Artykuły w czasopismach na temat „Religious communities – Juvenile fiction”

AbstractAndrew Eshleman has argued that atheists can believe in God by being fully engaged members of religious communities and using religious discourse in a non-realist way. He calls this position ‘fictionalism’ because the atheist takes up religion as a useful fiction. In this paper I critique fictionalism along two lines: that it is problematic to successfully be a fictionalist and that fictionalism is unjustified. Reflection on fictionalism will point to some wider problems with religious anti-realism.

The paper analyses the use of community conferencing for young people in various jurisdictions in Australia in the light of its impact in Indigenous communities. It argues that the manner in which these programs have been introduced has ignored Aboriginal rights to self-determination and has grossly simplified Indigenous mechanisms for resolving conflicts. In most jurisdictions, community conferencing has reinforced the role of state police and done little to ensure greater control over police discretionary decision-making. The changes have also been introduced in the context of more punitive law and order policies, including mandatory minimum imprisonment terms and repeat offender legislation for juveniles. The end result is likely to be greater bifurcation of the juvenile justice system along racialised boundaries, with Indigenous youth receiving more punitive outcomes.

Rohinton Mistry is one of the most celebrated new wave fiction writers of Indian writing in English. Mistry is a well-known name for his heritage fiction and Parsi consciousness. As being a Parsi, Mistry seems to be more concerned with his community and its diminishing numbers like their symbol bird vultures. Parsi is one of the most educated communities all around the world and famous for their sense of charities yet with each passing year this one of the oldest religious communities is facing the threat of extinction; and this threat put each and every Parsi writers on their toes to preserve their culture through their writings, and the fiction of Rohinton Mistry is also no exception to this thought. Mistry tried his level best to put Parsi life as it is with their core consciousness and dilemmas on paper.

Abstract: The article examines the contribution of contemporary devout Catholic fiction to postsecular conversations around the mediation of religious experience by secular history with specific attention to a novel not yet discussed within literary studies: Dena Hunt's Treason , a work of historical fiction about Catholic suppression in Elizabethan England. The article argues that (1) Treason analyzes early formations of secular institutions and narratives within Elizabethan England as co-opting Christian expressions of agapeic love, and (2) responds to that co-optation by engaging in a historical method of constructing narratives rooted in instances of self-denying affection and devotion found within religious communities.

In the 19th century, Turcophone communities of the Ottoman Empire displayed a keen interest in European fiction. This study questions whether translating European works was simply linguistic substitution or rather had intrinsic dimensions such as cultural appropriation. It also investigates the reciprocity of literary production, and offers some observations on how translation influences and inspires “the making of literature”. The methods used are mainly based on statistical interpretation of bibliographic data and comparative sociological analysis. Turkish works printed in Arabic, Armenian and Greek alphabets are the objects of investigation. The findings demonstrate that translation in the Ottoman mind is actually an active literary appropriation primarily due to differences in the criterion of “modern fiction” from European standards where the differences are exaggerated by the Ottoman notion of translation, lending the translator liberating space and opportunity to interfere with the original text. Moreover, the intermingling between the oral and print cultures that obscures the definition of literary genres adds another level of complexity. It is also revealed that the millets of the Empire affected each other’s choice and taste resulting in a web of interactions that exhibit the literary market and literary “canon” of the period.

This essay builds on the author’s previous work on the Left Behind novels for kids, arguing that while current socio-political conditions have certainly contributed to the success of the series, an earlier phenomenon informs its literary structure: the many novels and stories produced by the American Sunday School Union (ASSU). The numerous literary, cultural, religious, and historical details that connect ASSU fiction and the Left Behind: The Kids series demonstrate significant continuities in the projects of US evangelical Christianity over more than a century. The closing section discusses how the differences between the current crop of evangelical narratives and the historical ones are just as instructive as their similarities, for they demonstrate changing conceptions of children and childhood in the United States, and the place and purpose of religious-themed narratives for young readers on the eve of the new millennium and in the opening decade of the twenty-first century.

Ironizing the violence to convey the political message about minority, Saadat Hasan Monto uses humanistic radical irony as a vehicle for political commentary by demystifying the politics of the representation of violence in official texts of both modern India and Pakistan. Partition affected every sector of human affairs badly. So, partition stories depict the irreplaceable loss displacement, dispossession, abduction, rape, painful death and other forms of violence that common people suffered from all three communities: Hindu, Sikh and Muslim. Manto counts the prime position who dealt with reality of the existing violence by showing it at various levels as familial, social, economic, political, religious others. In that course Manto also subverts the limited and biased notion of partition, which took partition of India as only the partition of territory and people. In the light of Hutcheon’s notion of ‘radical use of irony’, I argue that Manto’s use of irony in “Cold Meat” and “Open it” shows the utter cruelty of the people in power and authority at the time of partition violence and humanity shown by the marginalized section of society. His writing encapsulates his empathy for the victims and his belief in the essential goodness of humanity. The humanity that shines through in his writings about the down-trodden people living in the fringes of society, and the victims of partition violence of 1947 are an integral part of his stories.

Attitudes change. They broaden as well as contract. They reflect the permeation of dissenting ideas in apparently settled communities and the assimilation of conventionally accepted ideas by dissenters. The process is transformative. Literature is a prime medium for the transmission of ideas. It shapes attitudes. What, then, of the role of popular literature, especially fiction, in shaping the attitudes, especially the religious attitudes, of a rapidly growing, clearly intelligent and significandy female reading public? This paper considers an Anglican writer, formed in part by Dissent, whose work particularly appealed to Nonconformists exercising their citizenship in a complex but now promisingly open society. This Broad Churchwoman enlarged the minds of her readers in liberal directions without diminishing their Dissenting formation. She is now quite forgotten, but her apparently modest achievement was in fact considerable.

Background. The author analyzes the texts of the Dune cycle in contexts of modern historiography, including its universal methods that allow analyzing “oriental” images in literature through the prism of constructing and deconstructing narratives that form the image of Jihad as a form of political, social and religious struggle of oppressed communities and minorities. Purpose. The purpose of the article is an “orientalist” reinterpretation of the images of Jihad in the novels belonging to the Dune cycle including the prequel text presented by Dune. Butlerian Jihad and Dune. Paul. Materials and methods. The author uses the methodological tools of intellectual history and studies of nationalism, including the concept of the invention of traditions, which allows to analyze the images of Jihad in science fiction as one of the invented traditions of mass US science fiction literature using the texts of the Dune cycle. Orientalism as a method is used to analyze Muslim motifs in the prose of F. Herbert, B. Herbert and K. Anderson, which, as the author of the article presumes, were inspired by political, ideological and religious stimuli. The author states that the orientalist approach can be an effective interpretative model for an interdisciplinary analysis of American science fiction as a cultural landscape for the development of Jihad images in the Western intellectual tradition of the consumer society. Results. The ideological and political foundations for the development of images of Jihad as a social concept of American science fiction are studied in the article. The article analyzes the ideological origins, as well as the political prototypes and archetypes of the Muslim radicals of the Dune cycle. The author analyzes the ideological discourse of radical Islamism, presented in American mass culture through the prism of religious war images as attempts to implement the doctrine and social liberation. The article analyzes the attempts of American writers to form a positive and attractive image of a radical political protest under religious Muslim slogans. Therefore, it is shown that American science fiction prose actualized the mobilization potential of Islamism, imagining and inventing it as a form of legitimate social and economic protest of the oppressed masses against discrimination. The author presumes that some American authors revised the images of Jihad, offering its interpretation as a radical social and class protest based on religious legitimation.

American science fiction stories, such as U.S. historical narratives, often give central place to white, Western male subjects as noble explorers, benevolent colonizers, and border-guarding patriots. This constructed subjectivity renders colonized or cultural others as potentially threatening aliens, and it works alongside the parallel construction of white womanhood as a signifier for the territory to be possessed and protected by American empire—or as a sign of empire itself. Popular cultural narratives, whether in the world of U.S. imperialism or the speculative worlds of science fiction, may serve a religious function by helping to shape world-making: the envisioning and enacting of imagined communities. This paper argues that the world-making of American science fiction can participate in the construction and maintenance of American empire; yet, such speculative world-making may also subvert and critique imperialist ideologies. Analyzing the recent films Arrival (2016) and Annihilation (2018) through the lenses of postcolonial and feminist critique and theories of religion and popular culture, I argue that these films function as parables about human migration, diversity, and hybrid identities with ambiguous implications. Contact with the alien other can be read as bringing threat, loss, and tragedy or promise, birth, and possibility.

In the scientific community, the topic of the risk of violent radicalisation within the juvenile penal circuit is infrequently explored compared to the attention devoted to the adult prison population or to other areas of social and educational intervention. This article presents some results of a study conducted, within the framework of a European project led by the Italian Ministry of Justice, at some institutions of the juvenile penal circuit in Italy, with the involvement of staff working at the Offices of Social Services for Minors (USSM), the Juvenile Penal Institutes (IPM), and the reception communities of two Italian regions (North and South). The article aims to explore the viewpoint of the professionals working in these facilities, analysing their perceptions and experiences regarding the radicalisation of young people in the penal circuit. This concept is understood both in a broader sense, evoking the characteristics of adolescence, as experienced by the population in their charge, and also in the more specific sense of religious radicalisation and its possible violent outcomes. The article shows how, when referring to the task of detecting possible signs of (violent) radicalisation in the behaviour of young people, penal-circuit professionals highlight the difficulties and risks they encounter in the attempt to reconcile educational and supervisory tasks. The personal and social characteristics of the population under their care and the more specific characteristics of the adolescent phase, in fact, seem to constitute factors that make the process of the detection of radicalisation more complex, with the risk of increasing the labelling and stigmatisation of these young offenders, thus, paradoxically, favouring outcomes that would be desirable to prevent.

In New South Wales, Australia, statistics show that Pacific young people are over-represented in the juvenile justice system. They enter later than other young offenders, frequently for violent offending. Drawing on research with Pacific young people on correctional orders, their families and communities, we outline the reasons for their over-representation using a risk and protective paradigm. Family connections, religious faith and cultural identity are reportedly strong for Pacific young people, but they struggle to negotiate differences between Pacific and Australian cultures. Misunderstanding of these issues and Pacific young people’s typical offending trajectory results in a lack of interventions to reduce this offending behaviour. This article makes a contribution to knowledge of a rarely researched group of young people in the juvenile justice system. It highlights the need for increased awareness of issues that Pacific young offenders face.

This study aims to investigate the implementation of pesantren-based character education in addressing juvenile delinquency, through a case study at Pondok Pesantren Fadllillah Tambak Sumur Sidoarjo. Employing qualitative methods and a case study design, the research delves into understanding how character education in pesantren contributes to combating juvenile delinquency. Data were collected through document analysis, observation, and in-depth interviews with pesantren administrators, teachers, and students. The results indicate that character education at Pondok Pesantren Fadllillah makes a positive contribution through fostering religious values, social projects, and leadership training. The character education approach, centered on Islamic teachings and noble ethics, along with intensive guidance from kyai (spiritual leaders) and pesantren administrators, has a positive impact on adolescent behavior. This research provides crucial insights for educational institutions and communities, supporting an understanding of the potential of pesantren-based character education in addressing juvenile delinquency and cultivating a high-quality younger generation. It is hoped that the findings contribute to the development of more effective character education methods in various educational institutions.

The downfall of Realist Socialism in the post-communist environment of the Albanian speaking countries opened the way for the development of a variety of literary genres as well as for the growth of popular fiction. This paper focuses on the best-seller by Ben Blushi Living in an island (2008) which covers four centuries of Ottoman occupa-tion of Albania. The novel has provoked profuse debates within the Albanian speech-communities in the Region and was accused by the Muslim community for endangering the religious harmony and tolerance of Albanians. This paper argues that the blame derives from the interchange between the author and the narrator and from the inabil-ity to differentiate between different points of view within the narrative. Although literary critics have generally developed negative connotations about popular fiction as a kind of literature associated with industry, entertainment and escapism, the arti-cle claims that the popular novel by Blushi raises an important public debate about vital historical concerns such as whether the acceptance of Islam by Albanians was wilful or imposed. Rather than giving simple answers to these questions, Blushi’s novel provokes alternative ways of thinking about whether Albanians agreed to banish Christianism and accept Islam due to violent intrusion or due to free will, and if the conversion into another religion was a new way of survival and a shelter of self-protection.

The activities of the creative unions of Pridnestrovie are viewed through the prism of historical and political events: from the Soviet era to the present day. It is noted that professional associations that emerged in the 1990s, in addition to influencing the cultural policy of the state, perform ideological functions, protect the interests of their members, and are expert communities. Of more than a dozen creative unions (out of 600 public associations registered in Pridnestrovie), the most active at present are the Union of Designers, the Union of Writers, the Union of Artists. The author analyzes: the semantic content of the activity and the degree of influence on the cultural policy of Pridnestrovie; legislative framework (to what extent it allows creative unions to function as expert communities); the activities of state and public structures empowered to form trends in the cultural development of the republic. The main conclusions made by the author should be considered that the productivity of creative unions depends on the leadership qualities of the leaders of professional associations themselves, their vision of development trends and influence on the cultural field of the republic, the authority of recognized luminaries in the field of culture and art, their opinion on key positions. For a more active work of creative unions, it is proposed to intensify the dialogue with state authorities, and revise the previously “frozen” laws on preferential taxation, activate the grant system of financing, and through social and creative orders, the acquisition of works of fiction and art, by providing the appropriate infrastructure, to support these public professional associations.

Abstract This article traces one narrative of anti-colonial violence on the Sumatra plantation through various Sinophone iterations and establishes the historical events on which it was based. The European anxiety about the defiance of the condemned Chinese men shows how this particular event turned into oral legend, religious observance, touring socialist theatre, leftist fiction, and a PRC Third World internationalist travelogue. In one moment of bravura, Chinese plantation workers rejected their status as colonial subjects. That gesture made them an emblem of the proletarian bona fides of the ethnic Chinese in Indonesia, and of the traumatic origins of Medan and other North Sumatra Chinese communities in plantation labour. By connecting the foreboding in the colonial archive with the eulogy in the Sinophone literary record, we can triangulate a fuller vision of resistance on the Deli plantations than is available from either one.

The subject of the research is the relationship between the phenomena of religion and migrations. The problem of their interaction has been inherent in human society since the ancient times; this problem is relevant one in nova days too. The consequences and prospects of development of this complex phenomenon in contemporary society are not sufficiently examined in science yet, especially in Sociology. In the paper, the role of religion in migration processes is studied based on the analysis of various sources, synthesis, induction, analogy, and abstraction. In course of research were analyzed numerous religious treatises, fiction works and classical sociological works, as well as works by foreign and Russian contemporary academic authors. The paper notes that the migration discourse has now shifted from the geographic and demographic to the socio-political domain. Religion has begun to play an important role at all stages of migration, both from the perspective of neoliberal and humanistic approaches. The paper aims to identify the role of the religious factor in the migration process and the role and logic of migration not only in inter-faith but also in intra-faith relations. It is shown that migration either serves as a catalyst for religious feelings and behavior or it strengthens the existing religious identity of migrants and enhances the quality of their religious feelings. The study highlights the need to improve the legislative framework of religious freedom, but also raises the question of how far religious communities can go in the process of advancing religious practice. In this regard, migrations often become a challenge for a secular state. Therefore, it is concluded that only an integrated approach would contribute to solving this problem.

The article analyzes the changes in the spiritual, moral and religious climate in Russian society in XIX - early XX century. The peculiarities of national modernization, that predetermined the gradual destruction of the traditional patriarchal way of life of the masses, are revealed; they led to the transformation of the world towards its secularization. The underlying problems of "religious ignorance" of a large part of the Orthodox population of the central part of Russia are determined, which are expressed in a large number of superstitions, prejudices and heresies incompatible with the official teaching. The crisis of the Russian Orthodox Church (ROC) is characterized, which is expressed in the rapid numerical growth of the various sects, strengthening of the Old Believer communities, the development of free God-seeking and spreading atheism. The pedagogical foundations of Russian Institute of elders are considered in the article, which determine certain anthropological strategy for Russia and are based not only on legal laws, but also on spiritual and moral primordial. Great importance is paid to the justification of the role of the institutions of elders in matters of correction of juvenile offenders.

As a product of hobby groups, religious and philosophical samizdat was the practice of an entire cycle of intellectual content production: from the search for sources to their adaptation and pragmatization. At the same time, pragmatization determined the future projects and the organization of circles as communities. A wary attitude towards the transformations of the world demanded among supporters of religious philosophy reflection on the life-building and social potential of the community. This cautious attitude determined the composition of the canon, the features of which are determined by the specifics of intellectual production in these circles. Thus, Berdyaev was accepted into the canon as the inventor of the aphoristic mode of thought production. Sergei Bulgakov was an extra-Soviet non-conformist thinker whose sophiology corresponds to social constructivism in contemporary scholarship and, at the same time, allows the meta criticism of church habitus. The canon was built as actual: the works of religious philosophers of the twentieth century were perceived as part of current philosophy, not because of a lack of newer sources, but because of the understanding of their work as avant-garde and their social program as not yet put into circulation, and therefore belonging to the future projects. The expansion of the canon could occur only if the philosophical fiction, from Dostoevsky to Solzhenitsyn, was accepted into the canon, which made it possible to concretize the intellectual phenomena of the 19th century. Thus, inclusion in the canon meant recognition, not so much of the author's philosophical merits as to his or her ability for a polemical gesture but also for grounding the circles' autonomy. The disintegration of this circle organization of the “second culture” coincided with the ontologization of the problematics of Russian idealistic philosophy, which (ontologization) became normative in Russian higher education.

AbstractThis study examines the content and context of production of Rembrandt's etching Christ Preaching. After an exposition of the etching's key features, consideration is given to the place of the etching in Rembrandt's life and work. Particular attention is paid to Rembrandt's own religious outlook, to the level of his awareness as to the artistic and theological traditions within which he stood, and to the impact upon his work of the dynamics of commissioning and selling the results of his efforts. The study suggests a possible religious dimension to his choice of an etching for this particular image. The significance of the exploration of this "biblical" etching by Rembrandt for the contemporary task of the interpretation of the Gospels is then drawn out in a series of nine points: the relationship between single texts and the "big picture" of Jesus which an interpreter carries; the impact of a variety of interpretative frameworks within which interpreters work; acknowledgement of the inevitability of working with a "canon within the canon"; attention to the specific communities within which one interprets; recognition of a present interest at work; respect for the rhetorical strategies which are operative in the interpretation (as well as the text being interpreted); the need to examine the reasons for the choice of medium through which an interpretation of a text is conveyed; acknowledgement that interpretations are sometimes affected by factors beyond the control of those who fashion them; and consideration of the place of fiction in biblical interpretation.

Religion is not only a teaching that is believed, but also practiced by its followers. Religionaims to regulate relations to God, humans, and other creatures to be able to work togetherand serve as a guide for world and afterlife. The aim of this noble religion becomestarnished when many religious communities had conflict in the name of religion. Althoughconflict can not be separated from human life, it would be strange if the conflict is of areligious background that should bring peace and eliminate chaos. Religious followes whohave a long history of conflict are between Muslims and Christians. The aim of this researchis wants to see how the social relations between Muslims and Christians, as well as thepotential for conflict between the two adherents of the religion. This research is located inthe city of Mataram, where religious conflicts have occurred in this city. The conflictbetween Muslims and Christians in Matatam occurred on January 17, 2000, which wasfinally called the Satu Tujuh Satu conflict (171). This research uses qualitative methods, andthe instruments are observation, interviews, and documentation. The results of this study arethe social relations between Islam and Christianity in Mataram quite well established. Thisis characterized by each religion interacting well in the social sphere such as at work,markets, schools and on campus. The potential for conflict in Mataram is economicinequality, low levels of community literacy, Christianization issues and other socialproblems such as garbage, and juvenile delinquency.

Populism frequently uses the visibility of religious majorities and minorities as polemically charged references in the political controversy about cultural identity. Visible signs are evoked as positive identity markers and representations of the fiction of a homogenous society. The visibility of religions coming from an immigration background is more likely to be attacked as an invasion of foreigners who do not fit in the frame of an imagined authentic model of cultural unity. As the debates on the construction of mosques and minarets in European cities show, Islam becomes a synonym of differences perceived as problematic. Depending on the political agenda, invisible and quiet religions are preferred to the visible and politically more demanding ones. However, the opinions for or against a high degree of visibility are not necessarily shared within the religious communities. Their members can ask for discrete individual practices or for a strong collective presence in the public sphere. Populist discourses try to argue against manifestations of ostentatious visibility and use this fight as a platform for identity-driven propaganda that is interested in the exclusion of those who are considered as the threat to the well-being of the “people”. The visibility of religion thesis has to be dealt with carefully in the context of right-wing populism because of the toxic effects of all kinds of identity politics in the political as well as in the religious sphere. The conventional implications of the public–private split must be rearticulated in a context in which secularism is challenged by the return of visible religion and by the emergence of political ideologies playing with the fire of strong and exclusivist identity claims that are in conflict with ideals of tolerance, pluralism, and diversity management.

<p>This study imvestigates the psycho-Sufistic therapy applied by the "Tasawuf Underground" movement to the Punk community in Jakarta. The phenomenon of the Punk community in big cities is often neglected by Muslim preachers. The spiritual condition of the Punk community are hardly taken into an account nowadays. It is because of stereotypical and pejorative stigmas that make them far from religious values. Therefore, the Tasawuf Underground movement attempts to approach and invite them to migrate spiritually (hijra) in gentle and interactive ways. This study aims to reveal the Sufistic approach model practiced by Tasawuf Underground in the process of migrating the punk community and homeless juvenile in the capital city of Jakarta to comprehend their religion and life. The research employs a qualitative description by conducting observation and interviews. As the data obtained, they are analyzed by using the perspective of Suluk method in Sufism and the humanistic-physcology theory by Abraham Maslow. The result of study indicates that the Tasawuf Underground movement implements an excellent psycho-Sufistic method to be used as a role model to deal with punk communities and similar marginalization elsewhere.</p>

The big conclusion of this paper is that the character of the eighth-grade students of Dirghantara Middle School is Religious Character in the form of faith in piety and ukhkuwah instilling and applying students' religious values ​​in everyday life, both divine and human religiosity, getting used to praying 5 times a day, instilling good morals. being kind, inviting, and setting a good example, instilling an attitude of shame and fear of doing evil, and not wanting to commit acts of deviant social behavior, all of these are appropriate actions taken by the school. The purpose of this study was to describe the religious character of adolescents in junior high school students, students' perceptions of the forms and causes of social pathology, and efforts to strengthen religious character through habituation of recitations of Asmaul Huna and shalawat as prevention of adolescent social pathology in junior high school students at Dirghantara Legok Junior High School, Tangerang Regency. The research approach is descriptive qualitative and religious sociology, namely observing adolescent religious problems, especially junior high school students in strengthening religious character as prevention of adolescent social pathology in junior high school students and field research, namely research procedures that produce descriptive data in the form of written or spoken words from people and observable behavior. Data collection techniques were obtained by observation, interviews, and documentation. The respondents who were used as samples were 24 people. The results of the study show: (1) The religious characteristics of the eighth-grade students of Dirghantara Junior High School are: Behavior that reflects the character of faith and piety (imtaq) and ukhuwah Islamiah; (2) Students' perceptions of forms of adolescent social pathology in Dirghantara Junior High School students tend to be normal or normal delinquency, but besides that, some students have juvenile deviant behavior in students who require special handling of violent behavior (bullying) and fights between students (brawls). ); (3) Students' perceptions of the factors that cause social pathology are driven by internal factors (endogenous factors) this is because of the behavior that is already inherent in the perpetrator himself, the influence of physical conditions and personality that exist in him and external factors (exogenous factors), namely students can do pathology/social among teenagers in junior high school students can occur from outside themselves, such as from family environmental factors, schools, communities, playgroups, and mass media; (4) Strengthening religious character as prevention of adolescent social pathology in junior high school students is carried out through habituation of recitations of Asmaul Husna and shalawat, apart from the habit of instilling and applying students' religious values ​​in daily life, both religious which are divine and insanity.

The paper aims to form a comprehensive and in-depth study of the theme of multiculturalism as portrayed within the selected novels of Orhan Pamuk and Amitav Ghosh. The reputed Indian novelist Amitav Ghosh has carved a distinct segment for himself within the world of fiction even as Orhan Pamuk who writes exquisite novels won the Nobel award. Pamuk’s work often touches on the deep rooted tensions of spiritual conflict between East and West, tradition and modernism or secularism. Loss of identity occurs in an alien land within the novel owing to the colonial impact within the postcolonial context. These are the ideas that involve relationship between individuals belonging to the identical or to different communities that sometimes transgress and transcend the shadow lines of political borders. Depicting meticulously the lives of Indian diaspora in Burma, this novel has taken a lot of time for Ghosh, travelling between the boundaries of south Asian countries as to incorporate the events of this novel. Ghosh tells the story of colonizer-colonized relationship through the temporal and spatial journeys of his characters. Pamuk and Ghosh talkabout the national identity, oppression, diaspora, exile and a host of such factors which influence the construction of a nation. Both as novelists deals with culture, nationality, tradition, the conflict between the east and the west, communication, defending individual’s rights of expression and belief and arguing against religious and nationalism.

The article proposes to change the view on modern Western Europe, which is predicted crisis and death in the future in connection with its rejection of traditional values. The authors of the article, using the example of legal consciousness and human rights values, try to show that, in fact, digital globalization and the digital transformation of society cause a conservative reaction from religious confessions. The religious consciousness of traditional European confessions is recognized in the article as the most conservative. The authors are convinced that the reaction of the legal consciousness of representatives of both the Roman Catholic Church and the Russian Orthodox Church in relation to artificial intelligence and digital technologies is due to the protection of human rights and dignity of the individual in the new digital era. The article uses the methods of philosophy of law, legal ethnology, legal anthropology, and sociology of law to consider the processes of transformation of legal consciousness. The work, based on anthropological studies of culturologists and sociologists, shows the erroneousness of the forecast regarding the unification and standardization of legal value-normative systems in the process of digital transformation of society and the state. The authors prove that digitalization, in its own way, has “sharpened” the long-standing disputes about the philosophical and legal nature of the categories “dignity of the individual”, “nation state”, “human rights”, “respect for the person”, “legal mentality”, “legal culture”, etc. An important conclusion in the work is the following: practically all Christian traditional confessions negatively assess the synthesis of artificial intelligence technologies and the ideas of digital capitalism. There is also a conflict between the conservative religious consciousness and the views of representatives of the fashionable philosophy of transhumanism. The article emphasizes that representatives of Christian communities pay special attention to threats and risks to children's rights, protection of juvenile rights and freedoms. The authors come to another conclusion: in general, European Christian conservatism adheres to a moderate assessment of new information technologies from the point of view of protecting the dignity of the individual and human rights. These processes provoke protest, since the conflict of values is very dangerous and can lead to a deep civilizational split. At the same time, the loss of the religious and moral foundations of the legal consciousness and legal culture of the inhabitants of the EU countries leads to anarchy and unrest. Rationalism and technocracy of the modern technological order do not unambiguously lead to unconditional acceptance by representatives of the countries that created this order.

Northern Ireland’s socio-political milieu over recent decades “pressured” its residents to affiliate with one of the two strongly antagonizing identities. In 1998, the Good Friday Agreement was signed to terminate the conflict between the Catholic/ Nationalist and Protestant/Unionist side. The primary aim of that settlement was to establish a solid collective framework for securing mutual coexistence, but more importantly it endorsed the idea of a regional (reformed) identity to be shared by both communities. And inasmuch as the aforementioned societal consensus has been institutionalized, even if only on the very rudimentary level, then bidding farewell to political/religious (almost sectarian) sympathies has turned to be far more difficult. Glenn Patterson stands among those home-grown writers who have been struggling with the burden of such troublesome identity formations. Therefore, the paper’s main focus is to explore the setbacks Patterson and the like face when trying to acknowledge a distinctly new character of Northern Irishness. In doing so, he highlights that the sine qua non of any potential success consists in deconstructing/defying the deep-seated divisions of the Troubles. Mindful of the journal’s thematic frame of a timely consideration of the “Recovered Territories,” I intend to depict Patterson as an individual/author/citizen whose artistic endeavor has been constantly gravitating towards reclaiming the ground for [re]building he Northern Irish identity, and replacing the well-known (Catholic-Protestant/ Irish-British) dichotomies. Drawing upon two collections of Patterson’s non-fiction accounts, Lapsed Protestant from 2006 and Here’s Me Here from 2016, my article concentrates upon both the hopes and obstacles manifested during the post-Troubles context of an attempted tropism towards a more neutral/non-politicized Northern Irish identification, in hopes that the similar dynamics may also shed light upon the Polish context.

Jeanette Winterson’s Sexing the Cherry (1989), which is regarded as one of the best examples in the postmodern fiction, offers a new space for re-considering genders, identities and environmental problems by effacing the boundaries of story/history, self/other, male/female, reality/fantasy, material/immaterial, nature/culture, natural/unnatural, and human/nonhuman. Questioning the monologic discourses of anthropocentrism and androcentrism, the novel deals with social restrictions, political upheavals, religious conflicts, authoritative inequalities, gender issues, and environmental destruction in multiple contexts. Winterson’s novel presents the voice, subjectivity and agency of the monstrous, the most feared, the ignored, the muted and the oppressed, including all human beings regardless of their gender and nonhuman life forms. To achieve this aim, the author retells some events in English history in a detailed way through the voices and perspectives of larger-than-life characters. In doing so, Winterson seeks to deconstruct the officialdom, authoritarian power relations, political hierarchies and social inequalities. She also attempts to eliminate the patriarchal and anthropocentric biases and norms for ecological justice. In this sense, the novel suggests a carnivalesque space with a multiplicity of self and voice and offers a dialogic world with infinite possible ways of existence, fluidity and interdependence of beings. Within this framework, this article seeks to explore Sexing the Cherry in the light of Bakhtinian grotesque realism within the ecocentric view to discuss the effects of the authoritarian, hierarchical and patriarchal attitudes of the human on human and nonhuman communities. In her novel, the author tries to revive the agency of the nonhuman to oppose Cartesian binary oppositions that keep humans away from their physical environment and lead to an anthropocentric tendency that reduces both nature and all its nonhuman inhabitants to objects. Therefore, the article aims to show grotesque responses and challenges demonstrated by the main characters to the environmental problems depicted in the novel. Consequently, Winterson, in accordance with Bakhtin’s grotesque realism, imagines a world of optimism and equality and focuses on the union and harmony of the human with the nonhuman.

Abstract. Feminism is alleged to have marginalized and objectified non Western, ethnic, religious, cultural and geographical communities. Women from these marginalized segments are now indigenising the movement to make the cause pluralistic, feminisms—representation of women across the globe. Islamic feminism or/and Muslim feminism, not necessarily advocated by Muslims, is one of the feminist facets that enriches the concept of feminism by bringing to the fore Islam as a faith towards women liberation. This study engages with expression of femaleness, if not feminism, in Sudanese-Scottish fictionist Leila Aboulela’s work— ‘Minaret’. Aboulela’s heroine, Najwa, reinvents herself from liberalism towards Islam. She does not set out to defend Islam from a Western perspective that has come to characterise popular narratives about identity and the clash of cultures in Britain. Instead, she relates to an inside experience of connecting with Islamic network of customs and beliefs for spiritual appease. The key concern of the study is to examine the way this transformation takes place—stimulus and modalities. At times her version of bondage with Islam justifies and reinforces patriarchy rather than combating it. In that, she appears to be standing on the wrong side of notion of gender egalitarianism in Islam. Incongruously, Anwar, the male protagonist emerges as a profeminist portraying liberal feminist values. The denouement is that we need to tolerate diversity of feminist cause within Islamic circles and beyond with a progressive spiritKeywords: Islam, Gender, Islamic feminism, Middle Eastern, Women Fiction, Minaret.Resumen. Se alega que el feminismo ha marginalizado y objetivizado a las comunidades no occidentales. Las mujeres desde estos segmentos marginalizados (étnicos, religiosos y culturales) ahora inician movimientos para convertir a la causa en plural con el fin de que los feminismos sean representados en todo el planeta. El feminismo islámico y/o feminismo musulmán, no necesariamente defendido por musulmanes, es una de las facetas feministas que enriquecen el concepto de feminismo, el cual presenta al islam como una fe que se dirige hacia la liberación de la mujer. Este estudio, entre otras cuestiones, se compromete con las expresiones de la feminidad y no con el feminismo.Palabras clave Islam, género, feminismo islámico, Medio Este, mujeres de ficción, Minarete

-Selwyn R. Cudjoe, John Thieme, The web of tradition: uses of allusion in V.S. Naipaul's fiction,-A. James Arnold, Josaphat B. Kubayanda, The poet's Africa: Africanness in the poetry of Nicolás Guillèn and Aimé Césaire. Westport CT: Greenwood, 1990. xiv + 176 pp.-Peter Mason, Robin F.A. Fabel, Shipwreck and adventures of Monsieur Pierre Viaud, translated by Robin F.A. Fabel. Pensacola: University of West Florida Press, 1990. viii + 141 pp.-Alma H. Young, Robert B. Potter, Urbanization, planning and development in the Caribbean, London: Mansell Publishing, 1989. vi + 327 pp.-Hymie Rubinstein, Raymond T. Smith, Kinship and class in the West Indies: a genealogical study of Jamaica and Guyana, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988. xiv + 205 pp.-Shepard Krech III, Richard Price, Alabi's world, Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1990. xx + 445 pp.-Graham Hodges, Sandra T. Barnes, Africa's Ogun: Old world and new, Bloomington & Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1989. xi + 274 pp.-Pamela Wright, Philippe I. Bourgois, Ethnicity at work: divided labor on a Central American banana plantation, Baltimore MD: John Hopkins University Press, 1989. xviii + 311 pp.-Idsa E. Alegría-Ortega, Andrés Serbin, El Caribe zona de paz? geopolítica, integración, y seguridad, Caracas: Editorial Nueva Sociedad, 1989. 188 pp. (Paper n.p.) [Editor's note. This book is also available in English: Caribbean geopolitics: towards security through peace? Boulder CO: Lynne Rienner, 1990.-Gary R. Mormino, C. Neale Ronning, José Martí and the émigré colony in Key West: leadership and state formation, New York; Praeger, 1990. 175 pp.-Gary R. Mormino, Gerald E. Poyo, 'With all, and for the good of all': the emergence of popular nationalism in the Cuban communities of the United States, 1848-1898, Durham NC: Duke University Press, 1989. xvii + 182 pp.-Fernando Picó, Raul Gomez Treto, The church and socialism in Cuba, translated from the Spanish by Phillip Berryman. Maryknoll NY: Orbis, 1988. xii + 151 pp.-Fernando Picó, John M. Kirk, Between God and the party: religion and politics in revolutionary Cuba. Tampa FL: University of South Florida Press, 1989. xxi + 231 pp.-Andrés Serbin, Carmen Gautier Mayoral ,Puerto Rico en la economía política del Caribe, Río Piedras PR; Ediciones Huracán, 1990. 204 pp., Angel I. Rivera Ortiz, Idsa E. Alegría Ortega (eds)-Andrés Serbin, Carmen Gautier Mayoral ,Puerto Rico en las relaciones internacionales del Caribe, Río Piedras PR: Ediciones Huracán, 1990. 195 pp., Angel I. Rivera Ortiz, Idsa E. Alegría Ortega (eds)-Jay R. Mandle, Jorge Heine, A revolution aborted : the lessons of Grenada, Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1990. x + 351 pp.-Douglas Midgett, Rhoda Reddock, Elma Francois: the NWCSA and the workers' struggle for change in the Caribbean in the 1930's, London: New Beacon Books, 1988. vii + 60 pp.-Douglas Midgett, Susan Craig, Smiles and blood: the ruling class response to the workers' rebellion of 1937 in Trinidad and Tobago, London: New Beacon Books, 1988. vii + 70 pp.-Ken Post, Carlene J. Edie, Democracy by default: dependency and clientelism in Jamaica, Kingston, Jamaica: Ian Randle Publishers, and Boulder CO: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1991. xiv + 170 pp.-Ken Post, Trevor Munroe, Jamaican politics: a Marxist perspective in transition, Kingston, Jamaica: Heinemann Publishers (Caribbean) and Boulder CO: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1991. 322 pp.-Wendell Bell, Darrell E. Levi, Michael Manley: the making of a leader, Athens GA: University of Georgia Press, 1990, 349 pp.-Wim Hoogbergen, Mavis C. Campbell, The Maroons of Jamaica, 1655-1796: a history of resistance, collaboration and betrayal, Granby MA Bergin & Garvey, 1988. vi + 296 pp.-Kenneth M. Bilby, Rebekah Michele Mulvaney, Rastafari and reggae: a dictionary and sourcebook, Westport CT: Greenwood, 1990. xvi + 253 pp.-Robert Dirks, Jerome S. Handler ,Searching for a slave cemetery in Barbados, West Indies: a bioarcheological and ethnohistorical investigation, Carbondale IL: Center for archaeological investigations, Southern Illinois University, 1989. xviii + 125 pp., Michael D. Conner, Keith P. Jacobi (eds)-Gert Oostindie, Cornelis Ch. Goslinga, The Dutch in the Caribbean and in Surinam 1791/1942, Assen, Maastricht: Van Gorcum, 1990. xii + 812 pp.-Rosemarijn Hoefte, Alfons Martinus Gerardus Rutten, Apothekers en chirurgijns: gezondheidszorg op de Benedenwindse eilanden van de Nederlandse Antillen in de negentiende eeuw, Assen/Maastricht: Van Gorcum, 1989. xx + 330 pp.-Rene A. Römer, Luc Alofs ,Ken ta Arubiano? sociale integratie en natievorming op Aruba, Leiden: Department of Caribbean studies, Royal Institute of Linguistics and Anthropology, 1990. xi + 232 pp., Leontine Merkies (eds)-Michiel van Kempen, Benny Ooft et al., De nacht op de Courage - Caraïbische vertellingen, Vreeland, the Netherlands: Basispers, 1990.-M. Stevens, F.E.R. Derveld ,Winti-religie: een Afro-Surinaamse godsdienst in Nederland, Amersfoort, the Netherlands: Academische Uitgeverij Amersfoort, 1988. 188 pp., H. Noordegraaf (eds)-Dirk H. van der Elst, H.U.E. Thoden van Velzen ,The great Father and the danger: religious cults, material forces, and collective fantasies in the world of the Surinamese Maroons, Dordrecht, the Netherlands and Providence RI: Foris Publications, 1988. xiv + 451 pp. [Second printing, Leiden: KITLV Press, 1991], W. van Wetering (eds)-Johannes M. Postma, Gert Oostindie, Roosenburg en Mon Bijou: twee Surinaamse plantages, 1720-1870, Dordrecht, Netherlands: Foris Publications, 1989. x + 548 pp.-Elizabeth Ann Schneider, John W. Nunley ,Caribbean festival arts: each and every bit of difference, Seattle/St. Louis: University of Washington Press / Saint Louis Art Museum, 1989. 217 pp., Judith Bettelheim (eds)-Bridget Brereton, Howard S. Pactor, Colonial British Caribbean newspapers: a bibliography and directory, Westport CT: Greenwood, 1990. xiii + 144 pp.-Marian Goslinga, Annotated bibliography of Puerto Rican bibliographies, compiled by Fay Fowlie-Flores. Westport CT: Greenwood Press, 1990. xxvi + 167 pp.

This article studies evangelical horror fiction, such as the Left Behind series, Chick tracts, and the Hell House, which have been relatively popular in American evangelical communities. Despite being labeled as fiction, these horror stories have traditionally been consumed as reality and/or prophecy. Many have relied on Christian nationalist ideas, such as anti-gay and anti-abortion rhetoric, in their stories. While the relationship between evangelical horror and the Christian Right has impacted its evangelical consumers both theologically and politically, its transcendence into non-evangelical popular culture is less researched. This paper looks at how evangelical horror tropes, most of which are inspired by Christian nationalist ideology, have been appropriated by non-evangelical fiction. Analysis of The Conjuring and its sequel will reveal the adoption of many tropes often found in evangelical horror and the Christian Right.

The literature produced at global level by dispersed community that has common ancestral homeland is known as the literature of Indian diaspora. Indian communities are spread all over the major countries of the world. The total population of Indian diaspora in the world is near about twenty million. People from India settle abroad and maintain a strong bond with motherland. The diaspora literature have certain important features, that separate their writing from the mainstream of contemporary writers. The Indian writer have brought diaspora literature at world wide recognition. Nobel laureate V.S. Naipaul was famous writer of Indian origin had he has great contribution in diaspora literature. KEYWORDS: Diaspora, Homeland, Dispersed, Indentured, Expatriate, Exile, Migration.

The aim of this article is to explore the depiction of baptism in Marilynne Robinson's Lila. In a way that is unique for contemporary fiction, the protagonist, Lila, seeks in baptism a relief of her chronic feelings of shame and a confirmation that she is loved. However, after her baptism the Calvinist doctrine of election drives Lila to emotional and theological despair. I suggest that the Calvinist notion of adoption in baptism is a unifying thread in Lila's theological and psychological dilemma, emphasized by her reading of the Book of Ezekiel. From a theological point of view, in baptism one changes ontologically for once and for all. But Lila's story shows that grappling with this transformation can be an emotionally painful process. Robinson depicts her protagonist as a theologian in her own right. This is significant in a novel in which the theological authority lies with male pastors and theologians, regardless of whether they are present in theological books or in religious communities in the 1950s Midwest. Lila understands in a mystical experience of heaven that she will be able to bring her non-Christian loved ones with her into heaven. This unusual rewriting of sacramental theology signifies how Lila constructs her own theology; a rewriting that connects baptism with Barth's universalism and his idea of restoring all humanity. Thus, I argue in this article that in Lila Robinson incorporates a recurring idea of sacramental theology into her fiction, a final restoration in which grace mends the relationships severed in and by life.

This paper examines the rise of COVID-19 related conspiracy theories through a Durkheimian lens. Specifically, Durkheim’s concepts of anomie, collective consciousness, and religion can be useful in interpreting the increased participation in conspiracy theory groups. It examines how social distancing measures and government restrictions have led to increased anomie, and how conspiracy theory groups have been used to mitigate this anomic state by introducing shared beliefs and norms. These groups have also created opportunities for people to come together physically and virtually, sharing common beliefs and goals creating a distinct collective consciousness. This paper also focuses on social media’s role in perpetuating conspiracy theories and how online communities create an environment where it becomes difficult to decipher fact from fiction. It also focuses on how online communities foster group cohesion in a virtual environment. In addition, the paper also likens conspiracy groups to religious ones using Émile Durkheim’s definition.

Authenticity of the representations of the “real” problems of the Indian diasporans in Indian diaspora fiction has often been questioned by the critics as some ten or twelve years back, in the hands of most of the Indian diasporic writers, the problems of acculturation often got reduced only to the difficulty in mastering native manners and customs. Eminent Indian diaspora writers such as Jhumpa Lahiri and Kiran Desai, were, indeed, silent on religious, ethnic and racial problems that the Indian diasporic communities encounter in the host countries. Post 9/11 developments, mainly in the US, however, have compelled some of the Indian diaspora writers to respond to these issues. Marina Budhos’s Ask Me No Questions (2007), Kazim Ali’s The Disappearance of Seth (2009) and Hari Kunzru’s Transmission(2004) document post-9/11 hate crimes against the South Asians/Southeast Asians in general and the Muslims in particular in the US that expose the racialised fabric of the nation. It is interesting to observe that unlike Budhos, Ali and Kunzru, the big shots of Indian English diaspora fiction are still silent on issues that could be unpalatable, mainly, to the readers of the hostlands. This article, by focussing on the three novels mentioned above, will examine who are throwing light on the other side of the moon and why. In so doing, it will take up the novels not in terms of their chronological appearance, but in terms of the degree of their engagement with the immediate aftermath of 9/11.

This study reports on the preliminary outcome evaluation of the Magone Home Aftercare Program (MHAP), a faith-based juvenile justice residential facility in the Philippines that provides intensive aftercare treatment for adolescent males involved in the juvenile justice system after their time in a rehabilitation facility or community detention in their area of residence. Although evaluation studies are typically conducted using quantitative research methods, we believe a narrative research approach can be a useful methodology that elucidates “ why” and “ how” or “ the story” behind the success of the program. As such, we evaluated the effectiveness of the MHAP in facilitating the reintegration of its beneficiaries through the stories they tell. Particularly, we analyzed and compared the life stories of MHAP beneficiaries who have been successfully reintegrated into their respective communities within the frame of redemptive narrative identity. The analysis of the interview data revealed that the life stories of these former beneficiaries contained redemption scenes in which they drew on adverse childhood experiences (extreme poverty, parental neglect, abuse, abandonment, and crime) in realizing their true selves (by gaining wisdom from the past, opportunities, new sources of strength, and desire to help others). Importantly, the redemption narratives also contained key life episodes that recognized the MHAP as the key to their successful reintegration into society. Such findings provide valuable information (i.e. how the program has achieved its objectives) to all levels of the MHAP, from program beneficiaries and front-line staff to decision-makers and funders, as well as community partners.

In the wake of a protracted militancy in the Malakand region of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, the post-2007 military operations in the Swat valley culminated in the soft counter-insurgency approach under the De-Radicalization and Emancipation Programs (DREP). In doing so, Sabaoon was established in 2009 as the first de-radicalization initiative in Pakistan and the only program in the world to de-radicalize juvenile militants associated with Tehrik-i-Taliban Pakistan (TTP). Furthermore, Saboon focused on reintegrating the juvenile into their communities as productive and valuable citizens. By drawing on primary and secondary data sources, this paper attempts to highlight the push and pull factors that led the children towards militancy, their rehabilitation methods and techniques used at Sabaoon, and the impacts of the rehabilitation program on reintegration into society. The paper argues that the Sabaoon program aimed to promote religious harmony and tolerance by addressing the ideological and social problems that drove the children towards militancy. The study further argues that most reintegrated children are now running their own small businesses, such as auto-mechanic workshops, carpentry, electronic appliances repair, etc., while some serve in government and non-government institutions. However, the data also suggests a higher recidivism ratio among these juveniles.

Abstract Le Comte de Monte-Cristo (1844) by Alexandre Dumas père is among the popular novels translated into many languages and scripts in the Ottoman Empire in the nineteenth century. The Karamanlidika (Turkish in Greek script) edition of 1882–83 has not hitherto been studied in a comparative reading with the source text. This article identifies the source text as the Turkish in Arabic script translation of Monte Kristo (1871) by Teodor Kasap, a prominent figure in Ottoman Turkish literature and press. This source text affected the ornate language in the Karamanlidika translation, in sharp contrast to the general tendency towards plainness in the Karamanlidika fiction of the time. Taking “translation” (terceme) as an umbrella term, the article analyses the practices of both Kasap and the unknown Karamanlidika translator in translating the novel. The paper also analyses the conventional paratexts of the Karamanlidika edition, such as the publication house, the dedication page and the subscriber’s list in the back of the book to understand the mechanisms of book production and circulation among the Turcophone Orthodox community. One volume published in an Armeno-Turkish publishing house indicates an intercommunal publishing activity between Christian communities in mid-19th century. The subscriber’s list from various cities of Asia Minor and the dedication to an Anatolian notable is typical in the sense it shows the dominance of the Anatolian readers in the style, language and vocabulary of the texts produced in Karamanlidika.

Smith Milway, Katie. Mimi's Village and How Basic Health Care Transformed It. Toronto, ON: Kids Can Press, 2012. Print.Mimi’s Village is part of the CitizenKid series, a collection that seeks to inspire children to be better global citizens. Based on Katie Smith Milway’s experiences working for non-profit organizations, the story is set in Western Kenya – a real-world context that is vividly supported by Eugenie Fernandes’ colourful full-page illustrations of flora, fauna and village life.Told in simple one-page chapters, this story introduces children to the health challenges experienced by Mimi and her family: unsafe drinking water, a child’s life-threatening illness, and travel through the night to a distant health clinic. As the story develops, readers begin to see that small steps can radically improve health in the village: clean water, vaccinations and mosquito nets. Perhaps most importantly, Mimi’s inspirational role – she asks her father, “Could you build a clinic too? Maybe then a nurse would come” – demonstrates that children can make meaningful contributions to their communities. This theme is carried into the book’s final seven pages, which include the story of a “real village health worker,” as well as concrete suggestions that answer the question, “How can you help?”The writing in this book is not the strongest and the title may not inspire child readers. In addition, younger readers will benefit from reading this with an adult. These shortcomings are, however, fully mitigated by Mimi’s engaging story and the book’s two important messages: simple public health measures will dramatically improve the lives of many children living throughout the world; and children everywhere can positively impact their world. This juvenile nonfiction book will make a compelling addition to any library collection.Recommended: 3 out of 4 starsReviewer: Shelagh K. GenuisShelagh K. Genuis is an Alberta Innovates–Health Solutions Postdoctoral Research Fellow at the University of Alberta’s School of Public Health. Although an avid reader of biography, she has never stopped reading children’s fiction.

News and AnnouncementsAs we move into the so-called “summer reading” mode (although reading is obviously not a seasonal thing for many people), here is a “summery” (pardon the pun) of some recent Canadian book awards and shortlists.To see the plethora of Forest of Reading ® tree awards from the Ontario Library Association, go to https://www.accessola.org/WEB/OLAWEB/Forest_of_Reading/About_the_Forest.aspx. IBBY Canada (the Canadian national section of the International Board on Books for Young People) announced that the Claude Aubry Award for distinguished service in the field of children’s literature will be presented to Judith Saltman and Jacques Payette. Both winners will receive their awards in conjunction with a special event for children's literature in the coming year. http://www.ibby-canada.org/ibby-canadas-aubry-award-presented-2015/IBBY Canada also awarded the 2015 Elizabeth Mrazik-Cleaver Picture Book Award to Pierre Pratt, illustrator of Stop, Thief!. http://www.ibby-canada.org/awards/elizabeth-mrazik-cleaver-award/The annual reading programme known as First Nation Communities Read (FNCR) and the Periodical Marketers of Canada (PMC) jointly announced Peace Pipe Dreams: The Truth about Lies about Indians by Darrell Dennis (Douglas & McIntyre) as the FNCR 2015-2016 title as well as winner of PMC’s $5000 Aboriginal Literature Award. A jury of librarians from First Nations public libraries in Ontario, with coordination support from Southern Ontario Library Service, selected Peace Pipe Dreams from more than 19 titles submitted by Canadian publishers. “In arriving at its selection decision, the jury agreed that the book is an important one that dispels myths and untruths about Aboriginal people in Canada today and sets the record straight. The author tackles such complicated issues such as religion, treaties, and residential schools with knowledge, tact and humour, leaving readers with a greater understanding of our complex Canadian history.” http://www.sols.org/index.php/links/fn-communities-readCharis Cotter, author of The Swallow: A Ghost Story, has been awarded The National Chapter of Canada IODE Violet Downey Book Award for 2015. Published by Tundra Books, the novel is suggested for children ages nine to 12. http://www.iode.ca/2015-iode-violet-downey-book-award.htmlThe 2015 winners of the Ruth and Sylvia Schwartz Children’s Book Awards were selected by two juries of young readers from Toronto’s Alexander Muir / Gladstone Avenue Junior and Senior Public School. A jury of grade 3 and 4 students selected the recipient of the Children’s Picture Book Award, and a jury of grade 7 and 8 students selected the recipient of the Young Adult / Middle Reader Award. Each student read the books individually and then worked together with their group to reach consensus and decide on a winner. This process makes it a unique literary award in Canada.The Magician of Auschwitz by Kathy Kacer and illustrated by Gillian Newland (Second Story Press) won the Children’s Picture Book Category.The winner for the Young Adult/Middle Reader Category was The Boundless by Kenneth Oppel (HarperCollins Publishers).http://www.ontarioartsfoundation.on.ca/pages/ruth-sylvia-schwartz-awardsFrom the Canadian Library Association:The Night Gardener by Jonathan Auxier (Penguin Canada) was awarded CLA’s 2015 Book of the Year for Children Award.Any Questions?, written and illustrated by Marie-Louise Gay (Groundwood Books) won the 2015 Amelia Frances Howard-Gibbon Award.This One Summer by Mariko & Jillian Tamaki (Groundwood) was awarded the 2015 Young Adult Book Award.http://www.cla.ca/AM/Template.cfm?Section=Book_Awards&Template=/CM/HTMLDisplay.cfm&ContentID=16132The 2015 Winner of the Crime Writers of Canada’s Arthur Ellis Awards for Best Juvenile/YA Book was Sigmund Brouwer’s Dead Man's Switch (Harvest House). http://crimewriterscanada.com/Regional awards:Alberta’s Ross Annett Award for Children’s Literature 2015:Little You by Richard Van Camp (Orca Book Publishers) http://www.bookcentre.ca/awards/r_ross_annett_award_childrens_literatureRocky Mountain Book Award 2015:Last Train: A Holocaust Story by Rona Arato. (Owl Kids, 2013) http://www.rmba.info/last-train-holocaust-storyAtlantic Book Awards 2015 from the Atlantic Book Awards SocietyAnn Connor Brimer Award for Children’s Literature: The End of the Line by Sharon E. McKay (Annick Press).Lillian Shepherd Award for Excellence in Illustration: Music is for Everyone illustrated by Sydney Smith and written by Jill Barber (Nimbus Publishing) http://atlanticbookawards.ca/awards/Hackmatack Children’s Choice Book Award 2015:English fiction: Scare Scape by Sam Fisher.English non-fiction: WeirdZone: Sports by Maria Birmingham.French fiction: Toxique by Amy Lachapelle.French non-fiction: Au labo, les Débrouillards! by Yannick Bergeron. http://hackmatack.ca/en/index.htmlFrom the 2015 BC Book Prizes for authors and/or illustrators living in British Columbia or the Yukon:The Christie Harris Illustrated Children's Literature Prize was awarded to Dolphin SOS by Roy Miki and Slavia Miki with illustrations by Julie Flett (Tradewind).The Sheila A. Egoff Children's Literature Prize for “novels, including chapter books, and non-fiction books, including biography, aimed at juveniles and young adults, which have not been highly illustrated” went to Maggie de Vries for Rabbit Ears (HarperCollins). http://www.bcbookprizes.ca/winners/2015The 2015 Manitoba Young Readers’ Choice Award (MYRCA) was awarded to Ultra by David Carroll. http://www.myrca.ca/Camp Outlook by Brenda Baker (Second Story Press) was the 2015 winner of the SaskEnergy Young Adult Literature Award. http://www.bookawards.sk.ca/awards/awards-nominees/2015-awards-and-nominees/category/saskenergy-young-adult-literature-awardFor more information on Canadian children’s book awards check out http://www.canadianauthors.net/awards/. Please note that not all regional awards are included in this list; if you are so inclined, perhaps send their webmaster a note regarding an award that you think should be included.Happy reading and exploring.Yours in stories (in all seasons and shapes and sizes)Gail de VosGail de Vos is an adjunct professor who teaches courses on Canadian children's literature, young adult literature, and commic books and graphic novels at the School of Library and Information Studies (SLIS) at the University of Alberta and is the author of nine books on storytelling and folklore. She is a professional storyteller and has taught the storytelling course at SLIS for over two decades.

Abstract. Moral problems are problems for which there is no complete answer. Parameters of declining morals are marked by rampant juvenile delinquency, corruption, collusion, nepotism, promiscuity, bullying etc. It is necessary to takesteps preventive that must be done. Education has the most strategic position in teaching morals. the provision of moral education is not only in the form of verbal in formal or non-formal education, but can also be through written works presented in the form of literature or fiction writings such as novels. When reading a novel indirectly, it means that the reader is in the process of receiving messages, in this case educational messages. This study aims to describe the views of novel critics about the novel Kembara Rindu, the values ​​of moral education in the novel Kembara Rindu by Habiburrahman El-Shirazy, and the relevance of the values ​​of moral education in the novel Kembara Rindu by Habiburrahman El-Shirazy to PAI learning materials. The type of research used is library research with a qualitative approach, using data collection techniques through documentation. The researcher as a human instrument has a function as a data source, collecting data to making conclusions on everything that has been found. The data analysis technique used is content analysis (content analysis). The results of this study indicate that the views of the critics of the novel call this novel as a soul builder and insert a lot of advice and da'wah and there are many meanings and lessons that can be taken. The novel also contains the values ​​of moral education, including praying, being grateful, being honest, respecting parents, caring, respecting teachers, being responsible, and being patient. Then there is the relevance of the moral content in the novel Kembara Rindu with Islamic religious education learning materials, including faith, morals, worship, and the Qur'an. Abstrak. Problematika akhlak merupakan persoalan yang belum ada jawabannya secara tuntas. Parameter merosotnya akhlak ditandai dengan maraknya kenakalan remaja, korupsi, kolusi, nepotisme, pergaulan bebas, bullying dan sebagainya. Perlu adanya langkah preventif yang harus dilakukan. Pendidikan memiliki posisi paling strategis dalam pengajaran akhlak. pemberian pendidikan akhlak tidak hanya dalam bentuk verbal pada pendidikan formal ataupun nonformal, tetapi dapat juga melalui karya tulis yang disajikan berupa sastra maupun tulisan-tulisan fiksi seperti Novel. Saat membaca novel secara tidak langsung, berarti pembaca sedang melakukan proses penerimaan pesan, dalam hal ini pesan-pesan pendidikan. Penelitian ini bertujuan untuk mendeskripsikan pandangan para kritik novel tentang novel Kembara Rindu, nilai-nilai pendidikan akhlak dalam novel Kembara Rindu karya Habiburrahman El-Shirazy, serta relevansi nilai-nilai pendidikan akhlak dalam novel Kembara Rindu karya Habiburrahman El-Shirazy terhadap materi pembelajaran PAI. Jenis penelitian yang diguanakan yaitu library research dengan pendekatan kualitatif, menggunakan teknik pengumpulan data melalui dokumentasi. Peneliti sebagai human instrumen yang memiliki fungsi sebagai sumber data, pengumpulan data hingga membuat kesimpulan atas semua yang telah ditemukan. Teknik analisis data yang digunakan analisis isi (content analysis). Hasil penelitian ini menunjukkan pandangan para kritik novel menyebut novel ini sebagai pembangun jiwa serta banyak menyisipkan nasihat serta dakwah dan terdapat banyak makna serta pelajaran yang dapat diambil. Dalam novel tersebut juga terkandung nilai-nilai pendidikan akhlak, diantaranya berdoa, bersyukur, jujur, menghormati orang tua, peduli, menghormati guru, tanggung jawab, dan sabar. Kemudian adanya relevansi dari kandungan akhlak dalam novel Kembara Rindu dengan materi pembelajaran pendidikan agama Islam, diantaranya keimanan, akhlak (budi pekerti), ibadah, dan Al-Qur’an..

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

Introduction I think the Privacy Act is a huge edifice to protect the minority of things that could go wrong. I’ve got a good example for you, I’m just trying to think … yeah the worst one I’ve ever seen was the Balga Youth Program where we took these students on a reward excursion all the way to Fremantle and suddenly this very alienated kid started to jump under a bus, a moving bus so the kid had to be restrained. The cops from Fremantle arrived because all the very good people in Fremantle were alarmed at these grown-ups manhandling a kid and what had happened is that DCD [Department of Community Development] had dropped him into the program but hadn’t told us that this kid had suicide tendencies. No, it’s just chronically bad. And there were caseworkers involved and … there is some information that we have to have that doesn’t get handed down. Rather than a blanket rule that everything’s confidential coming from them to us, and that was a real live situation, and you imagine how we’re trying to handle it, we had taxis going from Balga to Fremantle to get staff involved and we only had to know what to watch out for and we probably could have … well what you would have done is not gone on the excursion I suppose (School Principal, quoted in Balnaves and Luca 49). These comments are from a school principal in Perth, Western Australia in a school that is concerned with “at-risk” students, and in a context where the Commonwealth Privacy Act 1988 has imposed limitations on their work. Under this Act it is illegal to pass health, personal or sensitive information concerning an individual on to other people. In the story cited above the Department of Community Development personnel were apparently protecting the student’s “negative right”, that is, “freedom from” interference by others. On the other hand, the principal’s assertion that such information should be shared is potentially a “positive right” because it could cause something to be done in that person’s or society’s interests. Balnaves and Luca noted that positive and negative rights have complex philosophical underpinnings, and they inform much of how we operate in everyday life and of the dilemmas that arise (49). For example, a ban on euthanasia or the “assisted suicide” of a terminally ill person can be a “positive right” because it is considered to be in the best interests of society in general. However, physicians who tacitly approve a patient’s right to end their lives with a lethal dose by legally prescribed dose of medication could be perceived as protecting the patient’s “negative right” as a “freedom from” interference by others. While acknowledging the merits of collaboration between people who are working to improve the wellbeing of students “at-risk”, this paper examines some of the barriers to collaboration. Based on both primary and secondary sources, and particularly on oral testimonies, the paper highlights the tension between privacy as a negative right and collaborative helping as a positive right. It also points to other difficulties and dilemmas within and between the institutions engaged in this joint undertaking. The authors acknowledge Michel Foucault’s contention that discourse is power. The discourse on privacy and the sharing of information in modern societies suggests that privacy is a negative right that gives freedom from bureaucratic interference and protects the individual. However, arguably, collaboration between agencies that are working to support individuals “at-risk” requires a measured relaxation of the requirements of this negative right. Children and young people “at-risk” are a case in point. Towards Collaboration From a series of interviews conducted in 2004, the school authorities at Balga Senior High School and Midvale Primary School, people working for the Western Australian departments of Community Development, Justice, and Education and Training in Western Australia, and academics at the Edith Cowan and Curtin universities, who are working to improve the wellbeing of students “at-risk” as part of an Australian Research Council (ARC) project called Smart Communities, have identified students “at-risk” as individuals who have behavioural problems and little motivation, who are alienated and possibly violent or angry, who under-perform in the classroom and have begun to truant. They noted also that students “at-risk” often suffer from poor health, lack of food and medication, are victims of unwanted pregnancies, and are engaged in antisocial and illegal behaviour such as stealing cars and substance abuse. These students are also often subject to domestic violence (parents on drugs or alcohol), family separation, and homelessness. Some are depressed or suicidal. Sometimes cultural factors contribute to students being regarded as “at-risk”. For example, a social worker in the Smart Communities project stated: Cultural factors sometimes come into that as well … like with some Muslim families … they can flog their daughter or their son, usually the daughter … so cultural factors can create a risk. Research elsewhere has revealed that those children between the ages of 11-17 who have been subjected to bullying at school or physical or sexual abuse at home and who have threatened and/or harmed another person or suicidal are “high-risk” youths (Farmer 4). In an attempt to bring about a positive change in these alienated or “at-risk” adolescents, Balga Senior High School has developed several programs such as the Youth Parents Program, Swan Nyunger Sports Education program, Intensive English Centre, and lower secondary mainstream program. The Midvale Primary School has provided services such as counsellors, Aboriginal child protection workers, and Aboriginal police liaison officers for these “at-risk” students. On the other hand, the Department of Community Development (DCD) has provided services to parents and caregivers for children up to 18 years. Academics from Edith Cowan and Curtin universities are engaged in gathering the life stories of these “at-risk” students. One aspect of this research entails the students writing their life stories in a secured web portal that the universities have developed. The researchers believe that by engaging the students in these self-exploration activities, they (the students) would develop a more hopeful outlook on life. Though all agencies and educational institutions involved in this collaborative project are working for the well-being of the children “at-risk”, the Privacy Act forbids the authorities from sharing information about them. A school psychologist expressed concern over the Privacy Act: When the Juvenile Justice Department want to reintroduce a student into a school, we can’t find out anything about this student so we can’t do any preplanning. They want to give the student a fresh start, so there’s always that tension … eventually everyone overcomes [this] because you realise that the student has to come to the school and has to be engaged. Of course, the manner and consequences of a student’s engagement in school cannot be predicted. In the scenario described above students may have been given a fair chance to reform themselves, which is their positive right but if they turn out to be at “high risk” it would appear that the Juvenile Department protected the negative right of the students by supporting “freedom from” interference by others. Likewise, a school health nurse in the project considered confidentiality or the Privacy Act an important factor in the security of the student “at-risk”: I was trying to think about this kid who’s one of the children who has been sexually abused, who’s a client of DCD, and I guess if police got involved there and wanted to know details and DCD didn’t want to give that information out then I’d guess I’d say to the police “Well no, you’ll have to talk to the parents about getting further information.” I guess that way, recognising these students are minor and that they are very vulnerable, their information … where it’s going, where is it leading? Who wants to know? Where will it be stored? What will be the outcomes in the future for this kid? As a 14 year old, if they’re reckless and get into things, you know, do they get a black record against them by the time they’re 19? What will that information be used for if it’s disclosed? So I guess I become an advocate for the student in that way? Thus the nurse considers a sexually abused child should not be identified. It is a positive right in the interest of the person. Once again, though, if the student turns out to be at “high risk” or suicidal, then it would appear that the nurse was protecting the youth’s negative right—“freedom from” interference by others. Since collaboration is a positive right and aims at the students’ welfare, the workable solution to prevent the students from suicide would be to develop inter-agency trust and to share vital information about “high-risk” students. Dilemmas of Collaboration Some recent cases of the deaths of young non-Caucasian girls in Western countries, either because of the implications of the Privacy Act or due to a lack of efficient and effective communication and coordination amongst agencies, have raised debates on effective child protection. For example, the British Laming report (2003) found that Victoria Climbié, a young African girl, was sent by her parents to her aunt in Britain in order to obtain a good education and was murdered by her aunt and aunt’s boyfriend. However, the risk that she could be harmed was widely known. The girl’s problems were known to 6 local authorities, 3 housing authorities, 4 social services, 2 child protection teams, and the police, the local church, and the hospital, but not to the education authorities. According to the Laming Report, her death could have been prevented if there had been inter-agency sharing of information and appropriate evaluation (Balnaves and Luca 49). The agencies had supported the negative rights of the young girl’s “freedom from” interference by others, but at the cost of her life. Perhaps Victoria’s racial background may have contributed to the concealment of information and added to her disadvantaged position. Similarly, in Western Australia, the Gordon Inquiry into the death of Susan Taylor, a 15 year old girl Aboriginal girl at the Swan Nyungah Community, found that in her short life this girl had encountered sexual violation, violence, and the ravages of alcohol and substance abuse. The Gordon Inquiry reported: Although up to thirteen different agencies were involved in providing services to Susan Taylor and her family, the D[epartment] of C[ommunity] D[evelopment] stated they were unaware of “all the services being provided by each agency” and there was a lack of clarity as to a “lead coordinating agency” (Gordon et al. quoted in Scott 45). In this case too, multiple factors—domestic, racial, and the Privacy Act—may have led to Susan Taylor’s tragic end. In the United Kingdom, Harry Ferguson noted that when a child is reported to be “at-risk” from domestic incidents, they can suffer further harm because of their family’s concealment (204). Ferguson’s study showed that in 11 per cent of the 319 case sample, children were known to be re-harmed within a year of initial referral. Sometimes, the parents apply a veil of secrecy around themselves and their children by resisting or avoiding services. In such cases the collaborative efforts of the agencies and education may be thwarted. Lack of cultural education among teachers, youth workers, and agencies could also put the “at-risk” cultural minorities into a high risk category. For example, an “at-risk” Muslim student may not be willing to share personal experiences with the school or agencies because of religious sensitivities. This happened in the UK when Khadji Rouf was abused by her father, a Bangladeshi. Rouf’s mother, a white woman, and her female cousin from Bangladesh, both supported Rouf when she finally disclosed that she had been sexually abused for over eight years. After group therapy, Rouf stated that she was able to accept her identity and to call herself proudly “mixed race”, whereas she rejected the Asian part of herself because it represented her father. Other Asian girls and young women in this study reported that they could not disclose their abuse to white teachers or social workers because of the feeling that they would be “letting down their race or their Muslim culture” (Rouf 113). The marginalisation of many Muslim Australians both in the job market and in society is long standing. For example, in 1996 and again in 2001 the Muslim unemployment rate was three times higher than the national total (Australian Bureau of Statistics). But since the 9/11 tragedy and Bali bombings visible Muslims, such as women wearing hijabs (headscarves), have sometimes been verbally and physically abused and called ‘terrorists’ by some members of the wider community (Dreher 13). The Howard government’s new anti-terrorism legislation and the surveillance hotline ‘Be alert not alarmed’ has further marginalised some Muslims. Some politicians have also linked Muslim asylum seekers with terrorists (Kabir 303), which inevitably has led Muslim “at-risk” refugee students to withdraw from school support such as counselling. Under these circumstances, Muslim “at-risk” students and their parents may prefer to maintain a low profile rather than engage with agencies. In this case, arguably, federal government politics have exacerbated the barriers to collaboration. It appears that unfamiliarity with Muslim culture is not confined to mainstream Australians. For example, an Aboriginal liaison police officer engaged in the Smart Communities project in Western Australia had this to say about Muslim youths “at-risk”: Different laws and stuff from different countries and they’re coming in and sort of thinking that they can bring their own laws and religions and stuff … and when I say religions there’s laws within their religions as well that they don’t seem to understand that with Australia and our laws. Such generalised misperceptions of Muslim youths “at-risk” would further alienate them, thus causing a major hindrance to collaboration. The “at-risk” factors associated with Aboriginal youths have historical connections. Research findings have revealed that indigenous youths aged between 10-16 years constitute a vast majority in all Australian States’ juvenile detention centres. This over-representation is widely recognised as associated with the nature of European colonisation, and is inter-related with poverty, marginalisation and racial discrimination (Watson et al. 404). Like the Muslims, their unemployment rate was three times higher than the national total in 2001 (ABS). However, in 1998 it was estimated that suicide rates among Indigenous peoples were at least 40 per cent higher than national average (National Advisory Council for Youth Suicide Prevention, quoted in Elliot-Farrelly 2). Although the wider community’s unemployment rate is much lower than the Aboriginals and the Muslims, the “at-risk” factors of mainstream Australian youths are often associated with dysfunctional families, high conflict, low-cohesive families, high levels of harsh parental discipline, high levels of victimisation by peers, and high behavioural inhibition (Watson et al. 404). The Macquarie Fields riots in 2005 revealed the existence of “White” underclass and “at-risk” people in Sydney. Macquarie Fields’ unemployment rate was more than twice the national average. Children growing up in this suburb are at greater risk of being involved in crime (The Age). Thus small pockets of mainstream underclass youngsters also require collaborative attention. In Western Australia people working on the Smart Communities project identified that lack of resources can be a hindrance to collaboration for all sectors. As one social worker commented: “government agencies are hierarchical systems and lack resources”. They went on to say that in their department they can not give “at-risk” youngsters financial assistance in times of crisis: We had a petty cash box which has got about 40 bucks in it and sometimes in an emergency we might give a customer a couple of dollars but that’s all we can do, we can’t give them any larger amount. We have bus/metro rail passes, that’s the only thing that we’ve actually got. A youth worker in Smart Communities commented that a lot of uncertainty is involved with young people “at-risk”. They said that there are only a few paid workers in their field who are supported and assisted by “a pool of volunteers”. Because the latter give their time voluntarily they are under no obligation to be constant in their attendance, so the number of available helpers can easily fluctuate. Another youth worker identified a particularly important barrier to collaboration: because of workers’ relatively low remuneration and high levels of work stress, the turnover rates are high. The consequence of this is as follows: The other barrier from my point is that you’re talking to somebody about a student “at-risk”, and within 14 months or 18 months a new person comes in [to that position] then you’ve got to start again. This way you miss a lot of information [which could be beneficial for the youth]. Conclusion The Privacy Act creates a dilemma in that it can be either beneficial or counter-productive for a student’s security. To be blunt, a youth who has suicided might have had their privacy protected, but not their life. Lack of funding can also be a constraint on collaboration by undermining stability and autonomy in the workforce, and blocking inter-agency initiatives. Lack of awareness about cultural differences can also affect unity of action. The deepening inequality between the “haves” and “have-nots” in the Australian society, and the Howard government’s harshness on national security issues, can also pose barriers to collaboration on youth issues. Despite these exigencies and dilemmas, it would seem that collaboration is “the only game” when it comes to helping students “at-risk”. To enhance this collaboration, there needs to be a sensible modification of legal restrictions to information sharing, an increase in government funding and support for inter-agency cooperation and informal information sharing, and an increased awareness about the cultural needs of minority groups and knowledge of the mainstream underclass. Acknowledgments The research is part of a major Australian Research Council (ARC) funded project, Smart Communities. The authors very gratefully acknowledge the contribution of the interviewees, and thank *Donald E. Scott for conducting the interviews. References Australian Bureau of Statistics. 1996 and 2001. Balnaves, Mark, and Joe Luca. “The Impact of Digital Persona on the Future of Learning: A Case Study on Digital Repositories and the Sharing of Information about Children At-Risk in Western Australia”, paper presented at Ascilite, Brisbane (2005): 49-56. 10 April 2006. http://www.ascilite.org.au/conferences/brisbane05/blogs/proceedings/ 06_Balnaves.pdf>. Dreher, Tanya. ‘Targeted’: Experiences of Racism in NSW after September 11, 2001. Sydney: University of Technology, 2005. Elliot-Farrelly, Terri. “Australian Aboriginal Suicide: The Need for an Aboriginal Suicidology”? Australian e-Journal for the Advancement of Mental Health, 3.3 (2004): 1-8. 15 April 2006 http://www.auseinet.com/journal/vol3iss3/elliottfarrelly.pdf>. Farmer, James. A. High-Risk Teenagers: Real Cases and Interception Strategies with Resistant Adolescents. Springfield, Ill.: C.C. Thomas, 1990. Ferguson, Harry. Protecting Children in Time: Child Abuse, Child Protection and the Consequences of Modernity. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004. Foucault, Michel. Power/Knowledge: Selected Interviews and Other Writings, 1972-1977. Ed. Colin Gordon, trans. Colin Gordon et al. New York: Pantheon, 1980. Kabir, Nahid. Muslims in Australia: Immigration, Race Relations and Cultural History. London: Kegan Paul, 2005. Rouf, Khadji. “Myself in Echoes. My Voice in Song.” Ed. A. Bannister, et al. Listening to Children. London: Longman, 1990. Scott E. Donald. “Exploring Communication Patterns within and across a School and Associated Agencies to Increase the Effectiveness of Service to At-Risk Individuals.” MS Thesis, Curtin University of Technology, August 2005. The Age. “Investing in People Means Investing in the Future.” The Age 5 March, 2005. 15 April 2006 http://www.theage.com.au>. Watson, Malcolm, et al. “Pathways to Aggression in Children and Adolescents.” Harvard Educational Review, 74.4 (Winter 2004): 404-428. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Kabir, Nahid, and Mark Balnaves. "Students “at Risk”: Dilemmas of Collaboration." M/C Journal 9.2 (2006). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0605/04-kabirbalnaves.php>. APA Style Kabir, N., and M. Balnaves. (May 2006) "Students “at Risk”: Dilemmas of Collaboration," M/C Journal, 9(2). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0605/04-kabirbalnaves.php>.

Introduction Utopia has always been countercultural, and ever since technological progress has allowed, utopia has been using alternative media to promote and strengthen its underpinning ideals. In this article, I am seeking to clarify the connections between counterculture and alternative media in utopian contexts to demonstrate their reciprocity, then draw together these threads through reference to a well-known figure of the Rainbow Region–Rusty Miller. His trajectory from iconic surfer and Aquarian reporter to mediator for utopian politics and ideals in the Rainbow Region encompasses in a single identity the three elements underpinning this study. In concluding, I will turn to Rusty’s Byron Guide, questioning its classification as alternative or mainstream media, and whether Byron Bay is represented as countercultural and utopian in this long-running and ongoing publication. Counterculture and Alternative Media in Utopian Contexts Counterculture is an umbrella that enfolds utopia, among many other genres and practices. It has been most often situated in the 1960s and 1970s as a new form of social movement embodying youth resistance to the technocratic mainstream and its norms of gender, sexuality, politics, music, and language (Roszak). Many scholars of counterculture underscore its utopian impulses both in the projection of better societies where the social goals are achieved, and in the withdrawal from mainstream society into intentional communities (Yinger 194-6; McKay 5; Berger). Before exploring further the connections between counterculture and alternative media, I want to define the scope of countercultural utopian contexts in general, and the Rainbow Region in particular. Utopia is a neologism created by Sir Thomas More almost 500 years ago to designate the island community that demonstrates order, harmony, justice, hope and desire in the right balance so that it seems like an ideal land. This imaginary place described in Utopia (1516) as a counterpoint to the social, political and religious shortcomings of contemporary 16th century British society, has attracted accusations of heresy (Molner), and been used as a pejorative term, an insult to denigrate political projects that seem farfetched or subversive, especially during the 19th century. Almost every study of utopian theory, literature and practice points to a dissatisfaction with the status quo, which inspires writers, politicians, architects, artists, individuals and communities to rail against it (see for example Davis, Moylan, Suvin, Levitas, Jameson). Kingsley Widmer’s book Counterings: Utopian Dialectics in Contemporary Contexts reiterates what many scholars have stated when he writes that utopias should be understood in terms of what they are countering. Lyman Tower Sargent defines utopia as “a non-existent society described in considerable detail and normally located in time and space” and utopianism as “social dreaming” (9), to which I would add that both indicate an improvement on the alternatives, and may indeed be striving to represent the best place imaginable. Utopian contexts, by extension, are those situations where the “social dreaming” is enhanced through human agency, good governance, just laws, education, and work, rather than being a divinely ordained state of nature (Schaer et al). In this way, utopian contexts are explicitly countercultural through their very conception, as human agency is required and their emphasis is on social change. These modes of resistance against dominant paradigms are most evident in attempts to realise textual projections of a better society in countercultural communal experiments. Almost immediately after its publication, More’s Utopia became the model for Bishop Vasco de Quiroga’s communitarian hospital-town Santa Fe de la Laguna in Michoacan, Mexico, established in the 1530s as a counterculture to the oppressive enslavement and massacres of the Purhépecha people by Nuno Guzmán (Green). The countercultural thrust of the 1960s and 1970s provided many utopian contexts, perhaps most readily identifiable as the intentional communities that spawned and flourished, especially in the United States, the United Kingdom, Australia, and New Zealand (Metcalf, Shared Lives). They were often inspired by texts such as Charles A. Reich’s The Greening of America (1970) and Ernest Callenbach’s Ecotopia (1975), and this convergence of textual practices and alternative lifestyles can be seen in the development of Australia’s own Rainbow Region. Located in northern New South Wales, the geographical area of the Northern Rivers that has come to be known as the Rainbow Region encompasses Byron Bay, Nimbin, Mullumbimby, Bangalow, Clunes, Dunoon, Federal, with Lismore as the region’s largest town. But more evocative than these place names are the “rivers and creeks, vivid green hills, fruit and nut farms […] bounded by subtropical beaches and rainforest mountains” (Wilson 1). Utopian by nature, and recognised as such by the indigenous Bundjalung people who inhabited it before the white settlers, whalers and dairy farmers moved in, the Rainbow Region became utopian through culture–or indeed counterculture–during the 1973 Aquarius Festival in Nimbin when the hippies of Mullumbimby and the surfers of Byron Bay were joined by up to 10,000 people seeking alternative ways of being in the world. When the party was over, many Aquarians stayed on to form intentional communities in the beautiful region, like Tuntable Falls, Nimbin’s first and largest such cooperative (Metcalf, From Utopian Dreaming to Communal Reality 74-83). In utopian contexts, from the Renaissance to the 1970s and beyond, counterculture has underpinned and alternative media has circulated the aims and ideals of the communities of resistance. The early utopian context of the Anabaptist movement has been dubbed as countercultural by Sigrun Haude: “During the reign of the Münster (1534-5) Anabaptists erected not only a religious but also a social and political counterculture to the existing order” (240). And it was this Protestant Reformation that John Downing calls the first real media war, with conflicting movements using pamphlets produced on the new technology of the Gutenberg press to disseminate their ideas (144). What is striking here is the confluence of ideas and practices at this time–countercultural ideals are articulated, published, and disseminated, printing presses make this possible, and utopian activists realise how mass media can be used and abused, exploited and censored. Twentieth century countercultural movements drew on the lessons learnt from historical uprising and revolutions, understanding the importance of getting the word out through their own forms of media which, given the subversive nature of the messages, were essentially alternative, according to the criteria proposed by Chris Atton: alternative media may be understood as a radical challenge to the professionalized and institutionalized practices of the mainstream media. Alternative media privileges a journalism that is closely wedded to notions of social responsibility, replacing an ideology of “objectivity” with overt advocacy and oppositional practices. Its practices emphasize first person, eyewitness accounts by participants; a reworking of the populist approaches of tabloid newspapers to recover a “radical popular” style of reporting; collective and antihierarchical forms of organization which eschew demarcation and specialization–and which importantly suggest an inclusive, radical form of civic journalism. (267) Nick Couldry goes further to point out the utopian processes required to identify agencies of change, including alternative media, which he defines as “practices of symbolic production which contest (in some way) media power itself–that is, the concentration of symbolic power in media institutions” (25). Alternative media’s orientation towards oppositional and contestatory practices demonstrates clear parallels between its ambitions and those of counterculture in utopian contexts. From the 1960s onwards, the upsurge in alternative newspaper numbers is commensurate with the blossoming of the counterculture and increased utopian contexts; Susan Forde describes it thus: “a huge resurgence in the popularity of publications throughout the ‘counter-culture’ days of the 1960s and 1970s” (“Monitoring the Establishment”, 114). The nexus of counterculture and alternative media in such utopian contexts is documented in texts like Roger Streitmatter’s Voices of Revolution and Bob Osterlag’s People’s Movements, People’s Press. Like the utopian newspapers that came out of 18th and 19th century intentional communities, many of the new alternative press served to educate, socialise, promote and represent the special interests of the founders and followers of the countercultural movements, often focusing on the philosophy and ideals underpinning these communities rather than the everyday events (see also Frobert). The radical press in Australia was also gaining ground, with OZ in Australia from 1963-1969, and then from 1967-1973 in London. Magazines launched by Philip Frazer like The Digger, Go-Set, Revolution and High Times, and university student newspapers were the main avenues for youth and alternative expression on the Vietnam war and conscription, gay and lesbian rights, racism, feminism and ecological activism (Forde, Challenging the News; Cock & Perry). Nimbin 1973: Rusty Miller and The Byron Express The 1973 Aquarius Festival of counterculture in Nimbin (12-23 May) was a utopian context that had an alternative media life of its own before it arrived in the Rainbow Region–in student publications like Tharnuka and newsletters distributed via the Aquarius Foundation. There were other voices that announced the coming of the Aquarius Festival to Nimbin and reported on its impact, like The Digger from Melbourne and the local paper, The Northern Star. During the Festival, the Nimbin Good Times first appeared as the daily bulletin and continues today with the original masthead drawn by the Festival’s co-organiser, Graeme Dunstan. Some interesting work has been done on this area, ranging from general studies of the Rainbow Region (Wilson; Munro-Clark) to articles analysing its alternative press (Ward & van Vuuren; Martin & Ellis), but to date, there has been no focus on the Rainbow Region’s first alternative newspaper, The Byron Express. Co-edited by Rusty Miller and David Guthrie, this paper presented and mediated the aims and desires of the Aquarian movement. Though short-lived, as only 7 issues were published from 15 February 1973 to September 1973, The Byron Express left a permanent printed vestige of the Aquarian counterculture movement’s activism and ideals from an independent regional perspective. Miller’s credentials for starting up the newspaper are clear–he has always been a trailblazer, mixing “smarts” with surfing and environmental politics. After graduating from a Bachelor of Arts in history from San Diego State College, he first set foot in Byron Bay during his two semesters with the inaugural Chapman College affiliated University of the Seven Seas in 1965-6. Returning to his hometown of Encinitas, he co-founded the Surf Research accessory company with legendary Californian surfer Mike Doyle, and launched Waxmate, the first specially formulated surf wax in 1967 (Davis, Witzig & James; Warshaw 217), selling his interest in the business soon after to spend a couple of years “living the counterculture life on the Hawaiian Island of Kauai” (Davis, Witzig & James), before heading back to Byron Bay via Bells Beach in 1970 (Miller & Shantz) and Sydney, where he worked as an advertising salesman and writer with Tracks surfing magazine (Martin & Ellis). In 1971, he was one of the first to ride the now famous waves of Uluwatu in Bali, and is captured with Steven Cooney in the iconic publicity image for Albe Falzon’s 1971 film, Morning Of The Earth. The champion surfer from the US knew a thing or two about counterculture, alternative media, advertising and business when he found his new utopian context in Byron Bay. Miller and Guthrie’s front-page editorial of the inaugural issue of The Byron Express, published on 15 February 1973, with the byline “for a higher shire”, expressed the countercultural (cl)aims of the publication. Land use, property development and the lack of concern that some people in Byron had for their impact on the environment and people of the region were a prime target: With this first issue of the Byron Express, we hope to explain that the area is badly in need of a focal point. The transitions of present are vast and moving fast. The land is being sold and resold. Lots of money is coming into the area in the way of developments […] caravan parts, hotels, businesses and real estate. Many of the trips incoming are not exactly “concerned” as to what long term effect such developments might have on the environment and its people. We hope to serve as a focus of concern and service, a centre for expression and reflection. We would ask your contributions in vocal and written form. We are ready for some sock it to ya criticism… and hope you would grab us upon the street to tell us how you feel…The mission of this alternative newspaper is thereby defined by the need for a “focal point” that inscribes the voices of the community in a freely accessible narrative, recorded in print for posterity. Although this first issue contains no mention of the Aquarius Festival, there were already rumours circulating about it, as organisers Graeme Dunstan and Johnny Allen had been up to Main Arm, Mullumbimby and Nimbin on reconnaissance missions beginning in September 1972. Instead, there was an article on “Mullumbimby Man–Close to the Land” by Nicholas Shand, who would go on to found the community-based weekly newspaper The Echo in 1986, then called The Brunswick Valley Echo and still going strong. Another by Bob McTavish asked whether there could be a better form of government; there was a surf story, and a soul food section with a recipe for honey meade entitled “Do you want to get out of it on 10 cents a bottle?” The second issue continues in much the same vein. It is not until the third issue comes out on 17 March 1973 that the Aquarius Festival is mentioned in a skinny half column on page four. And it’s not particularly promising: Arrived at Nimbin, sleepy hamlet… Office in disused R.S.L. rooms, met a couple of guys recently arrived, said nothing was being done. “Only women here, you know–no drive”. Met Joanne and Vi, both unable to say anything to be reported… Graham Dunstan (codenamed Superfest) and John Allen nowhere in sight. Allen off on trip overseas. Dunstan due back in a couple of weeks. 10 weeks to go till “they” all come… and to what… nobody is quite sure. This progress report provides a fascinating contemporary insight into the tensions–between the local surfies and hippies on one hand, and the incoming students on the other–around the organisation of the Aquarius Festival. There is an unbridled barb at the sexist comments made by the guys, implicit criticism of the absent organisers, obvious skepticism about whether anyone will actually come to the festival, and wonderment at what it will be like. Reading between the lines, we might find a feeling of resentment about not being privy to new developments in their own backyard. The final lines of the article are non-committal “Anyway, let’s see what eventuates when the Chiefs return.” It seems that all has been resolved by the fifth issue of 11 May, which is almost entirely dedicated to the Aquarius Festival with the front page headline “Welcome to the New Age”. But there is still an undertone of slight suspicion at what the newcomers to the area might mean in terms of property development: The goal is improving your fellow man’s mind and nourishment in concert with your own; competition to improve your day and the quality of the day for society. Meanwhile, what is the first thing one thinks about when he enters Byron and the area? The physical environment is so magnificent and all encompassing that it can actually hold a man’s breath back a few seconds. Then a man says, “Wow, this land is so beautiful that one could make a quid here.” And from that moment the natural aura and spells are broken and the mind lapses into speculative equations, sales projections and future interest payments. There is plenty of “love” though, in this article: “The gathering at Nimbin is the most spectacular demonstration of the faith people have in a belief that is possible (and possible just because they want it to be) to live in love, through love together.” The following article signed by Rusty Miller “A Town Together” is equally focused on love: “See what you could offer the spirit at Nimbin. It might introduce you to a style that could lead to LOVE.” The centre spread features photos: the obligatory nudes, tents, and back to nature activities, like planting and woodworking. With a text box of “random comments” including one from a Lismore executive: ‘I took my wife and kids out there last weekend and we had such a good time. Seems pretty organized and the town was loaded with love. Heard there is some hepatitis about and rumours of VD. Everyone happy.” And another from a land speculator (surely the prime target of Miller’s wrath): “Saw guys kissing girls on the street, so sweet, bought 200 acres right outside of town, it’s going to be valuable out there some day.” The interview with Johnny Allen as the centrepiece includes some pertinent commentary on the media and reveals a well-founded suspicion of the mediatisation of the Aquarius Festival: We have tried to avoid the media actually. But we haven’t succeeded in doing so. Part of the basic idea is that we don’t need to be sold. All the down town press can do is try and interpret you. And by doing that it automatically places it in the wrong sort of context. So we’ve tried to keep it to people writing about the festival to people who will be involved in it. It’s an involvement festival. Coopting The Byron Express as an “involved” party effects a fundamental shift from an external reporting newspaper to a kind of proponent or even propaganda for the Aquarius festival and its ideas, like so many utopian newspapers had done before. It is therefore perhaps inevitable that The Byron Express should disappear very soon after the Aquarius festival. Fiona Martin and Rhonda Ellis explain that Rusty Miller stopped producing the paper because he “found the production schedule exhausting and his readership too small to attract consistent advertising” (5). At any rate, there were only two more issues, one in June–with some follow up reporting of the festival–and another in September 1973, which was almost entirely devoted to environmentally focused features, including an interview with Kath Walker (Oodgeroo Noonuccal). Byron Bay 2013: Thirty Years of Rusty’s Byron Guide What Rusty did next is fairly well known locally–surfing and teaching people how to surf and a bit of writing. When major local employer Walkers slaughterhouse closed in 1983, he and his wife, social geographer Tricia Shantz, were asked by the local council to help promote Byron Bay as a tourist destination, writing the first Byron guide in 1983-4. Incorporating essays by local personalities and dedicated visitors, the Byron guide perpetuates the ideal of environmental awareness, spiritual experimentation, and respect for the land and sea. Recent contributors have included philosopher Peter Singer, political journalist Kerry O’Brien, and writer John Ralston Saul, and Miller and Shantz always have an essay in there themselves. “People, Politics and Culture” is the new byline for the 2013 edition. And Miller’s opening essay mediates the same utopian desires and environmental community messages that he espoused from the beginning of The Byron Express: The name Byron Bay represents something that we constantly try to articulate. If one was to dream up a menu of situations and conditions to compose a utopia, Australia would be the model of the nation-state and Byron would have many elements of the actual place one might wish to live for the rest of their lives. But of course there is always the danger of excesses in tropical paradises especially when they become famous destinations. Australia is being held to ransom for the ideology that we should be slaves to money and growth at the cost of a degraded and polluted physical and social environment. Byron at least was/is a refuge against this profusion of the so-called real-world perception that holds profit over environment as the way we must choose for our future. Even when writing for a much more commercial medium, Miller retains the countercultural utopian spirit that was crystallised in the Aquarius festival of 1973, and which remains relevant to many of those living in and visiting the Rainbow Region. Miller’s ethos moves beyond the alternative movements and communities to infiltrate travel writing and tourism initiatives in the area today, as evidenced in the Rusty’s Byron Guide essays. By presenting more radical discourses for a mainstream public, Miller together with Shantz have built on the participatory role that he played in launching the region’s first alternative newspaper in 1973 that became albeit briefly the equivalent of a countercultural utopian gazette. Now, he and Shantz effectively play the same role, producing a kind of countercultural form of utopian media for Byron Bay that corresponds to exactly the same criteria mentioned above. Through their free publication, they aim to educate, socialise, promote and represent the special interests of the founders and followers of the Rainbow Region, focusing on the philosophy and ideals underpinning these communities rather than the everyday events. The Byron Bay that Miller and Shantz promote is resolutely utopian, and certainly countercultural if compared to other free publications like The Book, a new shopping guide, or mainstream media elsewhere. Despite this new competition, they are planning the next edition for 2015 with essays to make people think, talk, and understand the region’s issues, so perhaps the counterculture is still holding its own against the mainstream. References Atton, Chris. “What Is ‘Alternative’ Journalism?” Journalism: Theory, Practice, Criticism 4.3 (2003): 267-72. Berger, Bennett M. The Survival of a Counterculture: Ideological Work and Everyday Life among Rural Communards. New Brunswick: Transaction Publishers, 2004. Cock, Peter H., & Paul F. Perry. “Australia's Alternative Media.” Media Information Australia 6 (1977): 4-13. Couldry, Nick. “Mediation and Alternative Media, or Relocating the Centre of Media and Communication Studies.” Media International Australia, Incorporating Culture & Policy 103, (2002): 24-31. Davis, Dale, John Witzig & Don James. “Rusty Miller.” Encyclopedia of Surfing. 10 Nov. 2014 ‹http://encyclopediaofsurfing.com/entries/miller-rusty›. Downing, John. Radical Media: Rebellious Communication and Social Movements. Thousand Oaks: Sage. Davis, J.C. Utopia and the Ideal Society: A Study of English Utopian Writing 1516-1700. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1983. Forde, Susan. Challenging the News: The Journalism of Alternative and Independent Media. Palgrave Macmillan: London, 2011. ---. “Monitoring the Establishment: The Development of the Alternative Press in Australia” Media International Australia, Incorporating Culture & Policy 87 (May 1998): 114-133. Frobert, Lucien. “French Utopian Socialists as the First Pioneers in Development.” Cambridge Journal of Economics 35 (2011): 729-49. Green, Toby. Thomas More’s Magician: A Novel Account of Utopia in Mexico. London: Phoenix, 2004. Goffman, Ken, & Dan Joy. Counterculture through the Ages: From Abraham to Acid House. New York: Villard Books. 2004. Haude, Sigrun. “Anabaptism.” The Reformation World. Ed. Andrew Pettegree. London: Routledge, 2000. 237-256. Jameson, Fredric. Archeologies of the Future: The Desire Called Utopia and Other Science Fictions. New York: Verso, 2005. Levitas, Ruth. Utopia as Method. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013. Martin, Fiona, & Rhonda Ellis. “Dropping In, Not Out: The Evolution of the Alternative Press in Byron Shire 1970-2001.” Transformations 2 (2002). 10 Nov. 2014 ‹http://www.transformationsjournal.org/journal/issue_02/pdf/MartinEllis.pdf›. McKay, George. Senseless Acts of Beauty: Cultures of Resistance since the Sixties. London: Verso, 1996. Metcalf, Bill. From Utopian Dreaming to Communal Reality: Cooperative Lifestyles in Australia. Sydney: University of New South Wales Press, 1995. ---. Shared Visions, Shared Lives: Communal Living around the Globe. Forres, UK: Findhorn Press, 1996. Miller, Rusty & Tricia Shantz. Turning Point: Surf Portraits and Stories from Bells to Byron 1970-1971. Surf Research. 2012. Molnar, Thomas. Utopia: The Perennial Heresy. London: Tom Stacey, 1972. Moylan, Tom. Demand the Impossible: Science Fiction and the Utopian Imagination. New York: Methuen, 1986. Munro-Clark, Margaret. Communes in Rural Australia: The Movement since 1970. Sydney: Hale & Iremonger, 1986. Osterlag, Bob. People’s Movements, People’s Press: The Journalism of Social Justice Movements. Boston: Beacon Press, 2006. Roszak, Theodore. The Making of a Counter Culture: Reflections on the Technocratic Society and Its Youthful Opposition. New York: Anchor, 1969. Sargent, Lyman Tower. “Three Faces of Utopianism Revisited.” Utopian Studies 5.1 (1994): 1-37. Schaer, Roland, Gregory Claeys, and Lyman Tower Sargent, eds. Utopia: The Search for the Ideal Society in the Western World. New York: New York Public Library/Oxford UP, 2000. Streitmatter, Roger. Voices of Revolution: The Dissident Press in America. Columbia: Columbia UP, 2001. Suvin, Darko. Metamorphoses of Science Fiction: On the Poetics and History of a Literary Genre. New Haven: Yale UP, 1979. Ward, Susan, & Kitty van Vuuren. “Belonging to the Rainbow Region: Place, Local Media, and the Construction of Civil and Moral Identities Strategic to Climate Change Adaptability.” Environmental Communication 7.1 (2013): 63-79. Warshaw, Matt. The History of Surfing. San Francisco: Chronicle Books, 2011. Wilson, Helen. (Ed.). Belonging in the Rainbow Region: Cultural Perspectives on the NSW North Coast. Lismore, NSW: Southern Cross University Press, 2003. Widmer, Kingsley. Counterings: Utopian Dialectics in Contemporary Contexts. Ann Arbor, London: UMI Research Press, 1988. Yinger, J. Milton. Countercultures: The Promise and Peril of a World Turned Upside Down. New York: The Free Press, 1982.

At the beginning of his recent collection of essays in queer studies, Jeffrey Escoffier makes the assertion at once portentous and banal that “the moment of acknowledging to oneself homosexual desires and feelings … and then licensing oneself to act ... is the central drama of the homosexual self.” That “moment of self-classification,” he explains, “is an emergency – sublime, horrible, wonderful – in the life of anyone who must confront it.” (1) In the theatre of my own biography, I am unsure how or when I first played out this epiphanic drama of queer self-acknowledgment, but I can vividly recall the first time someone else enacted it for me. In elementary school, at the age of ten, a fellow pupil cornered me in the school playground and announced with calculated precocity to anyone who cared to listen that I was, as he put it, “a homo.” Unlike some of my congregated peers whose chorus of “what’s a homo?” provoked a dizzying exchange of infantile misinformation, I was only too well aware of the term’s meaning and, shocked that my queerness should not only be revealed but also be so transparently legible that even a boorish bully might detect it, slid away in fearful embarrassment. What proved most unsettling to me, however, was that my nascent homosexuality should have been evidenced in this playground spectacle of queer exposure, not on the basis of same-sex desire but, rather, on that of passionate devotion to a woman. Earlier that day, our schoolteacher had directed us to write and then read aloud to the class a composition entitled, “My Hero.” Where most of my classmates wrote predictable tributes to normative role models of the time like Neil Armstrong, Greg Chappell, Muhammad Ali, and even Jesus Christ, I penned an effusive homage to, what I described in the essay as, that “radiant star of stage and screen, Miss Julie Andrews”. It was this profession of ardent affection for a female film star that led directly to my schoolyard outing. As my accuser put it when explicating the deductive rationale behind his sexual detection, “Only a homo would love Julie Andrews!” Even at age ten, the paradoxical (il)logic of this formulation was so glaring as to all but slap me hard across the face – an action transposed from the metaphoric to the literal by my playground adversary who, not content to let “the homo” escape too readily or lightly, pursued me across the schoolyard and pushed me face-first into the asphalt. How could my declaration of desire for a female star – which in strictly definitional terms should have seemed, if anything, eminently heterosexual – be taken so assuredly as a marker of homosexuality? Why and how could my loving Julie Andrews provoke such an explosive manifestation of juvenile homophobia? The answers to these questions were already known, if only intuitively and, thus, only partially, to the ten-year old me. Like many other elements of my childhood, my love for Julie Andrews formed part of what I was fast recognizing was an ever-expanding and ever-consolidating category of bad object-choices – a diverse array of cultural and social cathexes variously abjectified, proscribed or deemed otherwise inconsonant with dominant modes of sexual selfhood. Redefined as a symptom of sexual dissonance, my devotion to Andrews suddenly became a catalytic signifier of shame, a palpable marker of my failure to achieve heteronormality and, thus, another attachment to cache away in the cavernous closet of protogay childhood. That this scenario will sound instantly familiar to many is evidence of the extent to which a politics of shame is routinely mobilized – most potently, though by no means exclusively, in childhood – to stigmatize and thus discipline queer subjectivities. Much of the breathtaking success with which mainstream culture is able to install and mandate a heteronormative economy depends directly on its ability to foster a correlative economy of queer shame through which to disgrace and thus delegitimate all that falls outside the narrow purview of straight sexualities. Not that such processes of juridical stigmatization are necessarily successful. Shameful and shameless are, after all, but a suffix apart and a good deal of the productivity of queer cultures – as of queer lives – resides precisely in the extraordinary capacity they obtain for not only clinging stubbornly and defiantly to the outlawed objects of their desire but investing these objects with a near-inexhaustible source of vitalizing energy. The scene of my schoolyard shaming may have effected a public occlusion of my love for Julie Andrews, but it in no way quelled or attenuated that love. Indeed, transformed into a sign of my developing homosexuality, my attachment to Andrews became more than ever an integral component of my subjectivity and an indefatigable resource for survival in the face of what I perceived to be an unaccommodating social world. Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick dubs these survivalist dynamics of queer culture “reparative” in the sense given the term by object-relations theory as an affirmative impulse to repair or make good the losses of subjective constitution. Unlike the competing paranoid positionality which in object-relations theory is understood to fracture the world into colliding part-objects and is marked by “hatred, envy, and anxiety”, the reparative dynamic is marked by love and seeks to reassemble or repair the subject’s world into “something like a whole” that is “available both to be identified with and to offer one nourishment and comfort in turn.” (Sedgwick, 8) For Sedgwick, this idea of a reparative impulse speaks powerfully to the inventive and obstinate ways in which queer subjects negotiate spaces of self-affirmation in the face of a hostile environment, or as she evocatively puts it, the ways in which queer “selves and communities succeed in extracting sustenance from ... a culture whose avowed desire has often been not to sustain them.” (35) As a paradigmatic example of and governing trope for this reparative tradition of queer survivalism, Sedgwick offers, significantly for my purposes, the image of the proto-queer child or adolescent ardently (over)attached to a cultural text or object, passionately investing that text or object with almost talismanic properties to repair or make good a damaged socius . “Such a child,” she writes, “is reading for important news about herself, [even] without knowing what form that news will take; with only the patchiest familiarity with its codes; without, even, more than hungrily hypothesizing to what questions this news may proffer an answer.” (2-3) This characterization of a reparatively positioned proto-queer reader resonates profoundly with my own fiercely loving attachments to Julie Andrews. Much of the energy of these attachments – certainly in childhood and, perhaps less urgently but no less decisively, in adulthood – springs directly from the reparative performances to which this particular star has been cast in the playhouse of my own imaginary. To wit: a cherished ritual from childhood. In the days when I was growing up, the days before VCRs and cable television, my Andrews fandom was of necessity organized not so much around her film texts as around her recordings. While I had seen her films and these were vital, generative sites for my fan passions, the primary focus for those passions – where they were practised, indulged, nurtured – was her vocal recordings. On long, listless afternoons, returned home from school, I would rush to the living room, position myself firmly in front of the family hi-fi and blissfully listen my way through my expansive collection of Julie Andrews LPs. My favourite, without doubt, was the soundtrack recording for The Sound of Music, which I would play and replay for hours on end. I can still recall the palpable sense of breathless anticipation when, unsheathed from its cover and reverently placed on the turntable, the disc would crackle to life. A whispering breath of wind, an echo of birdsong, a rapid swell of violins, and Julie’s inimitable voice would break forth in fortissimo triumph, leaping through the speakers and enveloping the room with melodic abundance. To augment the sense of excitement, I would, while listening, gaze intently at the record cover with its celebrated image of Julie leaping in mid-flight like a preternatural oread, her skirt billowing up with carefree delight, arms swinging open in joyous welcome, effortlessly holding aloft a guitar case and a travelling bag, twin symbols of musical expressivity and liberating escape. Projecting myself into the scene, I would twirl with Julie in imaginary freedom, riding the crest of her crystalline voice in rapturous transport from the suburban mundanity of family, school, and straightness. Invested with the attentive love and astonishing creativity of juvenile fandom, Andrews provided not just the promissory vision of a life different from and infinitely freer than the one I knew, but the fantasmatic means through which to achieve and sustain this process of transcendence. If I loved Julie Andrews as a child it was because that love functioned as a process through which to resist and transfigure the oppressive banalities of the heteronormative everyday. Though unaware of it at the time, my childhood mobilization of a female star as a vehicle of, and for, quotidian transcendence has a long and rich pedigree in queer cultures, especially gay male cultures. From the enthusiasms of the nineteenth century dandies for operatic primi donne and the fervent gay cult followings in the mid-twentieth century of Hollywood stars such as Judy Garland and Bette Davis, to contemporary queer celebrations of dancefloor goddesses, diva worship has been a staple of gay male cultural production where it has sustained a spectacularly diverse array of insistently queer pleasures. While loath to generalize its heterogeneous functions and values, I submit that much of the enduring vitality of diva worship in gay male cultures resides in the commodious scope it affords for reparative cultural labour. Indeed, most critical discussions of gay diva worship posit in some fashion that gay men engage divas as imaginary figures of therapeutic empowerment. “At the very heart of gay diva worship”, opines Daniel Harris, is “the almost universal homosexual experience of ostracism and insecurity” and the desire to “elevate [one]self above [one’s] antagonistic surroundings.” (Harris, 10) Wayne Koestenbaum similarly claims that "gay culture has perfected the art of mimicking a diva – of pretending, inside, to be divine – to help the stigmatized self imagine it is received, believed, and adored." (Koestenbaum, 133) Tuned to the chord of reparative amelioration, diva worship emerges here as a vital practice of affective queer enfranchisement: the restoration of a functional selfhood and the provision of emotional resources through which to transcend – and survive – the often violent deformations of a heteronormative world. That such processes of male homosexual affirmation should be articulated through ardent devotion to a woman might seem a strange paradox. But just as love and sex are never inevitable correspondents, the presence of a heterosexual passion inscribed at the very heart of gay male culture by its long histories of diva worship is a sure – and welcome – sign of the irrepressible waywardness of desire and its stubborn refusal to fit the impoverished scripts that we nominate sexuality. Works Cited Escoffier, Jeffrey. American Homo: Community and Perversity. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998. Harris, Daniel. The Rise and Fall of Gay Culture. New York: Hyperion, 1997. Koestenbaum, Wayne. The Queen's Throat: Opera, Homosexuality, and the Mystery of Desire. New York: Poseidon Press, 1993. Sedgwick, Eve Kosofsky. “Paranoid Reading and Reparative Reading; or, You’re So Paranoid, You Probably Think This Introduction Is About You.” Novel Gazing: Queer Readings in Fiction. Durham: Duke University Press, 1997. Citation reference for this article Substitute your date of access for Dn Month Year etc... MLA Style Farmer, Brett. "Loving Julie Andrews" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5.6 (2002). Dn Month Year < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0211/lovingjulie.php>. APA Style Farmer, B., (2002, Nov 20). Loving Julie Andrews. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture, 5,(6). Retrieved Month Dn, Year, from http://www.media-culture.org.au/0211/lovingjulie.html

Postmodernity, as is its wont, conjures up new ways of thinking about everything, and it is no different with ideas about space. One such analysis is the idea of 'heterotopias'. Published in the French journal Architecture-Mouvement-Continuité under the title 'Des Espaces Autres', and subsequently published in English as 'Of Other Spaces' in 1986 was an essay written by Michel Foucault in the mid-sixties (see Soja). In it, he coined the notion of heterotopias -- 'absolutely Other and differentiated social Spaces'. The ideas he presented formed the basis of contemporary writings on the nature of space -- with many authors using it as a way into examining 'postmodern spacings'. Given that the Internet may be the archetypical postmodern space, how useful then is the idea of heterotopias in considering cyberspace? In his essay, Foucault contrasted his notion of Utopias -- idealised conceptions of society, impossible to locate in reality -- with the idea of heterotopias. These, he suggested, were Other spaces; socially constructed counter-sites: There also exist, and this is probably true for all cultures and all civilisations, real and effective spaces which are outlined in the very institution of society, but which constitute a sort of counter-arrangement, of effectively realised utopia, in which all the real arrangements, all the other real arrangements that can be found within society, are at one and the same time represented, challenged and overturned: a sort of place that lies outside all places and yet is actually localizable. (Foucault 351) Foucault went on to present examples of heterotopias, and a set of principles which govern their existence; a kind of heterotopology. He suggested that every human culture is made up of heterotopias and in their description persists implicit social, moral and political oppositions such as private/public or pleasure/work. He initially generalised two types of heterotopia. There are heterotopias of crisis, such as the boarding school or military service, where young men were banished to experience their initial adolescent sexuality. And heterotopias of deviance, such as rest homes, clinics and prisons where those considered abnormal could be spatially isolated. Foucault also suggested that society can reshape existing heterotopias, so that they function in very different ways. The cemetery, for example, has changed from being a place of little importance, to one that is revered -- as western atheism has placed more emphasis on the dead body in contrast to older religious societies, whose understanding encompassed ideas of resurrection, and de-emphasised the physical container. Similarly, a heterotopia can juxtapose several contradictory spaces in a single real place. Such a place is the cinema, where many social spaces exist in the one physical location -- the two-dimensional screen projecting a three-dimensional space for the pleasure of a real life audience. Of course, heterotopias have a relationship to time. Places like museums and fairs can be defined by their respective biases towards chronology. A museum leans towards the eternal, a fair towards the transitory. As well, heterotopias contain within their spaces a system of opening and closing that isolates them -- and excludes those without the necessary permission to enter. Or only accepts those who have been forced into its confines. Finally, heterotopias have a function which places them between opposite poles. They create "a space of illusion that reveals how all of space is more illusory". And they form a space of compensation -- one that contrasts the utopias that otherwise exist. To Foucault then, heterotopias are conceived as socially defined spaces that embrace material and immaterial, and yet are located outside of all other places -- even though it may be possible to indicate their position 'in reality'. Indeed, his most concrete example may in fact be that of the boat, a floating space searching for new colonies -- themselves imagined heterotopias that represent most clearly the Other. With that example in mind, we can briefly explore the idea of framing the Internet as a heterotopic space. If we take as a given that the new communications and computing technologies have resulted in the formation of new social spaces, it is a relatively straightforward task to map this so-called cyberspace as a heterotopia. Some, such as McKenzie Wark, have done just that. Without holding cyberspace up to each heterotopic principle in detail, it is apparent that, at first blush, cyberspace contradicts none of the previously described Foucauldian principles. Cyberspace handily embraces notions of the other, limits access and presents contradictions of purpose, illusion, the imagination and deviancy. The romantic ideal of cyberspace as the Other World, conjured up in countless science fiction novels and articles in the popular press seems to confirm its heterotopic status. On closer inspection though, some (none too) subtleties emerge. Initially, cyberspace should not be thought of as a single space. Whilst the network is a kind of malleable, expandable, linked unity, the actual social spaces that result from its amorphous being are many in number and vary in both quantity and quality. The early cyberspatial constructs range from sex-based chat-rooms to commodified digital libraries and embrace almost every spatial possibility in between. Thus, not only can cyberspace as a whole be considered a heterotopia, but within cyberspace itself there must exist heterotopias -- and indeed utopias. Within this larger 'other' space, there must be a mosaic of normality and deviance, imagined and real, juxtaposed and otherwise, that reflects the social relations emerging in cyberspace. Within the colony of the Internet, there is an emerging complexity still to be explored. More widely though, the very idea of heterotopias suggests a problem with the definition of 'other'. Foucault's initial contrast between utopia and heterotopia was not particularly detailed and provided few clues as to how to locate the essence of difference. Whilst it is tempting to use the term 'heterotopia' as a catchcry for new conceptions of spatialisation, as a kind of postmodern reframing of space embracing generic notions of 'Other', it is perhaps a simplistic approach that produces little. As Benjamin Genocchio points out, "scouring the absolute limits of imagination, the question then becomes: what cannot be designated a heterotopia? It follows that the bulk of these uncritical applications of the term as a discontinuous space of impartial/resistant use must be viewed as problematic" (40). Or in this context, bluntly, what can be gained from suggesting that cyberspace is a heterotopia -- or even a heterotopic set? The key lies perhaps in Foucault's final principle of heterotopia: Finally, the last characteristic of heterotopias is that they have, in relation to the rest of space, a function that takes place between two opposite poles. On the one hand they perform the task of creating a space of illusion that reveals how all of space is more illusory, all the locations within which life is fragmented. On the other, they have the function of forming another space, another real space, as perfect, meticulous and well-arranged as ours is disordered, ill-conceived and in a sketchy state. This heterotopia is not one of illusion but of compensation, and I wonder if it is not somewhat in this manner that certain colonies have functioned. (Foucault 356) The suggestion here is that a heterotopian framing for an observation of cyberspace can be valuable. For example, the character of cyberspace -- the different social and individual constructs that are becoming visible in the so-called virtual communities -- forces us to reflect upon the other spaces that exist in our societies. The nature of the new spaces gives us overt clues as to the construction of our existing societies. Further, cyberspace is a new space -- a compensatory space, which exists in contrast to that initial reflective realm. Moreover, this particular new space has characteristics that allow it new freedoms of construction. Its lack of material constraints give rise to new ideas about risk, consequence and relationship. The ease with which rules (expressed entirely in malleable software schemes) can be changed alters ideas of existing social mores. And there are myriad possibilities, both intended and accidental, which will unfold as the power of the new technologies becomes apparent. It is early days yet. If the history of the Internet is paralleled to that of the motorcar, we live in an era just before Henry Ford introduced the Model T. As the story of cyberspace unfolds, new spatial conceptions -- new heterotopias -- will emerge that give rise to different social possibilities. Perhaps this is the point of heterotopias. Not that they exist as a way of categorising, but that as a way of examining social spaces, they give rise to new discourses about what those spaces are, how they arise and what they may mean. New discourses about knowledge, power and society. Which ultimately are reflected in the constitution of our human relationships. Just as the colonisation of the new world eventually shattered established western social conventions and changed the shape of the western world, the settlement of cyberspace may do the same. References Foucault, Michel. "Of Other Spaces: Utopias and Heterotopias." Rethinking Architecture. Ed. Edmund Leach. London: Routledge, 1997. Genocchio, Benjamin. "Discourse, Discontinuity, Difference: The Question of 'Other' Spaces." Postmodern Cities and Spaces. Eds. Sophie Watson and Katherine Gibson. Cambridge: Blackwell, 1995. Soja, Edward. "Heterotopologies: A Remembrance of Other Spaces in the Citadel-LA." Postmodern Cities and Spaces. Eds. Sophie Watson and Katherine Gibson. Cambridge: Blackwell, 1995. Citation reference for this article MLA style: Sherman Young. "Of Cyber Spaces: The Internet & Heterotopias." M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 1.4 (1998). [your date of access] <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9811/hetero.php>. Chicago style: Sherman Young, "Of Cyber Spaces: The Internet & Heterotopias," M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 1, no. 4 (1998), <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9811/hetero.php> ([your date of access]). APA style: Sherman Young. (1998) Of cyber spaces: the Internet & heterotopias. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 1(4). <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9811/hetero.php> ([your date of access]).

The compulsion to work has clearly become pathological in modern industrial societies. Millions of people are working long hours, devoting their lives to making or doing things that will not enrich their lives or make them happier but will add to the garbage and pollution that the earth is finding difficult to accommodate. They are so busy doing this that they have little time to spend with their family and friends, to develop other aspects of themselves, to participate in their communities as full citizens. Unless the work/consume treadmill is overcome there is little hope for the planet. The work ethic, and the corresponding respect accorded to those who accumulate wealth, are socially constructed but rapidly becoming dysfunctional for social and environmental welfare. Much has been written about the role of Protestant preachers in the rise of the work ethic but the continued reinforcement of a secular work ethic owes much to literature, particularly self-help books and children's literature of the nineteenth century, which promoted work as a route to success and a sign of good character. In the centuries following the Protestant reformation the emphasis on work as a religious calling was gradually superseded by a materialistic quest for social mobility and material success. This success-oriented work ethic encouraged ambition, hard work, self-reliance, and self-discipline and held out the promise that such effort would be materially rewarded. Through example and reiteration, the myth that any man, no matter what his origins, could become rich if he tried hard enough became firmly established. The self-made man owed his advancement to habits of industry, sobriety, moderation, self-discipline, and avoidance of debt (Beder). In early America the middle classes "controlled the major institutions of social influence" the schools, churches, factories, political offices and publishing companies and used them to propagate work values (Cherrington 32-3). Their children learned the value of hard work from their parents and this was reinforced by school teachers, classroom readers and popular books. Benjamin Franklin was one of the best-known early propagators of work values. Poor Richard and Franklin's autobiography sold millions of copies at the time and was translated into many languages for sale abroad. In his books he urged thrift, industry, pursuit of money and hard work. "Newspapers, books, interviews, speeches, and literature abounded with praise of the successful who had made it on their own" (Bernstein 141). Success was defined in terms of doing well in business and making lots of money. Owning one's own business was supposed to be a route to success that was open to all, as Abraham Lincoln explained in an 1861 speech to Congress: "The prudent, penniless beginner in the world, labors for wages awhile, saves a surplus with which to buy tools or land for himself, then labors on his own account for awhile, and at length hires another new beginner to help him. This is a just, and generous, and prosperous system; which opens the way to all gives hope to all, and consequent energy and progress, and improvement of conditions to all." (qtd. in Chinoy 4) The earliest textbooks published in America promoted work values as part of good character and the formula to success. These included the Peter Parley books first published by Samuel Goodrich during the 1820s and 30s (Peter Parley was a pseudonym). Goodrich wrote some 150 children's books beginning with Tales of Peter Parley about America. The Parley books covered geography, history, commerce and even mathematics. McGuffey's Eclectic Readers were the standard English textbooks in American schools from 1830s through to 1920s. They were first published in 1836 and became perhaps the most widely read children's books in the 19th century with 122 million copies of the six readers sold to an estimated four fifths of US school children (Cherrington 36). American children learned to read and write using these books, which also taught middle-class values including the work ethic and success through hard work: "Work, work, my boy, be not afraid; Look labor boldly in the face" (qtd. in Bernstein 161). They are again being promoted today by conservative groups in the US (see for example http://www.liberty-tree.org/ltn/mcguffeys-reader.html and http://www.aobs-store.com/reviews/mcguffey.htm). American story books also taught work values. Horatio Alger (1832-99) was one of the most prolific American writers. He wrote some 130 books that taught work values to young boys. Twenty million copies of Alger's books were sold with titles such as Strive and Succeed, Ragged Dick, Mark the Matchboy, Risen from the Ranks, Bound to Rise. They typically told of poor boys who became self-made men through their own efforts and perseverance. In the twentieth century children continued to learn at school about how various successful businessmen had started from humble origins. From the 1940s the American Schools and Colleges Association presented an annual "Horatio Alger Award" to businessmen whose "rise to success symbolizes the tradition of starting from scratch under our system of free competitive enterprise" (Chinoy 1) and there are still a range of Alger associations and awards current today (see for example http://www.ihot.com/~has/ and http://www.horatioalger.com/). Self-help books supplemented fiction in showing the way to success. Books at the turn of the 20th century with names such as The Conquest of Poverty, Pushing to the Front, Success under Difficulty, all preached the message of how any motivated, hard-working individual could overcome life's obstacles. Work as a route to success was also promoted in Britain in books, newspapers and official reports. Workers were urged to work hard towards success, to be independent and raise themselves above their lowly stations in life through saving, striving, and industriousness. Nineteenth century organisations such as the Bettering Society promoted thrift and self-improvement and criticised measures to aid the poor (Roach 69). Samuel Smiles was one of the foremost advocates of "the spirit of self-help". His 1859 book Self-Help argued: "In many walks of life drudgery and toil must be cheerfully endured as the necessary discipline of life... He who allows his application to falter, or shirks his work on frivolous pretexts, is on the sure road to ultimate failure... even men with the commonest brains and the most slender powers will accomplish much..." (qtd. in Ward 22-3) The myth of the self-made man was also evident in popular music hall songs in the 19th century, such as Work Boys Work by Harry Clifton (1824-1872): ...labour leads to wealth and will keep you in good health, so its best to be contented with your lot. Whilst it was true that some of the early English manufacturers started off as workers themselves, they tended to come from the middle classes and as time went by the opportunity for working people to become capitalists were reduced as the income gap between capitalists and workers broadened. In fact the much publicised gospel of improvement and self-help served only to obscure the very limited prospects and achievements of the self-made men within early and later Victorian society, and investigations of the steel and hosiery industries, for instance, have shown how little recruitment occurred from the ranks of the workers to those of the entrepreneurs. (Thomis 86) However, there were enough oft-repeated stories of individuals moving from poverty to wealth to keep alive, at least in the minds of the well-to-do, the idea that hard work could lead from rags-to-riches, despite this not being the case for the vast majority of people who were born in poverty and died in poverty after a life time of hard work (Furnham 198). In this way the affluent were able to feel comfortable about poverty in their midst, blaming it on individual weakness rather than societal failings. In Britain, as in America, the myth of the self-made man persisted in children's literature into the twentieth century. Academic Philip Cohen noted: When I was growing up in the early 1950s it was still possible to get given 'improving books' for one's birthday, consisting of biographies of self-made men, engineers, inventors, industrialists, entrepreneurs, philanthropists and the like. These men, and they were all men, had usually lived in the 'heroic' age of nineteenth-century capitalism and the books themselves were clearly prepared for the edification of the young. (Cohen 61) The contemporary reception by audiences of the texts discussed in this article is unknown. In particular, the degree to which children were able to resist the none too subtle moral lessons contained in their texts and stories is a question requiring empirical research that has yet to be carried out. However, it is evident that the promotion of the work ethic has been a successful enterprise and this article has shown that 19thcentury books played an active part in that. Although not everyone subscribes to the work ethic today, the myth of the self-made man remains a myth in most English speaking countries, even though the disparities between rich and poor are widening and it is becoming more and more difficult for the poor to become rich through talent, effort and opportunities. Despite the dysfunctionality of the work ethic it continues to be promoted and praised, accepted and acquiesced to. It is one of the least challenged aspects of industrial culture. Yet it is based on myths and fallacies which provide legitimacy for gross social inequalities. If we are to protect the planet and our social health we need to find new ways of judging and valuing each other which are not work and income dependent. References Beder, Sharon. Selling the Work Ethic: From puritan pulpit to corporate PR. London: Zed Books, 2000. Bernstein, Paul. American Work Values: Their Origin and Development. Albany, NY: State U of New York P, 1997. Cherrington, David J. The Work Ethic: Working Values and Values that Work. New York: AMACON, 1980. Chinoy, Ely. Automobile Workers and the American Dream. 2nd ed. Urbana and Chicago: U of Illinois P, 1992. Cohen, Philip. "Teaching Enterprise Culture: Individualism, Vocationalism and the New Right." The Social Effects of Free Market Policies: An International Text. Ed. Ian Taylor. New York: Harvester Wheatsheaf, 1990. 49-91. Furnham, Adrian. The Protestant Work Ethic: The Psychology of Work-Related Beliefs and Behaviours. London: Routledge, 1990. Roach, John. Social Reform in England 1780-1880. London: B T. Batsford, 1978. Thomis, Malcolm I. The Town Labourer and the Industrial Revolution. London: B.T.Batsford, 1974. Ward, J. T. The Age of Change 1770-1870. London: A&C Black, 1975. Links http://www.horatioalger.com/ http://www.aobs-store.com/reviews/mcguffey.htm http://www.ihot.com/~has/ http://www.liberty-tree.org/ltn/mcguffeys-reader.html Citation reference for this article MLA Style Beder, Sharon. "The Promotion of a Secular Work Ethic" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 4.5 (2001). [your date of access] < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0111/Beder.xml >. Chicago Style Beder, Sharon, "The Promotion of a Secular Work Ethic" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 4, no. 5 (2001), < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0111/Beder.xml > ([your date of access]). APA Style Beder, Sharon. (2001) The Promotion of a Secular Work Ethic. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 4(5). < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0111/Beder.xml > ([your date of access]).

The war in Ukraine has serious consequences for the entire Ukrainian society and the world in general. The Ukrainian people have once again suffered a tragic event at the hands of the Russian Federation in the 21st century, resulting in a bloody genocide and undermining the concept of freedom for all humanity. Ukraine survived the Holodomor genocides of the 1920s, 1930s and 1940s, the occupation wars of the Soviet Union in the early 1920s and late 1930s, and deportations of Ukrainians in the 20th and 21st centuries [1]. Every family remembers the significant losses of loved ones through generations and their suffering across the world. The concept of genocide as a crime emerged in international law after the Second World War. Lawyer Raphael Lemkin, a Polish and American legal practitioner of Jewish origin, first introduced the term genocide as a legal concept. In the early 1920s, R. Lemkin studied philology and then law at the Jan Kazimierz University of Lviv. He defended his doctoral thesis at Heidelberg University in Germany, served as an assistant prosecutor in Berezhany in Ternopil Region, and lectured in Warsaw. In the early 1930s, he represented Poland at international legal conferences, and as early as 1933, he suggested that those who deliberately harmed a large group of people out of hatred and destroyed their cultural treasures, engaged in “vandalism,” killed, and raped should be considered as manifestations of genocide. People who performed actions or gave orders to do them should be tried and punished [2]. On December 9, 1948, the United Nations General Assembly adopted the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide. The definition of genocide is used in the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court [3]. The following acts committed with the intention of complete or partial destruction of the national, ethnic, racial or religious group are considered genocide: 1) murder; 2) causing severe physical or mental injuries; 3) deliberate creation of living conditions that are designed for complete or partial destruction; 4) actions intended to prevent the birth of children; 5) forcible transfer of children of this group to another group [4]. Thousands of Ukrainian civilians, wounded, soldiers, and prisoners of war have been victims of violent murders in this war. Russian prisoners of war have given testimony: “We had an order to immediately shoot anyone over 15 years of age without a word. 20 to 24 individuals were executed, including teenagers aged 10–15 and 17... we cleared the building. It was unimportant who was there... In Soledar and Bakhmut, 150 Wagner Group mercenaries killed everyone – women, men, retired, and children, including young ones aged five... If they disobeyed orders, they were killed” [5]. They not only murdered civilian Ukrainians but were also ordered to finish off injured Ukrainian soldiers and shoot and behead prisoners[5]. In Geneva, Chair of the UN Independent International Commission of Inquiry, Erik Møse, stated that while no evidence had yet been found, the question «of the genocide in Ukraine presented by independent experts regarding the actions of the Russian aggressor (killings, inflicting severe bodily or mental injuries) needed further investigation». This is how the UN works, not for the people, but for the Russian Federation!!! [6] The International Criminal Court in the Hague, which has the authority to prosecute individuals responsible for genocide, war crimes, and crimes against humanity, has only recognized the fifth item as a manifestation of genocide in Ukraine – the forcible transfer of children from one group to another. The International Criminal Court issued an arrest warrant for the President of the Russian Federation, Vladimir Putin, for deporting Ukrainian children to Russia, as well as for the RF Commissioner for Children’s Rights, Maria Lvova-Belova, who is suspected of committing a war crime. The courageous and consistent chief prosecutor of the International Criminal Court, Karim Khan, believes that no one should feel free to commit crimes [7]. We review the third and fourth items of the UN Convention in this article, which demonstrate signs of genocide in Ukraine and are associated with medicine, education, and science. Specifically, the intentional creation of living conditions intended for complete or partial destruction, actions intended to prevent the birth of children. Since late February 2022 and up to the present day, the WHO has verified 1,773 attacks on the healthcare system in Ukraine, resulting in the deaths of at least 136 medical workers and injuries to 288 [8]. 1,564 medical facilities were damaged, and an additional 208 were completely destroyed. During this period, the Russian army also destroyed 260 ambulances, damaged 161, and captured another 125. The enemy attacks medical infrastructure, such as hospitals, outpatient healthcare facilities, maternity hospitals, polyclinics, etc., on a daily basis [9]. In 2024, the attacks intensified. The healthcare infrastructure has suffered significant damage, particularly in areas near the front line. Up to 14% of facilities were completely destroyed, and up to 48% experienced partial damage. During this period, 40% of all attacks on the healthcare system are targeted at the primary level of medical care, hindering Ukrainians’ access to essential medical services. Emergency medical care centers accounted for 15% of the attacks. The number of double strikes has increased, posing an even greater danger to emergency workers and civilians. Emergency service workers and medical transport personnel are three times more likely to be injured by such strikes compared to other medical professionals. The most significant damage was suffered by medical facilities in Kharkiv, Donetsk, Mykolaiv, Kyiv, Chernihiv, Dnipropetrovsk, Kherson, and Zaporizhzhia Oblasts. The cost of medications has increased for the state during the war, particularly when inpatient treatment for patients is required. Patients purchase many medications themselves. Delivery of medicines to frontline regions is challenging. Providing access to medications is a significant issue in the healthcare sector, especially in areas that are subjected to constant shelling. As of April 2023, 75% of individuals had faced challenges because of the rising cost of medications, and 44% had difficulties obtaining them[10]. From February 24, 2022 to September 2023, complicated patients with oncological, autoimmune, and cardiovascular conditions who were receiving medication through clinical trials were affected. According to data from the State Expert Center of Ukraine, at the onset of the full-scale war, international sponsors of clinical trials suspended patient recruitment for 217 clinical trials. 234 clinical trials were prematurely terminated. Participants in the clinical trials were given four options: continuing treatment at the trial site (if possible), withdrawing from the trial early, transferring to other sites within Ukraine, or transferring to locations outside of Ukraine. Displaced patients scattered across over 25 countries around the world. The top therapeutic fields of transferred researched individuals were oncology, neurology, gastroenterology, rheumatology, and cardiology [10]. Damaging the energy infrastructure in Ukraine directly impacts the functioning of healthcare facilities. This applies to both the supply of electricity and water. Following the strikes on energy infrastructure last month, the winter season of 2024–2025 is likely to be extremely challenging. We also need to consider the availability of quality water and adequate sanitation, which are essential conditions for ensuring public health. 22% of households in the frontline regions delay seeking medical assistance. This is mainly due to financial constraints. Specifically, 24% of households are unable to afford medication, while 51% cannot cover the cost of medical services or vaccinations. Furthermore, there is an increasing lack of medical staff and a significant level of burnout. They feel a double burden. Medical professionals are part of affected communities in need of support and psychological assistance [11,12]. Therefore, the deliberate killing of patients and medical staff, the destruction of hospitals, polyclinics, outpatient medical facilities, and maternity hospitals, the destruction of the energy supply of medical facilities, the double bombing of ambulances, the inability to obtain necessary medications for patients, especially the seriously ill, the lack of possibility of getting medical assistance for Ukrainian citizens on their own territory are all consequences of the treacherous war waged by the Russian Federation against a neighboring country with the aim of seizing Ukrainian lands. Isn’t it a manifestation of genocide? Citizens of Ukraine have been deprived of the right to normal medical care for a third consecutive year! As medical professionals, we would like to ask the UN Investigative Committee if this could be considered a form of genocide. Children and young people have faced terrible trials as a result of the brutal war, depriving them of a normal life and education. 1,790 children have been recognized as victims during the deceitful war in Ukraine. 535 children have died, and over 1,255 have sustained injuries of varying degrees of severity, according to official information from juvenile prosecutors [13]. Many children and students had their schools, colleges, institutes, and universities destroyed or captured. 410 educational institutions were completely destroyed, and over 3,500 were damaged [14]. Due to frequent air raid alerts and bombings in Ukraine, education takes place in shelters or remotely. Children and youth lack the chance to obtain a quality education, making it challenging for them to enroll in higher educational institutions. More than a million children are unable to communicate with their teachers and friends because they are pursuing distance learning. Children living in the frontline territories of Ukraine have been forced to spend about 5,000 hours in underground shelters and the subway over the past two years [14]. The future of Ukraine greatly depends on the higher education of its youth. More than ten universities and research institutes were destroyed, with up to 40 experiencing destruction. Many students and faculty had to relocate to safe areas in Western Ukraine or evacuate abroad [15]. Ukrainian science has been suffering losses due to Russian aggression since 2014, following the occupation of Crimea and parts of Donetsk and Luhansk Regions. This resulted in Ukrainian scientific and educational institutions losing their premises, equipment, and some employees. They were forced to restructure their work during the evacuation. Since February 24, 2022, Ukraine has suffered unparalleled losses to its scientific community, with casualties including renowned professors, associate professors, senior researchers, assistants, graduate students, and undergraduates. By April 2024, over 140 Ukrainian scientists had perished in the full-scale Russian-Ukrainian war. We have lost highly talented individuals – the cream of the Ukrainian society [16]. Research and professional development opportunities for scientists in Ukraine are limited or completely absent due to the war. Continuous shelling, life-threatening situations, ruined labs, lecture halls, and research institutes, financial shortages, absence of basic amenities (power cuts, internet and mobile communication disruptions, etc.), displacement, forced emigration, and Russian occupation are just some of the challenges faced by students, teachers, and scientists. According to the National Research Fund, only 57 out of 169 teams are prepared to resume their scientific research and development under martial law conditions. Only 62 teams can continue their work under specific circumstances, and 50 teams will be unable to continue their research at all [17]. Therefore, the deliberate destruction of educational and scientific institutions provides grounds to label the actions of the Russian Federation as “scientific genocide” against Ukrainian citizens. This is all part of the genocide of the Ukrainian people, aimed at eradicating Ukraine’s intellectual capacity. Ukrainians have been denied access to proper education and science due to the war initiated by the Russian Federation. In conclusion, we call upon the civilized world that upholds democratic principles, the UN, and the International Criminal Court in The Hague! You are observing another genocide and its elements: urbicide, eliticide, linguicide, ecocide, and culturicide of the ancient Ukrainian people living in the heart of Europe. Ukraine has suffered all five legal indicators of genocide as adopted by the Rome Statute during this war. We do not want other European and world countries to experience this horror! We beg you: make strategically correct decisions for the future of humanity, because it may be too late for everyone!

When we think of United Nations (UN) peacekeepers, the first image that is conjured in our mind is of an individual sporting a blue helmet or a blue beret (fig. 1). While simple and uncomplicated, these blue accessories represent an expression and an embodiment resembling that of a warrior, sent to bring peace to conflict-torn communities. UN peacekeeping first conceptually emerged in 1948 in the wake of the Arab-Israeli war that ensued following the United Kingdom’s relinquishing of its mandate over Palestine, and the proclamation of the State of Israel. “Forged in the crucible of practical diplomacy” (Rubinstein 16), unarmed military observers were deployed to Palestine to monitor the hostilities and mediate armistice agreements between Israel and its Arab neighbours. This operation, the United Nations Truce Supervision Organization (UNTSO), significantly exemplified the diplomatic and observational capabilities of military men, in line with the UN Charter’s objectives of international peace and security, setting henceforth a basic archetype for international peacekeeping. It was only in 1956, however, that peacekeeping formally emerged when armed UN forces deployed to Egypt to supervise the withdrawal of forces occupying the Suez Canal (informally known as the ‘Second Arab-Israeli’ war). Here, the formation of UN peacekeeping represented an international pacifying mechanism comprised of multiple third-party intermediaries whereby peaceful resolution would be achieved by transcending realist instincts of violence for political attainment in favour of applying a less-destructive liberal model of persuasion, compromise, and perseverance (Howard). ‘Blue helmet’ peacekeeping operations continue to be regarded by the UN as an integral subsidiary instrument of its organisation. At present, there are 12 active peacekeeping operations led by the UN Department of Peacekeeping across the world (United Nations Peacekeeping). Fig. 1: United Nations Mission in South Sudan (UNMISS) sporting blue berets (https://www.gov.uk/government/news/uk-troops-awarded-un-medals-for-south-sudan-peacekeeping-mission) But where did the blue helmets and berets originate from? Rubinstein details a surprisingly mundane account of the origins of the political accessory that is now a widely recognised symbol for UN peacekeepers’ uniforms. Peacekeepers’ uniforms initially emerged from the ad hoc need to distinguish UN troops from those of the armed forces in a distinctive dress during the 1947 UNTSO mission by any means and material readily available, such as armbands and helmets (Henry). The era of early peacekeeping operations also saw ‘observers’ carry UN flags and paint their vehicle white with ‘UN’ written in large black letters in order to distinguish themselves. The blue helmets specifically came to be adorned during the first peacekeeping operation in 1956 during the Suez crisis. At this time, Canada supplied a large number of non-combatant troops whose uniform was the same as the belligerent British forces, party to the conflict. An effort to thus distinguish the peacekeepers was made by spray-painting surplus World War II American plastic helmet-liners, which were available in quantity in Europe, blue (Urquhart; Rubenstein). The two official colours of the UN are ‘light blue’ and ‘white’. The unique light “UN” blue colour, in particular, was approved as the background for the UN flag in the 1947 General Assembly Resolution 167(II), alongside a white emblem depicting a map of the world surrounded by two olive branches. While the UN’s use of the colour was chosen as a “practical effect of identifying the Organization in areas of trouble and conflict, to any and all parties concerned”, the colour blue was also specifically chosen at this time as “an integral part of the visual identity of the organisation” representing “peace in opposition to red, for war” (United Nations). Blue is seen to be placed in antithesis to the colour red across several fields including popular culture, and even within politics, as a way to typically indicate conflict between two warring groups. Within popular culture, for example, many films in the science fiction, fantasy, or horror genres, use a clearly demarcated, dichotomous ‘red vs. blue’ colour scheme in their posters (fig. 2). This is also commonly seen in political campaign posters, for example during the 2021 US presidential election (fig. 3). Fig. 2: Blue and red colour schemes in film posters (left to right: Star Wars: The Force Awakens (2015), Captain Marvel (2019), and The Dead Don’t Die (2019)) Fig. 3: Biden (Democratic party) vs. Trump (Republican party) US presidential election (https://www.abc.net.au/news/2020-10-15/us-election-political-parties-explained-democrats-vs-republicans/12708296) This dichotomy can be traced back to the high Middle Ages between the fourteenth and seventeenth century where the colour blue became a colour associated with “moral implications”, rivalling both the colours black and red which were extremely popular in clothing during the eras of the late Middle Ages and early Renaissance (Pastoureau 85). This ‘moral metamorphosis’ in European society was largely influenced by the views of Christian Protestant reformers concerning the social, religious, and artistic use of the colour blue (Pastoureau). A shift in the use of blue and its symbolic connotations may also be seen, for example, in early Christian art and iconography, specifically those deriving from depictions of the Virgin Mary; according to Pastoureau (50), this provides the “clearest illustration of the social, religious, and artistic consequences of blue's new status”. Up until the eighteenth century, the colour blue, specifically ‘sky blue’ or light blue tones resemblant of the “UN” shade of blue, had minimal symbolic or aesthetic value, particularly in European culture and certainly amongst nobility and the upper levels of society. Historically, light blue was typically associated with peasants’ clothing. This was due to the fact that peasants would often dye their clothes using the pigment of the woad herb; however, the woad would poorly penetrate cloth fibres and inevitably fade under the effects of sunlight and soap, thereby resulting in a ‘bland’ colour (Pastoureau). Although the blue hues worn by the nobility and wealthy were typically denser and more solid, a “new fashion” for light blue tones gradually took hold at the courts of the wealthy and the bourgeoisie, inevitably becoming deeply anchored in Western European counties (Pastoureau). Here, the reorganisation of the colour hierarchy and reformulation of blue certainly resembles Pastoureau’s (10) assertion that “any history of colour is, above all, a social history”. Within the humanities, colour represents a social phenomenon and construction. Colour thus provides insights into the ways society assigns meaning to it, “constructs its codes and values, establishes its uses, and determines whether it is acceptable or not” (Pastoureau, 10). In this way, although colour is a naturally occurring phenomenon, it is also a complex cultural construct. That the UN and its subsidiary bodies, including the Department of Peacekeeping, deliberately assigned light blue as its official organisational colour therefore usefully illustrates a significant social process of meaning-making and cultural sociology. The historical transition of light blue’s association from one of poverty in and around the eighteenth century to one of wealth in the nineteenth century may perhaps also be indicative of the next transitional era for light blue in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, representative of the amalgamation or unity between the two classes. Representing the ambitions not only of the organisation, but rather of the 193 member-states, of attaining worldwide peace, light blue may be seen as a colour of peace, as well as one of the people, for the people. This may be traced back, according to Pastoureau, as early as the Middle Ages where the colour blue was seen a colour of ‘peace’. Colours, however, do not solely determine social and cultural relevance in a given historical event. Rather, fabrics and clothing too offer “the richest and most diverse source of artifacts” in understanding history and culture. Artifacts such as UN peacekeepers’ blue berets and helmets necessarily incorporate economic, social, ideological, aesthetic, and symbolic aspects of both colour and material into the one complete uniform (Pastoureau). While the ‘UN blue’ is associated with peace, the beret, on the other hand, has been described as “an ally in the battlefield” (Kliest). The history of the beret is largely rooted in the armed forces – institutions typically associated with conflict and violence – and it continues to be a vital aspect of military uniforms worn by personnel from countries all around the globe. Given that the large majority of UN peacekeeping forces are made up of military personnel, peacekeeping, as both an action and an institution, thus adds a layer of complexity when discussing artifact symbolism. Here, a peacekeeper’s uniform uniquely represents the embodiment of an amalgamation of two traditionally juxtaposing concepts: peace, nurture, and diplomacy (often associated with ‘feminine’ qualities) versus conflict, strength, and discipline (often associated with ‘masculine’ qualities). A peacekeeper’s uniform thus represents the UN’s institutionalisation of “soldiers for peace” (Howard) who are, as former UN Secretary-General Dag Hammarskjold proclaimed, “the front line of a moral force” (BBC cited in Howard). Aside from its association with the armed forces, the beret has also been used as a fashion symbol by political revolutionaries, such as members of the ‘Black Panther Party’ (BPP) founded in the 1960s during the US Civil Rights Movement, as well as Che Guevara, prominent Leftist figure in the Cuban Revolution (see fig. 4). For, Rosabelle Forzy, CEO of beret and headwear fashion manufacturing company ‘Laulhère’, the beret is “emblematic of non-conformism … worn by people who create, commit, militate, and resist” (Kliest). Fig. 4: Berets worn by political revolutionaries (Left to right: Black Panthers Party (BPP) protesting outside of a New York courthouse (https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2988897/Black-Panther-double-cop-killer-sues-freedom-plays-FLUTE-Murderer-demands-parole-changed-fury-victim-s-widow.html), and portrait of Che Guevara) In a way, the UN’s ‘blue beret’ too bears a ‘non-conformist’ visage as its peacekeepers neither fit categorisations as ‘revolutionaries’ nor as traditional ‘soldiers’. Peacekeepers personify a cultural phenomenon that operates in a complex environment (Rubinstein). While peacekeepers retain their national military (usually camouflage) uniforms during missions, the UN headwear is a symbol of non-conformity in response to sociological preconceptions regarding military culture. In the case of peacekeeping, the implementation and longevity of peacekeepers’ uniforms has occurred through a process of what Rubinstein (50) refers to as ‘cultural’ or ‘symbolic inversion’ wherein traditional notions of military rituals and symbolism have been appropriated or ‘inverted’ and given a new meaning by the UN. In other words, the UN promotes the image of soldiers acting without the use of force in service of peace in order to encode an image of a “world transformed” through the contribution of peacekeeping toward the “elaboration of an image of an international community acting in a neutral, consensual manner” (Rubinstein, 50). Cultural inversion therefore creates a socio-political space wherein normative representations are reconfigured and conditioned as acceptable. Rubinstein argues, however, that the UN’s need to integrate individuals with such diverse backgrounds and perceptions into a collective peacekeeper identity can be problematic. Rubinstein (72) adds that the blue beret is the “most obvious evidence” of an ordinary symbol investing ‘legitimacy’ in peacekeeping through ritual repetition which still holds its cultural relevance to the present day. Arguably, institutional uniforms are symbols which profoundly shape human experience, validating contextual action according to the symbol’s meanings relevant to those wearing it. In this way, uniform symbolism not only allows us to make sense of our daily experiences, but allows us to construct and understand our identities and our interactions with others who are also part of the symbolic culture we are situated in. Consider, for example, a police officer. A police officer’s uniform not only grants them membership to the policing institution but also necessarily grants them certain powers, privileges, and jurisdictions within society which thereby impact on the way they see the world and interact with it. Necessarily, the social and cultural identity one acquires from wearing a specific uniform only effectively functions by “investing differences”, however large or small, into these symbols that “distinguish us from others” (Rubinstein, 74). For example, a policeman’s badge is a signifier that they are, in fact, part of an exclusive group that the majority of the citizenry are not. To this extent, the use of uniforms is not without its controversies or without the capacity to be misused as a tool of discrimination in a ‘them’ versus ‘us’ scenario. Referring to case regarding the beret, for example, in 2000 then US Army Chief of Staff, General Eric Shineski, announced that the black beret – traditionally worn exclusively by specialised US Army units such as ‘Rangers’ – would become a standardised part of the US Army uniform for all soldiers and would denote a “symbol of unity”. General Shineski’s decision for the new headgear symbolised “the half-million-strong army’s transition to a lighter, more agile force that can respond more rapidly to distant trouble spots” (Borger). This was, however, met with angry backlash particularly from the Rangers who stated that they “were being robbed of a badge of pride” as “the beret is a symbol of excellence … that is not to be worn by everybody” (Borger). Responses to the proposition pointed to the problem of ‘low morale’ that the military faced, which could not be fixed just by “changing hats” (Borger). In this case, the beret was identified and isolated as a tool for coordinating perceptions (Rubinstein, 78). Here, the use of uniforms is as much about being external identifiers and designating a group from another as it is about sustaining a group by means of perpetuating what Rubinstein conceptualises as ‘self-legitimation’. This occurs in order to ensure the survival of a group and is similarly seen as occurring within UN peacekeeping (Joseph & Alex). Within peacekeeping the blue beret is an effective symbol used to perpetuate self-legitimacy across various levels of the UN which construct systems, or a ‘community’, of reinforcement largely rooted on organisational models of virtue and diplomacy. In the broadest sense, the UN promotes “a unique responsibility to set a global standard” in service to creating a unified and pacific world order (Guterres). As an integral instrument of international action, peacekeeping is, by extension, necessarily conditioned and supported by this cultural model whereby the actions of individual peacekeepers are strategically linked to the symbolic capital at the broadest levels of the organisation to manage the organisation’s power and legitimacy. The image of the peacekeeper, however, is fraught with problems and, as such, UN peacekeepers’ uniforms represent discrepancies and contradictions in the UN’s mission and organisational culture, particularly with relation to the UN’s symbolic construction of community and cooperation amongst peacekeepers. Given that peacekeeping troops are made up of individuals from different ethnic, cultural, and professional backgrounds, conditions for cultural interaction become challenging, if not problematic, and may necessarily lead to cross-cultural misunderstandings, miscommunication, and conflict. This applies to the context of peacekeeper deployment to host nations amongst local communities with whom they are also culturally unfamiliar (Rubinstein, "Intervention"). According to Rubinstein ("Intervention", 528), such operations may “create the conditions under which criminal activities or the institution of neo-colonial relationships can emerge”. Moncrief adds to this by also suggesting that a breakdown in conduct and discipline during missions may also contribute to peacekeepers engaging in violence during missions. Consequently, multiple cases of misdemeanour by UN peacekeepers have been reported across the years including peacekeeper involvement in bribery, weapons trading, and gold smuggling (Escobales). One of the most notorious acts of misconduct and violence that continues to be reported in the present day, however, is of peacekeepers perpetrating sexual exploitation and abuse against host women and children. Between 2004 and 2016, for example, “the UN received almost 2,000 allegations of sexual exploitation and abuse” (Essa). According to former chief of operations at the UN’s Emergency Co-ordination Centre, Andrew Macleod, this figure may be, however, much more disturbing, estimating in general that approximately “60,000 rapes had been carried out by UN staff in the past decade” (Zeffman). An article in the Guardian reported that a 12-year-old girl had been hiding in a bathroom during a house search in a Muslim enclave of the capital, Bangui [in the Central African Republic] … . A man allegedly wearing the blue helmet and vest of the UN peacekeeping forces took her outside and raped her behind a truck. (Smith & Lewis) In the article, the assailant’s uniform (“the blue helmet and vest”) is not only described as literal imagery to contextualise the grave crime that was committed against the child. In evoking the image of the blue helmet and vest, the author highlights the uniform as a symbolic tool of power which was misused to perpetuate harm against the vulnerable civilian ‘other’. In this scenario, like many others, rather than representing peace and hope, the blue helmet (or beret) instead illustrates the contradictions of the UN peacekeeper’s uniform. Here, the uniform has consequently come to be associated as a symbol of violence, fear, and most significantly, betrayal, for the victim(s) of the abuse, as well as for much of the victim’s community. This discrepancy was also highlighted in a speech presented by former Ambassador of the UK Mission to the UN, Matthew Rycroft, who stated that “when a girl looks up to a blue helmet, she should do so not in fear, but in hope”. For many peacekeepers perpetrating sexual exploitation and abuse, particularly transactional sex, however, they “do not see themselves as abusing women”. This is largely to do with the power and privileges peacekeepers are afforded, such as ‘immunity’ – that is, a peacekeeper is granted immunity from trial or prosecution for criminal misconduct by the host nation’s judicial system. Over the years, scholarly research regarding peacekeepers’ immunity has highlighted a plethora of organisational problems within the UN, including lack of perpetrator accountability, and internal investigation or follow-up. More so, it has undoubtedly “contributed to a culture of individuals committing sexual violence knowing that they will get away with it” (Freedman). When a peacekeeper wears their uniform, they are thus imbued with the power and charged with the responsibility to properly embody and represent the values of the UN; “if [peacekeepers] don’t understand how powerful a position they are in, they will never understand what they do is actually wrong” (Elks). As such, unlike other traditional institutional uniforms, such as that of a soldier or a police officer, a peacekeeper’s uniform stands out as an enigma. One the one hand, peacekeepers channel the peaceful and passive organisational values of the UN by wearing the blue beret or helmet, whilst at the same time, they continue to sport the national military body uniform of their home country. Questions pertaining to the peacekeeper’s uniform arise and require further exploration: how can peacekeepers disassociate from their disciplined military personas and learnt combat skills if they continue to wear military camouflage during peacekeeping missions? Is the addition of the blue beret or helmet enough to reconfigure the body of the peacekeeper from one of violence, masculinity, and offence to that of peace, nurture, and diplomacy? Certainly, a range of factors are pertinent to an understanding of peacekeepers’ behaviour and group culture. But whether these two opposing identities can cohesively create or reconstitute a third identity using the positive skills and attributes of both juxtaposing institutions remains elusive. Nonetheless, the blue beret is a symbol of international hope, not only for vulnerable populations, but also for the world population collectively, as it represents neutral third-party member states working together to rebuild the world through non-combative means. References Borger, Julian. “Elite Forces Fear the Coming of the Egalitarian Beret.” The Guardian 19 Oct. 2000. <https://www.theguardian.com/world/2000/oct/19/julianborger>. Elks, Sonia. “Haitians Say Underaged Girls Were Abused by U.N. Peacekeepers.” Reuters 19 Dec. 2019. <https://www.reuters.com/article/us-haiti-women-peacekeepers-idUSKBN1YM27W>. Escobales, Roxanne. “UN Peacekeepers 'Traded Gold and Guns with Congolese rebels'.” The Guardian 28 Apr. 2008. <https://www.theguardian.com/world/2008/apr/28/congo.unitednations>. Essa, Azad. “Why Do Some Peacekeepers Rape? The Full Report.” Al Jazeera 10 Aug. 2017. <https://www.aljazeera.com/features/2017/8/10/why-do-some-peacekeepers-rape-the-full-report>. 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