Journal articles on the topic 'Air Base Sembach (Germany)'

Utilization of optical fiber involves two problems: the use of a protective shell (mainly various types of plastics) and the actual optical fibersquartz filaments with an admixture of germanium dioxide coated with a protective layer of polyethylene. The aim of the work was to study the physical and chemical properties of samples of optical fiber wastes. The behavior of the components of this material has been studied by thermography: a quartz germanium-containing glass and a polyethylene sheath during heat treatment. It has been established that in the temperature range from 20 to 700 °С in the atmosphere of the air quartz fiber does not undergo changes, and the polyethylene shell of the optical fiber passes through the stages of sorption of water vapor and air oxygen at 125 and 200 °С during melting, and above 300 °С – destruction with a mass loss of up to 55 % and the release into the gas of products of oxidative degradation.

IntroductionIn Germany, emergency medical care is provided by ambulances. Emergency physicians also are used in the German rescue system to ensure primary care. Additionally, rescue helicopters are insertable. The rescue helicopter in Dresden covers the city of Dresden and its surrounding areas, with 517,000 inhabitants and distances up to 70 km. The goal of this study was to evaluate emergency cases in helicopter rescue missions according to primary diagnoses and severity of the mission on the basis of NACA Score.MethodsData from all emergencies using the German Air Rescue (DRF-Luftrettung) Helicopter Base Dresden were recorded on a standardized protocol and transferred to a central computer database (MEDAT®). Data from all emergency cases between January 2006 and July 2010 were analyzed.ResultsThere was a total of 6,310 emergencies during the study period, with a significant increase over time. The helicopter was on-scene within 10.9 minutes. In total, 54% of the patients were male. The rate of female patients > 80 years of age was 64.5%. A total of 63.4% of patients suffered life-threatening injuries or dysfunctions and a NACA score ≥ 4. A total of 7.6% of patients were classified in NACA 6 or 7. The most common cause for rescue missions was an acute coronary syndrome (20.4%). Other frequent diagnoses included brain injury (13.3%), unconsciousness (12.5%), stroke (12.9%), general cerebral convulsion (7.9%), polytrauma (6.4%), and cardiac arrest (5.0%). The rate of prehospital endotracheal intubation was 15.1%. In 1.1% of patients, a thoracic drainage was established.ConclusionsIn recent years the number of helicopter rescue missions increased, along with injury severity. The total number of patients with NACA 6 and 7 was extremely high, and demonstrates the need for an efficient emergency medical rescue system that includes helicopters.

Abstract In the mammal collection of the Museum für Naturkunde Berlin (MfN), Germany a serious but inconspicuous deterioration of mammal skins and hides has been detected. The tear strength has been decreasing until the skins are falling apart, risking permanent loss of valuable specimens. At the MfN, about 80% of the 30,000 skins are affected. Although this phenomenon has been known by taxidermists for some time, there are very few publications on the subject. In this study, we surveyed the literature and conducted interviews with collections and leather industry professionals to understand the extent and potential causes of skin deterioration. In addition, analyses of skins in the collections of the MfN and the ZFMK (Bonn, Germany) showed that more than 80% of the tested skins had a very low tear strength. The tear strength appears correlated with the pH value and age of the skin. Our findings suggest that surplus acid from residual fat, preservation methods, or external sources such as air pollution might be a primary source of the degradation. Future steps should include further research on the chemical processes involved in deterioration, treatment options for threatened skins, and development of best practices, protocols for documentation, and development of a publicly available online knowledge base for museum skin preparation, preservation, and storage methods.

We investigated the prevalence of hepatitis B virus (HBV) and hepatitis C virus (HCV) serological markers of infection in young adults from the metropolitan region of Florianópolis who were conscripts of the Air Base of Florianópolis in the state of Santa Catarina, Brazil. A population-based cross-sectional seroprevalence study was conducted with 371 young males during a one year period starting in June 2009. Demographic characteristics, socio-economic characteristics and possible risk factors to HBV and HCV were assessed. Blood samples were analyzed for HBsAg, anti-HBc, anti-HCV and anti-HBs through automated microparticle enzymatic immunoassays (Abbott®, AxSYM System, Wiesbaden, Germany). None of the participants showed positivity to HBsAg or anti-HCV. The prevalence of anti-HBc was 1.6% (95% CI 0.6 - 3.5), and the prevalence of anti-HBs was 40.7% (95% CI 35.7 - 45.9). Unsafe sex was associated with positive anti-HBc in a bivariate analysis. There was a very low prevalence of past HBV infection and no cases of past HCV infection in a young adult population in the metropolitan region of Florianópolis. The very low prevalence of markers of infection and risk factors indicates a very optimistic future with respect to HBV and HCV infection in this population.

Abstract. Twenty nine cases of layered liquid-water cloud systems were observed with dual-field-of-view (dual-FOV) Raman lidar over the polluted central European site of Leipzig, Germany, between September 2010 and September 2012. For the first time, a detailed lidar-based study of aerosol-cloud-dynamics relationship was conducted. A collocated Doppler lidar provided information on vertical velocity and thus on updraft and downdraft occurrence. The novel dual-FOV lidar permits the retrieval of the particle extinction coefficient (used as aerosol proxy just below cloud base) and cloud properties such as droplet effective radius and cloud droplet number concentration in the lower part of optically thin cloud layers. Here, we present the key results of our statistical analysis of the 2010–2012 observations. Besides a clear aerosol effect on cloud droplet number concentration in the lower part of the convectively weak cloud layers during updraft periods, meteorological effects (turbulent mixing, entrainment of dry air) were found to diminish the observable aerosol effect higher up in the clouds. The corresponding aerosol-cloud interaction (ACI) parameter based on changes in cloud droplet number concentration with aerosol loading was found to be close to 0.8 at 30–70 m above cloud base during updraft periods which points to values around 1 at cloud base (0–30 m above cloud base). Our findings are extensively compared with literature values and agree well with airborne observations. As a conclusion, ACI studies over continental sites should include vertical wind observations to avoid a~bias (too low values) in the obtained ACI results.

Abstract. For the first time, a liquid-water cloud study of the aerosol–cloud-dynamics relationship, solely based on lidar, was conducted. Twenty-nine cases of pure liquid-water altocumulus layers were observed with a novel dual-field-of-view Raman lidar over the polluted central European site of Leipzig, Germany, between September 2010 and September 2012. By means of the novel Raman lidar technique, cloud properties such as the droplet effective radius and cloud droplet number concentration (CDNC) in the lower part of altocumulus layers are obtained. The conventional aerosol Raman lidar technique provides the aerosol extinction coefficient (used as aerosol proxy) below cloud base. A collocated Doppler lidar measures the vertical velocity at cloud base and thus updraft and downdraft occurrence. Here, we present the key results of our statistical analysis of the 2010–2012 observations. Besides a clear aerosol effect on cloud droplet number concentration in the lower part of the altocumulus layers during updraft periods, turbulent mixing and entrainment of dry air is assumed to be the main reason for the found weak correlation between aerosol proxy and CDNC higher up in the cloud. The corresponding aerosol–cloud interaction parameter based on changes in cloud droplet number concentration with aerosol loading was found to be close to 0.8 at 30–70 m above cloud base during updraft periods and below 0.4 when ignoring vertical-wind information in the analysis. Our findings are extensively compared with literature values and agree well with airborne observations.

Abstract Cabbage plants in pots were inverted and dipped in 1.5 liters of a solution of Neem Azal-T (Trifolio-M GmbH, Germany). Neem Azal-T contains 5% azadirachtin, generally considered the active ingredient in neem extracts. Neem Azal-T was diluted in water at concentrations of 0, 0.25, 0.5, 1, 2, 4, 8 and 16 ppm azadirachtin. Each plant was held in the solution for 60 sees. After dipping, the plants were set in a screened insectary to dry for 3 hours, cabbage moth larvae in the early 2nd instar were placed in net bags, 20 larvae per bag, and the bags were placed over each plant and secured at the base of the stem. The plants were arranged on the concrete insectary floor in a RCB design with 5 replications. The average air temperature during the experiment was 15.5°C. The average day length was 18 h. The experiment lasted 16 days, at which time larval mortality was assessed.

AbstractAlthough current upper-air observing systems provide an impressive array of observations, many are deficient in observing the temporal evolution of the boundary layer thermodynamic profile. Ground-based remote sensing instruments such as the multichannel microwave radiometer (MWR) and Atmospheric Emitted Radiance Interferometer (AERI) are able to provide profiles of temperature and water vapor through the boundary layer at 5-min resolution or better. Previous work compared these instruments through optimal-estimation retrievals on simulated clear-sky spectra to evaluate the retrieval accuracy and information content of each instrument. In this study, this method is duplicated using real observations from collocated MWR and AERI instruments from a field campaign in southwestern Germany. When compared with radiosondes, this study confirms the previous results that AERI retrievals are more accurate than MWR retrievals in clear-sky and below-cloud-base profiling. These results demonstrate that the AERI has nearly 2 times as much information as the MWR.

ABSTRACTThe moth Malacosoma castrensis (Lasiocampidae) is commonly found along the Northern Germany coasts, the habitats of which are mainly represented by salt marshes subjected to sea level variations. Surprisingly, terrestrial caterpillars can withstand many hours of being flooded by seawater. The ability to withstand periods of submersion in a terrestrial insect raises the problem of respiration related to avoiding water percolation into the tracheal system. In the present study, we investigated under laboratory conditions the role of water-repellent cuticle structures in oxygen supply in caterpillars of M. castrensis submerged in water. For this purpose, air-layer stability tests using force measurements, and micromorphology of cuticle structures using SEM and fluorescence microscopy, were performed. A plastron appeared when a caterpillar is underwater. The stability, gas composition and internal pressure of the plastron were estimated. The plastron is stabilized by long and scarce hairs, which are much thicker than the corresponding hairs of aquatic insects. Thick and stiff hairs with sclerotized basal and middle regions protrude into the water through the plastron–water interface, while substantial regions of thin and flexible hairs are aligned along the plastron–water interface and their side walls can support pressure in the plastron even below atmospheric pressure. Additional anchoring points between hair's stalk and microtrichia near the hair base provide enhanced stiffness to the hair layer and prevent the hair layer from collapse and water entering between hairs. The advancing contact angle on hairs is more than 90 deg, which is close to the effective contact angle for the whole caterpillar.

IntroductionIn Germany, emergency physicians in the prehospital rescue system ensure primary care. The rescue helicopter in Dresden covers the city of Dresden (population 517,000), surrounding areas with distances up to 70 km. Typical reasons for alerting the rescue helicopter are heart diseases or injuries during accidents. There also is a high number of patients with attempted or completed suicides. The goal of the study was to analyze cases associated with suicide.MethodsData of all emergency transports from the German Air Rescue (DRF-Luftrettung) Helicopter Base Dresden between January 2008 and December 2009 were recorded on a standardized protocol and transferred to a central computer database. Subsequently, all cases were analyzed with special regard to suicides.ResultsThere were a total of 3,051 cases during the study period. Fifty-nine cases (1.9%) were related to suicide. The helicopter was on the scene within 10.9 minutes. The mean NACA Score was 4.9. The mean age was 51.6. A total of 52.5% of patients were male. In 15.2% of the cases, the patient called for emergency help; in 37.3%, bystanders contacted authorities. The reason for attempted suicide was unknown in 57.6% of the cases. In 16.9%, it was related to partnership, in 20.3% to health problems, in 5.1% to financial problems. The main method of attempt was the use of medical pills (47.4%). Other frequent methods were strangulation (18.6%), stab wounds and gunshots (8.5%), intoxication (3.4%), or unknown (16.9%). Six patients received cardiopulmonary resuscitation, four reached a Return of Spontaneous Circulation, and 10 patients died.DiscussionHelicopters often transport suicide victims. This study demonstrates the need for better prevention as well as an improvement of education for emergency physicians working in the prehospital setting.

The article shows that the smart city management systems requires continuous monitoring of environmental parameters (air, soil and water quality, temperature, humidity, toxic impurities, etc.) and the placement of a large number of different sensors, among which biosensors occupy a leading position. The study analyzed patent documents for leading countries of the world (Great Britain, France, Japan, Germany, USA, Russia) and it showed a steady increase in the number of patents on biosensors. The reasons for the growth and continuous expansion of the scope of biosensors are: cost reduction, increased durability, speed, reliability, accuracy and sensitivity; increase in their functionality. The article presents a classification of biosensors indicating the percentage of patents by type of transducer and the number of patents by bioselective elements, as well as a description of an automated system for the synthesis of new biosensor designs based on the energy-information method. Paper is given the resulting solution can be used as a skeletal structure to create new biosensors, or improved using the knowledge base on techniques for improving the technical and operational characteristics of physical and technical effects.

Abstract. This study explores the applicability of molecular methods for the characterization of primary biogenic aerosol (PBA) particles in the atmosphere. Samples of fine particulate matter (PM2.5) and total suspended particulates (TSP) have been collected on different types of filter materials at urban, rural, and high-alpine locations along an altitude transect in the south of Germany (Munich, Hohenpeissenberg, Mt. Zugspitze). From filter aliquots loaded with about one milligram of air particulate matter, DNA could be extracted and DNA sequences could be determined for bacteria, fungi, plants and animals. Sequence analyses were used to determine the identity of biological organisms, and terminal restriction length polymorphism analyses (T-RFLP) were applied to estimate diversities and relative abundances of bacteria. Investigations of blank and background samples showed that filter materials have to be decontaminated prior to use, and that the sampling and handling procedures have to be carefully controlled to avoid artifacts in the analyses. Mass fractions of DNA in PM2.5 were found to be around 0.05% in urban, rural, and high alpine aerosols. The average concentration of DNA determined for urban air was on the order of ~7 ng m−3, indicating that human adults may inhale about one microgram of DNA per day (corresponding to ~105 haploid human genomes). Most of the bacterial sequences found in PM2.5 were from Proteobacteria (42) and some from Actinobacteria (10) and Firmicutes (1). The fungal sequences were characteristic for Ascomycota (3) and Basidiomycetes (1), which are known to actively discharge spores into the atmosphere. The plant sequences could be attributed to green plants (2) and moss spores (2), while animal DNA was found only for one unicellular eukaryote (protist). Over 80% of the 53 bacterial sequences could be matched with about 40% of the 19 T-RF peaks (58 to 494 base pair length) found in the investigated PM2.5 samples. The results demonstrate that the T-RFLP analysis covered more of the bacterial diversity than the sequence analysis. Shannon-Weaver indices calculated from both sequence and T-RFLP data indicate that the bacterial diversity in the rural samples was higher than in the urban and alpine samples. Two of the bacterial sequences (Gammaproteobacteria) and five of the T-RF peaks were found at all sampling locations.

The aim of the paper is to analyse peculiarities of building an environmental tax systems, examining the level of their convergent (divergent) relationships. Main contribution of the paper lies in testing of the hypothesis of existing convergence processes in architecture of environmental tax systems of European countries (as the United Kingdom, Germany, Poland, Slovenia, Latvia, Lithuania and the Czech Republic) on the basis of panel data analysis for the set of European countries using the regression model in Stata 12/SE and MS Excel. Testing the hypothesis about the existence of convergence in construction of environmental tax system of the above mentioned European countries was realized on the base of analysis of coefficients of panel data regression analysis (both fixed effects and random effects models) – for beta convergence and variation coefficient – for sigma convergence. Such parameters as environmental tax revenue (for air pollution) to general tax revenues ratio, %; environmental tax revenue (for water pollution) to general tax revenues ratio, %; environmental tax revenue (for waste management) to general tax revenues ratio, % were chosen as measures of environmental tax system characteristics. Empirical research results confirmed hypothesis of the presence of β-convergence and σ-convergence in the context environmental tax systems of chosen countries.

Abstract. Air pollution is the number one environmental cause of premature deaths in Europe. Despite extensive regulations, air pollution remains a challenge, especially in urban areas. For studying summertime air quality in the Berlin–Brandenburg region of Germany, the Weather Research and Forecasting Model with Chemistry (WRF-Chem) is set up and evaluated against meteorological and air quality observations from monitoring stations as well as from a field campaign conducted in 2014. The objective is to assess which resolution and level of detail in the input data is needed for simulating urban background air pollutant concentrations and their spatial distribution in the Berlin–Brandenburg area. The model setup includes three nested domains with horizontal resolutions of 15, 3 and 1 km and anthropogenic emissions from the TNO-MACC III inventory. We use RADM2 chemistry and the MADE/SORGAM aerosol scheme. Three sensitivity simulations are conducted updating input parameters to the single-layer urban canopy model based on structural data for Berlin, specifying land use classes on a sub-grid scale (mosaic option) and downscaling the original emissions to a resolution of ca. 1 km × 1 km for Berlin based on proxy data including traffic density and population density. The results show that the model simulates meteorology well, though urban 2 m temperature and urban wind speeds are biased high and nighttime mixing layer height is biased low in the base run with the settings described above. We show that the simulation of urban meteorology can be improved when specifying the input parameters to the urban model, and to a lesser extent when using the mosaic option. On average, ozone is simulated reasonably well, but maximum daily 8 h mean concentrations are underestimated, which is consistent with the results from previous modelling studies using the RADM2 chemical mechanism. Particulate matter is underestimated, which is partly due to an underestimation of secondary organic aerosols. NOx (NO + NO2) concentrations are simulated reasonably well on average, but nighttime concentrations are overestimated due to the model's underestimation of the mixing layer height, and urban daytime concentrations are underestimated. The daytime underestimation is improved when using downscaled, and thus locally higher emissions, suggesting that part of this bias is due to deficiencies in the emission input data and their resolution. The results further demonstrate that a horizontal resolution of 3 km improves the results and spatial representativeness of the model compared to a horizontal resolution of 15 km. With the input data (land use classes, emissions) at the level of detail of the base run of this study, we find that a horizontal resolution of 1 km does not improve the results compared to a resolution of 3 km. However, our results suggest that a 1 km horizontal model resolution could enable a detailed simulation of local pollution patterns in the Berlin–Brandenburg region if the urban land use classes, together with the respective input parameters to the urban canopy model, are specified with a higher level of detail and if urban emissions of higher spatial resolution are used.

Air pollution is responsible for more than 400.000 premature deaths/year in Europe – so German newspapers and other media complained at 9 September 2020, refering to the European Environment Agency [1]. If you ask the scientic base of this statement with severe political and economic consequences, you will find numerous studies since many years. Nearly all these studies describe “associations”, “interactions” ore model calculations regarding air pollution and regional incidences, but for the author not a convincing proof for causality. Correlations don’t proof causal interactions, they include a hight risk of stork- -statistics. A similar case exist in the risk-level of NOx, decided by the EU as 40 μg/m3 (mean of year) to “protect human health and the environment” [2]. In Germany the MAK-value amounts to 950 μg/m3 (i.e. 23 times higher) for longlife expositions at workplaces, based on thorough toxicologic studies. There is a high interest of environmental politicans to propagate such “bad news” (400.000 deaths/year in Europe) and the public media like such news. So the author, claming about this scenario, got the followimg answer from the German ministry of health (23 September 2020 09:02): Usual toxikologic and clinical studies, often used to confirm a causality, are not suitable answering such questiions (with reference to Bradfort Hill criteria [3]). Why biomatical epidemiologists work on year after year for such research? Perhaps political and public attention garantee good chances for successful third-party-funding and acquisition of impact scores, very favorable in the actual scientific business. So the author is interested to discuss these considerations for getting new insights.

Abstract. We have performed a three-year series of routine lidar measurements on a climatological base. To obtain an unbiased data set, the measurements were taken at preselected times. The measurements were performed between 1 December 1997, and 30 November 2000, at Kühlungsborn, Germany (54°07' N, 11°46' E). Using a Rayleigh/Mie/Raman lidar system, we measured the aerosol backscatter coefficients at three wavelengths in and above the planetary boundary layer. The aerosol extinction coefficient has been determined at 532 nm, but here the majority of the measurements has been restricted to heights above the boundary layer. Only after-sunset measurements are included in this data set since the Raman measurements were restricted to darkness. For the climatological analysis, we selected the cloud-free days out of a fixed measurement schedule. The annual cycle of the boundary layer height has been found to have a phase shift of about 25 days with respect to the summer/winter solstices. The mean values of the extinction and backscatter coefficients do not show significant annual differences. The backscatter coefficients in the planetary boundary layer were found to be about 10 times higher than above. The mean aerosol optical depth above the boundary layer and below 5 km is 0.26 (±1.0) x 10-2 in summer, and 1.5 (±0.95) x 10-2 in winter, which almost negligible compared to values measured in the boundary layer. A cluster analysis of the backward trajectories yielded two major directions of air mass origin above the planetary boundary layer and 4 major directions inside. A marked difference between the total aerosol load dependent on the air mass origin could be found for air masses originating from the west and travelling at high wind speeds. Comparing the measured spectral dependence of the backscatter coefficients with data from the Global Aerosol Data Set, we found a general agreement, but only a few conclusions with respect to the aerosol type could be draws due to the high variability of the measured backscatter coefficients.

Extensive operational performance data from the Siemens Power Generation V64.3 unit in Obernburg, Germany (operated by Kraftwerk Obernburg GmbH) is evaluated. The unit was commissioned in 1996 and has been running continuously in base load operation with fuel gas to supply heat and power to a nearby chemical plant. In rare cases, fuel oil is used as a backup fuel. During the first major outage after approximately 25,000 equivalent operating hours (EOH), the Siemens PG Advanced Compressor Cleaning System (ACCS) was implemented at Obernburg. ACCS features separate nozzle systems for online and offline compressor cleaning accounting for different operating conditions. For online cleaning, the droplet size is optimized for the droplets to remain in the main air flow in order to minimize erosion effects while providing a homogeneous field over the whole air intake. With reduced rotational speed during offline compressor cleaning, erosion is less critical. Offline nozzles therefore provide higher mass flow and larger droplets in order to maximize cleaning performance for all compressor stages. ACCS, in its maximum automated version, features operation from the control room, online-washing at low ambient temperatures (officially released down to −15 °C without GT anti-icing) and minimum use of manpower. The ACCS system in Obernburg was operated according to the recommended online washing procedure. By June 2002, the V64.3 unit in Obernburg reached 50,000 EOH and the second major inspection was carried out. For this paper, operational data from the second inspection intervals (24,350–49,658 EOH) and from three performance tests with calibrated equipment are compared in order to evaluate the effectiveness of the advanced compressor cleaning system. Statistical evaluation of single-wash performance recovery and the evolution of long-term performance are presented. The effects of degradation and fouling are differentiated. It is shown that ACCS has a significant benefit for long-term engine performance.

Abstract. European scale harmonized monitoring of atmospheric composition was initiated in the early 1970ies, and the activity has generated a comprehensive dataset which allows to evaluate regional and spatial trends of air pollution during a period of nearly 40 yr. Results from the monitoring made within EMEP, the European Monitoring and Evaluation Programme, show large reductions in ambient concentrations and deposition of sulphur species during the last decades. Reductions are in the order of 70–90% since the year 1980, and correspond well with reported emission changes. Also reduction in emissions of nitrogen oxides (NOx) are reflected in the measurements, with an average decrease of nitrogen dioxide and nitrate in precipitation by about 23% and 25% respectively since 1990. Only minor reductions are however seen since the late 1990ies. The concentrations of total nitrate in air have decreased on average only by 8% since 1990, and fewer sites show a significant trend. A majority of the EMEP sites show a decreasing trend in reduced nitrogen both in air and precipitation on the order of 25%. Deposition of base cations has decreased during the past 30 yr, and the pH in precipitation has increased across Europe. Large interannual variations in the particulate matter mass concentrations reflect meteorological variability, but still there is a relatively clear overall decrease at several sites during the last decade. With few observations going back to the 1990ies, the observed chemical composition is applied to document a change in particulate matter (PM) mass even since 1980. These data indicate an overall reduction of about 5 μg m−3 from sulphate alone. Long-term ozone trends at EMEP sites show a mixed pattern. The year-to-year variability in ozone due to varying meteorology is substantial, making it hard to separate the trends caused by reduced emissions from other effects. For the Nordic countries the data indicate a slight reduction in the number of very low values. The most pronounced change in the frequency distribution is seen at sites in the UK and the Netherlands, showing a reduction in the higher values. Smaller changes are seen in Germany, while in Switzerland and Austria, no change is seen in the frequency distribution of ozone. The lack of long-term data series is a major obstacle for studying trends in volatile organic compounds (VOC). The scatter in the data is large, and significant changes are only found for certain components and stations. Concentrations of the heavy metals lead and cadmium have decreased in both air and precipitation during the last 20 yr, with reductions in the order of 80–90% for Pb and 64–84% for Cd (precipitation and air respectively). The measurements of total gaseous mercury indicate a dramatic decrease in concentrations during 1980 to about 1993. Trends in hexachlorocyclohexanes (HCHs) show a significant decrease in annual average air concentrations. For other persistent organic pollutants (POPs) the patterns is mixed, and differs between sites and between measurements in air or precipitation.

Abstract. European scale harmonized monitoring of atmospheric composition was initiated in the early 1970s, and the activity has generated a comprehensive dataset (available at http://www.emep.int) which allows the evaluation of regional and spatial trends of air pollution during a period of nearly 40 yr. Results from the monitoring made within EMEP, the European Monitoring and Evaluation Programme, show large reductions in ambient concentrations and deposition of sulphur species during the last decades. Reductions are in the order of 70–90% since the year 1980, and correspond well with reported emission changes. Also reduction in emissions of nitrogen oxides (NOx) are reflected in the measurements, with an average decrease of nitrogen dioxide and nitrate in precipitation by about 23% and 25% respectively since 1990. Only minor reductions are however seen since the late 1990s. The concentrations of total nitrate in air have decreased on average only by 8% since 1990, and fewer sites show a significant trend. A majority of the EMEP sites show a decreasing trend in reduced nitrogen both in air and precipitation on the order of 25% since 1990. Deposition of base cations has decreased during the past 30 yr, and the pH in precipitation has increased across Europe. Large inter annual variations in the particulate matter mass concentrations reflect meteorological variability, but still there is a relatively clear overall decrease at several sites during the last decade. With few observations going back to the 1990s, the observed chemical composition is applied to document a change in particulate matter (PM) mass even since 1980. These data indicate an overall reduction of about 5 μg m−3 from sulphate alone. Despite the significant reductions in sulphur emissions, sulphate still remains one of the single most important compounds contributing to regional scale aerosol mass concentration. Long-term ozone trends at EMEP sites show a mixed pattern. The year-to-year variability in ozone due to varying meteorological conditions is substantial, making it hard to separate the trends caused by emission change from other effects. For the Nordic countries the data indicate a reduced occurrence of very low concentrations. The most pronounced change in the frequency distribution is seen at sites in the UK and the Netherlands, showing a reduction in the higher values. Smaller changes are seen in Germany, while in Switzerland and Austria, no change is seen in the frequency distribution of ozone. The lack of long-term data series is a major obstacle for studying trends in volatile organic compounds (VOC). The scatter in the data is large, and significant changes are only found for certain components and stations. Concentrations of the heavy metals lead and cadmium have decreased in both air and precipitation during the last 20 yr, with reductions in the order of 80–90% for Pb and 64–84% for Cd (precipitation and air respectively). The measurements of total gaseous mercury indicate a dramatic decrease in concentrations during 1980 to about 1993. Trends in hexachlorocyclohexanes (HCHs) show a significant decrease in annual average air concentrations. For other persistent organic pollutants (POPs) the patterns is mixed, and differs between sites and between measurements in air versus precipitation.

Bucket elevators are devices for the vertical conveying of bulk materials. They can be found in many plants where silos are used. There are different designs of bucket elevators, whereby for the conveying of combustible bulk materials twin-leg bucket elevators are widely used. The conveyed bulk materials might be quite different, e.g. granulates, grains or pellets, which can contain more or less fine dust. The fine dust will be whirled up and dispersed by the moving buckets. Explosive dust/air mixtures can occur inside the elevator. Bucket elevators are frequently reported as causes of dust explosions [1, 2]. Depending on both the practical operating conditions and the explosion characteristics of the bulk material in many cases explosion protection by prevention of ignition sources are not sufficient to minimize the risk of a dust explosion. Therefore, additional explosion protection by design measures is required in order to limit the dangerous effects of a dust explosion. The technical rules or standards, however, which are available for the layout of explosion protection by design measures, e.g. explosion pressure venting or explosion suppression can not be used due to the specific geometry of bucket elevators. Because there was no sufficient data base to design explosion resistant bucket elevators in combination with explosion venting or explosion suppression, large scale tests were carried out on the test site of BGN and FSA in Kappelrodeck, Germany. In this paper the latest results and findings will be presented which can be used for the practical design of explosion venting and explosion suppression on bucket elevators in process industries.

Abstract. Analysing the composition of ambient ultrafine particles (UFPs) is a challenging task due to the low mass and chemical complexity of small particles, yet it is a prerequisite for the identification of particle sources and the assessment of potential health risks. Here, we show the molecular characterization of UFPs, based on cascade impactor (Nano-MOUDI) samples that were collected at an air quality monitoring station near one of Europe's largest airports, in Frankfurt, Germany. At this station, particle-size-distribution measurements show an enhanced number concentration of particles smaller than 50 nm during airport operating hours. We sampled the lower UFP fraction (0.010–0.018, 0.018–0.032, 0.032–0.056 µm) when the air masses arrived from the airport. We developed an optimized filter extraction procedure using ultra-high-performance liquid chromatography (UHPLC) for compound separation and a heated electrospray ionization (HESI) source with an Orbitrap high-resolution mass spectrometer (HRMS) as a detector for organic compounds. A non-target screening detected ∼200 organic compounds in the UFP fraction with sample-to-blank ratios larger than 5. We identified the largest signals as homologous series of pentaerythritol esters (PEEs) and trimethylolpropane esters (TMPEs), which are base stocks of aircraft lubrication oils. We unambiguously attribute the majority of detected compounds to jet engine lubrication oils by matching retention times, high-resolution and accurate mass measurements, and comparing tandem mass spectrometry (MS2) fragmentation patterns between both ambient samples and commercially available jet oils. For each UFP stage, we created molecular fingerprints to visualize the complex chemical composition of the organic fraction and their average carbon oxidation state. These graphs underline the presence of the homologous series of PEEs and TMPEs and the appearance of jet oil additives (e.g. tricresyl phosphate, TCP). Targeted screening of TCP confirmed the absence of the harmful tri-ortho isomer, while we identified a thermal transformation product of TMPE-based lubrication oil (trimethylolpropane phosphate, TMP-P). Even though a quantitative determination of the identified compounds is limited, the presented method enables the qualitative detection of molecular markers for jet engine lubricants in UFPs and thus strongly improves the source apportionment of UFPs near airports.

Aim: The aim of this study is to investigate the correlation between selected variables of capillary blood gas (CBG) and Arterial blood gas (ABG)values for assessing values of pH, bicarbonate (HCO3), partial pressure of oxygen (pO2), partial pressure of carbon dioxide (pCO2) in patients with acute exacerbation of COPD presenting to the Emergency department of Peerless hospital. Our study on reliability of CBG over ABG is aimed to make blood gas analysis easier, quicker, less painful and equally reliable. Settings And Design: This was a prospective observational study carried out in a tertiary care centre in Kolkata. Materials And Methods: This study was carried out in Peerless hospital and B.K.Roy Research Centre, Kolkata over a period of 1 year. Total of 90 patients who presented to Emergency department with acute exacerbation of COPD patients were included in the study. Informed consent was taken from all the patients recruited in this study. The blood samples were drawn simultaneously from the radial artery by an arterial puncture into a heparinized syringe and the fingertip by a finger prick into a capillary tube of every patient participating in the study. Initially, capillary sample was collected and immediately after that, an arterial sample was taken from the radial artery in order to assess the agreement between the capillary and arterial samples. These samples obtained were analysed immediately by the blood gas analyser (AVL Compact 3, Roche Diagnostics GmbH, Mannheim, Germany) of the Emergency Department for values of acid-base and oxygenation: pH, PO2, PCO2and HCO3 values. Blood gases were obtained only if the patient needed blood gases analysis for clinical decisions. Care was taken to avoid exposing the blood droplet to air, and the arterial sample was continuously turned to avoid clotting. In addition, the measurement of oxygen saturation (SpO2) was also obtained from the finger pulse oximeter in the emergency (Noninvasive pulse oximeter).

Abstract. This study presents a comprehensive and critical assessment of the meteorological conditions and atmospheric flow during the Lagrangian-type "Hill Cap Cloud Thuringia 2010" experiment (HCCT-2010). HCCT-2010 was performed in September and October 2010 at Mt. Schmücke in the Thuringian forest, Germany, applying three measurements sites (upwind, in-cloud, downwind) to study physical and chemical aerosol-cloud-interactions. A Lagrangian-type hill cap cloud experiment requires suitable cloud and particularly connected airflow conditions, i.e. representative air masses at the different measurement sites. Therefore, the present study aimed at the identification of time periods during the 6-weeks duration of the campaign, where such conditions were fulfilled and which can be used in further data examinations. The following topics were studied in detail: (i) the general synoptic weather situations including the mesoscale flow conditions by means of a classification of advected air masses and calculation of non-dimensional flow parameters (e.g. Froude number), (ii) local meteorological conditions, including synoptic front passages, the presence of orographic or frontal cloudiness, cloud base heights and vertical stratification, and (iii) local flow conditions by means of statistical analyses using the quasi-inert trace gas ozone and selected size bins of particle number size distributions as well as SF6 tracer experiments in the campaign area. A comprehensive analyses using statistical measures such as the COD (Coefficient Of Divergence) and cross-correlation have been carried out for the first time in the context of a Lagrangian-type hill cap cloud experiment. Suitable criteria for the aimed statistical analyses were thus developed and applied in the present study to characterise the local flow connectivity in detail. The comprehensive examination resulted in a total of 14 so-called "Full Cloud Events" (FCE), which are shown to conform to the Lagrange-type experimental philosophy of HCCT-2010. In addition, 15 so-called "Non-Cloud Events" (NCEs) could be established, which can be used as reference cases as they provide similarly suitable flow conditions but no cloud at the summit site. Orographic cloudiness was identified for approx. one third of the FCE periods, while about two thirds were associated to synoptic fronts. The statistical flow analyses indicate the existence of a strong link between the sites during the events, particularly under constant south-westerly flow conditions, high wind speeds and slightly stable stratification. The COD analyses using continuously measured concentrations of ozone and the 49 nm diameter particle bin revealed particularly for COD values below 0.1 very consistent time series, i.e. closely linked air masses between the different sites. The cross-correlation analysis revealed under connected flow conditions typical overflow times of about 15 to 30 min between the two valley sites. Additionally, the performed SF6 tracer experiments during the campaign clearly demonstrate that under appropriate meteorological conditions a Lagrangian-type approach is valid and that the connected flow validation procedure developed in this work is suitable for identifying such conditions. Finally, an overall evaluation of the identified FCEs is presented, which provides the basis for subsequent investigations of the measured chemical and physical data during HCCT-2010.

Abstract Introduction: Anaphylactic reactions can lead to a life-threatening situation. In the event of anaphylaxis, rapid and targeted emergency treatment is indicated. Study Objective: The study sought to determine the emergency therapy administered for anaphylaxis in children and adults. Focus was placed on therapy with adrenaline. In addition, the study aimed to investigate demographic data, triggers, and hospitalization rates of the different severities of anaphylaxis. Methods: A retrospective analysis of anaphylactic reactions was conducted using data from prehospital emergency missions performed by the Air Rescue Dresden/Germany from 2008 through 2015 using the standardized application protocol EPRO-5.0 (MIND 3) anonymized. Data from 152 adults and 29 children were evaluated, focusing especially on the acute treatment as well as demographic information, triggers, and symptoms of anaphylactic reactions. Results: In total, 152 adults (73 female, 79 male) from 18 to 87 years (mean 50.5 years) and 29 children (9 female, 20 male) from 1 to 16 years (mean 7.5 years) with anaphylactic reactions were analyzed. The most common trigger for severe anaphylactic reactions (Grade II-IV; classification modified according to Ring and Messmer) was food in children (33%) and insect venom in adults (59%). The data show that 19% of adults with Grade II-IV anaphylactic reactions (classification modified according to Ring and Messmer) received adrenaline. Regarding children, the appliance of adrenaline was only administered in seven percent of the cases of Grade II-IV anaphylactic reactions. Adults with Grade II or higher anaphylactic reactions were hospitalized in 92%. Three percent refused hospitalization and five percent were not transferred to hospital. One-hundred percent of the children with Grade II-IV anaphylaxis were hospitalized. Conclusions: Analysis of data from the Air Rescue Dresden/Germany shows that despite existing recommendations, only 19% of adults with severe anaphylaxis received adrenaline. Among children, only in seven percent was a treatment with adrenaline performed. On the other hand, all patients survived the acute emergency treatment without apparent adverse outcomes. Thus, further studies are needed to determine the proper use of adrenaline in anaphylactic reactions.

In response to environmental problems such as air pollution in cities and climate change in general, passenger car and other motorized vehicle, manufacturers have started to produce new sustainable driving mechanisms. Electric car sales have been increasing in countries such as China, Germany and the United States. However, customers in Thailand seem reluctant to embrace various types of electric vehicles (EVs), including battery EVs, hybrid EVs and plug-in hybrid EVs. Focusing on Thailand, this study aims to investigate the key factors that influence young-adult consumers’ purchasing intentions regarding EVs. It applies the political, economic, social and technological factors analysis model as a conceptual framework to analyse how governmental subsidies, purchase price, environmental consciousness, and charging infrastructure influence young people to buy EVs. The sample size consists of 195 young adults, most of whom were master’s degree students living in Bangkok. Data collection was conducted by self-administered printed questionnaires. The result (analysed by ordinary least squares regression) shows that purchase price and environmental consciousness are crucial factors that influence consumers’ purchasing intention. Governmental subsidies and insufficient charging infrastructure do not have a significant relationship with willingness to buy EVs. Vehicle manufacturers need to lower the initial purchase price to make their vehicles more attractive for a younger customer base. Furthermore, government institutions need to promote the positive impact on the environment of new sustainable driving technologies.

1. Guy Debord in the Land of the Long WeekendIt’s the weekend – leisure time. It’s the interlude when, Guy Debord contends, the proletarian is briefly free of the “total contempt so clearly built into every aspect of the organization and management of production” in commodity capitalism; when workers are temporarily “treated like grown-ups, with a great show of solicitude and politeness, in their new role as consumers.” But this patronising show turns out to be another form of subjection to the diktats of “political economy”: “the totality of human existence falls under the regime of the ‘perfected denial of man’.” (30). As Debord suggests, even the creation of leisure time and space is predicated upon a form of contempt: the “perfected denial” of who we, as living people, really are in the eyes of those who presume the power to legislate our working practices and private identities.This Saturday The Weekend Australian runs an opinion piece by Christopher Pearson, defending ABC Radio National’s Stephen Crittenden, whose program The Religion Report has been axed. “Some of Crittenden’s finest half-hours have been devoted to Islam in Australia in the wake of September 11,” Pearson writes. “Again and again he’s confronted a left-of-centre audience that expected multi-cultural pieties with disturbing assertions.” Along the way in this admirable Crusade, Pearson notes that Crittenden has exposed “the Left’s recent tendency to ally itself with Islam.” According to Pearson, Crittenden has also thankfully given oxygen to claims by James Cook University’s Mervyn Bendle, the “fairly conservative academic whose work sometimes appears in [these] pages,” that “the discipline of critical terrorism studies has been captured by neo-Marxists of a postmodern bent” (30). Both of these points are well beyond misunderstanding or untested proposition. If Pearson means them sincerely he should be embarrassed and sacked. But of course he does not and will not be. These are deliberate lies, the confabulations of an eminent right-wing culture warrior whose job is to vilify minorities and intellectuals (Bendle escapes censure as an academic because he occasionally scribbles for the Murdoch press). It should be observed, too, how the patent absurdity of Pearson’s remarks reveals the extent to which he holds the intelligence of his readers in contempt. And he is not original in peddling these toxic wares.In their insightful—often hilarious—study of Australian opinion writers, The War on Democracy, Niall Lucy and Steve Mickler identify the left-academic-Islam nexus as the brain-child of former Treasurer-cum-memoirist Peter Costello. The germinal moment was “a speech to the Australian American Leadership Dialogue forum at the Art Gallery of NSW in 2005” concerning anti-Americanism in Australian schools. Lucy and Mickler argue that “it was only a matter of time” before a conservative politician or journalist took the plunge to link the left and terrorism, and Costello plunged brilliantly. He drew a mental map of the Great Chain of Being: left-wing academics taught teacher trainees to be anti-American; teacher trainees became teachers and taught kids to be anti-American; anti-Americanism morphs into anti-Westernism; anti-Westernism veers into terrorism (38). This is contempt for the reasoning capacity of the Australian people and, further still, contempt for any observable reality. Not for nothing was Costello generally perceived by the public as a politician whose very physiognomy radiated smugness and contempt.Recycling Costello, Christopher Pearson’s article subtly interpellates the reader as an ordinary, common-sense individual who instinctively feels what’s right and has no need to think too much—thinking too much is the prerogative of “neo-Marxists” and postmodernists. Ultimately, Pearson’s article is about channelling outrage: directing the down-to-earth passions of the Australian people against stock-in-trade culture-war hate figures. And in Pearson’s paranoid world, words like “neo-Marxist” and “postmodern” are devoid of historical or intellectual meaning. They are, as Lucy and Mickler’s War on Democracy repeatedly demonstrate, mere ciphers packed with the baggage of contempt for independent critical thought itself.Contempt is everywhere this weekend. The Weekend Australian’s colour magazine runs a feature story on Malcolm Turnbull: one of those familiar profiles designed to reveal the everyday human touch of the political classes. In this puff-piece, Jennifer Hewett finds Turnbull has “a restless passion for participating in public life” (20); that beneath “the aggressive political rhetoric […] behind the journalist turned lawyer turned banker turned politician turned would-be prime minister is a man who really enjoys that human interaction, however brief, with the many, many ordinary people he encounters” (16). Given all this energetic turning, it’s a wonder that Turnbull has time for human interactions at all. The distinction here of Turnbull and “many, many ordinary people” – the anonymous masses – surely runs counter to Hewett’s brief to personalise and quotidianise him. Likewise, those two key words, “however brief”, have an unfortunate, unintended effect. Presumably meant to conjure a picture of Turnbull’s hectic schedules and serial turnings, the words also convey the image of a patrician who begrudgingly knows one of the costs of a political career is that common flesh must be pressed—but as gingerly as possible.Hewett proceeds to disclose that Turnbull is “no conservative cultural warrior”, “onfounds stereotypes” and “hates labels” (like any baby-boomer rebel) and “has always read widely on political philosophy—his favourite is Edmund Burke”. He sees the “role of the state above all as enabling people to do their best” but knows that “the main game is the economy” and is “content to play mainstream gesture politics” (19). I am genuinely puzzled by this and imagine that my intelligence is being held in contempt once again. That the man of substance is given to populist gesturing is problematic enough; but that the Burke fan believes the state is about personal empowerment is just too much. Maybe Turnbull is a fan of Burke’s complex writings on the sublime and the beautiful—but no, Hewett avers, Turnbull is engaged by Burke’s “political philosophy”. So what is it in Burke that Turnbull finds to favour?Turnbull’s invocation of Edmund Burke is empty, gestural and contradictory. The comfortable notion that the state helps people to realise their potential is contravened by Burke’s view that the state functions so “the inclinations of men should frequently be thwarted, their will controlled, and their passions brought into subjection… by a power out of themselves” (151). Nor does Burke believe that anyone of humble origins could or should rise to the top of the social heap: “The occupation of an hair-dresser, or of a working tallow-chandler, cannot be a matter of honour to any person… the state suffers oppression, if such as they, either individually or collectively, are permitted to rule” (138).If Turnbull’s main game as a would-be statesman is the economy, Burke profoundly disagrees: “the state ought not to be considered as nothing better than a partnership agreement in a trade of pepper and coffee, callico or tobacco, or some other such low concern… It is a partnership in all science; a partnership in all art; a partnership in every virtue, and in all perfection”—a sublime entity, not an economic manager (194). Burke understands, long before Antonio Gramsci or Louis Althusser, that individuals or social fractions must be made admirably “obedient” to the state “by consent or force” (195). Burke has a verdict on mainstream gesture politics too: “When men of rank sacrifice all ideas of dignity to an ambition without a distinct object, and work with low instruments and for low ends, the whole composition [of the state] becomes low and base” (136).Is Malcolm Turnbull so contemptuous of the public that he assumes nobody will notice the gross discrepancies between his own ideals and what Burke stands for? His invocation of Burke is, indeed, “mainstream gesture politics”: on one level, “Burke” signifies nothing more than Turnbull’s performance of himself as a deep thinker. In this process, the real Edmund Burke is historically erased; reduced to the status of stage-prop in the theatrical production of Turnbull’s mass-mediated identity. “Edmund Burke” is re-invented as a term in an aesthetic repertoire.This transmutation of knowledge and history into mere cipher is the staple trick of culture-war discourse. Jennifer Hewett casts Turnbull as “no conservative culture warrior”, but he certainly shows a facility with culture-war rhetoric. And as much as Turnbull “confounds stereotypes” his verbal gesture to Edmund Burke entrenches a stereotype: at another level, the incantation “Edmund Burke” is implicitly meant to connect Turnbull with conservative tradition—in the exact way that John Howard regularly self-nominated as a “Burkean conservative”.This appeal to tradition effectively places “the people” in a power relation. Tradition has a sublimity that is bigger than us; it precedes us and will outlast us. Consequently, for a politician to claim that tradition has fashioned him, that he is welded to it or perhaps even owns it as part of his heritage, is to glibly imply an authority greater than that of “the many, many ordinary people”—Burke’s hair-dressers and tallow-chandlers—whose company he so briefly enjoys.In The Ideology of the Aesthetic, Terry Eagleton assesses one of Burke’s important legacies, placing him beside another eighteenth-century thinker so loved by the right—Adam Smith. Ideology of the Aesthetic is premised on the view that “Aesthetics is born as a discourse of the body”; that the aesthetic gives form to the “primitive materialism” of human passions and organises “the whole of our sensate life together… a society’s somatic, sensational life” (13). Reading Smith’s Theory of Moral Sentiments, Eagleton discerns that society appears as “an immense machine, whose regular and harmonious movements produce a thousand agreeable effects”, like “any production of human art”. In Smith’s work, the “whole of social life is aestheticized” and people inhabit “a social order so spontaneously cohesive that its members no longer need to think about it.” In Burke, Eagleton discovers that the aesthetics of “manners” can be understood in terms of Gramscian hegemony: “in the aesthetics of social conduct, or ‘culture’ as it would later be called, the law is always with us, as the very unconscious structure of our life”, and as a result conformity to a dominant ideological order is deeply felt as pleasurable and beautiful (37, 42). When this conservative aesthetic enters the realm of politics, Eagleton contends, the “right turn, from Burke” onwards follows a dark trajectory: “forget about theoretical analysis… view society as a self-grounding organism, all of whose parts miraculously interpenetrate without conflict and require no rational justification. Think with the blood and the body. Remember that tradition is always wiser and richer than one’s own poor, pitiable ego. It is this line of descent, in one of its tributaries, which will lead to the Third Reich” (368–9).2. Jean Baudrillard, the Nazis and Public MemoryIn 1937, during the Spanish Civil War, the Third Reich’s Condor Legion of the Luftwaffe was on loan to Franco’s forces. On 26 April that year, the Condor Legion bombed the market-town of Guernica: the first deliberate attempt to obliterate an entire town from the air and the first experiment in what became known as “terror bombing”—the targeting of civilians. A legacy of this violence was Pablo Picasso’s monumental canvas Guernica – the best-known anti-war painting in art history.When US Secretary of State Colin Powell addressed the United Nations on 5 February 2003 to make the case for war on Iraq, he stopped to face the press in the UN building’s lobby. The doorstop was globally televised, packaged as a moment of incredible significance: history in the making. It was also theatre: a moment in which history was staged as “event” and the real traces of history were carefully erased. Millions of viewers world-wide were undoubtedly unaware that the blue backdrop before which Powell stood was specifically designed to cover the full-scale tapestry copy of Picasso’s Guernica. This one-act, agitprop drama was a splendid example of politics as aesthetic action: a “performance” of history in the making which required the loss of actual historical memory enshrined in Guernica. Powell’s performance took its cues from the culture wars, which require the ceaseless erasure of history and public memory—on this occasion enacted on a breathtaking global, rather than national, scale.Inside the UN chamber, Powell’s performance was equally staged-crafted. As he brandished vials of ersatz anthrax, the power-point behind him (the theatrical set) showed artists’ impressions of imaginary mobile chemical weapons laboratories. Powell was playing lead role in a kind of populist, hyperreal production. It was Jean Baudrillard’s postmodernism, no less, as the media space in which Powell acted out the drama was not a secondary representation of reality but a reality of its own; the overheads of mobile weapons labs were simulacra, “models of a real without origins or reality”, pictures referring to nothing but themselves (2). In short, Powell’s performance was anchored in a “semiurgic” aesthetic; and it was a dreadful real-life enactment of Walter Benjamin’s maxim that “All efforts to render politics aesthetic culminate in one thing: war” (241).For Benjamin, “Fascism attempts to organize the newly created proletarian masses without affecting the property structure which the masses strive to eliminate.” Fascism gave “these masses not their right, but instead a chance to express themselves.” In turn, this required “the introduction of aesthetics into politics”, the objective of which was “the production of ritual values” (241). Under Adolf Hitler’s Reich, people were able to express themselves but only via the rehearsal of officially produced ritual values: by their participation in the disquisition on what Germany meant and what it meant to be German, by the aesthetic regulation of their passions. As Frederic Spotts’ fine study Hitler and the Power of Aesthetics reveals, this passionate disquisition permeated public and private life, through the artfully constructed total field of national narratives, myths, symbols and iconographies. And the ritualistic reiteration of national values in Nazi Germany hinged on two things: contempt and memory loss.By April 1945, as Berlin fell, Hitler’s contempt for the German people was at its apogee. Hitler ordered a scorched earth operation: the destruction of everything from factories to farms to food stores. The Russians would get nothing, the German people would perish. Albert Speer refused to implement the plan and remembered that “Until then… Germany and Hitler had been synonymous in my mind. But now I saw two entities opposed… A passionate love of one’s country… a leader who seemed to hate his people” (Sereny 472). But Hitler’s contempt for the German people was betrayed in the blusterous pages of Mein Kampf years earlier: “The receptivity of the great masses is very limited, their intelligence is small, but their power of forgetting is enormous” (165). On the back of this belief, Hitler launched what today would be called a culture war, with its Jewish folk devils, loathsome Marxist intellectuals, incitement of popular passions, invented traditions, historical erasures and constant iteration of values.When Theodor Adorno and Max Horkheimer fled Fascism, landing in the United States, their view of capitalist democracy borrowed from Benjamin and anticipated both Baudrillard and Guy Debord. In their well-know essay on “The Culture Industry”, in Dialectic of Enlightenment, they applied Benjamin’s insight on mass self-expression and the maintenance of property relations and ritual values to American popular culture: “All are free to dance and enjoy themselves”, but the freedom to choose how to do so “proves to be the freedom to choose what is always the same”, manufactured by monopoly capital (161–162). Anticipating Baudrillard, they found a society in which “only the copy appears: in the movie theatre, the photograph; on the radio, the recording” (143). And anticipating Debord’s “perfected denial of man” they found a society where work and leisure were structured by the repetition-compulsion principles of capitalism: where people became consumers who appeared “s statistics on research organization charts” (123). “Culture” came to do people’s thinking for them: “Pleasure always means not to think about anything, to forget suffering even where it is shown” (144).In this mass-mediated environment, a culture of repetitions, simulacra, billboards and flickering screens, Adorno and Horkheimer concluded that language lost its historical anchorages: “Innumerable people use words and expressions which they have either ceased to understand or employ only because they trigger off conditioned reflexes” in precisely the same way that the illusory “free” expression of passions in Germany operated, where words were “debased by the Fascist pseudo-folk community” (166).I know that the turf of the culture wars, the US and Australia, are not Fascist states; and I know that “the first one to mention the Nazis loses the argument”. I know, too, that there are obvious shortcomings in Adorno and Horkheimer’s reactions to popular culture and these have been widely criticised. However, I would suggest that there is a great deal of value still in Frankfurt School analyses of what we might call the “authoritarian popular” which can be applied to the conservative prosecution of populist culture wars today. Think, for example, how the concept of a “pseudo folk community” might well describe the earthy, common-sense public constructed and interpellated by right-wing culture warriors: America’s Joe Six-Pack, John Howard’s battlers or Kevin Rudd’s working families.In fact, Adorno and Horkheimer’s observations on language go to the heart of a contemporary culture war strategy. Words lose their history, becoming ciphers and “triggers” in a politicised lexicon. Later, Roland Barthes would write that this is a form of myth-making: “myth is constituted by the loss of the historical quality of things.” Barthes reasoned further that “Bourgeois ideology continuously transforms the products of history into essential types”, generating a “cultural logic” and an ideological re-ordering of the world (142). Types such as “neo-Marxist”, “postmodernist” and “Burkean conservative”.Surely, Benjamin’s assessment that Fascism gives “the people” the occasion to express itself, but only through “values”, describes the right’s pernicious incitement of the mythic “dispossessed mainstream” to reclaim its voice: to shout down the noisy minorities—the gays, greenies, blacks, feminists, multiculturalists and neo-Marxist postmodernists—who’ve apparently been running the show. Even more telling, Benjamin’s insight that the incitement to self-expression is connected to the maintenance of property relations, to economic power, is crucial to understanding the contemptuous conduct of culture wars.3. Jesus Dunked in Urine from Kansas to CronullaAmerican commentator Thomas Frank bases his study What’s the Matter with Kansas? on this very point. Subtitled How Conservatives Won the Heart of America, Frank’s book is a striking analysis of the indexation of Chicago School free-market reform and the mobilisation of “explosive social issues—summoning public outrage over everything from busing to un-Christian art—which it then marries to pro-business policies”; but it is the “economic achievements” of free-market capitalism, “not the forgettable skirmishes of the never-ending culture wars” that are conservatism’s “greatest monuments.” Nevertheless, the culture wars are necessary as Chicago School economic thinking consigns American communities to the rust belt. The promise of “free-market miracles” fails ordinary Americans, Frank reasons, leaving them in “backlash” mode: angry, bewildered and broke. And in this context, culture wars are a convenient form of anger management: “Because some artist decides to shock the hicks by dunking Jesus in urine, the entire planet must remake itself along the lines preferred” by nationalist, populist moralism and free-market fundamentalism (5).When John Howard received the neo-conservative American Enterprise Institute’s Irving Kristol Award, on 6 March 2008, he gave a speech in Washington titled “Sharing Our Common Values”. The nub of the speech was Howard’s revelation that he understood the index of neo-liberal economics and culture wars precisely as Thomas Frank does. Howard told the AEI audience that under his prime ministership Australia had “pursued reform and further modernisation of our economy” and that this inevitably meant “dislocation for communities”. This “reform-dislocation” package needed the palliative of a culture war, with his government preaching the “consistency and reassurance” of “our nation’s traditional values… pride in her history”; his government “became assertive about the intrinsic worth of our national identity. In the process we ended the seemingly endless seminar about that identity which had been in progress for some years.” Howard’s boast that his government ended the “seminar” on national identity insinuates an important point. “Seminar” is a culture-war cipher for intellection, just as “pride” is code for passion; so Howard’s self-proclaimed achievement, in Terry Eagleton’s terms, was to valorise “the blood and the body” over “theoretical analysis”. This speaks stratospheric contempt: ordinary people have their identity fashioned for them; they need not think about it, only feel it deeply and passionately according to “ritual values”. Undoubtedly this paved the way to Cronulla.The rubric of Howard’s speech—“Sharing Our Common Values”—was both a homage to international neo-conservatism and a reminder that culture wars are a trans-national phenomenon. In his address, Howard said that in all his “years in politics” he had not heard a “more evocative political slogan” than Ronald Reagan’s “Morning in America”—the rhetorical catch-cry for moral re-awakening that launched the culture wars. According to Lawrence Grossberg, America’s culture wars were predicated on the perception that the nation was afflicted by “a crisis of our lack of passion, of not caring enough about the values we hold… a crisis of nihilism which, while not restructuring our ideological beliefs, has undermined our ability to organise effective action on their behalf”; and this “New Right” alarmism “operates in the conjuncture of economics and popular culture” and “a popular struggle by which culture can lead politics” in the passionate pursuit of ritual values (31–2). When popular culture leads politics in this way we are in the zone of the image, myth and Adorno and Horkheimer’s “trigger words” that have lost their history. In this context, McKenzie Wark observes that “radical writers influenced by Marx will see the idea of culture as compensation for a fragmented and alienated life as a con. Guy Debord, perhaps the last of the great revolutionary thinkers of Europe, will call it “the spectacle”’ (20). Adorno and Horkheimer might well have called it “the authoritarian popular”. As Jonathan Charteris-Black’s work capably demonstrates, all politicians have their own idiolect: their personally coded language, preferred narratives and myths; their own vision of who “the people” might or should be that is conjured in their words. But the language of the culture wars is different. It is not a personal idiolect. It is a shared vocabulary, a networked vernacular, a pervasive trans-national aesthetic that pivots on the fact that words like “neo-Marxist”, “postmodern” and “Edmund Burke” have no historical or intellectual context or content: they exist as the ciphers of “values”. And the fact that culture warriors continually mouth them is a supreme act of contempt: it robs the public of its memory. And that’s why, as Lucy and Mickler’s War on Democracy so wittily argues, if there are any postmodernists left they’ll be on the right.Benjamin, Adorno, Horkheimer and, later, Debord and Grossberg understood how the political activation of the popular constitutes a hegemonic project. The result is nothing short of persuading “the people” to collaborate in its own oppression. The activation of the popular is perfectly geared to an age where the main stage of political life is the mainstream media; an age in which, Charteris-Black notes, political classes assume the general antipathy of publics to social change and act on the principle that the most effective political messages are sold to “the people” by an appeal “to familiar experiences”—market populism (10). In her substantial study The Persuaders, Sally Young cites an Australian Labor Party survey, conducted by pollster Rod Cameron in the late 1970s, in which the party’s message machine was finely tuned to this populist position. The survey also dripped with contempt for ordinary people: their “Interest in political philosophy… is very low… They are essentially the products (and supporters) of mass market commercialism”. Young observes that this view of “the people” was the foundation of a new order of political advertising and the conduct of politics on the mass-media stage. Cameron’s profile of “ordinary people” went on to assert that they are fatally attracted to “a moderate leader who is strong… but can understand and represent their value system” (47): a prescription for populist discourse which begs the question of whether the values a politician or party represent via the media are ever really those of “the people”. More likely, people are hegemonised into a value system which they take to be theirs. Writing of the media side of the equation, David Salter raises the point that when media “moguls thunder about ‘the public interest’ what they really mean is ‘what we think the public is interested in”, which is quite another matter… Why this self-serving deception is still so sheepishly accepted by the same public it is so often used to violate remains a mystery” (40).Sally Young’s Persuaders retails a story that she sees as “symbolic” of the new world of mass-mediated political life. The story concerns Mark Latham and his “revolutionary” journeys to regional Australia to meet the people. “When a political leader who holds a public meeting is dubbed a ‘revolutionary’”, Young rightly observes, “something has gone seriously wrong”. She notes how Latham’s “use of old-fashioned ‘meet-and-greet’campaigning methods was seen as a breath of fresh air because it was unlike the type of packaged, stage-managed and media-dependent politics that have become the norm in Australia.” Except that it wasn’t. “A media pack of thirty journalists trailed Latham in a bus”, meaning, that he was not meeting the people at all (6–7). He was traducing the people as participants in a media spectacle, as his “meet and greet” was designed to fill the image-banks of print and electronic media. Even meeting the people becomes a media pseudo-event in which the people impersonate the people for the camera’s benefit; a spectacle as artfully deceitful as Colin Powell’s UN performance on Iraq.If the success of this kind of “self-serving deception” is a mystery to David Salter, it would not be so to the Frankfurt School. For them, an understanding of the processes of mass-mediated politics sits somewhere near the core of their analysis of the culture industries in the “democratic” world. I think the Frankfurt school should be restored to a more important role in the project of cultural studies. Apart from an aversion to jazz and other supposedly “elitist” heresies, thinkers like Adorno, Benjamin, Horkheimer and their progeny Debord have a functional claim to provide the theory for us to expose the machinations of the politics of contempt and its aesthetic ruses.ReferencesAdorno, Theodor and Max Horkheimer. "The Culture Industry: Enlightenment as Mass Deception." Dialectic of Enlightenment. London: Verso, 1979. 120–167.Barthes Roland. “Myth Today.” Mythologies. Trans. Annette Lavers. St Albans: Paladin, 1972. 109–58.Baudrillard, Jean. Simulations. New York: Semiotext(e), 1983.Benjamin, Walter. “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction.” Illuminations. Ed. Hannah Arendt. Trans. Harry Zorn. New York: Schocken Books, 1969. 217–251.Burke, Edmund. Reflections on the Revolution in France. Ed. Conor Cruise O’Brien. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1969.Charteris-Black, Jonathan. Politicians and Rhetoric: The Persuasive Power of Metaphor. Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006.Debord, Guy. The Society of the Spectacle. Trans. Donald Nicholson-Smith. New York: Zone Books, 1994.Eagleton, Terry. The Ideology of the Aesthetic. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1990.Frank, Thomas. What’s the Matter with Kansas?: How Conservatives Won the Heart of America. New York: Henry Holt and Company, 2004.Grossberg, Lawrence. “It’s a Sin: Politics, Post-Modernity and the Popular.” It’s a Sin: Essays on Postmodern Politics & Culture. Eds. Tony Fry, Ann Curthoys and Paul Patton. Sydney: Power Publications, 1988. 6–71.Hewett, Jennifer. “The Opportunist.” The Weekend Australian Magazine. 25–26 October 2008. 16–22.Hitler, Adolf. Mein Kampf. Trans. Ralph Manheim. London: Pimlico, 1993.Howard, John. “Sharing Our Common Values.” Washington: Irving Kristol Lecture, American Enterprise Institute. 5 March 2008. ‹http://www.theaustralian.news.com.au/story/0,25197,233328945-5014047,00html›.Lucy, Niall and Steve Mickler. The War on Democracy: Conservative Opinion in the Australian Press. Crawley: University of Western Australia Press, 2006.Pearson, Christopher. “Pray for Sense to Prevail.” The Weekend Australian. 25–26 October 2008. 30.Salter, David. The Media We Deserve: Underachievement in the Fourth Estate. Melbourne: Melbourne UP, 2007. Sereny, Gitta. Albert Speer: His Battle with Truth. London: Picador, 1996.Spotts, Frederic. Hitler and the Power of Aesthetics. London: Pimlico, 2003.Wark, McKenzie. The Virtual Republic: Australia’s Culture Wars of the 1990s. St Leonards: Allen & Unwin, 1997.Young, Sally. The Persuaders: Inside the Hidden Machine of Political Advertising. Melbourne: Pluto Press, 2004.

From elephants to ABBA fans, silicon to hormone, the following discussion uses a new research method to look at printed text, motion pictures and a teenage rebel icon. If by ‘print’ we mean a mechanically reproduced impression of a cultural symbol in a medium, then printing has been with us since before microdot security prints were painted onto cars, before voice prints, laser prints, network servers, record pressings, motion picture prints, photo prints, colour woodblock prints, before books, textile prints, and footprints. If we accept that higher mammals such as elephants have a learnt culture, then it is possible to extend a definition of printing beyond Homo sapiens. Poole reports that elephants mechanically trumpet reproductions of human car horns into the air surrounding their society. If nothing else, this cross-species, cross-cultural reproduction, this ‘ability to mimic’ is ‘another sign of their intelligence’. Observation of child development suggests that the first significant meaningful ‘impression’ made on the human mind is that of the face of the child’s nurturer – usually its mother. The baby’s mind forms an ‘impression’, a mental print, a reproducible memory data set, of the nurturer’s face, voice, smell, touch, etc. That face is itself a cultural construct: hair style, makeup, piercings, tattoos, ornaments, nutrition-influenced skin and smell, perfume, temperature and voice. A mentally reproducible pattern of a unique face is formed in the mind, and we use that pattern to distinguish ‘familiar and strange’ in our expanding social orbit. The social relations of patterned memory – of imprinting – determine the extent to which we explore our world (armed with research aids such as text print) or whether we turn to violence or self-harm (Bretherton). While our cultural artifacts (such as vellum maps or networked voice message servers) bravely extend our significant patterns into the social world and the traversed environment, it is useful to remember that such artifacts, including print, are themselves understood by our original pattern-reproduction and impression system – the human mind, developed in childhood. The ‘print’ is brought to mind differently in different discourses. For a reader, a ‘print’ is a book, a memo or a broadsheet, whether it is the Indian Buddhist Sanskrit texts ordered to be printed in 593 AD by the Chinese emperor Sui Wen-ti (Silk Road) or the US Defense Department memo authorizing lower ranks to torture the prisoners taken by the Bush administration (Sanchez, cited in ABC). Other fields see prints differently. For a musician, a ‘print’ may be the sheet music which spread classical and popular music around the world; it may be a ‘record’ (as in a ‘recording’ session), where sound is impressed to wax, vinyl, charged silicon particles, or the alloys (Smith, “Elpida”) of an mp3 file. For the fine artist, a ‘print’ may be any mechanically reproduced two-dimensional (or embossed) impression of a significant image in media from paper to metal, textile to ceramics. ‘Print’ embraces the Japanese Ukiyo-e colour prints of Utamaro, the company logos that wink from credit card holographs, the early photographs of Talbot, and the textured patterns printed into neolithic ceramics. Computer hardware engineers print computational circuits. Homicide detectives investigate both sweaty finger prints and the repeated, mechanical gaits of suspects, which are imprinted into the earthy medium of a crime scene. For film makers, the ‘print’ may refer to a photochemical polyester reproduction of a motion picture artifact (the reel of ‘celluloid’), or a DVD laser disc impression of the same film. Textualist discourse has borrowed the word ‘print’ to mean ‘text’, so ‘print’ may also refer to the text elements within the vision track of a motion picture: the film’s opening titles, or texts photographed inside the motion picture story such as the sword-cut ‘Z’ in Zorro (Niblo). Before the invention of writing, the main mechanically reproduced impression of a cultural symbol in a medium was the humble footprint in the sand. The footprints of tribes – and neighbouring animals – cut tracks in the vegetation and the soil. Printed tracks led towards food, water, shelter, enemies and friends. Having learnt to pattern certain faces into their mental world, children grew older and were educated in the footprints of family and clan, enemies and food. The continuous impression of significant foot traffic in the medium of the earth produced the lines between significant nodes of prewriting and pre-wheeled cultures. These tracks were married to audio tracks, such as the song lines of the Australian Aborigines, or the ballads of tramping culture everywhere. A typical tramping song has the line, ‘There’s a track winding back to an old-fashion shack along the road to Gundagai,’ (O’Hagan), although this colonial-style song was actually written for radio and became an international hit on the airwaves, rather than the tramping trails. The printed tracks impressed by these cultural flows are highly contested and diverse, and their foot prints are woven into our very language. The names for printed tracks have entered our shared memory from the intersection of many cultures: ‘Track’ is a Germanic word entering English usage comparatively late (1470) and now used mainly in audio visual cultural reproduction, as in ‘soundtrack’. ‘Trek’ is a Dutch word for ‘track’ now used mainly by ecotourists and science fiction fans. ‘Learn’ is a Proto-Indo-European word: the verb ‘learn’ originally meant ‘to find a track’ back in the days when ‘learn’ had a noun form which meant ‘the sole of the foot’. ‘Tract’ and ‘trace’ are Latin words entering English print usage before 1374 and now used mainly in religious, and electronic surveillance, cultural reproduction. ‘Trench’ in 1386 was a French path cut through a forest. ‘Sagacity’ in English print in 1548 was originally the ability to track or hunt, in Proto-Indo-European cultures. ‘Career’ (in English before 1534) was the print made by chariots in ancient Rome. ‘Sleuth’ (1200) was a Norse noun for a track. ‘Investigation’ (1436) was Latin for studying a footprint (Harper). The arrival of symbolic writing scratched on caves, hearth stones, and trees (the original meaning of ‘book’ is tree), brought extremely limited text education close to home. Then, with baked clay tablets, incised boards, slate, bamboo, tortoise shell, cast metal, bark cloth, textiles, vellum, and – later – paper, a portability came to text that allowed any culture to venture away from known ‘foot’ paths with a reduction in the risk of becoming lost and perishing. So began the world of maps, memos, bills of sale, philosophic treatises and epic mythologies. Some of this was printed, such as the mechanical reproduction of coins, but the fine handwriting required of long, extended, portable texts could not be printed until the invention of paper in China about 2000 years ago. Compared to lithic architecture and genes, portable text is a fragile medium, and little survives from the millennia of its innovators. The printing of large non-text designs onto bark-paper and textiles began in neolithic times, but Sui Wen-ti’s imperial memo of 593 AD gives us the earliest written date for printed books, although we can assume they had been published for many years previously. The printed book was a combination of Indian philosophic thought, wood carving, ink chemistry and Chinese paper. The earliest surviving fragment of paper-print technology is ‘Mantras of the Dharani Sutra’, a Buddhist scripture written in the Sanskrit language of the Indian subcontinent, unearthed at an early Tang Dynasty site in Xian, China – making the fragment a veteran piece of printing, in the sense that Sanskrit books had been in print for at least a century by the early Tang Dynasty (Chinese Graphic Arts Net). At first, paper books were printed with page-size carved wooden boards. Five hundred years later, Pi Sheng (c.1041) baked individual reusable ceramic characters in a fire and invented the durable moveable type of modern printing (Silk Road 2000). Abandoning carved wooden tablets, the ‘digitizing’ of Chinese moveable type sped up the production of printed texts. In turn, Pi Sheng’s flexible, rapid, sustainable printing process expanded the political-cultural impact of the literati in Asian society. Digitized block text on paper produced a bureaucratic, literate elite so powerful in Asia that Louis XVI of France copied China’s print-based Confucian system of political authority for his own empire, and so began the rise of the examined public university systems, and the civil service systems, of most European states (Watson, Visions). By reason of its durability, its rapid mechanical reproduction, its culturally agreed signs, literate readership, revered authorship, shared ideology, and distributed portability, a ‘print’ can be a powerful cultural network which builds and expands empires. But print also attacks and destroys empires. A case in point is the Spanish conquest of Aztec America: The Aztecs had immense libraries of American literature on bark-cloth scrolls, a technology which predated paper. These libraries were wiped out by the invading Spanish, who carried a different book before them (Ewins). In the industrial age, the printing press and the gun were seen as the weapons of rebellions everywhere. In 1776, American rebels staffed their ‘Homeland Security’ units with paper makers, knowing that defeating the English would be based on printed and written documents (Hahn). Mao Zedong was a book librarian; Mao said political power came out of the barrel of a gun, but Mao himself came out of a library. With the spread of wireless networked servers, political ferment comes out of the barrel of the cell phone and the internet chat room these days. Witness the cell phone displays of a plane hitting a tower that appear immediately after 9/11 in the Middle East, or witness the show trials of a few US and UK lower ranks who published prints of their torturing activities onto the internet: only lower ranks who published prints were arrested or tried. The control of secure servers and satellites is the new press. These days, we live in a global library of burning books – ‘burning’ in the sense that ‘print’ is now a charged silicon medium (Smith, “Intel”) which is usually made readable by connecting the chip to nuclear reactors and petrochemically-fired power stations. World resources burn as we read our screens. Men, women, children burn too, as we watch our infotainment news in comfort while ‘their’ flickering dead faces are printed in our broadcast hearths. The print we watch is not the living; it is the voodoo of the living in the blackout behind the camera, engaging the blood sacrifice of the tormented and the unfortunate. Internet texts are also ‘on fire’ in the third sense of their fragility and instability as a medium: data bases regularly ‘print’ fail-safe copies in an attempt to postpone the inevitable mechanical, chemical and electrical failure that awaits all electronic media in time. Print defines a moral position for everyone. In reporting conflict, in deciding to go to press or censor, any ‘print’ cannot avoid an ethical context, starting with the fact that there is a difference in power between print maker, armed perpetrators, the weak, the peaceful, the publisher, and the viewer. So many human factors attend a text, video or voice ‘print’: its very existence as an aesthetic object, even before publication and reception, speaks of unbalanced, and therefore dynamic, power relationships. For example, Graham Greene departed unscathed from all the highly dangerous battlefields he entered as a novelist: Riot-torn Germany, London Blitz, Belgian Congo, Voodoo Haiti, Vietnam, Panama, Reagan’s Washington, and mafia Europe. His texts are peopled with the injustices of the less fortunate of the twentieth century, while he himself was a member of the fortunate (if not happy) elite, as is anyone today who has the luxury of time to read Greene’s works for pleasure. Ethically a member of London and Paris’ colonizers, Greene’s best writing still electrifies, perhaps partly because he was in the same line of fire as the victims he shared bread with. In fact, Greene hoped daily that he would escape from the dreadful conflicts he fictionalized via a body bag or an urn of ashes (see Sherry). In reading an author’s biography we have one window on the ethical dimensions of authority and print. If a print’s aesthetics are sometimes enduring, its ethical relationships are always mutable. Take the stylized logo of a running athlete: four limbs bent in a rotation of action. This dynamic icon has symbolized ‘good health’ in Hindu and Buddhist culture, from Madras to Tokyo, for thousands of years. The cross of bent limbs was borrowed for the militarized health programs of 1930s Germany, and, because of what was only a brief, recent, isolated yet monstrously horrific segment of its history in print, the bent-limbed swastika is now a vilified symbol in the West. The sign remains ‘impressed’ differently on traditional Eastern culture, and without the taint of Nazism. Dramatic prints are emotionally charged because, in depicting Homo sapiens in danger, or passionately in love, they elicit a hormonal reaction from the reader, the viewer, or the audience. The type of emotions triggered by a print vary across the whole gamut of human chemistry. A recent study of three genres of motion picture prints shows a marked differences in the hormonal responses of men compared to women when viewing a romance, an actioner, and a documentary (see Schultheiss, Wirth, and Stanton). Society is biochemically diverse in its engagement with printed culture, which raises questions about equality in the arts. Motion picture prints probably comprise around one third of internet traffic, in the form of stolen digitized movie files pirated across the globe via peer-to-peer file transfer networks (p2p), and burnt as DVD laser prints (BBC). There is also a US 40 billion dollar per annum legitimate commerce in DVD laser pressings (Grassl), which would suggest an US 80 billion per annum world total in legitimate laser disc print culture. The actively screen literate, or the ‘sliterati’ as I prefer to call them, research this world of motion picture prints via their peers, their internet information channels, their television programming, and their web forums. Most of this activity occurs outside the ambit of universities and schools. One large site of sliterate (screen literate) practice outside most schooling and official research is the net of online forums at imdb.com (International Movie Data Base). Imdb.com ‘prints’ about 25,000,000 top pages per month to client browsers. Hundreds of sliterati forums are located at imdb, including a forum for the Australian movie, Muriel’s Wedding (Hogan). Ten years after the release of Muriel’s Wedding, young people who are concerned with victimization and bullying still log on to http://us.imdb.com/title/tt0110598/board/> and put their thoughts into print: I still feel so bad for Muriel in the beginning of the movie, when the girls ‘dump’ her, and how much the poor girl cried and cried! Those girls were such biartches…I love how they got their comeuppance! bunniesormaybemidgets’s comment is typical of the current discussion. Muriel’s Wedding was a very popular film in its first cinema edition in Australia and elsewhere. About 30% of the entire over-14 Australian population went to see this photochemical polyester print in the cinemas on its first release. A decade on, the distributors printed a DVD laser disc edition. The story concerns Muriel (played by Toni Collette), the unemployed daughter of a corrupt, ‘police state’ politician. Muriel is bullied by her peers and she withdraws into a fantasy world, deluding herself that a white wedding will rescue her from the torments of her blighted life. Through theft and deceit (the modus operandi of her father) Muriel escapes to the entertainment industry and finds a ‘wicked’ girlfriend mentor. From a rebellious position of stubborn independence, Muriel plays out her fantasy. She gets her white wedding, before seeing both her father and her new married life as hollow shams which have goaded her abandoned mother to suicide. Redefining her life as a ‘game’ and assuming responsibility for her independence, Muriel turns her back on the mainstream, image-conscious, female gang of her oppressed youth. Muriel leaves the story, having rekindled her friendship with her rebel mentor. My methodological approach to viewing the laser disc print was to first make a more accessible, coded record of the entire movie. I was able to code and record the print in real time, using a new metalanguage (Watson, “Eyes”). The advantage of Coding is that ‘thinks’ the same way as film making, it does not sidetrack the analyst into prose. The Code splits the movie print into Vision Action [vision graphic elements, including text] (sound) The Coding splits the vision track into normal action and graphic elements, such as text, so this Coding is an ideal method for extracting all the text elements of a film in real time. After playing the film once, I had four and a half tightly packed pages of the coded story, including all its text elements in square brackets. Being a unique, indexed hard copy, the Coded copy allowed me immediate access to any point of the Muriel’s Wedding saga without having to search the DVD laser print. How are ‘print’ elements used in Muriel’s Wedding? Firstly, a rose-coloured monoprint of Muriel Heslop’s smiling face stares enigmatically from the plastic surface of the DVD picture disc. The print is a still photo captured from her smile as she walked down the aisle of her white wedding. In this print, Toni Collette is the Mona Lisa of Australian culture, except that fans of Muriel’s Wedding know the meaning of that smile is a magical combination of the actor’s art: the smile is both the flush of dreams come true and the frightening self deception that will kill her mother. Inserting and playing the disc, the text-dominant menu appears, and the film commences with the text-dominant opening titles. Text and titles confer a legitimacy on a work, whether it is a trade mark of the laser print owners, or the household names of stars. Text titles confer status relationships on both the presenters of the cultural artifact and the viewer who has entered into a legal license agreement with the owners of the movie. A title makes us comfortable, because the mind always seeks to name the unfamiliar, and a set of text titles does that job for us so that we can navigate the ‘tracks’ and settle into our engagement with the unfamiliar. The apparent ‘truth’ and ‘stability’ of printed text calms our fears and beguiles our uncertainties. Muriel attends the white wedding of a school bully bride, wearing a leopard print dress she has stolen. Muriel’s spotted wild animal print contrasts with the pure white handmade dress of the bride. In Muriel’s leopard textile print, we have the wild, rebellious, impoverished, inappropriate intrusion into the social ritual and fantasy of her high-status tormentor. An off-duty store detective recognizes the printed dress and calls the police. The police are themselves distinguished by their blue-and-white checked prints and other mechanically reproduced impressions of cultural symbols: in steel, brass, embroidery, leather and plastics. Muriel is driven in the police car past the stenciled town sign (‘Welcome To Porpoise Spit’ heads a paragraph of small print). She is delivered to her father, a politician who presides over the policing of his town. In a state where the judiciary, police and executive are hijacked by the same tyrant, Muriel’s father, Bill, pays off the police constables with a carton of legal drugs (beer) and Muriel must face her father’s wrath, which he proceeds to transfer to his detested wife. Like his daughter, the father also wears a spotted brown print costume, but his is a batik print from neighbouring Indonesia (incidentally, in a nation that takes the political status of its batik prints very seriously). Bill demands that Muriel find the receipt for the leopard print dress she claims she has purchased. The legitimate ownership of the object is enmeshed with a printed receipt, the printed evidence of trade. The law (and the paramilitary power behind the law) are legitimized, or contested, by the presence or absence of printed text. Muriel hides in her bedroom, surround by poster prints of the pop group ABBA. Torn-out prints of other people’s weddings adorn her mirror. Her face is embossed with the clown-like primary colours of the marionette as she lifts a bouquet to her chin and stares into the real time ‘print’ of her mirror image. Bill takes the opportunity of a business meeting with Japanese investors to feed his entire family at ‘Charlie Chan’’s restaurant. Muriel’s middle sister sloppily wears her father’s state election tee shirt, printed with the text: ‘Vote 1, Bill Heslop. You can’t stop progress.’ The text sets up two ironic gags that are paid off on the dialogue track: “He lost,’ we are told. ‘Progress’ turns out to be funding the concreting of a beach. Bill berates his daughter Muriel: she has no chance of becoming a printer’s apprentice and she has failed a typing course. Her dysfunction in printed text has been covered up by Bill: he has bribed the typing teacher to issue a printed diploma to his daughter. In the gambling saloon of the club, under the arrays of mechanically repeated cultural symbols lit above the poker machines (‘A’ for ace, ‘Q’ for queen, etc.), Bill’s secret girlfriend Diedre risks giving Muriel a cosmetics job. Another text icon in lights announces the surf nightclub ‘Breakers’. Tania, the newly married queen bitch who has made Muriel’s teenage years a living hell, breaks up with her husband, deciding to cash in his negotiable text documents – his Bali honeymoon tickets – and go on an island holiday with her girlfriends instead. Text documents are the enduring site of agreements between people and also the site of mutations to those agreements. Tania dumps Muriel, who sobs and sobs. Sobs are a mechanical, percussive reproduction impressed on the sound track. Returning home, we discover that Muriel’s older brother has failed a printed test and been rejected for police recruitment. There is a high incidence of print illiteracy in the Heslop family. Mrs Heslop (Jeannie Drynan), for instance, regularly has trouble at the post office. Muriel sees a chance to escape the oppression of her family by tricking her mother into giving her a blank cheque. Here is the confluence of the legitimacy of a bank’s printed negotiable document with the risk and freedom of a blank space for rebel Muriel’s handwriting. Unable to type, her handwriting has the power to steal every cent of her father’s savings. She leaves home and spends the family’s savings at an island resort. On the island, the text print-challenged Muriel dances to a recording (sound print) of ABBA, her hand gestures emphasizing her bewigged face, which is made up in an impression of her pop idol. Her imitation of her goddesses – the ABBA women, her only hope in a real world of people who hate or avoid her – is accompanied by her goddesses’ voices singing: ‘the mystery book on the shelf is always repeating itself.’ Before jpeg and gif image downloads, we had postcard prints and snail mail. Muriel sends a postcard to her family, lying about her ‘success’ in the cosmetics business. The printed missal is clutched by her father Bill (Bill Hunter), who proclaims about his daughter, ‘you can’t type but you really impress me’. Meanwhile, on Hibiscus Island, Muriel lies under a moonlit palm tree with her newly found mentor, ‘bad girl’ Ronda (Rachel Griffiths). In this critical scene, where foolish Muriel opens her heart’s yearnings to a confidante she can finally trust, the director and DP have chosen to shoot a flat, high contrast blue filtered image. The visual result is very much like the semiabstract Japanese Ukiyo-e woodblock prints by Utamaro. This Japanese printing style informed the rise of European modern painting (Monet, Van Gogh, Picasso, etc., were all important collectors and students of Ukiyo-e prints). The above print and text elements in Muriel’s Wedding take us 27 minutes into her story, as recorded on a single page of real-time handwritten Coding. Although not discussed here, the Coding recorded the complete film – a total of 106 minutes of text elements and main graphic elements – as four pages of Code. Referring to this Coding some weeks after it was made, I looked up the final code on page four: taxi [food of the sea] bq. Translation: a shop sign whizzes past in the film’s background, as Muriel and Ronda leave Porpoise Spit in a taxi. Over their heads the text ‘Food Of The Sea’ flashes. We are reminded that Muriel and Ronda are mermaids, fantastic creatures sprung from the brow of author PJ Hogan, and illuminated even today in the pantheon of women’s coming-of-age art works. That the movie is relevant ten years on is evidenced by the current usage of the Muriel’s Wedding online forum, an intersection of wider discussions by sliterate women on imdb.com who, like Muriel, are observers (and in some cases victims) of horrific pressure from ambitious female gangs and bullies. Text is always a minor element in a motion picture (unless it is a subtitled foreign film) and text usually whizzes by subliminally while viewing a film. By Coding the work for [text], all the text nuances made by the film makers come to light. While I have viewed Muriel’s Wedding on many occasions, it has only been in Coding it specifically for text that I have noticed that Muriel is a representative of that vast class of talented youth who are discriminated against by print (as in text) educators who cannot offer her a life-affirming identity in the English classroom. Severely depressed at school, and failing to type or get a printer’s apprenticeship, Muriel finds paid work (and hence, freedom, life, identity, independence) working in her audio visual printed medium of choice: a video store in a new city. Muriel found a sliterate admirer at the video store but she later dumped him for her fantasy man, before leaving him too. One of the points of conjecture on the imdb Muriel’s Wedding site is, did Muriel (in the unwritten future) get back together with admirer Brice Nobes? That we will never know. While a print forms a track that tells us where culture has been, a print cannot be the future, a print is never animate reality. At the end of any trail of prints, one must lift one’s head from the last impression, and negotiate satisfaction in the happening world. References Australian Broadcasting Corporation. “Memo Shows US General Approved Interrogations.” 30 Mar. 2005 http://www.abc.net.au>. British Broadcasting Commission. “Films ‘Fuel Online File-Sharing’.’’ 22 Feb. 2005 http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/technology/3890527.stm>. Bretherton, I. “The Origins of Attachment Theory: John Bowlby and Mary Ainsworth.” 1994. 23 Jan. 2005 http://www.psy.med.br/livros/autores/bowlby/bowlby.pdf>. Bunniesormaybemidgets. Chat Room Comment. “What Did Those Girls Do to Rhonda?” 28 Mar. 2005 http://us.imdb.com/title/tt0110598/board/>. Chinese Graphic Arts Net. Mantras of the Dharani Sutra. 20 Feb. 2005 http://www.cgan.com/english/english/cpg/engcp10.htm>. Ewins, R. Barkcloth and the Origins of Paper. 1991. 20 Feb. 2005 http://www.justpacific.com/pacific/papers/barkcloth~paper.html>. Grassl K.R. The DVD Statistical Report. 14 Mar. 2005 http://www.corbell.com>. Hahn, C. M. The Topic Is Paper. 20 Feb. 2005 http://www.nystamp.org/Topic_is_paper.html>. Harper, D. Online Etymology Dictionary. 14 Mar. 2005 http://www.etymonline.com/>. Mask of Zorro, The. Screenplay by J McCulley. UA, 1920. Muriel’s Wedding. Dir. PJ Hogan. Perf. Toni Collette, Rachel Griffiths, Bill Hunter, and Jeannie Drynan. Village Roadshow, 1994. O’Hagan, Jack. On The Road to Gundagai. 1922. 2 Apr. 2005 http://ingeb.org/songs/roadtogu.html>. Poole, J.H., P.L. Tyack, A.S. Stoeger-Horwath, and S. Watwood. “Animal Behaviour: Elephants Are Capable of Vocal Learning.” Nature 24 Mar. 2005. Sanchez, R. “Interrogation and Counter-Resistance Policy.” 14 Sept. 2003. 30 Mar. 2005 http://www.abc.net.au>. Schultheiss, O.C., M.M. Wirth, and S.J. Stanton. “Effects of Affiliation and Power Motivation Arousal on Salivary Progesterone and Testosterone.” Hormones and Behavior 46 (2005). Sherry, N. The Life of Graham Greene. 3 vols. London: Jonathan Cape 2004, 1994, 1989. Silk Road. Printing. 2000. 20 Feb. 2005 http://www.silk-road.com/artl/printing.shtml>. Smith, T. “Elpida Licenses ‘DVD on a Chip’ Memory Tech.” The Register 20 Feb. 2005 http://www.theregister.co.uk/2005/02>. —. “Intel Boffins Build First Continuous Beam Silicon Laser.” The Register 20 Feb. 2005 http://www.theregister.co.uk/2005/02>. Watson, R. S. “Eyes And Ears: Dramatic Memory Slicing and Salable Media Content.” Innovation and Speculation, ed. Brad Haseman. Brisbane: QUT. [in press] Watson, R. S. Visions. Melbourne: Curriculum Corporation, 1994. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Watson, Robert. "E-Press and Oppress: Audio Visual Print Drama, Identity, Text and Motion Picture Rebellion." M/C Journal 8.2 (2005). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0506/08-watson.php>. APA Style Watson, R. (Jun. 2005) "E-Press and Oppress: Audio Visual Print Drama, Identity, Text and Motion Picture Rebellion," M/C Journal, 8(2). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0506/08-watson.php>.

The traditional German tale of the Pied Piper of Hamelin inhabits an ambiguous narrative borderland, a liminal space between fact and fiction, fantasy and horror, concrete details and elusive mystery. In his study of the Pied Piper in Tradition and Innovation in Folk Literature, Wolfgang Mieder describes how manuscripts and other evidence appear to confirm the historical base of the story. Precise details from a fifteenth-century manuscript, based on earlier sources, specify that in 1284 on the 26th of June, the feast-day of Saints John and Paul, 130 children from Hamelin were led away by a piper clothed in many colours to the Koppen Hill, and there vanished (Mieder 48). Later manuscripts add details familiar today, such as a plague of rats and a broken bargain with burghers as a motive for the Piper’s actions, while in the seventeenth century the first English-language version advances what might also be the first attempt at a “rational” explanation for the children’s disappearance, claiming that they were taken to Transylvania. The uncommon pairing of such precise factual detail with enigmatic mystery has encouraged many theories. These have ranged from references to the Children’s Crusade, or other religious fervours, to the devastation caused by the Black Death, from the colonisation of Romania by young German migrants to a murderous rampage by a paedophile. Fictional interpretations of the story have multiplied, with the classic versions of the Brothers Grimm and Robert Browning being most widely known, but with contemporary creators exploring the theme too. This includes interpretations in Hamelin itself. On 26 June 2015, in Hamelin Museum, I watched a wordless five-minute play, entirely performed not by humans but by animatronic stylised figures built out of scrap iron, against a montage of multilingual, confused voices and eerie music, with the vanished children represented by a long line of small empty shirts floating by. The uncanny, liminal nature of the story was perfectly captured. Australia is a world away from German fairy tale mysteries, historically, geographically, and culturally. Yet, as Lisa M. Fiander has persuasively argued, contemporary Australian fiction has been more influenced by fairy tales than might be assumed, and in this essay it is proposed that major motifs from the Pied Piper appear in several Australian novels, transformed not only by distance of setting and time from that of the original narrative, but also by elements specific to the Australian imaginative space. These motifs are lost children, the enigmatic figure of the Piper himself, and the power of a very particular place (as Hamelin and its Koppen Hill are particularised in the original tale). Three major Australian novels will be examined in this essay: Joan Lindsay’s Picnic at Hanging Rock (1967), Christopher Koch’s The Doubleman (1985), and Ursula Dubosarsky’s The Golden Day (2011). Dubosarsky’s novel was written for children; both Koch’s and Lindsay’s novels were published as adult fiction. In each of these works of fiction, the original tale’s motifs have been developed and transformed to express unique evocations of the Pied Piper theme. As noted by Fiander, fiction writers are “most likely to draw upon fairy tales when they are framing, in writing, a subject that generates anxiety in their culture” (158). Her analysis is about anxieties of place within Australian fiction, but this insight could be usefully extended to the motifs which I have identified as inherent in the Pied Piper story. Prominent among these is the lost children motif, whose importance in the Australian imagination has been well-established by scholars such as Peter Pierce. Pierce’s The Country of Lost Children: An Australian Anxiety explores this preoccupation from the earliest beginnings of European settlement, through analysis of fiction, newspaper reports, paintings, and films. As Pierce observed in a later interview in the Sydney Morning Herald (Knox), over time the focus changed from rural children and the nineteenth-century fear of the vast impersonal nature of the bush, where children of colonists could easily get lost, to urban children and the contemporary fear of human predators.In each of the three novels under examination in this essay, lost children—whether literal or metaphorical—feature prominently. Writer Carmel Bird, whose fiction has also frequently centred on the theme of the lost child, observes in “Dreaming the Place” that the lost child, the stolen child – this must be a narrative that is lodged in the heart and imagination, nightmare and dream, of all human beings. In Australia the nightmare became reality. The child is the future, and if the child goes, there can be no future. The true stories and the folk tales on this theme are mirror images of each other. (7) The motif of lost children—and of children in danger—is not unique to the Pied Piper. Other fairy tales, such as Hansel and Gretel and Little Red Riding Hood, contain it, and it is those antecedents which Bird cites in her essay. But within the Pied Piper story it has three features which distinguish it from other traditional tales. First, unlike in the classic versions of Hansel and Gretel or Red Riding Hood, the children do not return. Neither are there bodies to find. The children have vanished into thin air, never to be seen again. Second, it is not only parents who have lost them, but an entire community whose future has been snatched away: a community once safe, ordered, even complacent, traumatised by loss. The lack of hope, of a happy ending for anyone, is striking. And thirdly, the children are not lost or abandoned or even, strictly speaking, stolen: they are lured away, semi-willingly, by the central yet curiously marginal figure of the Piper himself. In the original story there is no mention of motive and no indication of malice on the part of the Piper. There is only his inexplicable presence, a figure out of fairy folklore appearing in the midst of concrete historical dates and numbers. Clearly, he links to the liminal, complex world of the fairies, found in folklore around the world—beings from a world close to the human one, yet alien. Whimsical and unpredictable by human standards, such beings are nevertheless bound by mysteriously arbitrary rules and taboos, and haunt the borders of the human world, disturbing its rational edges and transforming lives forever. It is this sense of disturbance, that enchanting yet frightening sudden shifting of the border of reality and of the comforting order of things, the essence of transformation itself, which can also be seen at the core of the three novels under examination in this essay, with the Piper represented in each of them but in different ways. The third motif within the Pied Piper is a focus on place as a source of uncanny power, a theme which particularly resonates within an Australian context. Fiander argues that if contemporary British fiction writers use fairy tale to explore questions of community and alienation, and Canadian fiction writers use it to explore questions of identity, then Australian writers use it to explore the unease of place. She writes of the enduring legacy of Australia’s history “as a settler colony which invests the landscape with strangeness for many protagonists” (157). Furthermore, she suggests that “when Australian fiction writers, using fairy tales, describe the landscape as divorced from reality, they might be signalling anxiety about their own connection with the land which had already seen tens of thousands of years of occupation when Captain James Cook ‘found’ it in 1770” (160). I would argue, however, that in the case of the Pied Piper motifs, it is less clear that it is solely settler anxieties which are driving the depiction of the power of place in these three novels. There is no divorce from reality here, but rather an eruption of the metaphysical potency of place within the usual, “normal” order of reality. This follows the pattern of the original tale, where the Piper and all the children, except for one or two stragglers, disappear at Koppen Hill, vanishing literally into the hill itself. In traditional European folklore, hollow hills are associated with fairies and their uncanny power, but other places, especially those of water—springs, streams, even the sea—may also be associated with their liminal world (in the original tale, the River Weser is another important locus for power). In Joan Lindsay’s Picnic at Hanging Rock, it is another outcrop in the landscape which holds that power and claims the “lost children.” Inspired partly by a painting by nineteenth-century Australian artist William Ford, titled At the Hanging Rock (1875), depicting a group of elegant people picnicking in the bush, this influential novel, which inspired an equally successful film adaptation, revolves around an incident in 1900 when four girls from Appleyard College, an exclusive school in Victoria, disappear with one of their teachers whilst climbing Hanging Rock, where they have gone for a picnic. Only one of their number, a girl called Irma, is ever found, and she has no memory of how and why she found herself on the Rock, and what has happened to the others. This inexplicable event is the precursor to a string of tragedies which leads to the violent deaths of several people, and which transforms the sleepy and apparently content little community around Appleyard College into a centre of loss, horror, and scandal.Told in a way which makes it appear that the novelist is merely recounting a true story—Lindsay even tells readers in an author’s note that they must decide for themselves if it is fact or fiction—Picnic at Hanging Rock shares the disturbingly liminal fact-fiction territory of the Piper tale. Many readers did in fact believe that the novel was based on historical events and combed newspaper files, attempting to propound ingenious “rational” explanations for what happened on the Rock. Picnic at Hanging Rock has been the subject of many studies, with the novel being analysed through various prisms, including the Gothic, the pastoral, historiography, and philosophy. In “Fear and Loathing in the Australian Bush,” Kathleen Steele has depicted Picnic at Hanging Rock as embodying the idea that “Ordered ‘civilisation’ cannot overcome the gothic landscapes of settler imaginations: landscapes where time and people disappear” (44). She proposes that Lindsay intimates that the landscape swallows the “lost children” of the novel because there is a great absence in that place: that of Aboriginal people. In this reading of the novel, it is that absence which becomes, in a sense, a malevolent presence that will reach out beyond the initial disappearance of the three people on the Rock to destroy the bonds that held the settler community together. It is a powerfully-made argument, which has been taken up by other scholars and writers, including studies which link the theme of the novel with real-life lost-children cases such as that of Azaria Chamberlain, who disappeared near another “Rock” of great Indigenous metaphysical potency—Uluru, or Ayers Rock. However, to date there has been little exploration of the fairy tale quality of the novel, and none at all of the striking ways in which it evokes Pied Piper motifs, whilst transforming them to suit the exigencies of its particular narrative world. The motif of lost children disappearing from an ordered, safe, even complacent community into a place of mysterious power is extended into an exploration of the continued effects of those disappearances, depicting the disastrous impact on those left behind and the wider community in a way that the original tale does not. There is no literal Pied Piper figure in this novel, though various theories are evoked by characters as to who might have lured the girls and their teacher, and who might be responsible for the disappearances. Instead, there is a powerful atmosphere of inevitability and enchantment within the landscape itself which both illustrates the potency of place, and exemplifies the Piper’s hold on his followers. In Picnic at Hanging Rock, place and Piper are synonymous: the Piper has been transformed into the land itself. Yet this is not the “vast impersonal bush,” nor is it malevolent or vengeful. It is a living, seductive metaphysical presence: “Everything, if only you could see it clearly enough, is beautiful and complete . . .” (Lindsay 35). Just as in the original tale, the lost children follow the “Piper” willingly, without regret. Their disappearance is a happiness to them, in that moment, as it is for the lost children of Hamelin, and quite unlike how it must be for those torn apart by that loss—the community around Appleyard, the townspeople of Hamelin. Music, long associated with fairy “takings,” is also a subtle feature of the story. In the novel, just before the luring, Irma hears a sound like the beating of far-off drums. In the film, which more overtly evokes fairy tale elements than does the novel, it is noteworthy that the music at that point is based on traditional tunes for Pan-pipes, played by the great Romanian piper Gheorge Zamfir. The ending of the novel, with questions left unanswered, and lives blighted by the forever-inexplicable, may be seen as also following the trajectory of the original tale. Readers as much as the fictional characters are left with an enigma that continues to perplex and inspire. Picnic at Hanging Rock was one of the inspirations for another significant Australian fiction, this time a contemporary novel for children. Ursula Dubosarsky’s The Golden Day (2011) is an elegant and subtle short novel, set in Sydney at an exclusive girls’ school, in 1967. Like the earlier novel, The Golden Day is also partly inspired by visual art, in this case the Schoolgirl series of paintings by Charles Blackman. Combining a fairy tale atmosphere with historical details—the Vietnam War, the hanging of Ronald Ryan, the drowning of Harold Holt—the story is told through the eyes of several girls, especially one, known as Cubby. The Golden Day echoes the core narrative patterns of the earlier novel, but intriguingly transformed: a group of young girls goes with their teacher on an outing to a mysterious place (in this case, a cave on the beach—note the potent elements of rock and water, combined), and something inexplicable happens which results in a disappearance. Only this time, the girls are much younger than the characters of Lindsay’s novel, pre-pubertal in fact at eleven years old, and it is their teacher, a young, idealistic woman known only as Miss Renshaw, who disappears, apparently into thin air, with only an amber bead from her necklace ever found. But it is not only Miss Renshaw who vanishes: the other is a poet and gardener named Morgan who is also Miss Renshaw’s secret lover. Later, with the revelation of a dark past, he is suspected in absentia of being responsible for Miss Renshaw’s vanishment, with implications of rape and murder, though her body is never found. Morgan, who could partly figure as the Piper, is described early on in the novel as having “beautiful eyes, soft, brown, wet with tears, like a stuffed toy” (Dubosarsky 11). This disarming image may seem a world away from the ambiguously disturbing figure of the legendary Piper, yet not only does it fit with the children’s naïve perception of the world, it also echoes the fact that the children in the original story were not afraid of the Piper, but followed him willingly. However, that is complicated by the fact that Morgan does not lure the children; it is Miss Renshaw who follows him—and the children follow her, who could be seen as the other half of the Piper. The Golden Day similarly transforms the other Piper motifs in its own original way. The children are only literally lost for a short time, when their teacher vanishes and they are left to make their own way back from the cave; yet it could be argued that metaphorically, the girls are “lost” to childhood from that moment, in terms of never being able to go back to the state of innocence in which they were before that day. Their safe, ordered school community will never be the same again, haunted by the inexplicability of the events of that day. Meanwhile, the exploration of Australian place—the depiction of the Memorial Gardens where Miss Renshaw enjoins them to write poetry, the uncomfortable descent over rocks to the beach, and the fateful cave—is made through the eyes of children, not the adolescents and adults of Picnic at Hanging Rock. The girls are not yet in that liminal space which is adolescence and so their impressions of what the places represent are immediate, instinctive, yet confused. They don’t like the cave and can’t wait to get out of it, whereas the beach inspires them with a sense of freedom and the gardens with a sense of enchantment. But in each place, those feelings are mixed both with ordinary concerns and with seemingly random associations that are nevertheless potently evocative. For example, in the cave, Cubby senses a threateningly weightless atmosphere, a feeling of reality shifting, which she associates, apparently confusedly, with the hanging of Ronald Ryan, reported that very day. In this way, Dubosarsky subtly gestures towards the sinister inevitability of the following events, and creates a growing tension that will eventually fade but never fully dissipate. At the end, the novel takes an unexpected turn which is as destabilising as the ending of the Pied Piper story, and as open-ended in its transformative effects as the original tale: “And at that moment Cubby realised she was not going to turn into the person she had thought she would become. There was something inside her head now that would make her a different person, though she scarcely understood what it was” (Dubosarsky 148). The eruption of the uncanny into ordinary life will never leave her now, as it will never leave the other girls who followed Miss Renshaw and Morgan into the literally hollow hill of the cave and emerged alone into a transformed world. It isn’t just childhood that Cubby has lost but also any possibility of a comforting sense of the firm borders of reality. As in the Pied Piper, ambiguity and loss combine to create questions which cannot be logically answered, only dimly apprehended.Christopher Koch’s 1985 novel The Doubleman, winner of the Miles Franklin Award, also explores the power of place and the motif of lost children, but unlike the other two novels examined in this essay depicts an actual “incarnated” Piper motif in the mysteriously powerful figure of Clive Broderick, brilliant guitarist and charismatic teacher/guru, whose office, significantly, is situated in a subterranean space of knowledge—a basement room beneath a bookshop. Both central yet peripheral to the main action of the novel, touched with hints of the supernatural which never veer into overt fantasy, Broderick remains an enigma to the end. Set, like The Golden Day, in the 1960s, The Doubleman is narrated in the first person by Richard Miller, in adulthood a producer of a successful folk-rock group, the Rymers, but in childhood an imaginative, troubled polio survivor, with a crutch and a limp. It is noteworthy here that in the Grimms’ version of the Pied Piper, two children are left behind, despite following the Piper: one is blind, one is lame. And it is the lame boy who tells the townspeople what he glimpsed at Koppen Hill. In creating the character of Broderick, the author blends the traditional tropes of the Piper figure with Mephistophelian overtones and a strong influence from fairy lore, specifically the idea of the “doubleman,” here drawn from the writings of seventeenth-century Scottish pastor, the Reverend Robert Kirk of Aberfoyle. Kirk’s 1691 book The Secret Commonwealth of Elves, Fauns and Fairies is the earliest known serious attempt at objective description of the fairy beliefs of Gaelic-speaking Highlanders. His own precisely dated life-story and ambiguous end—it is said he did not die but is forever a prisoner of the fairies—has eerie parallels to the Piper story. “And there is the uncanny, powerful and ambiguous fact of the matter. Here is a man, named, born, lived, who lived a fairy story, really lived it: and in the popular imagination, he lives still” (Masson).Both in his creative and his non-fiction work Koch frequently evoked what he called “the Otherland,” which he depicted as a liminal, ambiguous, destabilising but nevertheless very real and potent presence only thinly veiled by the everyday world. This Otherland is not the same in all his fictions, but is always part of an actual place, whether that be Java in The Year of Living Dangerously, Hobart and Sydney in The Doubleman, Tasmania, Vietnam and Cambodia in Highways to a War, and Ireland and Tasmania in Out of Ireland. It is this sense of the “Otherland” below the surface, a fairy tale, mythical realm beyond logic or explanation, which gives his work its distinctive and particular power. And in The Doubleman, this motif, set within a vividly evoked real world, complete with precise period detail, transforms the Piper figure into one which could easily appear in a Hobart lane, yet which loses none of its uncanny potency. As Noel Henricksen writes in his study of Koch’s work, Island and Otherland, “Behind the membrane of Hobart is Otherland, its manifestations a spectrum stretched between the mystical and the spiritually perverted” (213).This is Broderick’s first appearance, described through twelve-year-old Richard Miller’s eyes: Tall and thin in his long dark overcoat, he studied me for the whole way as he approached, his face absolutely serious . . . The man made me uneasy to a degree for which there seemed to be no explanation . . . I was troubled by the notion that he was no ordinary man going to work at all: that he was not like other people, and that his interest couldn’t be explained so simply. (Koch, Doubleman 3)That first encounter is followed by another, more disturbing still, when Broderick speaks to the boy, eyes fixed on him: “. . . hooded by drooping lids, they were entirely without sympathy, yet nevertheless interested, and formidably intelligent” (5).The sense of danger that Broderick evokes in the boy could be explained by a sinister hint of paedophilia. But though Broderick is a predator of sorts on young people, nothing is what it seems; no rational explanation encompasses the strange effect of his presence. It is not until Richard is a young man, in the company of his musical friend Brian Brady, that he comes across Broderick again. The two young men are looking in the window of a music shop, when Broderick appears beside them, and as Richard observes, just as in a fairy tale, “He didn’t seem to have changed or aged . . .” (44). But the shock of his sudden re-appearance is mixed with something else now, as Broderick engages Brady in conversation, ignoring Richard, “. . . as though I had failed some test, all that time ago, and the man had no further use for me” (45).What happens next, as Broderick demonstrates his musical prowess, becomes Brady’s teacher, and introduces them to his disciple, young bass player Darcy Burr, will change the young men’s lives forever and set them on a path that leads both to great success and to living nightmare, even after Broderick’s apparent disappearance, for Burr will take on the Piper’s mantle. Koch’s depiction of the lost children motif is distinctively different to the other two novels examined in this essay. Their fate is not so much a mystery as a tragedy and a warning. The lost children of The Doubleman are also lost children of the sixties, bright, talented young people drawn through drugs, immersive music, and half-baked mysticism into darkness and horrifying violence. In his essay “California Dreaming,” published in the collection Crossing the Gap, Koch wrote about this subterranean aspect of the sixties, drawing a connection between it and such real-life sinister “Pipers” as Charles Manson (60). Broderick and Burr are not the same as the serial killer Manson, of course; but the spell they cast over the “lost children” who follow them is only different in degree, not in kind. In the end of the novel, the spell is broken and the world is again transformed. Yet fittingly it is a melancholy transformation: an end of childhood dreams of imaginative potential, as well as dangerous illusions: “And I knew now that it was all gone—like Harrigan Street, and Broderick, and the district of Second-Hand” (Koch, Doubleman 357). The power of place, the last of the Piper motifs, is also deeply embedded in The Doubleman. In fact, as with the idea of Otherland, place—or Island, as Henricksen evocatively puts it—is a recurring theme in Koch’s work. He identified primarily and specifically as a Tasmanian writer rather than as simply Australian, pointing out in an essay, “The Lost Hemisphere,” that because of its landscape and latitude, different to the mainland of Australia, Tasmania “genuinely belongs to a different region from the continent” (Crossing the Gap 92). In The Doubleman, Richard Miller imbues his familiar and deeply loved home landscape with great mystical power, a power which is both inherent within it as it is, but also expressive of the Otherland. In “A Tasmanian Tone,” another essay from Crossing the Gap, Koch describes that tone as springing “from a sense of waiting in the landscape: the tense yet serene expectancy of some nameless revelation” (118). But Koch could also write evocatively of landscapes other than Tasmanian ones. The unnerving climax of The Doubleman takes place in Sydney—significantly, as in The Golden Day, in a liminal, metaphysically charged place of rocks and water. That place, which is real, is called Point Piper. In conclusion, the original tale’s three main motifs—lost children, the enigma of the Piper, and the power of place—have been explored in distinctive ways in each of the three novels examined in this article. Contemporary Australia may be a world away from medieval Germany, but the uncanny liminality and capacious ambiguity of the Pied Piper tale has made it resonate potently within these major Australian fictions. Transformed and transformative within the Australian imagination, the theme of the Pied Piper threads like a faintly-heard snatch of unearthly music through the apparently mimetic realism of the novels, destabilising readers’ expectations and leaving them with subversively unanswered questions. ReferencesBird, Carmel. “Dreaming the Place: An Exploration of Antipodean Narratives.” Griffith Review 42 (2013). 1 May 2016 <https://griffithreview.com/articles/dreaming-the-place/>.Dubosarsky, Ursula. The Golden Day. Sydney: Allen and Unwin, 2011.Fiander, Lisa M. “Writing in A Fairy Story Landscape: Fairy Tales and Contemporary Australian Fiction.” Journal of the Association for the Study of Australian Literature 2 (2003). 30 April 2016 <http://openjournals.library.usyd.edu.au/index.php/JASAL/index>.Henricksen, Noel. Island and Otherland: Christopher Koch and His Books. Melbourne: Educare, 2003.Knox, Malcolm. “A Country of Lost Children.” Sydney Morning Herald 15 Aug. 2009. 1 May 2016 <http://www.smh.com.au/national/a-country-of-lost-children-20090814-el8d.html>.Koch, Christopher. The Doubleman. 1985. Sydney: Minerva, 1996.Koch, Christopher. Crossing the Gap: Memories and Reflections. 1987. Sydney: Vintage, 2000. Lindsay, Joan. Picnic at Hanging Rock. 1967. Melbourne: Penguin, 1977.Masson, Sophie. “Captive in Fairyland: The Strange Case of Robert Kirk of Aberfoyle.” Nation and Federation in the Celtic World: Papers from the Fourth Australian Conference of Celtic Studies, University of Sydney, June–July 2001. Ed. Pamela O’Neil. Sydney: University of Sydney Celtic Studies Foundation, 2003. Mieder, Wolfgang. “The Pied Piper: Origin, History, and Survival of a Legend.” Tradition and Innovation in Folk Literature. 1987. London: Routledge Revivals, 2015.Pierce, Peter. The Country of Lost Children: An Australian Anxiety. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1999.Steele, Kathleen. “Fear and Loathing in the Australian Bush: Gothic Landscapes in Bush Studies and Picnic at Hanging Rock.” Colloquy 20 (2010): 33–56. 27 July 2016 <http://artsonline.monash.edu.au/wp-content/arts/files/colloquy/colloquy_issue_20_december_2010/steele.pdf>.