU Bed or Ventilator Amid COVID-19 Surge.” Wbur. https://www.wbur.org/commonhealth/2020/04/20/mass-guidelines-ventilator-covid-coronavirus; Wigglesworth, A. 2020 May 11. “Institutional Racism, Inequity Fuel High Minority Death Toll from Coronavirus, L.A. Officials Say.” Los Angeles Times. https://www.latimes.com/california/story/2020-05-11/institutional-racism-inequity-high-minority-death-toll-coronavirus. [6] Executive Office of Health and Human Services Department of Public Health. 2020 Oct 20. “Crises Standards of Care Planning and Guidance for the COVID-19 Pandemic.” Commonwealth of Massachusetts. https://www.mass.gov/doc/crisis-standards-of-care-planning-guidance-for-the-covid-19-pandemic. 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I have only ever owned one pig. It didn’t have a name, due as it was for the table. Just pu‘aka. But I liked feeding it; nothing from the household was wasted. I planned not to become attached. We were having a feast and a pig was the one essential requirement. The piglet came to us as a small creature with a curly tail. It would not even live an adult life, as the fully-grown local pig is a fatty beast with little meat. Pigs are mostly killed when partly grown, when the meat/fat ratio is at its optimum. The pig was one of the few animals to accompany Polynesians as they made the slow journey across the islands and oceans from Asia: pigs and chickens and dogs. The DNA of island pigs reveals details about the route taken that were previously hidden (Larsen et al.). Of these three animals, pigs assumed the most ceremonial importance. In Tonga, pigs often live an exalted life. They roam freely, finding food where they can. They wallow. Wherever there is a pool of mud, often alongside a road, there is a pig wallowing. Huge beasts emerge from their pools with dark mud lining their bellies as they waddle off, teats swinging, to another pleasure. Pig snouts are extraordinarily strong; with the strength of a pig behind them, they can dig holes, uproot crops, and generally wreak havoc. How many times have I chased them from my garden, despairing at the loss of precious vegetables I could get no other way? But they must forage. They are fed scraps, and coconut for protein, but often must fend for themselves. Despite the fact that many meet an early death, their lives seem so much more interesting than those lived by the anonymous residents of intensive piggeries in Australia, my homeland. When the time came for the pig to be sacrificed to the demands of the feast, two young Tongan men did the honours. They also cooked the pig on an open fire after skewering it on a pole. Their reward was the roasted sweetmeats. The ‘umu was filled with taro and cassava, yam and sweet potato, along with lū pulu and lū ika: tinned beef and fish cooked in taro leaves and coconut cream. In the first sitting, all those of high status—church ministers, college teachers, important villagers and pālangi like me—had the first pick of the food. Students from the college and lowly locals had the second. The few young men who remained knew it was their task to finish off all of the food. They set about this activity with intense dedication, paying particular attention to the carcass of the pig. By the end of the night, what was left of our little pig was a pile of bones, the skeleton taken apart at every joint. Not a scrap of anything edible remained. In the early 1980s, I went to live on a small island in the Kingdom of Tonga, where my partner was the Principal of an agricultural college, in the main training young men for working small hereditary mixed farms. Memories of that time and a recent visit inform this reflection on the contemporary Tongan diet and problems associated with it. The role of food in a culture is never a neutral issue. Neither is body size, and Tongans have traditionally favoured the large body as an indication of status (Pollock 58). Similarly the capacity to eat has been seen as positive. Many Tongans are larger than is healthy, with 84% of men and 93% of women “considered overweight or obese” (Kirk et al. 36). The rate of diabetes, 80% of it undiagnosed, has doubled since the 1970s to 15% of the adult population (Colagiuri et al. 1378). In the Tongan diaspora there are also high rates of so-called “metabolic syndrome,” leading to this tendency to diabetes and cardiovascular disease. In Auckland, for instance, Pacific Islanders are 2.5 times more likely to suffer from this condition (Gentles et al.). Its chief cause is not, however, genetic, but comes from “differences in obesity,” leading to a much higher incidence of cardiovascular disease and diabetes (Gentles et al.). Deaths from diabetes in Tonga are common. When a minister’s wife in the neighbouring village to mine died, everyone of status on the island attended the putu. Though her gangrenous foot could have been amputated, the family decided against this, and she soon died from the complications of her diabetes. On arrival at the putu, as well as offering gifts such as mats and tapa, participants lined up to pay very personal respects to the dead woman. This took the form of a kiss on her face. I had never touched a dead person before, let alone someone who had died of gangrene, but life in another culture requires many firsts. I bent down and kissed the dry, cold face of a woman who had suffered much before dying. Young men of the family pushed sand over the grave with their own hands as the rest of us stood around, waiting for the funeral food: pigs, yes, but also sweets made from flour and refined sugar. Diet and eating practices are informed by culture, but so are understandings of illness and its management. In a study conducted in New Zealand, sharp differences were seen between the Tongan diaspora and European patients with diabetes. Tongans were more likely “to perceive their diabetes as acute and cyclical in nature, uncontrollable, and caused by factors such as God’s will, pollution in the environment, and poor medical care in the past”, and this was associated “with poorer adherence to diet and medication taking” (Barnes et al. 1). This suggests that as well as being more likely to suffer from illnesses associated with diet and body size, Tongans may also be less likely to manage them, causing these diseases to be even more debilitating. When James Cook visited the Tongan group and naively named them the Friendly Islands, he was given the customary hospitality shown to one of obviously high status. He and his officers were fed regularly by their hosts, even though this must have put enormous pressure on the local food systems, in which later supply was often guaranteed by the imposition of tapu in order to preserve crops and animals. Further pressure was added by exchanges of hogs for nails (Beaglehole). Of course, while they were feeding him royally and entertaining his crew with wrestling matches and dances, the local chiefs of Ha‘apai were arguing about exactly when they were going to kill him. If it were by night, it would be hard to take the two ships. By day, it might be too obvious. They never could agree, and so he sailed off to meet his fate elsewhere (Martin 279-80). As a visitor of status, he was regularly fed pork, unlike most of the locals. Even now, in contemporary Tonga, pigs are killed to mark a special event, and are not eaten as everyday food by most people. That is one of the few things about the Tongan diet that has not changed since the Cook visits. Pigs are usually eaten on formal feasting occasions, such as after church on the Sabbath (which is rigorously kept by law), at weddings, funerals, state occasions or church conferences. During such conferences, village congregations compete with each other to provide the most lavish spreads, with feasting occurring three times a day for a week or more. Though each pola is spread with a range of local root crops, fish and seafood, and possibly beef or even horse, the pola is not complete unless there is at least one pig on it. Pigs are not commercially farmed in Tonga, so these pigs have been hand- and self-raised in and around villages, and are in short supply after these events. And, although feasts are a visible sign of tradition, they are the exception. Tongans are not suffering from metabolic syndrome because they consume too much pork; they are suffering because in everyday life traditional foods have been supplanted by imports. While a range of traditional foods is still eaten, they are not always the first choice. Some imported foods have become delicacies. Mutton flap is a case in point. Known as sipi (sheep), it is mostly fat and bone, and even when barbequed it retains most of its fat. It is even found on outer islands without refrigeration, because it can be transported frozen and eaten when it arrives, thawed. I remember once the local shopkeeper said she had something I might like. A leg of lamb was produced from under the counter, mistakenly packed in the flap box. The cut was so unfamiliar that nobody else had much use for it. The question of why it is possible to get sipi in Tonga and very difficult to get any other kind of fresh meat other than one’s own pigs or chickens raises the question of how Tonga’s big neighbours think of Pacific islands. Such islands are the recipients of Australian and New Zealand aid; they are also the recipients of their waste. It’s not uncommon to find out of date medications, banned agricultural chemicals, and food that is really unsuitable for human consumption. Often the only fresh and affordable meat is turkey tails, chicken backs, and mutton flap. From July 2006 to July 2007, New Zealand exported $73 million worth of sheep off-cuts to the Pacific (Edwardes & Frizelle). Australia and the US account for the supply of turkey tails. Not only are these products some of the few fresh meat sources available, they are also relatively inexpensive (Rosen et al.). These foods are so detrimental to the health of locals that importing them has been banned in Fiji and independent Samoa (Edwardes & Frizelle). The big nations around the Pacific have found a market for the meat by-products their own citizens will not eat. Local food sources have also been supplanted as a result of the high value placed on other foods, like rice, flour and sugar, which from the nineteenth century became associated with “civilisation and progress” (Pollock 233). To counter this, education programs have been undertaken in Tonga and elsewhere in the Pacific in order to promote traditional local foods. These have also sought to address the impact of high food imports on the trade balance (Pollock 232). Food choices are not just determined by preference, but also by cost and availability. Similarly, the Tonga Healthy Weight Loss Program ran during the late 1990s, but it was found that a lack of “availability of healthy low-cost food was a problem” to its success (Englberger et al. 147). In a recent study of Tongan food preferences, it was found that “in general, Tongans prefer healthier traditional, indigenously produced, foods”, but that they are not always available (Evans et al. 170). In the absence of a consistent supply of local protein sources, the often inferior but available imported sources become the default ingredient. Fish in particular are in short supply. Though many Tongans can still be seen harvesting the reef for seafood at low tide, there is no extensive fishing industry capable of providing for the population at large. Intensive farming of pigs has been considered—there was a model piggery on the college where I lived, complete with facilities for methane collection—but it has not been undertaken. Given the strongly ceremonial function of the pig, it would take a large shift in thinking for it to be considered an everyday food. The first cooked pig I encountered arrived at my house in a woven coconut leaf basket, surrounded by baked taro and yam. It was a small pig, given by a family too poor to hold the feast usually provided after church when it was their turn. Instead, they gave the food portion owed directly to the preacher. There’s a faded photo of me squatting on a cracked linoleum floor, examining the contents of the basket, and wondering what on earth I’m going to do with them. I soon learnt the first lesson of island life: food must be shared. With no refrigeration, no family of strapping youths, and no plans to eat the pig myself, it had to be given away to neighbours. It was that simple. Even watermelon went off within the day. In terms of eating, that small pig would have been better kept until a later day, when it reached optimum size, but each family’s obligation came around regularly, and had to be fulfilled. Feasting, and providing for feasting, was a duty, even a fatongia mamafa: a “heavy duty” among many duties, in which the pig was an object deeply “entangled” in all social relations (Thomas). A small pig was big enough to carry the weight of such obligations, even if it could not feed a crowd. Growing numbers of tourists to Tonga, often ignored benignly by their hosts, are keen to snap photos of grazing pigs. It is unusual enough for westerners to see pigs freely wandering, but what is more striking about some pigs on Tongatapu and ‘Eua is that they venture onto the reefs and mudflats at low tide, going after the rich marine pickings, just as their human counterparts do. The silhouette of a pig in the water as the tropical sun sinks behind, caught in a digital frame, it is a striking memory of a holiday in a place that remains largely uninterested in its tourist potential. While an influx of guests is seen by development consultants as the path to the nation’s economic future, Tongans bemusedly refuse to take this possibility seriously (Menzies). Despite a negative trade balance, partly caused by the importation of foreign food, Tonga survives on a combination of subsistence farming and remittances from Tongans living overseas; the tourist potential is largely unrealised. Dirk Spennemann’s work took a strange turn when, as an archaeologist working in Tonga, it became necessary for him to investigate whether these reef-grazing pigs were disturbing midden contents on Tongatapu. In order to establish this, he collected bags of both wet and dry “pig excreta” (107). Spenemann’s methodology involved soaking the contents of these bags for 48 hours, stirring them frequently; “they dissolved, producing considerable smell” (107). Spennemann concluded that pigs do appear to have been eating fish and shellfish, along with grass and “the occasional bit of paper” (107). They also feed on “seaweed and seagrass” (108). I wonder if these food groups have any noticeable impact on the taste of their flesh? Creatures fed particular diets in order to create a certain distinct taste are part of the culinary traditions of the world. The deli around the corner from where I live sells such gourmet items as part of its lunch fare: Saltbush lamb baguettes are one of their favourites. In the Orkneys, the rare and ancient North Ronaldsay Sheep are kept from inland foraging for most of the year by a high stone fence in order to conserve the grass for lambing time. This forces them to eat seaweed on the beach, producing a distinct marine taste, one that is highly valued in certain Parisian restaurants. As an economy largely cut out of the world economic loop, Tonga is unlikely to find select menus on which its reef pigs might appear. While living on ‘Eua, I regularly took a three hour ferry trip to Tongatapu in order to buy food I could not get on my home island. One of these items was wholemeal flour, from which I baked bread in a mud oven we had built outside. Bread was available on ‘Eua, but it was white, light and transported loose in the back of truck. I chose to make my own. The ferry trip usually involved a very rough crossing, though on calmer days, roof passengers would cook sipi on the diesel chimney, added flavour guaranteed. It usually only took about thirty minutes on the way out from Nafanua Harbour before the big waves struck. I could endure them for a while, but soon the waves, combined with a heavy smell of diesel, would have me heading for the rail. On one journey, I tried to hold off seasickness by focussing on an island off shore from Tongatapu. I went onto the front deck of the ferry and faced the full blast of the wind. With waves and wind, it was difficult to stand. I diligently stared at the island, which only occasionally disappeared beneath the swell, but I soon knew that this trip would be like the others; I’d be leaning over the rail as the ocean came up to meet me, not really caring if I went over. I could not bear to share the experience, so in many ways being alone on the foredeck was ideal for me, if I had to be on the boat at all. At least I thought I was alone, but I soon heard a grunt, and looked across to see an enormous sow, trotters tied front and back, lying across the opposite side of the boat. And like me, she too was succumbing to her nausea. Despite the almost complete self-absorption seasickness brings, we looked at each other. I may have imagined an acknowledgement, but I think not. While the status of pigs in Tongan life remains important, in many respects the imposition of European institutions and the availability of imported foods have had an enormous impact on the rest of the Tongan diet, with devastating effects on the health of Tongans. Instead of the customary two slow-cooked meals, one before noon and one in the evening (Pollock 56), consisting mostly of roots crops, plantains and breadfruit, with a relish of meat or fish, most Tongans eat three meals a day in order to fit in with school and work schedules. In current Tongan life, there is no time for an ‘umu every day; instead, quick and often cheaper imported foods are consumed, though local foods can also be cooked relatively quickly. While some still start the day by grabbing a piece of left over cassava, many more would sit down to the ubiquitous Pacific breakfast food: crackers, topped with a slab of butter. Food is a neo-colonial issue. If larger nations stopped dumping unwanted and nutritionally poor food products, health outcomes might improve. Similarly, the Tongan government could tip the food choice balance by actively supporting a local and traditional food supply in order to make it as cheap and accessible as the imported foods that are doing such harm to the health of Tongans References Barnes, Lucy, Rona Moss-Morris, and Mele Kaufusi. “Illness Beliefs and Adherence in Diabetes Mellitus: A Comparison between Tongan and European Patients.” The New Zealand Medical Journal 117.1188 (2004): 1-9. Beaglehole, J.C. Ed. The Journals of Captain James Cook on his Voyages of Discovery: The Voyage of the Resolution and Discovery 1776-1780. Parts I & II. Cambridge: Hakluyt Society, 1967. ­­­____. Ed. The Journals of Captain James Cook on his Voyages of Discovery: The Voyage of the Resolution and Adventure 1772-1775. Cambridge: Hakluyt Society, 1969. Colagiuri, Stephen, Ruth Colgaiuri, Siva Na‘ati, Soana Muimuiheata, Zafirul Hussein, and Taniela Palu. “The Prevalence of Diabetes in the Kingdom of Tonga.” Diabetes Care 28.2 (2002): 1378-83. Edwardes, Brennan, and Frank Frizelle. “Globalisation and its Impact on the South Pacific.” The New Zealand Medical Journal 122.1291 (2009). 4 Aug. 2010 Englberger, L., V. Halavatau, Y. Yasuda, & R, Yamazaki. “The Tonga Healthy Weight Loss Program.” Asia Pacific Journal of Clinical Nutrition 8.2 (1999): 142-48. Gentles, Dudley, et al. “Metabolic Syndrome Prevalence in a Multicultural Population in Auckland, New Zealand.” Journal of the New Zealand Medical Association 120.1248 (2007). 4 Aug. 2010 Kirk, Sara F.L., Andrew J. Cockbain, and James Beasley. “Obesity in Tonga: A cross-sectional comparative study of perceptions of body size and beliefs about obesity in lay people and nurses.” Obesity Research & Clinical Practice 2.1 (2008): 35-41. Larsen, Gregor, et al. “Phylogeny and Ancient DNA of Sus Provides New Insights into Neolithic Expansion in Island Southeast Asia and Oceania.” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America 104.12 (2007): 4834-39. Martin, John. Tonga Islands: William Mariner’s Account, 1817. Neiafu, Tonga: Vava‘u, 1981. Menzies, Isa. “Cultural Tourism and International Development in Tonga: Notes from the Field”. Unpublished paper. Oceanic Passages Conference. Hobart, June 2010. Pollock, Nancy J. These Roots Remain: Food Habits in Islands of the Central and Eastern Pacific since Western Contact. Honolulu: Institute for Polynesian Studies, 1992. Rosen, Rochelle K., Judith DePue, and Stephen T. McGarvey. “Overweight and Diabetes in American Samoa: The Cultural Translation of Research into Health Care Practice.” Medicine and Health/ Rhode Island 91.12 (2008): 372-78. Spennemann, Dirk H.R. “On the Diet of Pigs Foraging on the Mud Flats of Tongatapu: An Investigation in Taphonomy.” Archaeology in New Zealand 37.2 (1994): 104-10. Thomas, Nicholas. Entangled Objects: Exchange, Material Objects and Colonialism in the Pacific. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard UP, 1991.

The advent of the #MeToo movement and the scale of participation in 85 countries (Gill and Orgad; see Google Trends) has greatly expanded debate about the revival of feminism (Winch Littler and Keeler) and the contribution of digital media to a “reconfiguration” of feminism (Jouet). Insofar as these campaigns are concerned with sexual harassment and related forms of sexual abuse, the longer history of sexual harassment in which this practice was named by women’s movement activists in the 1970s has gone largely unremarked except in the broad sense of the recharging or “techno-echo[es]” (Jouet) of earlier “waves” of feminism. However, #MeToo and its companion movement #TimesUp, and its fighting fund timesupnow.org, stemmed directly from the allegations in 2017 against the media mogul Harvey Weinstein by Hollywood professionals and celebrities. The naming of prominent, powerful men as harassers and the celebrity sphere of activism have become features of #MeToo that warrant comparison with the naming of sexual harassment in the earlier era of feminism.While the practices it named were not new, the term “sexual harassment” was new, and it became a defining issue in second wave feminism that was conceptualised within the continuum of sexual violence. I outline this history, and how it transformed the private, individual experiences of many women into a shared public consciousness about sexual coercion in the workplace, and some of the debate that this generated within the women’s movement at the time. It offers scope to compare the threshold politics of naming names in the 21st century, and its celebrity vanguard which has led to some ambivalence about the lasting impact. For Kathy Davis (in Zarkov and Davis), for instance, it is atypical of the collective goals of second wave feminism.In comparing the two eras, Anita Hill’s claims against Clarence Thomas in the early 1990s is a bridging incident. It dates from closer to the time in which sexual harassment was named, and Hill’s testimony is now recognised as a prototype of the kinds of claims made against powerful men in the #MeToo era. Lauren Berlant’s account of “Diva Citizenship”, formulated in response to Hill’s testimony to the US Senate, now seems prescient of the unfolding spectacle of feminist subjectivities in the digital public sphere and speaks directly to the relation between individual and collective action in making lasting change. The possibility of change, however, descends from the intervention of the women’s movement in naming sexual harassment.The Name Is AllI found my boss in a room ... . He was alone ... . He greeted me ... touched my hair and ... said ... “Come, Ruth, sit down here.” He motioned to his knee. I felt my face flush. I backed away towards the door ... . Then he rose ... and ... put his hand into his pocket, took out a roll of bills, counted off three dollars, and brought it over to me at the door. “Tell your father,” he said, “to find you a new shop for tomorrow morning.” (Cohen 129)Sexual coercion in the workplace, such as referred to in this workplace novel published in 1918, was spoken about among women in subcultures and gossip long before it was named as sexual harassment. But it had no place in public discourse. Women’s knowledge of sexual harassment coalesced in an act of naming that is reputed to have occurred in a consciousness raising group in New York at the height of the second wave women’s movement. Lin Farley lays claim to it in her book, Sexual Shakedown, first published in 1978, in describing the coinage of the term from a workshop on women and work in 1974 at Cornell University. The group of participants was made up, she says, of near equal numbers of black and white women with “economic backgrounds ranging from very affluent to poor” (11). She describes how, “when we had finished, there was an unmistakable pattern to our employment ... . Each one of us had already quit or been fired from a job at least once because we had been made too uncomfortable by the behaviour of men” (11–12). She claims to have later devised the term “sexual harassment” in collaboration with others from this group (12).The naming of sexual harassment has been described as a kind of “discovery” (Leeds TUCRIC 1) and possibly “the only concept of sexual violence to be labelled by women themselves” (Hearn et al. 20). Not everyone agrees that Farley’s group first coined the term (see Herbert 1989) and there is some evidence that it was in use from the early 1970s. Catherine Mackinnon accredits its first use to the Working Women United Institute in New York in connection with the case of Carmita Wood in 1975 (25). Yet Farley’s account gained authority and is cited in several other contemporary radical feminist works (for instance, see Storrie and Dykstra 26; Wise and Stanley 48), and Sexual Shakedown can now be listed among the iconic feminist manifestoes of the second wave era.The key insight of Farley’s book was that sexual coercion in the workplace was more than aberrant behaviour by individual men but was systemic and organised. She suggests how the phrase sexual harassment “is the first verbal description of women’s feelings about this behaviour and it unstintingly conveys a negative perception of male aggression in the workplace” (32). Others followed in seeing it as organised expression of male power that functions “to keep women out of non-traditional occupations and to reinforce their secondary status in the workplace” (Pringle 93), a wisdom that is now widely accepted but seemed radical at the time.A theoretical literature on sexual harassment grew rapidly from the 1970s in which the definition of sexual harassment was a key element. In Sexual Shakedown, Farley defines it with specific connection to the workplace and a woman’s “function as worker” (33). Some definitions attempted to cover a range of practices that “might threaten a woman’s job security or create a stressful or intimidating working environment” ranging from touching to rape (Sedley and Benn 6). In the wider radical feminist discussion, sexual harassment was located within the “continuum of sexual violence”, a paradigm that highlighted the links between “every day abuses” and “less common experiences labelled as crimes” (Kelly 59). Accordingly, it was seen as a diminished category of rape, termed “little rape” (Bularzik 26), or a means whereby women are “reminded” of the “ever present threat of rape” (Rubinstein 165).The upsurge of research and writing served to document the prevalence and history of sexual harassment. Radical feminist accounts situated the origins in the long-standing patriarchal assumption that economic responsibility for women is ultimately held by men, and how “women forced to earn their own living in the past were believed to be defenceless and possibly immoral” (Rubinstein 166). Various accounts highlighted the intersecting effects of racism and sexism in the experience of black women, and women of colour, in a way that would be now termed intersectional. Jo Dixon discussed black women’s “least advantaged position in the economy coupled with the legacy of slavery” (164), while, in Australia, Linda Rubinstein describes the “sexual exploitation of aboriginal women employed as domestic servants on outback stations” which was “as common as the better documented abuse of slaves in the American South” (166).In The Sexual Harassment of Working Women, Catherine Mackinnon provided a pioneering legal argument that sexual harassment was a form of sex discrimination. She defined two types: the quid pro quo, when “sexual compliance is exchanged, or proposed to be exchanged, for an employment opportunity” (32); and sexual harassment as a “persistent condition of work” that “simply makes the work environment unbearable” (40). Thus the feminist histories of sexual harassment became detailed and strategic. The naming of sexual harassment was a moment of relinquishing women’s experience to the gaze of feminism and the bureaucratic gaze of the state, and, in the legal interventions that followed, it ceased to be exclusively a feminist issue.In Australia, a period of bureaucratisation and state intervention commenced in the late 1970s that corresponded with similar legislative responses abroad. The federal Sex Discrimination Act was amended in 1984 to include a definition of sexual harassment, and State and Territory jurisdictions also framed legislation pertaining to sexual harassment (see Law Council of Australia). The regimes of redress were linked with Equal Opportunity and Affirmative Action frameworks and were of a civil order. Under the law, there was potential for employers to be found vicariously liable for sexual harassment.In the women’s movement, legislative strategies were deemed reformist. Radical and socialist feminists perceived the de-gendering effects of these policies in the workplace that risked collusion with the state. Some argued that naming and defining sexual harassment denies that women constantly deal with a range of harassment anywhere, not only in the workplace (Wise and Stanley 10); while others argued that reformist approaches effectively legitimate other forms of sex discrimination not covered by legislation (Game and Pringle 290). However, in feminism and in the policy realm, the debate concerned sexual harassment in the general workplace. In contrast to #MeToo, it was not led by celebrity voices, nor galvanised by incidents in the sphere of entertainment, nor, by and large, among figures of public office, except for a couple of notable exceptions, including Anita Hill.The “Spectacle of Subjectivity” in the “Scene of Public Life”Through the early 1990s as an MA candidate at the University of Queensland, I studied media coverage of sexual harassment cases, clipping newspapers and noting electronic media reports on a daily basis. These mainly concerned incidents in government sector workplaces or small commercial enterprises. While the public prominence of the parties involved was not generally a factor in reportage, occasionally, prominent individuals were affected, such as the harassment of the athlete Michelle Baumgartner at the Commonwealth Games in 1990 which received extensive coverage but the offenders were never publicly named or disciplined. Two other incidents stand out: the Ormond College case at the University of Melbourne, about which much has been written; and Anita Hill’s claims against Clarence Thomas during his nomination to the US Supreme Court in 1991.The spectacle of Hill’s testimony to the US Senate is now an archetype of claims against powerful men, although, at the time, her credibility was attacked and her dignified presentation was criticised as “too composed. Too cool. Too censorious” (Legge 31). Hill was also seen to counterpose the struggles of race and gender, and Thomas himself famously described it as “a hi-tech lynching of an uppity black” (qtd in Stephens 1). By “hi-tech”, Thomas alluded to the occasion of the first-ever live national broadcast of the United States Senate hearings in which Hill’s claims were aired directly to the national public, and re-broadcast internationally in news coverage. Thus, it was not only the claims but the scale and medium of delivery to a global audience that set it apart from other sexual harassment stories.Recent events have since prompted revisiting of the inequity of Hill’s treatment at the Senate hearings. But well before this, in an epic and polemical study of American public culture, Berlant reflected at length on the heroism of Hill’s “witnessing” as paradigmatic of citizenship in post-Reaganite America’s “shrinking” public sphere. It forms part of her much wider thesis regarding the “intimate public sphere” and the form of citizenship “produced by personal acts and values” (5) in the absence of a context that “makes ordinary citizens feel they have a common public culture, or influence on a state” (3), and in which the fundamental inequality of minority cultures is assumed. For Berlant, Hill’s testimony becomes the model of “Diva Citizenship”; the “strange intimacy” in which the Citizen Diva, “the subordinated person”, believes in the capacity of the privileged ones “to learn and to change” and “trust[s] ... their innocence of ... their obliviousness” of the system that has supported her subjugation (222–223). While Berlant’s thesis pertains to profound social inequalities, there is no mistaking the comparison to the digital feminist in the #MeToo era in the call to identify with her suffering and courage.Of Hill’s testimony, Berlant describes how: “a member of a stigmatised population testifies reluctantly to a hostile public the muted and anxious history of her imperiled citizenship” (222). It is an “act of heroic pedagogy” (223) which occurs when “a person stages a dramatic coup in a public sphere in which she does not have privilege” (223). In such settings, “acts of language can feel like explosives” and put “the dominant story into suspended animation” (223). The Diva Citizen cannot “change the world” but “challenges her audience” to identify with her “suffering” and the “courage she has had to produce” in “calling on people to change the practices of citizenship into which they currently consent” (223). But Berlant cautions that the strongest of Divas cannot alone achieve change because “remaking the scene of public life into a spectacle of subjectivity” can lead to “a confusion of ... memorable rhetorical performance with sustained social change itself” (223). Instead, she argues that the Diva’s act is a call; the political obligation for the action of change lies with the collective, the greater body politic.The EchoIf Acts of Diva Citizenship abound in the #MeToo movement, relations between the individual and the collective are in question in a number of ways. This suggests a basis of comparison between past and present feminisms which have come full circle in the renewed recognition of sexual harassment in the continuum of sexual violence. Compared with the past, the voices of #MeToo are arguably empowered by a genuine, if gradual, change in the symbolic status of women, and a corresponding destabilization of the images of male power since the second wave era of feminism. The one who names an abuser on Twitter symbolises a power of individual courage, backed by a responding collective voice of supporters. Yet there are concerns about who can “speak out” without access to social media or with the constraint that “the sanctions would be too great” (Zarkov and Davis). Conversely, the “spreadability” — as Jenkins, Ford and Green term the travelling properties of digital media — and the apparent relative ease of online activism might belie the challenge and courage of those who make the claims and those who respond.The collective voice is also allied with other grassroots movements like SlutWalk (Jouet), the women’s marches in the US against the Trump presidency, and the several national campaigns — in India and Egypt, for instance (Zarkov and Davis) — that contest sexual violence and gender inequality. The “sheer numbers” of participation in #MeToo testify to “the collectivity of it all” and the diversity of the movement (Gill and Orgad). If the #MeToo hashtag gained traction with the “experiences of white heterosexual women in the US”, it “quickly expanded” due to “broad and inclusive appeal” with stories of queer women and men and people of colour well beyond the Global North. Even so, Tarana Burke, who founded the #MeToo hashtag in 2006 in her campaign of social justice for working class women and girls of colour, and endorsed its adoption by Hollywood, highlights the many “untold stories”.More strikingly, #MeToo participants name the names of the alleged harassers. The naming of names, famous names, is threshold-crossing and as much the public-startling power of the disclosures as the allegations and stimulates newsworthiness in conventional media. The resonance is amplified in the context of the American crisis over the Trump presidency in the sense that the powerful men called out become echoes or avatars of Trump’s monstrous manhood and the urgency of denouncing it. In the case of Harvey Weinstein, the name is all. A figure of immense power who symbolised an industry, naming Weinstein blew away the defensive old Hollywood myths of “casting couches” and promised, perhaps idealistically, the possibility for changing a culture and an industrial system.The Hollywood setting for activism is the most striking comparison with second wave feminism. A sense of contradiction emerges in this new “visibility” of sexual harassment in a culture that remains predominantly “voyeuristic” and “sexist” (Karkov and Davis), and not least in the realm of Hollywood where the sexualisation of women workers has long been a notorious open secret. A barrage of Hollywood feminism has accompanied #MeToo and #TimesUp in the campaign for diversity at the Oscars, and the stream of film remakes of formerly all-male narrative films that star all-female casts (Ghostbusters; Oceans 11; Dirty, Rotten Scoundrels). Cynically, this trend to make popular cinema a public sphere for gender equality in the film industry seems more glorifying than subversive of Hollywood masculinities. Uneasily, it does not overcome those lingering questions about why these conditions were uncontested openly for so long, and why it took so long for someone to go public, as Rose McGowan did, with claims about Harvey Weinstein.However, a reading of She Said, by Jodie Kantor and Megan Tuohey, the journalists who broke the Weinstein story in the New York Times — following their three year efforts to produce a legally water-tight report — makes clear that it was not for want of stories, but firm evidence and, more importantly, on-the-record testimony. If not for their (and others’) fastidious journalism and trust-building and the Citizen Divas prepared to disclose their experiences publicly, Weinstein might not be convicted today. Yet without the naming of the problem of sexual harassment in the women’s movement all those years ago, none of this may have come to pass. Lin Farley can now be found on YouTube retelling the story (see “New Mexico in Focus”).It places the debate about digital activism and Hollywood feminism in some perspective and, like the work of journalists, it is testament to the symbiosis of individual and collective effort in the action of change. The tweeting activism of #MeToo supplements the plenum of knowledge and action about sexual harassment across time: the workplace novels, the consciousness raising, the legislation and the poster campaigns. In different ways, in both eras, this literature demonstrates that names matter in calling for change on sexual harassment. But, if #MeToo is to become the last long take on sexual harassment, then, as Berlant advocates, the responsibility lies with the body politic who must act collectively for change in ways that will last well beyond the courage of the Citizen Divas who so bravely call it on.ReferencesBerlant, Lauren. The Queen of America Goes to Washington City: Essays on Sex and Citizenship. 1997. Durham: Duke UP, 2002.Bularzik, Mary. “Sexual Harassment at the Workplace: Historical Notes.” Radical America 12.4 (1978): 25-43.Cohen, Rose. Out of the Shadow. NY: Doran, 1918.Dixon, Jo. “Feminist Reforms of Sexual Coercion Laws.” Sexual Coercion: A Sourcebook on Its Nature, Causes and Prevention. Eds. Elizabeth Grauerholz and Mary A. Karlewski. Massachusetts: Lexington, 1991. 161-171.Farley, Lin. Sexual Shakedown: The Sexual Harassment of Women in the Working World. London: Melbourne House, 1978.Game, Ann, and Rosemary Pringle. “Beyond Gender at Work: Secretaries.” Australian Women: New Feminist Perspectives. Melbourne: Oxford UP, 1986. 273–91.Gill, Rosalind, and Shani Orgad. “The Shifting Terrain of Sex and Power: From the ‘Sexualisation of Culture’ to #MeToo.” Sexualities 21.8 (2018): 1313–1324. <https://doi-org.elibrary.jcu.edu.au/10.1177/1363460718794647>.Google Trends. “Me Too Rising: A Visualisation of the Movement from Google Trends.” 2017–2020. <https://metoorising.withgoogle.com>.Hearn, Jeff, Deborah Shepherd, Peter Sherrif, and Gibson Burrell. The Sexuality of Organization. London: Sage, 1989.Herbert, Carrie. Talking of Silence: The Sexual Harassment of Schoolgirls. London: Falmer, 1989.Jenkins, Henry, Sam Ford, and Joshua Green. Spreadable Media: Creating Value and Meaning in a Networked Culture. 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Margaret Bevege, Margaret James, and Carmel Shute. Sydney: Hale and Iremonger, 1982. 163–74.Sedley, Ann, and Melissa Benn. Sexual Harassment at Work. London: NCCL Rights for Women Unit, 1986.Stephens, Peter. “America’s Sick and Awful Farce.” Sydney Morning Herald 14 Oct. 1991: 1.Storrie, Kathleen, and Pearl Dykstra. “Bibliography on Sexual Harassment.” Resources for Feminist Research/Documentation 10.4 (1981–1982): 25–32.Wise, Sue, and Liz Stanley. Georgie Porgie: Sexual Harassment in Every Day Life. London: Pandora, 1987.Winch, Alison, Jo Littler, and Jessalyn Keller. “Why ‘Intergenerational Feminist Media Studies’?” Feminist Media Studies 16.4 (2016): 557–572. <https://doi.org/10.1080/14680777.2016.1193285>.Zarkov, Dubravka, and Kathy Davis. “Ambiguities and Dilemmas around #MeToo: #ForHowLong and #WhereTo?” European Journal of Women's Studies 25.1 (2018): 3–9. <https://doi.org/10.1177/1350506817749436>.

In the 2019 documentary Chasing Happiness, recording artist/musician Joe Jonas tells audiences that the band was “living the dream”. Similarly, in the 2012 documentary Artifact, lead singer Jared Leto remarks that at the height of Thirty Seconds to Mars’s success, they “were living the dream”. However, for both the Jonas Brothers and Thirty Seconds to Mars, their experiences of the music industry (much like other commercially successful recording artists) soon transformed into nightmares. Similar to other commercially successful recording artists, the Jonas Brothers and Thirty Seconds to Mars, came up against the constraints of the industry which inevitably led to a forfeiting of authenticity, a loss of creative control, increased exploitation, and unequal remuneration. This work will consider how working in the music industry is not always a dream come true and can instead be viewed as a proverbial nightmare. Living the DreamIn his book Dreams, Carl Gustav Jung discusses how that which is experienced in sleep, speaks of a person’s wishes: that which might be desired in reality but may not actually happen. In his earlier work, The Interpretation of Dreams, Freud argued that the dream is representative of fulfilling a repressed wish. However, the creative industries suggest that a dream need not be a repressed wish; it can become a reality. Jon Bon Jovi believes that his success in the music industry has surpassed his wildest dreams (Atkinson). Jennifer Lopez considers the fact that she held big dreams, had a focussed passion, and strong aspirations the reason why she pursued a creative career that took her out of the Bronx (Thomas). In a Twitter post from 23 April 2018, Bruno Mars declared that he “use [sic] to dream of this shit,” in referring to a picture of him performing for a sold out arena, while in 2019 Shawn Mendes informed his 24.4 million Twitter followers that his “life is a dream”. These are but a few examples of successful music industry artists who are seeing their ‘wishes’ come true and living the American Dream.Endemic to the American culture (and a characteristic of the identity of the country) is the “American Dream”. It centres on “a land in which life should be better and richer and fuller for every man, with opportunity for each according to his ability and achievement” (Adams, 404). Although initially used to describe having a nice house, money, stability and a reasonable standard of living, the American Dream has since evolved to what the scholar Florida believes is the new ‘aspiration of people’: doing work that is enjoyable and relies on human creativity. At its core, the original American Dream required striving to meet individual goals, and was promoted as possible for anyone regardless of their cultural, socio-economic and political background (Samuel), because it encourages the celebrating of the self and personal uniqueness (Gamson). Florida’s conceptualisation of the New American dream, however, tends to emphasise obtaining success, fame and fortune in what Neff, Wissinger, and Zukin (310) consider “hot”, “creative” industries where “the jobs are cool”.Whether old or new, the American Dream has perpetuated and reinforced celebrity culture, with many of the young generation reporting that fame and fortune were their priorities, as they sought to emulate the success of their famous role models (Florida). The rag to riches stories of iconic recording artists can inevitably glorify and make appealing the struggle that permits achieving one’s dream, with celebrities offering young, aspiring creative people a means of identification for helping them to aspire to meet their dreams (Florida; Samuel). For example, a young Demi Lovato spoke of how she idolised and looked up to singer Beyonce Knowles, describing Knowles as a role model because of the way she carries herself (Tishgart). Similarly, American Idol winner Kelly Clarkson cited Aretha Franklin as her musical inspiration and the reason that she sings from a place deep within (Nilles). It is unsurprising then, that popular media has tended to portray artists working in the creative industries and being paid to follow their passions as “a much-vaunted career dream” (Duffy and Wissinger, 4656). Movies such as A Star Is Born (2018), The Coal Miner’s Daughter (1980), Dreamgirls (2006), Begin Again (2013) and La La Land (2016) exalt the perception that creativity, talent, sacrifice and determination will mean dreams come true (Nicolaou). In concert with the American dream is the drive among creative people pursuing creative success to achieve their dreams because of the perceived autonomy they will gain, the chance of self-actualisation and social rewards, and the opportunity to fulfil intrinsic motivations (Amabile; Auger and Woodman; Cohen). For these workers, the love of creation and the happiness that accompanies new discoveries (Csikszentmihalyi) can offset the tight budgets and timelines, precarious labour (Blair, Grey, and Randle; Hesmondhalgh and Baker), uncertain demand (Caves; Shultz), sacrifice of personal relationships (Eikhof and Haunschild), the demand for high quality products (Gil & Spiller), and the tense relationships with administrators (Bilton) which are known to plague these industries. In some cases, young, up and coming creative people overlook these pitfalls, instead romanticising creative careers as ideal and worthwhile. They willingly take on roles and cede control to big corporations to “realize their passions [and] uncover their personal talent” (Bill, 50). Of course, as Ursell argues in discussing television employees, such idealisation can mean creatives, especially those who are young and unfamiliar with the constraints of the industry, end up immersed in and victims of the “vampiric” industry that exploits workers (816). They are socialised towards believing, in this case, that the record label is a necessary component to obtain fame and fortune and whether willing or unwilling, creative workers become complicit in their own exploitation (Cohen). Loss of Control and No CompensationThe music industry itself has been considered by some to typify the cultural industries (Chambers). Popular music has potency in that it is perceived as speaking a universal language (Burnett), engaging the emotions and thoughts of listeners, and assisting in their identity construction (Burnett; Gardikiotis and Baltzis). Given the place of music within society, it is not surprising that in 2018, the global music industry was worth US$19.1billion (IFPI). The music industry is necessarily underpinned by a commercial agenda. At present, six major recording companies exist and between them, they own between 70-80 per cent of the recordings produced globally (Konsor). They also act as gatekeepers, setting trends by defining what and who is worth following and listening to (Csikszentmihalyi; Jones, Anand, and Alvarez). In essence, to be successful in the music industry is to be affiliated with a record label. This is because the highly competitive nature and cluttered environment makes it harder to gain traction in the market without worthwhile representation (Moiso and Rockman). In the 2012 documentary about Thirty Seconds to Mars, Artifact, front man Jared Leto even questions whether it is possible to have “success without a label”. The recording company, he determines, “deal with the crappy jobs”. In a financially uncertain industry that makes money from subjective or experience-based goods (Caves), having a label affords an artist access to “economic capital for production and promotion” that enables “wider recognition” of creative work (Scott, 239). With the support of a record label, creative entrepreneurs are given the chance to be promoted and distributed in the creative marketplace (Scott; Shultz). To have a record label, then, is to be perceived as legitimate and credible (Shultz).However, the commercial music industry is just that, commercial. Accordingly, the desire to make money can see the intrinsic desires of musicians forfeited in favour of standardised products and a lack of remuneration for artists (Negus). To see this standardisation in practice, one need not look further than those contestants appearing on shows such as American Idol or The Voice. Nowhere is the standardisation of the music industry more evident than in Holmes’s 2004 article on Pop Idol. Pop Idol first aired in Britain from 2001-2003 and paved the way for a slew of similar shows around the world such as Australia’s Popstars Live in 2004 and the global Idol phenomena. According to Holmes, audiences are divested of the illusion of talent and stardom when they witness the obvious manufacturing of musical talent. The contestants receive training, are dressed according to a prescribed image, and the show emphasises those melodramatic moments that are commercially enticing to audiences. Her sentiments suggest these shows emphasise the artifice of the music industry by undermining artistic authenticity in favour of generating celebrities. The standardisation is typified in the post Idol careers of Kelly Clarkson and Adam Lambert. Kelly Clarkson parted with the recording company RCA when her manager and producer Clive Davis told her that her album My December (2007) was “not commercial enough” and that Clarkson, who had written most of the songs, was a “shitty writer… who should just shut up and sing” (Nied). Adam Lambert left RCA because they wanted him to make a full length 80s album comprised of covers. Lambert commented that, “while there are lots of great songs from that decade, my heart is simply not in doing a covers album” (Lee). In these instances, winning the show and signing contracts led to both Clarkson and Lambert forfeiting a degree of creative control over their work in favour of formulaic songs that ultimately left both artists unsatisfied. The standardisation and lack of remuneration is notable when signing recording artists to 360° contracts. These 360° contracts have become commonplace in the music industry (Gulchardaz, Bach, and Penin) and see both the material and immaterial labour (such as personal identities) of recording artists become controlled by record labels (Stahl and Meier). These labels determine the aesthetics of the musicians as well as where and how frequently they tour. Furthermore, the labels become owners of any intellectual property generated by an artist during the tenure of the contract (Sanders; Stahl and Meier). For example, in their documentary Show Em What You’re Made Of (2015), the Backstreet Boys lament their affiliation with manager Lou Pearlman. Not only did Pearlman manufacture the group in a way that prevented creative exploration by the members (Sanders), but he withheld profits to the point that the Backstreet Boys had to sue Pearlman in order to gain access to money they deserved. In 2002 the members of the Backstreet Boys had stated that “it wasn’t our destinies that we had to worry about in the past, it was our souls” (Sanders, 541). They were not writing their own music, which came across in the documentary Show Em What You’re Made Of when singer Howie Dorough demanded that if they were to collaborate as a group again in 2013, that everything was to be produced, managed and created by the five group members. Such a demand speaks to creative individuals being tied to their work both personally and emotionally (Bain). The angst encountered by music artists also signals the identity dissonance and conflict felt when they are betraying their true or authentic creative selves (Ashforth and Mael; Ashforth and Humphrey). Performing and abiding by the rules and regulations of others led to frustration because the members felt they were “being passed off as something we aren’t” (Sanders 539). The Backstreet Boys were not the only musicians who were intensely controlled and not adequately compensated by Pearlman. In the documentary The Boy Band Con: The Lou Pearlman Story 2019, Lance Bass of N*Sync and recording artist Aaron Carter admitted that the experience of working with Pearlman became a nightmare when they too, were receiving cheques that were so small that Bass describes them as making his heart sink. For these groups, the dream of making music was undone by contracts that stifled creativity and paid a pittance.In a similar vein, Thirty Seconds to Mars sought to cut ties with their record label when they felt that they were not being adequately compensated for their work. In retaliation EMI issued Mars with a US$30 million lawsuit for breach of contract. The tense renegotiations that followed took a toll on the creative drive of the group. At one point in the documentary Artifact (2012), Leto claims “I can’t sing it right now… You couldn’t pay me all the money in the world to sing this song the way it needs to be sung right now. I’m not ready”. The contract subordination (Phillips; Stahl and Meier) that had led to the need to renegotiate financial terms came at not only a financial cost to the band, but also a physical and emotional one. The negativity impacted the development of the songs for the new album. To make music requires evoking necessary and appropriate emotions in the recording studio (Wood, Duffy, and Smith), so Leto being unable to deliver the song proved problematic. Essentially, the stress of the lawsuit and negotiations damaged the motivation of the band (Amabile; Elsbach and Hargadon; Hallowell) and interfered with their creative approach, which could have produced standardised and poor quality work (Farr and Ford). The dream of making music was almost lost because of the EMI lawsuit. Young creatives often lack bargaining power when entering into contracts with corporations, which can prove disadvantaging when it comes to retaining control over their lives (Phillips; Stahl and Meier). Singer Demi Lovato’s big break came in the 2008 Disney film Camp Rock. As her then manager Phil McIntyre states in the documentary Simply Complicated (2017), Camp Rock was “perceived as the vehicle to becoming a superstar … overnight she became a household name”. However, as “authentic and believable” as Lovato’s edginess appeared, the speed with which her success came took a toll on Lovato. The pressure she experienced having to tour, write songs that were approved by others, star in Disney channel shows and movies, and look a certain way, became too much and to compensate, Lovato engaged in regular drug use to feel free. Accordingly, she developed a hybrid identity to ensure that the squeaky clean image required by the moral clauses of her contract, was not tarnished by her out-of-control lifestyle. The nightmare came from becoming famous at a young age and not being able to handle the expectations that accompanied it, coupled with a stringent contract that exploited her creative talent. Lovato’s is not a unique story. Research has found that musicians are more inclined than those in other workforces to use psychotherapy and psychotropic drugs (Vaag, Bjørngaard, and Bjerkeset) and that fame and money can provide musicians more opportunities to take risks, including drug-use that leads to mortality (Bellis, Hughes, Sharples, Hennell, and Hardcastle). For Lovato, living the dream at a young age ultimately became overwhelming with drugs her only means of escape. AuthenticityThe challenges then for music artists is that the dream of pursuing music can come at the cost of a musician’s authentic self. According to Hughes, “to be authentic is to be in some sense real and true to something ... It is not simply an imitation, but it is sincere, real, true, and original expression of its creator, and is believable or credible representations or example of what it appears to be” (190). For Nick Jonas of the Jonas Brothers, being in the spotlight and abiding by the demands of Disney was “non-stop” and prevented his personal and musical growth (Chasing Happiness). As Kevin Jonas put it, Nick “wanted the Jonas Brothers to be no more”. The extensive promotion that accompanies success and fame, which is designed to drive celebrity culture and financial motivations (Currid-Halkett and Scott; King), can lead to cynical performances and dissatisfaction (Hughes) if the identity work of the creative creates a disjoin between their perceived self and aspirational self (Beech, Gilmore, Cochrane, and Greig). Promoting the band (and having to film a television show and movies he was not invested in all because of contractual obligations) impacted on Nick’s authentic self to the point that the Jonas Brothers made him feel deeply upset and anxious. For Nick, being stifled creatively led to feeling inauthentic, thereby resulting in the demise of the band as his only recourse.In her documentary Gaga: Five Foot Two (2017), Lady Gaga discusses the extent she had to go to maintain a sense of authenticity in response to producer control. As she puts it, “when producers wanted me to be sexy, I always put some absurd spin on it, that made me feel like I was still in control”. Her words reaffirm the perception amongst scholars (Currid-Halkett and Scott; King; Meyers) that in playing the information game, industry leaders will construct an artist’s persona in ways that are most beneficial for, in this case, the record label. That will mean, for example, establishing a coherent life story for musicians that endears them to audiences and engaging recording artists in co-branding opportunities to raise their profile and to legitimise them in the marketplace. Such behaviour can potentially influence the preferences and purchases of audiences and fans, can create favourability, originality and clarity around artists (Loroz and Braig), and can establish competitive advantage that leads to producers being able to charge higher prices for the artists’ work (Hernando and Campo). But what impact does that have on the musician? Lady Gaga could not continue living someone else’s dream. She found herself needing to make changes in order to avoid quitting music altogether. As Gaga told a class of university students at the Emotion Revolution Summit hosted by Yale University:I don’t like being used to make people money. It feels sad when I am overworked and that I have just become a money-making machine and that my passion and creativity take a backseat. That makes me unhappy.According to Eikof and Haunschild, economic necessity can threaten creative motivation. Gaga’s reaction to the commercial demands of the music industry signal an identity conflict because her desire to create, clashed with the need to be commercial, with the outcome imposing “inconsistent demands upon” her (Ashforth and Mael, 29). Therefore, to reduce what could be considered feelings of dissonance and inconsistency (Ashforth and Mael; Ashforth and Humphrey) Gaga started saying “no” to prevent further loss of her identity and sense of authentic self. Taking back control could be seen as a means of reorienting her dream and overcoming what had become dissatisfaction with the commercial processes of the music industry. ConclusionsFor many creatives working in the creative industries – and specifically the music industry – is constructed as a dream come true; the working conditions and expectations experienced by recording artists are far from liberating and instead can become nightmares to which they want to escape. The case studies above, although likely ‘constructed’ retellings of the unfortunate circumstances encountered working in the music industry, nevertheless offer an inside account that contradicts the prevailing ideology that pursuing creative passions leads to a dream career (Florida; Samuel). If anything, the case studies explored above involving 30 Seconds to Mars, the Jonas Brothers, Lady Gaga, Kelly Clarkson, Adam Lambert and the Backstreet Boys, acknowledge what many scholars writing in the creative industries have already identified; that exploitation, subordination, identity conflict and loss of control are the unspoken or lesser known consequences of pursuing the creative dream. That said, the conundrum for creatives is that for success in the industry big “creative” businesses, such as recording labels, are still considered necessary in order to break into the market and to have prolonged success. This is simply because their resources far exceed those at the disposal of independent and up-and-coming creative entrepreneurs. Therefore, it can be argued that this friction of need between creative industry business versus artists will be on-going leading to more of these ‘dream to nightmare’ stories. The struggle will continue manifesting in the relationship between business and artist for long as the recording artists fight for greater equality, independence of creativity and respect for their work, image and identities. 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