Статті в журналах з теми "Demographic surveys Victoria Melbourne"

A postal survey was sent to anaesthetic trainees in Hong Kong and Victoria, Australia to compare work-related stress levels. Demographic data were collected. Anaesthetist-specific stressors, Maslach Burnout Inventory and Global Job Satisfaction scores were used for psychological testing. The response rates from Hong Kong and Melbourne were 64 of 133 (48.1%) and 108 of 196 (55.1%), respectively. Victorian respondents were older with greater family commitments, but more advanced in fulfilling training requirements. Hong Kong respondents, being faced with both the challenge of dual College requirements, exhibited consistently higher indices of stress (P <0.001) and less job satisfaction (P <0.001). Common occupational stressors related to dealing with critically ill patients and medicolegal concerns. Higher stress scores observed in Hong Kong trainees related to service provision and a perceived lack of resources. Despite the complex nature of stress, its antecedents and manifestations, an inverse relationship between emotional exhaustion and job satisfaction was evident in correlation analysis (P <0.001). This survey suggests that stress was present in some trainees in both areas. Hong Kong trainees may benefit from local development to address mental wellbeing as being important to fulfil this highly competitive training program.

Objectives: To establish a new mechanism for monitoring patterns of HIV infection, in the context of a sustained increase in HIV diagnosis among men who have sex with men (MSM) in Victoria. Methods: Between April 2004 and August 2005, a linked voluntary HIV sentinel surveillance system was implemented at five medical clinics with a high case load of MSM. Using a questionnaire, doctors collected HIV testing history, demographic and sexual risk behaviour information from all clients undergoing voluntary HIV testing. Questionnaires were linked with HIV test results. Logistic regression analysis was conducted to determine factors associated with HIV infection. Results: Of 3435 MSM tested for HIV at participating sites, 1.7%, (95% CI = 1.2–2.2) were newly diagnosed with HIV; between 2004 and 2005 the proportion increased from 1.3% (95% CI = 1.2–1.5) to 2.0% (95% CI = 1.8–2.2), P = 0.107. There was no significant change in the number of HIV tests conducted per month or in demographic characteristics, testing history and sexual behaviour characteristics between time periods. In multivariate analysis, reporting unprotected anal intercourse (UAI) with any partner, UAI with a HIV-positive partner/s and being aged 30–39 years or 40 years or greater were significantly associated with HIV infection. Conclusion: This new surveillance mechanism, based on linked testing at participating clinics, indicates that the increase in HIV notifications in 2005 was unrelated to changes in testing and data from a Melbourne sexual behavioural survey suggests the increase was more likely to be attributed to increases in transmission within the past few years. The sentinel system highlighted UAI, especially with HIV positive partner/s are important transmission factors.

Objectives: Patients with chronic mental illnesses constitute an important risk group for HIV infection overseas. This study aimed to determine the prevalence of risk behaviours associated with HIV transmission and factors associated with HIV testing in psychiatric patients in Melbourne. Methods: Inpatients and outpatients completed an interviewer-administered questionnaire which covered demographics, psychiatric diagnosis, risk behaviour, and HIV education and testing. Results: Of 145 participants, 60% were male and 55.2% had schizophrenia. Injecting drug use (IDU) was reported by 15.9%, a figure approximately 10 times that found in other population surveys. Most patients reported sex in the last decade and over 20% had multiple sexual partners in the last year. Of males, 12.6% reported sex with another male (9.2% anal sex); 19.0% of females reported sex with a bisexual male. Nearly half of the males reported sex with a prostitute, 2.5 times that in a population sample. Only 15.9% reported ever having someone talk to them specifically about HIV and its transmission, although one-third had been tested for HIV. In multivariate analysis, male-male sex, paying for sex, and IDU were associated with HIV testing, but those whose primary language was not English were less likely to be tested. Those who had received HIV education were more likely to have used a condom last time they had sex (OR 4.52, 95%C11.49–14.0). Conclusions: This study provides evidence that those with serious mental illness in Victoria have higher rates of participation in risk behaviour for HIV infection than those in the general community. Attention to HIV education and prevention in this group has been inappropriately scant; strategies to encourage safer behaviour are urgently needed.

This paper reports findings from a comparative study which investigated public attitudes to recycled water in two Australian locations both in the state of Victoria: the capital city, Melbourne, and Bendigo, an urban regional centre. Two commercial buildings were used as case studies, one at each location. These buildings will soon be using recycled water for non-potable uses. The study was facilitated by an on-line survey of future occupants of both buildings to gauge their attitudes to recycled water use. Specifically the paper reports on happiness/willingness to use recycled water for various uses and attitudinal factors which were found to influence this. The circumstances for potable water availability and recycled water use differ in Melbourne and Bendigo, making this study a significant contribution to understanding public acceptance of recycled water use in these different contexts. No significant difference in happiness to use recycled water was found between locations. However, prior experience (use) of recycled water was found to be a significant and positive factor in facilitating happiness/willingness to use recycled water, particularly for closer to personal contact uses such as showering and drinking. Various attitudinal and demographic variables were found to influence happiness to use recycled water. Results indicate it is not just the locational context of water availability that influences happiness to use recycled water, but a person's experience and particular perceptions that will facilitate greater willingness to use recycled water.

Objective Most major Victorian hospitals include religious identity in routine admission demographic questions. However, approximately 20% of admissions do not have their religious identity recorded. At the Royal Melbourne Hospital this missing 20% was surveyed throughout 2014–15 for two reasons: (1) to enable patient care; and (2) to provide an insight into the significance of religious identity for patients. There is scarce literature on this subject, so the present mixed-methods study, including a qualitative component, will start to bridge the gap. Methods Mixed methods, cross-sectional survey. Results The quantitative component of the study found that religious identity was important for a significant proportion of our diverse population and that, in general, demographics were congruent with Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS) census figures. The qualitative component also revealed significant complexity behind religious identity labels, which the census is unable to capture, providing an insight into the requirements of our growing multicultural population. Conclusions This study illustrates that religious identity is important for a majority of Royal Melbourne’s culturally diverse inpatients. This data would seem to give the practice of collecting religious identity data on admission new credence, especially as our culturally and linguistically diverse populations increase. In order to understand these nuances and provide appropriate care, skilled spiritual screening and assessment would appear to be not optional, but rather necessary in our increasingly complex healthcare future. What is known about the topic? A search of the literature using related terms (religious, religion, spiritual identity, care) revealed that there is scarce literature on the subject of religious identity and its importance and meaning to patients. What does this paper add? This mixed methods study approaches the issue of the importance of religious identity from the patient perspective via a spiritual screening survey that included a qualitative component, so will begin to bridge a gap in knowledge. What are the implications for practitioners? Improved understanding of the complexity of the spiritual needs of our Victorian multicultural population and commensurate emphasis on the need for individual spiritual screening and assessment.

The brush-tailed phascogale (Phascogale tapoatafa tapoatafa) is a marsupial threatened in Victoria by habitat fragmentation and modification. As part of the development of infrastructure in phascogale habitat, Melbourne Water was required to improve habitat for the phascogale. We aimed to develop and test a method for monitoring phascogales on Melbourne Water land, and to assess the effectiveness of habitat improvements. Trapping, nest boxes, and cameras were all successful in detecting phascogales; however, cameras had the highest detection per unit effort. We suggest that future monitoring should favour camera surveys with trapping potentially every 3–5 years for acquisition of physical data.

We review the distribution, habitat and conservation status of the eastern pygmy-possum (Cercartetus nanus) in Victoria. Data on the habitat occurrences and rates of detection were gleaned from 133 published and unpublished fauna surveys conducted from 1968 to 2003 in Gippsland; northern Victoria; the Melbourne area and south-western region. C. nanus was reported from a broad range of vegetation communities, which predominantly included a dense mid-storey of shrubs rich in nectar-producing species such as those from the families Proteaceae and Myrtaceae. Survey effort using a range of methods was immense across surveys: 305,676 Elliott/cage trap-nights, 49,582 pitfall trap-nights, 18,331 predator remains analysed, 4424 spotlight hours, and 7346 hair-sampling devices deployed, 1005 trees stagwatched, and 5878 checks of installed nest-boxes. The surveys produced 434 records of C. nanus, with Elliott/cage trapping, pitfall trapping and analysis of predator remains responsible for the vast majority of records (93%). These data and those from the Atlas of Victorian Wildlife indicate that although C. nanus has a widespread distribution in Victoria, it is rarely observed or trapped in fauna surveys. Only 11 (8%) of the surveys we reviewed detected >10 individuals. C. nanus is likely to be sensitive to several recognised threatening processes in Victoria (e.g., feral predators, high frequency fire, feral honeybees). There is also evidence of range declines in several regions, which suggests that the species is vulnerable to extinction. Therefore, we recommend that it be nominated as a threatened species in Victoria.

Background: To estimate the population-based chlamydia prevalence among women aged 18 to 35 years living in Melbourne, Victoria, and to assess the feasibility of using mailed urine specimens to test women. Methods: A simple random sample of 11 001 households in Melbourne was selected from the telephone directory. Participants completed telephone interviews and provided urine specimens through the mail for chlamydia testing. Urines were tested using polymerase chain reaction. Results: 11 001 households were contacted, with 1532 households identified as including eligible women; telephone interviews were completed, with 979 women giving a response rate of 64%. Six hundred and fifty-seven women provided a urine specimen with a response rate of 43%. Among sexually active women aged 18–24 years, the chlamydia prevalence was 3.7% (95% CI: 1.2%, 8.4%) and 0.2% (95% CI: 0.0%, 1.1%) among 25–35 year olds. Chlamydia prevalence increased significantly with an increasing number of male sexual partners. Conclusions: This is the first study of its kind in Australia and shows that chlamydia prevalence increases with an increasing number of male sexual partners in the last 12 months. Mailed urine specimens are feasible for conducting population-based chlamydia-prevalence surveys but it is difficult to obtain high response rates with this methodology. Public health resources should now be directed towards investigating how to reach young women at increased risk of infection, ensuring that they are tested for chlamydia.

Purpose The process for examining the value of house prices in an urban city has given limited attention, if any, to demographic variables associated with urban geography. Although the disciplines of property/real estate and demography have moved closer, little progress has been made when modelling house prices using population-related data in the field of urban geography to explain the level of house prices. Design/methodology/approach This paper proposes an innovative model to examine the influence of population variables on the level of house prices. It used a two-stage approach as follows: principal components analysis (PCA) identified social dimensions from a range of demographic variables, which were then retained for further analysis. This information was sourced from two Australian Bureau of Statistics censuses undertaken involving all Melbourne residents during 1996, 2001, 2006 and 2011; multiple regression analysis examined the relationship between the retained factor scores from the PCA (as independent variables) and established residential house prices (as the dependent variable). Findings The findings confirm the demographic profile of each household, which is directly related to their decisions about housing location and house prices. Based on a case study of Melbourne, Victoria, it was demonstrated that households with specific demographic characteristics are closely related to a certain level of house prices at the suburban level. Originality/value This is an innovative study which has not been previously undertaken for an extended period of time to facilitate an analysis of change over time.

AbstractKnowledge of permafrost characteristics and distribution in Antarctica and their relationships with present and past climates is still poor. This paper reports investigations on permafrost in an area located between Nansen Ice Sheet to the south and Mount Melbourne (2732 m a.s.l.) to the north. Investigation methods included geomorphological surveys and geoelectrical soundings as well as crystallography, chemical and isotopic analyses of the ground ice. Geomorphological surveys helped to explain the relationships between periglacial landforms (e.g. rock glaciers and patterned ground) and the glacial history of the area. Geoelectrical soundings allowed us to define different ground-ice units in the ice-free areas. Each unit was characterised by a different type of permafrost (dry or ice-poor permafrost, marine or continental massive buried ice and sub-sea permafrost). To identify the nature of ground ice, trenches were dug and some shallow boreholes were drilled to a maximum depth of-3.6 m in massive buried ice. Samples of both ice-poor permafrost and massive ice were collected and analyzed. Chemical, isotopic δ18O and crystal analyses were also carried out. The relationships between climate and thermal regimes of the active layer and the upper part of permafrost were determined using a monitoring station for ground temperatures at Boulder Clay Glacier, near the Italian Antarctic station. During winter, there were several significant thermal-inversion events in the ground, which cannot be explained only by air-temperature changes, suggesting a possible influence of winter snowfall, even if these events are usually considered very rare.

Studying the human dimensions of wildlife management issues is now considered to be an essential component of wildlife research. This study examined the Living with Possums policy in Victoria, Australia, in terms of the policy?s success in educating the community and ensuring community compliance. Postal surveys and telephone interviews were conducted across three samples from Greater Melbourne. These samples included people who had experiences with possums on their property (n = 340), veterinary clinics (n = 45) and the general public (n = 103). Significant levels of non-compliance were uncovered, highlighting the need for a renewed public education campaign to take place along with a continued interest in this issue from government agencies and councils. The study also revealed discrepancies between the policy and public preferences for possum management, suggesting that a shift in the recommended management technique may be warranted.

AbstractObjectiveTo describe associations between demographic and individual and area-level socio-economic variables and restricted household food access due to lack of money, inability to lift groceries and lack of access to a car to do food shopping.DesignMultilevel study of three measures of restricted food access, i.e. running out of money to buy food, inability to lift groceries and lack of access to a car for food shopping. Multilevel logistic regression was conducted to examine the risk of each of these outcomes according to demographic and socio-economic variables.SettingRandom selection of households from fifty small areas in Melbourne, Australia, in 2003.SubjectsThe main food shoppers in each household (n 2564).ResultsA lack of money was significantly more likely among the young and in households with single adults. Difficultly lifting was more likely among the elderly and those born overseas. The youngest and highest age groups both reported reduced car access, as did those born overseas and single-adult households. All three factors were most likely among those with a lower individual or household socio-economic position. Increased levels of area disadvantage were independently associated with difficultly lifting and reduced car access.ConclusionsIn Melbourne, households with lower individual socio-economic position and area disadvantage have restricted access to food because of a lack of money and/or having physical limitations due difficulty lifting or lack of access to a car for food shopping. Further research is required to explore the relationship between physical restrictions and food access.

There is strong consensus about the importance of early childhood development (ECD) for improving population health and closing the health inequity gap. Environmental features and public policies across sectors and jurisdictions are known to influence ECD. International comparisons provide valuable opportunities to better understand the impact of these ecological determinants on ECD. This study compared ECD outcomes between metropolitan Melbourne (Australia) and Montreal (Canada), and contrasted disparities across demographic and socioeconomic characteristics. Methods: Population wide surveys using the Early Development Instrument (EDI) were conducted among 4–6 years-old children in both Montreal and Melbourne in 2012, measuring five domains of ECD: 1-Physical Health/Well-Being (PHYS); 2-Social Competence (SOC); 3-Emotional Maturity (EMOT); 4-Language/Cognitive Development (COGN); and 5-Communication Skills/General Knowledge (COMM). Descriptive analyses of summary EDI indicators and domain indicators (including median scores and interquartile ranges) were compared between metropolitan areas, using their respective 95% confident intervals (CIs). Analyses were performed using Stata software (v14). Results: The proportion of children developmentally vulnerable in at least one domain of ECD was 26.8% (95% CIs: 26.2, 27.3) in Montreal vs. 19.2% (95% CIs: 18.8, 19.5) in Melbourne. The Melbourne advantage was greatest for EMOT and COGN (11.5% vs. 6.9%; 13.0% vs. 5.8%). In both Montreal and Melbourne, boys, immigrants, children not speaking the language of the majority at home, and those living in the most deprived areas were at greater risk of being developmentally vulnerable. Relative risks as a function of home language and area-level deprivation subgroups were smaller in Montreal than in Melbourne. Conclusion: This study shows that Melbourne’s children globally experience better ECD outcomes than Montreal’s children, but that inequity gaps are greater in Melbourne for language and area-level deprivation subgroups. Further research is warranted to identify the environmental factors, policies, and programs that account for these observed differences.

Objective: The COVID-19 pandemic may cause a major mental health impact. We aimed to identify demographic or clinical factors associated with psychiatric admissions where COVID-19 was attributed to contribute to mental state, compared to admissions which did not. Methods: A retrospective cohort study was undertaken of inpatients admitted to Northern Psychiatric Unit 1, Northern Hospital in Melbourne, Victoria, Australia during 27/02/2020 to 08/07/2020. Data were extracted for participants who identified COVID-19 as a stressor compared to participants who did not. Fisher’s exact test and Mann-Whitley rank sum test were used. Results: Thirty six of 242 inpatients reported the COVID-19 pandemic contributed to mental ill health and subsequent admission. Reasons given included social isolation, generalized distress about the pandemic, barriers to support services, disruption to daily routine, impact on employment, media coverage, re-traumatization, cancelled ECT sessions, loss of loved ones, and increased drug use during the lockdown. Chronic medical conditions or psychiatric multimorbidity were positively associated and smoking status was negatively associated with reporting the COVID-19 pandemic as a contributor to mental ill health. Conclusion: Screening and identifying vulnerable populations during and after the global disaster is vital for timely and appropriate interventions to reduce the impact of the pandemic worldwide.

AbstractGeomorphological and glacial geological surveys and multiple cosmogenic nuclide analyses (10Be, 26Al, and 21Ne) allowed us to reconstruct the chronology of variations prior to the last glacial maximum of the East Antarctic Ice Sheet (EAIS) and valley glaciers in the Terra Nova Bay region. Glacially scoured coastal piedmonts with round-topped mountains occur below the highest local erosional trimline. They represent relict landscape features eroded by extensive ice overriding the whole coastal area before at least 6 Ma (pre-dating the build-up of the Mt. Melbourne volcanic field). Since then, summit surfaces were continuously exposed and well preserved under polar condition with negligible erosion rates on the order of 17 cm/Ma. Complex older drifts rest on deglaciated areas above the younger late-Pleistocene glacial drift and below the previously overridden summits. The combination of stable and radionuclide isotopes documents complex exposure histories with substantial periods of burial combined with minimal erosion. The areas below rounded summits were repeatedly exposed and buried by ice from local and outlet glaciers. The exposure ages of the older drift(s) indicate multiple Pleistocene glacial cycles, which did not significantly modify the pre-existing landscape.

ABSTRACTBackground: This paper describes the evaluation of the Memory Lane Café service in Victoria, Australia. The Alzheimer's Australia Vic Memory Lane Café model aims to provide a social and educational service to people living with dementia and their carers, family members or friends. Dementia is a serious health issue in Australia, with prevalence estimated at 6.5% of people over 65 years of age. Living with dementia has significant social and psychological ramifications, often negatively affecting quality of life. Social support groups can improve quality of life for people living with dementia.Methods: The evaluation included focus groups and surveys of people with dementia and their carers, staff consultation, service provider interviews, and researcher observation. The Melbourne Health Mental Health Human Research Ethics Committee approved the project. Participants included people with dementia (aged 60 to 93 years, previously enrolled in the Alzheimer's Australia Vic's six-week Living With Memory Loss Program), their carers, friends and/or family members, staff working in the Cafés, and service providers with links to the Cafés.Results: This evaluation found that Memory Lane Cafés promote social inclusion, prevent isolation, and improve the social and emotional well-being of attendees. However, Cafés did not meet the needs of all potential attendees.Conclusions: The evaluation recommended that existing Café services be continued and possibilities for extending the Cafés be explored. Based on evaluation outcomes, the Department of Health Victoria is funding four additional pilot programs in café style support services.

Introduction: Worldwide, increases in unprotected anal intercourse have been linked to the resurgence in HIV and STI in gay men. We assessed whether changes in UAI within regular and casual relationships may explain the diverging trends in HIV in three Australian states - NSW, Victoria and Queensland. Methods: We used the data from the annual cross-sectional Gay Community Periodic Surveys conducted annually in Sydney since 1996 and in Melbourne and Queensland since 1998. A short self-administered questionnaire asks about HIV serostatus, sexual health testing and behaviours relevant to HIV epidemic. We present time trends in seroconcordance and unprotected sex with regular and casual partners. Results: Currently, about one third of gay men report being in monogamous regular relationships, and this proportion has been slowly increasing everywhere. The self-reported UAI with regular partners (UAIR) was highest among men in seroconcordant positive relationships, lower among seroconcordant negative partners and lowest in non seroconcordant relationships. From 1998 to 2006, the rates of UAIR consistently increased by 10% in all three states and in all relationships by serostatus. The rates of UAI with casual partners (UAIC) were historically highest in NSW. From a peak in 2001, UAIC rates have consistently declined in NSW, but continuing increases were observed in Victoria and Queensland. Higher rates of nondisclosure of HIV were also observed in the context of UAIC in the latter two states. Conclusion: Changes in unprotected sex with casual partners may be responsible for the slowing of HIV epidemic in NSW. Sustained investment in policies and programs are important in achieving behaviour change.

Background On 26 July 2016, Victoria began a large study of HIV pre-exposure prophylaxis, called PrEPX, that involved the creation of around 2600 appointments over 3 months across multiple sites in Melbourne, Australia. At this time, the Melbourne Sexual Health Centre (MSHC) appeared to have a larger demand on its services. The aim of the present study was to determine whether this apparent increase in demand was substantially different from other demand fluctuations. Methods: Patients presenting to the MSHC from 2014 to 2016 were reviewed. Demographic characteristics, sexual risks and sexually transmitted infection diagnoses were extracted from the clinical database. Results: There were 115522 walk-in presentations for care and a rise in presentations in the week following the launch of the PrEPX study, but at least six similar peaks occurred that year. The peak coinciding with the launch of PrEPX was only apparent for men who have sex with men. There was a substantial increase in the proportion of patients who could not be seen (i.e. triaged out), from 10% in the week before PrEPX to 22.2% in the second week after, but this was primarily due to staff absences. At the time of the PrEPX study, data were collected on the duration of symptoms for common conditions and found no significant (P&gt;0.29) change in the average duration of symptoms compared with that seen before the PrEPX launch. Conclusions: The increase in the number of medical consultations required for the PrEPX study did not result in excessive demand for public sexual health services.

ABSTRACTSince 2000, cases of the neglected tropical disease Buruli ulcer, caused by infection withMycobacterium ulcerans, have increased 100-fold around Melbourne (population 4.4 million), the capital of Victoria, in temperate southeastern Australia. The reasons for this increase are unclear. Here, we used whole-genome sequence comparisons of 178M. ulceransisolates obtained primarily from human clinical specimens, spanning 70 years, to model the population dynamics of this pathogen from this region. Using phylogeographic and advanced Bayesian phylogenetic approaches, we found that there has been a migration of the pathogen from the east end of the state, beginning in the 1980s, 300 km west to the major human population center around Melbourne. This move was then followed by a significant increase inM. ulceranspopulation size. These analyses inform our thinking around Buruli ulcer transmission and control, indicating thatM. ulceransis introduced to a new environment and then expands, rather than it being from the awakening of a quiescent pathogen reservoir.IMPORTANCEBuruli ulcer is a destructive skin and soft tissue infection caused byMycobacterium ulceransand is characterized by progressive skin ulceration, which can lead to permanent disfigurement and long-term disability. Despite the majority of disease burden occurring in regions of West and central Africa, Buruli ulcer is also becoming increasingly common in southeastern Australia. Major impediments to controlling disease spread are incomplete understandings of the environmental reservoirs and modes of transmission ofM. ulcerans. The significance of our research is that we used genomics to assess the population structure of this pathogen at the Australian continental scale. We have then reconstructed a historical bacterial spread and modeled demographic dynamics to reveal bacterial population expansion across southeastern Australia. These findings provide explanations for the observed epidemiological trends with Buruli ulcer and suggest possible management to control disease spread.

Issues of language shift (LS) and language maintenance (LM) are inevitable consequences of globalization and increased mobility of human populations. This qualitative case study investigated attitudes of migrant parents from Iran towards Persian community language maintenance (CLM) for their school-age children in Australia. Ten parents residing in Melbourne, Victoria were interviewed in two groups and demographic data were collected. The participants were seven female and three male parents who had at least one school-age child. In this qualitative case study, data were analyzed thematically. Three major themes concerning Persian CLM were identified: parents’ attitudes, strategies adopted for maintenance, and challenges for their children. The parents believed that CLM supported cultural identity, preserved family cohesion, and fostered bilingualism, all of which were considered valuable future skills for their children. Interviewees adopted diverse strategies including the establishment of family language use policies, sending their children to Iranian community language school, frequent contacts with extended family in Iran, and the use of Persian media and literature. The influential role of siblings and peers in their children’s language shift, and a lack of age-appropriate Persian books and visual materials were the main challenges to CLM mentioned by the parents in this research.

Background Persons with submicroscopic malaria infection are a major reservoir of gametocytes that sustain malaria transmission in sub-Saharan Africa. Despite recent decreases in the national malaria burden in Kenya due to vector control interventions, malaria transmission continues to be high in western regions of the country bordering Lake Victoria. The objective of this study was to advance knowledge of the topographical, demographic and behavioral risk factors associated with submicroscopic malaria infection in the Lake Victoria basin in Kisumu County. Methods Cross-sectional community surveys for malaria infection were undertaken in three eco-epidemiologically distinct zones in Nyakach sub-County, Kisumu. Adjacent regions were topologically characterized as lakeshore, hillside and highland plateau. Surveys were conducted during the 2019 and 2020 wet and dry seasons. Finger prick blood smears and dry blood spots (DBS) on filter paper were collected from 1,777 healthy volunteers for microscopic inspection and real time-PCR (RT-PCR) diagnosis of Plasmodium infection. Persons who were PCR positive but blood smear negative were considered to harbor submicroscopic infections. Topographical, demographic and behavioral risk factors were correlated with community prevalence of submicroscopic infections. Results Out of a total of 1,777 blood samples collected, 14.2% (253/1,777) were diagnosed as submicroscopic infections. Blood smear microscopy and RT-PCR, respectively, detected 3.7% (66/1,777) and 18% (319/1,777) infections. Blood smears results were exclusively positive for P. falciparum, whereas RT-PCR also detected P. malariae and P. ovale mono- and co-infections. Submicroscopic infection prevalence was associated with topographical variation (χ2 = 39.344, df = 2, p<0.0001). The highest prevalence was observed in the lakeshore zone (20.6%, n = 622) followed by the hillside (13.6%, n = 595) and highland plateau zones (7.9%, n = 560). Infection prevalence varied significantly according to season (χ2 = 17.374, df = 3, p<0.0001). The highest prevalence was observed in residents of the lakeshore zone in the 2019 dry season (29.9%, n = 167) and 2020 and 2019 rainy seasons (21.5%, n = 144 and 18.1%, n = 155, respectively). In both the rainy and dry seasons the likelihood of submicroscopic infection was higher in the lakeshore (AOR: 2.71, 95% CI = 1.85–3.95; p<0.0001) and hillside (AOR: 1.74, 95% CI = 1.17–2.61, p = 0.007) than in the highland plateau zones. Residence in the lakeshore zone (p<0.0001), male sex (p = 0.025), school age (p = 0.002), and living in mud houses (p = 0.044) increased the risk of submicroscopic malaria infection. Bed net use (p = 0.112) and occupation (p = 0.116) were not associated with submicroscopic infection prevalence. Conclusion Topographic features of the local landscape and seasonality are major correlates of submicroscopic malaria infection in the Lake Victoria area of western Kenya. Diagnostic tests more sensitive than blood smear microscopy will allow for monitoring and targeting geographic sites where additional vector interventions are needed to reduce malaria transmission.

Migori County is located in western Kenya bordering Lake Victoria and has traditionally performed poorly on important health metrics, including child mortality and HIV prevalence. The Lwala Community Alliance is a non-governmental organization that serves to promote the health and well-being of communities in Migori County through an innovative model utilizing community health workers, community committees, and high-quality facility-based care. This has led to improved outcomes in areas served, including improvements in childhood mortality. As the Lwala Community Alliance expands to new programming areas, it has partnered with multiple academic institutions to rigorously evaluate outcomes. We describe a repeated cross-sectional survey study to evaluate key health metrics in both areas served by the Lwala Community Alliance and comparison areas. This will allow for longitudinal evaluation of changes in metrics over time. Surveys will be administered by trained enumerators on a tablet-based platform to maintain high data quality.

Objectives: Evaluate diagnostic accuracy and feasibility of a mail-out home oximetry kit. Design: Patients were referred for both the tertiary/quaternary-centre hospital-delivered oximetry (HDO) and for the mail-out remotely-delivered oximetry (RDO). Quantitative and qualitative data were collected. The COVID-19 pandemic began during this study; therefore, necessary methodological adjustments were implemented. Setting: Patients were first evaluated in Swan Hill, Victoria. RDO kits were sent to home addresses. For the HDO, patients travelled to the Melbourne city area, received the kit, stayed overnight, and returned the kit the following morning. Participants: All consecutive paediatric patients (aged 2–18), diagnosed by a specialist in Swan Hill with obstructive sleep apnoea (OSA) on history/examination, and booked for tonsillectomy +/− adenoidectomy, were recruited. Main outcome measures: Diagnostic accuracy (i.e., comparison of RDO to HDO results) and test delivery time (i.e., days from consent signature to oximetry delivery) were recorded. Patient travel distances for HDO collection were calculated using home/delivery address postcodes and Google® Maps data. Qualitative data were collected with two digital follow-up surveys. Results: All 32 patients that had both the HDO and RDO had identical oximetry results. The HDO mean delivery time was 87.7 days, while the RDO mean delivery time was 23.6 days (p value: <0.001). Qualitatively, 3/28 preferred the HDO, while 25/28 preferred the RDO (n = 28). Conclusions: The remote option is as accurate as the hospital option, strongly preferred by patients, more rapidly completed, and also an ideal investigation delivery method during certain emergencies, such as the COVID-19 pandemic.

The United Nations’ Sustainable Development Goal 3 is to ensure health and well-being for all at all ages with a specific target to end malaria by 2030. Aligned with this goal, the primary objective of this study is to determine the effectiveness of utilizing local spatial variations to uncover the statistical relationships between malaria incidence rate and environmental and behavioral factors across the counties of Kenya. Two data sources are used—Kenya Demographic and Health Surveys of 2000, 2005, 2010, and 2015, and the national Malaria Indicator Survey of 2015. The spatial analysis shows clustering of counties with high malaria incidence rate, or hot spots, in the Lake Victoria region and the east coastal area around Mombasa; there are significant clusters of counties with low incidence rate, or cold spot areas in Nairobi. We apply an analysis technique, geographically weighted regression, that helps to better model how environmental and social determinants are related to malaria incidence rate while accounting for the confounding effects of spatial non-stationarity. Some general patterns persist over the four years of observation. We establish that variables including rainfall, proximity to water, vegetation, and population density, show differential impacts on the incidence of malaria in Kenya. The El-Nino–southern oscillation (ENSO) event in 2015 was significant in driving up malaria in the southern region of Lake Victoria compared with prior time-periods. The applied spatial multivariate clustering analysis indicates the significance of social and behavioral survey responses. This study can help build a better spatially explicit predictive model for malaria in Kenya capturing the role and spatial distribution of environmental, social, behavioral, and other characteristics of the households.

Objective: To describe the attributes and key findings from implementation of a new blood-borne virus (BBV) and sexually transmissible infection (STI) sentinel surveillance system based on routine testing at clinical sites in Victoria, Australia. Methods: The Victorian Primary Care Network for Sentinel Surveillance (VPCNSS) on BBV and STI was established in 2006 at 17 sites. Target populations included men who have sex with men (MSM), young people and injecting drug users (IDU). Sites collected demographic and risk behaviour information electronically or using paper surveys from patients undergoing routine HIV or STI (syphilis, chlamydia (Chlamydia trachomatis)) or hepatitis C virus (HCV) testing. These data were linked with laboratory results. Results: Between April 2006 and June 2008, data were received for 67 466 tests and 52 042 questionnaires. In clinics providing electronic data, >90% of individuals tested for HIV, syphilis and chlamydia had risk behaviour information collected. In other clinics, survey response rates were >85% (HIV), 43.5% (syphilis), 42.7–66.5% (chlamydia) and <20% (HCV). Data completeness was >85% for most core variables. Over time, HIV, syphilis and chlamydia testing increased in MSM, and chlamydia testing declined in females (P = 0.05). The proportion of positive tests among MSM was 1.9% for HIV and 2.1% for syphilis. Among 16–24-year-olds, the proportion positive for chlamydia was 10.7% in males and 6.9% in females. Among IDU, 19.4% of HCV tests were antibody positive. Conclusions: The VPCNSS has collected a large, rich dataset through which testing, risk behaviours and the proportion positive can be monitored in high-risk groups, offering a more comprehensive BBV and STI surveillance system for Victoria. Building system sustainability requires an ongoing focus.

AbstractPrevious work focused on allozymes and mitochondrial haplotypes has detected high levels of genetic variability betweenCryptopygus terranovuspopulations, a springtail species endemic to Antarctica, until recently namedGressittacantha terranova. This study expands these biogeographical surveys using additional analytical techniques, providing a denser haplotype dataset and a wider sampling of localities. Specimens were collected from 11 sites across Victoria Land and sequenced for the cytochromecoxidase subunit I mitochondrial gene (cox1). Haplotypes were used for population genetics, demographic, molecular clock and Bayesian phylogenetic analyses. Landscape distribution and clustering of haplotypes were also examined for the first time in this species. Only three (out of 67) haplotypes are shared among populations, suggesting high genetic structure and limited gene flow between sites. As in previous studies, the population of Apostrophe Island has a closer genetic similarity with those of the central sites, rather than with its neighbours. Molecular clock estimates point to early differentiation of haplotypes in the late/mid-Miocene, also supporting the view thatC. terranovusis a relict species that survived on the Antarctic continent during the Last Glacial Maximum. The present genetic composition of populations represents a mixture of ancient and more recent haplotypes, sometimes occurring in the same localities.

ObjectivesThere is an urgent need to improve breast feeding rates for Australian First Nations (Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander) infants. We explored breast feeding outcomes of women having a First Nations infant at three sites that introduced a culturally specific continuity of midwife care model.DesignWomen having a First Nations infant booking for pregnancy care between March 2017 and November 2020 were invited to participate. Surveys at recruitment and 3 months post partum were developed with input from the First Nations Advisory Committee. We explored breast feeding intention, initiation, maintenance and reasons for stopping and factors associated with breast feeding.SettingThree tertiary maternity services in Melbourne, Australia.ParticipantsOf 479/926 eligible women approached, 343 (72%) completed the recruitment survey, and 213/343 (62%) the postnatal survey.OutcomesPrimary: breast feeding initiation and maintenance. Secondary: breast feeding intention and reasons for stopping breast feeding.ResultsMost women (298, 87%) received the culturally specific model. Breast feeding initiation (96%, 95% CI 0.93 to 0.98) was high. At 3 months, 71% were giving ‘any’ (95% CI 0.65 to 0.78) and 48% were giving ‘only’ breast milk (95% CI 0.41 to 0.55). Intending to breast feed 6 months (Adj OR ‘any’: 2.69, 95% CI 1.29 to 5.60; ‘only’: 2.22, 95% CI 1.20 to 4.12), and not smoking in pregnancy (Adj OR ‘any’: 2.48, 95% CI 1.05 to 5.86; ‘only’: 4.05, 95% CI 1.54 to 10.69) were associated with higher odds. Lower education (Adj OR ‘any’: 0.36, 95% CI 0.13 to 0.98; ‘only’: 0.50, 95% CI 0.26 to 0.96) and government benefits as the main household income (Adj OR ‘any’: 0.26, 95% CI 0.11 to 0.58) with lower odds.ConclusionsBreast feeding rates were high in the context of service-wide change. Our findings strengthen the evidence that culturally specific continuity models improve breast feeding outcomes for First Nations women and infants. We recommend implementing and upscaling First Nations specific midwifery continuity models within mainstream hospitals in Australia as a strategy to improve breast feeding.

Fyke netting is currently the method mainly used to describe the demographic attributes of platypus (Ornithorhynchus anatinus) populations occupying relatively shallow, flowing water bodies. Based on fieldwork carried out in Victoria from 1995 to 2010, fyke netting surveys conducted in the month when the highest frequency of nightly captures was recorded (July) resulted in nearly three times as many adults and subadults entering nets as compared with those scheduled in the months when the fewest nightly captures were recorded (April and May). Significant sex-specific variation was apparent in relation to monthly capture frequencies: males were captured most often in August (the start of the breeding season), whereas females were captured most often in January (the peak period of lactation). The frequency of platypus captures also varied significantly when considered on a nocturnal time scale, with 63% of adult and subadult captures and 73% of juvenile captures being recorded in the first half of the night. Both juveniles (<11 months) and older animals also showed a significant tendency to travel upstream in the first half of the night. These potential sources of bias in datasets need to be considered when analysing and comparing the results of platypus fyke netting studies.

Background Non-occupational post-exposure prophylaxis (NPEP) is available to people with a potential risk for HIV exposure within the preceding 72 h. We sought to determine if men who have sex with men (MSM) and receive NPEP had a significantly different risk profile (before the preceding 72 h) from MSM not receiving NPEP. If this is the case, NPEP consultations may act as a cue for also discussing pre-exposure prophylaxis. Methods: We conducted a retrospective analysis to compare the demographic characteristics, sexual practices and clinical diagnoses of MSM who were NPEP users and those who were non-NPEP users attending Melbourne Sexual Health Centre from January 2008 to December 2014. Univariate and multivariate logistic regression models were used to examine the association between NPEP use and risk practices. Generalised estimating equations were used to adjust for within-individual correlations related to multiple visits of the same individual. Results: Of the 40 395 MSM consultations included in the study, 1776 consultations (4%) were related to NPEP prescription. NPEP prescribing was associated with ever having injected drugs (adjusted odds ratio (AOR) 1.8, 95% confidence interval (CI): 1.4–2.3), sex with males only (AOR 1.9, 95% CI: 1.6–2.3), more than three male partners in the past 3 months (AOR 1.5, 95% CI: 1.4–1.7) and inconsistent condom use with these partners within the past 3 months (AOR 2.1, 95% CI: 1.9–2.4). Sex workers (AOR 0.6, 95% CI: 0.3–0.9), and men reporting sex overseas within the past 12 months (AOR 0.7, 95% CI: 0.6–0.8) were less likely to receive NPEP. MSM who used NPEP were more likely to test positive for any sexually transmissible infection (AOR 1.2, 95% CI: 1.0–1.4). Conclusions: MSM receiving NPEP generally had a higher risk profile than MSM not requesting NPEP, indicating that NPEP was used by MSM at higher risk for HIV. Therefore, consultations for NPEP may be an opportune time for also discussing pre-exposure prophylaxis for HIV.

IntroductionThe sexually transmitted infection chlamydia can cause significant complications, particularly among people with female reproductive organs. Optimal management includes timely and appropriate treatment, notifying and treating sexual partners, timely retesting for reinfection and detecting complications including pelvic inflammatory disease (PID). In Australia, mainstream primary care (general practice) is where most chlamydia infections are diagnosed, making it a key setting for optimising chlamydia management. High reinfection and low retesting rates suggest partner notification and retesting are not uniformly provided. The Management of Chlamydia Cases in Australia (MoCCA) study seeks to address gaps in chlamydia management in Australian general practice through implementing interventions shown to improve chlamydia management in specialist services. MoCCA will focus on improving retesting, partner management (including patient-delivered partner therapy) and PID diagnosis.Methods and analysisMoCCA is a non-randomised implementation and feasibility trial aiming to determine how best to implement interventions to support general practice in delivering best practice chlamydia management. Our method is guided by the Consolidated Framework for Implementation Research and the Normalisation Process Theory. MoCCA interventions include a website, flow charts, fact sheets, mailed specimen kits and autofills to streamline chlamydia consultation documentation. We aim to recruit 20 general practices across three Australian states (Victoria, New South Wales, Queensland) through which we will implement the interventions over 12–18 months. Mixed methods involving qualitative and quantitative data collection and analyses (observation, interviews, surveys) from staff and patients will be undertaken to explore our intervention implementation, acceptability and uptake. Deidentified general practice and laboratory data will be used to measure pre-post chlamydia testing, retesting, reinfection and PID rates, and to estimate MoCCA intervention costs. Our findings will guide scale-up plans for Australian general practice.Ethics and disseminationEthics approval was obtained from The University of Melbourne Human Research Ethics Committee (Ethics ID: 22665). Findings will be disseminated via conference presentations, peer-reviewed publications and study reports.

Abstract Background Hospital clinicians report poor psychosocial well-being during the COVID-19 pandemic. Few studies have reported data at more than one time point. Aims To compare psychosocial well-being among hospital clinicians at two different time points during the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020. Methods Participants included doctors, nurses, midwives and allied health clinicians at a multi-site, public health service in Melbourne, Australia. Data were collected via two cross-sectional, online surveys: May to June (wave 1; n = 638) and October to December 2020 (wave 2; n = 358). The Depression, Anxiety and Stress Scale (DASS-21) assessed psychological well-being in the past week. Investigator-devised questions assessed COVID-19 concerns and perceived work impacts. General linear models were used to assess impact of wave on psychological distress. Results There were no significant demographic differences between the two groups. Both positive (e.g. learning experience) and negative (e.g. risk of getting COVID-19) impacts were reported. In both waves, staff were most concerned about health risks to family members. Wave 2 respondents were significantly more likely than wave 1 respondents to indicate concerns about colleagues having COVID-19, increased workloads, leave cancellation and increased conflict at work (all P &lt; 0.001). Adjusting for sex, age, self-rated health and discipline group, depression, anxiety and stress scores were significantly higher for respondents in the second than the first wave (all P &lt; 0.001). Conclusions Psychological well-being of hospital clinicians was significantly worse during the second wave of the COVID-19 pandemic than the first. Sustained occupational and psychosocial support is recommended even when immediate COVID-19 concerns and impacts resolve.

AbstractIntroductionComprehensive studies on the relationship between patient demographics and subsequent treatment and disposition at a single mass-gathering event are lacking. The Sydney Royal Easter Show (SRES; Sydney Olympic Park, New South Wales, Australia) is an annual, 14-day, agricultural mass-gathering event occurring around the Easter weekend, attracting more than 800,000 patrons per year. In this study, patient records from the SRES were analyzed to examine relationships between weather, crowd size, day of week, and demographics on treatment and disposition. This information would help to predict factors affecting patient treatment and disposition to guide ongoing training of first responders and to evaluate the appropriateness of staffing skills mix at future events.HypothesisPatient demographics, environmental factors, and attendance would influence the nature and severity of presentations at the SRES, which would influence staffing requirements.MethodsA retrospective analysis of 4,141 patient record forms was performed for patients who presented to St John Ambulance (Australian Capital Territory, Australia) at the SRES between 2012 and 2014 inclusive. Presentation type was classified using a previously published minimum data set. Data on weather and crowd size were obtained from the Australian Bureau of Meteorology (Melbourne, Victoria, Australia) and the SRES, respectively. Statistical analyses were performed using SPSS v22 (IBM; Armonk, New York USA).ResultsBetween 2012 to 2014, over 2.5 million people attended the SRES with 4,141 patients treated onsite. As expected, the majority of presentations were injuries (49%) and illnesses (46%). Although patient demographics and presentation types did not change over time, the duration of treatment increased. A higher proportion of patients were discharged to hospital or home compared to the proportion of patients discharged back to the event. Patients from rural/regional locations (accounting for 15% of all patients) were more likely to require advanced treatment, health professional review, and were more likely to be discharged to hospital or home rather than discharged back to the event. Extremes of temperature were associated with a lower crowd size and higher patient presentation rate (PPR), but had no impact on transfer or referral rates to hospital.ConclusionThis study demonstrated that analyses of patient presentations at an agricultural show provide unique insights on weather, attendance, and demographic features that correlated with treatment and disposition. These data can help guide organizers with information on how to better staff and train health care providers at future mass-gathering events of this type.CrabtreeN,MoS,OngL,JegatheesT,WeiD,FaheyD,LiuJ.Retrospective analysis of patient presentations at the Sydney (Australia) Royal Easter Show from 2012 to 2014.Prehosp Disaster Med.2017;32(2)187–194.

Abstract Introduction TikTok is a rapidly growing social media platform that allows users to develop and share short videos. We hypothesized that a library of videos developed through TikTok (TikToks) would support the recruitment of committed hematopoietic stem cell donors from needed demographic groups (i.e. young, male, from diverse ancestries). Methods Members of the community of practice (CoP) in stem cell donor recruitment in Canada (facebook.com/groups/stemcellclub) were activated to develop TikToks. Training was provided during e-meetings of the CoP (8/2020, 1/2021, 5/2021) and in a video published online (stemcellclub.ca/training), highlighting the principles of effective TikTok design. These principles included the use of engaging hooks, music, and calls to action; short duration (&lt; 30s); high educational value; and appeal to diverse donors. The training also outlined how to: record content, adjust clip lengths, apply audiovisual effects, and share across social media platforms. A CoP TikTok committee was formed to develop and review TikToks prior to publication. Following launch, we evaluated stakeholder perspective on these TikToks and the impact 1) across social and traditional media and 2) on eligible donors' knowledge and attitudes towards donation. Results Between 9/2020-7/2021, a network of TikTok channels was launched by CoP members, including a national donor recruitment TikTok library (tiktok.com/@stemcellclub). A total of 217 TikToks were produced across these channels (median length 17s, range 4-52s), covering a range of educational topics, designed for use in specific recruitment campaigns, and featuring unique video effects (Fig. A). The TikToks accumulated over 234,000 Views, 42,000 Likes, 3,000 Comments, and 14,200 Shares on TikTok, were republished by Canadian media outlets (e.g. CBC [twitter.com/cbcnewsbc/status/1361511367426080773], CTV News [ctvnews.ca/health/meet-the-women-hoping-to-recruit-more-stem-cells-donors-from-black-communities-1.5314038, ctvnews.ca/health/pride-month-tiktok-drive-encourages-stem-cell-donations-from-gay-bi-men-1.5475113], Victoria News [vicnews.com/news/most-black-canadians-wont-find-a-stem-cell-donor-in-time-this-group-is-working-to-change-that]) and were highlighted by major medical organizations (e.g. Canadian Blood Services [blood.ca/en/stories/meet-stem-cell-club, blood.ca/en/stories/stem-cell-club-volunteers-aim-save-lives-pride-month-campaign], American Association of Blood Banks [aabb.org/news-resources/news/article/2021/02/01/twitter-tiktok-aabb-virtual-journal-club-assesses-use-of-multimedia-resources-for-donor-recruitment]). 33 CoP members from 6 provinces across Canada, with a median of 2 years of recruitment experience, completed a post-launch survey. The majority felt that TikToks promote donation in an attention-grabbing way (94%), engage younger donors (100%), and teach key points in a short time period (94%). The majority were confident in their ability to make TikToks (63%), but felt they would benefit from additional training (63%). 46 eligible stem cell donors (from 12 different non-Caucasian ancestral groups; living in 5 provinces across Canada) completed surveys evaluating the impact of TikToks on their knowledge and attitudes towards donation. No participants were registered as donors and only four had a personal connection to an individual who needed a stem cell transplant. After being shown a series of TikToks, mean scores on a 6-question stem cell donation knowledge test improved from 59% to 73% (p=0.0012) (Fig. B); mean scores on a modified Simmons Ambivalence Scale decreased from 52% to 30% (p&lt;0.0001) (Fig. C); and participants were more willing to register as donors (70% vs. 39%, p=0.0011). Participants reported that viewing TikToks positively impacted on their decision to register (87%), helped them understand stem cell donation (89%), and would help them talk about stem cell donation with friends/family (78%). Conclusions We report the first published experience using TikToks in a donor recruitment context. Our TikToks achieved significant social and traditional impact in a short period of time, and supported recruitment of committed stem cell donors from needed demographic groups. Our work is relevant to recruitment organizations worldwide seeking to modernize their recruitment approaches. Figure 1 Figure 1. Disclosures No relevant conflicts of interest to declare.

AbstractBackground and purposePain is a common symptom associated with multiple sclerosis (MS), and has lasting effects on an individual’s functional capacity and quality of life. A wide range of prevalence rates of pain (between 23% and 90%)have been reported in MS and this is mainly due to the methodological differences amongst the studies such as variability in patient sources, method of sampling and the definition of pain used. Chronic pain in MS, defined as pain lasting for greater than 3–6 months, can have a significant impact on their biopsychosocial health, including negative impact on activities of daily living, relationships and social participation. The long-term course of MS-related pain and its impact in an Australian cohort over a 7-year period has been investigated earlier. The aim of this longitudinal study was to describe the impact of chronic pain, pain-related disability and carer burden in persons with MS over a 10-year period. The aim of this longitudinal study was to describe the impact of chronic pain, pain-related disability and carer burden in persons with MS over a 10-year period.MethodsThis was a prospective longitudinal study conducted at the Rehabilitation Department of Royal Melbourne Hospital (RMH), a tertiary referral hospital in Victoria and Australia. The source of participants was from the RMH MS database and contains detailed MS patient information including demographic data, diagnosis details (using McDonald’s criteria), pain characteristics. Structured face-face interviews and validated measures were used, which include the visual analogue scale (VAS); chronic pain grade (CPG); the assessment of quality of life (AQoL) and the carer strain index (CSI). The mean age of the participants (n = 70) was 55.3 years and majority (70%) were female.ResultsThe mean age of the participants (n = 70) was 55.3 years and majority (70%) were female. The findings show that over time (10 years), participants report having greater bilateral bodily pain and greater description of pain as ‘worse as it could be’. Pain types were similar to 7-years follow-up but remained higher than baseline. There was a significant deterioration in quality of life in those with more severe CPG over time. Almost half of the participants 31 (44%) required care either from a private carer, institution or from a family member. Although fear of taking medications and side effects were common barriers to treatment for pain, there was an increase in the use of pharmacological treatment over time and an increase in the use of healthcare services, mainly neurologists and general practitioners.ConclusionsThe pain measures reported by the participants were similar to those at the 7-year follow-up except there was a greater representation of bilateral pain locations (limb, trunk and facial pain) compared to baseline and 7-year follow-up. At 10-year follow-up, more participants used medications compared tc 7-year follow-up and there was an increase in the use of health professionals at the 10-year follow-up At the 10-year follow up QoL of the participants deteriorated significantly and more participants had progressed to higher CPGIII and CPGIV. This study demonstrates that chronic pain is a significant issue over time in MS, with clinical and health implications, impact on quality of life, disability and healthcare utilization.ImplicationsGreater awareness of chronic pain in pwMS, cognitive classifications and an interdisciplinary approach is required to improve long-term patient outcomes and well-being.Crown Copyright © 2017 Published by Elsevier B.V. on behalf of Scandinavian Association for the Study of Pain. All rights reserved.

John Davies Thomas (1844–1893) described a two-ounce drop-bottle for chloroform in 1872 while he was a resident medical officer at University College Hospital, London. After working as a ship’s surgeon, he settled in Australia. In May 1875, Thomas presented a paper on the mortality from ether and chloroform at a meeting of the Medical Society of Victoria in Melbourne, Victoria. Surveys conducted in Europe and North America had established that the mortality from chloroform was eight to ten times higher than that from ether. At that time, chloroform was the most widely administered anaesthetic in Australia. Thomas’ paper was published in The Australian Medical Journal and reprinted by the Medical Society of Victoria for distribution to hospitals in the Colony of Victoria. Later that year, Thomas moved to Adelaide, South Australia, where he may have been influential at the Adelaide Hospital in ensuring that ether was administered more often than chloroform. It does not appear that Thomas’ papers on anaesthesia had a significant effect on the conduct of anaesthesia in Victoria or New South Wales.

This paper explores the use of English in Australia based on the perspectives of Indonesian students. Studies on perception, expectations, and strategies on social experience have been carried out. However, most of these studies have not established models that consider the relationship among the three elements of expectations, perceptions, and strategies of Indonesian students in the host country, particularly in Australia. This paper attempts to capture the holistic picture of English varieties in the Australian higher education context to draw upon the three elements. Demographic questionnaire surveys and semi-structured interviews were employed to obtain data from fifteen Indonesian students studying in three universities in Melbourne, Australia. This paper's findings suggested that Indonesian students' expectations, perceptions, and strategies varied due to limited awareness regarding English varieties, culture gaps between Australia and Indonesia, and the prominent role of individual self-reflection. It is hoped that this paper may shed light on people’s understanding of the challenges, experiences, and the general wellbeing of international students who choose to study in Australia for their tertiary education.

BackgroundThe hardening hypothesis predicts that as smoking prevalence declines, remaining smokers will be more heavily addicted to nicotine and/or less interested in quitting. We tested this hypothesis in a population exposed to a comprehensive tobacco control programme over a 16-year period.MethodsAnnual cross-sectional surveys randomly sampled adults (aged 26+) in the state of Victoria, Australia, between 2001 and 2016. Until 2010, participants were recruited through random digit dialling to landline telephones; from 2011, sampling frames also included mobile phones. Logistic regressions assessed changes over time in the prevalence of smoking and each hardening indicator; additional models examined interactions by sex, age, education and socioeconomic status.ResultsSmoking prevalence declined significantly between 2001 and 2016 (20.1%–13.0%), as did the prevalence of seven hardening indicators: daily smoking, heavy consumption, no quit attempt in the past 5 years or past 12 months, no intention to quit in the next 6 months or next 30 days, and happiness to keep smoking. In addition, the proportion of smokers defined as ‘hardcore’ decreased from 17.2% to 9.1%. On the whole, hardening indicators decreased to a similar extent among demographic subgroups.ConclusionsThese results are inconsistent with the hardening hypothesis. Rather, they suggest that a comprehensive tobacco control programme that combines provision of cessation support to individual smokers with implementation of population-level interventions to drive all smokers towards quitting, can successfully reduce both smoking prevalence and levels of dependence and desire to keep smoking among the remaining population of smokers.

Recreational fishing is a popular pastime and multibillion dollar industry in Australia, playing a key economic role, especially in regional areas. In the State of Victoria, Port Phillip Bay (PPB), bordered by Melbourne and its suburbs, is the largest of the State’s marine recreational fisheries. At present, little is known about the spatial and temporal dimensions of angler travel from origins to destinations, and the applicability of such spatial knowledge in fisheries management. To address this lack of information we assessed spatiotemporal dynamics and patterns in fishing trips, based upon travel distances on land and water, to acquire insight into the spatial ranges over which anglers residing in various locations travel to fishing destinations in the environs of PPB. Data for each angler per fishing trip, from 6,035 boat-based creel surveys, collected at 20 boat ramps in PPB during a 10-year period from 2010 to 2019, were analyzed by applying geospatial modeling. Differences were observed in both land and water travel distance by region and popular target species, with anglers who launched from Bellarine region traveling further on land, and those who targeted snapper traveling further on water. It was also evident that most anglers resided within close proximity of PPB, often less than 50 km, although some anglers traveled long distances across the State to access fishing locations, particularly when targeting snapper. This work further highlights the importance of spatially explicit approaches to inform fisheries management by identifying users across different landscape and seascape scales, and out-of-region or State fishing trips, which may especially impact coastal communities and benefit local businesses.

Abstract Introduction 'No Jab, No Play' and 'No Jab, No Pay' mandatory immunisation policies were introduced in the state of Victoria and Australia nationally in January 2016. They restrict access to childcare/kindergarten and family assistance payments respectively, for under-vaccinated children. We aimed to describe the proportion of attendees to immunisation services of a tertiary hospital, the Royal Children's Hospital Melbourne (RCH), who were motivated by the policies to discuss or catch up vaccination. We also explored the association between policy motivation, vaccine hesitancy (VH) and intent to seek medical exemption, with vaccine-uptake. Referrals to the Specialist Immunisation Clinic (SIC) were also reviewed. Methods Parents/Guardians and clinicians completed surveys October 2016-May 2017 from the nurse-led immunisation Drop in Centre (DIC) or physician-led SIC. Vaccine-uptake was measured using the Australian Immunisation Register at baseline, 1 and 7 months post-attendance. The association between vaccine-uptake, policy motivation and VH was explored by logistic regression. Results Of 607 children included, 393 (65%) were from the DIC and 214 (35%) SIC. 74 (12%) of parents were motivated by the policies to attend immunisation services and 19% were VH. Only 50% of VH parents planned to catch-up vaccination for enrolment to childcare/kindergarten. Fewer children were fully immunised at 7 months if their parents were VH (difference 18%; OR 0.24, CI 0.1-0.54,p&lt;0.001) or seeking medical exemption (difference 33%, OR 0.08, CI 0.01-0.6, p 0.015). Conclusions The 'No Jab' policies motivated attendance to a tertiary immunisation service but children of vaccine hesitant parents and those seeking medical exemption to immunisation were less likely to be fully immunised post attendance, compared to baseline. These data will be used to inform a comprehensive evaluation of the impact of the policies, particularly the educational impact from loss of early childhood education.

Background.There have been no household surveys of adult attention deficit and hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) in Kenya, and only one in sub-Saharan Africa.Methods.Data on ADHD was used from a household survey of mental disorders and their associated risk factors conducted in Maseno area (population 70 805), near Lake Victoria in Kenya, using a demographic surveillance site as the sample frame, as part of a wider survey of mental health, malaria and immunity A total of 1190 households were selected, and 1158 adult participants consented to the study while 32 refused to participate in the study interviews, giving a response rate of 97.3%. ADHD symptoms were assessed with the WHO Adult ADHD Self-Report Scale (ASRS) Screener.Results.This survey found that the overall prevalence of ADHD using the ASRS was 13.1%. This suggests a high level of ADHD in the Kenyan population which needs to be further investigated for its impact on adult mental health. In the adjusted analysis, increased odds ratios (ORs) were found in those with higher assets (OR 1.7, p = 0.023), those with life events (OR 2.4, p = 0.001 for those with 2–3 life events and OR 2.6, p < 0.001 for those with 4 or more life events), and those with common mental disorders (OR 2.3, p = 0.001).Conclusion.The study demonstrates the magnitude of ADHD symptoms as a public health issue, relevant for health worker training, and the importance of further research into its prevalence in adults and associated risk factors.

Abstract Background Teamwork in the operating theatre is a complex emergent phenomenon and is driven by cooperative relationships between staff. A foundational requirement for teamwork is the ability to communicate effectively, and in particular, knowing each other’s name. Many operating theatre staff do not know each other’s name, even after formal team introductions. The use of theatre caps to display a staff member’s name and role has been suggested to improve communication and teamwork. Methods We hypothesized that the implementation of scrub hats with individual team members' names and roles would improve the perceived quality and effectiveness of communication in the operating theatre. A pilot project was designed as a pre-/post-implementation questionnaire sent to 236 operating room staff members at a general hospital in suburban Melbourne, Victoria, Australia, between November 6 to December 18, 2018. Participants included medical practitioners (anaesthetists, surgeons, obstetricians and gynaecologists), nurses (anaesthetic, scrub/scout and paediatric nurses), midwives and theatre technicians. The primary outcome was a change in perceived teamwork score, measured using a five position Likert scale. Results Of 236 enrolled participants, 107 (45%) completed both the pre and post intervention surveys. The median perceived teamwork response of four did not change after the intervention, though the number of low scores was reduced (p = 0.015). In a pre-planned subgroup analysis, the median perceived teamwork score rose for midwives from three to four (p < 0.001), while for other craft groups remained similar. The median number of staff members in theatre that a participant did not know the name of reduced from three to two (p < 0.001). Participants reported knowing the names of all staff members present in the theatre more frequently after the intervention (31% vs 15%, p < 0.001). The reported rate of formal team introductions was not significantly different after the intervention (34.7% vs 47.7% p = 0.058). Conclusions In this study, we found that wearing caps displaying name and role appeared to improve perceived teamwork and improve communication between staff members working in the operating theatre.

Objective: Anxiety and depression are the most common mental health disorders experienced by Australians. These disorders are commonly found in people who use methamphetamine; however, much of this research has involved participants recruited from treatment settings who inject methamphetamine. We therefore explored (1) the prevalence of moderate to severe anxiety and depression in a community-recruited cohort who smoked methamphetamine and (2) examined potential factors associated with moderate to severe anxiety or depression in this cohort. Method: Data were derived from baseline surveys of 725 participants of the prospective ‘VMAX’ study, recruited from metropolitan and non-metropolitan areas of Victoria, Australia, via snowball and respondent-driven sampling. Anxiety and depression were measured using the Generalized Anxiety Disorder-7 and the Patient Health Questionnaire-9 instruments. Independent associations between moderate to severe scores on these measures and demographic, socio-economic, substance use and other health and social characteristics were examined using multivariable logistic regression. Results: More than half (60%) of the participants were classified as experiencing moderate to severe anxiety and/or depression. In the multivariable models, having poor/very poor self-rated health, methamphetamine dependence and being unemployed were associated with higher odds of experiencing both moderate to severe depression and moderate to severe anxiety. Living in a large rural town, identifying as Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander and smoking methamphetamine were associated with lower odds of experiencing moderate to severe depression. Being female was associated with higher odds of experiencing moderate to severe anxiety. Conclusion: The high rates of anxiety and/or depression found in the VMAX cohort were associated with demographic, socio-economic, substance use and other health and social factors. The prevalence of moderate to severe anxiety is a novel finding that warrants further study. Further work is needed to determine how anxiety and depression change over time among people who smoke methamphetamine, to help identify key intervention points.

IntroductionAustralia is at a particular point in its history where there is a noticeable diaspora of artists and creative practitioners away from the major capitals of Sydney and Melbourne (in particular), driven in no small part by ballooning house prices of the last eight years. This has meant big changes for some regional spaces, and in turn, for the face of Australian cultural life. Regional cultural precincts are forming with tourist flows, funding attention and cultural economies. Likewise, there appears to be growing consciousness in the ‘art centres’ of Melbourne and Sydney of interesting and relevant activities outside their limits. This research draws on my experience as an art practitioner, curator and social researcher in one such region (Castlemaine in Central Victoria), and particularly from a recent interview series I have conducted in collaboration with art space in that region, Wide Open Road Art. In this, 23 regional and city-based artists were asked about the social, economic and local conditions that can and have supported their art practices. Drawing from these conversations and Bourdieu’s ideas around cultural production, the article suggests that authentic, diverse, interesting and disruptive creative practices in Australian cultural life involve the increasingly pressing need for security while existing outside the modern imperative of high consumption; of finding alternative ways to live well while entering into the shared space of cultural production. Indeed, it is argued that often it is the capacity to defy key economic paradigms, for example of ‘rational (economic) self-interest’, that allows creative life to flourish (Bourdieu Field; Ley “Artists”). While regional spaces present new opportunities for this, there are pitfalls and nuances worth exploring.Changes in Regional AustraliaAustralia has long been an urbanising nation. Since Federation our cities have increased from a third to now constituting two-thirds of the country’s total population (Gray and Lawrence 6; ABS), making us one of the most urbanised countries in the world. Indeed, as machines replaced manual labour on farms; as Australia’s manufacturing industry began its decline; and as young people in particular left the country for city universities (Gray and Lawrence), the post-war industrial-economic boom drove this widespread demographic and economic shift. In the 1980s closures of regional town facilities like banks, schools and hospitals propelled widespread belief that regional Australia was in crisis and would be increasingly difficult to sustain (Rentschler, Bridson, and Evans; Gray and Lawrence 2; Barr et al.; ABS). However, the late 1990s and early 21st century saw a turnaround that has been referred to by some as the rise of the ‘sea change’. That is, widespread renewed interest and idealisation of not just coastal areas but anywhere outside the city (Murphy). It was a simultaneous pursuit of “a small ‘a’ alternative lifestyle” and escape from rising living costs in urban areas, especially for the unemployed, single parents and those with disabilities (Murphy). This renewed interest has been sustained. The latest wave, or series of waves, have coincided with the post-GFC house price spike, of cheap credit and lenient lending designed to stimulate the economy. This initiative in part led to Sydney and Melbourne median dwelling prices rising by up to 114% in eight years (Scutt 2017), which alone had a huge influence on who was able to afford to live in city areas and who was not. Rapid population increases and diminished social networks and familial support are also considered drivers that sent a wave of people (a million since 2011) towards the outer fringes of the cities and to ‘commuter belt’ country towns (Docherty; Murphy). While the underprivileged are clearly most disadvantaged in what has actually been a global development process (see Jayne on this, and on the city as a consumer itself), artists and creatives are also a unique category who haven’t fared well with hyper-urbanisation (Ley “Artists”). Despite the class privilege that often accompanies such a career choice, the economic disadvantage art professions often involve has seen a diaspora of artists moving to regional areas, particularly those in the hinterlands around and train lines to major centres. We see the recent ‘rise of a regional bohemia’ (Regional Australia Institute): towns like Toowoomba, Byron Bay, Surf Coast, Gold Coast-Tweed, Kangaroo Valley, Wollongong, Warburton, Bendigo, Tooyday, New Norfolk, and countless more being re-identified as arts towns and precincts. In Australia in 2016–17, 1 in 6 professional artists, and 1 in 4 visual artists, were living in a regional town (Throsby and Petetskaya). Creative arts in regional Australia makes up a quarter of the nation’s creative output and is a $2.8 billion industry; and our regions particularly draw in creative practitioners in their prime productive years (aged 24 to 44) (Regional Australia Institute).WORA Conservation SeriesIn 2018 artist and curator Helen Mathwin and myself received a local shire grant to record a conversation series with 23 artists who were based in the Central Goldfields region of Victoria as well as further afield, but who had a connection to the regional arts space we run, WideOpenRoadArt (WORA). In videoed, in-depth, approximately hour-long, semi-structured interviews conducted throughout 2018, we spoke to artists (16 women and 7 men) about the relocation phenomenon we were witnessing in our own growing arts town. Most were interviewed in WORA’s roving art float, but we seized any ad hoc opportunity we had to have genuine discussions with people. Focal points were around sustainability of practice and the social conditions that supported artists’ professional pursuits. This included accessing an arts community, circles of cultural production, and the ‘art centre’; the capacity to exhibit; but also, social factors such as affordable housing and the ability to live on a low-income while having dependants; and so on. The conversations were rich with lived experiences and insights on these issues.Financial ImperativesIn line with the discussion above, the most prominent factor we noticed in the interviews was the inescapable importance of being able to live cheaply. The consistent message that all of the interviewees, both regional- and city-based, conveyed was that a career in art-making required an important independence from the need to earn a substantial income. One interviewee commented: “I do run my art as a business, I have an ABN […] it makes a healthy loss! I don’t think I’ve ever made a profit […].” Another put it: “now that I’m in [this] town and I have a house and stuff I do feel like there is maybe a bit more security around those daily things that will hopefully give me space to [make artworks].”Much has been said on the pervasive inability to monetise art careers, notably Bourdieu’s observations that art exists on an interdependent field of cultural capital, determining for itself an autonomous conception of value separate to economics (Bourdieu, Field 39). This is somewhat similar to the idea of art as a sacred phenomenon irreducible to dollar terms (Abbing 38; see also Benjamin’s “aura”; “The Work of Art”). Art’s difficult relationship with commodification is part of its heroism that Benjamin described (Benjamin Charles Baudelaire 79), its potential to sanctify mainstream society by staying separate to the lowly aspirations of commerce (Ley “Artists” 2529). However, it is understood, artists still need to attain professional education and capacities, yet they remain at the bottom of the income ladder not only professionally, but in the case of visual artists, they remain at the bottom of the creative income hierarchies as well. Further to this, within visual arts, only a tiny proportion achieve financially backed success (Menger 277). “Artistic labour markets are characterised by high risk of failure, excess supply of recruits, low artistic income level, skewed income distribution and multiple jobholding” (Mangset, Torvik Heian, Kleppe, and Løyland; Menger). Mangset et al. point to ideas that have long surrounded the “charismatic artist myth,” of a quasi-metaphysical calling to be an artist that can lead one to overlook the profession’s vast pitfalls in terms of economic sustainability. One interviewee described it as follows: “From a very young age I wanted to be an artist […] so there’s never been a time that I’ve thought that’s not what I’m doing.” A 1% rule seems widely acknowledged in how the profession manages the financial winners against those who miss out; the tiny proportion of megastar artists versus a vast struggling remainder.As even successful artists often dip below the poverty line between paid engagements, housing costs can make the difference between being able to live in an area and not (Turnbull and Whitford). One artist described:[the reason we moved here from Melbourne] was financial, yes definitely. We wouldn’t have been able to purchase a property […] in Melbourne, we would not have been able to live in place that we wanted to live, and to do what we wanted to do […]. It was never an option for us to get a big mortgage.Another said:It partly came about as a financial practicality to move out here. My partner […] wanted to be in the bush, but I was resistant at first, we were in Melbourne but we just couldn’t afford Melbourne in the end, we had an apartment, we had a studio. My partner was a cabinet maker then. You know, just every month all our money went to rent and we just couldn’t manage anymore. So we thought, well maybe if we come out to the bush […] It was just by a happy accident that we found a property […] that we could afford, that was off-grid so it cut the bills down for us [...] that had a little studio and already had a little cottage on there that we could rent that out to get money.For a prominent artist we spoke to this issue was starkly reflected. Despite large exhibitions at some of the highest profile galleries in regional Victoria, the commissions offered for these shows were so insubstantial that the artist and their family had to take on staggering sums of personal debt to execute the ambitious and critically acclaimed shows. Another very successful artist we interviewed who had shown widely at ‘A-list’ international arts institutions and received several substantial grants, spoke of their dismay and pessimism at the idea of financial survival. For all artists we spoke to, pursuing their arts practice was in constant tension with economic imperatives, and their lives had all been shaped by the need to make shrewd decisions to continue practising. There were two artists out of the 23 we interviewed who considered their artwork able to provide full-time income, although this still relied on living costs remaining extremely low. “We are very lucky to have bought a very cheap property [in the country] that I can [also] have my workshop on, so I’m not paying for two properties in Melbourne […] So that certainly takes a fair bit of pressure off financially.” Their co-interviewee described this as “pretty luxurious!” Notably, the two who thought they could live off their art practices were both men, mid-career, whose works were large, spectacular festival items, which alongside the artists’ skill and hard work was also a factor in the type of remuneration received.Decongested LivingBeyond more affordable real estate and rental spaces, life outside our cities offers other benefits that have particular relevance to creative practitioners. Opera and festival director Lindy Hume described her move to the NSW South Coast in terms of space to think and be creative. “The abundance of time, space and silence makes living in places like [Hume’s town] ideal for creating new work” (Brown). And certainly, this was a theme that arose frequently in our interviews. Many of our regionally based artists were in part choosing the de-pressurised space of non-metro areas, and also seeking an embedded, daily connection to nature for themselves, their art-making process and their families. In one interview this was described as “dreamtime”. “Some of my more creative moments are out walking in the forest with the dog, that sort of semi-daydreamy thing where your mind is taken away by the place you’re in.”Creative HubsAll of our regional interviewees mentioned the value of the local community, as a general exchange, social support and like-minded connection, but also specifically of an arts community. Whether a tree change by choice or a more reactive move, the diaspora of artists, among others, has led to a type of rural renaissance in certain popular areas. Creative hubs located around the country, often in close proximity to the urban centres, are creating tremendous opportunities to network with other talented people doing interesting things, living in close proximity and often open to cross-fertilisation. One said: “[Castlemaine] is the best place in Australia, it has this insane cultural richness in a tiny town, you can’t go out and not meet people on the street […] For someone who has not had community in their life that is so gorgeous.” Another said:[Being an artist here] is kind of easy! Lots of people around to connect—with […] other artists but also creatively minded people [...] So it means you can just bump into someone from down the street and have an amazing conversation in five minutes about some amazing thing! […] There’s a concentration here that works.With these hubs, regional spaces are entering into a new relevance in the sphere of cultural production. They are generating unique and interesting local creative scenes for people to live amongst or visit, and generating strong local arts economies, tourist economies, and funding opportunities (Rentschler, Bridson, and Evans). Victoria in particular has burgeoned, with tourist flows to its regions increasing 13 per cent in 5 years and generating tourism worth $10 billion (Tourism Victoria). Victoria’s Greater Bendigo is Australia’s most popularly searched tourist destination on Trip Advisor, with tourism increasing 52% in 10 years (Boland). Simultaneously, funding flows have increased to regional zones, as governments seek to promote development outside Australia’s urban centres and are confident in the arts as a key strategy in boosting health, economies and overall wellbeing (see Rentschler, Bridson, and Evans; see also the 2018 Regional Centre for Culture initiative, Boland). The regions are also an increasingly relevant participant in national cultural life (Turnbull and Whitford; Mitchell; Simpson; Woodhead). Opportunities for an openness to productive exchange between regional and metropolitan sites appear to be growing, with regional festivals and art events gaining importance and unique attributes in the consciousness of the arts ‘centre’ (see for example Fairley; Simpson; Farrelly; Woodhead).Difficulties of Regional LocationDespite this, our interviews still brought to light the difficulties and barriers experienced living as a regional artist. For some, living in regional Victoria was an accepted set-back in their ambitions, something to be concealed and counteracted with education in reputable metropolitan art schools or city-based jobs. For others there was difficulty accessing a sympathetic arts community—although arts towns had vibrant cultures, certain types of creativity were preferred (often craft-based and more community-oriented). Practitioners who were active in maintaining their links to a metropolitan art scene voiced more difficulty in fitting in and successfully exhibiting their (often more conceptual or boundary-pushing) work in regional locations.The Gentrification ProblemThe other increasingly obvious issue in the revivification of some non-metropolitan areas is that they can and are already showing signs of being victims of their own success. That is, some regional arts precincts are attracting so many new residents that they are ceasing to be the low-cost, hospitable environments for artists they once were. Geographer David Ley has given attention to this particular pattern of gentrification that trails behind artists (Ley “Artists”). Ley draws from Florida’s ideas of late capitalism’s ascendency of creativity over the brute utilitarianism of the industrial era. This has got to the point that artists and creative professionals have an increasing capacity to shape and generate value in areas of life that were previous overlooked, especially with built environments (2529). Now more than ever, there is the “urbane middle-class” pursuing ‘the swirling milieu of artists, bohemians and immigrants” (Florida) as they create new, desirable landscapes with the “refuse of society” (Benjamin Charles Baudelaire 79; Ley New Middle Class). With Australia’s historic shifts in affordability in our major cities, this pattern that Ley identified in urban built environments can be seen across our states and regions as well.But with gentrification comes increased costs of living, as housing, shops and infrastructure all alter for an affluent consumer-resident. This diminishes what Bourdieu describes as “the suspension and removal of economic necessity” fundamental to the avant-garde (Bourdieu Distinction 54). That is to say, its relief from heavy pressure to materially survive is arguably critical to the reflexive, imaginative, and truly new offerings that art can provide. And as argued earlier, there seems an inbuilt economic irrationality in artmaking as a vocation—of dedicating one’s energy, time and resources to a pursuit that is notoriously impoverishing. But this irrationality may at the same time be critical to setting forth new ideas, perspectives, reflections and disruptions of taken-for-granted social assumptions, and why art is so indispensable in the first place (Bourdieu Field 39; Ley New Middle Class 2531; Weber on irrationality and the Enlightenment Project; also Adorno’s the ‘primitive’ in art). Australia’s cities, like those of most developed nations, increasingly demand we busy ourselves with the high-consumption of modern life that makes certain activities that sit outside this almost impossible. As gentrification unfolds from the metropolis to the regions, Australia faces a new level of far-reaching social inequality that has real consequences for who is able to participate in art-making, where these people can live, and ultimately what kind of diversity of ideas and voices participate in the generation of our national cultural life. ConclusionThe revival of some of Australia’s more popular regional towns has brought new life to some regional areas, particularly in reshaping their identities as cultural hubs worth experiencing, living amongst or supporting their development. Our interviews brought to life the significant benefits artists have experienced in relocating to country towns, whether by choice or necessity, as well as some setbacks. It was clear that economics played a major role in the demographic shift that took place in the area being examined; more specifically, that the general reorientation of social life towards consumption activities are having dramatic spatial consequences that we are currently seeing transform our major centres. The ability of art and creative practices to breathe new life into forgotten and devalued ideas and spaces is a foundational attribute but one that also creates a gentrification problem. Indeed, this is possibly the key drawback to the revivification of certain regional areas, alongside other prejudices and clashes between metro and regional cultures. It is argued that the transformative and redemptive actions art can perform need to involve the modern irrationality of not being transfixed by matters of economic materialism, so as to sit outside taken-for-granted value structures. This emphasises the importance of equality and open access in our spaces and landscapes if we are to pursue a vibrant, diverse and progressive national cultural sphere.ReferencesAbbing, Hans. Why Artists Are Poor: The Exceptional Economy of the Arts. Amsterdam: Amsterdam UP, 2002.Adorno, Theodor. Aesthetic Theory. London: Routledge, 1983.Australian Bureau of Statistics. “Population Growth: Capital City Growth and Development.” 4102.0—Australian Social Trends. Canberra: Australian Bureau of Sttaistics, 1996. <http://www.abs.gov.au/ausstats/abs@.nsf/2f762f95845417aeca25706c00834efa/924739f180990e34ca2570ec0073cdf7!OpenDocument>.Barr, Neil, Kushan Karunaratne, and Roger Wilkinson. Australia’s Farmers: Past, Present and Future. Land and Water Resources Research and Development Corporation, 2005. 1 Mar. 2019 <http://inform.regionalaustralia.org.au/industry/agriculture-forestry-and-fisheries/item/australia-s-farmers-past-present-and-future>.Benjamin, Walter. Charles Baudelaire: A Lyric Poet in the Era of High Capitalism. London: NLB, 1973.———. “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction.” Illuminations. Ed. Hannah Arendt. Trans. Harry Zohn. New York: Schocken Books, 1969.Boland, Brooke. “What It Takes to Be a Leading Regional Centre of Culture.” Arts Hub 18 July 2018. 1 Mar. 2019 <https://www.artshub.com.au/festival/news-article/sponsored-content/festivals/brooke-boland/what-it-takes-to-be-a-leading-regional-centre-of-culture-256110>.Bourdieu, Pierre. Distinction. Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1984.———. The Field of Cultural Production. New York: Columbia UP, 1993.Brown, Bill. “‘Restless Giant’ Lures Queensland Opera’s Artistic Director Lindy Hume to the Regional Art Movement.” ABC News 13 Sep. 2017. 10 Mar. 2019 <https://www.abc.net.au/news/2017-09-12/regional-creative-industries-on-the-rise/8895842>.Docherty, Glenn. “Why 5 Million Australians Can’t Get to Work, Home or School on Time.” Sydney Morning Herald 17 Feb. 2019. 10 Mar. 2019 <https://www.smh.com.au/national/why-5-million-australians-can-t-get-to-work-home-or-school-on-time-20190215-p50y1x.html>.Fairley, Gina. “Big Hit Exhibitions to See These Summer Holidays.” Arts Hub 14 Dec. 2018. 1 Mar. 2019 <https://visual.artshub.com.au/news-article/news/visual-arts/gina-fairley/big-hit-exhibitions-to-see-these-summer-holidays-257016>.Farrelly, Kate. “Bendigo: The Regional City That’s Transformed into a Foodie and Cultural Hub.” Domain 9 Apr. 2019. 10 Mar. 2019 <https://www.domain.com.au/news/bendigo-the-regional-city-you-didnt-expect-to-become-a-foodie-and-cultural-hub-813317/>.Florida, Richard. “A Creative, Dynamic City Is an Open, Tolerant City.” The Globe and Mail 24 Jun. 2002: T8.Gray, Ian, and Geoffrey Lawrence. A Future For Regional Australia: Escaping Global Misfortune. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001.Hume, Lindy. Restless Giant: Changing Cultural Values in Regional Australia. Strawberry Hills: Currency House, 2017.Jayne, Mark. Cities and Consumption. London: Routledge, 2005.Ley, David. The New Middle Class and the Remaking of the Central City. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996.———. “Artists, Aestheticisation and Gentrification.” Urban Studies 40.12 (2003): 2527–44.Menger, Pierre-Michel. “Artistic Labor Markets: Contingent Works, Excess Supply and Occupational Risk Management.” Handbook of the Economics of Art and Culture. Eds. Victor Ginsburgh and David Throsby. Amsterdam: Elsevier, 2006. 766–811.Mangset, Per, Mari Torvik Heian, Bard Kleppe and Knut Løyland. “Why Are Artists Getting Poorer: About the Reproduction of Low Income among Artists.” International Journal of Cultural Policy 24.4 (2018): 539-58.Mitchell, Scott. “Want to Start Collecting Art But Don’t Know Where to Begin? Trust Your Own Taste, plus More Tips.” ABC Life, 31 Mar. 2019 <https://www.abc.net.au/life/tips-for-buying-art-starting-collection/10084036>.Murphy, Peter. “Sea Change: Re-Inventing Rural and Regional Australia.” Transformations 2 (March 2002).Regional Australia Institute. “The Rise of the Regional Bohemians.” Regional Australia Institute 24 May. 2017. 1 Mar. 2019 <http://www.regionalaustralia.org.au/home/2017/05/rise-regional-bohemians-painting-new-picture-arts-culture-regional-australia/>.Rentschler, Ruth, Kerrie Bridson, and Jody Evans. Regional Arts Australia Stats and Stories: The Impact of the Arts in Regional Australia. Regional Arts Australia [n.d.]. <https://www.cacwa.org.au/documents/item/477>.Simpson, Andrea. “The Regions: Delivering Exceptional Arts Experiences to the Community.” ArtsHub 11 Apr. 2019. <https://visual.artshub.com.au/news-article/sponsored-content/visual-arts/andrea-simpson/the-regions-delivering-exceptional-arts-experiences-to-the-community-257752>.

On 19 January 1975, Australia’s first youth station 2JJ (Double Jay) launched itself onto the nation’s airwaves with a NASA-style countdown and You Only Like Me ‘Cause I’m Good in Bed by Australian band Skyhooks. Refused airtime by the commercial stations because of its explicit sexual content, this song was a clear signifier of the new station’s intent—to occupy a more radical territory on Australian radio. Indeed, Double Jay’s musical entrée into the highly restrictive local broadcasting environment of the time has gone on to symbolise both the station’s role in its early days as an enfant terrible of radio (Inglis 376), and its near 40 years as a voice for youth culture in Australia (Milesago, Double Jay). In this paper we explore the proposition that Double Jay functioned as an outlet for youth counterculture in Australia, and that it achieved this even with (and arguably because of) its credentials as a state-generated entity. This proposition is considered via brief analysis of the political and musical context leading to the establishment of Double Jay. We intend to demonstrate that although the station was deeply embedded in “the system” in material and cultural terms, it simultaneously existed in an “uneasy symbiosis” (Martin and Siehl 54) with this system because it consciously railed against the mainstream cultures from which it drew, providing a public and active vehicle for youth counterculture in Australia. The origins of Double Jay thus provide one example of the complicated relationship between culture and counterculture, and the multiple ways in which the two are inextricably linked. As a publicly-funded broadcasting station Double Jay was liberated from the industrial imperatives of Australia’s commercial stations which arguably drove their predisposition for formula. The absence of profit motive gave Double Jay’s organisers greater room to experiment with format and content, and thus the potential to create a genuine alternative in Australia broadcasting. As a youth station Double Jay was created to provide a minority with its own outlet. The Labor government committed to wrenching airspace from the very restrictive Australian broadcasting “system” (Wiltshire and Stokes 2) to provide minority voices with room to speak and to be heard. Youth was identified by the government as one such minority. The Australian Broadcasting Commission (ABC) contributed to this process by enabling young staffers to establish the semi-independent Contemporary Radio Unit (CRU) (Webb) and within this a youth station. Not only did this provide a focal point around which a youth collective could coalesce, but the distinct place and identity of Double Jay within the ABC offered its organisers the opportunity to ignore or indeed subvert some of the perceived strictures of the “mothership” that was the ABC, whether in organisational, content and/or stylistic terms. For these and other reasons Double Jay was arguably well positioned to counter the broadcasting cultures that existed alongside this station. It did so stylistically, and also in more fundamental ways, At the same time, however, it “pillaged the host body at random” (Webb) co-opting certain aspects of these cultures (people, scheduling, content, administration) which in turn implicated Double Jay in the material and cultural practices of those mainstream cultures against which it railed. Counterculture on the Airwaves: Space for Youth to Play? Before exploring these themes further, we should make clear that Double Jay’s legitimacy as a “counterculture” organisation is observably tenuous against the more extreme renderings of the concept. Theodore Roszak, for example, requires of counterculture something “so radically disaffiliated from the mainstream assumptions of our society that it scarcely looks to many as a culture at all” (5). Double Jay was a brainchild of the state: an outcome of the Whitlam Government’s efforts to open up the nation’s airwaves (Davis, Government; McClelland). Further, the supervision of this station was given to the publicly funded Australian national broadcaster, the ABC (Inglis). Any claim Double Jay has to counterculture status then is arguably located in less radical invocations of the term. Some definitions, for example, hold that counterculture contains value systems that run counter to culture, but these values are relational rather than divorced from each other. Kenneth Leech, for example, states that counterculture is "a way of life and philosophy which at central points is in conflict with the mainstream society” (Desmond et al. 245, our emphasis); E.D. Batzell defines counterculture as "a minority culture marked by a set of values, norms and behaviour patterns which contradict those of the dominant society" (116, our emphasis). Both definitions imply that counterculture requires the mainstream to make sense of what it is doing and why. In simple terms then, counterculture as the ‘other’ does not exist without its mainstream counterpoint. The particular values with which counterculture is in conflict are generated by “the system” (Heath and Potter 6)—a system that imbues “manufactured needs and mass-produced desires” (Frank 15) in the masses to encourage order, conformity and consumption. Counterculture seeks to challenge this “system” via individualist, expression-oriented values such as difference, diversity, change, egalitarianism, and spontaneity (Davis On Youth; Leary; Thompson and Coskuner‐Balli). It is these kinds of counterculture values that we demonstrate were embedded in the content, style and management practices within Double Jay. The Whitlam Years and the Birth of Double Jay Double Jay was borne of the Whitlam government’s brief but impactful period in office from 1972 to 1975, after 23 years of conservative government in Australia. Key to the Labor Party’s election platform was the principle of participatory democracy, the purpose of which was “breaking down apathy and maximising active citizen engagement” (Cunningham 123). Within this framework, the Labor Party committed to opening the airwaves, and reconfiguring the rhetoric of communication and media as a space of and for the people (Department of the Media 3). Labor planned to honour this commitment via sweeping reforms that would counter the heavily concentrated Australian media landscape through “the encouragement of diversification of ownership of commercial radio and television”—and in doing so enable “the expression of a plurality of viewpoints and cultures throughout the media” (Department of the Media 3). Minority groups in particular were to be privileged, while some in the Party even argued for voices that would actively agitate. Senator Jim McClelland, for one, declared, “We say that somewhere in the system there must be broadcasting which not only must not be afraid to be controversial but has a duty to be controversial” (Senate Standing Committee 4). One clear voice of controversy to emerge in the 1960s and resonate throughout the 1970s was the voice of youth (Gerster and Bassett; Langley). Indeed, counterculture is considered by some as synonymous with a particular strain of youth culture during this time (Roszak; Leech). The Labor Government acknowledged this hitherto unrecognised voice in its 1972 platform, with Minister for the Media Senator Doug McClelland claiming that his party would encourage the “whetting of the appetite” for “life and experimentation” of Australia’s youth – in particular through support for the arts (160). McClelland secured licenses for two “experimental-type” stations under the auspices of the ABC, with the youth station destined for Sydney via the ABC’s standby transmitter in Gore Hill (ABCB, 2). Just as the political context in early 1970s Australia provided the necessary conditions for the appearance of Double Jay, so too did the cultural context. Counterculture emerged in the UK, USA and Europe as a clear and potent force in the late 1960s (Roszak; Leech; Frank; Braunstein and Doyle). In Australia this manifested in the 1960s and 1970s in various ways, including political protest (Langley; Horne); battles for the liberalisation of censorship (Hope and Dickerson, Liberalisation; Chipp and Larkin); sex and drugs (Dawson); and the art film scene (Hope and Dickerson, Happiness; Thoms). Of particular interest here is the “lifestyle” aspect of counterculture, within which the value-expressions against the dominant culture manifest in cultural products and practices (Bloodworth 304; Leary ix), and more specifically, music. Many authors have suggested that music was pivotal to counterculture (Bloodworth 309; Leech 8), a key “social force” through which the values of counterculture were articulated (Whiteley 1). The youth music broadcasting scene in Australia was extremely narrow prior to Double Jay, monopolised by a handful of media proprietors who maintained a stranglehold over the youth music scene from the mid-50s. This dominance was in part fuelled by the rising profitability of pop music, driven by “the dreamy teenage market”, whose spending was purely discretionary (Doherty 52) and whose underdeveloped tastes made them “immune to any sophisticated disdain of run-of-the-mill” cultural products (Doherty 230-231). Over the course of the 1950s the commercial stations pursued this market by “skewing” their programs toward the youth demographic (Griffen-Foley 264). The growing popularity of pop music saw radio shift from a “multidimensional” to “mono-dimensional” medium according to rock journalist Bruce Elder, in which the “lowest-common-denominator formula of pop song-chat-commercial-pop-song” dominated the commercial music stations (12). Emblematic of this mono-dimensionalism was the appearance of the Top 40 Playlist in 1958 (Griffin-Foley 265), which might see as few as 10–15 songs in rotation in peak shifts. Elder claims that this trend became more pronounced over the course of the 1960s and peaked in 1970, with playlists that were controlled with almost mechanical precision [and] compiled according to American-devised market research methods which tended to reinforce repetition and familiarity at the expense of novelty and diversity. (12) Colin Vercoe, whose job was to sell the music catalogues of Festival Records to stations like 2UE, 2SER and SUW, says it was “an incredibly frustrating affair” to market new releases because of the rigid attachment by commercials to the “Top 40 of endless repeats” (Vercoe). While some air time was given to youth music beyond the Top 40, this happened mostly in non-peak shifts and on weekends. Bill Drake at 2SM (who was poached by Double Jay and allowed to reclaim his real name, Holger Brockmann) played non-Top 40 music in his Sunday afternoon programme The Album Show (Brockmann). A more notable exception was Chris Winter’s Room to Move on the ABC, considered by many as the predecessor of Double Jay. Introduced in 1971, Room to Move played all forms of contemporary music not represented by the commercial broadcasters, including whole albums and B sides. Rock music’s isolation to the fringes was exacerbated by the lack of musical sales outlets for rock and other forms of non-pop music, with much music sourced through catalogues, music magazines and word of mouth (Winter; Walker). In this context a small number of independent record stores, like Anthem Records in Sydney and Archie and Jugheads in Melbourne, appear in the early 1970s. Vercoe claims that the commercial record companies relentlessly pursued the closure of these independents on the grounds they were illegal entities: The record companies hated them and they did everything they could do close them down. When (the companies) bought the catalogue to overseas music, they bought the rights. And they thought these record stores were impinging on their rights. It was clear that a niche market existed for rock and alternative forms of music. Keith Glass and David Pepperell from Archie and Jugheads realised this when stock sold out in the first week of trade. Pepperell notes, “We had some feeling we were doing something new relating to people our own age but little idea of the forces we were about to unleash”. Challenging the “System” from the Inside At the same time as interested individuals clamoured to buy from independent record stores, the nation’s first youth radio station was being instituted within the ABC. In October 1974, three young staffers—Marius Webb, Ron Moss and Chris Winter— with the requisite youth credentials were briefed by ABC executives to build a youth-style station for launch in January 1975. According to Winter “All they said was 'We want you to set up a station for young people' and that was it!”, leaving the three with a conceptual carte blanche–although assumedly within the working parameters of the ABC (Webb). A Contemporary Radio Unit (CRU) was formed in order to meet the requirements of the ABC while also creating a clear distinction between the youth station and the ABC. According to Webb “the CRU gave us a lot of latitude […] we didn’t have to go to other ABC Departments to do things”. The CRU was conscious from the outset of positioning itself against the mainstream practices of both the commercial stations and the ABC. The publicly funded status of Double Jay freed it from the shackles of profit motive that enslaved the commercial stations, in turn liberating its turntables from baser capitalist imperatives. The two coordinators Ron Moss and Marius Webb also bypassed the conventions of typecasting the announcer line-up (as was practice in both commercial and ABC radio), seeking instead people with charisma, individual style and youth appeal. Webb told the Sydney Morning Herald that Double Jay’s announcers were “not required to have a frontal lobotomy before they go on air.” In line with the individual- and expression-oriented character of the counterculture lifestyle, it was made clear that “real people” with “individuality and personality” would fill the airwaves of Double Jay (Nicklin 9). The only formula to which the station held was to avoid (almost) all formula – a mantra enhanced by the purchase in the station’s early days of thousands of albums and singles from 10 or so years of back catalogues (Robinson). This library provided presenters with the capacity to circumvent any need for repetition. According to Winter the DJs “just played whatever we wanted”, from B sides to whole albums of music, most of which had never made it onto Australian radio. The station also adapted the ABC tradition of recording live classical music, but instead recorded open-air rock concerts and pub gigs. A recording van built from second-hand ABC equipment captured the grit of Sydney’s live music scene for Double Jay, and in so doing undercut the polished sounds of its commercial counterparts (Walker). Double Jay’s counterculture tendencies further extended to its management style. The station’s more political agitators, led by Webb, sought to subvert the traditional top-down organisational model in favour of a more egalitarian one, including a battle with the ABC to remove the bureaucratic distinction between technical staff and presenters and replace this with the single category “producer/presenter” (Cheney, Webb, Davis 41). The coordinators also actively subverted their own positions as coordinators by holding leaderless meetings open to all Double Jay employees – meetings that were infamously long and fraught, but also remembered as symbolic of the station’s vibe at that time (Frolows, Matchett). While Double Jay assumed the ABC’s focus on music, news and comedy, at times it politicised the content contra to the ABC’s non-partisan policy, ignored ABC policy and practice, and more frequently pushed its contents over the edges of what was considered propriety and taste. These trends were already present in pockets of the ABC prior to Double Jay: in current affairs programmes like This Day Tonight and Four Corners (Harding 49); and in overtly leftist figures like Alan Ashbolt (Bowman), who it should be noted had a profound influence over Webb and other Double Jay staff (Webb). However, such an approach to radio still remained on the edges of the ABC. As one example of Double Jay’s singularity, Webb made clear that the ABC’s “gentleman’s agreement” with the Federation of Australian Commercial Broadcasters to ban certain content from airplay would not apply to Double Jay because the station would not “impose any censorship on our people” – a fact demonstrated by the station’s launch song (Nicklin 9). The station’s “people” in turn made the most of this freedom with the production of programmes like Gayle Austin’s Horny Radio Porn Show, the Naked Vicar Show, the adventures of Colonel Chuck Chunder of the Space Patrol, and the Sunday afternoon comic improvisations of Nude Radio from the team that made Aunty Jack. This openness also made its way into the news team, most famously in its second month on air with the production of The Ins and Outs of Love, a candid documentary of the sexual proclivities and encounters of Sydney’s youth. Conservative ABC staffer Clement Semmler described the programme as containing such “disgustingly explicit accounts of the sexual behaviour of young teenagers” that it “aroused almost universal obloquy from listeners and the press” (35). The playlist, announcers, comedy sketches, news reporting and management style of Double Jay represented direct challenges to the entrenched media culture of Australia in the mid 1970s. The Australian National Commission for UNESCO noted at the time that Double Jay was “variously described as political, subversive, offensive, pornographic, radical, revolutionary and obscene” (7). While these terms were understandable given the station’s commitment to experiment and innovation, the “vital point” about Double Jay was that it “transmitted an electronic reflection of change”: What the station did was to zero in on the kind of questioning of traditional values now inherent in a significant section of the under 30s population. It played their music, talked in their jargon, pandered to their whims, tastes, prejudices and societal conflicts both intrinsic and extrinsic. (48) Conclusion From the outset, Double Jay was locked in an “uneasy symbiosis” with mainstream culture. On the one hand, the station was established by federal government and its infrastructure was provided by state funds. It also drew on elements of mainstream broadcasting in multiple ways. However, at the same time, it was a voice for and active agent of counterculture, representing through its content, form and style those values that were considered to challenge the ‘system,’ in turn creating an outlet for the expression of hitherto un-broadcast “ways of thinking and being” (Leary). As Henry Rosenbloom, press secretary to then Labor Minister Dr Moss Cass wrote, Double Jay had the potential to free its audience “from an automatic acceptance of the artificial rhythms of urban and suburban life. In a very real sense, JJ [was] a deconditioning agent” (Inglis 375-6). While Double Jay drew deeply from mainstream culture, its skilful and playful manipulation of this culture enabled it to both reflect and incite youth-based counterculture in Australia in the 1970s. References Australian Broadcasting Control Board. Development of National Broadcasting and Television Services. ABCB: Sydney, 1976. Batzell, E.D. “Counter-Culture.” Blackwell Dictionary of Twentieth-Century Social Thought. Eds. Williams Outhwaite and Tom Bottomore. Oxford: Blackwell, 1994. 116-119. Bloodworth, John David. “Communication in the Youth Counterculture: Music as Expression.” Central States Speech Journal 26.4 (1975): 304-309. Bowman, David. “Radical Giant of Australian Broadcasting: Allan Ashbolt, Lion of the ABC, 1921-2005.” Sydney Morning Herald 15 June 2005. 15 Sep. 2013 ‹http://www.smh.com.au/news/Obituaries/Radical-giant-of-Australian-broadcasting/2005/06/14/1118645805607.html›. Braunstein, Peter, and Michael William Doyle. Eds. Imagine Nation: The American Counterculture of the 1960s and '70s New York: Taylor and Francis, 2002. Brockman, Holger. Personal interview. 8 December 2013. Cheney, Roz. Personal interview. 10 July 2013. Chipp, Don, and John Larkin. Don Chipp: The Third Man. Adelaide: Rigby, 2008. Cunningham, Frank. Theories of Democracy: A Critical Introduction. London: Routledge, 2002. Davis, Fred. On Youth Subcultures: The Hippie Variant. New York: General Learning Press, 1971. Davis, Glyn. "Government Decision‐Making and the ABC: The 2JJ Case." Politics 19.2 (1984): 34-42. Dawson, Jonathan. "JJJ: Radical Radio?." Continuum: Journal of Media & Cultural Studies 6.1 (1992): 37-44. Department of the Media. Submission by the Department of the Media to the Independent Inquiry into Frequency Modulation Broadcasting. Sydney: Australian Government Publishers, 1974. Desmond, John, Pierre McDonagh, and Stephanie O'Donohoe. “Counter-Culture and Consumer Society.” Consumption Markets & Culture 4.3 (2000): 241-279. Doherty, Thomas. Teenagers and Teenpics: The Juvenilization of American Movies in the 1950s. Boston: Unwin Hyman, 1988. Elder, Bruce. Sound Experiment. Unpublished manuscript, 1988. Australian National Commission for UNESCO. Extract from Seminar on Entertainment and Society, Report on Research Project. 1976. Frolows, Arnold. Personal interview. 10 July 2013. Frank, Thomas. The Conquest of Cool: Business Culture, Counterculture, and the Rise of Hip Consumerism. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1997. Gerster, Robin, and Jan Bassett. Seizures of Youth: The Sixties and Australia. Melbourne: Hyland House, 1991. Griffen-Foley, Bridget. Changing Stations: The Story of Australian Commercial Radio, Sydney: UNSW Press, 2009. Harding, Richard. Outside Interference: The Politics of Australian Broadcasting. Melbourne: Sun Books, 1979. Heath, Joseph, and Andrew Potter. Nation of Rebels: Why Counterculture Became Consumer Culture. New York: Harper Collins, 2004. Hope, Cathy, and Adam Dickerson. “The Sydney and Melbourne Film Festivals, and the Liberalisation of Film Censorship in Australia”. Screening the Past 35 (2012). 12 Aug. 2014 ‹http://www.screeningthepast.com/2012/12/the-sydney-and-melbourne-film-festivals-and-the-liberalisation-of-film-censorship-in-australia/›. Hope, Cathy, and Adam Dickerson. “Is Happiness Festival-Shaped Any Longer? The Melbourne and Sydney Film Festivals and the Growth of Australian Film Culture 1973-1977”. Screening the Past 38 (2013). 12 Aug. 2014 ‹http://www.screeningthepast.com/2013/12/‘is-happiness-festival-shaped-any-longer’-the-melbourne-and-sydney-film-festivals-and-the-growth-of-australian-film-culture-1973-1977/›. Horne, Donald. Time of Hope: Australia 1966-72. Sydney: Angus and Robertson, 1980. Inglis, Ken. This Is the ABC: The Australian Broadcasting Commission, 1932-1983. Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 1983. Langley, Greg. A Decade of Dissent: Vietnam and the Conflict on the Australian Homefront. Sydney: Allen and Unwin, 1992. Leary, Timothy. “Foreword.” Counterculture through the Ages: From Abraham to Acid House. Eds. Ken Goffman and Dan Joy. New York: Villard, 2007. ix-xiv. Leech, Kenneth. Youthquake: The Growth of a Counter-Culture through Two Decades. London: Sheldon Press, 1973. Martin, J., and C. Siehl. "Organizational Culture and Counterculture: An Uneasy Symbiosis. Organizational Dynamics, 12.2 (1983): 52-64. Martin, Peter. Personal interview. 10 July 2014. Matchett, Stuart. Personal interview. 10 July 2013. McClelland, Douglas. “The Arts and Media.” Towards a New Australia under a Labor Government. Ed. John McLaren. Victoria: Cheshire Publishing, 1972. McClelland, Douglas. Personal interview. 25 August 2010. Milesago. “Double Jay: The First Year”. n.d. 8 Oct. 2012 ‹http://www.milesago.com/radio/2jj.htm›. Milesago. “Part 5: 1971-72 - Sundown and 'Archie & Jughead's”. n.d. Keith Glass – A Life in Music. 12 Oct. 2012 ‹http://www.milesago.com/Features/keithglass5.htm›. Nicklin, Lenore. “Rock (without the Roll) around the Clock.” Sydney Morning Herald 18 Jan. 1975: 9. Robinson, Ted. Personal interview. 11 December 2013. Roszak, Theodore. The Making of a Counter Culture. New York: Anchor, 1969. Semmler, Clement. The ABC - Aunt Sally and Sacred Cow. Carlton: Melbourne University Press, 1981. Senate Standing Committee on Education, Science and the Arts and Jim McClelland. Second Progress Report on the Reference, All Aspects of Television and Broadcasting, Including Australian Content of Television Programmes. Canberra: Australian Senate, 1973. Thompson, Craig J., and Gokcen Coskuner‐Balli. "Countervailing Market Responses to Corporate Co‐optation and the Ideological Recruitment of Consumption Communities." Journal of Consumer Research 34.2 (2007): 135-152. Thoms, Albie. “The Australian Avant-garde.” An Australian Film Reader. Eds. Albert Moran and Tom O’Regan. Sydney: Currency Press, 1985. 279–280. Vercoe, Colin. Personal interview. 11 Feb. 2014. Walker, Keith. Personal interview. 11 July 2013. Webb, Marius. Personal interview. 5 Feb. 2013. Whiteley, Sheila. The Space between the Notes: Rock and the Counter-Culture. London: Routledge, 1992. Wiltshire, Kenneth, and Charles Stokes. Government Regulation and the Electronic Commercial Media. Monograph M43. Melbourne: Committee for Economic Development of Australia, 1976. Winter, Chris. Personal interview. 16 Mar. 2013.

In this paper we explore the rise of anti-gambling apps in the context of the massive expansion of gambling in new spheres of life (online and offline) and an acceleration in strategies of anticipatory and individualised management of harm caused by gambling. These apps, and the techniques and forms of labour they demand, are examples of and a mechanism through which a mode of governance premised on ‘self-care’ and ‘self-control’ is articulated and put into practice. To support this argument, we explore two government initiatives in the Australian context. Quit Pokies, a mobile app project between the Moreland City Council, North East Primary Care Partnership and the Victorian Local Governance Association, is an example of an emerging service paradigm of ‘self-care’ that uses online and mobile platforms with geo-location to deliver real time health and support interventions. A similar mobile app, Gambling Terminator, was launched by the NSW government in late 2012. Both apps work on the premise that interrupting a gaming session through a trigger, described by Quit Pokies’ creator as a “tap on the shoulder” provides gamblers the opportunity to take a reflexive stance and cut short their gambling practice in the course of play. We critically examine these apps as self-disciplining techniques of contemporary neo-liberalism directed towards anticipating and reducing the personal harm and social risk associated with gambling. We analyse the material and discursive elements, and new forms of user labour, through which this consumable media is framed and assembled. We argue that understanding the role of these apps, and mobile media more generally, in generating new techniques and technologies of the self, is important for identifying emerging modes of governance and their implications at a time when gambling is going through an immense period of cultural normalisation in online and offline environments. The Australian context is particularly germane for the way gambling permeates everyday spaces of sociality and leisure, and the potential of gambling interventions to interrupt and re-configure these spaces and institute a new kind of subject-state relation. Gambling in Australia Though a global phenomenon, the growth and expansion of gambling manifests distinctly in Australia because of its long cultural and historical attachment to games of chance. Australians are among the biggest betters and losers in the world (Ziolkowski), mainly on Electronic Gaming Machines (EGM) or pokies. As of 2013, according to The World Count of Gaming Machine (Ziolkowski), there were 198,150 EGMs in the country, of which 197,274 were slot machines, with the rest being electronic table games of roulette, blackjack and poker. There are 118 persons per machine in Australia. New South Wales is the jurisdiction with most EGMs (95,799), followed by Queensland (46,680) and Victoria (28,758) (Ziolkowski). Gambling is significant in Australian cultural history and average Australian households spend at least some money on different forms of gambling, from pokies to scratch cards, every year (Worthington et al.). In 1985, long-time gambling researcher Geoffrey Caldwell stated thatAustralians seem to take a pride in the belief that we are a nation of gamblers. Thus we do not appear to be ashamed of our gambling instincts, habits and practices. Gambling is regarded by most Australians as a normal, everyday practice in contrast to the view that gambling is a sinful activity which weakens the moral fibre of the individual and the community. (Caldwell 18) The omnipresence of gambling opportunities in most Australian states has been further facilitated by the availability of online and mobile gambling and gambling-like spaces. Social casino apps, for instance, are widely popular in Australia. The slots social casino app Slotomania was the most downloaded product in the iTunes store in 2012 (Metherell). In response to the high rate of different forms of gambling in Australia, a range of disparate interest groups have identified the expansion of gambling as a concerning trend. Health researchers have pointed out that online gamblers have a higher risk of experiencing problems with gambling (at 30%) compared to 15% in offline bettors (Hastings). The incidence of gambling problems is also disproportionately high in specific vulnerable demographics, including university students (Cervini), young adults prone to substance abuse problems (Hayatbakhsh et al.), migrants (Tanasornnarong et al.; Scull & Woolcock; Ohtsuka & Ohtsuka), pensioners (Hing & Breen), female players (Lee), Aboriginal communities (Young et al.; McMillen & Donnelly) and individuals experiencing homelessness (Holsworth et al.). While there is general recognition of the personal and public health impacts of gambling in Australia, there is a contradiction in the approach to gambling at a governance level. On one hand, its expansion is promoted and even encouraged by the federal and state governments, as gambling is an enormous source of revenue, as evidenced, for example, by the construction of the new Crown casino in Barangaroo in Sydney (Markham & Young). Campaigns trying to limit the use of poker machines, which are associated with concerns over problem gambling and addiction, are deemed by the gambling lobby as un-Australian. Paradoxically, efforts to restrict gambling or control gambling winnings have also been described as un-Australian, such as in the Australian Taxation Office’s campaign against MONA’s founder, David Walsh, whose immense art collection was acquired with the funds from a gambling scheme (Global Mail). On the other hand, people experiencing problems with gambling are often categorised as addicts and the ultimate blame (and responsibility) is attributed to the individual. In Australia, attitudes towards people who are arguably addicted to gambling are different than those towards individuals afflicted by alcohol or drug abuse (Jean). While “Australians tend to be sympathetic towards people with alcohol and other drug addictions who seek help,” unless it is seen as one of the more socially acceptable forms of occasional, controlled gambling (such as sports betting, gambling on the Melbourne Cup or celebrating ANZAC Day with Two-Up), gambling is framed as an individual “problem” and “moral failing” (Jean). The expansion of gambling is the backdrop to another development in health care and public health discourse, which have for some time now been devoted to the ideal of what Lupton has called the “digitally engaged patient” (Lupton). Technologies are central to the delivery of this model of health service provision that puts the patient at the centre of, and responsible for, their own health and medical care. Lupton has pointed out how this discourse, while appearing new, is in fact the latest version of the 1970s emphasis on the ‘patient as consumer’, an idea given an extra injection by the massive development and availability of digital and interactive web-based and mobile platforms, many of these directed towards the provision of health and health-related information and services. What this means for patients is that, rather than relying solely on professional medical expertise and care, the patient is encouraged to take on some of this medical/health work to conduct practices of ‘self-care’ (Lupton). The Discourse of ‘Self-Management’ and ‘Self-Care’ The model of ‘self-care’ and ‘self-management’ by ‘empowering’ digital technology has now become a dominant discourse within health and medicine, and is increasingly deployed across a range of related sectors such as welfare services. In recent research conducted on homelessness and mobile media, for example, government department staff involved in the reform of welfare services referred to ‘self-management’ as the new service paradigm that underpins their digital reform strategy. Echoing ideas and language similar to the “digitally engaged patient”, customers of Centrelink, Medicare and other ‘human services’ are being encouraged (through planned strategic initiatives aimed at shifting targeted customer groups online) to transact with government services digitally and manage their own personal profiles and health information. One departmental staff member described this in terms of an “opportunity cost”, the savings in time otherwise spent standing in long queues in service centres (Humphry). Rather than view these examples as isolated incidents taking place within or across sectors or disciplines, these are better understood as features of an emerging ‘discursive formation’ , a term Foucault used to describe the way in which particular institutions and/or the state establish a regime of truth, or an accepted social reality and which gives definition to a new historical episteme and subject: in this case that of the self-disciplined and “digitally engaged medical/health patient”. As Foucault explained, once this subject has become fully integrated into and across the social field, it is no longer easy to excavate, since it lies below the surface of articulation and is held together through everyday actions, habits and institutional routines and techniques that appear to be universal, necessary and/normal. The way in which this citizen subject becomes a universal model and norm, however, is not a straightforward or linear story and since we are in the midst of its rise, is not a story with a foretold conclusion. Nevertheless, across a range of different fields of governance: medicine; health and welfare, we can see signs of this emerging figure of the self-caring “digitally engaged patient” constituted from a range of different techniques and practices of self-governance. In Australia, this figure is at the centre of a concerted strategy of service digitisation involving a number of cross sector initiatives such as Australia’s National EHealth Strategy (2008), the National Digital Economy Strategy (2011) and the Australian Public Service Mobile Roadmap (2013). This figure of the self-caring “digitally engaged” patient, aligns well and is entirely compatible with neo-liberal formulations of the individual and the reduced role of the state as a provider of welfare and care. Berry refers to Foucault’s definition of neoliberalism as outlined in his lectures to the College de France as a “particular form of post-welfare state politics in which the state essentially outsources the responsibility of the ‘well-being' of the population” (65). In the case of gambling, the neoliberal defined state enables the wedding of two seemingly contradictory stances: promoting gambling as a major source of revenue and capitalisation on the one hand, and identifying and treating gambling addiction as an individual pursuit and potential risk on the other. Risk avoidance strategies are focused on particular groups of people who are targeted for self-treatment to avoid the harm of gambling addiction, which is similarly framed as individual rather than socially and systematically produced. What unites and makes possible this alignment of neoliberalism and the new “digitally engaged subject/patient” is first and foremost, the construction of a subject in a chronic state of ill health. This figure is positioned as terminal from the start. They are ‘sick’, a ‘patient’, an ‘addict’: in need of immediate and continuous treatment. Secondly, this neoliberal patient/addict is enabled (we could even go so far as to say ‘empowered’) by digital technology, especially smartphones and the apps available through these devices in the form of a myriad of applications for intervening and treating ones afflictions. These apps range fromself-tracking programs such as mood regulators through to social media interventions. Anti-Pokie Apps and the Neoliberal Gambler We now turn to two examples which illustrate this alignment between neoliberalism and the new “digitally engaged subject/patient” in relation to gambling. Anti-gambling apps function to both replace or ‘take the place’ of institutions and individuals actively involved in the treatment of problem gambling and re-engineer this service through the logics of ‘self-care’ and ‘self-management’. Here, we depart somewhat from Foucault’s model of disciplinary power summed up in the institution (with the prison exemplifying this disciplinary logic) and move towards Deleuze’s understanding of power as exerted by the State not through enclosures but through diffuse and rhizomatic information flows and technologies (Deleuze). At the same time, we retain Foucault’s attention to the role and agency of the user in this power-dynamic, identifiable in the technics of self-regulation and in his ideas on governmentality. We now turn to analyse these apps more closely, and explore the way in which these articulate and perform these disciplinary logics. The app Quit Pokies was a joint venture of the North East Primary Care Partnership, the Victorian Local Governance Association and the Moreland City Council, launched in early 2014. The idea of the rational, self-reflexive and agentic user is evident in the description of the app by app developer Susan Rennie who described it this way: What they need is for someone to tap them on the shoulder and tell them to get out of there… I thought the phone could be that tap on the shoulder. The “tap on the shoulder” feature uses geolocation and works by emitting a sound alert when the user enters a gaming venue. It also provides information about each user’s losses at that venue. This “tap on the shoulder” is both an alert and a reprimand from past gambling sessions. Through the Responsible Gambling Fund, the NSW government also launched an anti-pokie app in 2013, Gambling Terminator, including a similar feature. The app runs on Apple and Android smartphone platforms, and when a person is inside a gambling venue in New South Wales it: sends reminder messages that interrupt gaming-machine play and gives you a chance to re-think your choices. It also provides instant access to live phone and online counselling services which operate 24 hours a day, seven days a week. (Google Play Store) Yet an approach that tries to prevent harm by anticipating the harm that will come from gambling at the point of entering a venue, also eliminates the chance of potential negotiations and encounters a user might have during a visit to the pub and how this experience will unfold. It reduces the “tap on the shoulder”, which may involve a far wider set of interactions and affects, to a software operation and it frames the pub or the club (which under some conditions functions as hubs for socialization and community building) as dangerous places that should be avoided. This has the potential to lead to further stigmatisation of gamblers, their isolation and their exclusion from everyday spaces. Moreland Mayor, Councillor Tapinos captures the implicit framing of self-care as a private act in his explanation of the app as a method for problem gamblers to avoid being stigmatised by, for example, publicly attending group meetings. Yet, curiously, the app has the potential to create a new kind of public stigmatisation through potentially drawing other peoples’ attention to users’ gambling play (as the alarm is triggered) generating embarrassment and humiliation at being “caught out” in an act framed as aberrant and literally, “alarming”. Both Quit Pokies and Gambling Terminator require their users to perform ‘acts’ of physical and affective labour aimed at behaviour change and developing the skills of self-control. After downloading Quit Pokies on the iPhone and launching the app, the user is presented an initial request: “Before you set up this app. please write a list of the pokies venues that you regularly use because the app will ask you to identify these venues so it can send you alerts if you spend time in these locations. It will also use your set up location to identify other venues you might use so we recommend that you set up the App in the location where you spend most time. Congratulation on choosing Quit Pokies.”Self-performed processes include installation, setting up, updating the app software, programming in gambling venues to be detected by the smartphone’s inbuilt GPS, monitoring and responding to the program’s alerts and engaging in alternate “legitimate” forms of leisure such as going to the movies or the library, having coffee with a friend or browsing Facebook. These self-performed labours can be understood as ‘technologies of the self’, a term used by Foucault to describe the way in which social members are obliged to regulate and police their ‘selves’ through a range of different techniques. While Foucault traces the origins of ‘technologies of the self’ to the Greco-Roman texts with their emphasis on “care of oneself” as one of the duties of citizenry, he notes the shift to “self-knowledge” under Christianity around the 8th century, where it became bound up in ideals of self-renunciation and truth. Quit Pokies and Gambling Terminator may signal a recuperation of the ideal of self-care, over confession and disclosure. These apps institute a set of bodily activities and obligations directed to the user’s health and wellbeing, aided through activities of self-examination such as charting your recovery through a Recovery Diary and implementing a number of suggested “Strategies for Change” such as “writing a list” and “learning about ways to manage your money better”. Writing is central to the acts of self-examination. As Jeremy Prangnell, gambling counsellor from Mission Australia for Wollongong and Shellharbour regions explained the app is “like an electronic diary, which is a really common tool for people who are trying to change their behaviour” (Thompson). The labours required by users are also implicated in the functionality and performance of the platform itself suggesting the way in which ‘technologies of the self’ simultaneously function as a form of platform work: user labour that supports and sustains the operation of digital systems and is central to the performance and continuation of digital capitalism in general (Humphry, Demanding Media). In addition to the acts of labour performed on the self and platform, bodies are themselves potentially mobilised (and put into new circuits of consumption and production), as a result of triggers to nudge users away from gambling venues, towards a range of other cultural practices in alternative social spaces considered to be more legitimate.Conclusion Whether or not these technological interventions are effective or successful is yet to be tested. Indeed, the lack of recent activity in the community forums and preponderance of issues reported on installation and use suggests otherwise, pointing to a need for more empirical research into these developments. Regardless, what we’ve tried to identify is the way in which apps such as these embody a new kind of subject-state relation that emphasises self-control of gambling harm and hastens the divestment of institutional and social responsibility at a time when gambling is going through an immense period of expansion in many respects backed by and sanctioned by the state. Patterns of smartphone take up in the mainstream population and the rise of the so called ‘mobile only population’ (ACMA) provide support for this new subject and service paradigm and are often cited as the rationale for digital service reform (APSMR). Media convergence feeds into these dynamics: service delivery becomes the new frontier for the merging of previously separate media distribution systems (Dwyer). Letters, customer service centres, face-to-face meetings and web sites, are combined and in some instances replaced, with online and mobile media platforms, accessible from multiple and mobile devices. These changes are not, however, simply the migration of services to a digital medium with little effective change to the service itself. Health and medical services are re-invented through their technological re-assemblage, bringing into play new meanings, practices and negotiations among the state, industry and neoliberal subjects (in the case of problem gambling apps, a new subjectivity, the ‘neoliberal addict’). These new assemblages are as much about bringing forth a new kind of subject and mode of governance, as they are a solution to problem gambling. This figure of the self-treating “gambler addict” can be seen to be a template for, and prototype of, a more generalised and universalised self-governing citizen: one that no longer needs or makes demands on the state but who can help themselves and manage their own harm. Paradoxically, there is the potential for new risks and harms to the very same users that accompanies this shift: their outright exclusion as a result of deprivation from basic and assumed digital access and literacy, the further stigmatisation of gamblers, the elimination of opportunities for proximal support and their exclusion from everyday spaces. References Albarrán-Torres, César. “Gambling-Machines and the Automation of Desire.” Platform: Journal of Media and Communication 5.1 (2013). Australian Communications and Media Authority. “Australians Cut the Cord.” Research Snapshots. Sydney: ACMA (2013) Berry, David. Critical Theory and the Digital. Broadway, New York: Bloomsbury Academic, 2014 Berry, David. Stunlaw: A Critical Review of Politics, Arts and Technology. 2012. ‹http://stunlaw.blogspot.com.au/2012/03/code-foucault-and-neoliberal.html›. Caldwell, G. “Some Historical and Sociological Characteristics of Australian Gambling.” Gambling in Australia. Eds. G. Caldwell, B. Haig, M. Dickerson, and L. Sylan. Sydney: Croom Helm Australia, 1985. 18-27. Cervini, E. “High Stakes for Gambling Students.” The Age 8 Nov. 2013. ‹http://www.theage.com.au/national/education/high-stakes-for-gambling-students-20131108-2x5cl.html›. Deleuze, Gilles. "Postscript on the Societies of Control." October (1992): 3-7. Foucault, Michel. “Technologies of the Self.” Eds. Luther H. Martin, Huck Gutman and Patrick H. Hutton. Boston: University of Massachusetts Press, 1988 Hastings, E. “Online Gamblers More at Risk of Addiction.” Herald Sun 13 Oct. 2013. ‹http://www.heraldsun.com.au/news/online-gamblers-more-at-risk-of-addiction/story-fni0fiyv-1226739184629#!›.Hayatbakhsh, Mohammad R., et al. "Young Adults' Gambling and Its Association with Mental Health and Substance Use Problems." Australian and New Zealand Journal of Public Health 36.2 (2012): 160-166. Hing, Nerilee, and Helen Breen. "A Profile of Gaming Machine Players in Clubs in Sydney, Australia." Journal of Gambling Studies 18.2 (2002): 185-205. Holdsworth, Louise, Margaret Tiyce, and Nerilee Hing. "Exploring the Relationship between Problem Gambling and Homelessness: Becoming and Being Homeless." Gambling Research 23.2 (2012): 39. Humphry, Justine. “Demanding Media: Platform Work and the Shaping of Work and Play.” Scan: Journal of Media Arts Culture, 10.2 (2013): 1-13. Humphry, Justine. “Homeless and Connected: Mobile Phones and the Internet in the Lives of Homeless Australians.” Australian Communications Consumer Action Network. Sep. 2014. ‹https://www.accan.org.au/grants/completed-grants/619-homeless-and-connected›.Lee, Timothy Jeonglyeol. "Distinctive Features of the Australian Gambling Industry and Problems Faced by Australian Women Gamblers." Tourism Analysis 14.6 (2009): 867-876. Lupton, D. “The Digitally Engaged Patient: Self-Monitoring and Self-Care in the Digital Health Era.” Social Theory & Health 11.3 (2013): 256-70. Markham, Francis, and Martin Young. “Packer’s Barangaroo Casino and the Inevitability of Pokies.” The Conversation 9 July 2013. ‹http://theconversation.com/packers-barangaroo-casino-and-the-inevitability-of-pokies-15892›. Markham, Francis, and Martin Young. “Who Wins from ‘Big Gambling’ in Australia?” The Conversation 6 Mar. 2014. ‹http://theconversation.com/who-wins-from-big-gambling-in-australia-22930›.McMillen, Jan, and Katie Donnelly. "Gambling in Australian Indigenous Communities: The State of Play." The Australian Journal of Social Issues 43.3 (2008): 397. Ohtsuka, Keis, and Thai Ohtsuka. “Vietnamese Australian Gamblers’ Views on Luck and Winning: Universal versus Culture-Specific Schemas.” Asian Journal of Gambling Issues and Public Health 1.1 (2010): 34-46. Scull, Sue, Geoffrey Woolcock. “Problem Gambling in Non-English Speaking Background Communities in Queensland, Australia: A Qualitative Exploration.” International Gambling Studies 5.1 (2005): 29-44. Tanasornnarong, Nattaporn, Alun Jackson, and Shane Thomas. “Gambling among Young Thai People in Melbourne, Australia: An Exploratory Study.” International Gambling Studies 4.2 (2004): 189-203. Thompson, Angela, “Live Gambling Odds Tipped for the Chop.” Illawarra Mercury 22 May 2013: 6. Metherell, Mark. “Virtual Pokie App a Hit - But ‘Not Gambling.’” Sydney Morning Herald 13 Jan. 2013. ‹http://www.smh.com.au/digital-life/smartphone-apps/virtual-pokie-app-a-hit--but-not-gambling-20130112-2cmev.html#ixzz2QVlsCJs1›. Worthington, Andrew, et al. "Gambling Participation in Australia: Findings from the National Household Expenditure Survey." Review of Economics of the Household 5.2 (2007): 209-221. Young, Martin, et al. "The Changing Landscape of Indigenous Gambling in Northern Australia: Current Knowledge and Future Directions." International Gambling Studies 7.3 (2007): 327-343. Ziolkowski, S. “The World Count of Gaming Machines 2013.” Gaming Technologies Association, 2014. ‹http://www.gamingta.com/pdf/World_Count_2014.pdf›.

IntroductionSydney’s Garden Palace was a magnificent building with a grandeur that dominated the skyline, stretching from the site of the current State Library of New South Wales to the building that now houses the Sydney Conservatorium of Music. The Palace captivated society from its opening in 1879. This article outlines the building of one of Sydney’s early structural icons and how, despite being destroyed by fire after three short years in 1882, it had an enormous impact on the burgeoning colonial community of New South Wales, thus building a physical structure, pride and a suite of memories.Design and ConstructionIn February 1878, the Colonial Secretary’s Office announced that “it is intended to hold under the supervision of the Agricultural Society of New South Wales an international Exhibition in Sydney in August 1879” (Official Record ix). By December the same year it had become clear that the Agricultural Society lacked the resources to complete the project and control passed to the state government. Colonial Architect James Barnet was directed to prepare “plans for a building suitable for an international exhibition, proposed to be built in the Inner Domain” (Official Record xx). Within three days he had submitted a set of drawings for approval. From this point on there was a great sense of urgency to complete the building in less than 10 months for the exhibition opening the following September.The successful contractor was John Young, a highly experienced building contractor who had worked on the Crystal Palace for the 1851 London International Exhibition and locally on the General Post Office and Exhibition Building at Prince Alfred Park (Kent 6). Young was confident, procuring electric lights from London so that work could be carried out 24 hours a day, to ensure that the building was delivered on time. The structure was built, as detailed in the Colonial Record (1881), using over 1 million metres of timber, 2.5 million bricks and 220 tonnes of galvanised corrugated iron. Remarkably the building was designed as a temporary structure to house the Exhibition. At the end of the Exhibition the building was not dismantled as originally planned and was instead repurposed for government office space and served to house, among other things, records and objects of historical significance. Ultimately the provisional building materials used for the Garden Palace were more suited to a temporary structure, in contrast with those used for the more permanent structures built at the same time which are still standing today.The building was an architectural and engineering wonder set in a cathedral-like cruciform design, showcasing a stained-glass skylight in the largest dome in the southern hemisphere (64 metres high and 30 metres in diameter). The total floor space of the exhibition building was three and half hectares, and the area occupied by the Garden Palace and related buildings—including the Fine Arts Gallery, Agricultural Hall, Machinery Hall and 10 restaurants and places of refreshment—was an astounding 14 hectares (Official Record xxxvi). To put the scale of the Garden Palace into contemporary perspective it was approximately twice the size of the Queen Victoria Building that stands on Sydney’s George Street today.Several innovative features set the building apart from other Sydney structures of the day. The rainwater downpipes were enclosed in hollow columns of pine along the aisles, ventilation was provided through the floors and louvered windows (Official Record xxi) while a Whittier’s Steam Elevator enabled visitors to ascend the north tower and take in the harbour views (“Among the Machinery” 70-71). The building dominated the Sydney skyline, serving as a visual anchor point that welcomed visitors arriving in the city by boat:one of the first objects that met our view as, after 12 o’clock, we proceeded up Port Jackson, was the shell of the Exhibition Building which is so rapidly rising on the Domain, and which next September, is to dazzle the eyes of the world with its splendours. (“A ‘Bohemian’s’ Holiday Notes” 2)The DomeThe dome of the Garden Palace was directly above the intersection of the nave and transept and rested on a drum, approximately 30 metres in diameter. The drum featured 36 oval windows which flooded the space below with light. The dome was made of wood covered with corrugated galvanised iron featuring 12 large lattice ribs and 24 smaller ribs bound together with purlins of wood strengthened with iron. At the top of the dome was a lantern and stained glass skylight designed by Messrs. Lyon and Cottier. It was light blue, powdered with golden stars with wooden ribs in red, buff and gold (Notes 6). The painting and decorating of the dome commenced just one month before the exhibition was due to open. The dome was the sixth largest dome in the world at the time. During construction, contractor Mr Young allowed visitors be lifted in a cage to view the building’s progress.During the construction of the Lantern which surmounts the Dome of the Exhibition, visitors have been permitted, through the courtesy of Mr. Young, to ascend in the cage conveying materials for work. This cage is lifted by a single cable, which was constructed specially of picked Manilla hemp, for hoisting into position the heavy timbers used in the construction. The sensation whilst ascending is a most novel one, and must resemble that experienced in ballooning. To see the building sinking slowly beneath you as you successively reach the levels of the galleries, and the roofs of the transept and aisles is an experience never to be forgotten, and it seems a pity that no provision can be made for visitors, on paying a small fee, going up to the dome. (“View from the Lantern of the Dome Exhibition” 8)The ExhibitionInternational Exhibitions presented the opportunity for countries to express their national identities and demonstrate their economic and technological achievements. They allowed countries to showcase the very best examples of contemporary art, handicrafts and the latest technologies particularly in manufacturing (Pont and Proudfoot 231).The Sydney International Exhibition was the ninth International Exhibition and the colony’s first, and was responsible for bringing the world to Sydney at a time when the colony was prosperous and full of potential. The Exhibition—opening on 17 September 1879 and closing on 20 April 1880—had an enormous impact on the community, it boosted the economy and was the catalyst for improving the city’s infrastructure. It was a great source of civic pride.Image 1: The International Exhibition Sydney, 1879-1880, supplement to the Illustrated Sydney News Jan. 1880. Image credit: Mitchell Library, State Library of NSW (call no.: DL X8/3)This bird’s eye view of the Garden Palace shows how impressive the main structure was and how much of the Gardens and Domain were occupied by ancillary buildings for the Exhibition. Based on an original drawing by John Thomas Richardson, chief engraver at the Illustrated Sydney News, this lithograph features a key identifying buildings including the Art Gallery, Machinery Hall, and Agricultural Hall. Pens and sheds for livestock can also be seen. The parade ground was used throughout the Exhibition for displays of animals. The first notable display was the International Show of Sheep featuring Australian, French and English sheep; not surprisingly the shearing demonstrations proved to be particularly popular with the community.Approximately 34 countries and their colonies participated in the Exhibition, displaying the very best examples of technology, industry and art laid out in densely packed courts (Barnet n.p.). There were approximately 14,000 exhibits (Official Record c) which included displays of Bohemian glass, tapestries, fine porcelain, fabrics, pyramids of gold, metals, minerals, wood carvings, watches, ethnographic specimens, and heavy machinery. Image 2: “Meet Me under the Dome.” Illustrated Sydney News 1 Nov. 1879: 4. Official records cite that between 19,853 and 24,000 visitors attended the Exhibition on the opening day of 17 September 1879, and over 1.1 million people visited during its seven months of operation. Sizeable numbers considering the population of the colony, at the time, was just over 700,000 (New South Wales Census).The Exhibition helped to create a sense of place and community and was a popular destination for visitors. On crowded days the base of the dome became a favourite meeting place for visitors, so much so that “meet me under the dome” became a common expression in Sydney during the Exhibition (Official Record lxxxiii).Attendance was steady and continuous throughout the course of the Exhibition and, despite exceeding the predicted cost by almost four times, the Exhibition was deemed a resounding success. The Executive Commissioner Mr P.A. Jennings remarked at the closing ceremony:this great undertaking […] marks perhaps the most important epoch that has occurred in our history. In holding this exhibition we have entered into a new arena and a race of progress among the nations of the earth, and have placed ourselves in kindly competition with the most ancient States of the old and new world. (Official Record ciii)Initially the cost of admission was set at 5 shillings and later dropped to 1 shilling. Season tickets for the Exhibition were also available for £3 3s which entitled the holder to unlimited entry during all hours of general admission. Throughout the Exhibition, season ticket holders accounted for 76,278 admissions. The Exhibition boosted the economy and encouraged authorities to improve the city’s services and facilities which helped to build a sense of community as well as pride in the achievement of such a fantastic structure. A steam-powered tramway was installed to transport exhibition-goers around the city, after the Exhibition, the tramway network was expanded and by 1905–1906 the trams were converted to electric traction (Freestone 32).After the exhibition closed, the imposing Garden Palace building was used as office space and storage for various government departments.An Icon DestroyedIn the early hours of 22 September 1882 tragedy struck when the Palace was engulfed by fire (“Destruction of the Garden Palace” 7). The building – and all its contents – destroyed.Image 3: Burning of the Garden Palace from Eaglesfield, Darlinghurst, sketched at 5.55am, Sep 22/82. Image credit: Mitchell Library, State Library of NSW (call no.: SSV/137) Many accounts and illustrations of the Garden Palace fire can be found in contemporary newspapers and artworks. A rudimentary drawing by an unknown artist held by the State Library of New South Wales appears to have been created as the Palace was burning. The precise time and location is recorded on the painting, suggesting it was painted from Eaglesfield, a school on Darlinghurst Road. It purveys a sense of immediacy giving some insight into the chaos and heat of the tragedy. A French artist living in Sydney, Lucien Henry, was among those who attempted to capture the fire. His assistant, G.H. Aurousseau, described the event in the Technical Gazette in 1912:Mister Henry went out onto the balcony and watched until the Great Dome toppled in; it was then early morning; he went back to his studio procured a canvas, sat down and painted the whole scene in a most realistic manner, showing the fig trees in the Domain, the flames rising through the towers, the dome falling in and the reflected light of the flames all around. (Technical Gazette 33-35)The painting Henry produced is not the watercolour held by the State Library of New South Wales, however it is interesting to see how people were moved to document the destruction of such an iconic building in the city’s history.What Was Destroyed?The NSW Legislative Assembly debate of 26 September 1882, together with newspapers of the day, documented what was lost in the fire. The Garden Palace housed the foundation collection of the Technological and Sanitary Museum (the precursor to the Powerhouse Museum, now the Museum of Applied Arts and Sciences), due to open on 1 December 1882. This collection included significant ethnological specimens such as Australian Indigenous artefacts, many of which were acquired from the Sydney International Exhibition. The Art Society of New South Wales had hung 300 paintings in preparation for their annual art exhibition due to open on 2 October of that year, all of these paintings consumed by fire.The Records of the Crown Lands Occupation Office were lost along with the 1881 Census (though the summary survived). Numerous railway surveys were lost, as were: £7,000 worth of statues, between 20,000 and 30,000 plants and the holdings of the Linnean Society offices and museum housed on the ground floor. The Eastern Suburbs Brass Band performed the day before at the opening of the Eastern Suburbs Horticultural Society Flower show; all the instruments were stored in the Garden Palace and were destroyed. Several Government Departments also lost significant records, including the: Fisheries Office; Mining Department; Harbour and Rivers Department; and, as mentioned, the Census Department.The fire was so ferocious that the windows in the terraces along Macquarie Street cracked with the heat and sheets of corrugated iron were blown as far away as Elizabeth Bay. How Did The Fire Start?No one knows how the fire started on that fateful September morning, and despite an official enquiry no explanation was ever delivered. One theory blamed the wealthy residents of Macquarie Street, disgruntled at losing their harbour views. Another was that it was burnt to destroy records stored in the basement of the building that contained embarrassing details about the convict heritage of many distinguished families. Margaret Lyon, daughter of the Garden Palace decorator John Lyon, wrote in her diary:a gentleman who says a boy told him when he was putting out the domain lights, that he saw a man jump out of the window and immediately after observed smoke, they are advertising for the boy […]. Everyone seems to agree on his point that it has been done on purpose – Today a safe has been found with diamonds, sapphires and emeralds, there were also some papers in it but they were considerably charred. The statue of her majesty or at least what remains of it, for it is completely ruined – the census papers were also ruined, they were ready almost to be sent to the printers, the work of 30 men for 14 months. Valuable government documents, railway and other plans all gone. (MLMSS 1381/Box 1/Item 2) There are many eyewitness accounts of the fire that day. From nightwatchman Mr Frederick Kirchen and his replacement Mr John McKnight, to an emotional description by 14-year-old student Ethel Pockley. Although there were conflicting accounts as to where the fire may have started, it seems likely that the fire started in the basement with flames rising around the statue of Queen Victoria, situated directly under the dome. The coroner did not make a conclusive finding on the cause of the fire but was scathing of the lack of diligence by the authorities in housing such important items in a building that was not well-secured a was a potential fire hazard.Building a ReputationA number of safes were known to have been in the building storing valuables and records. One such safe, a fireproof safe manufactured by Milner and Son of Liverpool, was in the southern corner of the building near the southern tower. The contents of this safe were unscathed in contrast with the contents of other safes, the contents of which were destroyed. The Milner safe was a little discoloured and blistered on the outside but otherwise intact. “The contents included three ledgers, or journals, a few memoranda and a plan of the exhibition”—the glue was slightly melted—the plan was a little discoloured and a few loose papers were a little charred but overall the contents were “sound and unhurt”—what better advertising could one ask for! (“The Garden Palace Fire” 5).barrangal dyara (skin and bones): Rebuilding CommunityThe positive developments for Sydney and the colony that stemmed from the building and its exhibition, such as public transport and community spirit, grew and took new forms. Yet, in the years since 1882 the memory of the Garden Palace and its disaster faded from the consciousness of the Sydney community. The great loss felt by Indigenous communities went unresolved.Image 4: barrangal dyara (skin and bones). Image credit: Sarah Morley.In September 2016 artist Jonathan Jones presented barrangal dyara (skin and bones), a large scale sculptural installation on the site of the Garden Palace Building in Sydney’s Royal Botanic Garden. The installation was Jones’s response to the immense loss felt throughout Australia with the destruction of countless Aboriginal objects in the fire. The installation featured thousands of bleached white shields made of gypsum that were laid out to show the footprint of the Garden Palace and represent the rubble left after the fire.Based on four typical designs from Aboriginal nations of the south-east, these shields not only raise the chalky bones of the building, but speak to the thousands of shields that would have had cultural presence in this landscape over generations. (Pike 33)ConclusionSydney’s Garden Palace was a stunning addition to the skyline of colonial Sydney. A massive undertaking, the Palace opened, to great acclaim, in 1879 and its effect on the community of Sydney and indeed the colony of New South Wales was sizeable. There were brief discussions, just after the fire, about rebuilding this great structure in a more permanent fashion for the centenary Exhibition in 1888 (“[From Our Own Correspondents] New South Wales” 5). Ultimately, it was decided that this achievement of the colony of New South Wales would be recorded in history, gifting a legacy of national pride and positivity on the one hand, but on the other an example of the destructive colonial impact on Indigenous communities. For many Sydney-siders today this history is as obscured as the original foundations of the physical building. What we build—iconic structures, civic pride, a sense of community—require maintenance and remembering. References“Among the Machinery.” The Sydney Mail and New South Wales Advertiser 10 Jan. 1880: 70-71.Aurousseau, G.H. “Lucien Henry: First Lecturer in Art at the Sydney Technical College.” Technical Gazette 2.III (1912): 33-35.Barnet, James. International Exhibition, Sydney, 1880: References to the Plans Showing the Space and Position Occupied by the Various Exhibits in the Garden Palace. Sydney: Colonial Architect’s Office, 1880.“A ‘Bohemian’s’ Holiday Notes.” The Singleton Argus and Upper Hunter General Advocate 23 Apr. 1879: 2.Census Department. New South Wales Census. 1881. 3 Mar. 2017 <http://hccda.ada.edu.au/pages/NSW-1881-census-02_vi>. “Destruction of the Garden Palace.” Sydney Morning Herald 23 Sep. 1882: 7.Freestone, Robert. “Space Society and Urban Reform.” Colonial City, Global City, Sydney’s International Exhibition 1879. Eds. Peter Proudfoot, Roslyn Maguire, and Robert Freestone. Darlinghurst, NSW: Crossing P, 2000. 15-33.“[From Our Own Correspondents] New South Wales.” The Age (Melbourne, Vic.) 30 Sep. 1882: 5.“The Garden Palace Fire.” Sydney Morning Herald 25 Sep. 1882: 5.Illustrated Sydney News and New South Wales Agriculturalist and Grazier 1 Nov. 1879: 4.“International Exhibition.” Australian Town and Country Journal 15 Feb. 1879: 11.Kent, H.C. “Reminiscences of Building Methods in the Seventies under John Young. Lecture.” Architecture: An Australian Magazine of Architecture and the Arts Nov. (1924): 5-13.Lyon, Margaret. Unpublished Manuscript Diary. MLMSS 1381/Box 1/Item 2.New South Wales, Legislative Assembly. Debates 22 Sep. 1882: 542-56.Notes on the Sydney International Exhibition of 1879. Melbourne: Government Printer, 1881.Official Record of the Sydney International Exhibition 1879. Sydney: Government Printer, 1881.Pike, Emma. “barrangal dyara (skin and bones).” Jonathan Jones: barrangal dyara (skin and bones). Eds. Ross Gibson, Jonathan Jones, and Genevieve O’Callaghan. Balmain: Kaldor Public Arts Project, 2016.Pont, Graham, and Peter Proudfoot. “The Technological Movement and the Garden Palace.” Colonial City, Global City, Sydney’s International Exhibition 1879. Eds. Peter Proudfoot, Roslyn Maguire, and Robert Freestone. Darlinghurst, NSW: Crossing Press, 2000. 239-249.“View from the Lantern of the Dome of the Exhibition.” Illustrated Sydney News and New South Wales Agriculturalist and Grazier 9 Aug. 1879: 8.

Pornography is neither a documentary media genre that documents what real sex in everyday life looks like, nor is it a pedagogical or moral media genre aimed at showing what ideal sex (in terms of health or morality) should look like. Instead, pornography is a fictional media genre that depicts sexual fantasies and explicitly presents naked bodies and sexual activities for the purpose of sexual arousal (Williams, 1989; McKee et al., 2020). Regarding media ethics and media effects, pornography has traditionally been viewed as highly problematic. Pornographic material has been accused of portraying sexuality in unhealthy, morally questionable and often sexist ways, thereby harming performers, audiences, and society at large. In the age of the Internet, pornography has become more diverse, accessible, and widespread than ever (Döring, 2009; Miller et al., 2020). Consequently, the depiction of sexuality in pornography is the focus of a growing number of content analyses of both mass media (e.g., erotic and pornographic novels and movies) and social media (e.g., erotic and pornographic stories, photos and videos shared via online platforms). Typically, pornography’s portrayals of sexuality are examined by measuring the prevalence and frequency of sexual practices and related gender roles via quantitative content analysis (for research reviews see Carrotte et al., 2020; Miller & McBain, 2022). It should be noted that the conceptual differentiation between erotica and pornography is complex and that “pornography” remains an ideologically charged, and often negatively connotated, concept. Hence, the research literature sometimes uses the broader and more neutral term “sexually explicit material” (SEM) in place of “pornographic material” (McKee et al., 2020). Furthermore, it must be emphasized that in the context of content analyses of SEM the focus is typically on legal pornography. Legal visual pornography is produced with adults who have given their informed consent for their image to be recorded, and then disseminated and marketed as SEM. Illegal pornography is usually beyond the scope of media content research, as the acquisition and use of illegal material would be unethical and illegal for researchers (e.g., the analysis of so-called “child pornography”, or what might be more accurately labeled “images of child sexual abuse”). Criminological and forensic research projects are exceptions to this rule. Field of application/theoretical foundation: The theories applied in pornographic media content research primarily come from four academic disciplines: communication science, psychology, sex research, and gender studies. These different theories are fairly similar in their core assumption that pornography users’ sexual cognitions and behaviors are molded by the ways in which sexuality is portrayed in pornographic material. Some of the theories also explain the typical content of pornography and point to the fact that audiences might not only be influenced by pornography but can also shape porn production through their preferences. All theories demand content analyses of pornographic material to back up their predictions. General Media Effects Theories Cultivation Theory and Social Cognitive Theory are the most commonly used media effects theories, irrespective of specific media content. They are often applied to pornographic material. Cultivation Theory (CT) was developed by communication researcher George Gerbner in the 1960s (Gerbner, 1998). CT claims that heavy media users’ perceptions of the prevalence of different societal phenomena (e.g., crimes) are shaped by the prevalence with which these phenomena occur in the media they consume (e.g., cop shows on TV). Applied to pornography, CT predicts that heavy users of pornography will severely overestimate the prevalence of sexual practices that are rare in reality, but widespread in pornography. Young people who lack real life sexual experience are regarded as particularly vulnerable for sexual cultivation effects in terms of biased perceptions of the popularity and normalcy of different performances of sexuality (e.g., name calling and slapping during sex). Another classic media effects theory that is widely adopted in pornography research is psychologist Albert Bandura’s Social Learning Theory (Bandura, 1971), later re-labeled as Social Cognitive Theory (SCT; Bandura, 2001). SCT claims that people imitate the behaviors of media role models. Applied to pornographic material, SCT predicts that media audiences will develop more favorable attitudes towards, and engage more frequently in, sexual behaviors portrayed positively in sexually explicit material. Such sexual imitation effects may influence not only attitudes toward, and engagement in, sex acts represented in pornography (e.g., anal sex), but also gender role behaviors (e.g., men acting dominantly, women acting submissively during sex), safer sex measures (e.g., lack of condom use), bodily appearance (e.g., breast augmentation), and consent communication (e.g., lack of explicitly asking for, or giving, consent to engage in different sex acts). Sexual Media Effects Theories While CT and SCT are broad media effects theories applicable to pornography as well as many other types of media content, Sexual Script Theory and the 3AM specifically address sexual media and their effects. Sexual Script Theory (SST) was developed by sociologists John Gagnon and William Simon in the 1970s (Gagnon & Simon, 1973; Simon & Gagnon, 2003; Wiederman, 2015). SST argues that human sexuality is not merely a biological instinct, but a highly complex set of cognitions and behaviors shaped by symbolic, social and cultural factors: People develop ideas about how to have sex in terms of organized cognitive schemas or “scripts” that reflect intra-psychic desires (e.g., their sexual fantasies), social norms (e.g., peers’ and partners’ sexual expectations), and cultural influences (e.g., representations of sexuality in the media they consume). SST stresses that the intra-psychic, social, and cultural determinants of individuals’ sexual scripts mutually influence each other and can change over time (Simon & Gagnon, 2003). However, in pornography research, usually only the third element of the theory (cultural influences through media representations of sexuality) is considered. Applied to pornography, SST predicts that sexual scripts presented in pornographic material (e.g., spontaneous anal sex with strangers without condoms or overt consent communication) can shape individuals’ sexual scripts. The Acquisition, Activation, and Application Model of Media Sexual Socialization (3AM) was developed more recently by communication researcher Paul Wright as a specification of SST regarding media influence (Wright, 2011). According to the 3AM, sexually explicit media content shapes cognitive schemas of sexuality in three ways: Pornography can foster the creation of new schemas (schema acquisition), it can prime extant schemas (schema activation), and it can facilitate the utilization of extant schemas to inform attitudes and behaviors (schema application). The 3AM differentiates between specific scripting effects of pornography (e.g., engaging in condom-free casual anal sex without sufficient consent communication after having observed this exact sexual script multiple times in pornography) versus abstract scripting effects (e.g., adopting a more permissive sexual worldview after having observed many people engaging in unrestricted sex in pornography). The aforementioned general and sexuality-specific media effects theories have been used predominantly to predict negative (unwanted, harmful) effects such as dangerously distorted views of sexuality and gender roles as well as engagement in risky or violent sexual behaviors, while potential positive effects have been mostly ignored. Only recently, has serious consideration been given to the beneficial effects of pornography use (e.g., sexual identity validation, sexual empowerment, improved couple communication, sexual skill acquisition, etc.) in the research literature (e.g., Döring, 2021; Döring & Mohseni, 2018; Döring et al., 2021; Kohut & Fisher, 2013; Kohut et al., 2017; Miller et al., 2018; Tillmann & Wells, 2022). Depending on specific negative and/or positive effect assumptions, different aspects of the representation of sexuality will be measured (e.g., expressions of aggression during sex or different types of sexual stimulation techniques). Gender Role, Feminist and Queer Theories Typically, analysis of the ways in which sexuality is represented in pornography involves considerations of gender relations, therefore gender role theories and feminist theories of gender (in-)equality are frequently drawn upon (e.g., Eagly, 1987). There are two main reasons for this additional theoretical focus on gender: 1) Most SEM depicts heterosexual encounters, hence the portrayal of sexuality in pornography implies a portrayal of sexual gender relations (Williams, 1989). 2) Gender relations in the media are often asymmetrical, depicting men and women in superior and subordinate positions, respectively. Such patriarchal gender relations are expected to be reflected, or even exaggerated, in pornographic material. Radical feminist approaches in particular characterize pornography as a portrayal of sexual degradation of women by men, that is so harmful to society that it should be prohibited (e.g., MacKinnon, 1991). Other feminist approaches are also critical of asymmetric gender relations in traditional mainstream pornography and call for more gender equality in SEM, such as in feminist pornography (Williams, 1989). Feminist criticism of gender roles and relations in pornography does not address the demographic variable of sex/gender alone, but also covers other diversity dimensions such as age, race/ethnicity, or disability. According to the analytical framework of intersectionality, the subordination and discrimination of women in society and media representations particularly affect those women who have multiple marginalized demographic characteristics (e.g., the representation of white women in pornography differs from that of black or Asian women; Fritz et al. 2021). Queer theory is also concerned with different racial/ethnic and sexual identities of women and their participation and representation in pornography (Ingraham 2013). Content analyses of pornography need to take into consideration that pornography is becoming increasingly diverse (Miller & McBain, 2022). Hence, content analyses need to differentiate between various pornographic sub-genres such as commercial heterosexual mainstream pornography (traditionally targeting men) versus, for example, women-friendly and couple-oriented pornography, feminist pornography, queer pornography, fetish and kink pornography, or authentic amateur and DIY (do it yourself) pornography in the form of visual or text pornography (Döring, 2021; McKee et al., 2008). Gender role, feminist, and queer theories predict that gender relations in mainstream pornography are more asymmetrical, stereotypical and patriarchal than in women- and couple-friendly, feminist and queer pornography. Sexual Fantasy and Desire Theories The above-mentioned effect theories do not address and explain the main intended effect of pornography, namely immediate sexual arousal, pleasure and satisfaction. The theories focus on linking the fictional pornographic content directly with real life opinions and behaviors, but mostly ignore the links between fictional pornographic content and sexual fantasies. Research shows that many sexual fantasies of people of all genders are unrealistic, extreme, clichéd, violent and norm-violating and that norm-violation is often what makes them arousing (e.g., Bivona et al., 2012; Critelli & Bivona, 2008; Joyal, 2015). The same might be true for pornographic content. Hence, measuring pornography, a fictional media genre, against standards of realism, health and morality might not always be in line with the main entertainment purpose of the genre. Erotizing the forbidden and dangerous (e.g, sex with family members, with mysterious strangers, with authority figures, with non-human creatures) is a common trope of sexual fantasies, hence meaningful variables to measure pornographic portrayals of sexuality could be derived from, and related to, theories of sexual fantasy and desire (e.g., Salmon et al., 2019; Stoller, 1985). Indulging in unrealistic and norm-violating fantasies and fictional media contents is part of media entertainment and may not necessarily lead to norm-violating behaviors. Competent media users should be able to differentiate between fiction and reality. Mold Theories versus Mirror Theories When analyzing and criticizing sexuality portrayals in pornography, it is important to realize that media do not just uni-directionally influence public opinions and behaviors (mold theory). Rather, media also bi-directionally reflect existing sexual relations and fantasies (mirror theory). Recent sex surveys, for example, demonstrate that engagement in consensual BDSM (Bondage/Discipline, Dominance/Submission, Sadism/Masochism) practices and rough sex (e.g., name calling, spanking, hair pulling) is fairly widespread in the general population and enjoyed by all genders (e.g., Burch & Salmon, 2019; Herbenick et al., 2021a, 2021b; Strizzi et al., 2022). Hence, it might not always be the adult industry that influences audiences’ sexualities, but also audiences’ sexual interests that influence porn production. Particularly in the digital pornography market, producers and vendors can easily analyze audience preferences through the analysis of search terms and download statistics and adopt their content accordingly. Furthermore, general beauty trends in society (e.g., regarding shaving of pubic and body hair, growing of beards, or multiple tattoos and other body art) might be mirrored in pornography (through its selection and presentation of performers) rather than of generated by it. References/combination with other methods of data collection: Manual quantitative content analyses of pornographic material can be combined with qualitative (e.g., Keft-Kennedy, 2008) as well as computational (e.g., Seehuus et al., 2019) content analyses. Furthermore, content analyses can be complemented with qualitative interviews and quantitative surveys to investigate perceptions and evaluations of the portrayals of sexuality in pornography among pornography’s creators and performers (e.g., West, 2019) and audiences (e.g., Cowan & Dunn, 1994; Hardy et al., 2022; Paasoonen, 2021; Shor, 2022). Additionally, experimental studies are helpful to measure directly how different dimensions of pornographic portrayals of sexuality are perceived and evaluated by recipients, and if and how these portrayals can affect audiences’ sexuality-related thoughts, feelings, and behaviors (e.g., Kohut & Fisher, 2013; Miller et al., 2019). Example studies for manual quantitative content analyses: Acknowledging the multidimensionality and complexity of portrayals of sexuality in pornography, a recent research review identified eight main dimensions of analysis (Miller & McBain, 2022) that are adopted and extended in this DOCA entry as: 1) violence, 2) degradation, 3) sex acts, 4) performer demographics (sex/gender, age, race/ethnicity), 5) performer bodily appearance, 6) safer sex practices, 7) relational context of sex, and 8) consent communication. Example studies and measures for all eight dimensions of pornographic portrayals of sexuality are presented in separate DOCA entries. Eight Dimension of Portrayals of Sexuality in Pornography DOCA entry 1) Violence Portrayals of Sexuality in Pornography: Violence 2) Degradation Portrayals of Sexuality in Pornography: Degradation 3) Sex Acts Portrayals of Sexuality in Pornography: Sex Acts 4) Performer Demographics Portrayals of Sexuality in Pornography: Performer Demographics 5) Performer Bodily Appearance Portrayals of Sexuality in Pornography: Performer Bodily Appearance 6) Safer Sex Practices Portrayals of Sexuality in Pornography: Safer Sex Practices 7) Relational Context of Sex Portrayals of Sexuality in Pornography: Relational Context of Sex 8) Consent Communication Portrayals of Sexuality in Pornography: Consent Communication References Bandura, A. (1971). Social learning theory. General Learning. Bandura, A. (2001). Social cognitive theory of mass communication. Media Psychology, 3(3), 265–299. https://doi.org/10.1207/S1532785XMEP0303_03 Bivona, J. M., Critelli, J. W., & Clark, M. J. (2012). Women's rape fantasies: An empirical evaluation of the major explanations. Archives of Sexual Behavior, 41(5), 1107–1119. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10508-012-9934-6 Burch, R. L., & Salmon, C. (2019). The rough stuff: Understanding aggressive consensual sex. Evolutionary Psychological Science, 5(4), 383–393. https://doi.org/10.1007/s40806-019-00196-y Carrotte, E. R., Davis, A. C., & Lim, M. S. (2020). Sexual behaviors and violence in pornography: Systematic review and narrative synthesis of video content analyses. Journal of Medical Internet Research, 22(5), Article e16702. https://doi.org/10.2196/16702 Cowan, G., & Dunn, K. F. (1994). What themes in pornography lead to perceptions of the degradation of women? Journal of Sex Research, 31(1), 11–21. https://doi.org/10.1080/00224499409551726 Critelli, J. W., & Bivona, J. M. (2008). Women's erotic rape fantasies: An evaluation of theory and research. Journal of Sex Research, 45(1), 57–70. https://doi.org/10.1080/00224490701808191 Döring, N. (2009). The Internet’s impact on sexuality: A critical review of 15 years of research. Computers in Human Behavior, 25(5), 1089–1101. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.chb.2009.04.003 Döring, N. (2021). Erotic Fan Fiction. In A. D. Lykins (Ed.), Encyclopedia of sexuality and gender (pp. 1–8). Springer. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-59531-3_65-1 Döring, N., Krämer, N., Mikhailova, V., Brand, M., Krüger, T. H. C., & Vowe, G. (2021). Sexual interaction in digital contexts and its implications for sexual health: A conceptual analysis. Frontiers in Psychology, 12, Article 769732. https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2021.769732 Döring, N., & Mohseni, M. R. (2018). Are online sexual activities and sexting good for adults’ sexual well-being? Results from a national online survey. International Journal of Sexual Health, 30(3), 250–263. https://doi.org/10.1080/19317611.2018.1491921 Eagly, A. H. (1987). Sex differences in social behavior: A social-role interpretation. Erlbaum. Fritz, N., Malic, V. [Vinny], Paul, B., & Zhou, Y. (2021). Worse than objects: The depiction of black women and men and their sexual relationship in pornography. Gender Issues 38, 100-120. https://doi.org/10.1007/s12147-020-09255-2 Gagnon, J. H., & Simon, W. (1973). Sexual conduct: The social sources of human sexuality (2. ed.). AldineTransaction. Gerbner, G. (1998). Cultivation analysis: An overview. Mass Communication and Society, 1(3-4), 175–194. https://doi.org/10.1080/15205436.1998.9677855 Hardy, J., Kukkonen, T., & Milhausen, R. (2022). Examining sexually explicit material use in adults over the age of 65 years. The Canadian Journal of Human Sexuality, 31(1), 117–129. https://doi.org/10.3138/cjhs.2021-0047 Herbenick, D., Fu, T.‑C., Patterson, C., Rosenstock Gonzalez, Y. R., Luetke, M., Svetina Valdivia, D., Eastman-Mueller, H., Guerra-Reyes, L., & Rosenberg, M. (2021a). Prevalence and characteristics of choking/strangulation during sex: Findings from a probability survey of undergraduate students. Journal of American College Health, 1–15. https://doi.org/10.1080/07448481.2021.1920599 Herbenick, D., Patterson, C., Beckmeyer, J., Gonzalez, Y. R. R., Luetke, M., Guerra-Reyes, L., Eastman-Mueller, H., Valdivia, D. S., & Rosenberg, M. (2021b). Diverse sexual behaviors in undergraduate students: Findings from a campus probability survey. The Journal of Sexual Medicine, 18(6), 1024–1041. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jsxm.2021.03.006 Ingraham, N. (2013). Queering pornography through qualitative method. International Journal of Multiple Research Approaches, 7(2), 158-159. https://doi.org/10.5172/mra.2013.7.2.218 Joyal, C. C. (2015). Defining "normophilic" and "paraphilic" sexual fantasies in a population-based sample: On the importance of considering subgroups. Sexual Medicine, 3(4), 321–330. https://doi.org/10.1002/sm2.96 Keft-Kennedy, V. (2008). Fantasising masculinity in Buffyverse slash fiction: Sexuality, violence, and the vampire. Nordic Journal of English Studies, 7(1), 49–80. Kohut, T., & Fisher, W. A. (2013). The impact of brief exposure to sexually explicit video clips on partnered female clitoral self-stimulation, orgasm and sexual satisfaction. The Canadian Journal of Human Sexuality, 22(1), 40–50. https://doi.org/10.3138/cjhs.935 Kohut, T., Fisher, W. A., & Campbell, L. (2017). Perceived effects of pornography on the couple relationship: Initial findings of open-ended, participant-informed, "bottom-up" research. Archives of Sexual Behavior, 46(2), 585–602. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10508-016-0783-6 MacKinnon, C. A. (1991). Pornography as defamation and discrimination. Boston University Law Review, 71, 793-818. McKee, A., Albury, K., & Lumby, C. (2008). The porn report. Melbourne University Press. McKee, A., Byron, P., Litsou, K., & Ingham, R. (2020). An interdisciplinary definition of pornography: Results from a global Delphi panel. Archives of Sexual Behavior, 49(3), 1085–1091. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10508-019-01554-4 Miller, D. J., Hald, G. M., & Kidd, G. (2018). Self-perceived effects of pornography consumption among heterosexual men. Psychology of Men & Masculinity, 19(3), 469–476. https://doi.org/10.1037/men0000112 Miller, D. J., & McBain, K. A. (2022). The content of contemporary, mainstream pornography: A literature review of content analytic studies. American Journal of Sexuality Education, 17(2), 219–256. https://doi.org/10.1080/15546128.2021.2019648 Miller, D. J., McBain, K. A., & Raggatt, P. T. F. (2019). An experimental investigation into pornography’s effect on men’s perceptions of the likelihood of women engaging in porn-like sex. Psychology of Popular Media Culture, 8(4), 365–375. https://doi.org/10.1037/ppm0000202 Miller, D. J., Raggatt, P. T. F., & McBain, K. (2020). A literature review of studies into the prevalence and frequency of men’s pornography use. American Journal of Sexuality Education, 15(4), 502–529. https://doi.org/10.1080/15546128.2020.1831676 Paasonen, S. (2021). “We watch porn for the fucking, not for romantic tiptoeing”: Extremity, fantasy and women’s porn use. Porn Studies, 1–14. https://doi.org/10.1080/23268743.2021.1956366 Salmon, C., Fisher, M. L., & Burch, R. L. (2019). Evolutionary approaches: Integrating pornography preferences, short-term mating, and infidelity. Personality and Individual Differences, 148, 45–49. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.paid.2019.05.030 Seehuus, M., Stanton, A. M., & Handy, A. B. (2019). On the content of "real-world" sexual fantasy: Results from an analysis of 250,000+ anonymous text-based erotic fantasies. Archives of Sexual Behavior, 48(3), 725–737. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10508-018-1334-0 Shor, E. (2022). Who seeks aggression in pornography? Findings from interviews with viewers. Archives of Sexual Behavior, 51(2), 1237–1255. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10508-021-02053-1 Simon, W., & Gagnon, J. H. (2003). Sexual scripts: Origins, influences and changes. Qualitative Sociology, 26(4), 491–497. https://doi.org/10.1023/B:QUAS.0000005053.99846.e5 Stoller, R. J. (1985). Observing the erotic imagination. Yale University Press. Strizzi, J. M., Øverup, C. S., Ciprić, A., Hald, G. M., & Træen, B. (2022). BDSM: Does it hurt or help sexual satisfaction, relationship satisfaction, and relationship closeness? Journal of Sex Research, 59(2), 248–257. https://doi.org/10.1080/00224499.2021.1950116 Tillman, M., & Wells, B. E. (2022). An intersectional feminist analysis of women's experiences of authenticity in pornography. Journal of Sex Research, 1–17. https://doi.org/10.1080/00224499.2021.2024489 West, C. (2019). Pornography and ethics: An interview with porn performer Blath. Porn Studies, 6(2), 264–267. https://doi.org/10.1080/23268743.2018.1505540 Wiederman, M. W. (2015). Sexual Script Theory: Past, present, and future. In J. DeLamater & R. F. Plante (Eds.), Handbook of the sociology of sexualities (pp. 7–22). Springer. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-17341-2_2 Williams, L. (1989). Hard Core: Power, pleasure, and the frenzy of the visible. University of California Press. Wright, P. J. (2011). Mass media effects on youth sexual behavior assessing the claim for causality. Annals of the International Communication Association, 35(1), 343–385. https://doi.org/10.1080/23808985.2011.11679121

Kangatarianism is the rather inelegant word coined in the first decade of the twenty-first century to describe an omnivorous diet in which the only meat consumed is that of the kangaroo. First published in the media in 2010 (Barone; Zukerman), the term circulated in Australian environmental and academic circles including the Global Animal conference at the University of Wollongong in July 2011 where I first heard it from members of the Think Tank for Kangaroos (THINKK) group. By June 2017, it had gained enough attention to be named the Oxford English Dictionary’s Australian word of the month (following on from May’s “smashed avo,” another Australian food innovation), but it took the Nine Network reality television series Love Island Australia to raise kangatarian to trending status on social media (Oxford UP). During the first episode, aired in late May 2018, Justin, a concreter and fashion model from Melbourne, declared himself to have previously been a kangatarian as he chatted with fellow contestant, Millie. Vet nurse and animal lover Millie appeared to be shocked by his revelation but was tentatively accepting when Justin explained what kangatarian meant, and justified his choice on the grounds that kangaroo are not farmed. In the social media response, it was clear that eating only the meat of kangaroos as an ethical choice was an entirely new concept to many viewers, with one tweet stating “Kangatarian isn’t a thing”, while others variously labelled the diet brutal, intriguing, or quintessentially Australian (see #kangatarian on Twitter).There is a well developed literature around the arguments for and against eating kangaroo, and why settler Australians tend to be so reluctant to do so (see for example, Probyn; Cawthorn and Hoffman). Here, I will concentrate on the role that ethics play in this food choice by examining how the adoption of kangatarianism can be understood as a bargain struck to help to manage grief in the Anthropocene, and the limitations of that bargain. As Lesley Head has argued, we are living in a time of loss and of grieving, when much that has been taken for granted is becoming unstable, and “we must imagine that drastic changes to everyday life are in the offing” (313). Applying the classic (and contested) model of five stages of grief, first proposed by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross in her book On Death and Dying in 1969, much of the population of the western world seems to be now experiencing denial, her first stage of loss, while those in the most vulnerable environments have moved on to anger with developed countries for destructive actions in the past and inaction in the present. The next stages (or states) of grieving—bargaining, depression, and acceptance—are likely to be manifested, although not in any predictable sequence, as the grief over current and future losses continues (Haslam).The great expansion of food restrictive diets in the Anthropocene can be interpreted as part of this bargaining state of grieving as individuals attempt to respond to the imperative to reduce their environmental impact but also to limit the degree of change to their own diet required to do so. Meat has long been identified as a key component of an individual’s environmental footprint. From Frances Moore Lappé’s 1971 Diet for a Small Planet through the United Nations’ Food and Agriculture Organisation’s 2006 report Livestock’s Long Shadow to the 2019 report of the EAT–Lancet Commission on Healthy Diets from Sustainable Food Systems, the advice has been consistent: meat consumption should be minimised in, if not eradicated from, the human diet. The EAT–Lancet Commission Report quantified this to less than 28 grams (just under one ounce) of beef, lamb or pork per day (12, 25). For many this would be keenly felt, in terms of how meals are constructed, the sensory experiences associated with eating meat and perceptions of well-being but meat is offered up as a sacrifice to bring about the return of the beloved healthy planet.Rather than accept the advice to cut out meat entirely, those seeking to bargain with the Anthropocene also find other options. This has given rise to a suite of foodways based around restricting meat intake in volume or type. Reducing the amount of commercially produced beef, lamb and pork eaten is one approach, while substituting a meat the production of which has a smaller environmental footprint, most commonly chicken or fish, is another. For those willing to make deeper changes, the meat of free living animals, especially those which are killed accidentally on the roads or for deliberately for environmental management purposes, is another option. Further along this spectrum are the novel protein sources suggested in the Lancet report, including insects, blue-green algae and laboratory-cultured meats.Kangatarianism is another form of this bargain, and is backed by at least half a century of advocacy. The Australian Conservation Foundation made calls to reduce the numbers of other livestock and begin a sustainable harvest of kangaroo for food in 1970 when the sale of kangaroo meat for human consumption was still illegal across the country (Conservation of Kangaroos). The idea was repeated by biologist Gordon Grigg in the late 1980s (Jackson and Vernes 173), and again in the Garnaut Climate Change Review in 2008 (547–48). Kangaroo meat is high in protein and iron, low in fat, and high in healthy polyunsaturated fatty acids and conjugated linoleic acid, and, as these authors showed, has a smaller environmental footprint than beef, lamb, or pork. Kangaroo require less water than cattle, sheep or pigs, and no land is cleared to grow feed for them or give them space to graze. Their paws cause less erosion and compaction of soil than do the hooves of common livestock. They eat less fodder than ruminants and their digestive processes result in lower emissions of the powerful greenhouse gas methane and less solid waste.As Justin of Love Island was aware, kangaroo are not farmed in the sense of being deliberately bred, fed, confined, or treated with hormones, drugs or chemicals, which also adds to their lighter impact on the environment. However, some pastoralists argue that because they cannot prevent kangaroos from accessing the food, water, shelter, and protection from predators they provide for their livestock, they do effectively farm them, although they receive no income from sales of kangaroo meat. This type of light touch farming of kangaroos has a very long history in Australia going back to the continent’s first peopling some 60,000 years ago. Kangaroos were so important to Aboriginal people that a wide range of environments were manipulated to produce their favoured habitats of open grasslands edged by sheltering trees. As Bill Gammage demonstrated, fire was used as a tool to preserve and extend grassy areas, to encourage regrowth which would attract kangaroos and to drive the animals from one patch to another or towards hunters waiting with spears (passim, for example, 58, 72, 76, 93). Gammage and Bruce Pascoe agree that this was a form of animal husbandry in which the kangaroos were drawn to the areas prepared for them for the young grass or, more forcefully, physically directed using nets, brush fences or stone walls. Burnt ground served to contain the animals in place of fencing, and regular harvesting kept numbers from rising to levels which would place pressure on other species (Gammage 79, 281–86; Pascoe 42–43). Contemporary advocates of eating kangaroo have promoted the idea that they should be deliberately co-produced with other livestock instead of being killed to preserve feed and water for sheep and cattle (Ellicott; Wilson 39). Substituting kangaroo for the meat of more environmentally damaging animals would facilitate a reduction in the numbers of cattle and sheep, lessening the harm they do.Most proponents have assumed that their audience is current meat eaters who would substitute kangaroo for the meat of other more environmentally costly animals, but kangatarianism can also emerge from vegetarianism. Wendy Zukerman, who wrote about kangaroo hunting for New Scientist in 2010, was motivated to conduct the research because she was considering becoming an early adopter of kangatarianism as the least environmentally taxing way to counter the longterm anaemia she had developed as a vegetarian. In 2018, George Wilson, honorary professor in the Australian National University’s Fenner School of Environment and Society called for vegetarians to become kangatarians as a means of boosting overall consumption of kangaroo for environmental and economic benefits to rural Australia (39).Given these persuasive environmental arguments, it might be expected that many people would have perceived eating kangaroo instead of other meat as a favourable bargain and taken up the call to become kangatarian. Certainly, there has been widespread interest in trying kangaroo meat. In 1997, only five years after the sale of kangaroo meat for human consumption had been legalised in most states (South Australia did so in 1980), 51% of 500 people surveyed in five capital cities said they had tried kangaroo. However, it had not become a meat of choice with very few found to eat it more than three times a year (Des Purtell and Associates iv). Just over a decade later, a study by Ampt and Owen found an increase to 58% of 1599 Australians surveyed across the country who had tried kangaroo but just 4.7% eating it at least monthly (14). Bryce Appleby, in his study of kangaroo consumption in the home based on interviews with 28 residents of Wollongong in 2010, specifically noted the absence of kangatarians—then a very new concept. A study of 261 Sydney university students in 2014 found that half had tried kangaroo meat and 10% continued to eat it with any regularity. Only two respondents identified themselves as kangatarian (Grant 14–15). Kangaroo meat advocate Michael Archer declared in 2017 that “there’s an awful lot of very, very smart vegetarians [who] have opted for semi vegetarianism and they’re calling themselves ‘kangatarians’, as they’re quite happy to eat kangaroo meat”, but unless there had been a significant change in a few years, the surveys did not bear out his assertion (154).The ethical calculations around eating kangaroo are complicated by factors beyond the strictly environmental. One Tweeter advised Justin: “‘I’m a kangatarian’ isn’t a pickup line, mate”, and certainly the reception of his declaration could have been very cool, especially as it was delivered to a self declared animal warrior (N’Tash Aha). All of the studies of beliefs and practices around the eating of kangaroo have noted a significant minority of Australians who would not consider eating kangaroo based on issues of animal welfare and animal rights. The 1997 study found that 11% were opposed to the idea of eating kangaroo, while in Grant’s 2014 study, 15% were ethically opposed to eating kangaroo meat (Des Purtell and Associates iv; Grant 14–15). Animal ethics complicate the bargains calculated principally on environmental grounds.These ethical concerns work across several registers. One is around the flesh and blood kangaroo as a charismatic native animal unique to Australia and which Australians have an obligation to respect and nurture. Sheep, cattle and pigs have been subject to longterm propaganda campaigns which entrench the idea that they are unattractive and unintelligent, and veil their transition to meat behind euphemistic language and abattoir walls, making it easier to eat them. Kangaroos are still seen as resourceful and graceful animals, and no linguistic tricks shield consumers from the knowledge that it is a roo on their plate. A proposal in 2009 to market a “coat of arms” emu and kangaroo-flavoured potato chip brought complaints to the Advertising Standards Bureau that this was disrespectful to these native animals, although the flavours were to be simulated and the product vegetarian (Black). Coexisting with this high regard to kangaroos is its antithesis. That is, a valuation of them informed by their designation as a pest in the pastoral industry, and the use of the carcasses of those killed to feed dogs and other companion animals. Appleby identified a visceral, disgust response to the idea of eating kangaroo in many of his informants, including both vegetarians who would not consider eating kangaroo because of their commitment to a plant-based diet, and at least one omnivore who would prefer to give up all meat rather than eat kangaroo. While diametrically opposed, the end point of both positions is that kangaroo meat should not be eaten.A second animal ethics stance relates to the imagined kangaroo, a cultural construct which for most urban Australians is much more present in their lives and likely to shape their actions than the living animals. It is behind the rejection of eating an animal which holds such an iconic place in Australian culture: to the dexter on the 1912 national coat of arms; hopping through the Hundred Acre Wood as Kanga and Roo in A.A. Milne’s Winnie-the-Pooh children’s books from the 1920s and the Disney movies later made from them; as a boy’s best friend as Skippy the Bush Kangaroo in a fondly remembered 1970s television series; and high in the sky on QANTAS planes. The anthropomorphising of kangaroos permitted the spectacle of the boxing kangaroo from the late nineteenth century. By framing natural kangaroo behaviours as boxing, these exhibitions encouraged an ambiguous understanding of kangaroos as human-like, moving them further from the category of food (Golder and Kirkby). Australian government bodies used this idea of the kangaroo to support food exports to Britain, with kangaroos as cooks or diners rather than ingredients. The Kangaroo Kookery Book of 1932 (see fig. 1 below) portrayed kangaroos as a nuclear family in a suburban kitchen and another official campaign supporting sales of Australian produce in Britain in the 1950s featured a Disney-inspired kangaroo eating apples and chops washed down with wine (“Kangaroo to Be ‘Food Salesman’”). This imagining of kangaroos as human-like has persisted, leading to the opinion expressed in a 2008 focus group, that consuming kangaroo amounted to “‘eating an icon’ … Although they are pests they are still human nature … these are native animals, people and I believe that is a form of cannibalism!” (Ampt and Owen 26). Figure 1: Rather than promoting the eating of kangaroos, the portrayal of kangaroos as a modern suburban family in the Kangaroo Kookery Book (1932) made it unthinkable. (Source: Kangaroo Kookery Book, Director of Australian Trade Publicity, Australia House, London, 1932.)The third layer of ethical objection on the ground of animal welfare is more specific, being directed to the method of killing the kangaroos which become food. Kangaroos are perhaps the only native animals for which state governments set quotas for commercial harvest, on the grounds that they compete with livestock for pasturage and water. In most jurisdictions, commercially harvested kangaroo carcasses can be processed for human consumption, and they are the ones which ultimately appear in supermarket display cases.Kangaroos are killed by professional shooters at night using swivelling spotlights mounted on their vehicles to locate and daze the animals. While clean head shots are the ideal and regulations state that animals should be killed when at rest and without causing “undue agonal struggle”, this is not always achieved and some animals do suffer prolonged deaths (NSW Code of Practice for Kangaroo Meat for Human Consumption). By regulation, the young of any female kangaroo must be killed along with her. While averting a slow death by neglect, this is considered cruel and wasteful. The hunt has drawn international criticism, including from Greenpeace which organised campaigns against the sale of kangaroo meat in Europe in the 1980s, and Viva! which was successful in securing the withdrawal of kangaroo from sale in British supermarkets (“Kangaroo Meat Sales Criticised”). These arguments circulate and influence opinion within Australia.A final animal ethics issue is that what is actually behind the push for greater use of kangaroo meat is not concern for the environment or animal welfare but the quest to turn a profit from these animals. The Kangaroo Industries Association of Australia, formed in 1970 to represent those who dealt in the marsupials’ meat, fur and skins, has been a vocal advocate of eating kangaroo and a sponsor of market research into how it can be made more appealing to the market. The Association argued in 1971 that commercial harvest was part of the intelligent conservation of the kangaroo. They sought minimum size regulations to prevent overharvesting and protect their livelihoods (“Assn. Backs Kangaroo Conservation”). The Association’s current website makes the claim that wild harvested “Australian kangaroo meat is among the healthiest, tastiest and most sustainable red meats in the world” (Kangaroo Industries Association of Australia). That this is intended to initiate a new and less controlled branch of the meat industry for the benefit of hunters and processors, rather than foster a shift from sheep or cattle to kangaroos which might serve farmers and the environment, is the opinion of Dr. Louise Boronyak, of the Centre for Compassionate Conservation at the University of Technology Sydney (Boyle 19).Concerns such as these have meant that kangaroo is most consumed where it is least familiar, with most of the meat for human consumption recovered from culled animals being exported to Europe and Asia. Russia has been the largest export market. There, kangaroo meat is made less strange by blending it with other meats and traditional spices to make processed meats, avoiding objections to its appearance and uncertainty around preparation. With only a low profile as a novelty animal in Russia, there are fewer sentimental concerns about consuming kangaroo, although the additional food miles undermine its environmental credentials. The variable acceptability of kangaroo in more distant markets speaks to the role of culture in determining how patterns of eating are formed and can be shifted, or, as Elspeth Probyn phrased it “how natural entities are transformed into commodities within a context of globalisation and local communities”, underlining the impossibility of any straightforward ethics of eating kangaroo (33, 35).Kangatarianism is a neologism which makes the eating of kangaroo meat something it has not been in the past, a voluntary restriction based on environmental ethics. These environmental benefits are well founded and eating kangaroo can be understood as an Anthropocenic bargain struck to allow the continuation of the consumption of red meat while reducing one’s environmental footprint. Although superficially attractive, the numbers entering into this bargain remain small because environmental ethics cannot be disentangled from animal ethics. The anthropomorphising of the kangaroo and its use as a national symbol coexist with its categorisation as a pest and use of its meat as food for companion animals. Both understandings of kangaroos made their meat uneatable for many Australians. Paired with concerns over how kangaroos are killed and the commercialisation of a native species, kangaroo meat has a very mixed reception despite decades of advocacy for eating its meat in favour of that of more harmed and more harmful introduced species. Given these constraints, kangatarianism is unlikely to become widespread and indeed it should be viewed as at best a temporary exigency. As the climate warms and rainfall becomes more erratic, even animals which have evolved to suit Australian conditions will come under increasing pressure, and humans will need to reach Kübler-Ross’ final state of grief: acceptance. In this case, this would mean acceptance that our needs cannot be placed ahead of those of other animals.ReferencesAmpt, Peter, and Kate Owen. Consumer Attitudes to Kangaroo Meat Products. Canberra: Rural Industries Research and Development Corporation, 2008.Appleby, Bryce. “Skippy the ‘Green’ Kangaroo: Identifying Resistances to Eating Kangaroo in the Home in a Context of Climate Change.” BSc Hons, U of Wollongong, 2010 <http://ro.uow.edu.au/thsci/103>.Archer, Michael. “Zoology on the Table: Plenary Session 4.” Australian Zoologist 39, 1 (2017): 154–60.“Assn. Backs Kangaroo Conservation.” The Beverley Times 26 Feb. 1971: 3. 22 Feb. 2019 <http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article202738733>.Barone, Tayissa. “Kangatarians Jump the Divide.” Sydney Morning Herald 9 Feb. 2010. 13 Apr. 2019 <https://www.smh.com.au/lifestyle/kangatarians-jump-the-divide-20100209-gdtvd8.html>.Black, Rosemary. “Some Australians Angry over Idea for Kangaroo and Emu-Flavored Potato Chips.” New York Daily News 4 Dec. 2009. 5 Feb. 2019 <https://www.nydailynews.com/life-style/eats/australians-angry-idea-kangaroo-emu-flavored-potato-chips-article-1.431865>.Boyle, Rhianna. “Eating Skippy.” Big Issue Australia 578 11-24 Jan. 2019: 16–19.Cawthorn, Donna-Mareè, and Louwrens C. Hoffman. “Controversial Cuisine: A Global Account of the Demand, Supply and Acceptance of ‘Unconventional’ and ‘Exotic’ Meats.” Meat Science 120 (2016): 26–7.Conservation of Kangaroos. Melbourne: Australian Conservation Foundation, 1970.Des Purtell and Associates. Improving Consumer Perceptions of Kangaroo Products: A Survey and Report. Canberra: Rural Industries Research and Development Corporation, 1997.Ellicott, John. “Little Pay Incentive for Shooters to Join Kangaroo Meat Industry.” The Land 15 Mar. 2018. 28 Mar. 2019 <https://www.theland.com.au/story/5285265/top-roo-shooter-says-harvesting-is-a-low-paid-job/>.Garnaut, Ross. Garnaut Climate Change Review. 2008. 26 Feb. 2019 <http://www.garnautreview.org.au/index.htm>.Gammage, Bill. The Biggest Estate on Earth: How Aborigines Made Australia. Sydney: Allen and Unwin, 2012.Golder, Hilary, and Diane Kirkby. “Mrs. Mayne and Her Boxing Kangaroo: A Married Woman Tests Her Property Rights in Colonial New South Wales.” Law and History Review 21.3 (2003): 585–605.Grant, Elisabeth. “Sustainable Kangaroo Harvesting: Perceptions and Consumption of Kangaroo Meat among University Students in New South Wales.” Independent Study Project (ISP). U of NSW, 2014. <https://digitalcollections.sit.edu/isp_collection/1755>.Haslam, Nick. “The Five Stages of Grief Don’t Come in Fixed Steps – Everyone Feels Differently.” The Conversation 22 Oct. 2018. 28 Mar. 2019 <https://theconversation.com/the-five-stages-of-grief-dont-come-in-fixed-steps-everyone-feels-differently-96111>.Head, Lesley. “The Anthropoceans.” Geographical Research 53.3 (2015): 313–20.Kangaroo Industries Association of Australia. Kangaroo Meat. 26 Feb. 2019 <http://www.kangarooindustry.com/products/meat/>.“Kangaroo Meat Sales Criticised.” The Canberra Times 13 Sep. 1984: 14. 22 Feb 2019 <http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article136915919>.“Kangaroo to Be Food ‘Salesman.’” Newcastle Morning Herald and Miners’ Advocate, 2 Dec. 1954. 22 Feb 2019 <http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article134089767>.Kübler-Ross, Elisabeth. On Death and Dying: What the Dying Have to Teach Doctors, Nurses, Clergy, and their own Families. New York: Touchstone, 1997.Jackson, Stephen, and Karl Vernes. Kangaroo: Portrait of an Extraordinary Marsupial. Sydney: Allen and Unwin, 2010.Lappé, Frances Moore. Diet for a Small Planet. New York: Ballantine Books, 1971.N’Tash Aha (@Nsvasey). “‘I’m a Kangatarian’ isn’t a Pickup Line, Mate. #LoveIslandAU.” Twitter post. 27 May 2018. 5 Apr. 2019 <https://twitter.com/Nsvasey/status/1000697124122644480>.“NSW Code of Practice for Kangaroo Meat for Human Consumption.” Government Gazette of the State of New South Wales 24 Mar. 1993. 22 Feb. 2019 <http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-page14638033>.Oxford University Press, Australia and New Zealand. Word of the Month. June 2017. <https://www.oup.com.au/dictionaries/word-of-the-month>.Pascoe, Bruce. Dark Emu, Black Seeds: Agriculture or Accident? Broome: Magabala Books, 2014.Probyn, Elspeth. “Eating Roo: Of Things That Become Food.” New Formations 74.1 (2011): 33–45.Steinfeld, Henning, Pierre Gerber, Tom Wassenaar, Vicent Castel, Mauricio Rosales, and Cees d Haan. Livestock’s Long Shadow: Environmental Issues and Options. Rome: Food and Agriculture Organisation of the United Nations, 2006.Trust Nature. Essence of Kangaroo Capsules. 26 Feb. 2019 <http://ncpro.com.au/products/all-products/item/88139-essence-of-kangaroo-35000>.Victoria Department of Environment, Land, Water and Planning. Kangaroo Pet Food Trial. 28 Mar. 2019 <https://www.wildlife.vic.gov.au/managing-wildlife/wildlife-management-and-control-authorisations/kangaroo-pet-food-trial>.Willett, Walter, et al. “Food in the Anthropocene: The EAT–Lancet Commission on Healthy Diets from Sustainable Food Systems.” The Lancet 16 Jan. 2019. 26 Feb. 2019 <https://www.thelancet.com/commissions/EAT>.Wilson, George. “Kangaroos Can Be an Asset Rather than a Pest.” Australasian Science 39.1 (2018): 39.Zukerman, Wendy. “Eating Skippy: The Future of Kangaroo Meat.” New Scientist 208.2781 (2010): 42–5.

IntroductionIn late 2016, I undertook a short-term, three-month project to share some of my research through my Instagram account using the categorising hashtag #AustralianBeachspace. Much of this work emerged from my PhD thesis, which is being published in journal articles, but has yet to be published in any accessible or overarching way. I wanted to experiment with the process of using a visual social media tool for research dissemination. I felt that Instagram’s ability to combine text and image allowed for an aesthetically interesting way to curate this particular research project. My research is concerned with representations of the Australian beach, and thus the visual, image-based focus of Instagram seemed ideal. In this article, I briefly examine some of the existing research around academic practices of research dissemination, social media use, and the emerging research around Instagram itself. I then will examine my own experience of using Instagram as a tool for depicting curated, aesthetically-driven, research dissemination and reflect whether this use of Instagram is effective for representing and disseminating research. Research DisseminationResearchers, especially those backed by public funding, are always bound by the necessity of sharing the findings and transferring the knowledge gained during the research process. Research metrics are linked to workload allocations and promotion pathways for university researchers, providing clear motivation to maintain an active research presence. For most academics, the traditional research dissemination strategies involve academic publications: peer-reviewed scholarly books and journal articles.For academics working within a higher education policy climate that centres on measuring impact and engagement, peer-reviewed publications remain the gold standard. There are indicators, however, that research dissemination strategies may need to include methods for targeting non-academic outputs. Gunn and Mintrom (21), in their recent research, “anticipate that governments will increasingly question the value of publicly funded research and seek to evaluate research impact”. And this process, they argue, is not without challenges. Education Minister Simon Birmingham supports their claim by suggesting the Turnbull Government is looking to find methods for more meaningful ways of evaluating value in higher education research outcomes, “rather than only allocating funding to researchers who spend their time trying to get published in journals” (para 5).It therefore makes sense that academics are investigating ways of using social media as a way of broadening their research dissemination, despite the fact social media metrics do not yet count towards traditional citations within the university sector.Research Dissemination via Social MediaThere has been an established practice of researchers using social media, especially blogging (Kirkup) and Twitter, as ways of sharing information about their current projects, their findings, their most recent publications, or to connect with colleagues. Gruzd, Staves, and Wilk (2348) investigated social media use by academics, suggesting “scholars are turning to social media tools professionally because they are more convenient for making new connections with peers, collaboration, and research dissemination”. It is possible to see social media functioning as a new way of representing research – playing an important role in the shaping and developing of ideas, sharing those ideas, and functioning as a dissemination tool after the research has concluded.To provide context for the use of social media in research, this section briefly covers blogging and Twitter, two methods considered somewhat separated from university frameworks, and also professional platforms, such as Academia.edu and The Conversation.Perhaps the tool that has the most history in providing another avenue for academics to share their work is academic blogging. Blogging is considered an avenue that allows for discussion of topics prior to publication (Bukvova, 4; Powell, Jacob, and Chapman, 273), and often uses a more conversational tone than academic publishing. It provides opportunity to share research in long form to an open, online audience. Academic blogs have also become significant parts of online academic communities, such as the highly successful blog, The Thesis Whisperer, targeted for research students. However, many researchers in this space note the stigma attached to blogging (and other forms of social media) as useless or trivial; for instance, in Gruzd, Staves, and Wilk’s survey of academic users of social media, an overwhelming majority of respondents suggested that institutions do not recognise these activities (2343). Because blogging is not counted in publication metrics, it is possible to dismiss this type of activity as unnecessary.Twitter has garnered attention within the academic context because of its proliferation in conference engagement and linking citation practices of scholars (Marht, Weller, and Peters, 401–406). Twitter’s platform lends itself as a place to share citations of recently published material and a way of connecting with academic peers in an informal, yet meaningful way. Veletsianos has undertaken an analysis of academic Twitter practices, and there is a rise in popularity of “Tweetable Abstracts” (Else), or the practice of refining academic abstracts into a shareable Tweet format. According to Powell, Jacob, and Chapman (272), new media (including both Twitter and the academic blog) offer opportunities to engage with an increasingly Internet-literate society in a way that is perhaps more meaningful and certainly more accessible than traditional academic journals. Like blogging, the use of Twitter within the active research phase and pre-publication, means the platform can both represent and disseminate new ideas and research findings.Both academic blogs and Twitter are widely accessible and can be read by Internet users beyond academia. It appears likely, however, that many blogs and academic Twitter profiles are still accessed and consumed primarily by academic audiences. This is more obvious in the increasingly popular specific academic social media platforms such as ResearchGate or Academia.edu.These websites are providing more targeted, niche communication and sharing channels for scholars working in higher education globally, and their use appears to be regularly encouraged by institutions. These sites attempt to mediate between open access and copyright in academic publishing, encouraging users to upload full-text documents of their publications as a means of generating more attention and citations (Academia.edu cites Niyazov et al’s study that suggests articles posted to the site had improved citation counts). ResearchGate and Academia.edu function primarily as article repositories, albeit with added social networking opportunities that differentiate them from more traditional university repositories.In comparison, the success of the online platform The Conversation, with its tagline “Academic rigour, journalistic flair”, shows the growing enthusiasm and importance of engaging with more public facing outlets to share forms of academic writing. Many researchers are using The Conversation as a way of sharing their research findings through more accessible, shorter articles designed for the general public; these articles regularly link to the traditional academic publications as well.Research dissemination, and how the uptake of online social networks is changing individual and institution-wide practices, is a continually expanding area of research. It is apparent that while The Conversation has been widely accepted and utilised as a tool of research dissemination, there is still some uncertainty about using social media as representing or disseminating findings and ideas because of the lack of impact metrics. This is perhaps even more notable in regards to Instagram, a platform that has received comparatively little discussion in academic research more broadly.Instagram as Social MediaInstagram is a photo sharing application that launched in 2010 and has seen significant uptake by users in that time, reaching 700 million monthly active users as of April 2017 (Instagram “700 Million”). Recent additions to the service, such as the “Snapchat clone” Instagram Stories, appear to have helped boost growth (Constine, para 4). Instagram then is a major player in the social media user market, and the emergence of academic research into the platform reflect this. Early investigations include Manikonda, Hu and Kambhampati’s analysis social networks, demographics, and activities of users in which they identified some clear differences in usage compared to Flickr (another photo-sharing network) and Twitter (5). Hochman and Manovich and Hochman and Schwartz examined what information visualisations generated from Instagram images can reveal about the “visual rhythms” of geographical locations such as New York City.To provide context for the use of Instagram as a way of disseminating research through a more curated, visual approach, this section will examine professional uses of Instagram, the role of Influencers, and some of the functionalities of the platform.Instagram is now a platform that caters for both personal and professional accounts. The user-interface allows for a streamlined and easily navigable process from taking a photo, adding filters or effects, and sharing the photo instantly. The platform has developed to include web-based access to complement the mobile application, and has also introduced Instagram Business accounts, which provide “real-time metrics”, “insights into your followers”, and the ability to “add information about your company” (Instagram “Instagram Business”). This also comes with the option to pay for advertisements.Despite its name, many users of Instagram, especially those with profiles that are professional or business orientated, do not only produce instant content. While the features of Instagram, such as geotagging, timestamping, and the ability to use the camera from within the app, lend themselves to users capturing their everyday experience in the moment, more and more content is becoming carefully curated. As such, some accounts are blurring the line between personal and professional, becoming what Crystal Abidin calls Influencers, identifying the practice as when microcelebrities are able to use the “textual and visual narration of their personal, everyday lives” to generate paid advertorials (86). One effect of this, as Abidin investigates in the context of Singapore and the #OOTD (Outfit of the Day) hashtag, is the way “everyday Instagram users are beginning to model themselves after Influences” and therefore generate advertising content “that is not only encouraged by Influences and brands but also publicly utilised without remuneration” (87). Instagram, then, can be a very powerful platform for businesses to reach wide audiences, and the flexibility of caption length and visual content provides a type of viral curation practice as in the case of the #OOTD hashtag following.Considering the focus of my #AustralianBeachspace project on Australian beaches, many of the Instagram accounts and hashtags I encountered and engaged with were tourism related. Although this will be discussed in more detail below, it is worth noting that individual Influencers exist in these fields as well and often provide advertorial content for companies like accommodation chains or related products. One example is user @katgaskin, an Influencer who both takes photos, features in photos, and provides “organic” adverts for products and services (see image). Not all her photos are adverts; some are beach or ocean images without any advertorial content in the caption. In this instance, the use of distinctive photo editing, iconic imagery (the “salty pineapple” branding), and thematic content of beach and ocean landscapes, makes for a recognisable and curated aesthetic. Figure 1: An example from user @katgaskin's Instagram profile that includes a mention of a product. Image sourced from @katgaskin, uploaded 2 June 2017.@katgaskin’s profile’s aesthetic identity is, as such, linked with the ocean and the beach. Although her physical location regularly changes (her profile includes images from, for example, Nicaragua, Australia, and the United States), the thematic link is geographical. And research suggests the visual focus of Instagram lends itself to place-based content. As Hochman and Manovich state:While Instagram eliminates static timestamps, its interface strongly emphasizes physical place and users’ locations. The application gives a user the option to publicly share a photo’s location in two ways. Users can tag a photo to a specific venue, and then view all other photos that were taken and tagged there. If users do not choose to tag a photo to a venue, they can publically share their photos’ location information on a personal ‘photo-map’, displaying all photos on a zoomable word map. (para 14)This means that the use of place in the app is anchored to the visual content, not the uploader’s location. While it is possible to consider Instagram’s intention was to anchor the content and the uploader’s location together (as in the study conducted by Weilenmann, Hillman, and Jungselius that explored how Instagram was used in the museum), this is no longer always the case. In this way, Instagram is also providing a platform for more serious photographers to share their images after they have processed and edited them and connect the image with the image content rather than the uploader’s position.This place-based focus also shares origins in tourism photography practices. For instance, Kibby’s analysis of the use of Instagram as a method for capturing the “tourist gaze” in Monument Valley notes that users mostly wanted to capture the “iconic” elements of the site (most of which were landscape formations made notable through representations in popular culture).Another area of research into Instagram use is hashtag practice (see, for example, Ferrara, Interdonato, and Tagarelli). Highfield and Leaver have generated a methodology for mapping hashtags and analysing the information this can reveal about user practices. Many Instagram accounts use hashtags to provide temporal or place based information, some specific (such as #sunrise or #newyorkcity) and some more generic (such as #weekend or #beach). Of particular relevance here is the role hashtags play in generating higher levels of user engagement. It is also worth noting the role of “algorithmic personalization” introduced by Instagram earlier in 2017 and the lukewarm user response as identified by Mahnke Skrubbeltrang, Grunnet, and Tarp’s analysis, suggesting “users are concerned with algorithms dominating their experience, resulting in highly commercialised experience” (section 7).Another key aspect of Instagram’s functionality is linked to the aesthetic of the visual content: photographic filters. Now a mainstay of other platforms such as Facebook and Twitter, Instagram popularised the use of filters by providing easily accessible options within the app interface directly. Now, other apps such as VCSO allow for more detailed editing of images that can then be imported into Instagram; however, the pre-set filters have proven popular with large numbers of users. A study in 2014 by Araújo, Corrêa, da Silva et al found 76% of analysed images had been processed in some way.By considering the professional uses of Instagram and the functionality of the app (geotagging; hashtagging; and filters), it is possible to summarise Instagram as a social media platform that, although initially perhaps intended to capture the everyday visual experiences of amateur photographers using their smart phone, has adapted to become a network for sharing images that can be for both personal and professional purposes. It has a focus on place, with its geotagging capacity and hashtag practices, and can include captions The #AustralianBeachspace ProjectIn October 2016, I began a social media project called #AustralianBeachspace that was designed to showcase content from my PhD thesis and ongoing work into representations of Australian beaches in popular culture (a collection of the project posts only, as opposed to the ongoing Instagram profile, can be found here). The project was envisaged as a three month project; single posts (including an image and caption) were planned and uploaded six times a week (every day except Sundays). Although I have occasionally continued to use the hashtag since the project’s completion (on 24 Dec. 2016), the frequency and planned nature of the posts since then has significantly changed. What has not changed is the strong thematic through line of my posts, all of which continue to rely heavily on beach imagery. This is distinct from other academic social media use which if often more focused on the everyday activity of academia.Instagram was my social media choice for this project for two main reasons: I had no existing professional Instagram profile (unlike Twitter) and thus I could curate a complete project in isolation, and the subject of my PhD thesis was representations of Australian beaches in literature and film. As such, my research was appropriate for, and in fact was augmented by, visual depiction. It is also worth noting the tendency reported by myself and others (Huntsman; Booth) of academics not considering the beach an area worthy of focus. This resonates with Bech Albrechtslund and Albrechtslund’s argument that “social media practices associated with leisure and playfulness” are still meaningful and worthy of examination.Up until this point, my research outputs had been purely textual. I, therefore, needed to generate a significant number of visual elements to complement the vast amount of textual content already created. I used my PhD thesis to provide the thematic structure (I have detailed this process in more depth here), and then used the online tool Trello to plan, organise, and arrange the intended posts (image and caption). The project includes images taken by myself, my partner, and other images with no copyright limitations attached as sourced through photo sharing sites like Unsplash.com.The images were all selected because of their visual representation of an Australian beach, and the alignment of the image with the themes of the project. For instance, one theme focused on the under-represented negative aspects of the beach. One image used in this theme was a photo of Bondi Beach ocean pool, empty at night. I carefully curated the images and arranged them according to the thematic schedule (as can be seen below) and then wrote the accompanying textual captions. Figure 2: A sample of the schedule used for the posting of curated images and captions.While there were some changes to the schedule throughout (for instance, my attendance at the 2016 Sculpture by the Sea exhibition prompted me to create a sixth theme), the process of content curation and creation remained the same.Visual curation of the images was a particularly important aspect of the project, and I did use an external photo processing application to create an aesthetic across the collection. As Kibby notes, “photography is intrinsically linked with tourism” (para 9), and although not a tourism project inherently, #AustralianBeachspace certainly engaged with touristic tropes by focusing on Australian beaches, an iconic part of Australian national and cultural identity (Ellison 2017; Ellison and Hawkes 2016; Fiske, Hodge, and Turner 1987). However, while beaches are perhaps instinctively touristic in their focus on natural landscapes, this project was attempting to illustrate more complexity in this space (which mirrors an intention of my PhD thesis). As such, some images were chosen because of their “ordinariness” or their subversion of the iconic beach images (see below). Figures 3 and 4: Two images that capture some less iconic images of Australian beaches; one that shows an authentic, ordinary summer's day and another that shows an empty beach during winter.I relied on captions to provide the textual information about the image. I also included details about the photographer where possible, and linked all the images with the hashtag #AustralianBeachspace. The textual content, much of which emerged from ongoing and extensive research into the topic, was somewhat easier to collate. However, it required careful reworking and editing to suit the desired audience and to work in conjunction with the image. I kept captions to the approximate length of a paragraph and concerned with one point. This process forced me to distil ideas and concepts into short chunks of writing, which is distinct from other forms of academic output. This textual content was designed to be accessible beyond an academic audience, but still used a relatively formal voice (especially in comparison to more personal users of the platform).I provided additional hashtags in a first comment, which were intended to generate some engagement. Notably, these hashtags were content related (such as #beach and #surf; they were not targeting academic hashtags). At time of writing, my follower count is 70. The most liked (or “favourited”) photo from the project received 50 likes, and the most comments received was 6 (on a number of posts). Some photos published since the end of the project have received higher numbers of likes and comments. This certainly does not suggest enormous impact from this project. Hashtags utilised in this project were adopted from popular and related hashtags using the analytics tool Websta.me as well as hashtags used in similar content styled profiles, such as: #seeaustralia #thisisqueensland #visitNSW #bondibeach #sunshinecoast and so on. Notably, many of the hashtags were place-based. The engagement of this project with users beyond academia was apparent: followers and comments on the posts are more regularly from professional photographers, tourism bodies, or location-based businesses. In fact, because of the content or place-based hashtagging practices I employed, it was difficult to attract an academic audience at all. However, although the project was intended as an experiment with public facing research dissemination, I did not actively adopt a stringent engagement strategy and have not kept metrics per day to track engagement. This is a limitation of the study and undoubtedly allows scope for further research.ConclusionInstagram is a platform that does not have clear pathways for reaching academic audiences in targeted ways. At this stage, little research has emerged that investigates Instagram use among academics, although it is possible to presume there are similarities with blogging or Twitter (for example, conference posting and making connections with colleagues).However, the functionality of Instagram does lend itself to creating and curating aesthetically interesting ways of disseminating, and in fact representing, research. Ideas and findings must be depicted as images and captions, and the curatorial process of marrying visual images to complement or support textual information can make for more accessible and palatable content. Perhaps most importantly, the content is freely accessible and not locked behind paywalls or expensive academic publications. It can also be easily archived and shared.The #AustralianBeachspace project is small-scale and not indicative of widespread academic practice. However, examining the process of creating the project and the role Instagram may play in potentially reaching a more diverse, public audience for academic research suggests scope for further investigation. Although not playing an integral role in publication metrics and traditional measures of research impact, the current changing climate of higher education policy provides motivations to continue exploring non-traditional methods for disseminating research findings and tracking research engagement and impact.Instagram functions as a useful platform for sharing research data through a curated collection of images and captions. Rather than being a space for instant updates on the everyday life of the academic, it can also function in a more aesthetically interesting and dynamic way to share research findings and possibly generate wider, public-facing engagement for topics less likely to emerge from behind the confines of academic journal publications. ReferencesAbidin, Crystal. “Visibility Labour: Engaging with Influencers’ Fashion Brands and #Ootd Advertorial Campaigns on Instagram.” Media International Australia 161.1 (2016): 86–100. <http://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/1329878X16665177>.Araújo, Camila Souza, Luiz Paulo Damilton Corrêa, Ana Paula Couto da Silva, et al. “It is Not Just a Picture: Revealing Some User Practices in Instagram.” Proceedings of the 9th Latin American Web Congress, Ouro Preto, Brazil, 22–24 October, 2014. <http://ieeexplore.ieee.org/stamp/stamp.jsp?arnumber=7000167>Bech Albrechtslund, Anne-Metter, and Anders Albrechtslund. “Social Media as Leisure Culture.” First Monday 19.4 (2014). <http://firstmonday.org/ojs/index.php/fm/article/view/4877/3867>.Birmingham, Simon. “2017 Pilot to Test Impact, Business Engagement of Researchers.” Media Release. Australian Government: Australian Research Council. 21 Nov. 2016. <http://www.arc.gov.au/news-media/media-releases/2017-pilot-test-impact-business-engagement-researchers>.Booth, Douglas. Australian Beach Cultures: The History of Sun, Sand, and Surf. London, United Kingdom: F. Cass, 2001.Bukvova, Helena. “Taking New Routes: Blogs, Web Sites, and Scientific Publishing.” ScieCom Info 7.2 (2011). 20 May 2017 <http://journals.lub.lu.se/index.php/sciecominfo/article/view/5148>.Constine, Josh. “Instagram’s Growth Speeds Up as It Hits 700 Million Users.” Techcrunch, 26 Apr. 2017. 1 June 2017 <https://techcrunch.com/2017/04/26/instagram-700-million-users/>.drlizellison. “Dr Liz Ellison.” Instagram.com, 2017. 8 June 2017 <http://www.instagram.com/drlizellison>.Ellison, Elizabeth. “The Australian Beachspace: Flagging the Spaces of Australian Beach Texts.” PhD thesis. Brisbane: Queensland U of Technology, 2013. <https://eprints.qut.edu.au/63468/>.Ellison, Elizabeth. “The Gritty Urban: The Australian Beach as City Periphery in Cinema.” Filmburia: Screening the Suburbs. Eds. David Forrest, Graeme Harper and Jonathan Rayner. UK: Palgrave Macmillan, 2017. 79–94.Ellison, Elizabeth, and Lesley Hawkes. “Australian Beachspace: The Plurality of an Iconic Site”. Borderlands e-Journal: New Spaces in the Humanities 15.1 (2016). 4 June 2017 <http://www.borderlands.net.au/vol15no1_2016/ellisonhawkes_beachspace.pdf>.Else, Holly. “Tell Us about Your Paper—and Make It Short and Tweet.” Times Higher Education, 9 July 2015. 1 June 2017 <https://www.timeshighereducation.com/opinion/tell-us-about-your-paper-and-make-it-short-and-tweet>.Ferrara, Emilio, Roberto Interdonato, and Andrea Tagarelli. “Online Popularity and Topical Interests through the Lens of Instagram.” Proceedings of the 25th ACM Conference on Hypertext and Social Media, Santiago, Chile, 1–4 Sep. 2014. <http://dx.doi.org/10.1145/2631775.2631808>.Gruzd, Anatoliy, Kathleen Staves, and Amanda Wilk. “Connected Scholars: Examining the Role of Social Media in Research Practices of Faculty Using the Utaut Model.” Computers in Human Behavior 28.6 (2012): 2340–50.Gunn, Andrew, and Michael Mintrom. “Evaluating the Non-Academic Impact of Academic Research: Design Considerations.” Journal of Higher Education Policy and Management 39.1 (2017): 20–30. <http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/1360080X.2016.1254429>.Highfield, Tim, and Tama Leaver. “A Methodology for Mapping Instagram Hashtags”. First Monday 20.1 (2015). 18 Oct. 2016 <http://firstmonday.org/ojs/index.php/fm/article/view/5563/4195>.Hochman, Nadav, and Lev Manovich. “Zooming into an Instagram City: Reading the Local through Social Media.” First Monday 18.7 (2013). <http://firstmonday.org/ojs/index.php/fm/article/view/4711/3698>.Hochman, Nadav, and Raz Schwartz. “Visualizing Instagram: Tracing Cultural Visual Rhythms.” Proceedings of the Workshop on Social Media Visualization (SocMedVis) in Conjunction with the Sixth International AAAI Conference on Weblogs and Social Media (ICWSM–12), 2012. 6–9. 2 June 2017 <http://razschwartz.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/Instagram_ICWSM12.pdf>.Huntsman, Leone. Sand in Our Souls: The Beach in Australian History. Carlton South, Victoria: Melbourne U Press, 2001.Instagram. “700 Million.” Instagram Blog, 26 Apr. 2017. 6 June 2017 <http://blog.instagram.com/post/160011713372/170426-700million>.Instagram. “Instagram Business.” 6 June 2017. <https://business.instagram.com/>.katgaskin. “Salty Pineapple”. Instagram.com, 2017. 2 June 2017 <https://www.instagram.com/katgaskin/>.katgaskin. “Salty Hair with a Pineapple Towel…” Instagram.com, 2 June 2017. 6 June 2017 <https://www.instagram.com/p/BU0zSWUF0cm/?taken-by=katgaskin>.Kibby, Marjorie Diane. “Monument Valley, Instagram, and the Closed Circle of Representation.” M/C Journal 19.5 (2016). 20 April 2017 <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/index.php/mcjournal/article/view/1152>.Kirkup, Gill. “Academic Blogging: Academic Practice and Academic Identity.” London Review of Education 8.1 (2010): 75–84.liz_ellison. “#AustralianBeachspace.” Storify.com. 8 June 2017. <https://storify.com/liz_ellison/australianbeachspace>.Mahnke Skrubbeltrang, Martina, Josefine Grunnet, and Nicolar Traasdahl Tarp. “#RIPINSTAGRAM: Examining User’s Counter-Narratives Opposing the Introduction of Algorithmic Personalization on Instagram.” First Monday 22.4 (2017). <http://firstmonday.org/ojs/index.php/fm/article/view/7574/6095>.Mahrt, Merja, Katrin Weller, and Isabella Peters. “Twitter in Scholarly Communication.” Twitter and Society. Eds. Katrin Weller, Axel Bruns, Jean Burgess, Merja Mahrt, and Cornelius Puschmann. New York: Peter Lang, 2014. 399–410. <https://eprints.qut.edu.au/66321/1/Twitter_and_Society_(2014).pdf#page=438>.Manikonda, Lydia, Yuheng Hu, and Subbarao Kambhampati. “Analyzing User Activities, Demographics, Social Network Structure and User-Generated Content on Instagram.” ArXiv (2014). 1 June 2017 <https://arxiv.org/abs/1410.8099>.Niyazov, Yuri, Carl Vogel, Richard Price, et al. “Open Access Meets Discoverability: Citations to Articles Posted to Academia.edu.” PloS One 11.2 (2016): e0148257. <https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0148257>.Powell, Douglas A., Casey J. Jacob, and Benjamin J. Chapman. “Using Blogs and New Media in Academic Practice: Potential Roles in Research, Teaching, Learning, and Extension.” Innovative Higher Education 37.4 (2012): 271–82. <http://dx.doi.org/10.1007/s10755-011-9207-7>.Veletsianos, George. “Higher Education Scholars' Participation and Practices on Twitter.” Journal of Computer Assisted Learning 28.4 (2012): 336–49. <http://dx.doi.org/10.1111/j.1365-2729.2011.00449.x>.Weilenmann, Alexandra, Thomas Hillman, and Beata Jungselius. “Instagram at the Museum: Communicating the Museum Experience through Social Photo Sharing.” Proceedings of the SIGCHI Conference on Human Factors in Computing Systems. Paris: ACM Press, 2013. 1843–52. <dx.doi.org/10.1145/2470654.2466243>.

There’s always this never-ending discussion about the curator who imposes meaning or imposes the concept of art, of what art is. I think this is the wrong opposition. Every artwork produces its concept, or a concept of what art is. And the role of the curator is not to produce a concept of art but to invent, to fabricate, elaborate reading grids or coexistence grids between them.(Nicolas Bourriaud quoted in Bourriaud, Lunghi, O’Neill, and Ruf 91–92)In 2010 at a conference in Rotterdam, Nicolas Bourriaud, Enrico Lunghi, Paul O’Neill, and Beatrix Ruf discussed the question, “Is the curator per definition a political animal?” This paper draws on their discussion when posing the reverse scenario—is the political animal per definition a curator in the context of the development of large-scale public policy? In exploring this question, I suggest that recent conceptual discussions centring on “the curatorial turn” in the arena of the creative arts provide a useful framework for understanding and managing opportunities and pitfalls in policymaking that is influenced by news media. Such a conceptual understanding is important. My empirical research has identified a transport policy arena that is changing due to news media scrutiny in Sydney, Australia. My findings are that the discourses arising and circulating in the public and the news media wield considerable influence. I posit in this paper the view that recent academic discussion of curatorial practices could identify more effective and successful approaches to policy development and implementation. I also question whether some of the key problems highlighted by commentary on the curatorial turn, such as the silencing of the voice of the artist, find parallels in policy as the influence of the bureaucrat or technical expert is diminished by the rise of the politician as curator in mediatised policy. The Political AnimalPaul O’Neill defines a political animal: “to be a passionate and human visionary—someone who bridges gaps, negotiates the impossible in order to generate change, even slight change, movements, a shivering” (Bourriaud et al. 90). O’Neill’s definition is a different definition from Aristotle’s famous assertion that humans (collectively) are the “political animal” because they are the only animals to possess speech (Danta and Vardoulakis 3). The essence of O’Neill’s definition shifts from the Aristotelian view that all humans are political, towards what Chris Danta and Dimitris Vardoulakis (4) refer to as “the consumption of the political by politics,” where the domain of the political is the realm of the elite few rather than innately human as Aristotle suggests. Moreover, there is a suggestion in O’Neill’s definition that the “political animal” is the consummate politician, creating change against great opposition. I suggest that this idea of struggle and adversity in O’Neill’s definition echoes policy development’s own “turn” of the early 1990s, “the argumentative turn in policy analysis and planning” (Fischer and Forester 43). The Argumentative Turn The argumentative turn in policy analysis and planning is premised on the assertion that “policy is made of language” (Majone 1). It represents a seismic shift in previously championed academic conceptions of policy analysis—decisionism, rationality, the economic model of choice, and other models that advocate measured, rational, and objective policy development processes. The argumentative turn highlights the importance of communication in policy development. Prior to this turn, policy analysts considered formal communication to be something that happened after policy elites had completed the scientific, objective, analytical, and rational work. Communication was perceived as being the process of “seducing” or the “‘mere words’ that add gloss to the important stuff” (Throgmorton 117–19). Communication had meant selling or “spinning” the policy—a task often left to the devices of the public relations industry by the “less scrupulous” policymaker (Dryzek 227).The new line of inquiry posits the alternative view that, far from communication being peripheral, “the policy process is constituted by and mediated through communicative practices” (Fischer and Gottweis 2). Thanks largely to the work of Deborah Stone and Giandomenico Majone, academics began to ask, “What if our language does not simply mirror or picture the world but instead profoundly shapes our view of it in the first place?” (Fischer and Forester 1). The importance of this turn to the argument, I posit in this paper, is illustrated by Stone when she contends that the communication of conflicting views and interests create a world where paradoxical positions on policy are inevitable. Stone states, “Ask a politician to define a problem and he will probably draw a battlefield and tell you who stands on which side. The analytical language of politics includes ‘for and against,’ ‘supporters and enemies,’ ‘our side and their side’” (166). Stone describes a policymaking process that is inherently difficult. Her ideas echo O’Neill’s intonation that in order for movement or even infinitesimal change it is the negotiation of the impossible that makes a political animal. The Mediatisation of Sydney Transport Stone and Majone speak only cursorily of the media in policy development. However, in recent years academics have increasingly contended that “mediatisation” be recognised as referring to the increasing influence of media in social, cultural, and political spheres (Deacon and Stanyer; Strömbäck and Esser; Shehata and Strömbäck). My own research into the influence of mediatisation on transport policy and projects in Sydney has centred more specifically on the influence of news media. My focus has been a trend towards news media influence in Australian politics and policy that has been observed by academics for more than a decade (Craig; Young; Ward, PR State; Ward, Public Affair; Ward, Power). My research entailed two case study projects, the failed Sydney CBD Metro (SCM) rail line and a North West Rail Link (NWR) currently under construction. Data-gathering included a news media study of 180 relevant print articles; 30 expert interviews with respondents from politics, the bureaucracy, transport planning, news media, and public relations, whose work related to transport (with a number working on the case study projects); and surveys, interviews, and focus groups with 149 public respondents. The research identified projects whose contrasting fortunes tell a significant story in relation to the influence of news media. The SCM, despite being a project deemed to be of considerable merit by the majority of expert respondents, was, as stated by a transport planner who worked on the project, “poorly sold,” which “turned it into a project that was very easy to ridicule.” Following a resulting period of intense news media criticism, the SCM was abandoned. As a transport reporter for a daily newspaper asserts in an interview, the prevailing view in the news media is that the project “was done on the back of an envelope.” According to experts with knowledge of the SCM, that years of planning had been undertaken was not properly presented to the public. Conversely, the experts I interviewed deem the NWR to be a low-priority project for Sydney. As a former chief of staff within both federal and state government departments including transport states, “if you are going to put money into anything in Sydney it would not be the NWR.” However, in the project’s favour is an overwhelming dominant public and media discourse that I label The north-west of Sydney is overdue rail transport. A communications respondent contends in an interview that because the NWR has “been talked about for so long” it holds “the right sighting, if you like, in people’s minds,” in other words, the media and the public have become used to the idea of the project.Ultimately, my findings, dealt with in more detail elsewhere (Richardson), suggest that powerful news media and public discourses, if not managed effectively, can be highly problematic for policymaking. This was found to be the case for the failure of the SCM. It is with this finding that I assert that the concept of curating the discourses surrounding a policy arena could hold considerable merit as a conceptual framework for discourse management. The Curatorial Turn in Policy Development? I was alerted to the idea of curating mediatised policy development during an expert interview for my empirical research. The respondent, chief editor of a Sydney newspaper, stated that, with an overwhelming mountain of information, news, views, and commentary being generated daily through the likes of the Internet and social media, the public needs curators to sift and sort the most important themes and arguments. The expert suggested this is now part of a journalist’s role. The idea of journalists as curators is far from new (Bakker 596). Nor is it the purpose of this paper. However, what struck me in this notion of curating was the critical role of sifting, sorting and ultimately selecting which themes, ideas, or pieces of information are privileged in myriad choices. My own empirical research was indicating that the management of highly influential news media and public discourses surrounding transport infrastructure also involved a considerable level of selection. Therefore, I hypothesised that the concept of curating might aid the managing of discourses when it comes to communicating for successful policy and project development that is subject to news media scrutiny. Research into scholarship has indicated that the concept of “the curatorial turn” is significant to this hypothesis. Since the 1960s the role of curator in art exhibition has shifted from that of “caretaker” for a collection to the shaper of an exhibition (O’Neill, “Turn”; O’Neill, Culture). Central to this shift is “the changing perception of the curator as carer to a curator who has a more creative and active part to play within the production of art itself” (O’Neill, Turn 243). Some commentators go so far as to suggest that curators have become cultural agents that “participate in the production of cultural value” (244). The curator’s role in exhibition design has also been equated to that of an author or auteur that drives an exhibition’s meaning (251–52). Why is this important for policy development? It is my view that there is certainly merit to viewing a significant part of the role of the political animal in policymaking as the curator of public and media discourse. As Beatrix Ruf suggests, the role of the curator is to create a “freedom for things to happen” within “a societal context” that not only takes into account the needs of the “artist” but also the “audience” (Bourriaud et al. 91). If we were to substitute bureaucrat for artist and media/public for audience then Ruf’s suggestion seems particularly relevant for the communication of policy. To return to Bourriaud’s quote that began this paper, perhaps the role of the curator/policymaker is not solely to produce a policy “but to invent, to fabricate, elaborate reading grids or coexistence grids,” to manage the discourses that influence the policy arena (Bourriaud et al. 92). Furthermore, the answer to why the concept of the curatorial turn seems relevant to policy development requires consideration not only of the rise of the voice and influence of the curator/policymaker but also of those at whose expense this shift has occurred. Through the rise of the curator the voice of the artist has dimmed. As the exhibition is elevated to “the status of quasi-artwork,” individual artworks themselves become simply “a useful fragment” (O’Neill, “Turn” 253). One of the underlying tensions of the curatorial turn is the rise of actors that are not practicing artists themselves. In other words, the producers of art, the artists, have less influence over their own practice. In New South Wales (NSW), we have witnessed a similar scenario with the steady rise of the voice and influence of the politician (and political adviser), at the expense of the public service. This loss of bureaucratic power was embedded structurally in the mid-1970s when Premier Neville Wran established the Ministerial Advisory Unit (MAU) to oversee NSW state government decisions. A respondent for my research states that when he began his career as a public servant: politicians didn’t really have a lot of ideas about things … the public service really ran the place … [Premier Wran] said, ‘this isn’t good enough. I’m being manipulated by the government departments. I’m going to set up something called the MAU which is politically appointed as a countervailing force to the bureaucracy to get the advice that I want.’The respondent infers a power grab by political actors to stymie the influence of the bureaucracy. This view is shared by several expert respondents for my research, as well as being substantiated by historian John Gunn (503). One of the clear results of the structural change has been that a politically driven media focus is now embedded in the structure of government policy and project decision-making. Instead of taking its lead from priorities emanating from the community, the bureaucracy is instead left with little choice but to look to the minister for guidance. As a project management consultant to government states in an interview:I think today the bureaucrat who makes the hard administrative decisions, the management decisions, is basically outweighed by communications, public relations, media relations director … the politicians are poll driven not policy driven. The respondent makes a point with which former politician Lindsay Tanner (Tanner) and academic Ian Ward (Ward, Power) agree—Australian politicians are increasingly structuring their operations around news media. The bureaucracy has become less relevant to policymaking as a result. My empirical research indicates this. The SCM and the NWR were highly publicised projects where the views of transport experts were largely ignored. They represent cases where the voice of the experts/artists had been completely suppressed by the voice of the politician/curator. I contend that this is where key questions of the role of the politician and the curator converge. Experts interviewed for my research express concerns that policymaking has been altered by structural changes to the bureaucracy. Similarly, some academics concerned with the rise of the curator question whether the shift will change the very nature of art (O’Neill, Cultures). A shared concern of the art world and those witnessing the policy arena in NSW is that the thoughts and ideas of those that do are being overshadowed by the views of those who talk. In terms of curatorial practice, O’Neill (Cultures) cites the views of Mick Wilson, who speaks of the rise of the “Foucauldian moment” and the “ubiquitous appeal of the term ‘discourse’ as a word to conjure and perform power,” where “even talking is doing something.” As O’Neill contends, “at this extreme, the discursive stands in the place of ‘doing’ within discourses on curatorial practice” (43). O’Neill submits Wilson’s point as an extreme view within the curatorial turn. However, the concern for the art world should be similar to the one experienced in the policy arena. Technical advice from the bureaucracy (doers) to ministers (talkers) has changed. In an interview with me, a partner in one of Australia’s leading architectural and planning practices contends that the technical advice of the bureaucracy to ministers is not as “fearless and robust” as it once was. Furthermore, he is concerned that planners have lost their influence as ministers now look to political advisers rather than technical advisers for direction. He states, “now what happens is most advisors to ministers are political advisers and they will give political advice … the planning advice hasn’t come from the planners.” The ultimate concern is that, through a silencing of the technical expert, policymaking is losing a vital layer of experience and knowledge that can only be to the detriment of the practice and its beneficiaries, the public. The closer one looks, the more evident the similarities between curating and policy development become. Acute budgetary limitations exist. There is an increased reliance on public funding. Large-scale curating, like policy development, involves “a negotiation of the relationship between public and private interests” (Ruf in Bourriaud et al. 90). There is also a tension between short- and long-term outlooks as well as local and global perspectives (Lunghi in Bourriaud et al. 97). And, significantly for my argument for the privileging of the concept of curating of discourse in policy, curating has also been called “a battlefield of ideas in which the public (or audience) has become ‘the big Other’” in that “everything that cannot find its audience, its public, is highly suspicious or very problematic” (Bourriaud in Bourriaud et al. 96–97). The closer the inspection, the starker the similarities of each pursuit. Lessons, Ramifications and Conclusions What can policymakers learn from the curatorial turn? For policymaking, it seems that the argumentative turn, the rise of news mediatisation, the strengthening of power and influence of the politician, and the “Foucauldian moment” have seen the rise of the discursive in place of doing that some quarters identify as being the case with the curatorial turn (O’Neill, Cultures). Therefore, it would be pertinent for policymakers to heed Bourriaud’s statement that began this paper: “the role of the curator is not to produce a concept of art (or policy) but to invent, to fabricate, elaborate reading grids or coexistence grids between them” (Bourriaud et al. 92). Is such a method of curating discourse the way forward for the political animal that seeks to achieve the politically “impossible” in policymaking? Perhaps for policymaking the importance of the concept of curating holds both opportunity and a warning. The opportunity, exemplified by the success of the NWR and the failure of the SCM projects in Sydney, is in accepting the role of media and public discourses in policy development so that they may be more thoroughly investigated and understood before being more effectively folded into the policymaking process. The warning lies in the concerns the curatorial turn has raised over the demise of the artist in light of the rise of discourse. The voice of the technical expert appears to be fading. How do we effectively curate discourses as well as restore the bureaucrat to former levels of robust fearlessness? I dare say it will take a political animal to do either. ReferencesBakker, Piet. “Mr Gates Returns.” Journalism Studies 15.5 (2014): 596–606.Bourriaud, Nicolas, Enrico Lunghi, Paul O’Neill, and Beatrix Ruf. “Is the Curator per Definition a Political Animal?” Rotterdam Dialogues: The Critics, the Curators, the Artists. Eds. Zoe Gray, Miriam Kathrein, Nicolaus Schafhausen, Monika Szewczyk, and Ariadne Urlus. Rotterdam: Witte de With Publishers, 2010. 87–99. Craig, Geoffrey. The Media, Politics and Public Life. Crows Nest, NSW: Allen and Unwin, 2004.Danta, Chris, and Dimitris Vardoulakis. “The Political Animal.” SubStance 37.3 (2008): 3–6. Dryzek, John S. “Policy Analysis and Planning: From Science to Argument.” The Argumentative Turn in Policy Analysis and Planning. Eds. Frank Fischer and John Forester. Durham, NC: Duke UP, 1993. 213–32.Fischer, Frank, and John Forester. “Editors’ Introduction.” The Argumentative Turn in Policy Analysis and Planning. Eds. Frank Fischer and John Forester. Durham, NC: Duke UP, 1993. 1–17.Fischer, Frank, and Herbert Gottweis. Argumentative Turn Revisited: Public Policy as Communicative Practice. Durham, NC: Duke UP, 2012.Gunn, John. Along Parallel Lines: A History of the Railways of New South Wales. Carlton: Melbourne UP, 1989.Majone, Giandomenico. Evidence, Argument, and Persuasion in the Policy Process. New Haven: Yale UP, 1989.O’Neill, Paul. “The Curatorial Turn: From Practice to Discourse.” The Biennial Reader. Eds. Elena Filipovic, Marieke Van Hal, and Solvig Øvstebø. Bergen, Norway: Bergen Kunsthall, 2007. 240–59.———. The Culture of Curating and the Curating of Cultures. Cambridge, MA: The MIT P, 2012.Richardson, Nicholas. “Political Upheaval in Australia: Media, Foucault and Shocking Policy.” Media International Australia. Forthcoming.Shehata, Adam, and Jesper Strömbäck. “Mediation of Political Realities: Media as Crucial Sources of Information.” Mediatization of Politics: Understanding the Transformation of Western Democracies. Eds. Frank Esser and Jesper Strömbäck. Basingstoke, Hampshire; New York, NY: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014. 93–112. Stone, Deborah. Policy Paradox and Political Reason. Glenview, Illinois: Scott, Foresman and Company, 1988.Strömbäck, Jesper, and Frank Esser. “Mediatization of Politics: Towards a Theoretical Framework.” Mediatization of Politics: Understanding the Transformation of Western Democracies. Eds. Frank Esser and Jesper Strömbäck. Basingstoke, Hampshire: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014. 3–28.Tanner, Lindsay. Sideshow: Dumbing Down Democracy. Carlton North, Victoria: Scribe, 2011.Throgmorton, James A. “Survey Research as Rhetorical Trope: Electric Power Planning in Chicago.” The Argumentative Turn in Policy Analysis and Planning. Eds. Frank Fischer and John Forester. Durham, NC: Duke UP, 1993. 117–44.Ward, Ian. “An Australian PR State?” Australian Journal of Communication 30.1 (2003): 25–42. ———. “Lobbying as a Public Affair: PR and Politics in Australia.” Communication, Creativity and Global Citizenship. ANZCA: Brisbane, 2009. 1039–56. ‹http://www.anzca.net/documents/anzca-09-1/refereed-proceedings-2009-1/79-lobbying-as-a-public-affair-pr-and-politics-in-australia-1/file.html›.———. “The New and Old Media, Power and Politics.” Government, Politics, Power and Policy in Australia. Eds. Dennis Woodward, Andrew Parkin, and John Summers. Frenchs Forest, NSW: Pearson, 2010. 374–93.Young, Sally. “Killing Competition: Restricting Access to Political Communication Channels in Australia.” AQ: Journal of Contemporary Analysis 75.3 (2003): 9–15.