Academic literature on the topic 'Bitter Root Project (U.S.)'

The present volume marks the completion of a large research project by the Geological Survey of Denmark and Greenland (GEUS), focused on the northern part of the Palaeoproterozoic Nagssugtoqidian orogen of central West Greenland, and carried out by a team of Danish and international participants. The project comprised geological mapping as well as structural, geochronological, geochemical and economic geological studies. This volume contains reports on both Archaean and Palaeoproterozoic geology as well as a study of neotectonic brittle structures. The field work was carried out in 2000-2003 in the region between Nordre Strømfjord and Jakobshavn Isfjord (see e.g. van Gool & Piazolo 2006, this volume, fig. 1). The project had two immediate purposes, namely to establish an overview of the mineral resource potential of supracrustal rocks in the region between 66° and 70°15'N, and produce four new geological sheets in the Survey's 1:100 000 map series. The first collection of papers about the Nagssugtoqidian orogen, published by the Geological Survey of Greenland (GGU, now part of GEUS), dates back to 1979 (Korstgård 1979). The investigations in this period were mainly based on field descriptions and structural analysis of coastal areas in the southern and central parts of the orogen, combined with limited petrographical, palaeomagnetic and geochronological studies; the results also comprised the first 1:100 000 geological map from within the Nagssugtoqidian orogen (Olesen 1984). The Proterozoic age of the orogen had been established, but it was believed that most, if not all of the quartzofeldspathic basement gneisses were of Archaean origin. Subsequent work in the Nagssugtoqidian orogen by GGU in the 1980s showed that besides Archaean orthogneisses and supracrustal rocks, the central part of the orogen also comprises the root zone of a Palaeoproterozoic magmatic arc and associated panels of Palaeoproterozoic volcanic and metasedimentary rocks (Kalsbeek et al. 1987). These results were confirmed during further investigations by the Danish Lithosphere Centre (DLC) in 1994-1999, and the plate-tectonic collisional history of the southern and central Nagssugtoqidian orogen was described in detail (van Gool et al. 2002). However, these studies added little to previous knowledge of the northern parts of the orogen in the Kangaatsiaq-Aasiaat-Qasigiannguit region, knowledge that was largely based on coastal reconnaissance by Henderson (1969) at the time when the entire orogen was still believed to consist of Archaean rocks. Another project preceding the present work was carried out by GGU in 1988-1991 immediately north of the Nagssugtoqidian orogen, in the southernmost part of the likewise Palaeoproterozoic Rinkian fold belt (Disko Bugt project, Kalsbeek 1999). It was shown that also the latter region comprises Palaeoproterozoic (meta)sedimentary rocks, and that most of the Archaean basement is strongly overprinted by Palaeoproterozoic structures that were formed during overall W- or NW-directed lateral tectonic transport. Although these structures might be related to similar structures in the Nagssugtoqidian orogen, the relationship between the Nagssugtoqidian orogen and the Rinkian fold belt remained speculative. The only previous economic geological study of regional extent in central West Greenland was an airborne reconnaissance study supplemented by local field work, which was carried out in the early 1960s by Kryolitselskabet Øresund A/S. This work resulted in the discovery of a massive sulphide deposit at Naternaq (Lersletten), which was studied again in some detail in 2001 by the Survey (Østergaard et al. 2002) but not reported on in the present volume. The present volume comprises 12 papers with topics ranging geochronologically from mid-Archaean to Palaeogene, and geographically from the southern Nagssugtoqidian foreland to the central part of the Rinkian fold belt. Many of the papers deal with the northern part of the Nagssugtoqidian orogen and are related to the recent field work in that region, while a few contributions are rooted in DLC- or other projects. The papers have been arranged in approximate chronological order and are grouped in terms of their main subjects. The two first papers, by Hollis et al. and Moyen & Watt, deal with Archaean supra- and infracrustal rocks in the northern Nagssugtoqidian orogen: their origin, ages, and structural and metamorphic evolution. These papers provide insight into the age and origin of the continental crustal orthogneisses and granites that underlie most of the region, and discuss the relationships between the supracrustal and plutonic components, using zircon U-Pb age determinations and major and trace element geochemical characteristics. Also the question of Palaeoproterozoic tectonic overprint is discussed, with the conclusion from both study areas that most of the observed structures are Archaean. The third paper with focus on Archaean geology, by Stendal et al., describes a small gold prospect at Attu likewise in the northern Nagssugtoqidian orogen, and discusses the age of the prospect and its host rocks using Pb-Pb geochronology of magnetite. It is concluded that the host rocks at Attu may be as old as 3162 ± 43 Ma, and that the gold prospect itself is around 2650 Ma in age. The fourth paper, by Mayborn & Lesher, is a thorough review of the Kangâmiut dyke swarm in the southern Nagssugtoqidian orogen and its foreland. It includes new whole-rock and mineral chemical data, and a list of sampling sites and corresponding field data. The emplacement mechanism and depth of the dyke swarm are discussed in detail, and it is concluded that the dykes were emplaced during the initial rifting prior to the Nagssugtoqidian collision and that they are unrelated to subduction processes (contrary to the belief by some previous authors). The next three papers provide geochronological constraints on the ages of supra- and infracrustal rocks and the deformation and metamorphism in the northern Nagssugtoqidian orogen, and on late orogenic uplift in the central Rinkian fold belt. In the first of these papers Thrane & Connelly employ zircon U-Pb age determinations (mainly using the laser ICP-MS method), and for the first time provide unequivocal documentation that the Naternaq supracrustal belt is of Palaeoproterozoic age. Other zircon age data from a synkinematic granite southeast of Kangaatsiaq show that the large fold structures in this region are of Archaean age. The subsequent paper by Stendal et al. presents Pb-Pb ages and isotopic signatures of magnetite in amphibolites; the obtained ages are younger than 1800 Ma and are related to cooling of the orogen. Stepwise leaching Pb-Pb ages of monazite and allanite in pegmatites fall in the range of 1750-1800 Ma, and are interpreted to date the emplacement of these rocks. The third paper in this group, by Sidgren et al., deals with new 40Ar/39Ar ages of around 1790 Ma (hornblende) and 1680 Ma (muscovite) from Archaean and Palaeoproterozoic rocks in the central Rinkian fold belt, which are interpreted as orogenic cooling ages. The hornblende ages are significantly older than such hornblende ages previously obtained from the central and northern Nagssugtoqidian orogen, pointing to different uplift histories in the two regions. This may in turn suggest that the Rinkian continental collision preceded that in the Nagssugtoqidian orogen. Four of the remaining five papers deal with the Nagssugtoqidian structural evolution. In the first of these, van Gool & Piazolo present a new method of structural analysis, where a geographical information system (GIS) is used as a framework for visualisation and analysis of large amounts of structural data. The paper graphically presents an overview of thousands of data points within an area of approximately 160 × 180 km in the central and northern parts of the Nagssugtoqidian orogen. This interesting data set points directly towards the two next papers, where crustal-scale structures in the same region and their origin are discussed: Sørensen et al. address the prominent Nordre Strømfjord shear zone just south of this block, and describes the structural and metasomatic transition into the shear zone by means of aeromagnetic and lithological map patterns and geochemical data. Another paper, by Mazur et al., addresses a prominent break in the structural pattern within the Kangaatsiaq-Aasiaat area, where the southern part acted as a rigid block during the Nagssugtoqidian orogeny and thus preserved its Archaean structure. The fourth paper in this group, by Korstgård et al., combines rock and aeromagnetic data to discuss the relationship between structure, metamorphic facies and total magnetic field intensity anomalies in the southern Nagssugtoqidian orogen. The authors show that static metamorphic boundaries are gradual, whereas boundaries along deformation zones are abrupt. The last paper, by Wilson et al., is a novel remote sensing and field geological analysis of onshore brittle structures related to the complex Ungava fault zone in the Davis Strait, which developed during the Cretaceous-Palaeogene opening of the Labrador Sea - Davis Strait - Baffin Bay seaway. The study area is located in the central Nagssugtoqidian orogen, and the authors carefully establish a distinction between old Nagssugtoqidian and younger structures in the basement rocks and identify five main sets of young lineaments. They conclude that the onshore fault patterns are predominantly of strike-slip nature, and that they reflect the stress fields that governed the opening of the seaway. Acknowledgements The editors are grateful to the 14 external reviewers, each of whom reviewed one or more of the individual papers, for their thorough and constructive work.

The UP Manila Health Policy Development Hub recognizes the invaluable contribution of the participants in theseries of roundtable discussions listed below: RTD: Beyond Hospital Beds: Equity,quality, and service1. Ma. Esmeralda C. Silva, MPAf, MSPPM, PhD,Faculty, College of Public Health, UP Manila2. Leonardo R. Estacio, Jr., MCD, MPH, PhD, Dean,College of Arts and Sciences, UP Manila3. Michael Antonio F. Mendoza, DDM, MM, Faculty,College of Dentistry, UP Manila4. Hilton Y. Lam, MHA, PhD, Chair, UP Manila HealthPolicy Development Hub; Director, Institute of HealthPolicy and Development Studies, University of thePhilippines Manila5. Irma L. Asuncion, MHA, CESO III, Director IV,Bureau of Local Health Systems Development,Department of Health6. Renely Pangilinan-Tungol, MD, CFP, MPM-HSD,Municipal Health Officer, San Fernando, Pampanga7. Salome F. Arinduque, MD, Galing-Pook AwardeeRepresentative, Municipal Health Officer, San Felipe,Zambales8. Carmelita C. Canila, MD, MPH, Faculty, College ofPublic Health, University of the Philippines Manila9. Lester M. Tan, MD, MPH, Division Chief, Bureau ofLocal Health System Development, Department ofHealth10. Anthony Rosendo G. Faraon, MD, Vice President,Zuellig Family Foundation (ZFF)11. Albert Francis E. Domingo, MD, Consultant, HealthSystem strengthening through Public Policy andRegulation, World Health Organization12. Jesus Randy O. Cañal, MD, FPSO-HNS, AssociateDirector, Medical and Regulatory Affairs, AsianHospital and Medical Center13. Christian Edward L. Nuevo, Health Policy and SystemsResearch Fellow, Health Policy Development andPlanning Bureau, Department of Health14. Paolo Victor N. Medina, MD, Assistant Professor 4,College of Medicine, University of the PhilippinesManila15. Jose Rafael A. Marfori, MD, Special Assistant to theDirector, Philippine General Hospital16. Maria Teresa U. Bagaman, Committee Chair, PhilippineSociety for Quality, Inc.17. Maria Theresa G. Vera, MSc, MHA, CESO III, DirectorIV, Health Facility Development Bureau, Departmentof Health18. Ana Melissa F. Hilvano-Cabungcal, MD, AssistantAssociate Dean for Planning & Development, Collegeof Medicine, University of the Philippines Manila19. Fevi Rose C. Paro, Faculty, Department of Communityand Environmental Resource Planning, University ofthe Philippines Los Baños20. Maria Rosa C. Abad, MD, Medical Specialist III,Standard Development Division, Health Facilities andServices Regulation21. Yolanda R. Robles, RPh, PhD, Faculty, College ofPharmacy, University of the Philippines Manila22. Jaya P. Ebuen, RN, Development Manager Officer,CHDMM, Department of Health23. Josephine E. Cariaso, MA, RN, Assistant Professor,College of Nursing, University of the Philippines Manila24. Diana Van Daele, Programme Manager, CooperationSection, European Union25. Maria Paz de Sagun, Project Management Specialist,USAID26. Christopher Muñoz, Member, Yellow Warriors SocietyPhilippinesRTD: Health services and financingroles: Population based- andindividual-based1. Hilton Y. Lam, MHA, PhD, Chair, University of thePhilippines Manila Health Policy Development Hub;Director, Institute of Health Policy and DevelopmentStudies, University of the Philippines Manila2. Ma. Esmeralda C. Silva, MPAf, MSPPM, PhD,Faculty, College of Public Health, University of thePhilippines Manila3. Leonardo R. Estacio, Jr., MCD, MPH, PhD, Dean,College of Arts and Sciences, University of thePhilippines Manila4. Michael Antonio F. Mendoza, DDM, MM, Faculty,College of Dentistry, University of the PhilippinesManila5. Mario C. Villaverde, Undersecretary, Health Policyand Development Systems and Development Team,Department of Health6. Jaime Z. Galvez Tan, MD, Former Secretary, Department of Health7. Marvin C. Galvez, MD, OIC Division Chief, BenefitsDevelopment and Research Department, PhilippineHealth Insurance Corporation8. Alvin B. Caballes, MD, MPE, MPP, Faculty, Collegeof Medicine, University of the Philippines Manila9. Carlos D. Da Silva, Executive Director, Association ofMunicipal Health Maintenance Organization of thePhilippines, Inc.10. Anthony Rosendo G. Faraon, MD, Vice President,Zuellig Family Foundation (ZFF) 11. Albert Francis E. Domingo, MD, Consultant, HealthSystem strengthening through Public Policy andRegulation, World Health Organization12. Salome F. Arinduque, MD, Galing-Pook AwardeeRepresentative, Municipal Health Officer, San Felipe,Zambales13. Michael Ralph M. Abrigo, PhD, Research Fellow,Philippine Institute for Developmental Studies14. Oscar D. Tinio, MD, Committee Chair, Legislation,Philippine Medical Association15. Rogelio V. Dazo, Jr., MD, FPCOM, Legislation,Philippine Medical Association16. Ligaya V. Catadman, MM, Officer-in-charge, HealthPolicy Development and Planning Bureau, Department of Health17. Maria Fatima Garcia-Lorenzo, President, PhilippineAlliance of Patients Organization18. Tomasito P. Javate, Jr, Supervising Economic DevelopmentSpecialist, Health Nutrition and Population Division,National Economic and Development Authority19. Josefina Isidro-Lapena, MD, National Board ofDirector, Philippine Academy of Family Physicians20. Maria Eliza Ruiz-Aguila, MPhty, PhD, Dean, Collegeof Allied Medical Professions, University of thePhilippines Manila21. Ana Melissa F. Hilvano-Cabungcal, MD, AssistantAssociate Dean for Planning & Development, College ofMedicine, University of the Philippines Manila22. Maria Paz P. Corrales, MD, MHA, MPA, Director III,Department of Health-National Capital Region23. Karin Estepa Garcia, MD, Executive Secretary, PhilippineAcademy of Family Physicians24. Adeline A. Mesina, MD, Medical Specialist III,Philippine Health Insurance Corporation25. Glorey Ann P. Alde, RN, MPH, Research Fellow,Department of HealthRTD: Moving towards provincelevel integration throughUniversal Health Care Act1. Hilton Y. Lam, MHA, PhD, Chair, University of thePhilippines Manila Health Policy Development Hub;Director, Institute of Health Policy and DevelopmentStudies, University of the Philippines Manila2. Ma. Esmeralda C. Silva, MPAf, MSPPM, PhD,Faculty, College of Public Health, University of thePhilippines Manila3. Leonardo R. Estacio, Jr., MCD, MPH, PhD, Dean,College of Arts and Sciences, University of thePhilippines Manila4. Michael Antonio F. Mendoza, DDM, MM, Faculty,College of Dentistry, University of the PhilippinesManila5. Mario C. Villaverde, Undersecretary of Health, HealthPolicy and Development Systems and DevelopmentTeam, Department of Health6. Ferdinand A. Pecson, Undersecretary and ExecutiveDirector, Public Private Partnership Center7. Rosanna M. Buccahan, MD, Provincial Health Officer,Bataan Provincial Office8. Lester M. Tan, MD, Division Chief, Bureau of LocalHealth System Development, Department of Health9. Ernesto O. Domingo, MD, FPCP, FPSF, FormerChancellor, University of the Philippines Manila10. Albert Francis E. Domingo, MD, Consultant, HealthSystem strengthening through Public Policy andRegulation, World Health Organization11. Leslie Ann L. Luces, MD, Provincial Health Officer,Aklan12. Rene C. Catan, MD, Provincial Health Officer, Cebu13. Anthony Rosendo G. Faraon, MD, Vice President,Zuellig Family Foundation14. Jose Rafael A. Marfori, MD, Special Assistant to theDirector, Philippine General Hospital15. Jesus Randy O. Cañal, MD, FPSO-HNS, Consultant,Asian Hospital and Medical Center16. Ramon Paterno, MD, Member, Universal Health CareStudy Group, University of the Philippines Manila17. Mayor Eunice U. Babalcon, Mayor, Paranas, Samar18. Zorayda E. Leopando, MD, Former President,Philippine Academy of Family Physicians19. Madeleine de Rosas-Valera, MD, MScIH, SeniorTechnical Consultant, World Bank20. Arlene C. Sebastian, MD, Municipal Health Officer,Sta. Monica, Siargao Island, Mindanao21. Rizza Majella L. Herrera, MD, Acting Senior Manager,Accreditation Department, Philippine Health InsuranceCorporation22. Alvin B. Caballes, MD, MPE, MPP, Faculty, Collegeof Medicine, University of the Philippines Manila23. Pres. Policarpio B. Joves, MD, MPH, MOH, FPAFP,President, Philippine Academy of Family Physicians24. Leilanie A. Nicodemus, MD, Board of Director,Philippine Academy of Family Physicians25. Maria Paz P. Corrales, MD, MHA, MPA, Director III,National Capital Region Office, Department of Health26. Dir. Irma L. Asuncion, MD, MHA, CESO III, DirectorIV, Bureau of Local Health Systems Development,Department of Health27. Bernard B. Argamosa, MD, Mental Health Representative, National Center for Mental Health28. Flerida Chan, Chief, Poverty Reduction Section, JapanInternational Cooperation Agency29. Raul R. Alamis, Chief Health Program Officer, ServiceDelivery Network, Department of Health30. Mary Anne Milliscent B. Castro, Supervising HealthProgram Officer, Department of Health 31. Marikris Florenz N. Garcia, Project Manager, PublicPrivate Partnership Center32. Mary Grace G. Darunday, Supervising Budget andManagement Specialist, Budget and Management Bureaufor the Human Development Sector, Department ofBudget and Management33. Belinda Cater, Senior Budget and Management Specialist,Department of Budget and Management34. Sheryl N. Macalipay, LGU Officer IV, Bureau of LocalGovernment and Development, Department of Interiorand Local Government35. Kristel Faye M. Roderos, OTRP, Representative,College of Allied Medical Professions, University ofthe Philippines Manila36. Jeffrey I. Manalo, Director III, Policy Formulation,Project Evaluation and Monitoring Service, PublicPrivate Partnership Center37. Atty. Phebean Belle A. Ramos-Lacuna, Division Chief,Policy Formulation Division, Public Private PartnershipCenter38. Ricardo Benjamin D. Osorio, Planning Officer, PolicyFormulation, Project Evaluation and MonitoringService, Public Private Partnership Center39. Gladys Rabacal, Program Officer, Japan InternationalCooperation Agency40. Michael Angelo Baluyot, Nurse, Bataan Provincial Office41. Jonna Jane Javier Austria, Nurse, Bataan Provincial Office42. Heidee Buenaventura, MD, Associate Director, ZuelligFamily Foundation43. Dominique L. Monido, Policy Associate, Zuellig FamilyFoundation44. Rosa Nene De Lima-Estellana, RN, MD, Medical OfficerIII, Department of Interior and Local Government45. Ma Lourdes Sangalang-Yap, MD, FPCR, Medical OfficerIV, Department of Interior and Local Government46. Ana Melissa F. Hilvano-Cabungcal, MD, AssistantAssociate Dean for Planning & Development, College ofMedicine, University of the Philippines Manila47. Colleen T. Francisco, Representative, Department ofBudget and Management48. Kristine Galamgam, Representative, Department ofHealth49. Fides S. Basco, Officer-in-charge, Chief Budget andManagement Specialist, Development of Budget andManagementRTD: Health financing: Co-paymentsand Personnel1. Hilton Y. Lam, MHA, PhD, Chair, University of thePhilippines Manila Health Policy Development Hub;Director, Institute of Health Policy and DevelopmentStudies, University of the Philippines Manila2. Ma. Esmeralda C. Silva, MPAf, MSPPM, PhD,Faculty, College of Public Health, University of thePhilippines Manila3. Leonardo R. Estacio, Jr., MCD, MPH, PhD, Dean,College of Arts and Sciences, University of thePhilippines Manila4. Michael Antonio F. Mendoza, DDM, MM, Faculty,College of Dentistry, University of the Philippines Manila5. Ernesto O. Domingo, MD, Professor Emeritus,University of the Philippines Manila6. Irma L. Asuncion, MHA, CESO III, Director IV,Bureau of Local Health Systems Development,Department of Health7. Lester M. Tan, MD, MPH, Division Chief, Bureau ofLocal Health System Development, Department ofHealth8. Marvin C. Galvez, MD, OIC Division Chief, BenefitsDevelopment and Research Department, PhilippineHealth Insurance Corporation9. Adeline A. Mesina, MD, Medical Specialist III, BenefitsDepartment and Research Department, PhilippineHealth Insurance Corporation10. Carlos D. Da Silva, Executive Director, Association ofHealth Maintenance Organization of the Philippines,Inc.11. Ma. Margarita Lat-Luna, MD, Deputy Director, FiscalServices, Philippine General Hospital12. Waldemar V. Galindo, MD, Chief of Clinics, Ospital ngMaynila13. Albert Francis E. Domingo, MD, Consultant, HealthSystem strengthening through Public Policy andRegulation, World Health Organization14. Rogelio V. Dazo, Jr., MD, Member, Commission onLegislation, Philippine Medical Association15. Aileen R. Espina, MD, Board Member, PhilippineAcademy of Family Physicians16. Anthony R. Faraon, MD, Vice President, Zuellig FamilyFoundation17. Jesus Randy O. Cañal, Associate Director, Medical andRegulatory Affairs, Asian Hospital and Medical Center18. Jared Martin Clarianes, Technical Officer, Union of LocalAuthorities of the Philippines19. Leslie Ann L. Luces, MD, Provincial Health Officer,Aklan20. Rosa Nene De Lima-Estellana, MD, Medical OfficerIII, Department of the Interior and Local Government21. Ma. Lourdes Sangalang-Yap, MD, Medical Officer V,Department of the Interior and Local Government 22. Dominique L. Monido, Policy Associate, Zuellig FamilyFoundation23. Krisch Trine D. Ramos, MD, Medical Officer, PhilippineCharity Sweepstakes Office24. Larry R. Cedro, MD, Assistant General Manager, CharitySector, Philippine Charity Sweepstakes Office25. Margarita V. Hing, Officer in Charge, ManagementDivision, Financial Management Service Sector,Department of Health26. Dr. Carlo Irwin Panelo, Associate Professor, College ofMedicine, University of the Philippines Manila27. Dr. Angelita V. Larin, Faculty, College of Public Health,University of the Philippines Manila28. Dr. Abdel Jeffri A. Abdulla, Chair, RegionalizationProgram, University of the Philippines Manila29. Christopher S. Muñoz, Member, Philippine Alliance ofPatients Organization30. Gemma R. Macatangay, LGOO V, Department ofInterior and Local Government – Bureau of LocalGovernment Development31. Dr. Narisa Portia J. Sugay, Acting Vice President, QualityAssurance Group, Philippine Health InsuranceCorporation32. Maria Eliza R. Aguila, Dean, College of Allied MedicalProfessions, University of the Philippines Manila33. Angeli A. Comia, Manager, Zuellig Family Foundation34. Leo Alcantara, Union of Local Authorities of thePhilippines35. Dr. Zorayda E. Leopando, Former President, PhilippineAcademy of Family Physicians36. Dr. Emerito Jose Faraon, Faculty, College of PublicHealth, University of the Philippines Manila37. Dr. Carmelita C. Canila, Faculty, College of PublicHealth, University of the Philippines ManilaRTD: Moving towards third partyaccreditation for health facilities1. Hilton Y. Lam, MHA, PhD, Chair, University of thePhilippines Manila Health Policy Development Hub;Director, Institute of Health Policy and DevelopmentStudies, University of the Philippines Manila2. Ma. Esmeralda C. Silva, MPAf, MSPPM, PhD,Faculty, College of Public Health, University of thePhilippines Manila3. Leonardo R. Estacio, Jr., MCD, MPH, PhD, Dean,College of Arts and Sciences, University of thePhilippines Manila4. Michael Antonio F. Mendoza, DDM, MM, Faculty,College of Dentistry, University of the PhilippinesManila5. Rizza Majella L. Herrera, MD, Acting SeniorManager, Accreditation Department, Philippine HealthInsurance Corporation6. Bernadette C. Hogar-Manlapat, MD, FPBA, FPSA,FPSQua, MMPA, President and Board of Trustee,Philippine Society for Quality in Healthcare, Inc.7. Waldemar V. Galindo, MD, Chief of Clinics, Ospital ngMaynila8. Amor. F. Lahoz, Division Chief, Promotion andDocumentation Division, Department of Trade andIndustry – Philippine Accreditation Bureau9. Jenebert P. Opinion, Development Specialist, Department of Trade and Industry – Philippine AccreditationBureau10. Maria Linda G. Buhat, President, Association ofNursing Service Administrators of the Philippines, Inc.11. Bernardino A. Vicente, MD, FPPA, MHA, CESOIV, President, Philippine Tripartite Accreditation forHealth Facilities, Inc.12. Atty. Bu C. Castro, MD, Board Member, PhilippineHospital Association13. Cristina Lagao-Caalim, RN, MAN, MHA, ImmediatePast President and Board of Trustee, Philippine Societyfor Quality in Healthcare, Inc.14. Manuel E. Villegas Jr., MD, Vice Treasurer and Board ofTrustee, Philippine Society for Quality in Healthcare,Inc.15. Michelle A. Arban, Treasurer and Board of Trustee,Philippine Society for Quality in Healthcare, Inc.16. Joselito R. Chavez, MD, FPCP, FPCCP, FACCP,CESE, Deputy Executive Director, Medical Services,National Kidney and Transplant Institute17. Blesilda A. Gutierrez, CPA, MBA, Deputy ExecutiveDirector, Administrative Services, National Kidney andTransplant Institute18. Eulalia C. Magpusao, MD, Associate Director, Qualityand Patient Safety, St. Luke’s Medical Centre GlobalCity19. Clemencia D. Bondoc, MD, Auditor, Association ofMunicipal Health Officers of the Philippines20. Jesus Randy O. Cañal, MD, FPSO-HNS, AssociateDirector, Medical and Regulatory Affairs, Asian Hospitaland Medical Center21. Maria Fatima Garcia-Lorenzo, President, PhilippineAlliance of Patient Organizations22. Leilanie A. Nicodemus, MD, Board of Directors,Philippine Academy of Family Physicians23. Policarpio B. Joves Jr., MD, President, PhilippineAcademy of Family Physicians24. Kristel Faye Roderos, Faculty, College of Allied MedicalProfessions, University of the Philippines Manila25. Ana Melissa Hilvano-Cabungcal, MD, AssistantAssociate Dean, College of Medicine, University of thePhilippines Manila26. Christopher Malorre Calaquian, MD, Faculty, Collegeof Medicine, University of the Philippines Manila27. Emerito Jose C. Faraon, MD, Faculty, College ofPublic Health, University of the Philippines Manila 28. Carmelita Canila, Faculty, College of Public Health,University of the Philippines Manila29. Oscar D. Tinio, MD, Representative, Philippine MedicalAssociation30. Farrah Rocamora, Member, Philippine Society forQuality in Healthcare, IncRTD: RA 11036 (Mental Health Act):Addressing Mental Health Needs ofOverseas Filipino Workers1. Hilton Y. Lam, MHA, PhD, Chair, University of thePhilippines Manila Health Policy Development Hub;Director, Institute of Health Policy and DevelopmentStudies, University of the Philippines Manila2. Leonardo R. Estacio, Jr., MCD, MPH, PhD, UPManila Health Policy Development Hub; College ofArts and Sciences, UP Manila3. Ma. Esmeralda C. Silva, MPAf, MSPPM, PhD, UPManila Health Policy Development Hub; College ofPublic Health, UP Manila4. Michael Antonio F. Mendoza, DDM, UP ManilaHealth Policy Development Hub; College of Dentistry,UP Manila5. Frances Prescilla L. Cuevas, RN, MAN, Director,Essential Non-Communicable Diseases Division,Department of Health6. Maria Teresa D. De los Santos, Workers Education andMonitoring Division, Philippine Overseas EmploymentAdministration7. Andrelyn R. Gregorio, Policy Program and Development Office,Overseas Workers Welfare Administration8. Sally D. Bongalonta, MA, Institute of Family Life &Children Studies, Philippine Women’s University9. Consul Ferdinand P. Flores, Department of ForeignAffairs10. Jerome Alcantara, BLAS OPLE Policy Center andTraining Institute11. Andrea Luisa C. Anolin, Commission on FilipinoOverseas12. Bernard B. Argamosa, MD, DSBPP, National Centerfor Mental Health13. Agnes Joy L. Casino, MD, DSBPP, National Centerfor Mental Health14. Ryan Roberto E. Delos Reyes, Employment Promotionand Workers Welfare Division, Department of Laborand Employment15. Sheralee Bondad, Legal and International AffairsCluster, Department of Labor and Employment16. Rhodora A. Abano, Center for Migrant Advocacy17. Nina Evita Q. Guzman, Ugnayan at Tulong para saMaralitang Pamilya (UGAT) Foundation, Inc.18. Katrina S. Ching, Ugnayan at Tulong para sa MaralitangPamilya (UGAT) Foundation, Inc.RTD: (Bitter) Sweet Smile of Filipinos1. Dr. Hilton Y. Lam, Institute of Health Policy andDevelopment Studies, NIH2. Dr. Leonardo R. Estacio, Jr., College of Arts andSciences, UP Manila3. Dr. Ma. Esmeralda C. Silva, College of Public Health,UP Manila4. Dr. Michael Antonio F. Mendoza, College of Dentistry,UP Manila5. Dr. Ma. Susan T. Yanga-Mabunga, Department ofHealth Policy & Administration, UP Manila6. Dr. Danilo L. Magtanong, College of Dentistry, UPManila7. Dr. Alvin Munoz Laxamana, Philippine DentalAssociation8. Dr. Fina Lopez, Philippine Pediatric Dental Society, Inc9. Dr. Artemio Licos, Jr.,Department of Health NationalAssociation of Dentists10. Dr. Maria Jona D. Godoy, Professional RegulationCommission11. Ms. Anna Liza De Leon, Philippine Health InsuranceCorporation12. Ms. Nicole Sigmuend, GIZ Fit for School13. Ms. Lita Orbillo, Disease Prevention and Control Bureau14. Mr. Raymond Oxcena Akap sa Bata Philippines15. Dr. Jessica Rebueno-Santos, Department of CommunityDentistry, UP Manila16. Ms. Maria Olivine M. Contreras, Bureau of LocalGovernment Supervision, DILG17. Ms. Janel Christine Mendoza, Philippine DentalStudents Association18. Mr. Eric Raymund Yu, UP College of DentistryStudent Council19. Dr. Joy Memorando, Philippine Pediatric Society20. Dr. Sharon Alvarez, Philippine Association of DentalColleges

Nine Inch Nails have just released a new single; In addition to the usual formats, “The Hand That Feeds” was available for free download in Garageband format. Trent Reznor explained, “For quite some time I’ve been interested in the idea of allowing you the ability to tinker around with my tracks – to create remixes, experiment, embellish or destroy what’s there” (MacMinute 15 April 2005). Reznor invites creativity facilitated by copying and transformation. “Copy” carries connotations of unsavoury notions such as piracy, stealing, fake, and plagiarism. Conversely, in some circumstances copying is acceptable, some situations demand copying. This article examines the treatment of “copy” at the intersection of musical creativity and copyright law with regard to cover versions and sampling. Waldron reminds us that copyright was devised first and foremost with a public benefit in mind (851). This fundamental has been persistently reiterated (H. R Rep. (1909); Sen. Rep. (1909); H. R. Rep. (1988); Patterson & Lindberg 70). The law grants creators a bundle of rights in copyrighted works. Two rights implicated in recorded music are located in the composition and the recording. Many potential uses of copyrighted songs require a license. The Copyright Act 1976, s. 115 provides a compulsory licence for cover versions. In other words, any song can be covered for a statutory royalty fee. The law curtails the extent of the copyright monopoly. Compulsory licensing serves both creative and business sides of the recording industry. First, it ensures creative diversity. Musicians are free to reinterpret cultural soundtracks. Second, it safeguards the composer’s right to generate an income from his work by securing royalties for subsequent usage. Although s. 115 permits a certain degree of artistic licence, it requires “the arrangement shall not change the basic melody or fundamental character of the work”. Notwithstanding this proviso, songs can still be transformed and their meaning reshaped. Johnny Cash was able to provide an insight into the mind of a dying man through covering such songs as Nine Inch Nails’ “Hurt”, Depeche Mode’s “Personal Jesus” and Parker & Charles’ “We’ll Meet Again”. Compulsory licensing was introduced in response to a Supreme Court decision that deprived composers of royalties. Congress recognised: The main object to be desired in expanding copyright protection accorded to music has been to give to the composer an adequate return for the value of his composition, and it has been a serious and difficult task to combine the protection of the composer with the protection of the public, and to so frame an act that it would accomplish the double purpose of securing to the composer and at the same time prevent the formation of oppressive monopolies, which might be founded upon the very rights granted to the composer for the purpose of protecting his interests (H. R. Rep. (1909)). Composers exercise rights over the initial exploitation of a song. Once a recording is released, the right is curtailed to serve the public dimension of copyright. A sampler is a device that allows recorded (sampled) sounds to be triggered from a MIDI keyboard or sequencer. Samplers provide potent tools for transforming sounds – filters, pitch-shifting, time-stretching and effects can warp samples beyond recognition. Sampling is a practice that formed the backbone of rap and hip-hop, features heavily in many forms of electronic music, and has proved invaluable in many studio productions (Rose 73-80; Prendergast 383-84, 415-16, 433-34). Samples implicate both of the musical copyrights mentioned earlier. To legally use a sample, the rights in the recording and the underlying composition must be licensed. Ostensibly, acquiring permission to use the composition poses few obstacles due to the compulsory licence. The sound recording, however, is a different matter entirely. There is no compulsory licence for sound recordings. Copyright owners (usually record labels) are free to demand whatever fees they see fit. For example, SST charged Fatboy Slim $1000 for sampling a Negativland record (Negativland). (Ironically, the sample was itself an unlicensed sample appropriated from a 1966 religious recording.) The price paid by The Verve for sampling an obscure orchestral version of a Rolling Stones song was more substantial. Allan Klein owns the copyright in “The Last Time” released by The Andrew Oldham Orchestra in 1965 (American Hit Network, undated). Licence negotiations for the sample left Klein with 100% of the royalties from the song and The Verve with a bitter taste. To add insult to injury, “Bittersweet Symphony” was attributed to Mick Jagger and Keith Richards when the song was nominated for a Grammy (Superswell, undated). License fees can prove prohibitive to many musicians and may outweigh the artistic merit in using the sample: “Sony wanted five thousand dollars for the Clash sample, which … is one thousand dollars a word. In retrospect, this was a bargain, given the skyrocketing costs of sampling throughout the 1990s” (McLeod 86). Adam Dorn, alias Mocean Worker, tried for nine months to licence a sample of gospel singer Mahalia Jackson. Eventually his persistent requests were met with a demand for $10,000 in advance with royalties of six cents per record. Dorn was working with an album budget of a mere $40 and was expecting to sell 2500 copies (Beaujon 25). Unregulated licensing fees stifle creativity and create a de facto monopoly over recorded music. Although copyright was designed to be an engine of free expression1 it still carries characteristics of its monopolistic, totalitarian heritage. The decision in Bridgeport Music v. Dimension Films supported this monopoly. Judge Guy ruled, “Get a license or do not sample. We do not see this stifling creativity in any significant way” (397). The lack of compulsory licensing and the Bridgeport decision creates an untenable situation for sampling musicians and adversely impacts upon the public benefit derived from creative diversity and transformative works (Netanel 288, 331). The sobering potential for lawsuits, ruinous legal costs, injunctions, damages (to copyright owners as well as master recordings), suppresses the creativity of musicians unwilling or unable to pay licence fees (Negativland 251.). I’m a big fan of David Bowie. If I wanted to release a cover version of “Survive”, Bowie and Gabrels (composers) and BMI (publishers) could not prevent it. According the Harry Fox Agency’s online licensing system, it would cost $222.50 (US) for a licence to produce 2500 copies. The compulsory licence demands fidelity to the character of the original. Although my own individual style would be embedded in the cover version, the potential for transformation is limited. Whilst trawling through results from a search for “acapella” on the Soulseek network I found an MP3 of the vocal acapella for “Survive”. Thirty minutes later Bowie was loaded into Sonar 4 and accompanied by a drum loop and bass line whilst I jammed along on guitar and tinkered with synths. Free access to music encourages creative diversity and active cultural participation. Licensing fees, however, may prohibit such creative explorations. Sampling technology offers some truly innovative possibilities for transforming recorded sound. The Roland VariOS can pitch-eliminate; a vocal sample can be reproduced to a melody played by the sampling musician. Although the original singer’s voice is preserved the melody and characteristic nuances can be significantly altered: V-Producer’s Phrase Scope [a system software component] separates the melody from the rest of the phrase, allowing users to re-construct a new melody or add harmonies graphically, or by playing in notes from a MIDI keyboard. Using Phrase Scope, you can take an existing vocal phrase or melodic instrument phrase and change the actual notes, phrasing and vocal gender without unwanted artefacts. Bowie’s original vocal could be aligned with an original melody and set to an original composition. The original would be completely transformed into a new creative work. Unfortunately, EMI is the parent company for Virgin Records, the copyright owner of “Survive”. It is doubtful licence fees could be accommodated by many inspired bedroom producers. EMI’s reaction to DJ Dangermouse’s “Grey Album“ suggests that it would not look upon unlicensed sampling with any favour. Threatening letters from lawyers representing one of the “Big Four” are enough to subjugate most small time producers. Fair use? If a musician is unable to afford a licence, it is unlikely he can afford a fair use defence. Musicians planning only a limited run, underground release may be forgiven for assuming that the “Big Four” have better things to do than trawl through bins of White Labels for unlicensed samples. Professional bootlegger Richard X found otherwise when his history of unlicensed sampling caught up to him: “A certain major label won’t let me use any samples I ask them to. We just got a report back from them saying, ‘Due to Richard’s earlier work of which we are well aware, we will not be assisting him with any future projects’” (Petridis). For record labels “copy” equals “money”. Allan Klein did very well out of licensing his newly acquired “Bittersweet Symphony” to Nike (Superswell). Inability to afford either licences or legal costs means that some innovative and novel creations will never leave the bedroom. Sampling masterpieces such as “It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back” are no longer cost effective (McLeod). The absence of a compulsory licence for sampling permits a de facto monopoly over recorded music. Tricia Rose notes the recording industry knows the value of “copy” (90). “Copy” is permissible as long as musicians pay for the privilege – if the resultant market for the sampling song is not highly profitable labels may decline to negotiate a licence. Some parties have recognised the value of the desire to creatively engage with music. UK (dis)band(ed) Curve posted component samples of their song “Unreadable Communication” on their website and invited fans to create their own versions of the song. All submissions were listed on the website. Although the band reserved copyright, they permitted me to upload my version to my online distribution website for free download. It has been downloaded 113 times and streamed a further 112 times over the last couple of months. The remix project has a reciprocal dimension: Creative engagement strengthens the fan base. Guitarist/programmer, Dean Garcia, states “the main reason for posting the samples is for others to experiment with something they love . . . an opportunity as you say to mess around with something you otherwise would never have access to2”. Umixit is testing the market for remixable songs. Although the company has only five bands on its roster (the most notable being Aerosmith), it will be interesting to observe the development of a market for “neutered sampling” and how long it will be before the majors claim a stake. The would-be descendants of Grand Master Flash and Afrika Bambaataa may find themselves bound by end-user licences and contracts. The notion of “copy” at the nexus of creativity and copyright law is simultaneously a vehicle for free expression and a vulgar infringement on a valuable economic interest. The compulsory licence for cover versions encourages musicians to rework existing music, uncover hidden meaning, challenge the boundaries of genre, and actively participate in culture creation. Lack of affirmative congressional or judicial interference in the current sampling regime places the beneficial aspects of “copy” under an oppressive monopoly founded on copyright, an engine of free expression. References American Hit Network. “Bittersweet Symphony – The Verve.” Undated. 17 April 2005 http://www.americanhitnetwork.com/1990/fsongs.cfm?id=8&view=detail&rank=1>. Beaujon, A. “It’s Not The Beat, It’s the Mocean.’ CMJ New Music Monthly, April 1999. EMI. “EMI and Orange Announce New Music Deal.” Immediate Future: PR & Communications, 6 January 2005. 17 April 2005 http://www.immediatefuture.co.uk/359>. H. R. Rep. No. 2222. 60th Cong., 2nd Sess. 7. 1909. H. R. Rep. No. 609. 100th Cong., 2nd Sess. 23. 1988. MacMinute. “NIN Offers New Single in GarageBand Format.” 15 April 2005. 16 April 2005 http://www.macminute.com/2005/04/15/nin/>. McLeod, K. “How Copyright Law Changed Hip Hop: An Interview with Public Enemy’s Chuck D and Hank Shocklee.” Stay Free 2002, 23 June 2004 http://www.stayfreemagazine.org/archives/20/public_enemy.html>. McLeod, K. Freedom of Expression: Overzealous Copyright Bozos and Other Enemies of Creativity. United States: Doubleday Books, 2005. Negativland. “Discography.” Undated. 18 April 2005 http://www.negativland.com/negdisco.html>. Negativland (ed.). Fair Use: The Story of the Letter U and the Numeral 2. Concord: Seeland, 2005. Netanel, N. W. “Copyright and a Democratic Civil Society.” 106 Yale L. J. 283. 1996. Patterson, L.R., and S. Lindberg. The Nature of Copyright: A Law of Users’ Rights. Georgia: U of Georgia P, 1991. Petridis, A. “Pop Will Eat Itself.” The Guardian (UK) 2003. 22 June 2004 http://www.guardian.co.uk/arts/critic/feature/0,1169,922797,00.html>. Prendergast, M. The Ambient Century: From Mahler to Moby – The Evolution of Sound in the Electronic Age. London: Bloomsbury, 2003. Rose, T. Black Noise: Rap Music and Black Culture in Contemporary America. Middletown: Wesleyan UP, 2004. Sen. Rep. No. 1108, 60th Cong., 2nd Sess. 7. 1909. Superswell. “Horror Stories.” 17 April 2005 http://www.superswell.com/samplelaw/horror.html>. Waldron, J. “From Authors to Copiers: Individual Rights and Social Values in Intellectual Property.” 68 Chicago-Kent Law Review 842, 1998. Endnotes 1 Harper & Row, Publishers, Inc. v. Nation Enterprises 471 U.S. 539, 558 (1985). 2 From personal correspondence with Curve dated 16 September 2004. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Collins, Steve. "Good Copy, Bad Copy: Covers, Sampling and Copyright." M/C Journal 8.3 (2005). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0507/02-collins.php>. APA Style Collins, S. (Jul. 2005) "Good Copy, Bad Copy: Covers, Sampling and Copyright," M/C Journal, 8(3). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0507/02-collins.php>.

In PilsenTwenty-six Station Road,She climbed to the third floorUp stairs which were all that was leftOf the whole house,She opened her doorFull on to the sky,Stood gaping over the edge.For this was the placeThe world ended.Thenshe locked up carefullylest someone stealSiriusor Aldebaranfrom her kitchen,went back downstairsand settled herselfto waitfor the house to rise againand for her husband to rise from the ashesand for her children’s hands and feet to be stuck back in placeIn the morning they found herstill as stone, sparrows pecking her hands.Five Minutes after the Air Raidby Miroslav Holub(Calder 287) Holding Still Detonation. Affect. During the Second World War, London and other European cities were subjected to the terrors of aerial bombardment, rendered through nightmarish anticipations of the bomber (Gollin 7) and the material storm of the real air-raid. The fall of bombs plagued cities and their citizens with the terrible rain of explosives and incendiary weapons. A volatile landscape was formed as the urban environment was ‘unmade’ and urged into violent motion. Flying projectiles of shrapnel, debris and people; avalanches of collapsing factories and houses; the inhale and exhale of compressed air and firestorms; the scream of the explosion. All these composed an incredibly fluid urban traumatic, as atmospheres fell over the cities that was thick with smoke, dust, and ventilated only by terror (see for instance Sebald 10 and Mendieta’s 3 recent commentary). Vast craters were imprinted onto the charred morphologies of London and Berlin as well as Coventry, Hamburg and Dresden. Just as the punctuations of the bombing saw the psychic as well as the material give way, writers portraying Britain as an ‘volcano island’ (Spaight 5) witnessed eruptive projections – the volleys of the material air-war; the emotional signature of charged and bitter reprisals; pain, anguish and vengeance - counter-strikes of affect. In the midst of all of this molten violence and emotion it seems impossible that a simultaneous sense of quiescence could be at all possible. More than mere physical fixity or geographical stasis, a rather different sort of experience could take place. Preceding, during and following the excessive mobilisation of an air raid, ‘stillness’ was often used to describe certain plateuing stretches of time-space which were slowed and even stopped (Anderson 740). Between the eruptions appeared hollows of calm and even boredom. People’s nervous flinching under the reverberation of high-explosive blasts formed part of what Jordan Crandall might call a ‘bodily-inclination’ position. Slackened and taut feelings condensed around people listening out for the oncoming bomber. People found that they prepared for the dreadful wail of the siren, or relaxed in the aftermath of the attack. In these instances, states of tension and apprehension as well as calm and relief formed though stillness. The peculiar experiences of ‘stillness’ articulated in these events open out, I suggest, distinctive ways-of-being which undo our assumptions of perpetually fluid subjectivities and the primacy of the ‘body in motion’ even within the context of unparalleled movement and uncertainty (see Harrison 423 and also Rose and Wylie 477 for theoretical critique). The sorts of “musics of stillness and silence able to be discovered in a world of movement” (Thrift, Still 50), add to our understandings of the material geographies of war and terror (see for instance Graham 63; Gregory and Pred 3), whilst they gesture towards complex material-affective experiences of bodies and spaces. Stillness in this sense, denotes apprehending and anticipating spaces and events in ways that sees the body enveloped within the movement of the environment around it; bobbing along intensities that course their way through it; positioned towards pasts and futures that make themselves felt, and becoming capable of intense forms of experience and thought. These examples illustrate not a shutting down of the body to an inwardly focused position – albeit composed by complex relations and connections – but bodies finely attuned to their exteriors (see Bissell, Animating 277 and Conradson 33). In this paper I draw from a range of oral and written testimony archived at the Imperial War Museum and the Mass Observation wartime regular reports. Edited publications from these collections were also consulted. Detailing the experience of aerial bombing during the Blitz, particularly on London between September 1940 to May 1941, forms part of a wider project concerning the calculative and affective dimensions of the aeroplane’s relationship with the human body, especially through the spaces it has worked to construct (infrastructures such as airports) and destroy. While appearing extraordinary, the examples I use are actually fairly typical of the patternings of experience and the depth and clarity with which they are told. They could be taken to be representative of the population as a whole or coincidentally similar testimonials. Either way, they are couched within a specific cultural historical context of urgency, threat and unparalleled violence.Anticipations The complex material geographies of an air raid reveal the ecological interdependencies of populations and their often urban environments and metabolisms (Coward 419; Davis 3; Graham 63; Gregory The Colonial 19; Hewitt Place 257). Aerial warfare was an address of populations conceived at the register of their bio-rhythmical and metabolic relationship to their milieu (Adey). The Blitz and the subsequent Allied bombing campaign constituted Churchill’s ‘great experiment’ for governments attempting to assess the damage an air raid could inflict upon a population’s nerves and morale (Brittain 77; Gregory In Another 88). An anxious and uncertain landscape constructed before the war, perpetuated by public officials, commentators and members of parliament, saw background affects (Ngai 5) of urgency creating an atmosphere that pressurised and squeezed the population to prepare for the ‘gathering storm’. Attacks upon the atmosphere itself had been readily predicted in the form of threatening gas attacks ready to poison the medium upon which human and animal life depended (Haldane 111; Sloterdijk 41-57). One of the most talked of moments of the Blitz is not necessarily the action but the times of stillness that preceded it. Before and in-between an air raid stillness appears to describe a state rendered somewhere between the lulls and silences of the action and the warnings and the anticipatory feelings of what might happen. In the awaiting bodies, the materialites of silence could be felt as a kind-of-sound and as an atmospheric sense of imminence. At the onset of the first air-raids sound became a signifier of what was on the way (MO 408). Waiting – as both practice and sensation – imparted considerable inertia that went back and forth through time (Jeffrey 956; Massumi, Parables 3). For Geographer Kenneth Hewitt, sound “told of the coming raiders, the nearness of bombs, the plight of loved ones” (When the 16). The enormous social survey of Mass Observation concluded that “fear seems to be linked above all with noise” (original emphasis). As one report found, “It is the siren or the whistle or the explosion or the drone – these are the things that terrify. Fear seems to come to us most of all through our sense of hearing” (MO 378). Yet the power of the siren came not only from its capacity to propagate sound and to alert, but the warning held in its voice of ‘keeping silent’. “Prefacing in a dire prolepsis the post-apocalyptic event before the event”, as Bishop and Phillips (97) put it, the stillness of silence was incredibly virtual in its affects, disclosing - in its lack of life – the lives that would be later taken. Devastation was expected and rehearsed by civilians. Stillness formed a space and body ready to spring into movement – an ‘imminent mobility’ as John Armitage (204) has described it. Perched on the edge of devastation, space-times were felt through a sense of impending doom. Fatalistic yet composed expectations of a bomb heading straight down pervaded the thoughts and feelings of shelter dwellers (MO 253; MO 217). Waves of sound disrupted fragile tempers as they passed through the waiting bodies in the physical language of tensed muscles and gritted teeth (Gaskin 36). Silence helped form bodies inclined-to-attention, particularly sensitive to aural disturbances and vibrations from all around. Walls, floors and objects carried an urban bass-line of warning (Goodman). Stillness was forged through a body readied in advance of the violence these materialities signified. A calm and composed body was not necessarily an immobile body. Civilians who had prepared for the attacks were ready to snap into action - to dutifully wear their gas-mask or escape to shelter. ‘Backgrounds of expectation’ (Thrift, Still 36) were forged through non-too-subtle procedural and sequential movements which opened-out new modes of thinking and feeling. Folding one’s clothes and placing them on the dresser in-readiness; pillows and sheets prepared for a spell in the shelter, these were some of many orderly examples (IWM 14595). In the event of a gas attack air raid precautions instructions advised how to put on a gas mask (ARPD 90-92),i) Hold the breath. ii) Remove headgear and place between the knees. iii) Lift the flap of the haversack [ …] iv) Bring the face-piece towards the face’[…](v) Breathe out and continue to breathe in a normal manner The rational technologies of drill, dressage and operational research enabled poise in the face of an eventual air-raid. Through this ‘logistical-life’ (Reid 17), thought was directed towards simple tasks by minutely described instructions. Stilled LifeThe end of stillness was usually marked by a reactionary ‘flinch’, ‘start’ or ‘jump’. Such reactionary ‘urgent analogs’ (Ngai 94; Tomkins 96) often occurred as a response to sounds and movements that merely broke the tension rather than accurately mimicking an air raid. These atmospheres were brittle and easily disrupted. Cars back-firing and changing gear were often complained about (MO 371), just as bringing people out of the quiescence of sleep was a common effect of air-raids (Kraftl and Horton 509). Disorientation was usually fostered in this process while people found it very difficult to carry out the most simple of tasks. Putting one’s clothes on or even making their way out of the bedroom door became enormously problematic. Sirens awoke a ‘conditioned reflex’ to take cover (MO 364). Long periods of sleep deprivation brought on considerable fatigue and anxiety. ‘Sleep we Must’ wrote journalist Ritchie Calder (252) noticing the invigorating powers of sleep for both urban morale and the bare existence of survival. For other more traumatized members of the population, psychological studies found that the sustained concentration of shelling caused what was named ‘apathy-retreat’ (Harrisson, Living 65). This extreme form of acquiescence saw especially susceptible and vulnerable civilians suffer an overwhelming urge to sleep and to be cared-for ‘as if chronically ill’ (Janis 90). A class and racial politics of quiescent affect was enacted as several members of the population were believed far more liable to ‘give way’ to defeat and dangerous emotions (Brittain 77; Committee of Imperial Defence).In other cases it was only once an air-raid had started that sleep could be found (MO 253). The boredom of waiting could gather in its intensity deforming bodies with “the doom of depression” (Anderson 749). The stopped time-spaces in advance of a raid could be soaked with so much tension that the commencement of sirens, vibrations and explosions would allow a person overwhelming relief (MO 253). Quoting from a boy recalling his experiences in Hannover during 1943, Hewitt illustrates:I lie in bed. I am afraid. I strain my ears to hear something but still all is quiet. I hardly dare breathe, as if something horrible is knocking at the door, at the windows. Is it the beating of my heart? ... Suddenly there seems relief, the sirens howl into the night ... (Heimatbund Niedersachsen 1953: 185). (Cited in Hewitt, When 16)Once a state of still was lost getting it back required some effort (Bissell, Comfortable 1697). Cautious of preventing mass panic and public hysteria by allowing the body to erupt outwards into dangerous vectors of mobility, the British government’s schooling in the theories of panicology (Orr 12) and contagious affect (Le Bon 17; Tarde 278; Thrift, Intensities 57; Trotter 140), made air raid precautions (ARP) officers, police and civil defence teams enforce ‘stay put’ and ‘hold firm’ orders to protect the population (Jones et al, Civilian Morale 463, Public Panic 63-64; Thomas 16). Such orders were meant to shield against precisely the kinds of volatile bodies they were trying to compel with their own bombing strategies. Reactions to the Blitz were moralised and racialised. Becoming stilled required self-conscious work by a public anxious not to be seen to ‘panic’. This took the form of self-disciplination. People exhausted considerable energy to ‘settle’ themselves down. It required ‘holding’ themselves still and ‘together’ in order to accomplish this state, and to avoid going the same way as the buildings falling apart around them, as some people observed (MO 408). In Britain a cup of tea was often made as a spontaneous response in the event of the conclusion of a raid (Brown 686). As well as destroying bombing created spaces too – making space for stillness (Conradson 33). Many people found that they could recall their experiences in vivid detail, allocating a significant proportion of their memories to the recollection of the self and an awareness of their surroundings (IWM 19103). In this mode of stillness, contemplation did not turn-inwards but unfolded out towards the environment. The material processual movement of the shell-blast literally evacuated all sound and materials from its centre to leave a vacuum of negative pressure. Diaries and oral testimonies stretch out these millisecond events into discernable times and spaces of sensation, thought and the experience of experience (Massumi, Parables 2). Extraordinarily, survivors mention serene feelings of quiet within the eye of the blast (see Mortimer 239); they had, literally, ‘no time to be frightened’ (Crighton-Miller 6150). A shell explosion could create such intensities of stillness that a sudden and distinctive lessening of the person and world are expressed, constituting ‘stilling-slowing diminishments’ (Anderson 744). As if the blast-vacuum had sucked all the animation from their agency, recollections convey passivity and, paradoxically, a much more heightened and contemplative sense of the moment (Bourke 121; Thrift, Still 41). More lucid accounts describe a multitude of thoughts and an attention to minute detail. Alternatively, the enormous peaking of a waking blast subdued all later activities to relative obsolescence. The hurricane of sounds and air appear to overload into the flatness of an extended and calmed instantaneous present.Then the whistling stopped, then a terrific thump as it hit the ground, and everything seem to expand, then contract with deliberation and stillness seemed to be all around. (As recollected by Bill and Vi Reagan in Gaskin 17)On the other hand, as Schivelbusch (7) shows us in his exploration of defeat, the cessation of war could be met with an outburst of feeling. In these micro-moments a close encounter with death was often experienced with elation, a feeling of peace and well-being drawn through a much more heightened sense of the now (MO 253). These are not pre-formed or contemplative techniques of attunement as Thrift has tracked, but are the consequence of significant trauma and the primal reaction to extreme danger.TracesSusan Griffin’s haunting A Chorus of Stones documents what she describes as a private life of war (1). For Griffin, and as shown in these brief examples, stillness and being-stilled describe a series of diverse experiences endured during aerial bombing. Yet, as Griffin narrates, these are not-so private lives. A common representation of air war can be found in Henry Moore’s tube shelter sketches which convey sleeping tube-dwellers harboured in the London underground during the Blitz. The bodies are represented as much more than individuals being connected by Moore’s wave-like shapes into the turbulent aggregation of a choppy ocean. What we see in Moore’s portrayal and the examples discussed already are experiences with definite relations to both inner and outer worlds. They refer to more-than individuals who bear intimate relations to their outsides and the atmospheric and material environments enveloping and searing through them. Stillness was an unlikely state composed through these circulations just as it was formed as a means of address. It was required in order to apprehend sounds and possible events through techniques of listening or waiting. Alternatively being stilled could refer to pauses between air-strikes and the corresponding breaks of tension in the aftermath of a raid. Stillness was composed through a series of distributed yet interconnecting bodies, feelings, materials and atmospheres oriented towards the future and the past. The ruins of bombed-out building forms stand as traces even today. Just as Massumi (Sensing 16) describes in the context of architecture, the now static remainder of the explosion “envelops in its stillness a deformational field of which it stands as the trace”. The ruined forms left after the attack stand as a “monument” of the passing of the raid to be what it once was – house, factory, shop, restaurant, library - and to become something else. The experience of those ‘from below’ (Hewitt 2) suffering contemporary forms of air-warfare share many parallels with those of the Blitz. Air power continues to target, apparently more precisely, the affective tones of the body. Accessed by kinetic and non-kinetic forces, the signs of air-war are generated by the shelling of Kosovo, ‘shock and awe’ in Iraq, air-strikes in Afghanistan and by the simulated air-raids of IDF aircraft producing sonic-booms over sleeping Palestinian civilians, now becoming far more real as I write in the final days of 2008. Achieving stillness in the wake of aerial trauma remains, even now, a way to survive the (private) life of air war. AcknowledgementsI’d like to thank the editors and particularly the referees for such a close reading of the article; time did not permit the attention their suggestions demanded. Grateful acknowledgement is also made to the AHRC whose funding allowed me to research and write this paper. ReferencesAdey, Peter. Aerial Geographies: Mobilities, Bodies and Subjects. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010 (forthcoming). 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In 2013, the Capricornia Arts Mob (CAM), an Indigenous collective of artists situated in Rockhampton, central Queensland, Australia, successfully tendered for one of three public art projects that were grouped under the title Flood Markers (Roberts; Roberts and Mackay; Robinson and Mackay). Commissioned as part of the Queensland Government's Community Development and Engagement Initiative, Flood Markers aims to increase awareness of Rockhampton’s history, with particular focus on the Fitzroy River and the phenomena of flooding. Honouring Land Connections is CAM’s contribution to the project and consists of several “memory poles” that stand alongside the Fitzroy River in Toonooba Park. Rockhampton lies on Dharumbal Country with Toonooba being the Dharumbal name for the Fitzroy River and the inspiration for the work due to its cultural significance to the Aboriginal people of that region. The name Toonooba, as well as other images and icons including boomerangs, spears, nets, water lily, and frogs, amongst others, are carved, burnt, painted and embedded into the large ironbark poles. These stand with the river on one side and the colonial infrastructure of Rockhampton on the other (see fig. 1, 2 and 3).Figure 1 Figure 2Figure 3Within this article, we discuss Honouring Land Connections as having two main functions which contribute to its significance as Indigenous cultural expression and identity affirmation. Firstly, the memory poles (as well as the process of sourcing materials and producing the final product) are a manifestation of Country and a representation of its stories and lived memories. Honouring Land Connections provides a means for Aboriginal people to revel in Country and maintain connections to a vital component of their being as Indigenous. Secondly, by revealing Indigenous stories, experiences, and memories, Honouring Land Connections emphasises Indigenous voices and perspectives within a place dominated by Eurocentric outlooks and knowledges. Toonooba provides the backdrop on which the complexities of cultural and identity formation within settler-colonial spaces are highlighted whilst revelling in continuous Indigenous presence.Flood Markers as ArtArtists throughout the world have used flood markers as a means of visual expression through which to explore and reveal local histories, events, environments, and socio-cultural understandings of the relationships between persons, places, and the phenomena of flooding. Geertz describes art as a social text embedded within wider socio-cultural systems; providing insight into cultural, social, political, economic, gendered, religious, ethnic, environmental, and biographical contexts. Flood markers are not merely metric tools used for measuring the height of a river, but rather serve as culture artefacts or indexes (Gell Art and Agency; Gell "Technology of Enchantment") that are products and producers of socio-culture contexts and the memories and experiences embedded within them. Through different methods, mediums, and images, artists have created experiential and intellectual spaces where those who encounter their work are encouraged to engage their surroundings in thought provoking and often-new ways.In some cases, flood markers have brought attention to the “character and natural history” of a particular place, where artists such as Louise Lavarack have sought to provoke consciousness of the movement of water across flood plains (Lavarack). In other works, flood markers have served as memorials to individuals such as Gilbert White whose daughter honoured his life and research through installing a glass spire at Boulder Creek, Colorado in 2011 (White). Tragedies such as Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans in 2005 have also been commemorated through flood markers. Artist Christopher Saucedo carved 1,836 waves into a freestanding granite block; each wave representing a life lost (University of New Orleans). The weight of the granite symbolises the endurance and resilience of those who faced, and will continue to face, similar forces of nature. The Pillar of Courage erected in 2011 in Ipswich, Queensland, similarly contains the words “resilience, community, strength, heroes, caring and unity” with each word printed on six separate sections of the pillar, representing the six major floods that have hit the region (Chudleigh).Whilst these flood markers provide valuable insights into local histories, specific to each environmental and socio-cultural context, works such as the Pillar of Courage fail to address Indigenous relationships to Country. By framing flooding as a “natural disaster” to be overcome, rather than an expression of Country to be listened to and understood, Euro and human-centric perspectives are prioritised over Indigenous ways of knowing and being. Indigenous knowledges however encourages a reorientation of Eurocentric responses and relationships to Country, and in doing so challenge compartmentalised views of “nature” where flooding is separated from land and Country (Ingold Perception; Seton and Bradley; Singer). Honouring Land Connections symbolises the voice and eternal presence of Toonooba and counters presentations of flooding that depict it as historian Heather Goodall (36) once saw “as unusual events of disorder in which the river leaves its proper place with catastrophic results.”Country To understand flooding from Indigenous perspectives it is first necessary to discuss Country and apprehend what it means for Indigenous peoples. Country refers to the physical, cosmological, geographical, relational, and emotional setting upon which Indigenous identities and connections to place and kin are embedded. Far from a passive geographic location upon which interactions take place, Country is an active and responsive agent that shapes and contextualises social interactions between and amongst all living beings. Bob Morgan writes of how “Country is more than issues of land and geography; it is about spirituality and identity, knowing who we are and who we are connected to; and it helps us understand how all living things are connected.” Country is also an epistemological frame that is filled with knowledge that may be known and familiarised whilst being knowledge itself (Langton "Sacred"; Rose Dingo; Yunupingu).Central to understanding Country is the fact that it refers to a living being’s spiritual homeland which is the ontological place where relationships are formed and maintained (Yunupingu). As Country nurtures and provides the necessities for survival and prosperity, Indigenous people (but also non-Indigenous populations) have moral obligations to care for Country as kin (Rose Nourishing Terrains). Country is epistemic, relational, and ontological and refers to both physical locations as well as modes of “being” (Heidegger), meaning it is carried from place to place as an embodiment within a person’s consciousness. Sally Morgan (263) describes how “our country is alive, and no matter where we go, our country never leaves us.” Country therefore is fluid and mobile for it is ontologically inseparable to one’s personhood, reflected through phrases such as “I am country” (B. Morgan 204).Country is in continuous dialogue with its surroundings and provides the setting upon which human and non-human beings; topographical features such as mountains and rivers; ancestral beings and spirits such as the Rainbow Snake; and ecological phenomena such as winds, tides, and floods, interact and mutually inform each other’s existence (Rose Nourishing Terrains). For Aboriginal people, understanding Country requires “deep listening” (Atkinson; Ungunmerr), a responsive awareness that moves beyond monological and human-centric understandings of the world and calls for deeper understandings of the mutual and co-dependant relationships that exist within it. The awareness of such mutuality has been discussed through terms such as “kincentrism” (Salmón), “meshworks” (Ingold Lines), “webs of connection” (Hokari), “nesting” (Malpas), and “native science” (Cajete). Such concepts are ways of theorising “place” as relational, physical, and mental locations made up of numerous smaller interactions, each of which contribute to the identity and meaning of place. Whilst each individual agent or object retains its own autonomy, such autonomy is dependent on its wider relation to others, meaning that place is a location where “objectivity, subjectivity and inter-subjectivity converge” (Malpas 35) and where the very essence of place is revealed.Flooding as DialogueWhen positioned within Indigenous frameworks, flooding is both an agent and expression of Toonooba and Country. For the phenomenon to occur however, numerous elements come into play such as the fall of rain; the layout of the surrounding terrain; human interference through built weirs and dams; and the actions and intervention of ancestral beings and spirits. Furthermore, flooding has a direct impact on Country and all life within it. This is highlighted by Dharumbal Elder Uncle Billy Mann (Fitzroy Basin Association "Billy Mann") who speaks of the importance of flooding in bringing water to inland lagoons which provide food sources for Dharumbal people, especially at times when the water in Toonooba is low. Such lagoons remain important places for fishing, hunting, recreational activities, and cultural practices but are reliant on the flow of water caused by the flowing, and at times flooding river, which Uncle Mann describes as the “lifeblood” of Dharumbal people and Country (Fitzroy Basin Association "Billy Mann"). Through her research in the Murray-Darling region of New South Wales, Weir writes of how flooding sustains life though cycles that contribute to ecological balance, providing nourishment and food sources for all beings (see also Cullen and Cullen 98). Water’s movement across land provokes the movement of animals such as mice and lizards, providing food for snakes. Frogs emerge from dry clay plains, finding newly made waterholes. Small aquatic organisms flourish and provide food sources for birds. Golden and silver perch spawn, and receding waters promote germination and growth. Aboriginal artist Ron Hurley depicts a similar cycle in a screen-print titled Waterlily–Darambal Totem. In this work Hurley shows floodwaters washing away old water lily roots that have been cooked in ant bed ovens as part of Dharumbal ceremonies (UQ Anthropology Museum). The cooking of the water lily exposes new seeds, which rains carry to nearby creeks and lagoons. The seeds take root and provide food sources for the following year. Cooking water lily during Dharumbal ceremonies contributes to securing and maintaining a sustainable food source as well as being part of Dharumbal cultural practice. Culture, ecological management, and everyday activity are mutually connected, along with being revealed and revelled in. Aboriginal Elder and ranger Uncle Fred Conway explains how Country teaches Aboriginal people to live in balance with their surroundings (Fitzroy Basin Association "Fred Conway"). As Country is in constant communication, numerous signifiers can be observed on land and waterscapes, indicating the most productive and sustainable time to pursue certain actions, source particular foods, or move to particular locations. The best time for fishing in central Queensland for example is when Wattles are in bloom, indicating a time when fish are “fatter and sweeter” (Fitzroy Basin Association "Fred Conway"). In this case, the Wattle is 1) autonomous, having its own life cycle; 2) mutually dependant, coming into being because of seasonal weather patterns; and 3) an agent of Country that teaches those with awareness how to respond and benefit from its lessons.Dialogue with Country As Country is sentient and responsive, it is vital that a person remains contextually aware of their actions on and towards their surroundings. Indigenous peoples seek familiarity with Country but also ensure that they themselves are known and familiarised by it (Rose Dingo). In a practice likened to “baptism”, Langton ("Earth") describes how Aboriginal Elders in Cape York pour water over the head of newcomers as a way of introducing them to Country, and ensuring that Country knows those who walk upon it. These introductions are done out of respect for Country and are a way of protecting outsiders from the potentially harmful powers of ancestral beings. Toussaint et al. similarly note how during mortuary rites, parents of the deceased take water from rivers and spit it back into the land, symbolising the spirit’s return to Country.Dharumbal man Robin Hatfield demonstrates the importance of not interfering with the dialogue of Country through recalling being told as a child not to disturb Barraru or green frogs. Memmott (78) writes that frogs share a relationship with the rain and flooding caused by Munda-gadda, the Rainbow Snake. Uncle Dougie Hatfield explains the significance of Munda-gadda to his Country stating how “our Aboriginal culture tells us that all the waterways, lagoons, creeks, rivers etc. and many landforms were created by and still are protected by the Moonda-Ngutta, what white people call the Rainbow Snake” (Memmott 79).In the case of Robin Hatfield, to interfere with Barraru’s “business” is to threaten its dialogue with Munda-gadda and in turn the dialogue of Country in form of rain. In addition to disrupting the relational balance between the frog and Munda-gadda, such actions potentially have far-reaching social and cosmological consequences. The rain’s disruption affects the flood plains, which has direct consequences for local flora and transportation and germination of water lily seeds; fauna, affecting the spawning of fish and their movement into lagoons; and ancestral beings such as Munda-gadda who continue to reside within Toonooba.Honouring Land Connections provided artists with a means to enter their own dialogue with Country and explore, discuss, engage, negotiate, and affirm aspects of their indigeneity. The artists wanted the artwork to remain organic to demonstrate honour and respect for Dharumbal connections with Country (Roberts). This meant that materials were sourced from the surrounding Country and the poles placed in a wave-like pattern resembling Munda-gadda. Alongside the designs and symbols painted and carved into the poles, fish skins, birds, nests, and frogs are embalmed within cavities that are cut into the wood, acting as windows that allow viewers to witness components of Country that are often overlooked (see fig. 4). Country therefore is an equal participant within the artwork’s creation and continuing memories and stories. More than a representation of Country, Honouring Land Connections is a literal manifestation of it.Figure 4Opening Dialogue with Non-Indigenous AustraliaHonouring Land Connections is an artistic and cultural expression that revels in Indigenous understandings of place. The installation however remains positioned within a contested “hybrid” setting that is informed by both Indigenous and settler-colonial outlooks (Bhabha). The installation for example is separated from the other two artworks of Flood Markers that explore Rockhampton’s colonial and industrial history. Whilst these are positioned within a landscaped area, Honouring Land Connections is placed where the grass is dying, seating is lacking, and is situated next to a dilapidated coast guard building. It is a location that is as quickly left behind as it is encountered. Its separation from the other two works is further emphasised through its depiction in the project brief as a representation of Rockhampton’s pre-colonial history. Presenting it in such a way has the effect of bookending Aboriginal culture in relation to European settlement, suggesting that its themes belong to a time past rather than an immediate present. Almost as if it is a revelation in and of itself. Within settler-colonial settings, place is heavily politicised and often contested. In what can be seen as an ongoing form of colonialism, Eurocentric epistemologies and understandings of place continue to dominate public thought, rhetoric, and action in ways that legitimise White positionality whilst questioning and/or subjugating other ways of knowing, being, and doing (K. Martin; Moreton-Robinson; Wolfe). This turns places such as Toonooba into agonistic locations of contrasting and competing interests (Bradfield). For many Aboriginal peoples, the memories and emotions attached to a particular place can render it as either comfortable and culturally safe, or as unsafe, unsuitable, unwelcoming, and exclusionary (Fredericks). Honouring Land Connections is one way of publicly asserting and recognising Toonooba as a culturally safe, welcoming, and deeply meaningful place for Indigenous peoples. Whilst the themes explored in Honouring Land Connections are not overtly political, its presence on colonised/invaded land unsettles Eurocentric falsities and colonial amnesia (B. Martin) of an uncontested place and history in which Indigenous voices and knowledges are silenced. The artwork is a physical reminder that encourages awareness—particularly for non-Indigenous populations—of Indigenous voices that are continuously demanding recognition of Aboriginal place within Country. Similar to the boomerangs carved into the poles representing flooding as a natural expression of Country that will return (see fig. 5), Indigenous peoples continue to demand that the wider non-Indigenous population acknowledge, respect, and morally responded to Aboriginal cultures and knowledges.Figure 5Conclusion Far from a historic account of the past, the artists of CAM have created an artwork that promotes awareness of an immediate and emerging Indigenous presence on Country. It creates a space that is welcoming to Indigenous people, allowing them to engage with and affirm aspects of their living histories and cultural identities. Through sharing stories and providing “windows” into Aboriginal culture, Country, and lived experiences (which like the frogs of Toonooba are so often overlooked), the memory poles invite and welcome an open dialogue with non-Indigenous Australians where all may consider their shared presence and mutual dependence on each other and their surroundings.The memory poles are mediatory agents that stand on Country, revealing and bearing witness to the survival, resistance, tenacity, and continuity of Aboriginal peoples within the Rockhampton region and along Toonooba. Honouring Land Connections is not simply a means of reclaiming the river as an Indigenous space, for reclamation signifies something regained after it has been lost. 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‘Complex(ity)’ is currently fashionable in the humanities. Fashions come and go, but in this article I argue that the interest in complexity connects with something deeper, an intellectual revolution that began before complexity became trendy, and will continue after the spotlight passes on. Yet to make this case, and understand and advance this revolution, we need a better take on ‘complexity’. ‘Complex’ is of course complex. In common use it refers to something ‘composed of many interrelated parts’, or problems ‘so complicated or intricate as to be hard to deal with’. I will call this popular meaning, with its positive and negative values, complexity-1. In science it has a more negative sense, complexity-2, referring to the presenting complexity of problems, which science will strip down to underlying simplicity. But recently it has developed positive meanings in both science and humanities. Complexity-3 marks a revolutionarily more positive attitude to complexity in science that does seek to be reductive. Humanities-style complexity-4, which acknowledges and celebrates the inherent complexity of texts and meanings, is basic in contemporary Media and Cultural studies (MaC for short). The underlying root of complex is plico bend or fold, plus con- together, via complector grasp (something), encompass an idea, or person. The double of ‘complex’ is ‘simple’, from Latin simplex, which less obviously also comes from plico, plus semel once, at the same time. ‘Simple’ and ‘complex’ are closer than people think: only a fold or two apart. A key idea is that these elements are interdependent, parts of a single underlying form. ‘Simple(x)’ is another modality of ‘complex’, dialectically related, different in degree not kind, not absolutely opposite. The idea of ‘holding together’ is stronger in Latin complex, the idea of difficulty more prominent in modern usage, yet the term still includes both. The concept ‘complex’ is untenable apart from ‘simple’. This figure maps the basic structures in ‘complexity’. This complexity contains both positive and negative values, science and non-science, academic and popular meanings, with folds/differences and relationships so dynamically related that no aspect is totally independent. This complex field is the minimum context in which to explore claims about a ‘complexity revolution’. Complexity in Science and Humanities In spite of the apparent similarities between Complexity-3 (sciences) and 4 (humanities), in practice a gulf separates them, policed from both sides. If these sides do not talk to each other, as they often do not, the result is not a complex meaning for ‘complex’, but a semantic war-zone. These two forms of complexity connect and collide because they reach into a new space where discourses of science and non-science are interacting more than they have for many years. For many, in both academic communities, a strong, taken-for-granted mindset declares the difference between them is absolute. They assume that if ‘complexity’ exists in science, it must mean something completely different from what it means in humanities or everyday discourse, so different as to be incomprehensible or unusable by humanists. This terrified defence of the traditional gulf between sciences and humanities is not the clinching argument these critics think. On the contrary, it symptomises what needs to be challenged, via the concept complex. One influential critic of this split was Lord Snow, who talked of ‘two cultures’. Writing in class-conscious post-war Britain he regretted the ignorance of humanities-trained ruling elites about basic science, and scientists’ ignorance of humanities. No-one then or now doubts there is a problem. Most MaC students have a science-light education, and feel vulnerable to critiques which say they do not need to know any science or maths, including complexity science, and could not understand it anyway. To understand how this has happened I go back to the 17th century rise of ‘modern science’. The Royal Society then included the poet Dryden as well as the scientist Newton, but already the fissure between science and humanities was emerging in the elite, re-enforcing existing gaps between both these and technology. The three forms of knowledge and their communities continued to develop over the next 400 years, producing the education system which formed most of us, the structure of academic knowledges in which culture, technology and science form distinct fields. Complexity has been implicated in this three-way split. Influenced by Newton’s wonderful achievement, explaining so much (movements of earthly and heavenly bodies) with so little (three elegant laws of motion, one brief formula), science defined itself as a reductive practice, in which complexity was a challenge. Simplicity was the sign of a successful solution, altering the older reciprocity between simplicity and complexity. The paradox was ignored that proof involved highly complex mathematics, as anyone who reads Newton knows. What science held onto was the outcome, a simplicity then retrospectively attributed to the universe itself, as its true nature. Simplicity became a core quality in the ontology of science, with complexity-2 the imperfection which challenged and provoked science to eliminate it. Humanities remained a refuge for a complexity ontology, in which both problems and solutions were irreducibly complex. Because of the dominance of science as a form of knowing, the social sciences developed a reductivist approach opposing traditional humanities. They also waged bitter struggles against anti-reductionists who emerged in what was called ‘social theory’. Complexity-4 in humanities is often associated with ‘post-structuralism’, as in Derrida, who emphasises the irreducible complexity of every text and process of meaning, or ‘postmodernism’, as in Lyotard’s controversial, influential polemic. Lyotard attempted to take the pulse of contemporary Western thought. Among trends he noted were new forms of science, new relationships between science and humanities, and a new kind of logic pervading all branches of knowledge. Not all Lyotard’s claims have worn well, but his claim that something really important is happening in the relationship between kinds and institutions of knowledge, especially between sciences and humanities, is worth serious attention. Even classic sociologists like Durkheim recognised that the modern world is highly complex. Contemporary sociologists agree that ‘globalisation’ introduces new levels of complexity in its root sense, interconnections on a scale never seen before. Urry argues that the hyper-complexity of the global world requires a complexity approach, combining complexity-3 and 4. Lyotard’s ‘postmodernism’ has too much baggage, including dogmatic hostility to science. Humanities complexity-4 has lost touch with the sceptical side of popular complexity-1, and lacks a dialectic relationship with simplicity. ‘Complexity’, incorporating Complexity-1 and 3, popular and scientific, made more complex by incorporating humanities complexity-4, may prove a better concept for thinking creatively and productively about these momentous changes. Only complex complexity in the approach, flexible and interdisciplinary, can comprehend these highly complex new objects of knowledge. Complexity and the New Condition of Science Some important changes in the way science is done are driven not from above, by new theories or discoveries, but by new developments in social contexts. Gibbons and Nowottny identify new forms of knowledge and practice, which they call ‘mode-2 knowledge’, emerging alongside older forms. Mode-1 is traditional academic knowledge, based in universities, organised in disciplines, relating to real-life problems at one remove, as experts to clients or consultants to employers. Mode-2 is orientated to real life problems, interdisciplinary and collaborative, producing provisional, emergent knowledge. Gibbons and Nowottny do not reference postmodernism but are looking at Lyotard’s trends as they were emerging in practice 10 years later. They do not emphasise complexity, but the new objects of knowledge they address are fluid, dynamic and highly complex. They emphasise a new scale of interdisciplinarity, in collaborations between academics across all disciplines, in science, technology, social sciences and humanities, though they do not see a strong role for humanities. This approach confronts and welcomes irreducible complexity in object and methods. It takes for granted that real-life problems will always be too complex (with too many factors, interrelated in too many ways) to be reduced to the sort of problem that isolated disciplines could handle. The complexity of objects requires equivalent complexity in responses; teamwork, using networks, drawing on relevant knowledge wherever it is to be found. Lyotard famously and foolishly predicted the death of the ‘grand narrative’ of science, but Gibbons and Nowottny offer a more complex picture in which modes-1 and 2 will continue alongside each other in productive dialectic. The linear form of science Lyotard attacked is stronger than ever in some ways, as ‘Big Science’, which delivers wealth and prestige to disciplinary scientists, accessing huge funds to solve highly complex problems with a reductionist mindset. But governments also like the idea of mode-2 knowledge, under whatever name, and try to fund it despite resistance from powerful mode-1 academics. Moreover, non-reductionist science in practice has always been more common than the dominant ideology allowed, whether or not its exponents, some of them eminent scientists, chose to call it ‘complexity’ science. Quantum physics, called ‘the new physics’, consciously departed from the linear, reductionist assumptions of Newtonian physics to project an irreducibly complex picture of the quantum world. Different movements, labelled ‘catastrophe theory’, ‘chaos theory’ and ‘complexity science’, emerged, not a single coherent movement replacing the older reductionist model, but loosely linked by new attitudes to complexity. Instead of seeing chaos and complexity as problems to be removed by analysis, chaos and complexity play a more ambiguous role, as ontologically primary. Disorder and complexity are not later regrettable lapses from underlying essential simplicity and order, but potentially creative resources, to be understood and harnessed, not feared, controlled, eliminated. As a taste of exciting ideas on complexity, barred from humanities MaC students by the general prohibition on ‘consorting with the enemy’ (science), I will outline three ideas, originally developed in complexity-3, which can be described in ways requiring no specialist knowledge or vocabulary, beyond a Mode-2 openness to dynamic, interdisciplinary engagement. Fractals, a term coined by mathematician Benoit Mandelbrot, are so popular as striking shapes produced by computer-graphics, circulated on T-shirts, that they may seem superficial, unscientific, trendy. They exist at an intersection between science, media and culture, and their complexity includes transactions across that folded space. The name comes from Latin fractus, broken: irregular shapes like broken shards, which however have their own pattern. Mandelbrot claims that in nature, many such patterns partly repeat on different scales. When this happens, he says, objects on any one scale will have equivalent complexity. Part of this idea is contained in Blake’s famous line: ‘To see the world in a grain of sand’. The importance of the principle is that it fundamentally challenges reductiveness. Nor is it as unscientific as it may sound. Geologists indeed see grains of sand under a microscope as highly complex. In sociology, instead of individuals (literal meaning ‘cannot be divided’) being the minimally simple unit of analysis, individuals can be understood to be as complex (e.g. with multiple identities, linked with many other social beings) as groups, classes or nations. There is no level where complexity disappears. A second concept is ‘fuzzy logic’, invented by an engineer, Zadeh. The basic idea is not unlike the literary critic Empson’s ‘ambiguity’, the sometimes inexhaustible complexity of meanings in great literature. Zadeh’s contribution was to praise the inherent ambiguity and ambiguity of natural languages as a resource for scientists and engineers, making them better, not worse, for programming control systems. Across this apparently simple bridge have flowed many fuzzy machines, more effective than their over-precise brothers. Zadeh crystallised this wisdom in his ‘Principle of incompatibility’: As the complexity of a system increases, our ability to make precise and yet significant statements about its behaviour decreases until a threshold is reached beyond which precision and significance (or relevance) become almost mutually exclusive characteristics (28) Something along these lines is common wisdom in complexity-1. For instance, under the headline “Law is too complex for juries to understand, says judge” (Dick 4), the Chief Justice of Australia, Murray Gleeson, noted a paradox of complexity, that attempts to improve a system by increasing its complexity make it worse (meaningless or irrelevant, as Zadeh said). The system loses its complexity in another sense, that it no longer holds together. My third concept is the ‘Butterfly Effect’, a name coined by Lorenz. The butterfly was this scientist’s poetic fantasy, an imagined butterfly that flaps its wings somewhere on the Andes, and introduces a small change in the weather system that triggers a hurricane in Montana, or Beijing. This idea is another riff on the idea that complex situations are not reducible to component elements. Every cause is so complex that we can never know in advance just what factor will operate in a given situation, or what its effects might be across a highly complex system. Travels in Complexity I will now explore these issues with reference to a single example, or rather, a nested set of examples, each (as in fractal theory) equivalently complex, yet none identical at any scale. I was travelling in a train from Penrith to Sydney in New South Wales in early 2006 when I read a publicity text from NSW State Rail which asked me: ‘Did you know that delays at Sydenham affect trains to Parramatta? Or that a sick passenger on a train at Berowra can affect trains to Penrith?’ No, I did not know that. As a typical commuter I was impressed, and even more so as an untypical commuter who knows about complexity science. Without ostentatious reference to sources in popular science, NSW Rail was illustrating Lorenz’s ‘butterfly effect’. A sick passenger is prosaic, a realistic illustration of the basic point, that in a highly complex system, a small change in one part, so small that no-one could predict it would matter, can produce a massive, apparently unrelated change in another part. This text was part of a publicity campaign with a scientific complexity-3 subtext, which ran in a variety of forms, in their website, in notices in carriages, on the back of tickets. I will use a complexity framework to suggest different kinds of analysis and project which might interest MaC students, applicable to objects that may not refer to be complexity-3. The text does two distinct things. It describes a planning process, and is part of a publicity program. The first, simplifying movement of Mode-1 analysis would see this difference as projecting two separate objects for two different specialists: a transport expert for the planning, a MaC analyst for the publicity, including the image. Unfortunately, as Zadeh warned, in complex conditions simplification carries an explanatory cost, producing descriptions that are meaningless or irrelevant, even though common sense (complexity-1) says otherwise. What do MaC specialists know about rail systems? What do engineers know about publicity? But collaboration in a mode-2 framework does not need extensive specialist knowledge, only enough to communicate with others. MaC specialists have a fuzzy knowledge of their own and other areas of knowledge, attuned by Humanities complexity-4 to tolerate uncertainty. According to the butterfly principle it would be foolish to wish our University education had equipped us with the necessary other knowledges. We could never predict what precise items of knowledge would be handy from our formal and informal education. The complexity of most mode-2 problems is so great that we cannot predict in advance what we will need to know. MaC is already a complex field, in which ‘Media’ and ‘Culture’ are fuzzy terms which interact in different ways. Media and other organisations we might work with are often imbued with linear forms of thought (complexity-2), and want simple answers to simple questions about complex systems. For instance, MaC researchers might be asked as consultants to determine the effect of this message on typical commuters. That form of analysis is no longer respectable in complexity-4 MaC studies. Old-style (complexity-2) effects-research modelled Senders, Messages and Receivers to measure effects. Standard research methods of complexity-2 social sciences might test effects of the message by a survey instrument, with a large sample to allow statistically significant results. Using this, researchers could claim to know whether the publicity campaign had its desired effect on its targeted demographic: presumably inspiring confidence in NSW Rail. However, each of these elements is complex, and interactions between them, and others that don’t enter into the analysis, create further levels of complexity. To manage this complexity, MaC analysts often draw on Foucault’s authority to use ‘discourse’ to simplify analysis. This does not betray the principle of complexity. Complexity-4 needs a simplicity-complexity dialectic. In this case I propose a ‘complexity discourse’ to encapsulate the complex relations between Senders, Receivers and Messages into a single word, which can then be related to other such elements (e.g. ‘publicity discourse’). In this case complexity-3 can also be produced by attending to details of elements in the S-M-R chain, combining Derridean ‘deconstruction’ with expert knowledge of the situation. This Sender may be some combination of engineers and planners, managers who commissioned the advertisement, media professionals who carried it out. The message likewise loses its unity as its different parts decompose into separate messages, leaving the transaction a fraught, unpredictable encounter between multiple messages and many kinds of reader and sender. Alongside its celebration of complexity-3, this short text runs another message: ‘untangling our complex rail network’. This is complexity-2 from science and engineering, where complexity is only a problem to be removed. A fuller text on the web-site expands this second strand, using bullet points and other signals of a linear approach. In this text, there are 5 uses of ‘reliable’, 6 uses of words for problems of complexity (‘bottlenecks’, ‘delays’, ‘congestion’), and 6 uses of words for the new system (‘simpler’, ‘independent’). ‘Complex’ is used twice, both times negatively. In spite of the impression given by references to complexity-3, this text mostly has a reductionist attitude to complexity. Complexity is the enemy. Then there is the image. Each line is a different colour, and they loop in an attractive way, seeming to celebrate graceful complexity-2. Yet this part of the image is what is going to be eliminated by the new program’s complexity-2. The interesting complexity of the upper part of the image is what the text declares is the problem. What are commuters meant to think? And Railcorp? This media analysis identifies a fissure in the message, which reflects a fissure in the Sender-complex. It also throws up a problem in the culture that produced such interesting allusions to complexity science, but has linear, reductionist attitudes to complexity in its practice. We can ask: where does this cultural problem go, in the organisation, in the interconnected system and bureaucracy it manages? Is this culture implicated in the problems the program is meant to address? These questions are more productive if asked in a collaborative mode-2 framework, with an organisation open to such questions, with complex researchers able to move between different identities, as media analyst, cultural analyst, and commuter, interested in issues of organisation and logistics, engaged with complexity in all senses. I will continue my imaginary mode-2 collaboration with Railcorp by offering them another example of fractal analysis, looking at another instant, captured in a brief media text. On Wednesday 14 March, 2007, two weeks before a State government election, a very small cause triggered a systems failure in the Sydney network. A small carbon strip worth $44 which was not properly attached properly threw Sydney’s transport network into chaos on Wednesday night, causing thousands of commuters to be trapped in trains for hours. (Baker and Davies 7) This is an excellent example of a butterfly effect, but it is not labelled as such, nor regarded positively in this complexity-1 framework. ‘Chaos’ signifies something no-one wants in a transport system. This is popular not scientific reductionism. The article goes on to tell the story of one passenger, Mark MacCauley, a quadriplegic left without power or electricity in a train because the lift was not working. He rang City Rail, and was told that “someone would be in touch in 3 to 5 days” (Baker and Davies 7). He then rang emergency OOO, and was finally rescued by contractors “who happened to be installing a lift at North Sydney” (Baker and Davies 7). My new friends at NSW Rail would be very unhappy with this story. It would not help much to tell them that this is a standard ‘human interest’ article, nor that it is more complex than it looks. For instance, MacCauley is not typical of standard passengers who usually concern complexity-2 planners of rail networks. He is another butterfly, whose specific needs would be hard to predict or cater for. His rescue is similarly unpredictable. Who would have predicted that these contractors, with their specialist equipment, would be in the right place at the right time to rescue him? Complexity provided both problem and solution. The media’s double attitude to complexity, positive and negative, complexity-1 with a touch of complexity-3, is a resource which NSW Rail might learn to use, even though it is presented with such hostility here. One lesson of the complexity is that a tight, linear framing of systems and problems creates or exacerbates problems, and closes off possible solutions. In the problem, different systems didn’t connect: social and material systems, road and rail, which are all ‘media’ in McLuhan’s highly fuzzy sense. NSW Rail communication systems were cumbrously linear, slow (3 to 5 days) and narrow. In the solution, communication cut across institutional divisions, mediated by responsive, fuzzy complex humans. If the problem came from a highly complex system, the solution is a complex response on many fronts: planning, engineering, social and communication systems open to unpredictable input from other surrounding systems. As NSW Rail would have been well aware, the story responded to another context. The page was headed ‘Battle for NSW’, referring to an election in 2 weeks, in which this newspaper editorialised that the incumbent government should be thrown out. This political context is clearly part of the complexity of the newspaper message, which tries to link not just the carbon strip and ‘chaos’, but science and politics, this strip and the government’s credibility. Yet the government was returned with a substantial though reduced majority, not the swingeing defeat that might have been predicted by linear logic (rail chaos = electoral defeat) or by some interpretations of the butterfly effect. But complexity-3 does not say that every small cause produces catastrophic effects. On the contrary, it says that causal situations can be so complex that we can never be entirely sure what effects will follow from any given case. The political situation in all its complexity is an inseparable part of the minimal complex situation which NSW Rail must take into account as it considers how to reform its operations. It must make complexity in all its senses a friend and ally, not just a source of nasty surprises. My relationship with NSW Rail at the moment is purely imaginary, but illustrates positive and negative aspects of complexity as an organising principle for MaC researchers today. The unlimited complexity of Humanities’ complexity-4, Derridean and Foucauldian, can be liberating alongside the sometimes excessive scepticism of Complexity-2, but needs to keep in touch with the ambivalence of popular complexity-1. Complexity-3 connects with complexity-2 and 4 to hold the bundle together, in a more complex, cohesive, yet still unstable dynamic structure. It is this total sprawling, inchoate, contradictory (‘complex’) brand of complexity that I believe will play a key role in the up-coming intellectual revolution. But only time will tell. References Baker, Jordan, and Anne Davies. “Carbon Strip Caused Train Chaos.” Sydney Morning Herald 17 Mar. 2007: 7. Derrida, Jacques. Of Grammatology. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins, 1976. Dick, Tim. “Law Is Now Too Complex for Juries to Understand, Says Judge.” Sydney Morning Herald 26 Mar. 2007: 4. Empson, William. Seven Types of Ambiguity. London: Chatto and Windus, 1930. Foucault, Michel. “The Order of Discourse.” In Archaeology of Knowledge, trans. A.M Sheridan Smith. London: Tavistock, 1972. Gibbons, Michael. The New Production of Knowledge. London: Sage, 1994. Lorenz, Edward. The Essence of Chaos. London: University College, 1993. Lyotard, Jean-Francois. The Postmodern Condition. Manchester: Manchester UP, 1984. McLuhan, Marshall. Understanding Media. London: Routledge, 1964. Mandelbrot, Benoit. “The Fractal Geometry of Nature.” In Nina Hall, ed. The New Scientist Guide to Chaos. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1963. Nowottny, Henry. Rethinking Science. London: Polity, 2001. Snow, Charles Percy. The Two Cultures and the Scientific Revolution. London: Faber 1959. Urry, John. Global Complexity. London: Sage, 2003. Zadeh, Lotfi Asker. “Outline of a New Approach to the Analysis of Complex Systems and Decision Processes.” ILEE Transactions on Systems, Man, and Cybernetics 3.1 (1973): 28-44. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Hodge, Bob. "The Complexity Revolution." M/C Journal 10.3 (2007). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0706/01-hodge.php>. APA Style Hodge, B. (Jun. 2007) "The Complexity Revolution," M/C Journal, 10(3). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0706/01-hodge.php>.