Статті в журналах з теми "Morton National Park"

Since the turn of the century, a third of the mammal species of arid Australia have suffered a drastic decline in distribution and abundance. Uluru National Park has not escaped the massive loss of mammals, with over 15 species being lost from the Park in the last century, and some, including the brush-tailed possum, Trichosurus vulpecula, becoming locally extinct in the last twenty years (Baynes and Baird 1992, Reid, Kerle and Morton 1993). This suggests that the processes causing the decline are still operating. The mulgara Dasycercus cristicauda, remains extant in the vicinity of Uluru National Park but has suffered extensive range reductions and is believed to be less abundant in areas which it still occupies (Kennedy 1990, Gibson and Cole 1992, Woolley 1995). Very little is known about the field ecology of D. cristicauda and this has hindered the conservation management of the remaining populations. I report here on ecological data collected from a population at Uluru National Park between 1987 and 1990. This information was collected during a study of the effects of fire on small mammals of the area (Masters 1993).

The multiple-use Moreton Bay Marine Park in eastern Australia was rezoned in 2009, increasing the total no-take marine national park (MNP) from 0.5 to 16%. In the present study we measured trends in the human use of no-take areas using observed vessel position and categorisation during on-water and aerial surveys before and after rezoning. Measured changes in spatial patterns of fishing showed that the effects of rezoning on most fishing activity was minimal. After rezoning, the proportion of recreational fishing declined from 6.3 to 2.6% of the footprint in the new MNPs. The proportion of commercial fishing declined from 25 to 1%, although the amount of commercial fishing was low. There was an overall increase in fishing activity on Moreton Bay. Low recreational fisher displacement suggests that the expansion of the MNP area did not have a high social cost. However, most of the no-take zones were areas not previously subject to high recreational fishing pressure. If a significant proportion of the no-take zones were placed in areas of low ecological production, the biodiversity conservation impact achieved by the rezoning of Moreton Bay may have been less than the 16% increase in no-take areas would imply.

There is a wide literature in bird community ecology that bears on questions of species composition and species densities, and the variations in these attributes within habitats between years and between different geographic regions, and between habitat types both locally and regionally (Cody 1975, 1985; Diamond & Case 1986). While there has always been considerable debate on the constancy of bird communities within habitats and among years, and the extent to which community attributes are predictable and deterministic, rather than variable, stochastic or even chaotic (e.g. Wiens 1985, 1988), recently other developments have accentuated the need for measuring and evaluating bird distributions and densities. There is a fast-developing literature that documents recent (ca. the last decade or two) declines in bird species' distributions and densities at both local and regional scales, and emphasizes in particular evidence for recent reductions in the ranges and densities of bird species that are neotropical migrants (e.g. Hutto 1980, 1986; Keast & Morton 1980; Terborgh 1989; Smithsonian 1991). Given especially the concern that bird species breeding in North American sites and overwintering at lower latitudes (where habitat destruction and fragmentation are particularly rapid), data on status changes in breeding bird communities need to be carefully monitored. The best, perhaps the only, way of doing this is to collect current data, to contrast with comparable data collected in a similar fashion in earlier periods. Thus the rationale for this study is apparent: during 1966-68 I obtained extensive data on the bird communities at two sites in Jackson Hole within Grand Teton National Park, located near the site of the old Research Station on the north side of the Snake River below the dam at Jackson Lake. During two field seasons 1991-92 I reassessed the bird communities at these two sites, with the major objective being a documentation of whether, in which ways, and to what extent, the bird communities of the two sites had changed over the 25-year period. The birds in Jackson Hole are particularly appropriate for this 25-year, then-and-now comparison, since none of the dominant species at the two study sites is resident. But while some species winter almost wholly within the United States (e.g. Fox sparrow (Passerella ilaca), other species winter in northern Mexico in desert habitats (e.g. Brewer's sparrow Spizella breweri, Chipping sparrow Spizella passerina) or west-coastal second growth habitats (e.g. Yellow warbler Dendroica petechia, Common Yellowthroat Geothlypis trichas), and yet others winter much further south into Central America (e.g. MacGillivray's warbler Oporornis tolmei, Wilson's warbler Wilsonia pusilla). The results of the comparison are presented in this report, where differences in species composition and density are revealed in both the short-term (adjacent years) and the longer term (between censuses over 25 years apart). But despite such variations, it will be noted that the overall community structure and composition of the sites has changed little over the quarter century.

We present new information on oviposition behaviour in the Mormon Metalmark, Apodemia mormo Felder and Felder, 1859, documented in Grasslands National Park of Canada, Saskatchewan, in August 2011. The Mormon Metalmark is found throughout the U.S. southwest; little is known about its life history in the northern populations found in Canada. We provide photographic documentation of the butterfly laying single eggs directly on soil or rocks. These observations differ from those recorded in the southern part of its range, where it lays eggs in groups of 2–4 on various locations of the host plant, Branched Umbrella-Plant, Eriogonum pauciflorum Pursh. This is the first published account of oviposition behaviour of this species in Canada in the most northern part of its range.

GIS analysis of LiDAR imagery facilitated the completion of a modified NHPA Section 110 Class II survey and inventory. The identification and recordation of 58 new archaeological sites, 21 isolated finds, and 18 updated site records in the vicinity of the Mormon Row Historic District (MRHD; 48TE1444) has led to a recommendation that the landscape and the resources be collectively nominated and designated as a Rural Historic Landscape (RHL). The fieldwork was accomplished using a newly invented method called iterology that takes into account ideology, technology, historical ecology, and the archival/archaeological record in an iterative process (back and forth) across scales, dimensions, and intersections of cultural resources within a landscape in an effort to locate the object of Mormonideological desire in the archaeological record. One can locate the object of ideological desire in the archaeological record if certain assumptions are accepted and protocols followed. The result of the fieldwork and analysis is the location of the object as well as the production of a Doctoral dissertation outlining the methods and theory needed to arrive at the conclusions and results. The object is the Mormon Irrigation Pattern, first observed in LiDAR imagery at Mormon Row. Featured photo by Tim Peterson on Unsplash. https://unsplash.com/photos/Ab6ksdu5Q7k

This study was carried out in 2004 in Iguacu National Park (INP), Paraná-Brazil. The vegetation is composed of Araucaria Forest (AF) (13.1%) and Seasonal Semi-deciduous Forest (FES) (86.9%). Two types of materials were analyzed: litter (L) and woody material (W) (alive (A) and dead (D)), and classified by diameter: W1(0–0.70 cm), W2(0.71–2.5 cm), W3(2.51–7.50 cm), and W4(³7.5 cm). The results for the FES was 21.7 t/ha, with 42.4% in diameter class WD4 (8.98 t/ha) and 38.6% was litter (8.17 t/ha). The FOM was 12.87 t/ha, with 78.9% litter. The carbon stocks of the materials varied between 36.2% and 42.1% (for litter and WD4), both in the FES. There were no significant differences between the carbon stocks of the forest types. Rather differences existed between the pools (5% ANOVA and Tukey test). In the FES the carbon stock was 8.29 t/ha, which is equivalent to 30.41 tCO2e/ha, and in the FOM the stock was 4.94t/ha or 18.12 tCO2e/ha. For the vegetation types the carbon stock in INP was 8.35 tC/ha and 30.62 tCO2e/ha for the FES and FOM, respectively. The carbon pools analyzed in this study contribute significantly to the total carbon stock of a forest ecosystem and should always be taken into consideration when developing estimates for a forest.Keywords: Araucaria; Seasonal Semideciduous Forest; Araucaria Forest; climate change; carbon fraction. ResumoBiomassa e carbono na vegetação não arbórea, madeira morta e serapilheira no Parque Nacional do Iguaçu. O trabalho ocorreu em 2004 no Parque Nacional do Iguaçu (PNI), Paraná. O PNI tem Floresta Ombrófila Mista (FOM) (13,1%) e Floresta Estacional Semidecidual (FES) (86,9%). Foram analisados L – serapilheira e W – materiais lenhosos (vivos – A e mortos – D), classificados pelos diâmetros: W1 (0 a 0,70 cm), W2 (0,71 a 2,5 cm), W3 (2,51 a 7,50 cm) e W4 (³7,51 cm). Os resultados da FES mostram 21,7 t.ha-1, sendo 42,4% do WD4 (8,98 t.ha-1) e 38,6% da serapilheira (8,17 t.ha-1). Na FOM, foram 12,87 t.ha-1 (78,9%) da serapilheira. Os teores de carbono dos materiais variaram de 36,2 a 42,1% (para serapilheira e WD4), ambos na FES. Não houve diferenças significativas nos teores de carbono, havendo diferença nos compartimentos (5% ANOVA) e teste de Tukey. Na FES, o estoque de carbono foi 8,29 t.ha-1, correspondendo a 30,41 tCO2e.ha-1, e na FOM de 4,94 tC.ha-1 e 18,12 tCO2e.ha-1. Para as fitofisionomias, o estoque de C no INP foi de 8,35 tC.ha-1 e 30,62 tCO2e.ha-1. Os reservatórios de C analisados no estudo apresentam participação importante no estoque total de C do ecossistema florestal, devendo sempre serem considerados quando do desenvolvimento de estimativas para a floresta.Palavras-chave: Araucária; Floresta Estacional Semidecidual; Floresta Ombrófila Mista; mudanças climáticas; teor de carbono.

Kelly Warm Springs is a unique geological feature located within Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming. The Kelly Warm Springs area is used extensively by park wildlife, for recreation by park visitors, and is a place of educational interest. It has also been the site of historic non-native fish releases. The current work was initiated to gather historical information and to begin systematic documentation of temperatures in and around Kelly Warm Springs. Historic information that was not published but considered valid was included. Non-native fish presence was first documented in the 1960s. Concerns about non-native fish and habitat loss for native species were discussed by researchers in the 1980s. The temperature ranges recorded at several sites October – December 2014 approached 0oC at the lower section of the outflow channel, but remained above 20oC in the spring pond. While these range below the preferred temperature range for goldfish, research has documented survival in near zero temperatures. All sites located below Mormon Row where temperature loggers were initially deployed were either dewatered or frozen by mid-November.

GIS analysis of LiDAR imagery facilitated a modified NHPA Section 110 Class II survey and inventory performed in the summer of 2016 resulting in the identification of hundreds of fragmentary, relict, and extant cultural resources located in the vicinity of the Mormon Row Historic District (MRHD; 48TE1444) between June 6 and August 10, 2016. Correct identification and association of newly located cultural resources with persons, historic-era homesteads, and historic events is a complex and lengthy process requiring thorough artifact analysis and substantial background, ethnologic, and archival (contextual) research to make recommendations of significance, eligibility, and/or inclusion as contributing elements or not to the MRHD. Moving from the artifact scale to the site, feature, or historic district scale is a scalar process. Once at the site or historic district scale, it may be appropriate to ask whether the cultural resources can be addressed at a landscape scale, and ask new research questions such as: What if one were to consider all the cultural resources–prehistoric, historic, and natural–together? Are there theories and/or methodologies that can accommodate multiple layers of cultural resources and time frames and result in interpretations that are meaningful for present and future cultural resources management praxis? Featured photo by Tim Peterson on Unsplash. https://unsplash.com/photos/Ab6ksdu5Q7k

Scholastique Mukasonga, nascida em 1956 em Ruanda, é uma escritora francófona sobrevivente do genocídio dos tutsis ocorrido nos anos 1990. Ela emigrou para a França nesse período e ali estabeleceu residência trabalhando como assistente social. Escrever passou a ser uma necessidade para salvar a memória[1]: Onde estão eles hoje? Na cripta memorial da igreja de Nyamata, crânios anônimos entre tantas ossadas? Na brousse, sob os espinheiros, em uma fossa que ainda não veio a público? Copio inúmeras vezes o nome que ainda não veio a público? Copio inúmeras vezes o nome deles no caderno de capa azul, quero provar a mim mesma que eles existiram, pronuncio seus nomes um a um na noite silenciosa. Sobre cada nome devo definir um rosto, pendurar um retalho como lembrança. Não quero chorar, sinto as lágrimas escorrerem pelas minhas faces. Fecho os olhos, esta será mais uma noite sem sono. Tenho muitos mortos a velar.[2] Depois de conferências realizadas em São Paulo em novembro de 2019 sobre três de suas obras traduzidas para o português e publicadas pela editora Nós: A mulher dos pés descalços (2017), Nossa Senhora do Nilo (2017) e Baratas (2018), a autora Scholastique Mukasonga, acompanhada de seu filho Aurélien, gentilmente, nos concedeu uma entrevista em seu hotel, que foi gravada em áudio antes de seu embarque para Nova York, onde concorreu ao prêmio National Book Awards 2019 por A mulher dos pés descalços. Segundo a escritora, esse é o seu livro mais conhecido nos Estados Unidos e no Brasil, lançado na FLIP em Paraty em 2017. Depois de transcrever integralmente a gravação de uma hora de entrevista e traduzi-la, procuramos cortar repetições e hesitações características da oralidade afim de tornar a leitura mais fluida. A escritora teve ciência de todo o processo até a publicação desta entrevista. [1] As citações presentes nessa entrevista foram escolhidas pelas entrevistadoras. [2] MUKASONGA, S. Baratas. Tradução Elisa Nazarian. São Paulo: 2018, p. 18.

The Gnangara Mound is a 2,200 km 2 unconfined aquifer located in the Swan Coastal Plain of Western Australia. This aquifer is one of the most important ground water resources for the Perth Region and supports a number of groundwaterdependent ecosystems, such as the springs of Ellen Brook and root mat communities of the Yanchep Caves. Although freshwater copepods have been documented previously from those caves and springs, their specific identity were hitherto unknown. The current work formally identifies copepod samples collected from 23 sites (12 cave, three bore, five spring and three surface water localities) within the Gnangara Mound region. Fifteen species were documented in this study: the cyclopoids Australoeucyclops sp., Eucyclops edytae sp. nov., Macrocyclops albidus (Jurine, 1820), Mesocyclops brooksi Pesce, De Laurentiis & Humphreys, 1996, Metacyclops arnaudi (G. O. Sars, 1908), Mixocyclops mortoni sp. nov., Paracyclops chiltoni (Thomson, 1882), Paracyclops intermedius sp. nov. and Tropocyclops confinis (Kiefer, 1930), and the harpacticoids Attheyella (Chappuisiella) hirsuta Chappuis, 1951, Australocamptus hamondi Karanovic, 2004, Elaphoidella bidens (Schmeil, 1894), Kinnecaris eberhardi (Karanovic, 2005), Nitocra lacustris pacifica Yeatman, 1983 and Paranitocrella bastiani gen. et sp. nov. Tropocyclops confinis is recorded from Australia for the first time and A. (Ch.) hirsuta and E. bidens are newly recorded for Western Australia. The only copepod taxa endemic to the Gnangara Mound region are E. edytae sp. nov. (occurs primarily in springs and rarely in the Yanchep National Park Caves) and P. bastiani gen. et sp. nov. (confined to the Yanchep National Park Caves containing tuart root mats). Paracyclops chiltoni was the most common species, whilst T. confinis and N. l. pacifica were rarely encountered. Metacyclops arnaudi was the only taxon absent from ground waters. The copepod fauna recorded in the caves and springs of the Gnangara Mound region are comparable, with respect to species richness, endemicity and the varying degrees of dependency on ground water, to those reported from similar habitats in South Australia and Western Australia. Restoring the root mats and maintaining permanent water flow within the Yanchep Caves, as well as minimising urban development near the Ellen Brook Springs, are essential to protect the copepod species, particularly the endemic P. bastiani gen. et sp. nov. and E. edytae sp. nov., inhabiting these unique ground water environments.

QUALIDADE DA ÁGUA UTILIZADA PARA IRRIGAÇÃO DE HORTALIÇAS NA REGIÃO DE BOTUCATU-SP Ana Maria Morato Fávero de Fravet; Raimundo Leite CruzDepartamento de Engenharia Rural, Faculdade de Ciências Agronômicas, Universidade Estadual Paulista, Botucatu, SP, amfravet@fca.unesp.br 1 RESUMO Objetivou-se com o presente trabalho verificar a qualidade da água utilizada para irrigação por produtores de hortaliças da região de Botucatu-SP.Foram entrevistados 27 produtores que vendem hortaliças nas feiras livres de Botucatu. Dentre estes produtores, foram selecionados dez, sendo um de cada localidade.Foram coletadas três amostras de água de cada fonte. Os principais padrões para avaliar os resultados obtidos foram os da Resolução do CONAMA (Conselho Nacional do Meio Ambiente) N° 357, de 17 de março de 2005, que estabelece os padrões para classificação dos corpos de água.A Condutividade Elétrica foi avaliada segundo valor sugerido pela CETESB e a cor foi verificada conforme a OMS (Organização Mundial da Saúde), para água potável devido a Resolução do CONAMA não estipular um valor para classificação.Para a saúde pública, apenas os coliformes e o nitrato são as variáveis preocupantes por estarem relacionados com a incidência de doenças, assim, das águas analisadas, 40% delas (produtores A, F, H e J) oferecem algum tipo de risco para a saúde da população de Botucatu, segundo padrão estabelecido pelo CONAMA.Podemos concluir que, de maneira geral, essas águas, encontram-se em condições não alarmantes, pois não apresentam valores muito diferentes daqueles estabelecidos pela legislação. UNITERMOS: classificação dos corpos de água, saúde pública, coliformes, nitrato. FRAVET, A, M. M. F. de; CRUZ R. L. QUALITY OF WATER USED FOR VEGETABLE IRRIGATION IN BOTUCATU AREA 2 ABSTRACT This study aimed to verify the quality of water used for irrigation by vegetable farmers in Botucatu area.27 farmers that sell vegetables in the street markets of Botucatu were interviewed. Among them, ten were selected. Each one was from a different place of the studied area.Three water samples from each water source were collected. In order to evaluate the obtained results, the main used standard was the one used by CONAMA (National Environment Council) resolution No. 357, March 17, 2005, because it establishes the standard for water classification.The Electric conductivity was evaluated according to values suggested by CETESB, but water color was verified according to WHO (World health organization) standard for drinking water because the CONAMA resolution does not determine classification values for that.For public health, just coliforms and nitrate are the preoccupying variables because they are related to the incidence of diseases. 40% of analyzed waters (A, F, H and J farmers) offer some risk to Botucatu population’s health, according to the standard established by CONAMA.We can conclude that in general analyzed waters are in non-alarming conditions and do not present very different values from those established by the legislation. KEYWORDS: water classification, public health, coliforms, nitrate.

e4662028The work now carried out comprises autobiographical research that brings as subject the first woman in custody in the state of Ceará to enter a Public University through the National High School Exam for Persons Deprived of Liberty, Cynthia Corvello. The main objective of the study is to present aspects of his life, especially in the period of serving his sentence (from 1998 to the present day), which relate to the experience of undergoing the exam, obtaining approval, and entering the Federal University of Ceará in 2012. Therefore, the elements referring to his experience as a graduate student and now a Master’s student in History are of interest to the proposed investigation. Methodologically, we invested in qualitative research along the lines of an autobiographical study. Cynthia Corvello was asked to narrate her life trajectory in writing, highlighting the emotions and feelings that marked her childhood, the moment of imprisonment, submission to the national exam, and admission to the University, sometimes as a graduate student, sometimes as a master student. The results emphasize the contribution of the National High School Examination for Persons Deprived of Liberty policy, which allows people in situations of deprivation of liberty to apply for a place in Higher Education and consequently modify their life histories.ResumoO trabalho ora realizado compreende uma pesquisa autobiográfica que traz como sujeito a primeira mulher em situação de privação de liberdade custodiada no estado do Ceará a ingressar em uma Universidade Pública por meio do Exame Nacional do Ensino Médio para Pessoas Privadas de Liberdade, Cynthia Corvello. O objetivo central do estudo é apresentar os aspectos de sua vida, especialmente no período de cumprimento da pena (de 1998 aos dias atuais), que se relacionam à experiência de se submeter ao referido exame, obter aprovação e ingressar na Universidade Federal do Ceará no ano de 2012. Portanto, os elementos referentes à sua experiência como estudante de graduação e agora mestranda em História interessam à investigação proposta. Metodologicamente se investiu em uma pesquisa qualitativa nos moldes de um estudo autobiográfico. Foi solicitado que Cynthia Corvello narrasse sua trajetória de vida por escrito, ressaltando as emoções e sentimentos que marcaram a sua infância, o momento da prisão, a submissão ao exame nacional e o ingresso na Universidade, ora como graduanda, ora como mestranda. Os resultados enfatizam a contribuição da política do Exame Nacional do Ensino Médio para Pessoas Privadas de Liberdade, que possibilita que pessoas em situação de privação de liberdade possam concorrer a uma vaga no Ensino Superior e consequentemente modificarem suas histórias de vida.Palavras-chave: Biografia, Prisão, Enem PPL.Keywords: Autobiography, Deprivation of freedom, Enem PPL.ReferencesABRAHÃO, Maria Helena Menna Barreto. Memória, narrativas e pesquisa autobiográfica. Revista História da Educação, Pelotas, n. 14, p. 79-95, 2003. Disponível em: https://seer.ufrgs.br/asphe/article/view/30223/pdf. Acesso em: 30 jul. 2020.ADORNO, Sérgio. A prisão sob a ótica de seus protagonistas: itinerário de uma pesquisa. Tempo Social: Revista de Sociologia da USP, São Paulo, v. 3, n. 1-2, p. 7-40, 1991. DOI: https://doi.org/10.1590/ts.v3i1/2.84813. Disponível em: https://www.scielo.br/pdf/ts/v3n1-2/0103-2070-ts-03-02-0007.pdf. Acesso em: 30 jul. 2020.ANDRÉ, Marli. Texto, contexto e significado: algumas questões na análise de dados qualitativos. Cadernos de Pesquisa, São Paulo, n. 45, p. 66-71, 1983. Disponível em: http://publicacoes.fcc.org.br/ojs/index.php/cp/article/view/1491/1485. Acesso em: 30 jul. 2020.BARRETO, Lima. Cemitério dos Vivos. São Paulo: Planeta, 2004.BOFF, Leonardo. A águia e a galinha. Rio de Janeiro: Sextante, 2009.BRASIL. Levantamento Nacional de Informações Penitenciárias: Infopen. Brasília, DF: Ministério da Justiça e Segurança Pública, 2019.BRASIL. Portaria nº 807, de 18 de junho de 2010. Institui o Exame Nacional do Ensino Médio - ENEM como procedimento de avaliação cujo objetivo é aferir se o participante do Exame, ao final do ensino médio, demonstra domínio dos princípios científicos e tecnológicos que presidem a produção moderna e conhecimento das formas contemporâneas de linguagem. Diário Oficial [da] República Federativa do Brasil, Poder Executivo, Brasília, DF, 21 jun. 2010.CEARÁ. Plano Estadual de Educação nas Prisões do Estado do Ceará. Fortaleza: Seduc, 2020.CHARLOT, Bernard. A pesquisa educacional entre conhecimentos, políticas e práticas: especificidades e desafios de uma área de saber. Revista Brasileira de Educação, Rio de Janeiro, v. 11, n. 31, p. 7-18, 2006. DOI: https://doi.org/10.1590/S1413-24782006000100002. Disponível em: https://www.scielo.br/pdf/rbedu/v11n31/a02v11n31.pdf. Acesso em: 30 jul. 2020.DENZIN, Norman. Interpretando a vida de pessoas comuns: Sartre, Heidegger e Faulkner. Dados, Rio de Janeiro, v. 27, n. 1, 1984.DOSTOIÉVSKI, Fiódor. Recordações da casa dos mortos. São Paulo: Nova Alexandria, 2006.ERIKSON, Erik Homburger. Crescimento e crises. In: MILLON, T. (Org.). Teorias da psicopatologia e personalidade. Rio de Janeiro: Interamericana, 1979. p. 91-104.FOUCAULT, Michel. A vida dos homens infames. In: MOTTA, Manoel Barros da (Org.). Estratégia, poder-saber. 2. ed. Rio de Janeiro: Forense Universitária, 2006. p. 203-222.FOUCAULT, Michel. Microfísica do poder. 15. ed. Rio de Janeiro: Graal, 2000.GOFFMAN, Erving. Manicômios, prisões e conventos. São Paulo: Perspectiva, 2013.HART, Carl. Nelson Mandela. São Paulo: Macmillan Education, 2009.IBGE – Instituto Brasileiro de Geografia e Estatística. Síntese de Indicadores Sociais. Rio de Janeiro: IBGE, 2019.IMBERNÓN, Francisco. Formação continuada de professores. Porto Alegre: Artmed, 2010.INEP – Instituto Nacional de Estudos e Pesquisas Educacionais Anísio Teixeira. Enem PPL: participantes, 2020. Brasília, DF: MEC, 2020.LISPECTOR, Clarice. A descoberta do mundo. Rio de Janeiro: Rocco, 1999.MAEYER, Marc De. A educação na prisão não é uma mera atividade. Educação Realidade, Porto Alegre, v. 38, n. 1, p. 33-49, 2013. Disponível em: https://www.scielo.br/pdf/edreal/v38n1/04.pdf. Acesso em: 30 jul. 2020.MENDES, Igor. A pequena prisão. São Paulo: N-1, 2017.NASCIMENTO, Valdriano Ferreira do. O currículo produzido nas veredas da prática na formação do pedagogo na UECE. 2019. 218 f. Tese (Doutorado em Educação) – Programa de Pós-Graduação em Educação, Universidade Estadual do Ceará, Fortaleza, 2019.NOGUEIRA, Oracy. Preconceito racial de marca e preconceito racial de origem: sugestão de um quadro de referência para a interpretação do material sobre relações raciais no Brasil. Tempo Social: Revista de Sociologia da USP, São Paulo, v. 19, n. 1, p. 287-308, 2006. DOI: https://doi.org/10.1590/S0103-20702007000100015. Disponível em: https://www.scielo.br/pdf/ts/v19n1/a15v19n1.pdf. Acesso em: 30 jul. 2020.ONOFRE, Elenice Maria Cammarosano. Educação escolar na prisão: o olhar de alunos e professores. Jundiaí: Paco, 2014.SILVEIRA, Fernando Lang da; BARBOSA, Marcia Cristina Bernardes; SILVA, Roberto da. Exame Nacional do Ensino Médio (ENEM): uma análise crítica. Revista Brasileira de Ensino de Física, São Paulo, v. 37, n. 1, p. 1101-1104, 2015. DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.1590/s1806-11173710001. Disponível em: https://www.scielo.br/pdf/rbef/v37n1/1806-1117-rbef-s1806-11173710001.pdf. Acesso em: 30 jul. 2020.SOARES, Carla Poennia Gadelha. Diário de aula: registros do repensar docente a respeito da avaliação de ensino-aprendizagem no contexto de privação de liberdade. 2019. 282 f. Tese (Doutorado em Educação) – Programa de Pós-Graduação em Educação, Universidade Federal do Ceará, Fortaleza, 2019.STAKE, Robert. Pesquisa qualitativa: estudando como as coisas funcionam. Porto Alegre: Penso, 2011.

RESUMO O texto apresenta resultados preliminares de pesquisa sobre as estratégias empregadas na apropriação do Kaspertheater para fins de propaganda no Nacional-Socialismo. Essa forma popular de teatro de bonecos alemã foi adaptada para peças de ideologia nazista, apresentadas em diversos circuitos, incluindo fronts de guerra. O artigo situa as relações entre arte e política nesse contexto e discute as ambiguidades dos usos da comicidade atrelados a programas de extrema-direita. Traz, como contraponto, encenações contemporâneas do Kaspertheater. Investiga as relações entre a cultura popular e a legitimação de projetos de identidade nacional, com o intuito de contribuir para esse debate no Brasil.

<p><strong>Résumé :</strong></p><p>En République Démocratique du Congo, il a été constaté́ depuis les années 90, la prolifération des partis politiques. Cette multiplication des formations politiques inquiète le peuple qui ne voit pas leur retombée dans l’amélioration de sa vie socio-économique. L’étude a analysé́ les opinions des Kinois de la Commune de Ngaliema sur ce phénomène. Sur ce, une enquête a été menée dans un échantillon occasionnel de 221 habitants de 12 quartiers de la Commune de Ngaliema à Kinshasa<a title="" href="file:///C:/Users/adela/AppData/Local/Temp/nshEBBB.tmp/ContainedTemp/xx05.%20PROLIF%C3%89RATION%20DES%20PARTIS%20POLITIQUES%20-%20Aim%C3%A9%20Valant%20Kinzanza%20Nakuhoola(1)-2.docx#_ftn1">[1]</a>. Les données ont été traitées par l’analyse de contenu et statistique. Les résultats montrent l’état d'esprit des Kinois abordés sur la problématique du nombre des partis politiques en RDC. Les Kinois de la Commune de Ngaliema partagent une opinion défavorable, en majorité (58%) à la prolifération continuelle des partis politiques en République Démocratique du Congo. Ils souhaitent la limitation du nombre des partis politiques. Les Kinois, en majorité, proposent la réduction du nombre des partis politiques soit à 10, soit encore de 10 à 100. Les autres proposent des coalitions. Les réactions ne sont pas notablement influencées par le groupe d’appartenance, notamment le genre, l’âge et le niveau d’instruction de nos enquêtés, en dépit de quelques variations non significatives décelées à partir des techniques utilisées. L’étude fournit quelques recommandations au pouvoir organisateur afin d’assainir l’environnement politique national de la RDC.</p><div><br clear="all" /><hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" /><div><p>Ngaliema est l’une des plus grandes communes parmi les 24 que compte la Ville Province de Kinshasa, la Capitale de la RDC dont les habitants sont appelés Kinois. Créée le 12 octobre 1957 par l’arrêté n. 21 /429 du Gouverneur de Léopoldville, elle a une superficie de 224,30 Km², comprenant 21 quartiers et 198 localités. Située à l’Ouest de la Capitale, la Commune de Ngaliema abrite le Site Mont Ngaliema, siège de la Cité de l’Unité Africaine, du Musée National et de la résidence officielle du Président de la République, depuis Mobutu ainsi que du Département de la Défense Nationale. Elle tient son nom du Chef Ngaliema qui a signé le traité de fraternité avec Henry Morton Stanley en 1881. Cette entité politico-administrative regorge des quartiers les plus chics de la Capitale, à l’instar de Joli Parc, Basoko, Ndjelo Binza… habités par les hautes personnalités ainsi que d’autres célébrités du pays, elle longe aussi le Fleuve Congo en face de quartiers sud de la Ville voisine de Brazzaville.</p><p>In the Democratic Republic of Congo, it has been noted since the 90s, the proliferation of political parties. This multiplication of political formations worries the people who do not see their impact in the improvement of their socio-economic life. The study analysed the opinions of the Kinois of the Commune of Ngaliema on this phenomenon. On this, a survey was conducted in an occasional sample of 221 inhabitants of 12 neighborhoods of the Commune of Ngaliema in Kinshasa. The data were processed by content and statistical analysis. The results show the state of mind of the Kinois addressed on the issue of the number of political parties in the DRC. The Kinois of the Commune of Ngaliema share an unfavorable opinion, in majority (58%) to the continuous proliferation of political parties in the Democratic Republic of Congo. They want the number of political parties to be limited. The majority of Kinois propose reducing the number of political parties either to 10 or from 10 to 100. The others propose coalitions. Reactions are not significantly influenced by the group of belonging, including the gender, age and level of education of our respondents, despite some non-significant variations detected from the techniques used. The study provides some recommendations to the organizing authority in order to clean up the national political environment of the DRC. <strong></strong></p></div></div><p> </p><p><strong> Article visualizations:</strong></p><p><img src="/-counters-/edu_01/0333/a.php" alt="Hit counter" /></p>

Ditadura e Democracia: o impacto da conciliação sobre as memórias e a constituição da Justiça de Transição no Brasil Dictatorship and Democracy: the impact of conciliation on the memories and constitution of Transitional Justice in BrazilAlexandre Garcia Araújo* José Alves Dias** REFERÊNCIA ARAÚJO, Alexandre Garcia; DIAS, José Alves. Ditadura e Democracia: o impacto da conciliação sobre as memórias e a constituição da Justiça de Transição no Brasil. Revista da Faculdade de Direito da UFRGS, Porto Alegre, n. 38, p. 121-139, ago. 2018. RESUMOABSTRACTO propósito do artigo é demonstrar como o mecanismo da conciliação foi utilizado para superar a ditadura e retornar à democracia, impactando as memórias construídas sobre o período autoritário, e limitando a conformação de uma Justiça de Transição no Brasil. Os debates em torno do tema se acentuaram, sobremaneira, com a formação da Comissão Especial de Mortos e Desaparecidos Políticos, em 1995, a proposição de revisão da Lei de Anistia, em 2010, e a instituição da Comissão Nacional da Verdade (CNV), em 2011. Neste processo, as vítimas e familiares dos atingidos, e os governos de Fernando Henrique Cardoso, Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva e Dilma Rousseff intentaram, em graus e modos diferentes, promover a investigação e responsabilização pela violação de direitos humanos durante a ditadura militar. No contraponto, permaneceram os participantes do Clube Militar que obliteravam quaisquer iniciativas nesse sentido. Diante da correlação de forças, as memórias registradas, inicialmente contrapostas, foram cedendo lugar a um enquadramento gradativo ao ponto de se tornarem difusas no processo de definição da Justiça de Transição. The purpose of the article is to demonstrate how the conciliation mechanism was used to overcome the dictatorship and to return to democracy, impacting the memories built on the authoritarian period, and limiting the conformation of a Transitional Justice in Brazil. The debates on this theme were especially marked by the formation of the Special Committee on Political Deaths and Disappearances in 1995, the proposal to revise the Amnesty Law in 2010 and the establishment of the National Truth Commission (CNV), in 2011. In this process, the victims and relatives of those affected, and the governments of Fernando Henrique Cardoso, Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva and Dilma Rousseff, tried in different degrees and in different ways to promote investigation and accountability for human rights violations during the dictatorship military. In counterpoint, the active and reserve military (through the Military Clubs) remained that obliterated any initiatives in this direction. Faced with the correlation of forces, the recorded memories, initially counterposed, gradually gave way to a gradual framework to the point of becoming diffuse in the process of defining the Transitional Justice. PALAVRAS-CHAVEKEYWORDSDitadura. Democracia. Memória. Justiça de Transição.Dictatorship. Democracy. Memory. Transitional Justice.* Professor Substituto da Universidade do Estado da Bahia - UNEB: Campus XX, Brumado-BA. Mestre em Memória, Linguagem e Sociedade pela Universidade Estadual do Sudoeste da Bahia. Advogado.** Professor Titular no Departamento de História e professor permanente do Programa de Pós-Graduação em Memória: Linguagem e Sociedade (PPGMLS), da Universidade Estadual do Sudoeste da Bahia.

The Leichhardt Highway is a six hundred-kilometre stretch of sealed inland road that joins the Australian Queensland border town of Goondiwindi with the Capricorn Highway, just south of the Tropic of Capricorn. Named after the young Prussian naturalist Ludwig Leichhardt, part of this roadway follows the route his party took as they crossed northern Australia from Morton Bay (Brisbane) to Port Essington (near Darwin). Ignoring the usual colonial practice of honouring the powerful and aristocratic, Leichhardt named the noteworthy features along this route after his supporters and fellow expeditioners. Many of these names are still in use and a series of public monuments have also been erected in the intervening century and a half to commemorate this journey. Unlike Leichhardt, who survived his epic trip, some contemporary travellers who navigate the remote roadway named in his honour do not arrive at their final destinations. Memorials to these violently interrupted lives line the highway, many enigmatically located in places where there is no obvious explanation for the lethal violence that occurred there. This examination profiles the memorials along Leichhardt’s highway as Gothic practice, in order to illuminate some of the uncanny paradoxes around public memorials, as well as the loaded emotional terrain such commemorative practices may inhabit. All humans know that death awaits them (Morell). Yet, despite this, and the unprecedented torrent of images of death and dying saturating news, television, and social media (Duwe; Sumiala; Bisceglio), Gorer’s mid-century ideas about the denial of death and Becker’s 1973 Pulitzer prize-winning description of the purpose of human civilization as a defence against this knowledge remains current in the contemporary trope that individuals (at least in the West) deny their mortality. Contributing to this enigmatic situation is how many deny the realities of aging and bodily decay—the promise of the “life extension” industries (Hall)—and are shielded from death by hospitals, palliative care providers, and the multimillion dollar funeral industry (Kiernan). Drawing on Piatti-Farnell’s concept of popular culture artefacts as “haunted/haunting” texts, the below describes how memorials to the dead can powerfully reconnect those who experience them with death’s reality, by providing an “encrypted passageway through which the dead re-join the living in a responsive cycle of exchange and experience” (Piatti-Farnell). While certainly very different to the “sublime” iconic Gothic structure, the Gothic ruin that Summers argued could be seen as “a sacred relic, a memorial, a symbol of infinite sadness, of tenderest sensibility and regret” (407), these memorials do function in both this way as melancholy/regret-inducing relics as well as in Piatti-Farnell’s sense of bringing the dead into everyday consciousness. Such memorialising activity also evokes one of Spooner’s features of the Gothic, by acknowledging “the legacies of the past and its burdens on the present” (8).Ludwig Leichhardt and His HighwayWhen Leichhardt returned to Sydney in 1846 from his 18-month journey across northern Australia, he was greeted with surprise and then acclaim. Having mounted his expedition without any backing from influential figures in the colony, his party was presumed lost only weeks after its departure. Yet, once Leichhardt and almost all his expedition returned, he was hailed “Prince of Explorers” (Erdos). When awarding him a significant purse raised by public subscription, then Speaker of the Legislative Council voiced what he believed would be the explorer’s lasting memorial —the public memory of his achievement: “the undying glory of having your name enrolled amongst those of the great men whose genius and enterprise have impelled them to seek for fame in the prosecution of geographical science” (ctd. Leichhardt 539). Despite this acclaim, Leichhardt was a controversial figure in his day; his future prestige not enhanced by his Prussian/Germanic background or his disappearance two years later attempting to cross the continent. What troubled the colonial political class, however, was his transgressive act of naming features along his route after commoners rather than the colony’s aristocrats. Today, the Leichhardt Highway closely follows Leichhardt’s 1844-45 route for some 130 kilometres from Miles, north through Wandoan to Taroom. In the first weeks of his journey, Leichhardt named 16 features in this area: 6 of the more major of these after the men in his party—including the Aboriginal man ‘Charley’ and boy John Murphy—4 more after the tradesmen and other non-aristocratic sponsors of his venture, and the remainder either in memory of the journey’s quotidian events or natural features there found. What we now accept as traditional memorialising practice could in this case be termed as Gothic, in that it upset the rational, normal order of its day, and by honouring humble shopkeepers, blacksmiths and Indigenous individuals, revealed the “disturbance and ambivalence” (Botting 4) that underlay colonial class relations (Macintyre). On 1 December 1844, Leichhardt also memorialised his own past, referencing the Gothic in naming a watercourse The Creek of the Ruined Castles due to the “high sandstone rocks, fissured and broken like pillars and walls and the high gates of the ruined castles of Germany” (57). Leichhardt also disturbed and disfigured the nature he so admired, famously carving his initials deep into trees along his route—a number of which still exist, including the so-called Leichhardt Tree, a large coolibah in Taroom’s main street. Leichhardt also wrote his own memorial, keeping detailed records of his experiences—both good and more regretful—in the form of field books, notebooks and letters, with his major volume about this expedition published in London in 1847. Leichhardt’s journey has since been memorialised in various ways along the route. The Leichhardt Tree has been further defaced with numerous plaques nailed into its ancient bark, and the town’s federal government-funded Bicentennial project raised a formal memorial—a large sandstone slab laid with three bronze plaques—in the newly-named Ludwig Leichhardt Park. Leichhardt’s name also adorns many sites both along, and outside, the routes of his expeditions. While these fittingly include natural features such as the Leichhardt River in north-west Queensland (named in 1856 by Augustus Gregory who crossed it by searching for traces of the explorer’s ill-fated 1848 expedition), there are also many businesses across Queensland and the Northern Territory less appropriately carrying his name. More somber monuments to Leichhardt’s legacy also resulted from this journey. The first of these was the white settlement that followed his declaration that the countryside he moved through was well endowed with fertile soils. With squatters and settlers moving in and land taken up before Leichhardt had even arrived back in Sydney, the local Yeeman people were displaced, mistreated and completely eradicated within a decade (Elder). Mid-twentieth century, Patrick White’s literary reincarnation, Voss of the eponymous novel, and paintings by Sidney Nolan and Albert Tucker have enshrined in popular memory not only the difficult (and often described as Gothic) nature of the landscape through which Leichhardt travelled (Adams; Mollinson, and Bonham), but also the distinctive and contrary blend of intelligence, spiritual mysticism, recklessness, and stoicism Leichhardt brought to his task. Roadside Memorials Today, the Leichhardt Highway is also lined with a series of roadside shrines to those who have died much more recently. While, like centotaphs, tombstones, and cemeteries, these memorialise the dead, they differ in usually marking the exact location that death occurred. In 43 BC, Cicero articulated the idea of the dead living in memory, “The life of the dead consists in the recollection cherished of them by the living” (93), yet Nelson is one of very few contemporary writers to link roadside memorials to elements of Gothic sensibility. Such constructions can, however, be described as Gothic, in that they make the roadway unfamiliar by inscribing onto it the memory of corporeal trauma and, in the process, re-creating their locations as vivid sites of pain and suffering. These are also enigmatic sites. Traffic levels are generally low along the flat or gently undulating terrain and many of these memorials are located in locations where there is no obvious explanation for the violence that occurred there. They are loci of contradictions, in that they are both more private than other memorials, in being designed, and often made and erected, by family and friends of the deceased, and yet more public, visible to all who pass by (Campbell). Cemeteries are set apart from their surroundings; the roadside memorial is, in contrast, usually in open view along a thoroughfare. In further contrast to cemeteries, which contain many relatively standardised gravesites, individual roadside memorials encapsulate and express not only the vivid grief of family and friends but also—when they include vehicle wreckage or personal artefacts from the fatal incident—provide concrete evidence of the trauma that occurred. While the majority of individuals interned in cemeteries are long dead, roadside memorials mark relatively contemporary deaths, some so recent that there may still be tyre marks, debris and bloodstains marking the scene. In 2008, when I was regularly travelling this roadway, I documented, and researched, the six then extant memorial sites that marked the locations of ten fatalities from 1999 to 2006. (These were all still in place in mid-2014.) The fatal incidents are very diverse. While half involved trucks and/or road trains, at least three were single vehicle incidents, and the deceased ranged from 13 to 84 years of age. Excell argues that scholarship on roadside memorials should focus on “addressing the diversity of the material culture” (‘Contemporary Deathscapes’) and, in these terms, the Leichhardt Highway memorials vary from simple crosses to complex installations. All include crosses (mostly, but not exclusively, white), and almost all are inscribed with the name and birth/death dates of the deceased. Most include flowers or other plants (sometimes fresh but more often plastic), but sometimes also a range of relics from the crash and/or personal artefacts. These are, thus, unsettling sights, not least in the striking contrast they provide with the highway and surrounding road reserve. The specific location is a key component of their ability to re-sensitise viewers to the dangers of the route they are travelling. The first memorial travelling northwards, for instance, is situated at the very point at which the highway begins, some 18 kilometres from Goondiwindi. Two small white crosses decorated with plastic flowers are set poignantly close together. The inscriptions can also function as a means of mobilising connection with these dead strangers—a way of building Secomb’s “haunted community”, whereby community in the post-colonial age can only be built once past “murderous death” (131) is acknowledged. This memorial is inscribed with “Cec Hann 06 / A Good Bloke / A Good hoarseman [sic]” and “Pat Hann / A Good Woman” to tragically commemorate the deaths of an 84-year-old man and his 79-year-old wife from South Australia who died in the early afternoon of 5 June 2006 when their Ford Falcon, towing a caravan, pulled onto the highway and was hit by a prime mover pulling two trailers (Queensland Police, ‘Double Fatality’; Jones, and McColl). Further north along the highway are two memorials marking the most inexplicable of road deaths: the single vehicle fatality (Connolly, Cullen, and McTigue). Darren Ammenhauser, aged 29, is remembered with a single white cross with flowers and plaque attached to a post, inscribed hopefully, “Darren Ammenhauser 1971-2000 At Rest.” Further again, at Billa Billa Creek, a beautifully crafted metal cross attached to a fence is inscribed with the text, “Kenneth J. Forrester / RIP Jack / 21.10.25 – 27.4.05” marking the death of the 79-year-old driver whose vehicle veered off the highway to collide with a culvert on the creek. It was reported that the vehicle rolled over several times before coming to rest on its wheels and that Forrester was dead when the police arrived (Queensland Police, ‘Fatal Traffic Incident’). More complex memorials recollect both single and multiple deaths. One, set on both sides of the road, maps the physical trajectory of the fatal smash. This memorial comprises white crosses on both sides of road, attached to a tree on one side, and a number of ancillary sites including damaged tyres with crosses placed inside them on both sides of the road. Simple inscriptions relay the inability of such words to express real grief: “Gary (Gazza) Stevens / Sadly missed” and “Gary (Gazza) Stevens / Sadly missed / Forever in our hearts.” The oldest and most complex memorial on the route, commemorating the death of four individuals on 18 June 1999, is also situated on both sides of the road, marking the collision of two vehicles travelling in opposite directions. One memorial to a 62-year-old man comprises a cross with flowers, personal and automotive relics, and a plaque set inside a wooden fence and simply inscribed “John Henry Keenan / 23-11-1936–18-06-1999”. The second memorial contains three white crosses set side-by-side, together with flowers and relics, and reveals that members of three generations of the same family died at this location: “Raymond Campbell ‘Butch’ / 26-3-67–18-6-99” (32 years of age), “Lorraine Margaret Campbell ‘Lloydie’ / 29-11-46–18-6-99” (53 years), and “Raymond Jon Campbell RJ / 28-1-86–18-6-99” (13 years). The final memorial on this stretch of highway is dedicated to Jason John Zupp of Toowoomba who died two weeks before Christmas 2005. This consists of a white cross, decorated with flowers and inscribed: “Jason John Zupp / Loved & missed by all”—a phrase echoed in his newspaper obituary. The police media statement noted that, “at 11.24pm a prime mover carrying four empty trailers [stacked two high] has rolled on the Leichhardt Highway 17km north of Taroom” (Queensland Police, ‘Fatal Truck Accident’). The roadside memorial was placed alongside a ditch on a straight stretch of road where the body was found. The coroner’s report adds the following chilling information: “Mr Zupp was thrown out of the cabin and his body was found near the cabin. There is no evidence whatsoever that he had applied the brakes or in any way tried to prevent the crash … Jason was not wearing his seatbelt” (Cornack 5, 6). Cornack also remarked the truck was over length, the brakes had not been properly adjusted, and the trip that Zupp had undertaken could not been lawfully completed according to fatigue management regulations then in place (8). Although poignant and highly visible due to these memorials, these deaths form a small part of Australia’s road toll, and underscore our ambivalent relationship with the automobile, where road death is accepted as a necessary side-effect of the freedom of movement the technology offers (Ladd). These memorials thus animate highways as Gothic landscapes due to the “multifaceted” (Haider 56) nature of the fear, terror and horror their acknowledgement can bring. Since 1981, there have been, for instance, between some 1,600 and 3,300 road deaths each year in Australia and, while there is evidence of a long term downward trend, the number of deaths per annum has not changed markedly since 1991 (DITRDLG 1, 2), and has risen in some years since then. The U.S.A. marked its millionth road death in 1951 (Ladd) along the way to over 3,000,000 during the 20th century (Advocates). These deaths are far reaching, with U.K. research suggesting that each death there leaves an average of 6 people significantly affected, and that there are some 10 to 20 per cent of mourners who experience more complicated grief and longer term negative affects during this difficult time (‘Pathways Through Grief’). As the placing of roadside memorials has become a common occurrence the world over (Klaassens, Groote, and Vanclay; Grider; Cohen), these are now considered, in MacConville’s opinion, not only “an appropriate, but also an expected response to tragedy”. Hockey and Draper have explored the therapeutic value of the maintenance of “‘continuing bonds’ between the living and the dead” (3). This is, however, only one explanation for the reasons that individuals erect roadside memorials with research suggesting roadside memorials perform two main purposes in their linking of the past with the present—as not only sites of grieving and remembrance, but also of warning (Hartig, and Dunn; Everett; Excell, Roadside Memorials; MacConville). Clark adds that by “localis[ing] and personalis[ing] the road dead,” roadside memorials raise the profile of road trauma by connecting the emotionless statistics of road death directly to individual tragedy. They, thus, transform the highway into not only into a site of past horror, but one in which pain and terror could still happen, and happen at any moment. Despite their increasing commonality and their recognition as cultural artefacts, these memorials thus occupy “an uncomfortable place” both in terms of public policy and for some individuals (Lowe). While in some states of the U.S.A. and in Ireland the erection of such memorials is facilitated by local authorities as components of road safety campaigns, in the U.K. there appears to be “a growing official opposition to the erection of memorials” (MacConville). Criticism has focused on the dangers (of distraction and obstruction) these structures pose to passing traffic and pedestrians, while others protest their erection on aesthetic grounds and even claim memorials can lower property values (Everett). While many ascertain a sense of hope and purpose in the physical act of creating such shrines (see, for instance, Grider; Davies), they form an uncanny presence along the highway and can provide dangerous psychological territory for the viewer (Brien). Alongside the townships, tourist sites, motels, and petrol stations vying to attract customers, they stain the roadway with the unmistakable sign that a violent death has happened—bringing death, and the dead, to the fore as a component of these journeys, and destabilising prominent cultural narratives of technological progress and safety (Richter, Barach, Ben-Michael, and Berman).Conclusion This investigation has followed Goddu who proposes that a Gothic text “registers its culture’s contradictions” (3) and, in profiling these memorials as “intimately connected to the culture that produces them” (Goddu 3) has proposed memorials as Gothic artefacts that can both disturb and reveal. Roadside memorials are, indeed, so loaded with emotional content that their close contemplation can be traumatising (Brien), yet they are inescapable while navigating the roadway. Part of their power resides in their ability to re-animate those persons killed in these violent in the minds of those viewing these memorials. In this way, these individuals are reincarnated as ghostly presences along the highway, forming channels via which the traveller can not only make human contact with the dead, but also come to recognise and ponder their own sense of mortality. While roadside memorials are thus like civic war memorials in bringing untimely death to the forefront of public view, roadside memorials provide a much more raw expression of the chaotic, anarchic and traumatic moment that separates the world of the living from that of the dead. While traditional memorials—such as those dedicated by, and to, Leichhardt—moreover, pay homage to the vitality of the lives of those they commemorate, roadside memorials not only acknowledge the alarming circumstances of unexpected death but also stand testament to the power of the paradox of the incontrovertibility of sudden death versus our lack of ability to postpone it. In this way, further research into these and other examples of Gothic memorialising practice has much to offer various areas of cultural study in Australia.ReferencesAdams, Brian. Sidney Nolan: Such Is Life. Hawthorn, Vic.: Hutchinson, 1987. Advocates for Highway and Auto Safety. “Motor Vehicle Traffic Fatalities & Fatality Rate: 1899-2003.” 2004. Becker, Ernest. The Denial of Death. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1973. Bisceglio, Paul. “How Social Media Is Changing the Way We Approach Death.” The Atlantic 20 Aug. 2013. Botting, Fred. Gothic: The New Critical Idiom. 2nd edition. Abingdon, UK: Routledge, 2014. 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Sydney: New Holland, 1998. Erdos, Renee. “Leichhardt, Friedrich Wilhelm Ludwig (1813-1848).” Australian Dictionary of Biography Online Edition. Melbourne: Melbourne UP, 1967. Everett, Holly. Roadside Crosses in Contemporary Memorial Culture. Austin: Texas UP, 2002. Excell, Gerri. “Roadside Memorials in the UK.” Unpublished MA thesis. Reading: University of Reading, 2004. ———. “Contemporary Deathscapes: A Comparative Analysis of the Material Culture of Roadside Memorials in the US, Australia and the UK.” 7th International Conference on the Social Context of Death, Dying and Disposal. Bath, UK: University of Bath, 2005. Goddu, Teresa A. Gothic America: Narrative, History, and Nation. New York: Columbia UP, 2007. Gorer, Geoffrey. “The Pornography of Death.” Encounter V.4 (1955): 49–52. Grider, Sylvia. “Spontaneous Shrines: A Modern Response to Tragedy and Disaster.” New Directions in Folklore (5 Oct. 2001). 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Vanclay. “Expressions of Private Mourning in Public Space: The Evolving Structure of Spontaneous and Permanent Roadside Memorials in the Netherlands.” Death Studies 37.2 (2013): 145–171. Ladd, Brian. Autophobia: Love and Hate in the Automotive Age. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 2008. Leichhardt, Ludwig. Journal of an Overland Expedition of Australia from Moreton Bay to Port Essington, A Distance of Upwards of 3000 Miles during the Years 1844–1845. London, T & W Boone, 1847. Facsimile ed. Sydney: Macarthur Press, n.d. Lowe, Tim. “Roadside Memorials in South Eastern Australia.” 7th International Conference on the Social Context of Death, Dying and Disposal. Bath, UK: University of Bath, 2005. MacConville, Una. “Roadside Memorials.” Bath, UK: Centre for Death & Society, Department of Social and Policy Sciences, University of Bath, 2007. Macintyre, Stuart. “The Making of the Australian Working Class: An Historiographical Survey.” Historical Studies 18.71 (1978): 233–253. Mollinson, James, and Nicholas Bonham. Tucker. South Melbourne: Macmillan Company of Australia, and Australian National Gallery, 1982. Morell, Virginia. “Mournful Creatures.” Lapham’s Quarterly 6.4 (2013): 200–208. Nelson, Victoria. Gothicka: Vampire Heroes, Human Gods, and the New Supernatural. Harvard University: Harvard UP, 2012. “Pathways through Grief.” 1st National Conference on Bereavement in a Healthcare Setting. Dundee, 1–2 Sep. 2008. Piatti-Farnell, Lorna. “Words from the Culinary Crypt: Reading the Recipe as a Haunted/Haunting Text.” M/C Journal 16.3 (2013). Queensland Police. “Fatal Traffic Incident, Goondiwindi [Media Advisory].” 27 Apr. 2005. ———. “Fatal Truck Accident, Taroom.” Media release. 11 Dec. 2005. ———. “Double Fatality, Goondiwindi.” Media release. 5 Jun. 2006. Richter, E. D., P. Barach, E. Ben-Michael, and T. Berman. “Death and Injury from Motor Vehicle Crashes: A Public Health Failure, Not an Achievement.” Injury Prevention 7 (2001): 176–178. 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“As the old technologies become automatic and invisible, we find ourselves more concerned with fighting or embracing what’s new”—Dennis Baron, From Pencils to Pixels: The Stage of Literacy Technologies Popular music is firmly rooted within realist practice, or what has been called the "culture of authenticity" associated with modernism. As Lawrence Grossberg notes, the accelleration of the rate of change in modern life caused, in post-war youth culture, an identity crisis or "lived contradiction" that gave rock (particularly) and popular music (generally) a peculiar position in regard to notions of authenticity. Grossberg places rock's authenticity within the "difference" it maintains from other cultural forms, and notes that its difference "can be justified aesthetically or ideologically, or in terms of the social position of the audiences, or by the economics of its production, or through the measure of its popularity or the statement of its politics" (205-6). Popular music scholars have not adequately addressed issues of authenticity and individuality. Two of the most important questions to be asked are: How is authenticity communicated in popular music? What is the site of the interpretation of authenticity? It is important to ask about sound, technology, about the attempt to understand the ideal and the image, the natural and artificial. It is these that make clear the strongest connections between popular music and contemporary culture. Popular music is a particularly appropriate site for the study of authenticity as a cultural category, for several reasons. For one thing, other media do not follow us, as aural media do, into malls, elevators, cars, planes. Nor do they wait for us, as a tape player paused and ready to play. What is important is not that music is "everywhere" but, to borrow from Vivian Sobchack, that it creates a "here" that can be transported anywhere. In fact, we are able to walk around enveloped by a personal aural environment, thanks to a Sony Walkman.1 Also, it is more difficult to shut out the aural than the visual. Closing one's ears does not entirely shut out sound. There is, additionally, the sense that sound and music are interpreted from within, that is, that they resonate through and within the body, and as such engage with one's self in a fashion that coincides with Charles Taylor's claim that the "ideal of authenticity" is an inner-directed one. It must be noted that authenticity is not, however, communicated only via music, but via text and image. Grossberg noted the "primacy of sound" in rock music, and the important link between music, visual image, and authenticity: Visual style as conceived in rock culture is usually the stage for an outrageous and self-conscious inauthenticity... . It was here -- in its visual presentation -- that rock often most explicitly manifested both an ironic resistance to the dominant culture and its sympathies with the business of entertainment ... . The demand for live performance has always expressed the desire for the visual mark (and proof) of authenticity. (208) But that relationship can also be reversed: Music and sound serve in some instances to provide the aural mark and proof of authenticity. Consider, for instance, the "tear" in the voice that Jensen identifies in Hank Williams's singing, and in that of Patsy Cline. For the latter, voicing, in this sense, was particularly important, as it meant more than a singing style, it also involved matters of self-identity, as Jensen appropriately associates with the move of country music from "hometown" to "uptown" (101). Cline's move toward a more "uptown" style involved her visual image, too. At a significant turning point in her career, Faron Young noted, Cline "left that country girl look in those western outfits behind and opted for a slicker appearance in dresses and high fashion gowns" (Jensen 101). Popular music has forged a link with visual media, and in some sense music itself has become more visual (though not necessarily less aural) the more it has engaged with industrial processes in the entertainment industry. For example, engagement with music videos and film soundtracks has made music a part of the larger convergence of mass media forms. Alongside that convergence, the use of music in visual media has come to serve as adjunct to visual symbolisation. One only need observe the increasingly commercial uses to which music is put (as in advertising, film soundtracks and music videos) to note ways in which music serves image. In the literature from a variety of disciplines, including communication, art and music, it has been argued that music videos are the visualisation of music. But in many respects the opposite is true. Music videos are the auralisation of the visual. Music serves many of the same purposes as sound does generally in visual media. One can find a strong argument for the use of sound as supplement to visual media in Silverman's and Altman's work. For Silverman, sound in cinema has largely been overlooked (pun intended) in favor of the visual image, but sound is a more effective (and perhaps necessary) element for willful suspension of disbelief. One may see this as well in the development of Dolby Surround Sound, and in increased emphasis on sound engineering among video and computer game makers, as well as the development of sub-woofers and high-fidelity speakers as computer peripherals. Another way that sound has become more closely associated with the visual is through the ongoing evolution of marketing demands within the popular music industry that increasingly rely on visual media and force image to the front. Internet technologies, particularly the WorldWideWeb (WWW), are also evidence of a merging of the visual and aural (see Hayward). The development of low-cost desktop video equipment and WWW publishing, CD-i, CD-ROM, DVD, and other technologies, has meant that visual images continue to form part of the industrial routine of the music business. The decrease in cost of many of these technologies has also led to the adoption of such routines among individual musicians, small/independent labels, and producers seeking to mimic the resources of major labels (a practice that has become considerably easier via the Internet, as it is difficult to determine capital resources solely from a WWW site). Yet there is another facet to the evolution of the link between the aural and visual. Sound has become more visual by way of its representation during its production (a representation, and process, that has largely been ignored in popular music studies). That representation has to do with the digitisation of sound, and the subsequent transformation sound and music can undergo after being digitised and portrayed on a computer screen. Once digitised, sound can be made visual in any number of ways, through traditional methods like music notation, through representation as audio waveform, by way of MIDI notation, bit streams, or through representation as shapes and colors (as in recent software applications particularly for children, like Making Music by Morton Subotnick). The impetus for these representations comes from the desire for increased control over sound (see Jones, Rock Formation) and such control seems most easily accomplished by way of computers and their concomitant visual technologies (monitors, printers). To make computers useful tools for sound recording it is necessary to employ some form of visual representation for the aural, and the flexibility of modern computers allows for new modes of predominately visual representation. Each of these connections between the aural and visual is in turn related to technology, for as audio technology develops within the entertainment industry it makes sense for synergistic development to occur with visual media technologies. Yet popular music scholars routinely analyse aural and visual media in isolation from one another. The challenge for popular music studies and music philosophy posed by visual media technologies, that they must attend to spatiality and context (both visual and aural), has not been taken up. Until such time as it is, it will be difficult, if not impossible, to engage issues of authenticity, because they will remain rootless instead of situated within the experience of music as fully sensual (in some cases even synaesthetic). Most of the traditional judgments of authenticity among music critics and many popular music scholars involve space and time, the former in terms of the movement of music across cultures and the latter in terms of history. None rely on notions of the "situatedness" of the listener or musicmaker in a particular aural, visual and historical space. Part of the reason for the lack of such an understanding arises from the very means by which popular music is created. We have become accustomed to understanding music as manipulation of sound, and so far as most modern music production is concerned such manipulation occurs as much visually as aurally, by cutting, pasting and otherwise altering audio waveforms on a computer screen. Musicians no more record music than they record fingering; they engage in sound recording. And recording engineers and producers rely less and less on sound and more on sight to determine whether a recording conforms to the demands of digital reproduction.2 Sound, particularly when joined with the visual, becomes a means to build and manipulate the environment, virtual and non-virtual (see Jones, "Sound"). Sound & Music As we construct space through sound, both in terms of audio production (e.g., the use of reverberation devices in recording studios) and in terms of everyday life (e.g., perception of aural stimuli, whether by ear or vibration in the body, from points surrounding us), we centre it within experience. Sound combines the psychological and physiological. Audio engineer George Massenburg noted that in film theaters: You couldn't utilise the full 360-degree sound space for music because there was an "exit sign" phenomena [sic]. If you had a lot of audio going on in the back, people would have a natural inclination to turn around and stare at the back of the room. (Massenburg 79-80) However, he went on to say, beyond observations of such reactions to multichannel sound technology, "we don't know very much". Research in psychoacoustics being used to develop virtual audio systems relies on such reactions and on a notion of human hardwiring for stimulus response (see Jones, "Sense"). But a major stumbling block toward the development of those systems is that none are able to account for individual listeners' perceptions. It is therefore important to consider the individual along with the social dimension in discussions of sound and music. For instance, the term "sound" is deployed in popular music to signify several things, all of which have to do with music or musical performance, but none of which is music. So, for instance, musical groups or performers can have a "sound", but it is distinguishable from what notes they play. Entire music scenes can have "sounds", but the music within such scenes is clearly distinct and differentiated. For the study of popular music this is a significant but often overlooked dimension. As Grossberg argues, "the authenticity of rock was measured by its sound" (207). Visually, he says, popular music is suspect and often inauthentic (sometimes purposefully so), and it is grounded in the aural. Similarly in country music Jensen notes that the "Nashville Sound" continually evoked conflicting definitions among fans and musicians, but that: The music itself was the arena in and through which claims about the Nashville Sound's authenticity were played out. A certain sound (steel guitar, with fiddle) was deemed "hard" or "pure" country, in spite of its own commercial history. (84) One should, therefore, attend to the interpretive acts associated with sound and its meaning. But why has not popular music studies engaged in systematic analysis of sound at the level of the individual as well as the social? As John Shepherd put it, "little cultural theoretical work in music is concerned with music's sounds" ("Value" 174). Why should this be a cause for concern? First, because Shepherd claims that sound is not "meaningful" in the traditional sense. Second, because it leads us to re-examine the question long set to the side in popular music studies: What is music? The structural homology, the connection between meaning and social formation, is a foundation upon which the concept of authenticity in popular music stands. Yet the ability to label a particular piece of music "good" shifts from moment to moment, and place to place. Frith understates the problem when he writes that "it is difficult ... to say how musical texts mean or represent something, and it is difficult to isolate structures of musical creation or control" (56). Shepherd attempts to overcome this difficulty by emphasising that: Music is a social medium in sound. What [this] means ... is that the sounds of music provide constantly moving and complex matrices of sounds in which individuals may invest their own meanings ... [however] while the matrices of sounds which seemingly constitute an individual "piece" of music can accommodate a range of meanings, and thereby allow for negotiability of meaning, they cannot accommodate all possible meanings. (Shepherd, "Art") It must be acknowledged that authenticity is constructed, and that in itself is an argument against the most common way to think of authenticity. If authenticity implies something about the "pure" state of an object or symbol then surely such a state is connected to some "objective" rendering, one not possible according to Shepherd's claims. In some sense, then, authenticity is autonomous, its materialisation springs not from any necessary connection to sound, image, text, but from individual acts of interpretation, typically within what in literary criticism has come to be known as "interpretive communities". It is not hard to illustrate the point by generalising and observing that rock's notion of authenticity is captured in terms of songwriting, but that songwriters are typically identified with places (e.g. Tin Pan Alley, the Brill Building, Liverpool, etc.). In this way there is an obvious connection between authenticity and authorship (see Jones, "Popular Music Studies") and geography (as well in terms of musical "scenes", e.g. the "Philly Sound", the "Sun Sound", etc.). The important thing to note is the resultant connection between the symbolic and the physical worlds rooted (pun intended) in geography. As Redhead & Street put it: The idea of "roots" refers to a number of aspects of the musical process. There is the audience in which the musician's career is rooted ... . Another notion of roots refers to music. Here the idea is that the sounds and the style of the music should continue to resemble the source from which it sprang ... . The issue ... can be detected in the argument of those who raise doubts about the use of musical high-technology by African artists. A final version of roots applies to the artist's sociological origins. (180) It is important, consequently, to note that new technologies, particularly ones associated with the distribution of music, are of increasing importance in regulating the tension between alienation and progress mentioned earlier, as they are technologies not simply of musical production and consumption, but of geography. That the tension they mediate is most readily apparent in legal skirmishes during an unsettled era for copyright law (see Brown) should not distract scholars from understanding their cultural significance. These technologies are, on the one hand, "liberating" (see Hayward, Young, and Marsh) insofar as they permit greater geographical "reach" and thus greater marketing opportunities (see Fromartz), but on the other hand they permit less commercial control, insofar as they permit digitised music to freely circulate without restriction or compensation, to the chagrin of copyright enthusiasts. They also create opportunities for musical collaboration (see Hayward) between performers in different zones of time and space, on a scale unmatched since the development of multitracking enabled the layering of sound. Most importantly, these technologies open spaces for the construction of authenticity that have hitherto been unavailable, particularly across distances that have largely separated cultures and fan communities (see Paul). The technologies of Internetworking provide yet another way to make connections between authenticity, music and sound. Community and locality (as Redhead & Street, as well as others like Sara Cohen and Ruth Finnegan, note) are the elements used by audience and artist alike to understand the authenticity of a performer or performance. The lived experience of an artist, in a particular nexus of time and space, is to be somehow communicated via music and interpreted "properly" by an audience. But technologies of Internetworking permit the construction of alternative spaces, times and identities. In no small way that has also been the situation with the mediation of music via most recordings. They are constructed with a sense of space, consumed within particular spaces, at particular times, in individual, most often private, settings. What the network technologies have wrought is a networked audience for music that is linked globally but rooted in the local. To put it another way, the range of possibilities when it comes to interpretive communities has widened, but the experience of music has not significantly shifted, that is, the listener experiences music individually, and locally. Musical activity, whether it is defined as cultural or commercial practice, is neither flat nor autonomous. It is marked by ever-changing tastes (hence not flat) but within an interpretive structure (via "interpretive communities"). Musical activity must be understood within the nexus of the complex relations between technical, commercial and cultural processes. As Jensen put it in her analysis of Patsy Cline's career: Those who write about culture production can treat it as a mechanical process, a strategic construction of material within technical or institutional systems, logical, rational, and calculated. But Patsy Cline's recording career shows, among other things, how this commodity production view must be linked to an understanding of culture as meaning something -- as defining, connecting, expressing, mattering to those who participate with it. (101) To achieve that type of understanding will require that popular music scholars understand authenticity and music in a symbolic realm. Rather than conceiving of authenticity as a limited resource (that is, there is only so much that is "pure" that can go around), it is important to foreground its symbolic and ever-changing character. Put another way, authenticity is not used by musician or audience simply to label something as such, but rather to mean something about music that matters at that moment. Authenticity therefore does not somehow "slip away", nor does a "pure" authentic exist. Authenticity in this regard is, as Baudrillard explains concerning mechanical reproduction, "conceived according to (its) very reproducibility ... there are models from which all forms proceed according to modulated differences" (56). Popular music scholars must carefully assess the affective dimensions of fans, musicians, and also record company executives, recording producers, and so on, to be sensitive to the deeply rooted construction of authenticity and authentic experience throughout musical processes. Only then will there emerge an understanding of the structures of feeling that are central to the experience of music. Footnotes For analyses of the Walkman's role in social settings and popular music consumption see du Gay; Hosokawa; and Chen. It has been thus since the advent of disc recording, when engineers would watch a record's grooves through a microscope lens as it was being cut to ensure grooves would not cross over one into another. References Altman, Rick. "Television/Sound." Studies in Entertainment. Ed. Tania Modleski. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1986. 39-54. Baudrillard, Jean. Symbolic Death and Exchange. London: Sage, 1993. Brown, Ronald. Intellectual Property and the National Information Infrastructure: The Report of the Working Group on Intellectual Property Rights. Washington, DC: U.S. Department of Commerce, 1995. Chen, Shing-Ling. "Electronic Narcissism: College Students' Experiences of Walkman Listening." Annual meeting of the International Communication Association. Washington, D.C. 1993. Du Gay, Paul, et al. Doing Cultural Studies. London: Sage, 1997. Frith, Simon. Sound Effects. New York: Pantheon, 1981. Fromartz, Steven. "Starts-ups Sell Garage Bands, Bowie on Web." Reuters newswire, 4 Dec. 1996. Grossberg, Lawrence. We Gotta Get Out of This Place. London: Routledge, 1992. Hayward, Philip. "Enterprise on the New Frontier." Convergence 1.2 (Winter 1995): 29-44. Hosokawa, Shuhei. "The Walkman Effect." Popular Music 4 (1984). Jensen, Joli. The Nashville Sound: Authenticity, Commercialisation and Country Music. Nashville, Vanderbilt UP, 1998. Jones, Steve. Rock Formation: Music, Technology and Mass Communication. Newbury Park, CA: Sage, 1992. ---. "Popular Music Studies and Critical Legal Studies" Stanford Humanities Review 3.2 (Fall 1993): 77-90. ---. "A Sense of Space: Virtual Reality, Authenticity and the Aural." Critical Studies in Mass Communication 10.3 (Sep. 1993), 238-52. ---. "Sound, Space & Digitisation." Media Information Australia 67 (Feb. 1993): 83-91. Marrsh, Brian. "Musicians Adopt Technology to Market Their Skills." Wall Street Journal 14 Oct. 1994: C2. Massenburg, George. "Recording the Future." EQ (Apr. 1997): 79-80. Paul, Frank. "R&B: Soul Music Fans Make Cyberspace Their Meeting Place." Reuters newswire, 11 July 1996. Redhead, Steve, and John Street. "Have I the Right? Legitimacy, Authenticity and Community in Folk's Politics." Popular Music 8.2 (1989). Shepherd, John. "Art, Culture and Interdisciplinarity." Davidson Dunston Research Lecture. Carleton University, Canada. 3 May 1992. ---. "Value and Power in Music." The Sound of Music: Meaning and Power in Culture. Eds. John Shepherd and Peter Wicke. Cambridge: Polity, 1993. Silverman, Kaja. The Acoustic Mirror. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1988. Sobchack, Vivian. Screening Space. New York: Ungar, 1982. Young, Charles. "Aussie Artists Use Internet and Bootleg CDs to Protect Rights." Pro Sound News July 1995. Citation reference for this article MLA style: Steve Jones. "Seeing Sound, Hearing Image: 'Remixing' Authenticity in Popular Music Studies." M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 2.4 (1999). [your date of access] <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9906/remix.php>. Chicago style: Steve Jones, "Seeing Sound, Hearing Image: 'Remixing' Authenticity in Popular Music Studies," M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 2, no. 4 (1999), <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9906/remix.php> ([your date of access]). APA style: Steve Jones. (1999) Seeing Sound, Hearing Image: "Remixing" Authenticity in Popular Music Studies. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 2(4). <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9906/remix.php> ([your date of access]).

Introduction Ngarrindjeri futures depend on the survival of the land, waters, and other interconnected living things. The Murray-Darling Basin is recognised nationally and internationally as a system under stress. Ngarrindjeri have long understood the profound and intricate connection of land, water, humans, and non-humans (Trevorrow and Hemming). In an effort to secure environmental sustainability the Ngarrindjeri Regional Authority (NRA) have engaged in political negotiations with the State, primarily with the Department of Environment and Natural Resources (DENR), to transform natural resource management arrangements that engage with an ethics of justice, redistribution, and recognition (Hattam, Rigney and Hemming). In 1987, prior to the formation of the NRA, Camp Coorong: Race Relations and Cultural Education Centre was established by the Ngarrindjeri Lands and Progress Association in partnership with the South Australian Museum and the South Australian Education Department (Hemming) as a place for all citizens to engage with the values of a land ethic of care. The complex includes a cultural museum, accommodation, conference facilities, and workshop facilities for primary, secondary, and tertiary education students; it also serves as a base for research and course development on Indigenous and Ngarrindjeri culture and history (Hattam, Rigney and Hemming). Camp Coorong seeks to share Ngarrindjeri cultural values, knowledges, and histories with students and visitors in order to “improve relations between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people with a broader strategy aimed at securing a future for themselves in their own ‘Country’” (Hemming 37). The Centre is adjacent to the Coorong National Park and 200 km South-East of Adelaide. The establishment of Camp Coorong on Ngarrindjeri Ruwe/Ruwar (land/body/spirit) occurred when Ngarrindjeri Elders negotiated with the Department of Education and Children’s Services (DECS) to establish the race relations and cultural education centre. This negotiation was the beginning of many subsequent negotiations between Ngarrindjeri, local, State, and Federal governments about reclaiming ownership, management, and control of Ngarrindjeri lands, waters, and knowledge systems for a healthy Country and by implication healthy people (Hemming, Trevorrow and Rigney). As Elder Tom Trevorrow states: The waters and the seas, the waters of the Kurangh (Coorong), the waters of the rivers and lakes are all spiritual waters…The land and waters is a living body…We the Ngarrindjeri people are a part of its existence…The land and waters must be healthy for the Ngarrindjeri people to be healthy…We say that if Yarluwar-Ruwe dies, the water dies, our Ngartjis die, the Ngarrindjeri will surely die (Ngarrindjeri Nation Yarluwar-Ruwe Plan 13). Ruwe/Ruwar is an important aspect of the public pedagogy practiced at Camp Coorong and by the Ngarrindjeri Regional Authority (NRA). The NRA’s nation building activities arise from negotiated contractual agreements called KNYs: Kungan Ngarrindjeri Yunnan (Listen to Ngarrindjeri people talking). KNYs establish a vital aspect of the NRA’s strategic platform for political negotiations. However, the focus of this paper is concerned with local Indigenous experience of teaching and experience with the education system rather than the broader Ngarrindjeri educational objectives in the area. The specific concerns of this paper are the performance of storytelling and the dialectic relationship between the listener/learner (Tur and Tur). The pedagogy and place of Camp Coorong seeks to engage non-Indigenous people with Indigenous epistemologies through storytelling as a pedagogy of experience and a “pedagogy of discomfort” (Boler and Zembylas). Before detailing the relationship of these with one another, it is necessary to grasp the importance of the interconnectedness of Ruwe/Ruwar articulated in the opening statement of Ngarrindjeri Nations Yarluwar-Ruwe Plan: Caring for Ngarrindjeri Sea, Country and Culture: Our Lands, Our Waters, Our People, All Living Things are connected. We implore people to respect our Ruwe (Country) as it was created in the Kaldowinyeri (the Creation). We long for sparkling, clean waters, healthy land and people and all living things. We long for the Yarluwar-Ruwe (Sea Country) of our ancestors. Our vision is all people Caring, Sharing, Knowing and Respecting the lands, the waters, and all living things. Caring for Country The Lakes and the Coorong are dying as irrigation, over grazing, and pollution have left their toll on the Murray-Darling Basin. Camp Coorong delivers a key message (Hemming, 38) concerning the on-going obligation of Ngarrindjeri’s Ruwe/Ruwar to heal damaged sites both emotionally and environmentally. Couched as a civic responsibility, caring for County augments environmental action. However, there are epistemological distinctions between Natural Resources Management and Ngarrindjeri Ruwe/Ruwar. Ngarrindjeri conceive of the River Murray as one system that cannot be demarcated along state lines. Ngarrrindjeri Elder Uncle Matt Rigney, who recently passed away, argued that the River Murray and the Darling is embodied and that when the river is sick it impacts directly on Ngarrindjeri personhood and wellbeing (Hemming, Trevorrow and Rigney). Therefore, Ngarrindjeri have a responsibility to care for Ngarrindjeri Country and Ngarrindjeri governance systems are informed by cultural and ethical obligations to Ruwe/Ruwar of the lower Murray River, Lakes and Coorong. Transmitting knowledge of Country is imperative as Aunty Ellen Trevorrow states: We have to keep our culture alive. We want access to our special places, our lands and our waters. We need to be able to protect our places, our ngatji [totems], our Old People and restore damaged sites. We want respect for our land and our water and we want to pass down knowledge (cited in Bell, Women and Indigenous Religions 3). Ruwe/Ruwar is an ethic of care where men and women hold distinctive cultural and environmental knowledge and are responsible for passing knowledge to future generations. Knowledge is not codified into a “canon” but is “living knowledge” connected to how to live and how to understand the connection between material, spiritual, human, and non-human realms. Elders at Camp Coorong facilitate understandings of this ontology by sharing stories that evoke questions in children and adults alike. For settler Australians, the first phase of this understanding begins with an engagement with the discomfort of the colonial history of Indigenous dispossession. It also requires learning new modes of “re/inhabition” through a pedagogy informed by “place-consciousness” that centralises Indigenous connection to Country (Gruenewald Both Worlds). Many settler communities embody a dualist western epistemology that is necessarily disrupted when there is acknowledgment from whence one came (Carter 2009). The activities and stories at Camp Coorong provide a positive transformative pedagogy that transforms a possessive white logic (Moreton-Robinson) to one of shared cultural heritage. Ngarrindjeri epistemologies of connection to Country are expressed through a pedagogy of storytelling at Camp Coorong. This often occurs during weaving, making feather flowers, or walking on Ngarrindjeri Country with visitors and students. Enactments such as weaving are not simply occupational or functional. Weaving has deep cultural and metaphorical significance as Aunty Ellen Trevorrow states: There is a whole ritual in weaving. From where we actually start, the centre part of a piece, you’re creating loops to weave into, then you move into the circle. You keep going round and round creating the loops and once the children do those stages they’re talking, actually having a conversation, just like our Old People. It’s sharing time. And that’s where our stories were told (cited in Bell, Ngarrindjeri Wurruwarrin 44). At Camp Coorong learning involves listening to stories while engaging with activities such as weaving or walking on Country. The ecological changes and the history of dispossession are woven into narrative on Country and students see the impact of the desecration of the Coorong, Lower Murray and Lakes and lands. In this way the relatively recent history of colonial race relations and contemporary struggles with government bureaucracies and legislation also comprise the warp and weave of Ngarrindjeri knowledge and connection to Country. Pedagogy of Experience A pedagogy of experience involves telling the story of Indigenous peoples’ sense of “placelessness” within the nation (Watson) as a story of survival and resistance. It is through such pedagogies that Ngarrindjeri Elders at Camp Coorong reconstruct their lives and create agency in the face of settler colonialism. The experiences of growing up in Australia during the assimilation era, fighting against the State on policies that endorsed child theft, being forced to live at fringe camps, experiencing violent racisms, and, for some, living as part of a diaspora in one’s own Country is embedded in the stories of survival, resilience and agency. “Camp Coorong began as an experiment in alternative teaching methods developed largely by George Trevorrow, a local Ngarrindjeri man” (Hemming 38). Classroom malaise was experienced by Ngarrindjeri Elders from Camp Coorong, such as Uncle Tom and Aunty Ellen Trevorrow and the late Uncle George Trevorrow, Aunty Alice Abdulla, and others when interacting or employed in schools as Aboriginal Education Workers (AEWs). It was the invisibility of these Elders’ knowledges inside schools that generated the impetus to establish Camp Coorong as a counter-institution. The spatial dimension of situationality, and its attention to social transformation, connects critical pedagogy to a pedagogy of place at Camp Coorong. Both discourses are concerned with the contextual, geographical conditions that shape people, and the actions people take to shape these conditions (Gruenewald, Both Worlds). Place-based education at Camp Coorong advocates a new localism in order to stimulate community revitalisation and resistance to globalisation and commodity capitalism. It provides the space and opportunity to develop the capacity for inventiveness and adaptation to changing environments and resistance to ecological destruction. Of concern to the growing field of place-based education are how to promote care for people and places (Gruenewald and Smith, xix). For Gruenewald and Smith this requires decolonisation and developing sensitivity to forms of thought that injure and exploit people and places, and re/inhabitation by identifying, conserving, and creating knowledge that nurtures and protects people and places. Engaging in a land ethic of care on Country informs the educational paradigm at Camp Coorong that does not begin in front of bulldozers or under police batons at anti-globalisation rallies, but in the contact zones (Somerville 342) where “a material and metaphysical in-between space for the intersection of multiple and contested stories” (Somerville 342) emerge. Ngarrindjeri knowledge, environmental knowledge, scientific knowledge, colonial histories, and media representations all circulate in the contact zone and are held in productive tension (Carter). Decolonising Pedagogy and Pedagogies of Discomfort The critical and transformative aspects of decolonising pedagogies emerge from storytelling and involve the gift of narrative and the enactment of reciprocity that occurs between the listener and the storyteller. Reciprocity is based on the principles of interconnectedness, balance, and the idea that actions create corresponding action through the gift of story (Stewart-Harawira). Camp Coorong is a place for inter-cultural dialogue through storytelling. Being located on Ngarrindjeri Country the non-Indigenous listener is more able to “hear” and at the same time move along a continuum of a) disbelief and anger about the dispossession of Indigenous peoples; b) emotional confusion about their own sense of belonging in Australia; c) shock at the ways in which liberal western society’s structural privilege is built on Indigenous inequality on the grounds of race and habitus (Bordieu and Passeron); then, d) towards empathy that is framed as race cognisance (Aveling). Stories are not represented through a sanguine vision of the past, but are told of colonisation, dispossession, as well as of hope for the healing of Ngarrinjderi Country. The listener is gifted with stories at Camp Coorong. However, there is an ethical obligation to the gifting that learners may not understand until later and which concern the rights and obligations fundamental to notions of deep connection to Country. It is often in the recount of one’s experience at Camp Coorong, such as in reflective journals or in conversation, that recognition of the importance of history, social justice, and sovereignty are brought to light. In the first phase of learning, non-Indigenous students and teachers may move from uncomfortable silence, to a space where they can hear the stories and thereby become engaged listeners. They may go through a process of grappling with a range of issues and emotions. There is frustration, anger, and blame that knowledge has been omitted from their education, and they routinely ask: “How did we not know this history?” In the second stage learners tend to remain outside of the story until they are hooked by an aspect that draws them into it. They have the choice of engagement and this requires empathy. At this stage learners are grappling with the antithetical feelings of guilt and innocence; these feelings emerge when those advantaged and challenged by their complicity with settler colonialism, racism, and the structural privilege of whiteness start to understand the benefits they gain from Indigenous dispossession and ask “was it my fault?” Thirdly, learners enter a space which may disavow and dismiss the newly encountered knowledge and move back into resistance, silence, and reluctance to hear. However, it is at this point that a choice emerges. The choice to engage in the emotional labour required to acknowledge the gift of the story and thereby unsettle white Australian identity (Bignall; Boler and Zembylas). In this process “inscribed habits of attention,” as described by Boler and Zembylas (127), are challenged. These habits have been enabled by the emotional binaries of “us” and “them”. The colonial legacy of Indigenous dispossession is an emotive subject that disrupts national pride that is built on this binary. At Camp Coorong, discomfort is created during the reiteration of stories and engagement in various activities. Uncertainty and discomfort are necessary parts of restructuring the emotional habitus and reconstructing identity. The primary ethical aim of a pedagogy of discomfort is the creation of contestability. The learner comes to understand the rights and obligations of caring for Country and has to decide how to carry the story. Ngarrindjeri ethics of care inspire the learner to undertake the emotional labour necessary to relocate their understanding of identity. As a zone of cultural contestation, Camp Coorong also enables pedagogies that allow for critical reflection on common educational practices undertaken by educators and students. Conclusion The aim of the camp was to overturn racism and provide employment for Ngarrindjeri on Country (Hemming, 38). Students and teachers from around the state come to Camp Coorong and learn to weave, make feather flowers, and listen to stories about Ngarrindjeri Country whilst walking on Country (Hemming 38). Camp Coorong fosters understanding of Ngarrindjeri Ruwe/Ruwar and at the same time overturns essentialist notions developed by deficit theories that routinely remain embedded in the school curriculum. Camp Coorong’s anti-racist epistemology mobilises an Indigenous pedagogy of storytelling and experience as a decolonising methodology. Learning Ngarrindjeri history, cultural heritage, and land ethic of care deepens students’ understanding of connecting to Country through reflection on situations, histories, and shared spaces of human and non-human actors. Pedagogies of discomfort also inform practice at Camp Coorong and the intersections of theory and practice in this context disrupts identity formations that have been grounded in a white colonial construction of nationhood. Education is a means of social and cultural reproduction, as well as a key site of resistance and vehicle for social change. Although the analysis of domination is a feature of critical pedagogy, what is urgently required is a language of hope and transformation understood from a Ngarrindjeri standpoint; something that is achieved at Camp Coorong. Acknowledgments I would like to acknowledge the process of collaboration that occurred at Camp Coorong with Aunty Ellen Trevorrow, Aunty Alice Abdulla, and Deborah Rankine. The key ideas were established in conversation and the article was revised on subsequent occasions whilst at Camp Coorong with the aforementioned authors. This paper was produced as part of the Australian Research Council Discovery Project, ‘Negotiating a Space in the Nation: The Case of Ngarrindjeri’ (DP1094869). 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Introduction This article argues in favour of same-sex marriage, but only under certain conditions. Same-sex marriage ought to be introduced in the Australian context in order to remedy the formal inequalities between lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) citizens and their heterosexual/cisgendered counterparts. One common method of justifying the introduction of formal same-sex relationship recognition has been via the promotion of LGBT “normalcy.” This article explores such a trend by analysing popular media and advertising, since media representations and coverage have been shown to affect the way the general public “learns, understands, and thinks about an issue” (Li and Lui 73). This article finds that the promotion of normalcy can, in fact, perpetuate hetero-norms, and only offer LGBT people an imaginary social equality. Such normalisation, it is suggested, is detrimental to a wider goal of gaining respect for LGBT people regardless, not in spite of, their identity and relationships. Yet, this article maintains that such imaginary equality can be avoided, so long as a plurality of possibilities for one’s intimate and familial life are actively legitimated and promoted. Australian Same-Sex Relationship Recognition The Relationships Act 2003 (Tas) was the first piece of Australian legislation to formally recognise same-sex relationships. This act allowed Tasmanian residents to register a partnership, although these unions were not recognised in any other Australian State. However, despite this State-based movement, as well as other examples of same-sex unions gaining increasing recognition in the West, not all legal changes have been positive for LGBT people. One example of this was the Howard Government’s 2004 reformation of the Marriage Act 1961 (Cwlth), which made explicit that marriage could only take place between one man and one woman to the exclusion of all others, and also refused to acknowledge same-sex marriages performed legally overseas. Furthermore, 2012 saw the failure of several Bills which sought the introduction of same-sex marriage at both the State and Federal level. Thus, same-sex marriage is still illegal in Australia to-date. But, despite these major setbacks, other progress towards same-sex relationship recognition has continued. At the Federal level, different-sex and same-sex de facto relationship recognition became formally equal over the period of 2008-9. Furthermore, it is both official Greens and Australian Labor Party policy to support equal marriage rights. At the State level, the example of recognising same-sex civil unions/registered partnerships has been followed by Victoria, the Australian Capital Territory, New South Wales, and Queensland. There are several reasons why same-sex couples may desire the right to marry. Some reasons are practical; in any given Nation-State where same-sex couples are without the right to marry, then same-sex partners are unable to claim the same benefits and undertake the same obligations as heterosexual married couples. They are formally unequal. On the basis of their empirical research Jowett and Peel argue that formal equality is a motivating factor for the same-sex marriage movement, noting that a likely incentive to engage in these unions would be security, since LGBT people have heretofore lived and continue to live with a very real threat of discrimination. This is largely why the option of civil unions was created in the West. The measure was first introduced by Denmark in 1989, and its purpose was to be a marriage-like institution, existing solely for the recognition of same-sex couples (Broberg 149). Although civil unions should theoretically offer same-sex couples the same legal benefits and obligations that heterosexual married couples receive, this is widely believed to be false in practice. The Netherlands has almost achieved full equality, at 96%; however, countries such as Belgium rate poorly, at 48% (Waaldijk 9). As such, it has been argued that civil unions are not sufficient alternatives to marriage. Amitai Etzioni claims, “many gay people feel strongly that unless they are entitled to exactly the same marriages as heterosexuals, their basic individual rights are violated, which they (and many liberals) hold as semisacred” (qtd. in Shanley 65). This opinion demonstrates that formal equality is a key concern of the same-sex marriage debate. However, it is not the only concern. The organisation Australian Marriage Equality (AME), which has been at the forefront of the fight for same-sex marriage since its establishment in 2004, claims that “Civil unions are not as widely understood or respected as marriage and creating a separate name for same-sex relationships entrenches a different, discriminatory, second-class status for these relationships” (Greenwich, The Case for Same-Sex Marriage 3). They claim further that, if recognition continues to be refused, it maintains the message that same-sex partners are not capable of the level of love and commitment associated with marriage (Greenwich, The Case for Same-Sex Marriage). Thus, AME claim that not only do the legal entitlements of civil unions frequently fail to be formally equivalent, but even the difference in name contributes to the ongoing discrimination of LGBT people. Although neither marriage nor civil unions are federally available to same-sex couples in Australia, AME argue that marriage must be primarily endorsed, then (Greenwich, A Failed Experiment 1). The argument is, if Australia were to introduce civil unions, but not marriage, civil unions would reify the second-class status of homosexuals, and would present same-sex relationships and homosexuality as inferior to different-sex relationships and heterosexuality. Thus, the title “marriage” is significant, and one strategy for demonstrating that LGBT people are fit for this title has been by promoting representations of sameness to the heterosexual mainstream. To achieve the status that goes along with the ability to marry, same-sex couples have typically tried to get their relationships publicly recognised and legally regulated in two ways. They have sought to (a) demonstrate that LGBT people do structure their relationships and familial lives according to the heteropatriarchal normative stereotypes of traditional family values, and/or (b) they emphasise the “born this way” aspect of LGBT sexuality/gender identity, refusing to situate it as a choice. This latter aspect is significant, since arguments based on natural “facts” often claim that what is true by nature cannot be changed, and/or what is true by nature is good (Antony 12). These two strategies thus seek to contribute to a shift in the public perception of homosexuals, homosexuality, and same-sex relationships. The idea, in other words, is to promote the LGBT subject as being a “normal” and “good” citizen (Jowett and Peel 206). Media Representations of Normal Gays In Australia, the normalcy of same-sex relationships has been advocated perhaps most obviously in television adverting. One such advertisement is run by Get Up! Action for Australia, an independent, grass-roots advocacy organisation. This ad is shot from a first-person perspective, where the camera is the eyes of the subject. It follows the blossoming of a relationship: from meeting a man on a boat, to exchanging phone numbers, dating, attending social events with friends, sharing special occasions, meeting each other’s families, sharing a home, caring for sick family members, and so forth, finally culminating in a proposal for marriage. Upon the proposal it is revealed that the couple consists of two young-adult, white, middle-class men. The purpose of this advertisement is to surprise the audience member, as the gay couple’s relationship follows the same trajectory of what is typically expected in a heterosexual relationship. The effect, in turn, is to shock the audience member into recognising that same-sex couples are just like different-sex couples. Hopefully, this will also serve to justify to the audience member that LGBT people deserve the same legal treatment as heterosexuals. The couple in this advertisement appear to be monogamous, their relationship seems to have blossomed over a length of time, they support each other’s families, and the couple comes to share a home. Projecting images like these suggests that such aspects are the relevant features of marriage, which LGBT people mimic. The second Australian advertisement from AME, features a young-adult, interracial, gay couple, who also appear to be middle-class. In this advertisement the families of the two partners, Ivan and Chris, comment on the illegal status of same-sex marriage in Australia. The ad opens with Ivan’s parents, and notes the length of their marriage—45 years. Ivan later claims that he wants to get married because he wants to be with Chris for life. These signals remind the viewer that marriage is supposed to be a life-long commitment, despite the prevalence of divorce. The advertisement also focuses on Chris’s parents, who claim that thanks to their son’s relationship their family has now expanded. The ad cuts between segments of spoken opinion and shots of family time spent at dinner, or in a park, and so on. At one point Ivan states, “We’re not activists; we’re just people who want to get married, like everyone else.” This reiterates the “normalcy” of the desire to marry in general, which is confirmed by Chris’s statement when he says, “It means that everyone would accept it. It’s sort of like a normal... A sense of normalcy.” This implies that to be seen as normal is both desirable and good; but more to the point, the ad positions LGBT people as if they are all already normal, and simply await recognition. It does not challenge the perception of what “normalcy” is. Finally, the advertisement closes with the written statement: “Marriage: It’s about family. Everyone’s family.” This advertisement thus draws connections between the legal institution of marriage and socially shared normative conceptions of married family life. While these two advertisements are not the only Australian television ads which support this particular vision of same-sex marriage, they are typical. What is interesting is that this particular image of homosexuality and same-sex relationships is becoming increasingly common in popular media also. For example, American sitcom Modern Family features a gay couple who share a house, have an adopted daughter, and maintain a fairly traditional lifestyle where one works full time as a lawyer, while the other remains at home and is the primary care-giver for their daughter. Their relationship is also monogamous and long-term. The couple is white, and they appear to have a middle-class status. Another American sitcom, The New Normal, features a white gay couple (one is Jewish) who also share a home, are in a long-term monogamous relationship, and who both have careers. This sitcom centres on this couple’s decision to have a child and the life of the woman who decides to act as their surrogate. This couple are also financially well off. Both of these sitcoms have prime Australian television slots. Although the status of the couples’ relationships in the aforementioned sitcoms is not primarily focussed on, they each participate in a relationship which is traditionally marriage-like in structure. This includes long-term commitment, monogamy, sharing a home and economic arrangements, starting and raising a family, and so on. And it is the very marriage-like aspects of same-sex relationships which Australian equal marriage advocates have used to justify why same-sex marriage should be legal. The depiction of on-screen homosexual couples (who are gay, rather than lesbian, bisexual, or trans) and the public debate in favour of same-sex marriage both largely promote and depend upon the perception of these relationships as effectively "the same" as heterosexual relationships in terms of structure, goals, commitment, life plans, lifestyle, and so on. A comment should be made on the particular representations in the examples above. The repetition of images of the LGBT community as primarily male, white, young-adult, middle-class, straight-looking, monogamous, and so on, comes at the expense of distancing even further those who do not conform to this model (Borgerson et. al. 959; Fejes 221). These images represent what Darren Rosenblum calls “but-for queers,” meaning that but-for their sexual orientation, these people would be just the same as “normal” heterosexuals. Rosenblum has commented on the increased juridical visibility of but-for queers and the legal gains they have won; however, he criticises that these people have been unable to adequately challenge heterosexism since their acceptance is predicated on being as much like normative heterosexuals as possible (84-5). Heterosexism and heteronormativity refer to the ways in which localised practices and centralised institutions legitimise and privilege heterosexuality, seeing it as fundamental, natural, and normal (Cole and Avery 47). If the only queers who gain visibility thanks to these sitcoms and advertisements are but-for queers, the likelihood that heterosexism will be challenged with the legal recognition of same-sex marriage drastically decreases. Appeals to sameness and normalcy typically refuse to critically examine heteronormative standards of acceptability. This results in the continued promotion of the “sexually involved couple,” realised according to particular normative standards, as the appropriate, best, or even natural trajectory for one’s intimate life. Thus, a key reason that some LGBT people have rejected marriage as an appropriate goal is because assimilative inclusion does not offer a legitimately respected social identity to LGBT people as a whole. When legal changes promoting the equality of LGBT people are predicated on their assimilation to heteronormative relationship criteria, this can only achieve “imaginary” equality and the illusion of progress, while real instances of homophobia, discrimination, marginalisation and hostility towards LGBT people continue (Richardson 394). Thus, given the highly specified representations of “normal” LGBT people, it is fair to conclude that there is a biased representation of same-sex relationships on-screen in terms of sex, race, ability, wealth, monogamy, and so on. The assimilationist strategy of publicising particularly gay identity and relationships as just like heterosexuality appears to depoliticise queerness and render lesbians, bisexuals, and transgender people more or less invisible. This can be problematic insofar as the subversive role that queer identity could play in bringing about social change regarding acceptability of other sexual and intimate relationships is lessened (Richardson 395-6). The question that emerges at this point, then, is whether same-sex marriage is doomed to perpetuate hetero-norms and designate all other non-conformists as socially, morally, and/or legally inferior. Pluralisation Ironically, while some activists reject civil unions, their introduction may be crucial to support a “pluralisation strategy.” AME is, in fact, not opposed to civil unions, so long as they do not pretend to be marriage (Greenwich, A Failed Experiment 1). However, AME’s main focus is still on achieving marriage equality, rather than promoting a diverse array of relationship recognition. A pluralisation strategy, though, would seek to question the very normative and hierarchical status of marriage, given the strategy’s key aim of greater options for legally regulated relationship recognition. Regarding polyamorous relationships specifically, Elizabeth Emens has argued that,The existence of some number of people choosing to live polyamorous lives should prompt us all to [...] think about our own choices and about the ways that our norms and laws urge upon us one model rather than pressing us to make informed, affirmative choices about what might best suit our needs and desires.” (in Shanley 79) While non-monogamous relationships have frequently been rejected, even by same-sex marriage activists, since they too threaten traditional forms of marriage, the above statement clearly articulates the purpose of the pluralisation strategy: to challenge people to think about the way norms and laws press one model upon people, and to challenge that model by engaging in and demanding recognition for other models of intimate and familial relationships. When a variety of formal options for legalising various types of relationships is legislated for, this allows people greater choice in how they can conceive and structure their relationships. It also creates a political space where norms can be publicly assessed, criticised, and re-evaluated. Thus, the goal to be achieved is the representation of multiple relationship/family structures as being of equal worth, rather than fixing them in a relationship hierarchy where traditional marriage is the ideal. There exist many examples of people who “do relationships differently”—whether they are homosexual, polyamorous, asexual, step-families, and so on—and the existence of these must come to be reflected as equally valuable and viable options in the dominant social imaginary. Representations in popular media are one avenue, for example, which advocates of this pluralisation strategy might employ in order to achieve such a shift. Another avenue is advocacy. If advocacy on the importance of formally recognising multiple types of relationships increased, this may balance the legitimacy of these relationships with marriage. Furthermore, it may prevent the perpetuation of hetero-norms and increase respect for LGBT identity, since they would be less likely to be pressured into assimilation. Thus, same-sex marriage activists could, in fact, gain from taking up the cause of refusing one single model for relationship-recognition (Calhoun 1037). In this sense, then, the emergence of civil union schemes as an alternative to marriage in the West has potentially yielded something very valuable in the way of increasing options regarding one’s intimate life, especially in the Australian context where diverse recognition has already begun. Interestingly, Australia has come some way towards pluralisation at the State level; however, it is hardly actively promoted. The civil union schemes of both Tasmania and Victoria have a provision entitling “caring couples” to register their relationships. A “caring couple” involves two people who are not involved in a sexual relationship, who may or may not be related, and who provide mutual or one-sided care to the other. The caring couple are entitled to the same legal benefits as those romantic couples who register their relationships. One can infer then, that not only sexual relationships, but those of the caring couple as in Tasmania and Victoria, or possibly even those of a relationship like one “between three single mothers who are not lovers but who have thrown in their lot together as a family,” could be realised and respected if other alternatives were available and promoted alongside marriage (Cornell, in Shanley 84). While Australia would have quite some way to go to achieve these goals, the examples of Tasmania and Victoria are a promising start in the right direction. Conclusion This paper has argued that marriage is a goal that LGBT people should be wary of. Promoting limited representations of same-sex oriented individuals and couples can perpetuate the primacy of hetero-norms, and fail to deliver respect for all LGBT people. However, despite the growing trend of justifying marriage and homosexuality thanks to “normalcy”, promotion of another strategy—a pluralisation strategy—might result in more beneficial outcomes. It may result in a more balanced weight of normative worth between institutions and types of recognition, which may then result in citizens feeling less compelled to enter marriage. Creating formal equality while pursuing the promotion of other alternatives as legitimate will result in a greater acceptance of queer identity than will the endorsement of same-sex marriage justified by LGBT normalcy. While the latter may result in speedier access to legal benefits for some, the cost of such a strategy should be underscored. 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