Journal articles on the topic 'George H. Mead'

O artigo apresenta uma leitura das obras de George H. Mead e Georg Simmel a respeito do conceito processos de socialização à luz de questões suscitadas no interior do domínio da sociologia da infância. Aborda o desenvolvimento do conceito processos de socialização em Simmel e correlaciona as concepções simmelinas com a obra de Mead a respeito do desenvolvimento do self, com o objetivo de definir os processos de socialização na infância. Visa demonstrar como as obras de Simmel e Mead permitem pensar a infância como um período específico dos processos de socialização, em que as crianças desempenham papéis ativos na construção de seus selves individuais e da sociedade e cultura em que estão inseridas.

<p><em>A recent biography and re-issue of George H. Mead’s Mind, Self, and Society emphasize the emergent meanings of his work and of self’s cognitive and affective dimensions in interaction. Erving Goffman likewise posits an interaction order based on individual and social identity. Mead’s metaphor of fusion furthers recognition of an emotional merging of selves with each other and with emerging community. He initially characterizes this experience as “precious” and illustrates its presence in interactional domains such as teamwork, religion, and patriotism. Among other scholars, Charles Taylor uses fusion to interpret aspects of the contemporary secular age. Application to terrorist identities finds that emotional fusion motivates actions that threaten the moral imperative informing presentation of selves that grounds public order. From a pragmatic perspective, selves in pluralistic contexts must subordinate emotional fusion to functional fusion within an interaction order that fosters a larger self and more inclusive community to address common issues. </em></p>

A investigação proposta busca compreender de que forma o fluxo de consciência constrói, no romance de Cardoso, a não-pertença que o tematiza. A baliza teórica utilizada concerne a psicologia social e o fluxo de consciência, constiuída, respectivamente, por Mente, Self e Sociedade, organizado por Charles W. Morris com as proposições de George H. Mead; e “A meia marrom” (2002, p. 471-498), de Auerbach.

Los procesos de learning by interacting son métodos característicos de los sistemas de innovación, elaborados en el marco del evolucionismo económico. En los sistemas de innovación, el recurso primordial es el conocimiento. Una parte de dicho conocimiento es de orden tácito, y para su aprendizaje se requiere la interacción entre los participantes. En este trabajo, se presentará el pensamiento sobre el interaccionismo simbólico del pragmatista G. H. Mead. Sus ideas brindan elementos de interés para incorporar a los procesos de learnign by interacting, y también a otras áreas de la creatividad y de la innovación.

In this study, I observe the way the character in Leila S. Chudori’s, Pulang, preserves his identity in a foreign country. In analyzing the novel, I use the theory of social symbols by George H. Mead. In the analysis, I find that Dimas uses symbols as Indonesians to preserve his identity. By doing so, he gets the acknowledgement by the Indonesian community as a part of its member even though he lives in different nation. This shows Dimas perceives his identity because he is aware that he is part of Indonesian community. As a result, Dimas can preserve his identity as an Indonesian even though he lives far away from Indonesia.

Este trabalho é sobre a linguagem e sua importância na Psicologia Social. Esta forma de abordar a Psicologia Social através da linguagem resgata as contribuições dos psicólogos soviéticos Vygotsky, Voloshinov e Bakhtin, e do norte-americano George H. Mead. Traça-se, em seguida, o percurso do desenvolvimento teórico da denominada Psicologia "discursiva" dos últimos anos, ressaltando-se sua aproximação com os significados e os efeitos ideológicos e estruturantes da linguagem. A vantagem desta aproximação ao universo simbólico, social e historicamente construído, é a possibilidade de destacar a importância da interação humana e do contexto social na construção e na permanente recriação dos denominados processos psicossociais, tais como percepções, atitudes, idéias, representações, crenças, valores, filiações sociais etc.

Resumo: O artigo em questão apresenta a construção coletiva de uma proposta pedagógica para a Escola Estadual Joaquim José de Medeiros, localizada na cidade de Cruzeta, no Estado do Rio Grande do Norte, e possui como base epistemológica a teoria social de George Herbert Mead, Jürgen Habermas e a teoria crítica da educação da Escola de Frankfurt, nas perspectivas de Max Horkheimer, Theodor Adorno (2003), Jürgen Habermas (2012); e, atualmente, de pesquisadores contemporâneos como Freire (2009), Radl-Philipp (1996, 1998, 2014), Bannell (2006), Pucci (2006), Santos (2007), Medeiros (2010-1016), Casagrande (2014) dentre outros autores que estudam Mead e as teorias críticas numa perspectiva emancipatória. Palavras-chaves: Educação em George Herbert Mead. Escola de Frankfurt e as Teorias hermenêutico-críticas. Educação Emancipatória. Agir Comunicativo. Abstract: The article in question presents the collective construction of a pedagogical proposal for the State School Joaquim José de Medeiros, located in Cruzeta, in the state of Rio Grande do Norte, and it has as epistemological basis the Social theory of George Herbert Mead, and the critical theory of education of the Frankfurt School, in the perspective of Max Horkheimer, Theodor Adorno (2003),Jürgen Habermas (2012), and now of contemporary researchers as Freire (2009), Radl-Philipp (1991, 1996, 1998, 2014), Bannell (2006), Pucci (2006), Santos (2007), Medeiros ( 2010-1016), Casagrande (2010), among others authors who study the critical theories in emancipative perspective. Key-words: Education in George Herbert Mead. Frankfurt School and the hermeneutic-critical Theories. REFERÊNCIAS ABBAGNAMO, N. Dicionário de Filosofia. São Paulo: Martins Fontes, 2007.ADORNO, Theodor W. Educação e Emancipação. São Paulo: Paz e Terra. 2006._______. Teoria da Semiformação. Educação e Sociedade: Revista quadrimestral de ciência da educação, Campinas, Editora Papirus, XVIII, n.56, p. 388-411, dez. 1996.BENJAMIN, Walter. El narrador. In: Para uma critica de la violencia y otros ensaios. Madrid: Taurus, 1991.(Ou, na edição brasileira: Magia e técnica, arte e política: ensaios sobre literatura e história da cultura. In: BENJAMIN, Walter. Obras escolhidas. 7ª ed., São Paulo: Brasiliense, vol. I, 1994).CASAGRANDE, Cledes Antonio. G. H. Mead & Educação. Autêntica Editora, 2014.COTRIM, Gilberto. Fundamentos de Filosofia: História da Educação: São Paulo: Editora Saraiva. 1989.FREITAG, Bárbara. Dialogando com Jürgen Harbermas. Rio de Janeiro: Tempo Brasileiro, 2005. (Biblioteca Colégio do Brasil; 10)GERMANO, J. W. Estado militar e educação no Brasil: 1964-1985. 2. ed. São Paulo: Cortez, 1994.HABERMAS, Jürgen. Teoria do Agir Comunicativo, 1: Racionalidade do Agir Comunicativo- Racionalidade da ação e racionalização social. Jürgen Habermas; tradução Paulo Asteor Soethe; revisão da tradução Flávio Beno Siebeneicher.- São Paulo: Editora WMF Martins Fontes, 2012._______. Teoria do Agir Comunicativo, 2: Sobre a crítica da razão funcionalista.. Jürgen Habermas; tradução Flávio Beno Siebeneicher.- São Paulo: Editora WMF Martins Fontes, 2012.LUCKESI , Cipriano Carlos. Filosofia da Educação. São Paulo: Cortez, 1994.- (Coleção magistério. 2º grau. Série formação do Professor).MEDEIROS, Shirlene Santos Mafra. Gestão participativa em educação: compasso e descompasso de uma experiência de democracia no espaço escolar. Natal: INFORCENTER, 2008._______. Resiliência e a ética na escola: do ser ao dever ser: gestão da Escola Estadual Otávio Lamartine na cidade de Cruzeta-RN. Caicó: INFORCENTER, 2010._______. Memórias e identidade social da formação docente em Rio de Contas-BA, nas décadas de 1920 a 1960: reminiscências das educadoras e educadores de cátedra à universidade, Tese de Doutorado – UESB. 2016.PUCCI, Bruno. O riso e o trágico na Indústria cultural: a catarse administrada. In: Sociologia e Educação: leituras e Interpretações. São Paulo: Avercamp, 2006.RADL-PHILIPP, Rita Maria. Sociologia Crítica: perspectivas actuales. Madrid. Espanha: Editorial Síntesis, S.A. 1996._______. La Teoria del actuar comunicativo de Jürgen Habermas: um marco para el análisis de las condiciones socializadoras em las sociedades modernas. In: PAPERS, Revista de Sociologia, pp. 103-123, 1998_______. Teoría Crítica y Educación. In: Historia y crítica, nº 1, Santiago de Compostela, 1991, págs. 57-71_______. Teorìa Hermeneútico-crítica Frankfurtiana, Interés Epistemológico Emancipativo y prácticas de Pedagogia Crítica. Revista Binacional Brasil Argentina. UESB. 2014SAVIANI, Dermeval. História das idéias pedagógicas no Brasil. Campinas-SP: Autores associados, 2007. (Coleção memória da educação)._______. Formação de professores: aspectos históricos e teóricos do problema no contexto brasileiro. Trabalho apresentado na 31ª Reunião Anual da ANPED, realizada de 16 a 20 de outubro de 2008, em Caxambu (MG).SANTOS, Boaventura de Souza. Renovar a Teoria Crítica e reinventar a Emancipação Social. Tradução Mouzar Benedito. São Paulo: Boitempo, 2007.VIGOTSKI, L.S.A. A Formação Social da Mente: o desenvolvimento dos processos psicológicos superiores. São Paulo: Martins Fontes, 2007.

The article aims at presenting the symbolic interactionism as a useful and flexible theoretical perspective in research on the human body. It shows the assumptions of symbolic interactionism in their relation to the human body, as well as explains how basic notions of this theoretical perspective are embodied—the self, social role, identity, acting, interacting. I depict the unobvious presence of the body in the classical works of George H. Mead, Anselm Strauss, Howard Becker, Erving Goffman, and in more recent ones, such as Bryan Turner, Ken Plummer, and Loïc Wacquant. I also describe the Polish contribution to the field, including research on disability, hand transplant, the identity of a disabled person, together with the influence of sport, prostitution as work, yoga, climbing, relationships between animals and humans based on gestures and bodily conduct, the socialization of young actors and actresses, non-heteronormative motherhood, and the socialization of children in sport and dance. In a case study based on the research on ballroom dancers, I show how to relate the theoretical requirements of symbolic interactionism with real human “flesh and bones.” I depict three ways of perceiving own bodies by dancers: a material, a tool, a partner; and, two processes their bodies are subjected to: sharpening and polishing a tool. I draw the link between the processual character of the body, of the symbolic interactionist theoretical perspective, and process-focused grounded theory methodology.

Can we learn about the art of living from sociology? Sociology teaches us that we are the part of a broader group called society. We are taught that society should be first described in order to be understood and/or explained, and that the cognitive function is the most important part in understanding the role sociology should play in a democratic and modern society. Is this understanding (cognition) enough? What more can we get to better our quality of life and live a wholesome life from studying sociology or society using a sociological perspective? Is sociology a tool for the art of living or is it just a play of the “sophisticated”? In this paper, we analyze the sociology from the philosophy of Zen Buddhism to show the connection between the work of mind and the sociological concepts that are used to analyze “society.” Moreover, we analyze the approaches of George H. Mead, Robert Merton, and especially and separately Anthony Giddens that created, very important for our considerations, the concept of “ontological security.” We also reconstruct the structural conditions of the art of living and happiness, analyzing the concept of greedy institutions by Lewis Coser. We analytically connect the structural conditions of work in contemporary greedy institutions (working on projects) with the loss of ontological security. We analyze the displacement of the meaning of work, career, autonomy, time structure, identity, privacy and happiness, and finally the sociology. We try to use a Buddhist inspiration to analyze issues of suffering and, associated with it, so called ontological insecurity and the welfare of the individual and/or society.

The Florida 4-H Poultry BBQ program has existed for years, and the program for red meat cookery has been a huge success in Tennessee 4-H. With sponsorship for the winners at the state level, the Florida 4-H Tailgate Contest program will be a success in Florida as well. This program will strive to promote enjoyable outdoor cooking experiences, encourage the incorporation of animal protein in the diet in order to combat childhood obesity, improve youth nutritional knowledge and cooking skills, and impart knowledge about safe handling and proper degree of doneness to produce safe and delicious meat dishes. This 2-page fact sheet is the fifth publication in the Florida 4-H Tailgateseries, and it discusses meat selection. Written by Chad Carr, Brian Estevez, Sonja Crawford, Jason Scheffler, George Baker, Ed Jennings, and Mark Mauldin, and published by the 4-H Youth Development Department, December 2016. ­http://edis.ifas.ufl.edu/4h376

The Florida 4-H Poultry BBQ program has existed for years, and the program for red meat cookery has been a huge success in Tennessee 4-H. With sponsorship for the winners at the state level, the Florida 4-H Tailgate Contest program will be a success in Florida as well. This program will strive to promote enjoyable outdoor cooking experiences, encourage the incorporation of animal protein in the diet in order to combat childhood obesity, improve youth nutritional knowledge and cooking skills, and impart knowledge about safe handling and proper degree of doneness to produce safe and delicious meat dishes. This 2-page fact sheet is the fourth publication in the Florida 4-H Tailgateseries, and it discusses smoking and slow cooking meat. Written by Chad Carr, Brian Estevez, Sonja Crawford, Jason Scheffler, George Baker, Ed Jennings, and Mark Mauldin, and published by the 4-H Youth Development Department, December 2016. ­http://edis.ifas.ufl.edu/4h375

The Florida 4-H Poultry BBQ program has existed for years, and the program for red meat cookery has been a huge success in Tennessee 4-H. With sponsorship for the winners at the state level, the Florida 4-H Tailgate Contest program will be a success in Florida as well. This program will strive to promote enjoyable outdoor cooking experiences, encourage the incorporation of animal protein in the diet in order to combat childhood obesity, improve youth nutritional knowledge and cooking skills, and impart knowledge about safe handling and proper degree of doneness to produce safe and delicious meat dishes. This 3-page fact sheet is the second publication in the Florida 4-H Tailgate series, and it addresses cooking safety. Written by Chad Carr, Brian Estevez, Sonja Crawford, Jason Scheffler, George Baker, Ed Jennings, and Mark Mauldin, and published by the 4-H Youth Development Department, December 2016. ­http://edis.ifas.ufl.edu/4h373

The Florida 4-H Poultry BBQ program has existed for years, and the program for red meat cookery has been a huge success in Tennessee 4-H. With sponsorship for the winners at the state level, the Florida 4-H Tailgate Contest program will be a success in Florida as well. This program will strive to promote enjoyable outdoor cooking experiences, encourage the incorporation of animal protein in the diet in order to combat childhood obesity, improve youth nutritional knowledge and cooking skills, and impart knowledge about safe handling and proper degree of doneness to produce safe and delicious meat dishes. This 2-page fact sheet is the third publication in the Florida 4-H Tailgateseries, and it discusses fire-building. Written by Chad Carr, Brian Estevez, Sonja Crawford, Jason Scheffler, George Baker, Ed Jennings, and Mark Mauldin, and published by the 4-H Youth Development Department, December 2016. ­http://edis.ifas.ufl.edu/4h374

<p>Management is the art knowledge about the management of an institution there is also a view, technical knowledge, and communication. Management is also a skill-a skill that can be learned and developed through science. Getting a lot to learn about management, then more and more obtain information about a set of actions. Similarly, in the case of human relationships, social structure, and organization. The ministry of Religion served to hold part of government affairs in the field of religion. The task and function is to provide services and guidance in the field of spiritual thinking in the community. One of the targets of a given mental-spiritual coaching / spiritual is a convict because of coaching and guidance are the people who get lost should be protected by giving him life as a good citizen and useful in society. With the presence of these principles, the goal of mentalspiritual coaching / spiritual for the inmates, especially those who are Hindu is after they get out of the Penitentiary (where inmates are given coaching) are no longer committing a criminal act, as well as able to get closer to Ida Sang Hyang Widhi / God. As for the issues that will be discussed, among others : (1) How patterns of development mental spiritual done for the inmates of the Hindu in Correctional Institutions?, (2) How The Coaching Teachings Of The Hindu Religion Given To The Inmates Of The Hindu In Correctional Institutions? (3) How did the Obstacles and the efforts made in the development of mental and spiritual for the inmates of the Hindu in Correctional Institutions? This study aims to get a clear picture and accurate about the role of the management of Correctional Institutions in an effort to provide mental-spiritual coaching for the inmates of the Hindu in Correctional Institutions . The theory used to analyze the formulation of the problem is the Theory of Functionalism structural of Talcott Parsons and the theory of symbolic Interactionism of George H. Mead. This research is categorized as qualitative research using a qualitative approach. As for the location of the research conducted in Correctional Institutions . The subject of this research is the officer who is in charge of spiritual guidance in the Correctional Institutions and extension workers from the Ministry of Religious, while the objects in the study are the symptoms of behavior shown by the inmate Hindus in Correctional Institutions . Types of qualitative data and the source data in the form of primary data and secondary data. The technique of determination of informants using purposive sampling and snowball sampling. The methods used to collect data are : observation method, interview method, literature study, and triangulation. Data that has been collected were analyzed by qualitative descriptive analysis method with the following steps : data reduction, data presentation, and conclusion. The results showed that the management of Correctional Institutions took central role in the efforts of mental-spiritual coaching for the inmates of the Hindu in Correctional Institutions. As for some role in the development of mental and spiritual is given for the inmates of the Hindu in Correctional Institutions , including : the role of leadership, the role of organizing. The obstacles encountered in the development of mental and spiritual for the inmates includes the barriers for the adoption of development patterns, as well as other factors. Efforts to overcome the obstacles that arise is to develop forecast guidance so that inmates hindus do not feel the boredom.</p>

Odontioda is a cool-growing, sympodial epiphytic genus of orchids originating from the Andes Mountains of South America. Several hybrids are commercially grown as potted flowering plants for their brightly colored flowers and compact growth habit. We quantified how constant and fluctuating day/night temperatures influenced inflorescence initiation, time from visible inflorescence (VI) to flower, and pseudobulb development. Odontioda George McMahon ‘Fortuna’ and Lovely Penguin ‘Emperor’ were grown at constant temperature set points of 14, 17, 20, 23, 26, or 29 °C and day/night (12 h/12 h) temperatures of 20/14, 23/17, 26/14, 26/20, 29/23, or 29/17 °C. Plants were grown in glass greenhouses under a 12-h photoperiod and a maximum irradiance of 500 μmol·m−2·s−1. Within 6 weeks, heat stress symptoms such as leaf necrosis were observed on plants grown at a day temperature of 26 °C or greater regardless of the night temperature. After 20 weeks, 90% or greater of both clones had a VI when grown at a constant temperature of 14 or 17 °C. Plants grown at a constant temperature of 17 °C had the greatest pseudobulb diameter with a mean increase of 3.5 to 4.0 cm. In all treatments, a minimum pseudobulb diameter was required for uniform inflorescence initiation; pseudobulbs with a diameter of 5.5 cm or greater developed a VI in 93% of plants. Data for time from VI to open flower were converted to a rate, and a thermal-time model relating temperature with inflorescence development was developed. The base temperature and thermal time for VI to flower in George McMahon ‘Fortuna’ and Lovely Penguin ‘Emperor’ were estimated at −0.1 °C and 1429 °C·d−1 and 0.8 °C and 1250 °C·d−1, respectively. This information could be used by commercial orchid growers to assist in producing potted flowering Odontioda orchids for specific market dates.

Teorie rolí, vycházející ze symbolického interakcionismu George H. Meada, je stále častěji využívaným přístupem v analýze zahraniční politiky. Cíl tohoto příspěvku je dvojí. Za prvé, text obohacuje teorii rolí o poznatky a argumenty Meadovy teorie času. Argumentuje, že konstituce rolí má nejenom relační dimenzi (formování rolí ve vztah k druhým), ale i dimenzi časovou. Na základě poznatků teorie času rozšiřuje rámec teorie rolí o nové pojmy, které tuto časovou dimenzi konceptualizují: historické self a historický druhý. Za druhé, článek se pokouší začlenit do teorie rolí argumenty poststrukturalismu týkající se významu jinakosti a vymezování se vůči druhému pro formování identity. Symbolicko-interakcionalistický proces „přebírání rolí druhého“ a poststrukturalistické „negativního vymezování se vůči druhému“ můžeme vnímat jako dva extrémy na kontinuu modalit konstitutivního vztahu mezi self a tím druhým.

This study compared thermal inactivation of Escherichia coli O157:H7 in nonintact beefsteaks of different thicknesses by different cooking methods and appliances. Coarsely ground beef was inoculated with rifampin-resistant E. coli O157:H7 (eight-strain composite, 6 to 7 log CFU/g) and then mixed with sodium chloride (0.45%) plus sodium tripolyphosphate (0.23%); the total water added was 10%. The meat was stuffed into bags (10-cm diameter), semifrozen (−20°C, 6 h), and cut into 1.5-, 2.5-, and 4.0-cm-thick steaks. Samples were then individually vacuum packaged, frozen (−20°C, 42 h), and tempered (4°C, 2.5 h) before cooking. Partially thawed (−2 ± 1°C) steaks were pan broiled (Presto electric skillet and Sanyo grill), double pan broiled (George Foreman grill), or roasted (Oster toaster oven and Magic Chef standard kitchen oven) to a geometric center temperature of 65°C. Extent of pathogen inactivation decreased in order of roasting (2.0 to 4.2 log CFU/g) &gt; pan broiling (1.6 to 2.8 log CFU/g) ≥ double pan broiling (1.1 to 2.3 log CFU/g). Cooking of 4.0-cm-thick steaks required a longer time (19.8 to 65.0 min; variation was due to different cooking appliances), and caused greater reductions in counts (2.3 to 4.2 log CFU/g) than it did in thinner samples (1.1 to 2.9 log CFU/g). The time to reach the target temperature increased in order of George Foreman grill (3.9 to 19.8 min) &lt; Oster toaster oven (11.3 to 45.0 min) &lt; Presto electric skillet (16.3 to 55.0 min) &lt; Sanyo grill (14.3 to 65.0 min) &lt; standard kitchen oven (20.0 to 63.0 min); variation was due to steak thickness. Results indicated that increased steak thickness allowed greater inactivation of E. coli O157:H7, as time to reach the target internal temperature increased. Roasting in a kitchen oven was most effective for pathogen inactivation.

Abstract. Subarctic environmental changes are expected to affect the foraging ecology of marine top predators, but the response to such changes may vary among species if they use food resources differently. We examined the characteristics of foraging behavior of two sympatric congeneric diving seabird: common (Uria aalge: hereafter COMUs) and thick-billed (U. lomvia: hereafter TBMUs) murres breeding on St. George Island, located in the seasonal sea-ice region of the Bering Sea. We investigated their foraging trip and flight durations, diel patterns of dive depth, and underwater wing strokes, along with wing morphology and blood stable isotope signatures and stress hormones. Acceleration–temperature–depth loggers were attached to chick-guarding birds, and data were obtained from 7 COMUs and 12 TBMUs. Both species showed similar mean trip duration (13.2 h for COMUs and 10.5 h for TBMUs) and similar diurnal patterns of diving (frequent dives to various depths in the daytime and less frequent dives to shallow depths in the nighttime). During the daytime, the dive depths of COMUs had two peaks in shallow (18.1 m) and deep (74.2 m) depths, while those of TBMUs were 20.2 m and 59.7 m. COMUs showed more frequent wing strokes during the bottom phase of dives (1.90 s−1) than TBMUs (1.66 s−1). Fish occurred more frequently in the bill loads of COMUs (85 %) than those of TBMUs (56 %). The δ15N value of blood was significantly higher in COMUs (14.5 ‰) than in TBMUs (13.1 ‰). The relatively small wing area (0.053 m2) of COMUs compared to TBMUs (0.067 m2) may facilitate their increased agility while foraging and allow them to capture more mobile prey such as larger fishes that inhabit deeper depths. These differences in food resource use may lead to the differential responses of the two murre species to marine environmental changes in the Bering Sea.

McKnight JA, McCance, DR, Sheridan B, Atkinson AB. Four years' treatment of resistant acromegaly with octreotide. Eur J Endocrinol 1995;132:429–32. ISSN 0804–4643 This study was designed to ascertain the long-term safety and efficacy profile of the somatostatin analogue octreotide as treatment of refractory acromegaly. Eight patients (aged 21–62 years) with persistent growth hormone (GH) elevation (duration 1–15 years) despite previous therapy were studied. Octreotide was given subcutaneously in increasing doses for the first year to a maximum of 500 μg three times daily. The dose then was reduced to 200 μg three times daily for the next 3 years. At annual assessments, 24-h GH profiles, insulin-like growth factor I (IGF-I) and a side-effect profile including gall-bladder ultrasound were studied. Oral glucose tolerance tests (75 g) were performed basally and after 6 months and 3 years of therapy. Haemoglobin A1 (HbA1) was also assessed. Side effects were recorded. Mean GH (± sem) was 36.0 ± 9 mU/l basally and was reduced significantly at all subsequent assessments on therapy (4-year mean, 9.4 ± 2.1 mU/l). The IGF-I level also remained suppressed and was normalized in four of eight patients who remained on octreotide. Fasting plasma glucose and HbA1 were not changed by therapy but 2-h glucose was elevated after 6 months and 3 years (basal mean, 7.6 mmol/l (5.3–9.0 mmol/l); 3-year mean, 10.7 mmol/l (8.4–15.7 mmol/l); p < 0.05). Five patients developed gallstones and in three these had disappeared following 1 year of bile salt dissolution therapy. Octreotide continues to suppress serum GH and IGF-I long term without attenuation of effect. Gallstone formation is a major side effect. Two hours after glucose load the plasma glucose level was elevated but HbA1 did not change long term. Further similar studies of long duration are required to establish the long-term safety profile of the drug. AB Atkinson, Sir George E Clark Metabolic Unit, Royal Victoria Hospital, Belfast BT12 6BA, Northern Ireland

1. The purpose of this work was to determine whether computed temporally coded axonal information generated by Poisson process stimulation were modified during long-distance propagation, as originally suggested by S. A. George. Propagated impulses were computed with the use of the Hodgkin-Huxley equations and cable theory to simulate excitation and current spread in 100-microns-diam unmyelinated axons, whose total length was 8.1 cm (25 lambda) or 101.4 cm (312.5 lambda). Differential equations were solved numerically, with the use of trapezoidal integration over small, constant electrotonic and temporal steps (0.125 lambda and 1.0 microsecond, respectively). 2. Using dual-pulse stimulation, we confirmed that for interstimulus intervals between 5 and 11 ms, the conduction velocity of the second of a short-interval pair of impulses was slower than that of the first impulse. Further, with sufficiently long propagation distance, the second impulse's conduction velocity increased steadily and eventually approached that of the first impulse. This effect caused a spatially varying interspike interval: as propagation proceeded, the interspike interval increased and eventually approached stabilization. 3. With Poisson stimulation, the peak amplitude of propagating action potentials varied with interspike interval durations between 5 and 11 ms. Such amplitude attenuation was caused by the incomplete relaxation of parameters n (macroscopic K-conductance activation) and h (macroscopic Na-conductance inactivation) during the interspike period. 4. The stochastic properties of the impulse train became less Poisson-like with propagation distance. In cases of propagation over 99.4 cm, the impulse trains developed marked periodicities in Interevent Interval Distribution and Expectation Density function because of the axially modulated transformation of interspike intervals. 5. Despite these changes in impulse train parameters, the arithmetic value of the mean interspike interval did not change as a function of propagation distance. This work showed that in theory, whereas the pattern of Poisson-like impulse codes was modified during long-distance propagation, their mean rate was conserved.

The breeding of hybrid maize now has a history of over 100 years. In 1908, George H. Shull was the first to report on the high yields, great uniformity and homogeneity of hybrids derived from a cross between two inbred lines. Following this discovery, consistent self-fertilisation over a period of six to eight generations was found to be an extremely efficient method for developing maize lines. From the mid-1970s, however, with the elaboration of the monoploid ( in vivo ) and microspore culture ( in vitro ) techniques, it became possible to develop homozygous lines within a year.With the help of an efficient plant regeneration system based on anther culture, large numbers of doubled haploid (DH) lines can be produced. In the course of the experiments the seed of DH plants selected over several years was multiplied and crossed with Martonvásár testers, after which the hybrids were included in field performance trials in three consecutive years (2005–2007). The aim was to determine whether the field performance of hybrids developed in this way equalled the mean yield of standards with commercial value. The data also made it possible to calculate the general (GCA) and specific (SCA) combining ability of the parental lines, indicating the usefulness of the parental components in hybrid combinations and expressing the extent to which a given line contributes to yield surpluses in its progeny.A total of 52 maize hybrids were evaluated in the experiments in terms of yield and grain moisture content at harvest. The combinations, resulting from crosses between 12 DH lines, one control line developed by conventional inbreeding and four testers, were found to include hybrids capable of equalling the performance of the standards, and four DH lines were identified as improving the yield level of their progeny. As the experiment was carried out on a very small number of genotypes, the results are extremely promising and suggest that, if the range of genotypes used to develop DH lines is broadened and the sample number is increased, it will be possible in the future to find maize hybrids, developed with in vitro DH parental components, that surpass the performance of commercial hybrids.

Background:Blended learning is an increasingly popular learning supplement for traditional classroom-based courses in medical education. Once implemented, many factors influence its success. This was demonstrated by Shivetts et al., who concluded that student motivation plays a major role. In particular, if a learner is not self-motivated, e-learning may not represent the best learning environment.1However, gamification methods are known to enhance motivation in medical education and, if used correctly, can overcome this deficit.2For this purpose, a quiz duel was created and used as a blended learning approach for health professional training in rheumatology. We hypothesize that the use of the quiz duel gamification technique improves learners’ motivation to successfully complete their blended learning course.Objectives:To investigate the potential of gamification methods in motivating health professionals to answer multiple choice questions (MCQs) in a pilot blended learning scenario.Methods:Four hundred and sixty MCQs were developed in accordance with the learning objectives of a certified training course and integrated into a learning management system (LMS). As a gamification technique, a duel mode was created. Course participants had access via an individual user account and used personal smartphones. After each answer was provided, the learners received corrective and explanatory feedback, as well as information on how the duel opponent answered. Incorrectly answered MCQs were repeated in further duels.Information on the number of MCQs answered (1), days learned (2), and learning time spent (3) was collected and analyzed. Each day on which at least one MCQ was answered counted as a learning day per user. The learning time was calculated with 1.5 min per MCQ answered. Analysis was performed over a 15-week period (08/19–12/19).The training event (“RFAplus”) was organized by the Rheumatologische Fortbildungsakademie GmbH and took place on three weekends in intervals of four weeks in Germany. The LMS used was Humeo (Humeo GmbH). All users agreed to the terms and conditions of use and data protection before participating in the blended learning intervention.Results:Nineteen female health professionals in rheumatology participated in the study. The mean age of participants was 43.5 years (range, 21–60 years). The 460 MCQs were answered 20,397 times, with 1039 MCQs per user (range, 247-1839 MCQs) during the 15-week period (105 days). Each MCQ was answered 2.33 times. In total, there were 1167 learning days, with 60.8 days per user (range, 15-95 days). The users spent 30,596 min (509.9 h) answering the MCQs, resulting in 1,610 min (or 26.8 h) per user. Furthermore, each user answered 17.5 MCQs and spent an average of 26 min per learning day.Conclusion:Blended learning is an interactive method to potentially extend learning time over several weeks. However, the success of this technique lies in motivating the participants to continue learning after the event. A quiz duel as a gamification technique proved to be effective in motivating participants to learn daily. In our study, learners spent an average of 27 h, i.e., almost half of the total attendance time of 60 h, learning. Correspondingly, this technique could also replace parts of lengthy face-to-face courses in an attempt to save costs in the future. Information drawn from the MCQs could potentially serve as promising learning analytics.References:[1]Shivetts, C. E-Learning and Blended Learning: The Importance of the Learner A Research Literature Review.Int. J. E-Learn.10, 331–337 (2011).[2]Pesare, E., Roselli, T., Corriero, N. & Rossano, V. Game-based learning and Gamification to promote engagement and motivation in medical learning contexts.Smart Learn. Environ.3, 5 (2016).Disclosure of Interests:Ruben Sengewein: None declared, Patricia Steffens-Korbanka Consultant of: Abbvie, Chugai, Novartis, Sanofi, Mylan, Lilly, Speakers bureau: Abbvie, Chugai, Novartis, Sanofi, Lilly, Joerg Wendler Consultant of: Janssen, AbbVie, Sanofi, Speakers bureau: Roche, Chugai, Janssen, AbbVie, Novartis, Max Kieslich: None declared, Erik Schmok: None declared, Georg Gauler Consultant of: Abbvie, Lilly, MSD, Speakers bureau: Abbvie, Celgene, Novartis, Sanofi,

Tombaugh, Geoffrey C. and George G. Somjen. Differential sensitivity to intracellular pH among high- and low-threshold Ca2+ currents in isolated rat CA1 neurons. J. Neurophysiol. 77: 639–653, 1997. The effects of intracellular pH (pHi) on high-threshold (HVA) and low-threshold (LVA) calcium currents were examined in acutely dissociated rat hippocampal CA1 neurons with the use of the whole cell patch-clamp technique (21–23°C). Internal pH was manipulated by external exposure to the weak base NH4Cl or in some cases to the weak acid Na-acetate (20 mM) at constant extracellular pH (7.4). Confocal fluorescence measurements using the pH-sensitive dye SNARF-1 in both dialyzed and intact cells confirmed that NH4Cl caused a reversible alkaline shift. However, the external TEA-Cl concentration used during I Ca recording was sufficient to abolish cellular acidification upon NH4Cl wash out. With 10 mM N-2-hydroxyethylpiperazine- N′-2-ethanesulfonic acid (HEPES) in the pipette, NH4Cl exposure reversibly enhanced HVA currents by 29%, whereas exposure to Na-acetate markedly and reversibly depressed HVA Ca currents by 62%. The degree to which NH4Cl enhanced HVA currents was inversely related to the internal HEPES concentration but was unaffected when internal ethylene glycol-bis(β-aminoethyl ether)- N,N,N′,N′-tetraacetic acid (EGTA) was replaced by equimolar bis-( o-aminophenoxy)- N,N,N′,N′-tetraacetic acid (BAPTA). When depolarizing test pulses were applied shortly after break-in ( V h = −100 mV), NH4Cl caused a proportionally greater increase in the sustained current relative to the peak. The dihydropyridine Ca channel antagonist nifedipine (5 μM) blocked nearly all of this sustained current. A slowly inactivating nifedipine-sensitive (L-type) HVA current could be evoked from a depolarized holding potential of −50 mV; NH4Cl enhanced this current by 40 ± 3% (mean ± SE) and reversibly shifted the tail-current activation curve by +6–8 mV. L-type currents exhibited more rapid rundown than N-type currents; HVA currents remaining after prolonged cell dialysis, or in the presence of nifedipine, inactivated rapidly and were depressed by ω-conotoxin (GVIA). NH4Cl enhanced these N-type currents by 76 ± 9%. LVA Ca currents were observed in 32% of the cells and exhibited little if any rundown. These amiloride-sensitive currents activated at voltages negative to −50 mV, were enhanced by extracellular alkalosis and depressed by extracellular acidosis, but were unaffected by exposure to either NH4Cl or NaAC. These results demonstrate that HVA Ca currents in hippocampal CA1 neurons are bidirectionally modulated by internal pH shifts, and that N-type currents are more sensitive to alkaline shifts than are L- or T-type (N > L > T). Our findings strengthen the idea that distinct cellular processes governed by different Ca channels may be subject to selective modulation by uniform shifts in cytosolic pH.

Background:Due to better treatment strategies and higher remission rates the management of rheumatoid arthritis (RA) patients in sustained remission is of increasing interest (1). The Rheumatoid Arthritis in Ongoing Remission (RETRO) study investigated the possibility to taper and stop disease modifying anti-rheumatic drugs (DMARDs).Objectives:To compare one-year remission and relapse rates in rheumatoid arthritis patients randomized to continued treatment, reduced treatment or gradual treatment withdrawal after stable remission under routine care.Methods:Primary data of the phase III, randomized, controlled RETRO trial in RA patients with stable conventional synthetic and/or biologic DMARD treatment in sustained (>6 months) DAS28-ESR remission (<2.6 units). Patients were randomized 1:1:1 into three strategy arms (continuation of 100% DMARD dose, CONT; tapering to 50% DMARD dose, TAP; 50% tapering followed by withdrawal of DMARDs, STOP). The primary endpoint was the proportion of patients in sustained DAS28-ESR remission after 1 year.Results:316 RA patients in sustained remission were included, 303 were randomized (CONT: N=100; TAP: N=102; STOP: N=101) and 282 (93%) had complete data sets after 1 year (CONT:N=93; TAP: N=93; STOP: N=96; Table 1). After 1 year, 81.2%, 58.6%, 43.3% of patients, maintained their remission state over 1 year in the CONT, TAP and STOP arms, respectively (p=0.0004 with log rank test for trend; Figure 1). Hazard ratios for flare were 3.02 (95%CI 1.69 to 5.40) and 4.34 (95%CI 2.48 to 7.60) for the TAP and STOP arms. RA patients who flared were more likely to be female, have longer disease duration, RF/ACPA positivity and higher baseline DAS-28 scores with standardized mean differences >0.2. Serious adverse events were reported in 10.8%, 7.5%, and 13.5% in the CONT, TAP and STOP arms, respectively.Table 1.Baseline CharacteristicsGroupControlReduceReduce/StopOverallN939396282Age, mean(SD)55.9 (12.7)56.9 (13.0)56.5 (13.3)56.5 (13.0)Female, n (%)53 (57.0)57 (62.0)57 (59.4)167 (59.4)RF, n (%)52 (55.9)58 (62.4)52 (54.2)162 (57.4)ACPA, n (%)53 (57.0)50 (54.9)55 (57.3)158 (56.4)Disease duration, years, mean(SD)7.6 (6.9)7.8 (6.9)6.8 (8.1)7.4 (7.3)Remission duration, months, mean(SD)20.6 (18.0)16.5 (15.9)22.7 (30.4)20.0 (22.6)Biologics, n (%)39 (41.9)44 (47.3)39 (40.6)122 (43.3)Methotrexate, n (%)71 (76.3)67 (72.0)75 (78.1)213 (75.5)Other DMARDs, n (%)24 (25.8)20 (21.5)16 (16.7)60 (21.3)Glucocorticoids, n (%)27 (29.0)23 (24.7)17 (17.7)67 (23.8)CRP, mg/L, mean(SD)0.3 (0.3)0.5 (0.5)0.5 (0.6)0.4 (0.5)ESR, mm/h, mean(SD)11.3 (8.4)12.2 (8.8)13.0 (10.0)12.2 (9.1)Tender joint count, mean(SD)0.2 (0.6)0.0 (0.2)0.1 (0.3)0.1 (0.4)Swollen joint count, mean(SD)0.1 (0.3)0.1 (0.3)0.1 (0.4)0.1 (0.3)Physician VAS,mm, mean(SD)1.8 (4.2)2.6 (4.4)2.0 (3.9)2.1 (4.2)Patient VAS,mm, mean(SD)6.4 (9.0)5.5 (8.3)4.5 (8.4)5.5 (8.6)HAQ, standard, mean(SD)0.2 (0.4)0.2 (0.3)0.2 (0.4)0.2 (0.4)HAQ, alternative, mean(SD)0.2 (0.4)0.1 (0.3)0.2 (0.3)0.2 (0.3)DAS-28, mean(SD)1.7 (0.7)1.7 (0.6)1.7 (0.6)1.7 (0.6)SDAI, mean(SD)1.4 (1.5)1.4 (1.5)1.3 (1.3)1.3 (1.4)DAS-28 remission, n (%)91 (97.8)93 (100.0)95 (99.0)279 (98.9)SDAI remission, n (%)79 (87.8)79 (84.9)88 (92.6)246 (88.5)Boolean remission, n (%)69 (75.8)71 (76.3)76 (79.2)216 (77.1)Conclusion:This randomized controlled study shows that half of RA patients in sustained remission relapse when tapering/stopping their DMARDs. Presence of autoantibodies, higher baseline DAS28-ESR and female sex are predictors for flares.References:[1]Schett G et al. Tapering biologic and conventional DMARD therapy in rheumatoid arthritis: current evidence and future directions. Ann Rheum Dis. 2016 Aug;75(8):1428-37.Disclosure of Interests:Melanie Hagen Speakers bureau: advisory boards, Koray Tascilar Speakers bureau: advisory board, Michaela Reiser: None declared, Larissa Valor: None declared, Judith Haschka Speakers bureau: advisory board, Arnd Kleyer Speakers bureau: advisory board, Axel Hueber Speakers bureau: advisory boards, Bernhard Manger Speakers bureau: advisory boards, Jayme Cobra Speakers bureau: advisory boards, Camille Figuereido Speakers bureau: advisory boards, Stephanie Finzel Speakers bureau: advisory boards, Hans-Peter Tony Speakers bureau: advisory boards, Joerg Wendler Speakers bureau: advisory boards, Stefan Kleinert Speakers bureau: advisory boards, Florian Schuch Speakers bureau: advisory boards, Monika Ronneberger: None declared, Martin Feuchtenberger Speakers bureau: advisory boards, Martin Fleck Speakers bureau: advisory boards, Karin Manger: None declared, Wolfgang Ochs: None declared, Matthias Schmitt-Haendle: None declared, Hanns-Martin Lorenz Speakers bureau: advisory boards, Rieke Alten Speakers bureau: advisory boards, Jörg Henes Speakers bureau: advisory boards, Klaus Krueger Speakers bureau: advisory boards, Jürgen Rech Speakers bureau: advisory boards, Georg Schett Speakers bureau: advisory boards.

Background:In systemic sclerosis (SSc), inflammation and microvascular damage are fundamental in the progressive fibrotic process. Although the presence of accelerated atherosclerosis in SSc is not as well-described as in other systemic disorders namely rheumatoid arthritis, it appears that individuals suffering from the disease are at higher risk for cardiovascular events. Nailfold Video Capillaroscopy (NVC) is a non-invasive and reproducible imaging technique of the capillary vascular bed, used in the evaluation of microvascular involvement in SSc. Previous data on the association between micro- and macrovascular damage are scarce.Objectives:The aim of this study was to examine the association between micro- and macrovascular involvement in patients with SSc.Methods:This is a cross-sectional study including consecutive SSc patients attending to a Scleroderma Outpatient Clinic between March and September 2018. All the study participants underwent NVC and the findings were classified in one of the following qualitative patterns: early, active, and late NVC pattern. Capillary’s density was evaluated in the distal row of each finger, based on the number of capillaries per 1 mm and the mean capillaroscopic skin ulcer risk index (CSURI) was automatically calculated with software image analysis. Carotid intima-media thickness (cIMT) was measured in the common carotid artery bilaterally, according to the relevant guidelines. Aortic blood pressure (BP), heart rate adjusted augmentation index [AIx(75)] and carotid-femoral pulse wave velocity (PWV) were evaluated with applanation tonometry (Sphygmocor).Results:Sixty-four (95,3% women) SSc individuals with mean age 57.54±12.99 years were included in this analysis. AIx(75) was significantly associated with CSURI (r=0.261; p=0.038) and inversely associated with the number of capillaries (r=-0.271; p=0.030) suggesting a link between the degree of microvascular disease and arterial stiffening. Regarding SSc-specific NVC patterns, AIx(75) were marginally lower in patients with early compared to active or late patterns (25.95±11.27 vs 32.50±11.17 vs 31.62±10.32%; p=0.081 and p=0.083) confirming a trend between progressive microvasculopathy and arterial stiffness. Mean cIMT was negatively correlated with enlarged capillary loops. Brachial or aortic systolic BP (SBP) and pulse pressure (PP) levels were not correlated with any of the studied NVC parameters.Conclusion:Microvascular vasculopathy is associated with higher wave reflections, indicating an association between atherosclerotic disease and microvascular injury in SSc patients. Such observations may provide possible explanations for the excessive cardiovascular and mortality risk in this population.References:[1]Soulaidopoulos, S., Pagkopoulou, E., Katsiki, N. et al. Arterial stiffness correlates with progressive nailfold capillary microscopic changes in systemic sclerosis: results from a cross-sectional study. Arthritis Res Ther 21, 253 (2019)[2]Jung K-H, Lim MJ, Kwon SR, Kim D, Joo K, Park W. Nailfold capillary microscopic changes and arterial stiffness in Korean systemic sclerosis patients. Mod Rheumatol. 2015;25:328–31.[3]Aviña-zubieta JA, Man A, Yurkovich M, Huang K, Sayre EC. Early cardiovascular disease after the diagnosis of systemic sclerosis. Am J Med. 2015;129:324–31Disclosure of Interests:Eleni Pagkopoulou: None declared, Stergios Soulaidopoulos: None declared, Eva Triantafyllidou: None declared, Niki Katsiki: None declared, Georeg Kitas: None declared, Asterios Karagiannis: None declared, Alexandros Garyfallos Grant/research support from: MSD, Aenorasis SA, Speakers bureau: MSD, Novartis, gsk, Theodoros Dimitroulas: None declared

Background:Personalization of RA treatment is not optimal due to lack of predictors. We previously demonstrated in RA patients that central nervous system (CNS) pain response to tender joint compression, measured by using functional MRI (fMRI) of the brain rapidly wanes after 24 hours of anti-TNF administration and that a higher pre-treatment BOLD signal volume seems to predict clinical response to treatment with certolizumab-pegol (CZP)1,2. We therefore hypothesized that the CNS pain response upon compression of a painful joint could predict subsequent anti-TNF treatment response.Objectives:To compare disease activity after 12-weeks of CZP treatment to that of placebo in DMARD-refractory RA patients based on pre-treatment baseline CNS pain response measured using BOLD fMRI.Methods:Adult RA patients fulfilling the 2010 ACR/EULAR classification criteria with a DAS28>3.2 under stable DMARD treatment for at least 3 months were eligible. Patients underwent fMRI scanning of the brain at screening for stratification by CNS pain response. Whole brain BOLD-signal-voxel-count of 700 units classifying between low and high, and were randomized to CZP or placebo (2:1) The primary outcome was low disease activity (LDA, DAS28 ≤3.2) after 12 weeks of treatment.Results:156 RA patients, inadequate responders to csDMARD, signed the informed consent. 139 patients (46/47, 46/49 and 42/43) (99 females, 71%) with moderate-high disease activity (mean (SD) DAS-28: 4.83 (1.03)) could be included respectively and completed the 12-week study treatment. Geometric mean (SD) numbers of baseline BOLD signal positive voxels were 559 (10), 81 (12) and 2498 (3) in the 3 arms respectively. The mean DAS28 (SD) scores after 12 weeks of study treatment were Placebo: 3.89 (1.29), CZP-L: 3.42 (1.06) and CZP-H: 3.06 (1.04). LDA was achieved in 12/47 patients (25.5 %) in placebo, 22/49 (44.9%) in the CZP-L, and 25/43, (58.1%) in the CZP-H arm. The linear effect term for the ordinal study group variable supported a linear trend of increasing CZP treatment effect with increasing baseline CNS pain response. RR (95% CI) for achieving LDA with each unit increase in treatment category over placebo was 1.79 (1.24 to 2.74, p=0.003).Conclusion:A higher pre-treatment brain activity in response to pain measured with fMRI predicts the chance of achieving low disease activity with CZP treatment.References:[1] Hess, A.et al.PNAS (2011)[2] Rech, J.et al. Arthritis & Rheumatism(2013).Acknowledgments :The study was supported by an unrestricted grant from UCB Biopharma SPRL, Brussels, BelgiumDisclosure of Interests:Jürgen Rech Consultant of: BMS, Celgene, Novartis, Roche, Chugai, Speakers bureau: AbbVie, Biogen, BMS, Celgene, MSD, Novartis, Roche, Chugai, Pfizer, Lilly, Koray Tascilar: None declared, Hannah Schenker: None declared, Marina Sergeeva: None declared, Mageshwar Selvakumar: None declared, Laura Konerth: None declared, Jutta Prade: None declared, Sandra Strobelt: None declared, Melanie Hagen: None declared, Verena Schönau: None declared, Larissa Valor: None declared, Axel Hueber Grant/research support from: Novartis, Lilly, Pfizer, EIT Health, EU-IMI, DFG, Universität Erlangen (EFI), Consultant of: Abbvie, BMS, Celgene, Gilead, GSK, Lilly, Novartis, Speakers bureau: GSK, Lilly, Novartis, David Simon Grant/research support from: Else Kröner-Memorial Scholarship, Novartis, Consultant of: Novartis, Lilly, Arnd Kleyer Consultant of: Lilly, Gilead, Novartis,Abbvie, Speakers bureau: Novartis, Lilly, Frank Behrens Grant/research support from: Abbvie, Pfizer, Roche, Chugai, Janssen, Consultant of: Abbvie, Pfizer, Roche, Chugai, UCB, BMS, Celgene, MSD, Novartis, Biotest, Janssen, Genzyme, Lilly; Boehringer; Sandoz, Speakers bureau: Abbvie, Pfizer, Roche, Chugai, UCB, BMS, Celgene, MSD, Novartis, Biotest, Janssen, Genzyme, Lilly; Boehringer; Sandoz, José Antonio P. da Silva Grant/research support from: Pfizer, Abbvie, Consultant of: Pfizer, AbbVie, Roche, Lilly, Novartis, Christoph Baerwald Consultant of: CGB received speaker or consulting fees from AbbVie, Paid instructor for: CGB received speaker or consulting fees from AbbVie, Speakers bureau: CGB received speaker or consulting fees from AbbVie, Stephanie Finzel: None declared, Reinhard Voll: None declared, Eugen Feist Consultant of: Novartis, Roche, Sobi, Lilly, Pfizer, Abbvie, BMS, MSD, Sanofi, Speakers bureau: Novartis, Roche, Sobi, Lilly, Pfizer, Abbvie, BMS, MSD, Sanofi, Arnd Doerfler: None declared, Nemanja Damjanov Grant/research support from: from AbbVie, Pfizer, and Roche, Consultant of: AbbVie, Gedeon Richter, Merck, Novartis, Pfizer, and Roche, Speakers bureau: AbbVie, Gedeon Richter, Merck, Novartis, Pfizer, and Roche, Andreas Hess: None declared, Georg Schett Speakers bureau: AbbVie, BMS, Celgene, Janssen, Eli Lilly, Novartis, Roche and UCB

Background:We have previously observed in RA patients that central nervous system (CNS) response to compression of a painful joint, measured using functional MRI (fMRI) of the brain as the number of blood oxygen level dependent (BOLD) signal positive voxels, is rapidly ameliorated, much earlier than any clinical response with anti-TNF treatment and a high baseline CNS pain response could predict better response to certolizumab pegol (CZP) treatment. Pre-CePRA was designed and conducted to test this effect in a randomized, placebo controlled trial of CZP and showed an incremental linear trend of DAS28 low disease activity (LDA) across study groups treated with placebo, and two CZP arms stratified as low or high pre-treatment CNS pain response.Objectives:To explore and describe pre-treatment CNS pain response associations with post treatment course of RA disease activity components and patient-physician discrepancy in global disease assessment.Methods:Patients fulfilling the 2010 ACR/EULAR classification criteria with moderate-severe disease activity (DAS-28>3.2) under stable DMARD treatment were recruited. Patients underwent an fMRI scan, stratified by a whole-brain BOLD positive voxel count threshold of 700 units and randomized to treatment with CZP or placebo in a 2:1 ratio. We descriptively assessed components of RA disease activity (Table 1 + 2). We summarized the mean results and 95% confidence intervals of these measurements at study timepoints and compared the 3 study groups at week 12 using one-way ANOVA and post-hoc Tukey tests.Results:156 eligible patients were screened and 139 (99 females, 71%) patients with moderate-high disease activity were randomized. ANOVA and pairwise comparisons showed that PGA-VAS improvement was larger in the CZP-H group whereas more similar to that in placebo in the CZP-L group. PhysGA-VAS however was similarly reduced in both CZP groups. Patients in the CZP-L group constantly rated their pain numerically higher than physicians whereas in the CZP-H group an initially higher discrepancy numerically reduced over time.Conclusion:These results suggest that improved patient global disease activity assessment could be the main driver of improved DAS-28 LDA rates with CZP treatment in patients with a high CNS pain response. Our findings indicate a potential role of fMRI imaging of the brain to further understand disease activity perception in RA patients.Figure 1.Course of disease activity components through trial timepoints. *indicates log-transformed y axis. *#x002A; Discrepancy equals Patient global minus physician global assessment.Disclosure of Interests:Hannah Schenker: None declared, Jürgen Rech Consultant of: BMS, Celgene, Novartis, Roche, Chugai, Speakers bureau: AbbVie, Biogen, BMS, Celgene, MSD, Novartis, Roche, Chugai, Pfizer, Lilly, Koray Tascilar: None declared, Melanie Hagen: None declared, Verena Schönau: None declared, Marina Sergeeva: None declared, Mageshwar Selvakumar: None declared, Laura Konerth: None declared, Jutta Prade: None declared, Sandra Strobelt: None declared, Larissa Valor: None declared, Axel Hueber Grant/research support from: Novartis, Lilly, Pfizer, EIT Health, EU-IMI, DFG, Universität Erlangen (EFI), Consultant of: Abbvie, BMS, Celgene, Gilead, GSK, Lilly, Novartis, Speakers bureau: GSK, Lilly, Novartis, David Simon Grant/research support from: Else Kröner-Memorial Scholarship, Novartis, Consultant of: Novartis, Lilly, Arnd Kleyer Consultant of: Lilly, Gilead, Novartis,Abbvie, Speakers bureau: Novartis, Lilly, Frank Behrens Grant/research support from: Abbvie, Pfizer, Roche, Chugai, Janssen, Consultant of: Abbvie, Pfizer, Roche, Chugai, UCB, BMS, Celgene, MSD, Novartis, Biotest, Janssen, Genzyme, Lilly; Boehringer; Sandoz, Speakers bureau: Abbvie, Pfizer, Roche, Chugai, UCB, BMS, Celgene, MSD, Novartis, Biotest, Janssen, Genzyme, Lilly; Boehringer; Sandoz, José Antonio P. da Silva Grant/research support from: Pfizer, Abbvie, Consultant of: Pfizer, AbbVie, Roche, Lilly, Novartis, Christoph Baerwald Consultant of: CGB received speaker or consulting fees from AbbVie, Paid instructor for: CGB received speaker or consulting fees from AbbVie, Speakers bureau: CGB received speaker or consulting fees from AbbVie, Stephanie Finzel: None declared, Reinhard Voll: None declared, Eugen Feist Consultant of: Novartis, Roche, Sobi, Lilly, Pfizer, Abbvie, BMS, MSD, Sanofi, Speakers bureau: Novartis, Roche, Sobi, Lilly, Pfizer, Abbvie, BMS, MSD, Sanofi, Arnd Doerfler: None declared, Nemanja Damjanov Grant/research support from: from AbbVie, Pfizer, and Roche, Consultant of: AbbVie, Gedeon Richter, Merck, Novartis, Pfizer, and Roche, Speakers bureau: AbbVie, Gedeon Richter, Merck, Novartis, Pfizer, and Roche, Andreas Hess: None declared, Georg Schett Speakers bureau: AbbVie, BMS, Celgene, Janssen, Eli Lilly, Novartis, Roche and UCB

Japanese stiltgrass (JSG, Microstegium vimineum) is an invasive weed causing significant ecological changes in the United States. Severely diseased plants in a shaded location 2 × 4 m in size were discovered in August 2012 at a residence on Indian Springs Rd., Frederick, MD (39.46747° N, 77.46106° W). JSG in larger monoculture stands at sunny locations within 6 to 10 m of diseased plants had a few, small, necrotic spots. Diseased plants had leaves with brown, often large, elliptical, necrotic spots up to 0.5 × 1.5 cm. Lesions were surrounded by a diffuse chlorotic margin, and larger lesions had tan centers. Diseased plants were smaller in stature than neighboring, non-symptomatic plants. Symptoms were similar to those on JSG reported by Kleczewski and Flory (2). Field samples of diseased leaves in moist chambers at room temperature and lighting produced dematiaceous conidiophores and conidia typical of Bipolaris within 2 days. Subcultures of the isolate (FDWSRU 12-049) were made from the conidia. Cultures growing on modified potato carrot agar (broth from 140 g each of potatoes and carrots and 20 g agar in 1 L water), were gray, velutinous or tomentose, and had clumps of short aerial hyphae on the upper surface. Healthy plants were grown in potting soil from seeds collected at the disease site. A minimum of five 4-week-old plants were spray-inoculated in each of three replications by conidia from detached leaves in a suspension of 105 spores/ml, given a 16-h dew period at 25°C, and placed in a 25°C greenhouse for observation. Non-inoculated plants were included for comparison. Brown or dark tan necrotic, irregular, often linear, spots with entire margins developed on all inoculated individual plants and not on control plants. The Bipolaris species was recovered from inoculated plant samples incubated in moist chambers, thus fulfilling Koch's postulates. Conidia were produced sympodially on dematiaceous conidiophores, often in clusters of two to three spores at the terminus, were medium to dark brown, straight or slightly curved, nearly fusiform with obtuse apices, and typically had 8 to 10 distoseptate cells that were 74.8 ± 2.3 × 16.4 ± 0.3 μm, and Q = 4.6 ± 0.1 (mean ± ci, P = 0.05; n = 100). A sequence of the ITS1-5.8S-ITS2 region of DNA, extracted using a DNeasy Plant Mini Kit (QIAGEN), was 100% identical to that of the type specimen of B. microstegii from M. vimineum (BPI 883727; GenBank Accession No. JX089579), using BLAST. On the basis of fungal morphology and molecular characteristics (1), along with symptomatology and published information (2), the causal agent of this disease has been determined to be B. microstegii. Dried specimens of both the isolate and diseased leaves were deposited in the U.S. National Fungus Collections (BPI 892680) and sequence information was submitted to GenBank (KF150215). Bipolaris leaf spot was also found on JSG in Howard and Prince Georges counties, MD, in 2009, but the causal agents were not formally characterized (K. Rane, Univ. Maryland; personal communication). This is the first confirmed identification of B. microstegii on JSG in Maryland, a plant that occurs as extensive monocultures in natural areas. These results provide a basis for characterization of this disease in the mid-Atlantic region. References: (1) P. W. Crous et al. Fungal Planet description sheets: 128-153. Persoonia 29:146, 2012. (2) N. M. Kleczewski and S. L. Flory. Plant Dis. 94:807, 2010.

Background:The realisation that subjects with rheumatoid arthritis (RA) are at increased risk of cardiovascular disease (CVD) has led to a growing interest in risk factor control in such people, but whether this has influenced the management of dyslipidaemia and hypertension (HT) is uncertain. In subjects with coronary heart disease (CHD), audits of CVD risk factor control are regularly performed, which makes it possible to evaluate guideline implementation over time.1Updated surveys on CVD risk management in patients with RA are needed.Objectives:To describe differences in lipid and blood pressure (BP) levels among patients with RA from five world regions. Furthermore, to evaluate attainment of guideline recommended targets for lipid lowering and antihypertensive treatment.Methods:The SUrvey of CVD Risk Factors in patients with RA (SURF-RA) was conducted at 53 centres in 19 countries from 2014 to 2019. Data including demographics, RA disease characteristics, CVD comorbidity, risk factors and use of preventive treatment was collected. HT was defined as self-reported HT, and/or measured BP ≥140/90 mmHg, and/or use of anti HT medication (a-HT). The treatment goal of a-HT was BP <140/90 mmHg. The 10-year risk of a fatal CVD event was calculated by the European CVD risk calculator, the Systematic COronary Risk Evaluation (SCORE), and was thereafter multiplied with 1.5 as recommended by the European League Against Rheumatism. Patients were classified in a high or very high CVD risk group according to the 2012 European Society of Cardiology guidelines, with low density lipoprotein cholesterol (LDL-c) goal at <2.6 and <1.8 mmol/L, respectively.2Results:In total, 14503 RA patients were included. The mean age was 59.8±13.6 years, and it was a strong female preponderance (74%). Nearly 2/3 of the patients were hypertensive. Use of a-HT in the total population differed substantially between the cohorts with limited use in West Europe and Latin America (17.4% and 24.8%), in contrast to North America and East Europe (46.8% and 57.0%). On average, half of those with HT were at the recommended BP goal. The lowest BP goal attainment was seen in Asia, West and East Europe (40.8-43.1%), and the highest in North America (63.5%). Overall 51.5% had an indication for lipid lowering therapy (LLT), and of these 43.5% were taking LLT. Only 34.0% of patients with an indication for LLT were at recommended LDL-c goals. The proportion of RA patients on target for LDL-c varied greatly between regions, from 23.1% in East Europe to 51.0% in North America. The LDL-c goal attainment was higher in RA patients at high risk (45.1%) compared to those at very high risk of CVD (18.0%).Conclusion:This large international survey on RA patients revealed considerable geographical differences in CVD preventive treatment. Lower goal attainment for LLT than reported for subjects with CHD was observed. We conclude that there is a substantial need for improvement in CVD preventive measures in RA patients.References:[1]De Backer G, Jankowski P, Kotseva K,et al.Management of dyslipidaemia in patients with coronary heart disease: Results from the ESC-EORP EUROASPIRE V survey in 27 countries.Atherosclerosis. 2019;285:135-146.[2]Perk J, De Backer G, Gohlke H,et al.European Guide-lines on cardiovascular disease prevention in clinical practice.Eur Heart J.2012:1635-701.Disclosure of Interests:Silvia Rollefstad: None declared, Eirik Ikdahl: None declared, Joe Sexton: None declared, Georeg Kitas: None declared, Piet van Riel: None declared, Cynthia S. Crowson Grant/research support from: Pfizer research grant, Ian Graham: None declared, Anne Grete Semb: None declared

Background:The prevention of joint destruction is an important goal in the management of rheumatoid arthritis (RA) and a key endpoint in drug trials. To quantify structural damage in radiographs, standardized scoring systems1, such as the Sharp/van der Heijde (SvdH) score2, which separately assesses joint space narrowing (JSN) and erosions, have been developed. However, application of these scores is time-consuming, requires specially trained staff, and results are subject to considerable intra- and inter-reader variability1. This makes their application poorly feasible in clinical practice and limits their reliability in clinical trials.Objectives:We aim to develop a fully automated deep learning-based scoring system of radiographic progression in RA to facilitate the introduction of quantitative joint damage assessment into daily clinical practice and circumvent inter-reader variability in clinical trials.Methods:5191 hand radiographs and their corresponding SvdH JSN scores from 640 adult patients with RA without visible joint surgery were extracted from the picture archive of a large tertiary hospital. The dataset was split, on a patient level, into training (2207 images/270 patients), validation (1150/133), and test (1834/237) sets. Joints were automatically localized using a particular deep learning model3which utilizes the local appearance of joints combined with information on the spatial relationship between joints. Small regions of interest (ROI) were automatically extracted around each joint. Finally, different deep learning architectures were trained on the extracted ROIs using the manually assigned SvdH JSN scores as ground truth (Fig. 1). The best models were chosen based on their performance on the validation set. Their ability to assign the correct SvdH JSN scores to ROIs was assessed using the unseen data of the test set.Fig. 1.3-step approach to automated scoring: joint localization, ROI extraction, JSN scoring.Results:ROI extraction was successful in 96% of joints, meaning that all structures were visible and joints were not malrotated by more than 30 degrees. For JSN scoring, modifications of the VGG164architecture seemed to outperform adaptations of DenseNet5. The mean obtained accuracy (i.e., the percentage of joints to which the human reader and our system assigned the same score) for MCP joints was 80.5 %, that for PIP joints was 72.3 %. In only 1.8 % (MCPs) and 1.7 % (PIPs) of cases did the predicted score differ by more than one point from the ground truth (Fig. 2).Fig. 2.Confusion matrices of automatically assigned scores (‘predicted score’) vs. the human reader ground truth (‘true score’).Conclusion:Although a number of previous efforts have been published, none have succeeded in replacing manual scoring systems at scale. To our knowledge, this is the first work that utilizes a dataset of adequate size to apply deep learning to automate JSN scoring. Our results are, even in this early version, in good agreement with human reader ground truth scores. In future versions, this system can be expanded to the detection of erosions and to all joints contained in the SvdH score.References:[1]Boini, S. & Guillemin, F. Radiographic scoring methods as outcome measures in rheumatoid arthritis: properties and advantages.Ann. Rheum. Dis.60, 817–827 (2001).[2]van der Heijde, D. How to read radiographs according to the Sharp/van der Heijde method.J. Rheumatol.27, 261–263 (2000).[3]Payer, C., Štern, D., Bischof, H. & Urschler, M. Regressing Heatmaps for Multiple Landmark Localization Using CNNs. inMedical Image Computing and Computer-Assisted Intervention – MICCAI 2016230–238 (Springer, Cham, 2016). doi:10.1007/978-3-319-46723-8_27.[4]Simonyan, K. & Zisserman, A. Very Deep Convolutional Networks for Large-Scale Image Recognition.arXiv:1409.1556 [cs](2015).[5]Huang, G., Liu, Z., van der Maaten, L. & Weinberger, K. Q. Densely Connected Convolutional Networks.arXiv:1608.06993 [cs](2016).Disclosure of Interests:Thomas Deimel: None declared, Daniel Aletaha Grant/research support from: AbbVie, Novartis, Roche, Consultant of: AbbVie, Amgen, Celgene, Lilly, Medac, Merck, Novartis, Pfizer, Roche, Sandoz, Sanofi Genzyme, Speakers bureau: AbbVie, Celgene, Lilly, Merck, Novartis, Pfizer, Sanofi Genzyme, UCB, Georg Langs Shareholder of: Co-Founder/Shareholder contextflow GmbH, Grant/research support from: Grants by Novartis, Siemens Healthineers, NVIDIA

A crusade is ongoing against element 17 in the periodic table, i.e. chlorine, one of the most abundant on earth. It is blamed, amongst other things, to be responsible for the depletion of the ozone layer, bioaccumulation of chlorinated compounds such as DDT or PCB's in animals and for the formation of dioxins in urban waste incineration.Due to socio-economic implications the issue has gone too early beyond the borders of the scientific community, before facts have been proven and evaluated. As a result, it has been treated in inappropriate and emotional ways even affecting scientific ethics in some cases.Therefore, the International Union of Pureand Applied Chemistry (IUPAC), conscious of its responsibilities in thisarea, has decided to publish this White Book with the collaboration ofoutstanding worldwide renowned scientific specialists from North-America,Europe and Japan in order to inform the public and the decision makersas well as the scientific community in an objective, open and unbiasedway on the up-to-date scientific knowledge.In doing so IUPAC is following its philosophyto make independent judgments on important issues that are touchy or sensitiveto the general public, governments and industry. IUPAC is not acting asa judge, but would like to critically evaluate the various factors forand against a particular issue.The occurrence of chlorine in nature andalso in living organisms, either as inorganic compounds or as numerousand very diversified natural "organo-chlorines" does not makeany doubt any more (T. GRAEDEL and W.C. KEENE, G.W. GRIBBLE).The availability of the raw material, salt,the development of convenient production technologies and the chemicalproperties of chlorine have generated a blooming tree of applicationsin such different fields as the pulp and paper industry (K. SOLOMON),the disinfection of water (H. GALAL-GORCHEV) but mainly in organic synthesisleading to a host of useful products, for example, polymers, pharmaceuticals,pesticides, dyes and pigments (J. FAUVARQUE).It is quite clear that chemists have notalways been aware beforehand of all the possible consequences of havingmanufactured new molecules, be they chlorinated or not. Chemicals emittedvoluntarily or inadvertently in the environment are distributed thereaccording to a complex set of physico-chemical properties (J. MIYAMOTO, K. BALLSCHMITER).Volatile compounds such as aliphatic chlorinatedand chlorofluorinated hydrocarbons find their way to the "atmosphericcompartments". Long-lived members of this family are even able toreach the stratosphere where they have been shown to produce detrimentaleffects to the global environment (M. MOLINA).The substitution of these so-called CFC'sby new shorter-lived molecules has probably been the best example of asound scientific approach to solving environmental problems. A host ofscientific studies has shown that short-lived chlorinated aliphatic compoundsmake only minor or even insignificant contributions to environmental problemssuch as stratospheric ozone depletion, global warming, "photochemicalsmog", "acid rain" or chloride levels in precipitations(J.A. FRANKLIN and H.W. SIDEBOTTOM).Are organo-chlorines harmless or harmful? The question seems as irrelevant as asking if natural compounds areharmless and anthropogenic ones toxic.Ecotoxicity (K. BALLSCHMITER) and toxicity(A. HANBERG) as any other "chemical" property of any compounddepends on the structure of its molecule; chlorinated or otherwise halogenatedcompounds do not escape this rule. Therefore, an undifferentiated banof whole classes of chemical compounds has to be qualified as unscientific.Even in apparently "homogeneous"families such as the dioxins, toxicity varies considerably with the positionand the number of substituents (Ch. RAPPE). There is thus no scientificfoundation to the amalgamation of all chlorinated compounds as a groupshowing special toxic and ecotoxic properties, no more than one shouldconsider organo-oxygens or organo-nitrogens as a whole as harmful becausehighly toxic warfare agents as sarin or tabun contain these atoms in theirmolecules.This obviously doesn't mean that organo-chlorinewaste, as any sort of waste, has not to be managed. The problem has beentackled and technical solutions have been developed to reduce byproductsformation by improving the production processes, to destroy and/or valorisethe remaining production wastes (R. PAPP). This has now to be generalizedin the most economic and environmentally friendly ways. In some cases,post-use recycling is being developed and starts to be generalized asfor the recycling of PVC for which "second life" applicationshave been found (G. MENGES).In conclusion, I would like to add a fewwords formulated by the Nobel laureate Prof. Lord George Porter earlieron. "There is no way that humans can foresee all the consequencesof their actions, .... The only sure foundation for security in this technologicalworld is to have a science base which is continually asking whatever questionsseem interesting and is always there to advise and to act when the needemerges."It is the responsibility of the scientificcommunity to develop this science base, of the media to help them toinform the public in an understandable and unbiased way, of the publicauthority to take the relevant decisions on the bases of sound scienceand not on emotional reactions and of industry to act responsibly, endorsingproduct stewardship and responsible care. This is true for chlorineand its chemistry as well as it is for all human activities.

AbstractAs was the case with silversmiths (Note 3), many more cabinet-makers were wcrking in Amsterdam during the second half of the 18th century than in any other city in the Dutch Republic, the names of 195 of them being now known as opposed to 57 in The Hague and 32 in Rotterdam (Note 2). Most of those 195 names have been culled from the few surviving documents of the Guild of St. Joseph in Amsterdam, to which the cabinet-makers belonged (Note 4), supplemented by other sources, such as printed registers of craftsmen and shopkeepers (Note 6). Another important source is the newspaper the Amsterdamsche Courant with its advertisements placed by craftsmen themselves, with notices of sales, bankruptcies, lotteries and annual fairs and with advertisements concerning subsidiary or related trades. Since these advertisements were directed at the consumer, they often contain stylistic descriptions such as are not found elsewhere. Moreover, they aford valuable clues to archival material. Hence an investigation of all the advertisements from the years 1751-1800 has formed the basis for a study of Amsterdam cabinet-making, some results of which are presented here. Such a study is doomed largely to remain theoretical. The records can hardly ever be linked with surviving pieces, as these are virtually always anonymous since Amsterdam cabinet-makers were not required to stamp or sign their work. Moreover, only a few pieces of Dutch 18th-century furniture have a known provenance, so that it is only rarely possible to link a piece with a bill or another document and identify its maker. Thus it is not yet possible to form a reliable picture of a local Amsterdam style, let alone embark on attributions to individual makers (Note 8). In this light special importance may be attached to two commodes of the third quarter of the century which are exceptional in that they bear a signature, that of Andries Bongen (Figs. 1, 2, Notes 10, 11). These commodes, being entirely French-inspired, illustrate a specific and little-known aspect of Amsterdam cabinet-making. French furniture was so sought after in Amsterdam at that period that in 1771 a strict ban was imposed on its importation in order to protect local cabinet-makers (Note 12). It had begun to be imitated even before that and the commodes by Bongen exemplify this development. Andries Bongen, who was probably born in Geldern, south of Cleves and just east of the border of the Dutch Republic, is first recorded in Amsterdam in May 1763 on his marriage to Willemina, daughter of the smith Lambert van der Beek. He registered as a citizen on 5 July 1763 and became a master cabinet-maker some time between March 1763 and March 1764 (Note 19), so that, accordirtg to the Guild regulations, he must previously have trained for two years under an Amsterdam master (Note 20). At the time of his marriage he was living in St. Jorisstraat, but by the end of 1766 he had moved to Spui and between 1769 and 1771 he moved again, to Muiderpleinlje. When he and his wife made their will in 1772, their possessions were worth something under 8000 guilders (Note 23). This suggests that the business was quite flourishing, which seems to be confirmed by the fact that Bongen received a commission from the city of Amsterdam in 1771. Two more pieces were made for the city in 1786 and 1789, but in the latter year Bongen was declared bankrupt. The inventory of his possessions drawn up then (see Appeytdix) shows how parlous his conditions had become, his goods being valued at only 300 guilders. The reference to a shop indicates that Bongen sold his own furniture, although he had no stock to speak of at that point. The mention of eight work-benches, however, sugests that his output had previously been quite large. This is confirmed by the extent of his debts, notably that to the timber merchant Jan van Mekeren (Note 27). Other creditors included 'Rudolfeus Eyk', who probably supplied iron trelliszvork for bookcases and the like (Note 28), and the glass merchants Boswel en Zonen (Note 29) No debtors are listed and the only customer who can tentatively be identified is a 'Heer Hasselaar' who might be Pieter Cornelis Hasselaer (1720-95), several times burgomaster of Amsterdam between 1773 and 1794 (Note 30). Bongen died three years after his bankruptcy, at which time he was living in Nieuwe Looiersstraat. He appears to have continued working as a cabiytet-maker up to his death and his widow probably carried on the business until her own death in 1808, but nothing is known of this later period. The clearest insight into the character of part of Bongen's output is aforded by the advertisement he placed in the Amsterdamsehe Courant of 4 December 1766, describing three pieces of furniture 'in the French manner'. This is the first announcement by an 18th-century Amsterdam cabinet-maker of work in the French style. Bongen mentions two commodes decorated with floral marquetry, a technique which had flourished in Amsterdam in the late 17th and early 18th centuries (Note 34), but which had largely fallen into disuse on the advent around 1715 of a more sober type of furniture with plain walnut veneers on the English model (Note 36). In France a form of floral marquetry reappeared in the 1740s, being further developed in the following decade under the influence of Jean-François Oeben (1721-63). From the late 1750s there are indications of the presence of pieces of French marquetry furniture in the new style in Amsterdam (Notes 42, 43). The earliest explicit description of floral marquetry appears in a sale catalogue of 5 June 1765 (Note 44), while in another of 25 March 1766 (Note 46) many French pieces are detailed. Obviously, then, Bongen was endeavouring to capture a share, of this new market. The reappearance of elaborate marquetry on Amsterdam-made furniture was the result of a desire to emulate the French examples. The two commodes described in Bongen's advertisement can be identified with the one now in Amsterdam (Fig.2) and the one sold in London in 1947 (Fig.1). The latter still had more of its original mounts at the time nf the sale (Fig. 4) and the two probably formed a pair originally. The unusual fact that they are signed indicates that Bongen intended them to serve as show-pieces to demonstrate his skill at the beginning of his career (cf. Note 51, for another craftsman from abroad who began his career in Amsterdam by similarly advertising a spectacular piece). The commode in Amsterdam, with all its original mounts, demonstrates most clearly how close Bongen came to French prototypes, although his work has many personal traits nonetheless. In the marquetry the vase on a plinth on the front and the composition of the bouquets on the sides are notable (Fig.5), as are the large, full-blown blooms. The carcase, made entirely of oak, is remarkably well constructed and has a heavy, solid character. The commodes are outstanding for the complete integration of the marquetry and the mounts, in the manner of the finesl French furniture. The mounts presenl a problem, as it is not clear where they were made. They do not appear to be French or English, but one hesitates to attribute them to Amsterdam, as it is clear from documentary material that ornamental furniture-mounts were hardly ever made there in the second half of the 18th century. The mounts advertised by Ernst Meyrink in 1752 (Note 53) were probably still of the plain variety of the early part of the century and there is no further mention of mounts made in Amsterdam in the Amsterdamsche Courant. Once, in 1768, the silversmith J. H. Strixner placed an advertisement which refers to their gilding (Note 55). There is virtually no indication either of French mounts being imported and there is little Dutch furniture of this period that bears mounts which are indisputably French. In contrast to this, a large number of advertisements from as early as 1735 show that many mounts were imported from England, while among English manufacturers who came to sell their wares in Amsterdam were Robert Marshall of London (Note 60), James Scott (Note 61), William Tottie of Rotterdam (Note 62), whose business was continued after his death by Klaas Pieter Sent (Note 64), and H. Jelloly, again of Rotterdam (Notes 66, 67). It seems surprising that in a period when the French style reigned supreme so many mounts were imported from England, but the English manufacturers, mainly working in Birmingham, produced many mounts in the French style, probably often directed expressly at foreign markets. On the two commodes by Bongen only the corner mounts and the handles are of types found in the trade-catalogues of the English manufacturers (Figs. 7, 8, Notes 65, 70). The corner mounts are of a common type also found on French furniture (Note 71), so they doubtless copy a French model. The remaining mounts, however, are the ones which are so well integrated with the marquetry and these are not found elsewhere. Recently a third commode signed by Bongen has come to light, of similar character to the first two (Fig.3). Here all the mounts are of types found in the catalogues (Figs.7-10, Note 72). Apparently Bongen could not, or did not choose to, obtain the special mounts any more, although he clearly wanted to follow the same design (Fig. 6). This third commode was undoubtedly made somewhal later than the other two. The marquetry on it is the best preserved and it is possible to see how Bongen enlivened it with fine engraving. Because this piece is less exceptional, it also allows us to attribute some unsigned pieces to Bongen on the basis of their closeness to it, namely a commode sold in London in 1962 (Fig.11, Note 73) and two smaller, simpler commodes, which may originally have formed a pair, one sold in London in 1967 (Fig.12, Nole 74) and the other in a Dutch private collection (Figs.13, 14). The first one has a highly original marquetry decoration of a basket of flowers falling down. On the sides of this piece, and on the front of the two smaller ones, are bouquets tied with ribbons. These were doubtless influenced by contemporary engravings, but no direct models have been identified. The construction of the commode in the Netherlands tallies completely with tltat of the signed example in Amsterdam. The mounts are probably all English, although they have not all been found in English catalogues (Fig.15, Note 76). A seventh commode attributable to Bongen was sold in Switzerland in 1956 (Fig.16, Note 77). It is unusual in that walnut is employed as the background for the floral marquetry, something virtually unknown in Paris, but not uncommon on German work of French inspiration (Note 78). That commodes constitute the largest group among the furniture in the French style attributable to Bongen should cause no surprise, for the commode was the most sought after of all the pieces produced by the ébénistes not only in France, but all over Europe. Two other pieces which reveal Bongen's hand are two tables which look like side-tables, but which have fold-out tops to transform them into card-tables, a type seldom found in France, but common in England and the Netherlands (Note 80). One is at Bowhill in Scotland (Figs.17, 19, 20), the other was sold in London in 1972 (Fig.18, Note 79). The corner mounts on the Bowhill table, which probably also graced the other one originally, are the same as those on the two small commodes, while the handles are again to be found in an English catalogue (Fig.21, Note 81). What sounds like a similar card-table was sold at auction in Amsterdam in 1772 (Note 82). In Bongen's advertisement of 1766 mention is also made of a secretaire, this being the first appearance of this term in the Amsterdamsche Courant and Bongen finding it necessary to define it. No secretaire is known that can be attributed to him. A medal-cabinet in the form of a secretaire in Leiden (Figs.22, 23) hasfloral marquetry somewhat reminiscent of his work, but lacking its elegance, liveliness and equilibrium. Here the floral marquetry is combined with trompe l'oeil cubes and an interlaced border, early Neo-Classical elements which were first employed in France in the 1750s, so that this piece represents a later stage than those attributable to Bongen, which are all in a pure Louis xvstyle. Virtually identical in form to the medal-cabinet is a secretaire decorated solely with floral marquetry (Fig. 24, Note 87). This also appears not to be by Bongen, but both pieces may have been made under his influence. The picture we can form of Bongen's work on the basis of the signed commodes is clearly incomplete. His secretaire was decorated with '4 Children representing Trade', an exceptionally modern and original idea in 1766 even by French standards (Note 88). His ambitions in marquetry obviously wentfar beyondflowers, but no piece has yet beenfound which evinces this, nor is anything known of the Neo-Classical work which he may have produced after this style was introduced in Amsterdam around 1770. Bongen may perhaps have been the first Amsterdam cabinet-maker to produce marquetry furniture in the French style, but he was not to remain the only one. In 1771 and 1772 furniture in both the Dutch and French mode was advertised for sale at the Kistenmakerspand in Kalverstraat, where all furniture-makers belonging to the Guild of St. Joseph could sell their wares (Note 89). The 'French' pieces were probably decorated with marquetry. Only a small number of cabinet-makers are known to have worked in this style, however. They include Arnoldus Gerritsen of Rheestraat, who became a master in 1769 and sold his stock, including a 'small French inlaid Commode', in 1772, and Johan Jobst Swenebart (c.1747 - active up to 1806 or later), who became a master in 1774 and advertised in 1775 that he made 'all sorts of choice Cabinet- and Flower-works', the last term referring to furniture decorated with floral marquetry. Not only French types of furniture, but also traditional Dutch pieces were now decorated with French-inspired marquetry,for example a collector's cabinet advertised in 1775 by Johan Jacob Breytspraak (c.1739-95), who had become a master in 1769-70; a bureau-bookcase, a form introduced in the first half of the century probably under English influence (Note 100), exhibited in 1772 (Note 99); and a display cabinet for porcelain supplied, though not necessarily made, by Pieter Uylenburg en Zoon in 1775 (Notes 101, 102). Even long-case clocks were enriched with marquetry, witness the one advertised by the clock-maker J. H. Kühn in 1775 and another by him which was sold by auction in Edam in 1777 (Note 104). The latter was, like the bureau-bookcase exhibited in 1772, decorated with musical instruments, again a motif borrowed from France, where it was used increasingly from the 1760s onwards (Note 105). A clock signed by the Amsterdam clock-maker J. George Grüning also has a case with marquetry of musical instruments. This must date from about 1775-80, but its maker is unknown (Fig. 25, Notes 106, 107). All four of the Amsterdam cabinet-makers known to have done marquetry around 1770 came from Germany and all were then only recently established in Amsterdam. In fact half of the 144 Amsterdam cabinet-makers working in the second half of the 18th century whose origins it has been possible to trace came from Germany, so the German element was even stronger there than in Paris, where Germans comprised about a third of the ébénistes (Note 108) and where they had again played an important role in the revival of marquetry. None qf the four in Amsterdam was exclusively concerned with marquetry. Indeed, for some of them it may only have been a secondary aspect of their work. This was not true of Bongen, but he too made plain pieces, witness the four mahogany gueridons he made for the city of Amsterdam in 1771 or the two cupboards also made for the city in 1786 and 1789 (Notes 111, 112).No marquetry is listed in his inventory either. Perhaps fashions had changed by the time of his bankruptcy. Such scant knowledge as we have of Amsterdam cabinet-making between 1775 and 1785 certainly seems to suggest this. In the descriptions of the prizes for furraiture-lotteries, such as took place regularly from 1773 onwards (Note 114), marquetry is mentioned in 1773 and 1775 (Notes 115, 116), but after that there is no reference to itfor about tenyears. Nor is there any mention of marquetry in the very few cabinet-makers' advertisements of this period. When the clock-maker Kühn again advertised long-case clocks in 1777 and 1785, the cases were of carved mahogany (Notes 121, 122). Certainly in France the popularity of marquetry began to wane shortly before 1780 and developments in the Netherlands were probably influenced by this. Towards the end of the 1780s, however, pieces described as French and others decorated with 'inlaid work' again appear as prizes in lotteries, such as those organized by Johan Frederik Reinbregt (active 1785-95 or later), who came from Hanover (Note 128), and Swenebart. The latter advertised an inlaid mahogany secretaire in 1793 (Note 132) and similar pieces are listed in the announcement of the sale of the stock of Jean-Matthijs Chaisneux (c.1734-92), one of a small group of French upholsterers first mentioned in Amsterdam in the 1760s, who played an important part in the spread of French influence there (Note 134). In this later period, however, reference is only made to French furniture when English pieces are also mentioned, so a new juxtaposition is implied and 'French' need not mean richly decorated with marquetry as it did in the 1760s. In fact the marquetry of this period was probably of a much more modest character. A large number of pieces of Dutch furniture in the late Neo-Classical style are known, generally veneered with rosewood or mahogany, where the marquetry is confined to trophies, medallions on ribbons, geometric borders and suchlike. A sideboard in the Rijksmuseum is an exceptionally fine and elaborately decorated example of this light and elegant style (Fig. 26) None of this furniture is known for certain to have been made in Amsterdam, but two tobacco boxes with restrained marquetry decoration (Fig.27, Note 136) were made in Haarlem in 1789 by Johan Gottfried Fremming (c.1753-1832) of Leipzig, who had probably trained in Amsterdam and whose style will not have differed much from that current in the capital. Boxes of this type are mentioned in the 1789 inventory of the Amsterdam cabinet-maker Johan Christiaan Molle (c.1748-89) as the only pieces decorated with inlay (Note 138). In the 1792 inventory of Jacob Keesinger (active 1764-92) from Ziegenhain there are larger pieces of marquetry furniture as well (Note 139), but they are greatly in the minority, as is also the case with a sale of cabinet-makers' wares held in 1794 (Note 141), which included a book-case of the type in Fig.28 (Note 142). Similarly the 1795 inventory of Johan Jacob Breytspraak, one of the most important and prosperous cabinet-makers of the day, contains only a few marquetry pieces (Note 144). The 1793 inventory of Hendrik Melters (1720-93) lists tools and patterns for marquetry, but no pieces decorated with it (Note 145). Melters seems to have specialized in cases for long-case clocks, the Amsterdam clock-maker Rutgerus van Meurs (1738-1800) being one of his clients (Note 146). The cases of clocks signed by Van Meurs bear only simple marquetry motifs (Note 147). The Dutch late Neo-Classical furniture with restrained marquetry decoration has no equivalent in France; it is more reminiscent of English work (Note 148). The pattern-books of Hepplewhite and Sheraton undoubtedly found their way to the Dutch Republic and the 'English' furniture mentioned in Amsterdam sources from 1787 probably reflected their influence. However, the introduction of the late, restrained Neo-Classical style in furniture was not the result of English influence alone. Rather, the two countries witnessed a parallel development. In England, too, marquetry was re-introduced under French influence around 1760 and it gradually became much simpler during the last quarter of the century, French influences being amalgamated into a national style (Notes 150, 151). On the whole, the Frertch models were followed more closely in the Netherlands than in England. Even at the end of the century French proportions still very much influenced Dutch cabinet-making. Thus the typically Dutch late Neo-Classical style sprang from a combirtation of French and English influences. This makes it difficult to understand what exactly was meant by the distinction made between ;French' and 'English' furniture at this time. The sources offer few clues here and this is even true of the description of the sale of the stock of the only English cabinet-maker working in Amsterdam at this period, Joseph Bull of London, who was active between 1787 and 1792, when his goods were sold (Notes 155, 156).

O presente trabalho tem como objeto de estudo a análise dos conceitos de Interacionismo Simbólico de George Herbert Mead e Agir Comunicativo de Jürgen Habermas e suas contribuições para o ensino de Filosofia no Ensino Médio, articulada à uma ação educativa realizada no contexto da Escola Pública. A pesquisa consistiu em desenvolver uma metodologia de ensino de filosofia na escola pública, orientada numa perspectiva de identificação, problematização e busca por soluções de problemas com base em estudos da tradição filosófica e sua devida contextualização. A filosofia seria uma espécie de mediadora e guia, entre as diferentes formas de conhecimentos presente nas vidas dos estudantes, e teria o papel fundamental de organizar e articular criticamente, de acordo com seu contexto e necessidades, as diversas nuances dos saberes. A relevância da pesquisa, justifica-se, inicialmente, pelo fato de ser a primeira experiência prática de ensino, no Brasil, baseada no interacionismo simbólico de George Herbert Mead e suas contribuições para compreender a sociedade contemporânea; em segundo lugar, pela necessidade de se construir alternativas contra-hegemônicas de ensino, valorizando as experiências dos sujeitos, suas vivências diárias, buscando a constituição de uma ética e resolução de problemas.

AbstractThe paper deals predominantly with the theory of moral reconstruction in George H. Mead’s thinking. It also points out certain underdeveloped aspects of Mead’s social-psychological theory of the self and his moral philosophy, and attempts to develop them. Since Mead’s ideas concerning ethics and moral philosophy are anchored in his social psychology, the paper begins with a description of his theory and underlines some problematic areas and tries to solve them. The most important of these, as the author argues, is the hypothesis that social conflicts should be seen as the root of reflective, discursive thinking. Unlike some of his contemporaries (such as Vygotsky), Mead failed to appreciate this aspect of the genesis of the dynamics of the self.

AbstractThe paper proposes an outline of a reconciliatory approach to the perennial controversy between epistemological realism and anti-realism (constructionism). My main conceptual source in explaining this view is the philosophy of pragmatism, more specifically, the epistemological theories of George H. Mead, John Dewey, and also William James’ radical empiricism. First, the paper analyzes the pragmatic treatment of the goal-directedness of action, especially with regard to Mead’s notion of attitudes, and relates it to certain contemporary epistemological theories provided by the cognitive sciences (Maturana, Rizzolatti, Clark). Against this background, the paper presents a philosophical as well as empirical justification of why we should interpret the environment and its objects in terms of possibilities for action. In Mead’s view, the objects and events of our world emerge within stable patterns of organism-environment interactions, which he called “perspectives”. According to pragmatism as well as the aforementioned cognitive scientists, perception and other cognitive processes include not only neural processes in our heads but also the world itself. Elaborating on Mead’s concept of perspectives, the paper argues in favor of the epistemological position called “constructive realism.”

The Florida 4-H Poultry BBQ program has existed for years, and the program for red meat cookery has been a huge success in Tennessee 4-H. With sponsorship for the winners at the state level, the Florida 4-H Tailgate Contest program will be a success in Florida as well. This program will strive to promote enjoyable outdoor cooking experiences, encourage the incorporation of animal protein in the diet in order to combat childhood obesity, improve youth nutritional knowledge and cooking skills, and impart knowledge about safe handling and proper degree of doneness to produce safe and delicious meat dishes. This 2-page fact sheet is the first publication in the Florida 4-H Tailgate series, and it discusses cooking equipment. Written by Chad Carr, Brian Estevez, Sonja Crawford, Jason Scheffler, George Baker, Ed Jennings, and Mark Mauldin, and published by the 4-H Youth Development Department, July 2016.­http://edis.ifas.ufl.edu/4h372

In January of 1908 H. Addington Bruce, a writer for the North American Review, observed that "On every street, at every corner, we meet the neurasthenics" (qtd. in Lears, 50). "Discovered" by the neurologist George M. Beard in 1880, neurasthenia was a nervous disorder characterized by a "lack of nerve force" and comprised of a host of neuroses clustered around an overall paralysis of the will. Historian Barbara Will notes that there were "thousands of men and women at the turn of the century who claimed to be ‘neurasthenics,’" among them Theodore Roosevelt, Edith Wharton, William and Henry James, and Beard himself. These neurasthenics had free roam over the American psychiatric landscape from the date of Beard’s diagnosis until the 1920s, when more accurate diagnostic tools began to subdivide the nearly uninterpretably wide variety of symptoms falling under the rubric of "neurasthenic." By then, however, nearly every educated American had suffered from (or known someone who had) the debilitating "disease"--including Willa Cather, who in The Professor’s House would challenge her readers to acknowledge and engage with the cultural phenomenon of neurasthenia. Cultural historian T.J. Jackson Lears, long a student of neurasthenia, defines it as an "immobilizing, self-punishing depression" stemming from "endless self-analysis" and "morbid introspection" (47, 49). What is especially interesting about the disease, for Lears and other scholars, is that it is a culture-bound syndrome, predicated not upon individual experience, but upon the cultural and economic forces at play during the late nineteenth century. Barbara Will writes that neurasthenia was "double-edged": "a debilitating disease and [...] the very condition of the modern American subject" (88). Interestingly, George Beard attributed neurasthenia to the changes wracking his culture: Neurasthenia is the direct result of the five great changes of modernity: steam power, the periodical press, the telegraph, the sciences, and the mental activity of women. (qtd. in Will, 94) For Beard, neurasthenia was a peculiarly modern disease, the result of industrialization and of the ever-quickening pace of commercial and intellectual life. Jackson Lears takes Beard’s attribution a step further, explaining that "as larger frameworks of meaning weakened, introspection focused on the self alone and became ‘morbid’" (49). These frameworks of meaning--religious, political, psychosexual--were under steady assault in Beard’s time from commodifying and secularizing movements in America. Self-scrutiny, formerly yoked to Protestant salvation (and guilt), became more insular and isolating, resulting in the ultimate modern malady, neurasthenia. While Willa Cather may have inherited Beard’s and her culture’s assumptions of illness, it ultimately appears that Cather’s depiction of neurasthenia is a highly vexed one, both sympathetic and troubled, reflecting a deep knowledge of the condition and an ongoing struggle with the rationalization of scientific psychology. As an intellectual, she was uniquely positioned to both suffer from the forces shaping the new disease and to study them with a critical eye. Godfrey St. Peter, the anxious protagonist of The Professor’s House, becomes then a character that readers of Cather’s day would recognize as a neurasthenic: a "brain-worker," hard-charging and introspective, and lacking in what Beard would call "nerve force," the psychological stoutness needed to withstand modernity’s assault on the self. Moreover, St. Peter is not a lone sufferer, but is instead emblematic of a culture-wide affliction--part of a larger polity constantly driven to newer heights of production, consumption, and subsequent affliction. Jackson Lears theorizes that "neurasthenia was a product of overcivilization" (51), of consumer culture and endemic commodification. Beard himself characterized neurasthenia as an "American disease," a malady integral to the rationalizing, industrializing American economy (31). Cather reinforces the neurasthenic’s exhaustion and inadequacy as St. Peter comes across his wife flirting with Louis Marsellus, prompting the professor to wonder, "Beaux-fils, apparently, were meant by Providence to take the husband’s place when husbands had ceased to be lovers" (160). Not only does this point to the sexual inadequacy and listlessness characteristic of neurasthenia, but the diction here reinforces the modus operandi of the commodity culture--when an old model is used up, it is simply replaced by a newer, better model. Interestingly, Cather’s language itself often mirrors Beard’s. St. Peter at one point exclaims to Lillian, in a beatific reverie: "I was thinking [...] about Euripides; how, when he was an old man, he went and lived in a cave by the sea, and it was thought queer, at the time. It seems that houses had become insupportable to him" (156). The Professor’s "symptom of hopelessness," Beard might explain, "appears to be similar to that of morbid fear--an instinctive consciousness of inadequacy for the task before us. We are hopeless because our nerve force is so reduced that the mere holding on to life seems to be a burden too heavy for us" (49). Both Beard and Cather, then, zero in on the crushing weight of modern life for the neurasthenic. The Professor here aches for rest and isolation--he, in Beard’s language, "fears society," prompting Lillian to fear that he is "’becoming lonely and inhuman’" (162). This neurasthenic craving for isolation becomes much more profound in Book III of the novel, when St. Peter is almost completely estranged from his family. Although he feels he loves them, he "could not live with his family again" upon their return from Europe (274). "Falling out, for him, seemed to mean falling out of all domestic and social relations, out of his place in the human family, indeed" (275). St. Peter’s estrangement is not only with his family (an estrangement perhaps rationalized by the grasping or otherwise distasteful St. Peter clan), but with the human family. It is a solipsistic retreat from contact and effort, the neurasthenic’s revulsion for work of any kind. Neurasthenia, if left untreated, can become deadly. Beard explains: "A certain amount of nerve strength is necessary to supply the courage requisite for simple existence. Abstaining from dying demands a degree of force" (49). Compare this to the scene near the end of the narrative in which St. Peter, sleeping on the couch, nearly dies: When St. Peter at last awoke, the room was pitch-black and full of gas. He was cold and numb, felt sick and rather dazed. The long-anticipated coincidence had happened, he realized. The storm had blown the stove out and the window shut. The thing to do was to get up and open the window. But suppose he did not get up--? How far was a man required to exert himself against accident? [...] He hadn’t lifted his hand against himself--was he required to lift it for himself? (276) This classic scene, variously read as a suicide attempt or as an accident, can be understood as the neurasthenic’s complete collapse. The Professor’s decision is made solely in terms of effort; this is not a moral or philosophical decision, but one of physiological capacity. He is unwilling to "exert" the energy necessary to save himself, unwilling to "lift his hand" either for or against himself. Here is the prototypical neurasthenic fatigue--almost suicidal, but ultimately too passive and weak to even take that course of action. Accidental gassing is a supremely logical death for the neurasthenic. This appropriateness is reinforced by the Professor at the end of the narrative, when he remembers his near death: Yet when he was confronted by accidental extinction, he had felt no will to resist, but had let chance take its way, as it had done with him so often. He did not remember springing up from the couch, though he did remember a crisis, a moment of acute, agonized strangulation. (282) Again, the Professor is a passive figure, couch-ridden, subject to the whims of chance and his own lack of nerve. He is saved by Augusta, though, and does somehow manage to carry on with his life, if in a diminished way. We cannot accredit his survival to clinical treatment of neurasthenia, but perhaps his vicarious experience on the mesa with Tom Outland can account for his fortitude. Treatment of neurasthenia, according to Tom Lutz, "aimed at a reconstitution of the subject in terms of gender roles" (32). S. Weir Mitchell, a leading psychiatrist of the day, treated many notable neurasthenics. Female patients, in line with turn-of-the-century models of female decorum, were prescribed bed rest for up to several months, and were prohibited from all activity and visitors. (Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s "The Yellow Wallpaper" has long been considered a critique of Mitchell’s "rest cure" for women. Interestingly, St. Peter’s old study has yellow wall paper.) Treatments for men, again consistent with contemporary gender roles, emphasized vigorous exercise, often in natural settings: Theodore Roosevelt, Thomas Eakins, Frederic Remington, and Owen Wister were all sent to the Dakotas for rough-riding exercise cures [...] Henry James was sent to hike in the Alps, and William James continued to prescribe vigorous mountain hikes for himself[.] (32) Depleted of "nerve force," male neurasthenics were admonished to replenish their reserves in rugged, survivalist outdoor settings. Beard documents the treatment of one "Mr. O," whom, worn out by "labor necessitated by scholarly pursuits," is afflicted by a settled melancholia, associated with a morbid and utterly baseless fear of financial ruin...he was as easily exhausted physically as mentally. He possessed no reserve force, and gave out utterly whenever he attempted to overstep the bounds of the most ordinary effort. [As part of his treatment] He journeyed to the West, visited the Yellowstone region, and at San Francisco took steamer for China [...] and returned a well man, nor has he since relapsed into his former condition. (139-41) Beard’s characterization of "Mr. O" is fascinating in several ways. First, he is the prototypical neurasthenic--worn out, depressed, full of "baseless" fears. More interestingly, for the purposes of this study, part of the patient’s cure is effected in the "Yellowstone region," which would ultimately be made a national park by neurasthenic outdoors man Theodore Roosevelt. This natural space, hewn from the wilds of the American frontier, is a prototypical refuge for nervous "brain-workers" in need of rejuvenation. This approach to treatment is especially intriguing given the setting of Book II of The Professor's House: an isolated Mesa in the Southwest. While St. Peter himself doesn’t undertake an exercise cure, "Tom Outland’s Story" does mimic the form and rhetoric of treatment for male neurasthenics, possibly accounting for the odd narrative structure of the novel. Cather, then, not only acknowledges the cultural phenomenon of neurasthenia, but incorporates it in the structure of the text. Outland’s experience on the mesa (mediated, we must remember, by the neurasthenic St. Peter, who relates the tale) is consistent with what Jackson Lears has termed the "cult of strenuousity" prevalent in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. According to Lears neurasthenics often sought refuge in "a vitalistic cult of energy and process; and a parallel recovery of the primal, irrational sources in the human psyche, forces which had been obscured by the evasive banality of modern culture" (57). Outland, discovering the mesa valley for the first time, explains that the air there "made my mouth and nostrils smart like charged water, seemed to go to my head a little and produce a kind of exaltation" (200). Like Roosevelt and other devotees of the exercise cure, Outland (and St. Peter, via the mediation) is re-"charged" by the primal essence of the mesa. The Professor later laments, "his great drawback was [...] the fact that he had not spent his youth in the great dazzling South-west country which was the scene of his explorers’ adventures" (258). Interestingly, Outland’s rejuvenation on the mesa is cast by Cather in hyperbolically masculine terms. The notoriously phallic central tower of the cliff city, for instance, may serve as a metaphor for recovered sexual potency: It was beautifully proportioned, that tower, swelling out to a larger girth a little above the base, then growing slender again. There was something symmetrical and powerful about the swell of the masonry. The tower was the fine thing that held all the jumble of houses together and made them mean something. It was red in color, even on that grey day. (201) Neurasthenics embraced "premodern symbols as alternatives to the vagueness of liberal Protestantism or the sterility of nineteenth-century positivism" (Lears xiii). The tower stands in striking contrast to St. Peter’s sexless marriage with Lillian, potentially reviving the Professor’s sagging neurasthenic libido. The tower also serves, in Outland’s mind, to forge meaning out of the seemingly random cluster of houses: "The notion struck me like a rifle ball that this mesa had once been like a bee-hive; it was full of little cluff-hung villages, it had been the home of a powerful tribe" (202). Outland’s discovery, cast in martial terms ("rifle ball"), reinscribes the imperialistic tendencies of the exercise cure and of Tom’s archeological endeavor itself. Tom Lutz notes that the exercise cure, steeped in Rooseveltian rhetoric, exemplified "a polemic for cultural change, a retraining, presented as a ‘return’ to heroic, natural, and manly values...The paternalism of Roosevelt’s appeal made sense against the same understanding of role which informed the cures for neurasthenia" (36). Outland seems to unconsciously concur, reflecting that "Wherever humanity has made that hardest of all starts and lifted itself out of mere brutality, is a sacred spot" (220-1). While Outland does have genuine admiration for the tribe, his language is almost always couched in terms of martial struggle, of striving against implacable odds. On a related note, George Kennan, writing in a 1908 McClure’s Magazine edited by Cather, proposed that rising suicide rates among the educated by cured by a "cultivation of what may be called the heroic spirit" (228). Cather was surely aware of this masculinizing, imperializing response to neurasthenic ennui--her poem, "Prairie Dawn," appears at the end of Kennan’s article! Outland’s excavation of Cliff City and its remains subsequently becomes an imperializing gesture, in spite of his respect for the culture. What does this mean, though, for a neurasthenic reading of The Professor’s House? In part, it acknowledges Cather’s response to and incorporation of a cultural phenomenon into the text in question. Additionally, it serves to clarify Cather’s critique of masculinist American culture and of the gendered treatment of neurasthenia. This critique is exemplified by Cather’s depiction of "Mother Eve": "Her mouth was open as if she were screaming, and her face, through all those years, had kept a look of terrible agony" (214-15). Not only does this harrowing image undermine Outland’s romantic depiction of the tribe, but it points to the moral bankruptcy of the cult of strenuousity. It is easy, Cather seems to argue, for Roosevelt and his ilk to "rough it" in the wilderness to regain their vigor, but the "real-life" wilderness experience is a far harsher and more dangerous prospect. Cather ultimately does not romanticize the mesa--she problematizes it as a site for neurasthenic recovery. More importantly, this vexed reading of the treatment suggests a vexed reading of neurasthenia and of "American Nervousness" itself. Ultimately, in spite of his best efforts to recover the intense experience of his past and of Tom Outland’s, St. Peter fails. As Mathias Schubnell explains, Cather’s "central character is trapped between a modern urban civilization to which he belongs against his will, and a pastoral, earth-bound world he yearns for but cannot regain" (97). This paradox is exemplified by the Professor’s early lament to Lillian, "’it’s been a mistake, our having a family and writing histories and getting middle-aged. We should have been picturesquely shipwrecked together when we were young’" (94). The reader, of course, recognizes the absurdity of this image--an absurdity strongly reinforced by the image of the deceased "Mother Eve" figure. These overcivilized men, Cather suggests, have no conception of what intense experience might be. That experience has been replaced, the Professor explains, by rationalizing, industrializing forces in American culture: Science hasn’t given us any new amazements, except of the superficial kind we get from witnessing dexterity and sleight-of-hand. It hasn’t given us any richer pleasures...nor any new sins--not one! Indeed, it has taken our old ones away. It’s the laboratory, not the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sins of the world. You’ll agree there is not much thrill about a physiological sin...I don’t think you help people by making their conduct of no importance--you impoverish them. (68) St. Peter, the neurasthenic humanist, gets here at the heart of his (and America’s) sickness--it has replaced the numinous and the sacred with the banal and the profane. The disorder he suffers from, once termed a sin, has become "physiological," as has his soul. It is worthwhile to contrast the Professor’s lament with Beard’s supremely rational boast: "It would seem, indeed, that diseases which are here described represent a certain amount of force in the body which, if our knowledge of physiological chemistry were more precise, might be measured in units" (115). The banal, utterly practical measuring of depression, of melancholia, of humanity’s every whim and caprice, Cather suggests, has dulled the luster of human existence. The Professor’s tub, then, becomes an emblem of the relentless stripping away of all that is meaningful and real in Cather’s culture: "Many a night, after blowing out his study lamp, he had leaped into that tub, clad in his pyjamas, to give it another coat of some one of the many paints that were advertised to behave like porcelain, but didn’t" (12). Porcelain here becomes the religion or art which once sustained the race, replaced by the false claims of science. The Professor, though, seems too world-weary, too embittered to actually turn to religious faith. Perhaps God is dead in his world, eliminated by the Faustian quest for scientific knowledge. "His career, his wife, his family, were not his life at all, but a chain of events which had happened to him" (264). Godfrey St. Peter, like the rest of the neurasthenics, is doomed to an incurable sickness, victim of a spiritual epidemic which, Cather suggests, will not soon run its course. References Beard, George M. A Practical Treatise on Nervous Exhaustion (Neurasthenia). A. D. Rockwell, ed. New York: E.B. Treat & Company, 1905. Cather, Willa. The Professor’s House. London: Virago, 1981. Fisher-Wirth, Ann. "Dispossession and Redemption in the Novels of Willa Cather." Cather Studies 1 (1990): 36-54. Harvey, Sally Peltier. Predefining the American Dream: The Novels of Willa Cather. Toronto: Associated UP, 1995. Hilgart, John. "Death Comes for the Aesthete: Commodity Culture and the Artifact in Cather’s The Professor’s House." Studies in the Novel 30:3 (Fall 1998): 377-404. Kennan, George. McClure’s Magazine 30:2 (June 1908): 218-228. Lears, T.J. Jackson. No Place of Grace: Antimodernism and the Transformation American Culture. New York: Pantheon Books, 1981. Lutz, Tom. American Nervousness, 1903: An Anecdotal History. Ithaca: Cornell UP, 1991. Schubnell, Matthias. "The Decline of America: Willa Cather’s Spenglerian Vision in The Professor’s House." Cather Studies 2 (1993): 92-117. Stouck, David. "Willa Cather and The Professor’s House: ‘Letting Go with the Heart." Western American Literature 7 (1972): 13-24. Will, Barbara. "Nervous Systems, 1880-1915." American Bodies: Cultural Histories of the Physique. Tim Armstrong, ed. New York: NYUP, 1996. 86-100. Links The Willa Cather Electronic Archive The Mower's Tree (Cather Colloquium Newsletter) George Beard information

A public sculpture in Seattle’s downtown depicts a cement “hobo” sleeping on a bench. A man sleeps on the sidewalk nearby; a policeman comes by and enforcing the law, tells him to move on. The sculpted hobo, part of the city’s efforts to vitalize downtown, appears innocent and romantic. Meanwhile, the living “hobo” is removed from the street as a sign of disorder in the same attempt to create vital streets. Within the vicinity of one block, the person sleeping on the street is at once romanticized and criminalized. What links the sculpted “hobo” with nostalgia and the real person with nuisance? The streets are full of repressive mechanisms. Laws, prohibitory signs, architecture, surveillance, are but a few displays of power that serve to discipline subjects in public spaces. Disciplinary communication strategies serve as mechanisms of repression to disqualify certain types of behaviors and people, while at the same time inviting others. Davis explains this in his discussion of what he calls “sadistic street environments” where architecture of the streets is built in such a way as to facilitate the geographic expulsion of the poor (Davis 232). Some public benches are designed, for example, to prevent sitting for long periods of time. This expulsion is closely tied to visions of clean streets in which consumers are protected from contact with the unclean uncertainty of poverty, a social condition that does not fit into the imagined vitality of orderly consumption. Said wrote that the other and the knowledge about otherness are created through discourse in order to alleviate a fear of the unknown and to justify the need for domination. An identity is formed through something that one “is not,” rather that through something that one “is.” Applying this idea to space, Said described an arbitrary geographical boundary that is drawn, enabling the insiders to label the outsider as the “other” and to separate “ours” from “theirs.” The production of the geographical other takes place through what Said calls poetically endowed meaning, constructed through a limited vocabulary and images that impose and reproduce themselves as reality. In this way, Said’s conceptualization of othering can be applied to the streets. For example, the term homeless encompasses an imagined geography. Like the term “hobo” (a nomad), a person sleeping on the street is commonly referred to as “homeless.” Someone who is “homeless” has no home, and therefore not within his or her own geographical boundaries. “Homeless” cannot be linked to a specific location, deriving a negative identity, through something that is lacking – a home. This creates a dualism; in that being “homeless” is in direct opposition to being with a home, creating the “insider” identity (attached to place) in relation to the “outsider” (having no place). Carrying out one’s domestic functions (like sleeping) in public is, then, an inappropriate intrusion. Having no home, however, creates an uncomfortable ambiguity because it limits the production of knowledge that can be identified geographically (i.e. address, consumption patterns and other demographic information) about the subject. Foucault explained the way that the mechanisms of control incite a discourse about the subject and eventually attempt to discipline it through encroaching regulation. In this way, Wilson and Kelling’s Broken Windows Theory has been enthusiastically used in US city revitalization efforts and serves as an example of such discursively produced disciplinary strategies. The authors construct categories, “signs of disorder,” and recommend an eradication of these signs (who in some cases happen to be people). For example, in the following segment of Wilson and Kelling’s thesis (italics are mine); “unattached adults,” “teenagers” and “panhandlers” are defined as disruptive subjects in need of social control. A stable neighborhood of families who care for their homes, mind each other’s children, and confidently frown on unwanted intruders can change, in a few years or even a few months, to an inhospitable and frightening jungle. A piece of property is abandoned, weeds grow up, a window is smashed. Adults stop scolding rowdy children; the children, emboldened, become more rowdy. Families move out, unattached adults move in. Teenagers gather in front of the corner store. The merchant asks them to move; they refuse. Fights occur. Litter accumulates. People start drinking in front of the grocery; in time, an inebriate slumps to the sidewalk and is allowed to sleep it off. Pedestrians are approached by panhandlers (Wilson and Kelling 32). In this narrative, outsiders invade a neighborhood, creating a frightening world for the stable families. The stranger threatens to turn the home into “an inhospitable and frightening jungle,” a terrifying, yet exotic place. Arguably, the lexical choice of “jungle” itself is racialized. The jungle is frightening because it is associated with something unfamiliar, natural and untamed by colonial powers. It is an environment in need of domination. In this discourse, a good neighborhood is set as the polar opposite of a jungle. In opposition to the jungle, a stable neighborhood is hospitable and safe—but to whom? The “unwanted intruders,” who are “confidently frown[ed]” upon by the “stable neighborhood of families” take shape as inebriates, teenagers, unattached adults and panhandlers. Hospitality and safety is not extended to them. The Broken Windows theory neatly defines the subjects and gives the disciplinary powers an easy target. Power can be straightforwardly exercised over drunks, the poor and the teenagers. The focus has been displaced from any possible systemic flaws onto individual subjects who are othered and necessitate domination. This poetically endowed meaning is perpetuated by mass media that have tapped into, dramatized and reinforced an existing collective paranoia of urban crime (Garland 158). As the American public have become increasingly reliant on media systems for information the spiral of fear and a desire to be protected from the dangerous streets are cultivated by the media. Gerbner’s study of cultivation (1998) demonstrated a relationship between increased exposure to violent television programs and an increased fear of the outdoors. Violence on television cultivates a perception of a “mean world” outside of the home. The home, then, becomes a guarded frontier and fear is embodied in the outsider. In turn, a solution for protection is readily offered through increased social control and the consumption of surveillance and security systems. At the same time, the outsider remains an exotic subject. This exoticism can be used to increase the economic capital of the disciplinary forces. As Said described in Orientalism, while the “other” needs to be disciplined, it has something to be possessed. The subject is undesirable and desired at the same time. In addition to being unfamiliar and fearsome, its representational form is both eccentric and quaint. As cities compete in global economies, to attract people requires continuous work in cultural production (Urry 193). One way that this is achieved is through visual consumption, which produces an aestheticized social life appealing to the tourist gaze. One type of this tourist gaze is what Urry calls a romantic gaze, which seeks to consume the “natural” and “authentic” object (150). The image of the sculpted hobo evokes the sentimental nostalgia of the way cities and hobos “used to be,” benevolent and innocent respectively. Such romanticized representation creates a symbolic capital necessary for the production of globally competitive cities. The discourse of preserving history, for example, allows developers to “reclaim” downtown and it is this “reclamation of history” that enhances the cultural and economic value of a neighborhood. Zukin argued that cultural claim to urban space has given developers new legitimacy to take over the management of the streets. The sculpture of a sleeping hobo helps produce a sense of place through whimsical art and a reference to an imagined idyllic past where hobos were safe and the public, compassionate. In this way, the exoticized and nostalgic representation of the “hobo” has become more real than the subject that is being depicted (Said 94). The life-sized sculpture rests on a bench as art, detached from the real subject, it becomes the “authentic hobo,” the nomad of the past, the romantic and tragic clown such as the one often depicted by Charlie Chaplin’s tramp. While such imagery is used to produce an urban aesthetic, the actual people tend to be treated with much less sympathy as they are cleaned off the streets. Benches are constructed to prevent lengthy repose and laws prohibit sitting on sidewalks as an alternative. Discussions of the living poor are commonly framed in terms of signs of disorder that need to be eradicated for the benefit of urban vitality. The idea that people inhabiting the streets need to be removed as a sign of disorder is a misguided effort in attempts to create vital streets. Nor will visual aesthetic be enough to save the streets. The spectacle of crowds and sittable spaces are some of the key factors that attract people to public spaces and make those spaces come to life (Whyte). In The Death and Life of Great American Cities, Jacobs famously argued that no one single element in the urban environment can generate a vital city. The perceptions of safety come from such regulating factors as the natural surveillance of eyes on the street and the public characters as described in Duneier’s ethnography of New York’s scavengers, panhandlers and street vendors. In an intricate dance, streets bring strangers together in casual contact with one another and cultivate the knowledge that difference exists and that it does not have to create a frightening world. Being in public builds trust, while impersonal city streets turn anonymous people into dangerous strangers. Jacobs wrote, “when people say that a city, or a part of it is dangerous or is a jungle what they mean primarily is that they do not feel safe on the sidewalks” (37). “A well used city street is apt to be a safe street. A deserted street is apt to be unsafe” (44). A place where diverse public presence is cultivated would reduce the fear of the streets and perhaps bring compassion back from the past. References Davis, Mike. City of Quartz. New York: Verso, 1990. Duneier, Mitchell. Sidewalk. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1999. Garland, David. The Culture of Control. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2001. Gerbner, George. ‘Cultivation Analysis: An Overview.’ Mass Communication and Society 1.3-4 (Summer-Fall 1998): 175-177. Foucault, Michel. The History of Sexuality. New York: Pantheon Books, 1978. Foucault, Michel. Power/Knowledge. Ed. Colin Gordon. New York: Pantheon Books, 1980. Jacobs, Jane. The Death and Life of Great American Cities. New York: Random House, 1961. McCarthy, Albert J. ‘Zero Tolerance in a Small Town.’ The FBI Law Enforcement Bulletin 67.1 (Jan. 1998): 6-11. Said, Edward. Orientalism. New York: Vintage Books, 1979. Urry, John. Consuming Places. New York: Routledge, 1995. Whyte, William H. City: Rediscovering the Center. New York: Anchor Books, 1988. Willson James Q. and Kelling, George L. ‘Broken Windows.’ Atlantic Monthly 249.3 (March 1982): 29-38. Zukin, Sharon. Landscapes of Power: From Detroit to Disney World. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Gendelman, Irina. "The Romantic and Dangerous Stranger." M/C Journal 9.3 (2006). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0607/03-gendelman.php>. APA Style Gendelman, I. (Jul. 2006) "The Romantic and Dangerous Stranger," M/C Journal, 9(3). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0607/03-gendelman.php>.

In Ireland today, we eat more pigmeat per capita, approximately 32.4 kilograms, than any other meat, yet you very seldom if ever see a pig (C.S.O.). Fat and flavour are two words that are synonymous with pig meat, yet scientists have spent the last thirty years cross breeding to produce leaner, low-fat pigs. Today’s pig professionals prefer to use the term “pig finishing” as opposed to the more traditional “pig fattening” (Tuite). The pig evokes many themes in relation to cuisine. Charles Lamb (1775-1834), in his essay Dissertation upon Roast Pig, cites Confucius in attributing the accidental discovery of the art of roasting to the humble pig. The pig has been singled out by many cultures as a food to be avoided or even abhorred, and Harris (1997) illustrates the environmental effect this avoidance can have by contrasting the landscape of Christian Albania with that of Muslim Albania.This paper will focus on the pig in Irish cuisine and culture from ancient times to the present day. The inspiration for this paper comes from a folklore tale about how Saint Martin created the pig from a piece of fat. The story is one of a number recorded by Seán Ó Conaill, the famous Kerry storyteller and goes as follows:From St Martin’s fat they were made. He was travelling around, and one night he came to a house and yard. At that time there were only cattle; there were no pigs or piglets. He asked the man of the house if there was anything to eat the chaff and the grain. The man replied there were only the cattle. St Martin said it was a great pity to have that much chaff going to waste. At night when they were going to bed, he handed a piece of fat to the servant-girl and told her to put it under a tub, and not to look at it at all until he would give her the word next day. The girl did so, but she kept a bit of the fat and put it under a keeler to find out what it would be.When St Martin rose next day he asked her to go and lift up the tub. She lifted it up, and there under it were a sow and twelve piglets. It was a great wonder to them, as they had never before seen pig or piglet.The girl then went to the keeler and lifted it, and it was full of mice and rats! As soon as the keeler was lifted, they went running about the house searching for any hole that they could go into. When St Martin saw them, he pulled off one of his mittens and threw it at them and made a cat with that throw. And that is why the cat ever since goes after mice and rats (Ó Conaill).The place of the pig has long been established in Irish literature, and longer still in Irish topography. The word torc, a boar, like the word muc, a pig, is a common element of placenames, from Kanturk (boar’s head) in West Cork to Ros Muc (headland of pigs) in West Galway. The Irish pig had its place in literature well established long before George Orwell’s English pig, Major, headed the dictatorship in Animal Farm. It was a wild boar that killed the hero Diarmaid in the Fenian tale The Pursuit of Diarmaid and Gráinne, on top of Ben Bulben in County Sligo (Mac Con Iomaire). In Ancient and Medieval Ireland, wild boars were hunted with great fervour, and the prime cuts were reserved for the warrior classes, and certain other individuals. At a feast, a leg of pork was traditionally reserved for a king, a haunch for a queen, and a boar’s head for a charioteer. The champion warrior was given the best portion of meat (Curath Mhir or Champions’ Share), and fights often took place to decide who should receive it. Gantz (1981) describes how in the ninth century tale The story of Mac Dathó’s Pig, Cet mac Matach, got supremacy over the men of Ireland: “Moreover he flaunted his valour on high above the valour of the host, and took a knife in his hand and sat down beside the pig. “Let someone be found now among the men of Ireland”, said he, “to endure battle with me, or leave the pig for me to divide!”It did not take long before the wild pigs were domesticated. Whereas cattle might be kept for milk and sheep for wool, the only reason for pig rearing was as a source of food. Until the late medieval period, the “domesticated” pigs were fattened on woodland mast, the fruit of the beech, oak, chestnut and whitethorn, giving their flesh a delicious flavour. So important was this resource that it is acknowledged by an entry in the Annals of Clonmacnoise for the year 1038: “There was such an abundance of ackornes this yeare that it fattened the pigges [runts] of pigges” (Sexton 45). In another mythological tale, two pig keepers, one called ‘friuch’ after the boars bristle (pig keeper to the king of Munster) and the other called ‘rucht’ after its grunt (pig keeper to the king of Connacht), were such good friends that the one from the north would bring his pigs south when there was a mast of oak and beech nuts in Munster. If the mast fell in Connacht, the pig-keeper from the south would travel northward. Competitive jealousy sparked by troublemakers led to the pig keepers casting spells on each other’s herds to the effect that no matter what mast they ate they would not grow fat. Both pig keepers were practised in the pagan arts and could form themselves into any shape, and having been dismissed by their kings for the leanness of their pig herds due to the spells, they eventually formed themselves into the two famous bulls that feature in the Irish Epic The Táin (Kinsella).In the witty and satirical twelfth century text, The Vision of Mac Conglinne (Aisling Mhic Conglinne), many references are made to the various types of pig meat. Bacon, hams, sausages and puddings are often mentioned, and the gate to the fortress in the visionary land of plenty is described thus: “there was a gate of tallow to it, whereon was a bolt of sausage” (Jackson).Although pigs were always popular in Ireland, the emergence of the potato resulted in an increase in both human and pig populations. The Irish were the first Europeans to seriously consider the potato as a staple food. By 1663 it was widely accepted in Ireland as an important food plant and by 1770 it was known as the Irish Potato (Mac Con Iomaire and Gallagher). The potato transformed Ireland from an under populated island of one million in the 1590s to 8.2 million in 1840, making it the most densely populated country in Europe. Two centuries of genetic evolution resulted in potato yields growing from two tons per acre in 1670 to ten tons per acre in 1800. A constant supply of potato, which was not seen as a commercial crop, ensured that even the smallest holding could keep a few pigs on a potato-rich diet. Pat Tuite, an expert on pigs with Teagasc, the Irish Agricultural and Food Development Authority, reminded me that the potatoes were cooked for the pigs and that they also enjoyed whey, the by product of both butter and cheese making (Tuite). The agronomist, Arthur Young, while travelling through Ireland, commented in 1770 that in the town of Mitchelstown in County Cork “there seemed to be more pigs than human beings”. So plentiful were pigs at this time that on the eve of the Great Famine in 1841 the pig population was calculated to be 1,412,813 (Sexton 46). Some of the pigs were kept for home consumption but the rest were a valuable source of income and were shown great respect as the gentleman who paid the rent. Until the early twentieth century most Irish rural households kept some pigs.Pork was popular and was the main meat eaten at all feasts in the main houses; indeed a feast was considered incomplete without a whole roasted pig. In the poorer holdings, fresh pork was highly prized, as it was only available when a pig of their own was killed. Most of the pig was salted, placed in the brine barrel for a period or placed up the chimney for smoking.Certain superstitions were observed concerning the time of killing. Pigs were traditionally killed only in months that contained the letter “r”, since the heat of the summer months caused the meat to turn foul. In some counties it was believed that pigs should be killed under the full moon (Mahon 58). The main breed of pig from the medieval period was the Razor Back or Greyhound Pig, which was very efficient in converting organic waste into meat (Fitzgerald). The killing of the pig was an important ritual and a social occasion in rural Ireland, for it meant full and plenty for all. Neighbours, who came to help, brought a handful of salt for the curing, and when the work was done each would get a share of the puddings and the fresh pork. There were a number of days where it was traditional to kill a pig, the Michaelmas feast (29 September), Saint Martins Day (11 November) and St Patrick’s Day (17 March). Olive Sharkey gives a vivid description of the killing of the barrow pig in rural Ireland during the 1930s. A barrow pig is a male pig castrated before puberty:The local slaughterer (búistéir) a man experienced in the rustic art of pig killing, was approached to do the job, though some farmers killed their own pigs. When the búistéirarrived the whole family gathered round to watch the killing. His first job was to plunge the knife in the pig’s heart via the throat, using a special knife. The screeching during this performance was something awful, but the animal died instantly once the heart had been reached, usually to a round of applause from the onlookers. The animal was then draped across a pig-gib, a sort of bench, and had the fine hairs on its body scraped off. To make this a simple job the animal was immersed in hot water a number of times until the bristles were softened and easy to remove. If a few bristles were accidentally missed the bacon was known as ‘hairy bacon’!During the killing of the pig it was imperative to draw a good flow of blood to ensure good quality meat. This blood was collected in a bucket for the making of puddings. The carcass would then be hung from a hook in the shed with a basin under its head to catch the drip, and a potato was often placed in the pig’s mouth to aid the dripping process. After a few days the carcass would be dissected. Sharkey recalls that her father maintained that each pound weight in the pig’s head corresponded to a stone weight in the body. The body was washed and then each piece that was to be preserved was carefully salted and placed neatly in a barrel and hermetically sealed. It was customary in parts of the midlands to add brown sugar to the barrel at this stage, while in other areas juniper berries were placed in the fire when hanging the hams and flitches (sides of bacon), wrapped in brown paper, in the chimney for smoking (Sharkey 166). While the killing was predominantly men’s work, it was the women who took most responsibility for the curing and smoking. Puddings have always been popular in Irish cuisine. The pig’s intestines were washed well and soaked in a stream, and a mixture of onions, lard, spices, oatmeal and flour were mixed with the blood and the mixture was stuffed into the casing and boiled for about an hour, cooled and the puddings were divided amongst the neighbours.The pig was so palatable that the famous gastronomic writer Grimod de la Reyniere once claimed that the only piece you couldn’t eat was the “oink”. Sharkey remembers her father remarking that had they been able to catch the squeak they would have made tin whistles out of it! No part went to waste; the blood and offal were used, the trotters were known as crubeens (from crúb, hoof), and were boiled and eaten with cabbage. In Galway the knee joint was popular and known as the glúiníns (from glún, knee). The head was roasted whole or often boiled and pressed and prepared as Brawn. The chitterlings (small intestines) were meticulously prepared by continuous washing in cool water and the picking out of undigested food and faeces. Chitterlings were once a popular bar food in Dublin. Pig hair was used for paintbrushes and the bladder was occasionally inflated, using a goose quill, to be used as a football by the children. Meindertsma (2007) provides a pictorial review of the vast array of products derived from a single pig. These range from ammunition and porcelain to chewing gum.From around the mid-eighteenth century, commercial salting of pork and bacon grew rapidly in Ireland. 1820 saw Henry Denny begin operation in Waterford where he both developed and patented several production techniques for bacon. Bacon curing became a very important industry in Munster culminating in the setting up of four large factories. Irish bacon was the brand leader and the Irish companies exported their expertise. Denny set up a plant in Denmark in 1894 and introduced the Irish techniques to the Danish industry, while O’Mara’s set up bacon curing facilities in Russia in 1891 (Cowan and Sexton). Ireland developed an extensive export trade in bacon to England, and hams were delivered to markets in Paris, India, North and South America. The “sandwich method” of curing, or “dry cure”, was used up until 1862 when the method of injecting strong brine into the meat by means of a pickling pump was adopted by Irish bacon-curers. 1887 saw the formation of the Bacon Curers’ Pig Improvement Association and they managed to introduce a new breed, the Large White Ulster into most regions by the turn of the century. This breed was suitable for the production of “Wiltshire” bacon. Cork, Waterford Dublin and Belfast were important centres for bacon but it was Limerick that dominated the industry and a Department of Agriculture document from 1902 suggests that the famous “Limerick cure” may have originated by chance:1880 […] Limerick producers were short of money […] they produced what was considered meat in a half-cured condition. The unintentional cure proved extremely popular and others followed suit. By the turn of the century the mild cure procedure was brought to such perfection that meat could [… be] sent to tropical climates for consumption within a reasonable time (Cowan and Sexton).Failure to modernise led to the decline of bacon production in Limerick in the 1960s and all four factories closed down. The Irish pig market was protected prior to joining the European Union. There were no imports, and exports were subsidised by the Pigs and Bacon Commission. The Department of Agriculture started pig testing in the early 1960s and imported breeds from the United Kingdom and Scandinavia. The two main breeds were Large White and Landrace. Most farms kept pigs before joining the EU but after 1972, farmers were encouraged to rationalise and specialise. Grants were made available for facilities that would keep 3,000 pigs and these grants kick started the development of large units.Pig keeping and production were not only rural occupations; Irish towns and cities also had their fair share. Pigs could easily be kept on swill from hotels, restaurants, not to mention the by-product and leftovers of the brewing and baking industries. Ed Hick, a fourth generation pork butcher from south County Dublin, recalls buying pigs from a local coal man and bus driver and other locals for whom it was a tradition to keep pigs on the side. They would keep some six or eight pigs at a time and feed them on swill collected locally. Legislation concerning the feeding of swill introduced in 1985 (S.I.153) and an amendment in 1987 (S.I.133) required all swill to be heat-treated and resulted in most small operators going out of business. Other EU directives led to the shutting down of thousands of slaughterhouses across Europe. Small producers like Hick who slaughtered at most 25 pigs a week in their family slaughterhouse, states that it was not any one rule but a series of them that forced them to close. It was not uncommon for three inspectors, a veterinarian, a meat inspector and a hygiene inspector, to supervise himself and his brother at work. Ed Hick describes the situation thus; “if we had taken them on in a game of football, we would have lost! We were seen as a huge waste of veterinary time and manpower”.Sausages and rashers have long been popular in Dublin and are the main ingredients in the city’s most famous dish “Dublin Coddle.” Coddle is similar to an Irish stew except that it uses pork rashers and sausage instead of lamb. It was, traditionally, a Saturday night dish when the men came home from the public houses. Terry Fagan has a book on Dublin Folklore called Monto: Murder, Madams and Black Coddle. The black coddle resulted from soot falling down the chimney into the cauldron. James Joyce describes Denny’s sausages with relish in Ulysses, and like many other Irish emigrants, he would welcome visitors from home only if they brought Irish sausages and Irish whiskey with them. Even today, every family has its favourite brand of sausages: Byrne’s, Olhausens, Granby’s, Hafner’s, Denny’s Gold Medal, Kearns and Superquinn are among the most popular. Ironically the same James Joyce, who put Dublin pork kidneys on the world table in Ulysses, was later to call his native Ireland “the old sow that eats her own farrow” (184-5).The last thirty years have seen a concerted effort to breed pigs that have less fat content and leaner meat. There are no pure breeds of Landrace or Large White in production today for they have been crossbred for litter size, fat content and leanness (Tuite). Many experts feel that they have become too lean, to the detriment of flavour and that the meat can tend to split when cooked. Pig production is now a complicated science and tighter margins have led to only large-scale operations being financially viable (Whittemore). The average size of herd has grown from 29 animals in 1973, to 846 animals in 1997, and the highest numbers are found in counties Cork and Cavan (Lafferty et al.). The main players in today’s pig production/processing are the large Irish Agribusiness Multinationals Glanbia, Kerry Foods and Dairygold. Tuite (2002) expressed worries among the industry that there may be no pig production in Ireland in twenty years time, with production moving to Eastern Europe where feed and labour are cheaper. When it comes to traceability, in the light of the Foot and Mouth, BSE and Dioxin scares, many feel that things were much better in the old days, when butchers like Ed Hick slaughtered animals that were reared locally and then sold them back to local consumers. Hick has recently killed pigs for friends who have begun keeping them for home consumption. This slaughtering remains legal as long as the meat is not offered for sale.Although bacon and cabbage, and the full Irish breakfast with rashers, sausages and puddings, are considered to be some of Ireland’s most well known traditional dishes, there has been a growth in modern interpretations of traditional pork and bacon dishes in the repertoires of the seemingly ever growing number of talented Irish chefs. Michael Clifford popularised Clonakilty Black Pudding as a starter in his Cork restaurant Clifford’s in the late 1980s, and its use has become widespread since, as a starter or main course often partnered with either caramelised apples or red onion marmalade. Crubeens (pigs trotters) have been modernised “a la Pierre Kaufman” by a number of Irish chefs, who bone them out and stuff them with sweetbreads. Kevin Thornton, the first Irish chef to be awarded two Michelin stars, has roasted suckling pig as one of his signature dishes. Richard Corrigan is keeping the Irish flag flying in London in his Michelin starred Soho restaurant, Lindsay House, where traditional pork and bacon dishes from his childhood are creatively re-interpreted with simplicity and taste.Pork, ham and bacon are, without doubt, the most traditional of all Irish foods, featuring in the diet since prehistoric times. Although these meats remain the most consumed per capita in post “Celtic Tiger” Ireland, there are a number of threats facing the country’s pig industry. Large-scale indoor production necessitates the use of antibiotics. European legislation and economic factors have contributed in the demise of the traditional art of pork butchery. Scientific advancements have resulted in leaner low-fat pigs, many argue, to the detriment of flavour. Alas, all is not lost. There is a growth in consumer demand for quality local food, and some producers like J. Hick & Sons, and Prue & David Rudd and Family are leading the way. The Rudds process and distribute branded antibiotic-free pig related products with the mission of “re-inventing the tastes of bygone days with the quality of modern day standards”. Few could argue with the late Irish writer John B. Keane (72): “When this kind of bacon is boiling with its old colleague, white cabbage, there is a gurgle from the pot that would tear the heart out of any hungry man”.ReferencesCowan, Cathal and Regina Sexton. Ireland's Traditional Foods: An Exploration of Irish Local & Typical Foods & Drinks. Dublin: Teagasc, 1997.C.S.O. Central Statistics Office. Figures on per capita meat consumption for 2009, 2010. Ireland. http://www.cso.ie.Fitzgerald, Oisin. "The Irish 'Greyhound' Pig: an extinct indigenous breed of Pig." History Ireland13.4 (2005): 20-23.Gantz, Jeffrey Early Irish Myths and Sagas. New York: Penguin, 1981.Harris, Marvin. "The Abominable Pig." Food and Culture: A Reader. Eds. Carole Counihan and Penny Van Esterik. New York: Routledge, 1997. 67-79.Hick, Edward. Personal Communication with master butcher Ed Hick. 15 Apr. 2002.Hick, Edward. Personal Communication concerning pig killing. 5 Sep. 2010.Jackson, K. H. Ed. Aislinge Meic Con Glinne, Dublin: Institute of Advanced Studies, 1990.Joyce, James. The Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, London: Granada, 1977.Keane, John B. Strong Tea. Cork: Mercier Press, 1963.Kinsella, Thomas. The Táin. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1970.Lafferty, S., Commins, P. and Walsh, J. A. Irish Agriculture in Transition: A Census Atlas of Agriculture in the Republic of Ireland. Dublin: Teagasc, 1999.Mac Con Iomaire, Liam. Ireland of the Proverb. Dublin: Town House, 1988.Mac Con Iomaire, Máirtín and Pádraic Óg Gallagher. "The Potato in Irish Cuisine and Culture."Journal of Culinary Science and Technology 7.2-3 (2009): 1-16.Mahon, Bríd. Land of Milk and Honey: The Story of Traditional Irish Food and Drink. Cork:Mercier, 1998.Meindertsma, Christien. PIG 05049 2007. 10 Aug. 2010 http://www.christienmeindertsma.com.Ó Conaill, Seán. Seán Ó Conaill's Book. Bailie Átha Cliath: Bhéaloideas Éireann, 1981.Sexton, Regina. A Little History of Irish Food. Dublin: Gill and Macmillan, 1998.Sharkey, Olive. Old Days Old Ways: An Illustrated Folk History of Ireland. Dublin: The O'Brien Press, 1985.S.I. 153, 1985 (Irish Legislation) http://www.irishstatutebook.ie/1985/en/si/0153.htmlS.I. 133, 1987 (Irish Legislation) http://www.irishstatuebook.ie/1987/en/si/0133.htmlTuite, Pat. Personal Communication with Pat Tuite, Chief Pig Advisor, Teagasc. 3 May 2002.Whittemore, Colin T. and Ilias Kyriazakis. Whitmore's Science and Practice of Pig Production 3rdEdition. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2006.

Precious metals are to mercantile capitalism what paper is to industrial capitalism and what plastic and electronics are to post-industrial capitalism—which is to say, the different materials and their specific textual forms become the dominant, if not always preferred, means of transferring and storing value or wealth in their respective capitalist phases. As a distinct “text,” what separates the precious metals from the materials that follow them is that they are seen as “natural money.” In Capital, for example, Karl Marx endorses Galiani’s view that “although gold and silver are not by Nature money, money is by Nature gold and silver”(92-3). Common enough even among contemporary economists, this view relies upon a conception of “Nature” and money that paper began to unsettle and that the new forms of plastic and electronic money altogether erase. Thus Marshall McLuhan early on proclaimed that the new electronic technologies put “the very concept of money [ . . . ] in jeopardy . . .” (138-9). Even if this is in part true—and I think it is—how does one explain the current proliferation of money thanks to plastic cards and electronic money? Georg Simmel, in his monumental The Philosophy of Money, provides one possible answer. Discussing the war between Spain and the Netherlands, Simmel generalizes “ . . . and one might say paradoxically that, the more it is really money in its essential significance, the less need there is for it to be money in a material sense”(171). Plastic and electronic technologies, far from threatening the “very concept of money,” have worked to free the “essential significance” of money from its previous material forms. Certain forms of money may indeed be in jeopardy but, precisely because of this, the concept of money is all the more necessary to the ideological harmony of post-industrial capitalism. It would even be going too far to say that the new plastic and electronic forms of exchange threaten the aura of money. Instead, it is more advantageous to see these differing materials and their textual forms as representing competing mythologies. As a starting point, consider the de a ocho reales (pieces-of-eight) often referred to as the Spanish or pillar dollar. Minted from silver that came from the Spanish Empire’s silver mines in the New World, it represents the peak of mercantile capitalism. On its obverse side is the image of two worlds between two columns, representing the Pillars of Hercules. Winding around the columns is a banner with the inscription “plus ultra” (more beyond). On one level, this promise was frighteningly true—estimates range from a staggering 145,000 to 165,000 tons of silver extracted from the New World by Europeans (Weatherford 100). And yet, the promise of infinite wealth is belied, ultimately, by the finite nature of the material being used to fashion this text. In contrast, consider the inscription found on the first coin minted in 1787 by the newly established United States of America. The one-cent copper coin bears the motto “Fugio MIND YOUR BUSINESS” and shows the sun above a sundial. The references to time (fugio or I fly) are clearly indebted to the axiom “time is money”, which comes from a founding father of the new nation, Benjamin Franklin, who, perhaps more than any other, lived out and popularized its revolutionary ideology. “Mind your business” is equally Franklinesque and equally expressive of the spirit necessary for the emergence of industrial capitalism. Nonetheless, the coin’s advice, like the Spanish dollar’s promise, contains its own instability. The relatively congenial warning that wasting your time will cost you money is undercut by the pugnacious double entendre contained in “mind your business”, which can also mean stay out of other people’s affairs. The double meaning of “mind your business” encapsulates a rationalist utopia of individual citizens who serve the common good simply by tending to their own gardens or minding their own businesses. In less than seventy-five years, America’s Civil War violently exposed the internal contradictions of such an aspiration. Switching the motto of the Spanish silver dollar with that of the American copper penny results in a jarring confusion that illustrates the ideological divide between mercantile and industrial capital that the two coins represent. The Spanish dollar promises infinite wealth based upon trade, an individual’s appetite for “more,” and access to scarce commodities (gold and silver). The American penny promises endless work based upon production, self-interest, and access to cheap commodities, such as copper. This American work ethic fueled a pathological amassing of wealth that is similar to and yet distinct from the mercantile period preceding it. The differences and similarities are like those that Marx finds between the miser and the capitalist: “This boundless greed after riches, this passionate chase after exchange-value, is common to the capitalist and the miser; but while the miser is merely a capitalist gone mad, the capitalist is a rational miser”(151). Adapting Marx’s comparison, then, it would be more accurate to say the mercantile capitalist is an unfinished capitalist, distracted from his purpose by the maddening allure of the miser’s horde. While the industrial capitalist, on the other hand, may be the truer capitalist, he is still a miser, albeit a rational one. If capitalists are going to realize their full potential as “rational misers” the history of America shows they can only achieve this with a medium of exchange that is cheaper, more accessible, and more disposable than copper or any other metal. Through paper currency, America not only financed its revolution, making it the first nation in the history of the world to do so, it also financed its westward expansion, the North’s victory in the Civil War, and it unleashed the productive capacities necessary for an industrial revolution that would surpass its European rivals. The design found on America’s modern one-dollar bill—which except for minor changes has remained the same since 1935—reveals a textual indeterminacy, like that found in the Spanish dollar and America’s revolutionary copper penny. The first aspect of its indeterminacy is in the nature of all paper currencies. Their cheap materials, relatively easy production, and fiat value make them attractive to counterfeiters as well as governments. To a degree unmatched by coins, paper money’s text is driven by anxieties over counterfeiting. For example, the signatures of the U.S. Treasurer and Secretary of the Treasury on the front of America’s paper currency are motivated in part by this anxiety. But the signing of an official’s name holds a deeper significance, one that separates paper currency from metal. Paper currency seems to call for a signature the way metal coins call for heads in profile. Metal coins, even when machine made, still evoke the artisan and his mode of production—circumscribed, organic, and coherent. The very real artisanship that goes into paper currency is lost in a surreal sea of printed signs—open, fragmented, and dreamlike. The signature, although mechanically reproduced, leaves the trace of a human hand and the individual to which it belongs. In a world where exchange value is created by artificial means that are essentially limitless, the signature is a reassuring reminder of human limits and authority. A different sort of tension is on the back of the dollar bill. Here the front and back of the Great Seal of the United States are on either side of a “ONE” in large letters at the center of the rectangular design. The contraries contained in the Great Seal—war and peace represented by the olive branch and arrows the eagle holds in its talons and the material and the spiritual aspects of life represented by the unfinished pyramid and the eye of the Deity that shines above it—draw the viewer into a web of triangular sight lines. The back of the Seal encircles an apparent triangle formed by the pyramid and the eye above it. The encircled triangle in the Seal’s front is subtler. It is made by the number thirteen which appears in the thirteen stars above the eagle’s head and the thirteen olive leaves and arrows held in the eagle’s talons. This triangular symmetry is reinforced by the four numeral 1s with “one” written across them that appear one in each corner of the bill’s design. These 1s create bisecting diagonal sight lines that connect with and pass through the “ONE” at the center of the rectangle, thereby cutting the rectangle into four symmetrical triangles. At the very least, all this (in)visible triangular symmetry could be called overdetermined—an excessive attempt to impress order on a chaotic world and to naturalize the text’s claim as “legal tender.” If, as Simmel maintains, “all money is credit” (Ingham 24), then by one line of reasoning, it would be easy for credit cards to acknowledge this truth. Instead, like the other monetary forms we have examined, their texts work to obfuscate the social character of exchange value and naturalize or mythologize their authority. Like paper money’s connection to the printing press, credit cards are also connected to a revolutionary technology, the petroleum industry. It is fitting that credit cards are made of plastic, a by-product of oil refineries, since they originated in the 1930s as a convenience to drivers provided by the major oil companies. Even as different businesses extended the use of credit cards, they have retained their early association with the world of travel and the pleasures of mobility—both physical and social. With the company’s origin in the travel business, the American Express credit card is uniquely positioned to exploit the pleasures of mobility, and the history of its credit card designs helps to illustrate some of the ideological shifting required of post-industrial capitalism. As Jack Weatherford points out in his History of Money, American Express made effective use of a card class system. Starting in 1958 with their purple card, the color of royalty, they sought to attract consumers with a feeling of exclusivity. Some years later, they switched to the famous green card, the color of American money. In 1966, they added the distinction of the gold card for elite members. As the numbers of gold card members swelled, they sought further distinctions, such as the black card that was quickly replaced by the platinum card (229). A striking aspect of these textual permutations, given the focus of this paper, is the credit company’s reliance on the security of older monetary forms, such as precious metals and American paper currency, to attract consumers. Now that credit cards rule supreme, it is hard to recall consumers’ earlier antipathy towards them. In 1971, after credit cards were well established, one study found that almost one-third of the families interviewed thought it was “bad business to use credit cards,” and even among credit card users, nearly one-fifth felt it was “bad” (Moore and Russell 78). In contrast, the design of the latest card by American Express, its blue card, boldly proclaims the apotheosis of credit—a blue hologram suspended in transparent plastic. Here is the ultimate medium: a transparency that promises to take its possessor at the speed of light into the depths of hyperspace. Beneath these specific historical texts, lies a deeper and more general ontological association between plastic and movement, which Roland Barthes uncovers in his ruminations upon the substance in Mythologies. In its protean ability to imitate life, plastic is “less a thing than the trace of a movement”(97). And Barthes maintains our new plastic mobility revolutionizes our relationship to life itself. The finite character of metal and paper for storing and transferring wealth were always more or less apparent. Precious metals were limited by the natural laws of scarcity—first come, first served. Paper promised a world of infinite wealth, but it always threatened to hyperinflate, collapsing into worthless piles. Sometimes implicitly or sometimes explicitly, paper still relied on nature’s scarcity in order to justify its claim to value. Plastic needs no such justification. As Barthes puts it, with plastic, “the hierarchy of substances is abolished: a single one replaces them all: the whole world can be plasticized . . .”(99). In a plastic world, there are no limits on what or how much we can produce. And in such a world, only an abstract and infinite medium of exchange, such as credit, can promise to return our alienated labor to us through the plasticized commodities it purchases. Works Cited Barthes, Roland. Mythologies. Trans. Anette Lavers. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1990. Ingham, Geoffry. “’Babylonian Madness’: On the Historical and Sociological Origins of Money.” What Is Money? Ed. John Smithin. London: Routledge, 2000. 16-41. Marx, Karl. Capital Volume One. Ed. Frederick Engels. New York: International, 1987. McLuhan, Marshall. Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1995. Moore, Carl H. and Alvin E. Russell. Money: Its Origin, Development and Modern Use. Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 1987. Simmel, Georg. The Philosophy of Money. Ed. David Frisby. Trans. Tom Bottomore and David Frisby. New York: Routledge, 1990. Weatherford, Jack. The History of Money. New York: Crown, 1997. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Rizzo, Sergio. "'Show Me the Money!'" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture <http://www.media-culture.org.au/0401/09-rizzo.php>. APA Style Rizzo, S. (2004, Jan 12). 'Show Me the Money!'. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture, 7, <http://www.media-culture.org.au/0401/09-rizzo.php>

For Socrates the act of communication is grounded in the world of original forms, archetypes, or abstract ideas. These ideas exist independently of the human mind and reflect a reality that is truer than the world of everyday experience. The task of the speaker is to draw the listener closer to the truth of these ideas, and this requires an intimate coupling of the form of speech to the character of the listener. In Phaedrus, Socrates explains, ". . . a would-be speaker must know how many types of soul there are. The number is finite, and they account for a variety of individual characters. When these are determined one must enumerate the various types of speech, a finite number also." The types of soul must then be carefully paired with the types of speech. This theoretical knowledge by itself, however, is not sufficient. A speaker must also know when ". . . he has actually before him a specific example of a type which he has heard described, and that this is what he must say and this is how he must say it if he wants to influence his hearer in this particular way" (Plato 91-92). Thus, the aspiring speaker must sharpen his powers of observation. Exactly how a speaker goes about discerning the various types of souls in his audience is not discussed in Phaedrus, but one assumes it is by mastering the art of face reading, or physiognomy. The science of physiognomy was of particular importance to the ancient Greeks. Nearly all the well-known Greek writers had something to say about the subject. Pythagoras is claimed to be the first Greek to formalize it systematically as a science. Hippocrates wrote voluminously on the subject, as did Aristotle. Socrates not only recommended physiognomy to his students (Tytler) but he is also reported to have demonstrated his facility with the science at least twice: once in predicting the promotion of Alcibiades and once upon first meeting Plato, whom he immediately recognized as a man of considerable philosophical talent (Encyclopedia Britannica). Writing is inferior to speech, Socrates tells Phaedrus, precisely because it cannot see and adapt the message to the reader. Like a painting of an object, writing is merely the image of dissociated speech. What is missing in writing-and what writing seems ever intent on reconstructing-is the human face. Pressing Faces Behind the Typeface Although physiognomy was banned by the Church, as it was associated with paganism and devil worship (practitioners of the science were burnt at the stake), it was revived in the Renaissance and became an obsession with the advent of the printing press. The printing press heralds democracy. But as human rights grew, urban centers developed, and new professions and classes emerged, people were no longer able to divine their own destiny or to predict the behavior and destiny of others. It became imperative to find other more reliable means of identifying the good and the bad, the talented and the unremarkable. Two books were considered indispensable: the Bible and Lavater's Essays on Physiognomy (Juengel). Physiognomy was the science that helped people decipher class and profession. It became the spelling book of character, one that people diligently studied so that they could learn to read not only the marks of character in others but also the signs of talent and potential in their own faces and in the faces of their children. Face reading was egalitarian and leveling (Juengel). The heads of state could be read and debunked in the flourishing art of caricature, and people delighted in decoding the physiognomy of the ordinary faces that crowded the pages of the popular press. The populace applauded the artists that succeeded in revealing the whole spectrum of a character-class, intentions, profession-in the masterly strokes of the pen (Wechsler). Unfortunately, so intense was the interest in face reading that many people were forced to cover their faces when out in public (Zebrowitz). Inside the religious, medical, educational, and criminal justice institutions, authorities scanned faces to identify the virtuous and the vile. People were hanged because of the shape of their jaws ("A physiognomic auto-da-fé,") and sometimes convicted of crimes because of an unfortunate physiognomy, even before any crimes were committed (Lichtenberg. 93). Mass Consumption of the Face Open a magazine. What do you see? I counted over 200 faces in the September 15, 2003 issue of Newsweek, 120 faces in the September 29, 2003 issue of Forbes, 124 faces in the September 15, 2003 issue of Time, and 37 faces in the November, 2003 issue of Handgunner (I included the masked faces). Whereas, in the 19th century, face reading was used by the religious, medical, and criminal justice authorities to identify a person's character, in the modern world face reading becomes face righting. Early in the century, people came to be viewed less as individuals than as masses that were dynamically statistical with fluctuations of opinions and tastes that could be sampled and manipulated. It quickly became apparent to the behemoth advertising industry that was erected with the advent of mass media that product designs and packages could be collated with viewer reactions. The audience is scrutinized, labeled, and targeted. What people are fed are fleshless images of themselves. Horkheimer and Adorno have observed that the media have reduced the individual to the stereotype. Stereotypes package people, typically in unflattering boxes. Mediated faces are used to mirror, to prime, and to manipulate the audience (Kress and van Leeuwen). On television and in print, images of canned faces proliferate. Not all stereotypes are unsavory. Nothing recommends itself nor sells like a beautiful face, but even beautiful faces must be retouched, even recomposed from features extracted from databases of perfect facial features. So important is the image of the face that media icons routinely visit the plastic surgeon. Michael Jackson is the most extreme example of what has been derogatorily termed a "scalpel slave." Plastic surgery is not exclusive to celebrities; countless millions of ordinary Americans feel compelled to undergo various cosmetic surgeries. The 20th-century consumption of the face has ended by consuming the face. Facing the Face Interface Text has made a comeback in hypertext. Empowered by the hyperlink, readers have become writers as they assemble texts with the clicks of a mouse (Landow). Electronic texts are pushed as well as pulled. Businesses have learned to track and to query users, building individual profiles that are then used to assemble personalized pages and email messages. Socrates' objection that writing is unable to perceive the reader no longer holds. The virtual text is watching you. And it is watching you with virtual eyes. There is a growing interest in developing face interfaces that are capable of perceiving and talking. The technical requirements are enormous. Face interfaces must learn to make eye contact, follow speaking faces with their eyes, mirror emotion, lip synch, and periodically nod, raise eyebrows, and tilt the head (Massaro). Face interfaces are also learning to write faces, to map rhetorical forms to the character of their interlocutors in ways Socrates could not have imagined. Socrates did not teach his students to consider the rhetorical effects of their faces: the speaker's face was thought to be fixed, a true reflection of the inner soul. Virtual faces are not so constrained. Smart faces are being developed that are capable of rendering their own appearances from within a statistical model of the users' impressions of faces. The goal is for these virtual faces to learn to design, through their interactions with users, facial appearances that are calibrated to elicit very specific impressions and reactions in others (Brahnam). Some people will disapprove of virtual faces. Just as the media use faces to manipulate the viewer and perpetuate facial stereotypes, smart faces run the risk of doing the same. Some may also worry that virtual faces will be attributed more intelligence and social capacity then they actually possess. Do we really want our children growing up talking to virtual faces? Can they satisfy our need for human contact? What does it mean to converse with a virtual face? What kind of conversation is that? For the present at least, virtual faces are more like the orators and bards of old. They merely repeat the speeches of others. Their own speech is nearly incomprehensible, and their grammatical hiccups annoyingly disrupt the suspension of disbelief. On their own, without the human in the loop, no one believes them. Thus, the virtual face appears on the screen, silently nodding and smiling. Not yet a proper student of classical rhetoric, it is much like the virtual guide at artificial-life.com that recently greeted her visitors wearing the following placard: A virtual guide that greeted visitors at artificial-life.com. Access date: October 2003. Works Cited Brahnam, Sheryl. "Agents as Artists: Automating Socially Intelligent Embodiment," Proceedings of the First International Workshop on the Philosophy & Design of Socially Adept Technologies, in conjunction with CHI 2002. Minneapolis, MN, 2002: 15-18. Encyclopedia Britannica. "Physiognomy." LoveToKnow Free Online Encyclopedia, 1911. Available: http://21.1911encyclopedia.org Horkheimer, Max, and Theodor W. Adorno. Dialectic of Enlightenment. Trans. John Cumming. New York: Seabury, 1944. Juengel, Scott Jordan. "About Face: Physiognomics, Revolution, and the Radical Act of Looking." Ph.D. dissertation. University of Iowa, 1997. Kress, Gunther, and Theo van Leeuwen. Reading Images: The Grammar of Visual Design. London: Routledge, 1996. Landow, P. George. Hypertext 2.0: The Convergence of Contemporary Critical Theory and Technology. Baltimore: John Hopkins U P, 1997. Lavater, Johann Caspar. Essays on Physiognomy: For the Promotion of the Knowledge and the Love of Mankind. Trans. Thomas Holcroft. London: printed by C. Whittingham for H. D. Symonds, 1804. Lichtenberg. Quoted in Frey, Siegfried. "Lavater, Lichtenberg, and the Suggestive Power of the Human Face." The Faces of Physiognomy: Interdisciplinary Approaches to Johann Caspar Lavater. Ed. Ellis Shookman. Studies in German Literature, Linguistics, and Culture. Columbia, S.C.: Camden House, 1993. 64-103. Massaro, D. M. Perceiving Talking Faces: From Speech Perception to a Behavioral Principle. Cambridge, MA: MIT P, 1997. Plato. Phaedrus and the Seventh and Eighth Letters. Trans. Walter Hamilton. London: Penguin, 1973. Tytler, Graeme. Physiognomy in the European Novel: Faces and Fortunes. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton U P, 1982. Wechsler, Judith. A Human Comedy: Physiognomy and Caricature in 19th Century Paris. London: U of Chicago P, 1982. Zebrowitz, Leslie A. Reading Faces: Window to the Soul? Boulder, Col.: Westview, 1998. Web Links http://vhost.oddcast.com/vhost_minisite/ http://mrl.nyu.edu/~perlin/facedemo/ http://www.faceinterfaces.com http://www.artificial-life.com Citation reference for this article MLA Style Brahnam, Sheryl. "Type/Face" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture <http://www.media-culture.org.au/0401/04-brahnam.php>. APA Style Brahnam, S. (2004, Jan 12). Type/Face. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture, 7, <http://www.media-culture.org.au/0401/04-brahnam.php>

This article investigates the possibilities for understanding waste as a resource, with a particular focus on understanding food waste as a food resource. It considers the popular yeast spread Vegemite within this frame. The spread’s origins in waste product, and how it has achieved and sustained its status as a popular symbol of Australia despite half a century of Australian gastro-multiculturalism and a marked public resistance to other recycling and reuse of food products, have not yet been a focus of study. The process of producing Vegemite from waste would seem to align with contemporary moves towards recycling food waste, and ensuring environmental sustainability and food security, yet even during times of austerity and environmental concern this has not provided the company with a viable marketing strategy. Instead, advertising copywriting and a recurrent cycle of product memorialisation have created a superbrand through focusing on Vegemite’s nutrient and nostalgic value.John Scanlan notes that producing waste is a core feature of modern life, and what we dispose of as surplus to our requirements—whether this comprises material objects or more abstract products such as knowledge—reveals much about our society. In observing this, Scanlan asks us to consider the quite radical idea that waste is central to everything of significance to us: the “possibility that the surprising core of all we value results from (and creates even more) garbage (both the material and the metaphorical)” (9). Others have noted the ambivalent relationship we have with the waste we produce. C. T. Anderson notes that we are both creator and agent of its disposal. It is our ambivalence towards waste, coupled with its ubiquity, that allows waste materials to be described so variously: negatively as garbage, trash and rubbish, or more positively as by-products, leftovers, offcuts, trimmings, and recycled.This ambivalence is also crucial to understanding the affectionate relationship the Australian public have with Vegemite, a relationship that appears to exist in spite of the product’s unpalatable origins in waste. A study of Vegemite reveals that consumers can be comfortable with waste, even to the point of eating recycled waste, as long as that fact remains hidden and unmentioned. In Vegemite’s case not only has the product’s connection to waste been rendered invisible, it has been largely kept out of sight despite considerable media and other attention focusing on the product. Recycling Food Waste into Food ProductRecent work such as Elizabeth Royte’s Garbage Land and Tristram Stuart’s Waste make waste uncomfortably visible, outlining how much waste, and food waste in particular, the Western world generates and how profligately this is disposed of. Their aim is clear: a call to less extravagant and more sustainable practices. The relatively recent interest in reducing our food waste has, of course, introduced more complexity into a simple linear movement from the creation of a food product, to its acquisition or purchase, and then to its consumption and/or its disposal. Moreover, the recycling, reuse and repurposing of what has previously been discarded as waste is reconfiguring the whole idea of what waste is, as well as what value it has. The initiatives that seem to offer the most promise are those that reconfigure the way waste is understood. However, it is not only the process of transforming waste from an abject nuisance into a valued product that is central here. It is also necessary to reconfigure people’s acculturated perceptions of, and reactions to waste. Food waste is generated during all stages of the food cycle: while the raw materials are being grown; while these are being processed; when the resulting food products are being sold; when they are prepared in the home or other kitchen; and when they are only partly consumed. Until recently, the food industry in the West almost universally produced large volumes of solid and liquid waste that not only posed problems of disposal and pollution for the companies involved, but also represented a reckless squandering of total food resources in terms of both nutrient content and valuable biomass for society at large. While this is currently changing, albeit slowly, the by-products of food processing were, and often are, dumped (Stuart). In best-case scenarios, various gardening, farming and industrial processes gather household and commercial food waste for use as animal feed or as components in fertilisers (Delgado et al; Wang et al). This might, on the surface, appear a responsible application of waste, yet the reality is that such food waste often includes perfectly good fruit and vegetables that are not quite the required size, shape or colour, meat trimmings and products (such as offal) that are completely edible but extraneous to processing need, and other high grade product that does not meet certain specifications—such as the mountains of bread crusts sandwich producers discard (Hickman), or food that is still edible but past its ‘sell by date.’ In the last few years, however, mounting public awareness over the issues of world hunger, resource conservation, and the environmental and economic costs associated with food waste has accelerated efforts to make sustainable use of available food supplies and to more efficiently recycle, recover and utilise such needlessly wasted food product. This has fed into and led to multiple new policies, instances of research into, and resultant methods for waste handling and treatment (Laufenberg et al). Most straightforwardly, this involves the use or sale of offcuts, trimmings and unwanted ingredients that are “often of prime quality and are only rejected from the production line as a result of standardisation requirements or retailer specification” from one process for use in another, in such processed foods as soups, baby food or fast food products (Henningsson et al. 505). At a higher level, such recycling seeks to reclaim any reusable substances of significant food value from what could otherwise be thought of as a non-usable waste product. Enacting this is largely dependent on two elements: an available technology and being able to obtain a price or other value for the resultant product that makes the process worthwhile for the recycler to engage in it (Laufenberg et al). An example of the latter is the use of dehydrated restaurant food waste as a feedstuff for finishing pigs, a reuse process with added value for all involved as this process produces both a nutritious food substance as well as a viable way of disposing of restaurant waste (Myer et al). In Japan, laws regarding food waste recycling, which are separate from those governing other organic waste, are ensuring that at least some of food waste is being converted into animal feed, especially for the pigs who are destined for human tables (Stuart). Other recycling/reuse is more complex and involves more lateral thinking, with the by-products from some food processing able to be utilised, for instance, in the production of dyes, toiletries and cosmetics (Henningsson et al), although many argue for the privileging of food production in the recycling of foodstuffs.Brewing is one such process that has been in the reuse spotlight recently as large companies seek to minimise their waste product so as to be able to market their processes as sustainable. In 2009, for example, the giant Foster’s Group (with over 150 brands of beer, wine, spirits and ciders) proudly claimed that it recycled or reused some 91.23% of 171,000 tonnes of operational waste, with only 8.77% of this going to landfill (Foster’s Group). The treatment and recycling of the massive amounts of water used for brewing, rinsing and cooling purposes (Braeken et al.; Fillaudeaua et al.) is of significant interest, and is leading to research into areas as diverse as the development microbial fuel cells—where added bacteria consume the water-soluble brewing wastes, thereby cleaning the water as well as releasing chemical energy that is then converted into electricity (Lagan)—to using nutrient-rich wastewater as the carbon source for creating bioplastics (Yu et al.).In order for the waste-recycling-reuse loop to be closed in the best way for securing food supplies, any new product salvaged and created from food waste has to be both usable, and used, as food (Stuart)—and preferably as a food source for people to consume. There is, however, considerable consumer resistance to such reuse. Resistance to reusing recycled water in Australia has been documented by the CSIRO, which identified negative consumer perception as one of the two primary impediments to water reuse, the other being the fundamental economics of the process (MacDonald & Dyack). This consumer aversion operates even in times of severe water shortages, and despite proof of the cleanliness and safety of the resulting treated water. There was higher consumer acceptance levels for using stormwater rather than recycled water, despite the treated stormwater being shown to have higher concentrations of contaminants (MacDonald & Dyack). This reveals the extent of public resistance to the potential consumption of recycled waste product when it is labelled as such, even when this consumption appears to benefit that public. Vegemite: From Waste Product to Australian IconIn this context, the savoury yeast spread Vegemite provides an example of how food processing waste can be repurposed into a new food product that can gain a high level of consumer acceptability. It has been able to retain this status despite half a century of Australian gastronomic multiculturalism and the wide embrace of a much broader range of foodstuffs. Indeed, Vegemite is so ubiquitous in Australian foodways that it is recognised as an international superbrand, a standing it has been able to maintain despite most consumers from outside Australasia finding it unpalatable (Rozin & Siegal). However, Vegemite’s long product history is one in which its origin as recycled waste has been omitted, or at the very least, consistently marginalised.Vegemite’s history as a consumer product is narrated in a number of accounts, including one on the Kraft website, where the apocryphal and actual blend. What all these narratives agree on is that in the early 1920s Fred Walker—of Fred Walker and Company, Melbourne, canners of meat for export and Australian manufacturers of Bonox branded beef stock beverage—asked his company chemist to emulate Marmite yeast extract (Farrer). The imitation product was based, as was Marmite, on the residue from spent brewer’s yeast. This waste was initially sourced from Melbourne-based Carlton & United Breweries, and flavoured with vegetables, spices and salt (Creswell & Trenoweth). Today, the yeast left after Foster Group’s Australian commercial beer making processes is collected, put through a sieve to remove hop resins, washed to remove any bitterness, then mixed with warm water. The yeast dies from the lack of nutrients in this environment, and enzymes then break down the yeast proteins with the effect that vitamins and minerals are released into the resulting solution. Using centrifugal force, the yeast cell walls are removed, leaving behind a nutrient-rich brown liquid, which is then concentrated into a dark, thick paste using a vacuum process. This is seasoned with significant amounts of salt—although less today than before—and flavoured with vegetable extracts (Richardson).Given its popularity—Vegemite was found in 2009 to be the third most popular brand in Australia (Brand Asset Consulting)—it is unsurprising to find that the product has a significant history as an object of study in popular culture (Fiske et al; White), as a marker of national identity (Ivory; Renne; Rozin & Siegal; Richardson; Harper & White) and as an iconic Australian food, brand and product (Cozzolino; Luck; Khamis; Symons). Jars, packaging and product advertising are collected by Australian institutions such as Sydney’s Powerhouse Museum and the National Museum of Australia in Canberra, and are regularly included in permanent and travelling exhibitions profiling Australian brands and investigating how a sense of national identity is expressed through identification with these brands. All of this significant study largely focuses on how, when and by whom the product has been taken up, and how it has been consumed, rather than its links to waste, and what this circumstance could add to current thinking about recycling of food waste into other food products.It is worth noting that Vegemite was not an initial success in the Australian marketplace, but this does not seem due to an adverse public perception to waste. Indeed, when it was first produced it was in imitation of an already popular product well-known to be made from brewery by-products, hence this origin was not an issue. It was also introduced during a time when consumer relationships to waste were quite unlike today, and thrifty re-use of was a common feature of household behaviour. Despite a national competition mounted to name the product (Richardson), Marmite continued to attract more purchasers after Vegemite’s launch in 1923, so much so that in 1928, in an attempt to differentiate itself from Marmite, Vegemite was renamed “Parwill—the all Australian product” (punning on the idea that “Ma-might” but “Pa-will”) (White 16). When this campaign was unsuccessful, the original, consumer-suggested name was reinstated, but sales still lagged behind its UK-owned prototype. It was only after remaining in production for more than a decade, and after two successful marketing campaigns in the second half of the 1930s that the Vegemite brand gained some market traction. The first of these was in 1935 and 1936, when a free jar of Vegemite was offered with every sale of an item from the relatively extensive Kraft-Walker product list (after Walker’s company merged with Kraft) (White). The second was an attention-grabbing contest held in 1937, which invited consumers to compose Vegemite-inspired limericks. However, it was not the nature of the product itself or even the task set by the competition which captured mass attention, but the prize of a desirable, exotic and valuable imported Pontiac car (Richardson 61; Superbrands).Since that time, multinational media company, J Walter Thompson (now rebranded as JWT) has continued to manage Vegemite’s marketing. JWT’s marketing has never looked to Vegemite’s status as a thrifty recycler of waste as a viable marketing strategy, even in periods of austerity (such as the Depression years and the Second World War) or in more recent times of environmental concern. Instead, advertising copywriting and a recurrent cycle of cultural/media memorialisation have created a superbrand by focusing on two factors: its nutrient value and, as the brand became more established, its status as national icon. Throughout the regular noting and celebration of anniversaries of its initial invention and launch, with various commemorative events and products marking each of these product ‘birthdays,’ Vegemite’s status as recycled waste product has never been more than mentioned. Even when its 60th anniversary was marked in 1983 with the laying of a permanent plaque in Kerferd Road, South Melbourne, opposite Walker’s original factory, there was only the most passing reference to how, and from what, the product manufactured at the site was made. This remained the case when the site itself was prioritised for heritage listing almost twenty years later in 2001 (City of Port Phillip).Shying away from the reality of this successful example of recycling food waste into food was still the case in 1990, when Kraft Foods held a nationwide public campaign to recover past styles of Vegemite containers and packaging, and then donated their collection to Powerhouse Museum. The Powerhouse then held an exhibition of the receptacles and the historical promotional material in 1991, tracing the development of the product’s presentation (Powerhouse Museum), an occasion that dovetailed with other nostalgic commemorative activities around the product’s 70th birthday. Although the production process was noted in the exhibition, it is noteworthy that the possibilities for recycling a number of the styles of jars, as either containers with reusable lids or as drinking glasses, were given considerably more notice than the product’s origins as a recycled product. By this time, it seems, Vegemite had become so incorporated into Australian popular memory as a product in its own right, and with such a rich nostalgic history, that its origins were no longer of any significant interest or relevance.This disregard continued in the commemorative volume, The Vegemite Cookbook. With some ninety recipes and recipe ideas, the collection contains an almost unimaginably wide range of ways to use Vegemite as an ingredient. There are recipes on how to make the definitive Vegemite toast soldiers and Vegemite crumpets, as well as adaptations of foreign cuisines including pastas and risottos, stroganoffs, tacos, chilli con carne, frijole dip, marinated beef “souvlaki style,” “Indian-style” chicken wings, curries, Asian stir-fries, Indonesian gado-gado and a number of Chinese inspired dishes. Although the cookbook includes a timeline of product history illustrated with images from the major advertising campaigns that runs across 30 pages of the book, this timeline history emphasises the technological achievement of Vegemite’s creation, as opposed to the matter from which it orginated: “In a Spartan room in Albert Park Melbourne, 20 year-old food technologist Cyril P. Callister employed by Fred Walker, conducted initial experiments with yeast. His workplace was neither kitchen nor laboratory. … It was not long before this rather ordinary room yielded an extra-ordinary substance” (2). The Big Vegemite Party Book, described on its cover as “a great book for the Vegemite fan … with lots of old advertisements from magazines and newspapers,” is even more openly nostalgic, but similarly includes very little regarding Vegemite’s obviously potentially unpalatable genesis in waste.Such commemorations have continued into the new century, each one becoming more self-referential and more obviously a marketing strategy. In 2003, Vegemite celebrated its 80th birthday with the launch of the “Spread the Smile” campaign, seeking to record the childhood reminisces of adults who loved Vegemite. After this, the commemorative anniversaries broke free from even the date of its original invention and launch, and began to celebrate other major dates in the product’s life. In this way, Kraft made major news headlines when it announced that it was trying to locate the children who featured in the 1954 “Happy little Vegemites” campaign as part of the company’s celebrations of the 50th anniversary of the television advertisement. In October 2006, these once child actors joined a number of past and current Kraft employees to celebrate the supposed production of the one-billionth jar of Vegemite (Rood, "Vegemite Spreads" & "Vegemite Toasts") but, once again, little about the actual production process was discussed. In 2007, the then iconic marching band image was resituated into a contemporary setting—presumably to mobilise both the original messages (nutritious wholesomeness in an Australian domestic context) as well as its heritage appeal. Despite the real interest at this time in recycling and waste reduction, the silence over Vegemite’s status as recycled, repurposed food waste product continued.Concluding Remarks: Towards Considering Waste as a ResourceIn most parts of the Western world, including Australia, food waste is formally (in policy) and informally (by consumers) classified, disposed of, or otherwise treated alongside garden waste and other organic materials. Disposal by individuals, industry or local governments includes a range of options, from dumping to composting or breaking down in anaerobic digestion systems into materials for fertiliser, with food waste given no special status or priority. Despite current concerns regarding the security of food supplies in the West and decades of recognising that there are sections of all societies where people do not have enough to eat, it seems that recycling food waste into food that people can consume remains one of the last and least palatable solutions to these problems. This brief study of Vegemite has attempted to show how, despite the growing interest in recycling and sustainability, the focus in both the marketing of, and public interest in, this iconic and popular product appears to remain rooted in Vegemite’s nutrient and nostalgic value and its status as a brand, and firmly away from any suggestion of innovative and prudent reuse of waste product. That this is so for an already popular product suggests that any initiatives that wish to move in this direction must first reconfigure not only the way waste itself is seen—as a valuable product to be used, rather than as a troublesome nuisance to be disposed of—but also our own understandings of, and reactions to, waste itself.Acknowledgements Many thanks to the reviewers for their perceptive, useful, and generous comments on this article. All errors are, of course, my own. The research for this work was carried out with funding from the Faculty of Arts, Business, Informatics and Education, CQUniversity, Australia.ReferencesAnderson, C. T. “Sacred Waste: Ecology, Spirit, and the American Garbage Poem.” Interdisciplinary Studies in Literature and Environment 17 (2010): 35-60.Blake, J. The Vegemite Cookbook: Delicious Recipe Ideas. Melbourne: Ark Publishing, 1992.Braeken, L., B. Van der Bruggen and C. 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Introduction With a deluge of mouthwatering pre-publicity, the opening of The Spotted Pig, the USA’s first self-identified British-styled gastropub, in Manhattan in February 2004 was much anticipated. The late Australian chef, food writer and restauranteur Mietta O’Donnell has noted how “taking over a building or business which has a long established reputation can be a mixed blessing” because of the way that memories “can enrich the experience of being in a place or they can just make people nostalgic”. Bistro Le Zoo, the previous eatery on the site, had been very popular when it opened almost a decade earlier, and its closure was mourned by some diners (Young; Kaminsky “Feeding Time”; Steinhauer & McGinty). This regret did not, however, appear to affect The Spotted Pig’s success. As esteemed New York Times reviewer Frank Bruni noted in his 2006 review: “Almost immediately after it opened […] the throngs started to descend, and they have never stopped”. The following year, The Spotted Pig was awarded a Michelin star—the first year that Michelin ranked New York—and has kept this star in the subsequent annual rankings. Writing Restaurant Biography Detailed studies have been published of almost every type of contemporary organisation including public institutions such as schools, hospitals, museums and universities, as well as non-profit organisations such as charities and professional associations. These are often written to mark a major milestone, or some significant change, development or the demise of the organisation under consideration (Brien). Detailed studies have also recently been published of businesses as diverse as general stores (Woody), art galleries (Fossi), fashion labels (Koda et al.), record stores (Southern & Branson), airlines (Byrnes; Jones), confectionary companies (Chinn) and builders (Garden). In terms of attracting mainstream readerships, however, few such studies seem able to capture popular reader interest as those about eating establishments including restaurants and cafés. This form of restaurant life history is, moreover, not restricted to ‘quality’ establishments. Fast food restaurant chains have attracted their share of studies (see, for example Love; Jakle & Sculle), ranging from business-economic analyses (Liu), socio-cultural political analyses (Watson), and memoirs (Kroc & Anderson), to criticism around their conduct and effects (Striffler). Eric Schlosser’s Fast Food Nation: The Dark Side of the All-American Meal is the most well-known published critique of the fast food industry and its effects with, famously, the Rolling Stone article on which it was based generating more reader mail than any other piece run in the 1990s. The book itself (researched narrative creative nonfiction), moreover, made a fascinating transition to the screen, transformed into a fictionalised drama (co-written by Schlosser) that narrates the content of the book from the point of view of a series of fictional/composite characters involved in the industry, rather than in a documentary format. Akin to the range of studies of fast food restaurants, there are also a variety of studies of eateries in US motels, caravan parks, diners and service station restaurants (see, for example, Baeder). Although there has been little study of this sub-genre of food and drink publishing, their popularity can be explained, at least in part, because such volumes cater to the significant readership for writing about food related topics of all kinds, with food writing recently identified as mainstream literary fare in the USA and UK (Hughes) and an entire “publishing subculture” in Australia (Dunstan & Chaitman). Although no exact tally exists, an informed estimate by the founder of the Gourmand World Cookbook Awards and president of the Paris Cookbook Fair, Edouard Cointreau, has more than 26,000 volumes on food and wine related topics currently published around the world annually (ctd. in Andriani “Gourmand Awards”). The readership for publications about restaurants can also perhaps be attributed to the wide range of information that can be included a single study. My study of a selection of these texts from the UK, USA and Australia indicates that this can include narratives of place and architecture dealing with the restaurant’s location, locale and design; narratives of directly food-related subject matter such as menus, recipes and dining trends; and narratives of people, in the stories of its proprietors, staff and patrons. Detailed studies of contemporary individual establishments commonly take the form of authorised narratives either written by the owners, chefs or other staff with the help of a food journalist, historian or other professional writer, or produced largely by that writer with the assistance of the premise’s staff. These studies are often extensively illustrated with photographs and, sometimes, drawings or reproductions of other artworks, and almost always include recipes. Two examples of these from my own collection include a centennial history of a famous New Orleans eatery that survived Hurricane Katrina, Galatoire’s Cookbook. Written by employees—the chief operating officer/general manager (Melvin Rodrigue) and publicist (Jyl Benson)—this incorporates reminiscences from both other staff and patrons. The second is another study of a New Orleans’ restaurant, this one by the late broadcaster and celebrity local historian Mel Leavitt. The Court of Two Sisters Cookbook: With a History of the French Quarter and the Restaurant, compiled with the assistance of the Two Sisters’ proprietor, Joseph Fein Joseph III, was first published in 1992 and has been so enduringly popular that it is in its eighth printing. These texts, in common with many others of this type, trace a triumph-over-adversity company history that incorporates a series of mildly scintillating anecdotes, lists of famous chefs and diners, and signature recipes. Although obviously focused on an external readership, they can also be characterised as an instance of what David M. Boje calls an organisation’s “story performance” (106) as the process of creating these narratives mobilises an organisation’s (in these cases, a commercial enterprise’s) internal information processing and narrative building activities. Studies of contemporary restaurants are much more rarely written without any involvement from the eatery’s personnel. When these are, the results tend to have much in common with more critical studies such as Fast Food Nation, as well as so-called architectural ‘building biographies’ which attempt to narrate the historical and social forces that “explain the shapes and uses” (Ellis, Chao & Parrish 70) of the physical structures we create. Examples of this would include Harding’s study of the importance of the Boeuf sur le Toit in Parisian life in the 1920s and Middlebrook’s social history of London’s Strand Corner House. Such work agrees with Kopytoff’s assertion—following Appadurai’s proposal that objects possess their own ‘biographies’ which need to be researched and expressed—that such inquiry can reveal not only information about the objects under consideration, but also about readers as we examine our “cultural […] aesthetic, historical, and even political” responses to these narratives (67). The life story of a restaurant will necessarily be entangled with those of the figures who have been involved in its establishment and development, as well as the narratives they create around the business. This following brief study of The Spotted Pig, however, written without the assistance of the establishment’s personnel, aims to outline a life story for this eatery in order to reflect upon the pig’s place in contemporary dining practice in New York as raw foodstuff, fashionable comestible, product, brand, symbol and marketing tool, as well as, at times, purely as an animal identity. The Spotted Pig Widely profiled before it even opened, The Spotted Pig is reportedly one of the city’s “most popular” restaurants (Michelin 349). It is profiled in all the city guidebooks I could locate in print and online, featuring in some of these as a key stop on recommended itineraries (see, for instance, Otis 39). A number of these proclaim it to be the USA’s first ‘gastropub’—the term first used in 1991 in the UK to describe a casual hotel/bar with good food and reasonable prices (Farley). The Spotted Pig is thus styled on a shabby-chic version of a traditional British hotel, featuring a cluttered-but-well arranged use of pig-themed objects and illustrations that is described by latest Michelin Green Guide of New York City as “a country-cute décor that still manages to be hip” (Michelin 349). From the three-dimensional carved pig hanging above the entrance in a homage to the shingles of traditional British hotels, to the use of its image on the menu, website and souvenir tee-shirts, the pig as motif proceeds its use as a foodstuff menu item. So much so, that the restaurant is often (affectionately) referred to by patrons and reviewers simply as ‘The Pig’. The restaurant has become so well known in New York in the relatively brief time it has been operating that it has not only featured in a number of novels and memoirs, but, moreover, little or no explanation has been deemed necessary as the signifier of “The Spotted Pig” appears to convey everything that needs to be said about an eatery of quality and fashion. In the thriller Lethal Experiment: A Donovan Creed Novel, when John Locke’s hero has to leave the restaurant and becomes involved in a series of dangerous escapades, he wants nothing more but to get back to his dinner (107, 115). The restaurant is also mentioned a number of times in Sex and the City author Candace Bushnell’s Lipstick Jungle in relation to a (fictional) new movie of the same name. The joke in the book is that the character doesn’t know of the restaurant (26). In David Goodwillie’s American Subversive, the story of a journalist-turned-blogger and a homegrown terrorist set in New York, the narrator refers to “Scarlett Johansson, for instance, and the hostess at the Spotted Pig” (203-4) as the epitome of attractiveness. The Spotted Pig is also mentioned in Suzanne Guillette’s memoir, Much to Your Chagrin, when the narrator is on a dinner date but fears running into her ex-boyfriend: ‘Jack lives somewhere in this vicinity […] Vaguely, you recall him telling you he was not too far from the Spotted Pig on Greenwich—now, was it Greenwich Avenue or Greenwich Street?’ (361). The author presumes readers know the right answer in order to build tension in this scene. Although this success is usually credited to the joint efforts of backer, music executive turned restaurateur Ken Friedman, his partner, well-known chef, restaurateur, author and television personality Mario Batali, and their UK-born and trained chef, April Bloomfield (see, for instance, Batali), a significant part has been built on Bloomfield’s pork cookery. The very idea of a “spotted pig” itself raises a central tenet of Bloomfield’s pork/food philosophy which is sustainable and organic. That is, not the mass produced, industrially farmed pig which produces a leaner meat, but the fatty, tastier varieties of pig such as the heritage six-spotted Berkshire which is “darker, more heavily marbled with fat, juicier and richer-tasting than most pork” (Fabricant). Bloomfield has, indeed, made pig’s ears—long a Chinese restaurant staple in the city and a key ingredient of Southern US soul food as well as some traditional Japanese and Spanish dishes—fashionable fare in the city, and her current incarnation, a crispy pig’s ear salad with lemon caper dressing (TSP 2010) is much acclaimed by reviewers. This approach to ingredients—using the ‘whole beast’, local whenever possible, and the concentration on pork—has been underlined and enhanced by a continuing relationship with UK chef Fergus Henderson. In his series of London restaurants under the banner of “St. John”, Henderson is famed for the approach to pork cookery outlined in his two books Nose to Tail Eating: A Kind of British Cooking, published in 1999 (re-published both in the UK and the US as The Whole Beast: Nose to Tail Eating), and Beyond Nose to Tail: A Kind of British Cooking: Part II (coauthored with Justin Piers Gellatly in 2007). Henderson has indeed been identified as starting a trend in dining and food publishing, focusing on sustainably using as food the entirety of any animal killed for this purpose, but which mostly focuses on using all parts of pigs. In publishing, this includes Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall’s The River Cottage Meat Book, Peter Kaminsky’s Pig Perfect, subtitled Encounters with Some Remarkable Swine and Some Great Ways to Cook Them, John Barlow’s Everything but the Squeal: Eating the Whole Hog in Northern Spain and Jennifer McLagan’s Fat: An Appreciation of a Misunderstood Ingredient, with Recipes (2008). In restaurants, it certainly includes The Spotted Pig. So pervasive has embrace of whole beast pork consumption been in New York that, by 2007, Bruni could write that these are: “porky times, fatty times, which is to say very good times indeed. Any new logo for the city could justifiably place the Big Apple in the mouth of a spit-roasted pig” (Bruni). This demand set the stage perfectly for, in October 2007, Henderson to travel to New York to cook pork-rich menus at The Spotted Pig in tandem with Bloomfield (Royer). He followed this again in 2008 and, by 2009, this annual event had become known as “FergusStock” and was covered by local as well as UK media, and a range of US food weblogs. By 2009, it had grown to become a dinner at the Spotted Pig with half the dishes on the menu by Henderson and half by Bloomfield, and a dinner the next night at David Chang’s acclaimed Michelin-starred Momofuku Noodle Bar, which is famed for its Cantonese-style steamed pork belly buns. A third dinner (and then breakfast/brunch) followed at Friedman/Bloomfield’s Breslin Bar and Dining Room (discussed below) (Rose). The Spotted Pig dinners have become famed for Henderson’s pig’s head and pork trotter dishes with the chef himself recognising that although his wasn’t “the most obvious food to cook for America”, it was the case that “at St John, if a couple share a pig’s head, they tend to be American” (qtd. in Rose). In 2009, the pigs’ head were presented in pies which Henderson has described as “puff pastry casing, with layers of chopped, cooked pig’s head and potato, so all the lovely, bubbly pig’s head juices go into the potato” (qtd. in Rose). Bloomfield was aged only 28 when, in 2003, with a recommendation from Jamie Oliver, she interviewed for, and won, the position of executive chef of The Spotted Pig (Fabricant; Q&A). Following this introduction to the US, her reputation as a chef has grown based on the strength of her pork expertise. Among a host of awards, she was named one of US Food & Wine magazine’s ten annual Best New Chefs in 2007. In 2009, she was a featured solo session titled “Pig, Pig, Pig” at the fourth Annual International Chefs Congress, a prestigious New York City based event where “the world’s most influential and innovative chefs, pastry chefs, mixologists, and sommeliers present the latest techniques and culinary concepts to their peers” (Starchefs.com). Bloomfield demonstrated breaking down a whole suckling St. Canut milk raised piglet, after which she butterflied, rolled and slow-poached the belly, and fried the ears. As well as such demonstrations of expertise, she is also often called upon to provide expert comment on pork-related news stories, with The Spotted Pig regularly the subject of that food news. For example, when a rare, heritage Hungarian pig was profiled as a “new” New York pork source in 2009, this story arose because Bloomfield had served a Mangalitsa/Berkshire crossbreed pig belly and trotter dish with Agen prunes (Sanders) at The Spotted Pig. Bloomfield was quoted as the authority on the breed’s flavour and heritage authenticity: “it took me back to my grandmother’s kitchen on a Sunday afternoon, windows steaming from the roasting pork in the oven […] This pork has that same authentic taste” (qtd. in Sanders). Bloomfield has also used this expert profile to support a series of pork-related causes. These include the Thanksgiving Farm in the Catskill area, which produces free range pork for its resident special needs children and adults, and helps them gain meaningful work-related skills in working with these pigs. Bloomfield not only cooks for the project’s fundraisers, but also purchases any excess pigs for The Spotted Pig (Estrine 103). This strong focus on pork is not, however, exclusive. The Spotted Pig is also one of a number of American restaurants involved in the Meatless Monday campaign, whereby at least one vegetarian option is included on menus in order to draw attention to the benefits of a plant-based diet. When, in 2008, Bloomfield beat the Iron Chef in the sixth season of the US version of the eponymous television program, the central ingredient was nothing to do with pork—it was olives. Diversifying from this focus on ‘pig’ can, however, be dangerous. Friedman and Bloomfield’s next enterprise after The Spotted Pig was The John Dory seafood restaurant at the corner of 10th Avenue and 16th Street. This opened in November 2008 to reviews that its food was “uncomplicated and nearly perfect” (Andrews 22), won Bloomfield Time Out New York’s 2009 “Best New Hand at Seafood” award, but was not a success. The John Dory was a more formal, but smaller, restaurant that was more expensive at a time when the financial crisis was just biting, and was closed the following August. Friedman blamed the layout, size and neighbourhood (Stein) and its reservation system, which limited walk-in diners (ctd. in Vallis), but did not mention its non-pork, seafood orientation. When, almost immediately, another Friedman/Bloomfield project was announced, the Breslin Bar & Dining Room (which opened in October 2009 in the Ace Hotel at 20 West 29th Street and Broadway), the enterprise was closely modeled on the The Spotted Pig. In preparation, its senior management—Bloomfield, Friedman and sous-chefs, Nate Smith and Peter Cho (who was to become the Breslin’s head chef)—undertook a tasting tour of the UK that included Henderson’s St. John Bread & Wine Bar (Leventhal). Following this, the Breslin’s menu highlighted a series of pork dishes such as terrines, sausages, ham and potted styles (Rosenberg & McCarthy), with even Bloomfield’s pork scratchings (crispy pork rinds) bar snacks garnering glowing reviews (see, for example, Severson; Ghorbani). Reviewers, moreover, waxed lyrically about the menu’s pig-based dishes, the New York Times reviewer identifying this focus as catering to New York diners’ “fetish for pork fat” (Sifton). This representative review details not only “an entree of gently smoked pork belly that’s been roasted to tender goo, for instance, over a drift of buttery mashed potatoes, with cabbage and bacon on the side” but also a pig’s foot “in gravy made of reduced braising liquid, thick with pillowy shallots and green flecks of deconstructed brussels sprouts” (Sifton). Sifton concluded with the proclamation that this style of pork was “very good: meat that is fat; fat that is meat”. Concluding remarks Bloomfield has listed Michael Ruhlman’s Charcuterie as among her favourite food books. Publishers Weekly reviewer called Ruhlman “a food poet, and the pig is his muse” (Q&A). In August 2009, it was reported that Bloomfield had always wanted to write a cookbook (Marx) and, in July 2010, HarperCollins imprint Ecco publisher and foodbook editor Dan Halpern announced that he was planning a book with her, tentatively titled, A Girl and Her Pig (Andriani “Ecco Expands”). As a “cookbook with memoir running throughout” (Maurer), this will discuss the influence of the pig on her life as well as how to cook pork. This text will obviously also add to the data known about The Spotted Pig, but until then, this brief gastrobiography has attempted to outline some of the human, and in this case, animal, stories that lie behind all businesses. References Andrews, Colman. “Its Up To You, New York, New York.” Gourmet Apr. (2009): 18-22, 111. Andriani, Lynn. “Ecco Expands Cookbook Program: HC Imprint Signs Up Seven New Titles.” Publishers Weekly 12 Jul. (2010) 3 Sep. 2010 http://www.publishersweekly.com/pw/by-topic/book-news/cooking/article/43803-ecco-expands-cookbook-program.html Andriani, Lynn. “Gourmand Awards Receive Record Number of Cookbook Entries.” Publishers Weekly 27 Sep. 2010 http://www.publishersweekly.com/pw/by-topic/book-news/cooking/article/44573-gourmand-awards-receive-record-number-of-cookbook-entries.html Appadurai, Arjun. 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St Lucia: U of Queensland P, 2007: 333-351. Ellis, W. Russell, Tonia Chao and Janet Parrish. “Levi’s Place: A Building Biography.” Places 2.1 (1985): 57-70. Estrine, Darryl. Harvest to Heat: Cooking with America’s Best Chefs, Farmers, and Artisans. Newton CT: The Taunton Press, 2010 Fabricant, Florence. “Food stuff: Off the Menu.” New York Times 26 Nov. 2003. 3 Sep. 2010 http://www.nytimes.com/2003/11/26/dining/food-stuff-off-the-menu.html?ref=april_bloomfield Fabricant, Florence. “Food Stuff: Fit for an Emperor, Now Raised in America.” New York Times 23 Jun. 2004. 2 Sep. 2010 http://www.nytimes.com/2004/06/23/dining/food-stuff-fit-for-an-emperor-now-raised-in-america.html Farley, David. “In N.Y., An Appetite for Gastropubs.” The Washington Post 24 May 2009. 1 Sep. 2010 http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/05/22/AR2009052201105.html Fearnley-Whittingstall, Hugh. The River Cottage Meat Book. London: Hodder & Stoughton, 2004. 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Hughes, Kathryn. “Food Writing Moves from Kitchen to bookshelf.” The Guardian 19 Jun. 2010. 1 Sep. 2010 http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2010/jun/19/anthony-bourdain-food-writing Jakle, John A. and Keith A. Sculle. Fast Food: Roadside Restaurants in the Automobile Age. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins U P, 1999. Jones, Lois. EasyJet: The Story of Britain's Biggest Low-cost Airline. London: Aurum, 2005. Kaminsky, Peter. “Feeding Time at Le Zoo.” New York Magazine 12 Jun. 1995: 65. Kaminsky, Peter. Pig Perfect: Encounters with Some Remarkable Swine and Some Great Ways To Cook Them. New York: Hyperion 2005. Koda, Harold, Andrew Bolton and Rhonda K. Garelick. Chanel. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2005. Kopytoff, Igor. “The Cultural Biography of Things: Commoditization as Process.” The Social Life of things: Commodities in Cultural Perspectives. Ed. Arjun Appadurai. Cambridge (UK): Cambridge U P, 2003. 64-94. (First pub. 1986). Kroc, Ray and Robert Anderson. 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Marx, Rebecca. “Beyond the Breslin: April Bloomfield is Thinking Tea, Bakeries, Cookbook.” 28 Aug. 2009. 3 Sep. 2010 http://blogs.villagevoice.com/forkintheroad/archives/2009/08/beyond_the_bres.php Maurer, Daniel. “Meatball Shop, April Bloomfield Plan Cookbooks.” Grub Street 12 Jul. 2010. 3 Sep. 2010 http://newyork.grubstreet.com/2010/07/meatball_shop_april_bloomfield.html McLagan, Jennifer. Fat: An Appreciation of a Misunderstood Ingredient, with Recipes. Berkeley: Ten Speed Press, 2008. Michelin. Michelin Green Guide New York City. Michelin Travel Publications, 2010. O’Donnell, Mietta. “Burying and Celebrating Ghosts.” Herald Sun 1 Dec. 1998. 3 Sep. 2010 http://www.miettas.com.au/restaurants/rest_96-00/buryingghosts.html Otis, Ginger Adams. New York Encounter. Melbourne: Lonely Planet, 2007. “Q and A: April Bloomfield.” New York Times 18 Apr. 2008. 3 Sep. 2010 http://dinersjournal.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/04/18/q-and-a-april-bloomfield Rodrigue, Melvin and Jyl Benson. 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This paper argues that illegitimacy is a concept that relates to almost all of the fundamental ways in which Western society has traditionally organised itself. Sex, family and marriage, and the power of the church and state, are all implicated in the various ways in which society reproduces itself from generation to generation. All employ the concepts of legitimacy and illegitimacy to define what is and what is not permissible. Further, the creation of the illegitimate can occur in more or less legitimate ways; for example, through acts of consent, on the one hand; and force, on the other. This paper uses the study of an English Renaissance text, Shakespeare’s Henry V, to argue that these concepts remain potent ones, regularly invoked as a means of identifying and denouncing perceived threats to the good ordering of the social fabric. In western societies, many of which may be constructed as post-marriage, illegitimate is often applied as a descriptor to unlicensed migrants, refugees and asylum seekers. In countries subject to war and conflict, rape as a war crime is increasingly used by armies to create fractures within the subject community and to undermine the paternity of a cohort of children. In societies where extramarital sex is prohibited, or where rape has been used as a weapon of war, the bastard acts as physical evidence that an unsanctioned act has been committed and the laws of society broken, a “failure in social control” (Laslett, Oosterveen and Smith, 5). This paper explores these themes, using past conceptions of the illegitimate and bastardy as an explanatory concept for problematic aspects of legitimacy in contemporary culture.Bastardy was a particularly important issue in sixteenth and seventeenth century Europe when an individual’s genealogy was a major determining factor of social status, property and identity (MacFarlane). Further, illegitimacy was not necessarily an aspect of a person’s birth. It could become a status into which they were thrust through the use of divorce, for example, as when Henry VIII illegitimised his daughter Mary after annulling his marriage to Mary’s mother, Catherine of Aragon. Alison Findlay’s study of illegitimacy in Renaissance literature lists over 70 portrayals of illegitimacy, or characters threatened with illegitimacy, between 1588 and 1652 (253–257). In addition to illegitimacy at an individual level however, discussions around what constitutes the “illegitimate” figure in terms of its relationship with the family and the wider community, are also applicable to broader concerns over national identity. In work such as Stages of History, Phyllis Rackin dissected images of masculine community present in Shakespeare’s history plays to expose underlying tensions over gender, power and identity. As the study of Henry V indicates in the following discussion, illegitimacy was also a metaphor brought to bear on issues of national as well as personal identity in the early modern era. The image of the nation as a “family” to denote unity and security, both then and now, is rendered complex and problematic by introducing the “illegitimate” into that nation-family image. The rhetoric used in the recent debate over the Scottish independence referendum, and in Australia’s ongoing controversy over “illegitimate” migration, both indicate that the concept of a “national bastard”, an amorphous figure that resists precise definition, remains a potent rhetorical force. Before turning to the detail of Henry V, it is useful to review the use of “illegitimate” in the early modern context. Lacking an established position within a family, a bastard was in danger of being marginalised and deprived of any but the most basic social identity. If acknowledged by a family, the bastard might become a drain on that family’s economic resources, drawing money away from legitimate children and resented accordingly. Such resentment may be reciprocated. In his essay “On Envy” the scientist, author, lawyer and eventually Lord Chancellor of England Francis Bacon explained the destructive impulse of bastardy as follows: “Deformed persons, and eunuchs, and old men, and bastards, are envious. For he that cannot possibly mend his own case will do what he can to impair another’s.” Thus, bastardy becomes a plot device which can be used to explain and to rationalise evil. In early modern English literature, as today, bastardy as a defect of birth is only one meaning for the word. What does “in everything illegitimate” (quoting Shakespeare’s character Thersites in Troilus and Cressida [V.viii.8]) mean for our understanding of both our own society and that of the late sixteenth century? Bastardy is an important ideologeme, in that it is a “unit of meaning through which the ‘social space’ constructs the ideological values of its signs” (Schleiner, 195). In other words, bastardy has an ideological significance that stretches far beyond a question of parental marital status, extending to become a metaphor for national as well as personal loss of identity. Anti-Catholic polemicists of the early sixteenth century accused priests of begetting a generation of bastards that would overthrow English society (Fish, 7). The historian Polydore Vergil was accused of suborning and bastardising English history by plagiarism and book destruction: “making himself father to other men’s works” (Hay, 159). Why is illegitimacy so important and so universal a metaphor? The term “bastard” in its sense of mixture or mongrel has been applied to language, to weaponry, to almost anything that is a distorted but recognisable version of something else. As such, the concept of bastardy lends itself readily to the rhetorical figure of metaphor which, as the sixteenth century writer George Puttenham puts it, is “a kind of wresting of a single word from his owne right signification, to another not so natural, but yet of some affinitie or coueniencie with it” (Puttenham, 178). Later on in The Art of English Poesie, Puttenham uses the word “bastard” to describe something that can best be recognised as being an imperfect version of something else: “This figure [oval] taketh his name of an egge […] and is as it were a bastard or imperfect rounde declining toward a longitude.” (101). “Bastard” as a descriptive term in this context has meaning because it connects the subject of discussion with its original. Michael Neill takes an anthropological approach to the question of why the bastard in early modern drama is almost invariably depicted as monstrous or evil. In “In everything illegitimate: Imagining the Bastard in Renaissance Drama,” Neill argues that bastards are “filthy”, using the term as it is construed by Mary Douglas in her work Purity and Danger. Douglas argues that dirt is defined by being where it should not be, it is “matter in the wrong place, belonging to ‘a residual category, rejected from our normal scheme of classifications,’ a source of fundamental pollution” (134). In this argument the figure of the bastard aligns strongly with the concept of the Other (Said). Arguably, however, the anthropologist Edmund Leach provides a more useful model to understand the associations of hybridity, monstrosity and bastardy. In “Animal Categories and Verbal Abuse”, Leach asserts that our perceptions of the world around us are largely based on binary distinctions; that an object is one thing, and is not another. If an object combines attributes of itself with those of another, the interlapping area will be suppressed so that there may be no hesitation in discerning between them. This repressed area, the area which is neither one thing nor another but “liminal” (40), becomes the object of fear and of fascination: – taboo. It is this liminality that creates anxiety surrounding bastards, as they occupy the repressed, “taboo” area between family and outsiders. In that it is born out of wedlock, the bastard child has no place within the family structure; yet as the child of a family member it cannot be completely relegated to the external world. Michael Neill rightly points out the extent to which the topos of illegitimacy is associated with the disintegration of boundaries and a consequent loss of coherence and identity, arguing that the bastard is “a by-product of the attempt to define and preserve a certain kind of social order” (147). The concept of the liminal figure, however, recognises that while a by-product can be identified and eliminated, a bastard can neither be contained nor excluded. Consequently, the bastard challenges the established order; to be illegitimate, it must retain its connection with the legitimate figure from which it diverges. Thus the illegitimate stands as a permanent threat to the legitimate, a reminder of what the legitimate can become. Bastardy is used by Shakespeare to indicate the fear of loss of national as well as personal identity. Although noted for its triumphalist construction of a hero-king, Henry V is also shot through with uncertainties and fears, fears which are frequently expressed using illegitimacy as a metaphor. Notwithstanding its battle scenes and militarism, it is the lawyers, genealogists and historians who initiate and drive forward the narrative in Henry V (McAlindon, 435). The reward of the battle for Henry is not so much the crown of France as the assurance of his own legitimacy as monarch. The lengthy and legalistic recital of genealogies with which the Archbishop of Canterbury proves to general English satisfaction that their English king Henry holds a better lineal right to the French throne than its current occupant may not be quite as “clear as is the summer sun” (Henry V 1.2.83), but Henry’s question about whether he may “with right and conscience” make his claim to the French throne elicits a succinct response. The churchmen tell Henry that, in order to demonstrate that he is truly the descendant of his royal forefathers, Henry will need to validate that claim. In other words, the legitimacy of Henry’s identity, based on his connection with the past, is predicated on his current behaviour:Gracious lord,Stand for your own; unwind your bloody flag;Look back into your mighty ancestors:Go, my dread lord, to your great-grandsire’s tomb,From whom you claim; invoke his warlike spirit…Awake remembrance of these valiant dead,And with your puissant arm renew their feats:You are their heir, you sit upon their throne,The blood and courage that renowned themRuns in your veins….Your brother kings and monarchs of the earthDo all expect that you should rouse yourselfAs did the former lions of your blood. (Henry V 1.2.122 – 124)These exhortations to Henry are one instance of the importance of genealogy and its immediate connection to personal and national identity. The subject recurs throughout the play as French and English characters both invoke a discourse of legitimacy and illegitimacy to articulate fears of invasion, defeat, and loss of personal and national identity. One particular example of this is the brief scene in which the French royalty allow themselves to contemplate the prospect of defeat at the hands of the English:Fr. King. ‘Tis certain, he hath pass’d the river Somme.Constable. And if he be not fought withal, my lord,Let us not live in France; let us quit all,And give our vineyards to a barbarous people.Dauphin. O Dieu vivant! shall a few sprays of us,The emptying of our fathers’ luxury,Our scions, put in wild and savage stock,Spirt up so suddenly into the clouds,And overlook their grafters?Bourbon. Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards!...Dauphin. By faith and honour,Our madams mock at us, and plainly sayOur mettle is bred out; and they will giveTheir bodies to the lust of English youthTo new-store France with bastard warriors. (Henry V 3.5.1 – 31).Rape and sexual violence pervade the language of Henry V. France itself is constructed as a sexually vulnerable female with “womby vaultages” and a “mistress-court” (2.4.131, 140). In one of his most famous speeches Henry graphically describes the rape and slaughter that accompanies military defeat (3.3). Reading Henry V solely in terms of its association of military conquest with sexual violence, however, runs the risk of overlooking the image of bastards themselves as both the threat and the outcome of national defeat. The lines quoted above exemplify the extent to which illegitimacy was a vital metaphor within early modern discourses of national as well as personal identity. Although the lines are divided between various speakers – the French King, Constable (representing the law), Dauphin (the Crown Prince) and Bourbon (representing the aristocracy) – the images develop smoothly and consistently to express English dominance and French subordination, articulated through images of illegitimacy.The dialogue begins with the most immediate consequence of invasion and of illegitimacy: the loss of property. Legitimacy, illegitimacy and property were so closely associated that a case of bastardy brought to the ecclesiastical court that did not include a civil law suit about land was referred to as a case of “bastardy speciall”, and the association between illegitimacy and property is present in this speech (Cowell, 14). The use of the word “vine” is simultaneously a metonym for France and a metaphor for the family, as in the “family tree”, conflating the themes of family identity and national identity that are both threatened by the virile English forces.As the dialogue develops, the rhetoric becomes more elaborate. The vines which for the Constable (from a legal perspective) represented both France and French families become instead an attempt to depict the English as being of a subordinate breed. The Dauphin’s brief narrative of the English origins refers to the illegitimate William the Conqueror, bastard son of the Duke of Normandy and by designating the English as being descendants of a bastard Frenchman the Dauphin attempts to depict the English nation as originating from a superabundance of French virility; wild offshoots from a true stock. Yet “grafting” one plant to another can create a stronger plant, which is what has happened here. The Dauphin’s metaphors, designed to construct the English as an unruly and illegitimate offshoot of French society, a product of the overflowing French virility, evolve instead into an emblem of a younger, stronger branch which has overtaken its enfeebled origins.In creating this scene, Shakespeare constructs the Frenchmen as being unable to contain the English figuratively, still less literally. The attempts to reduce the English threat by imagining them as “a few sprays”, a product of casual sexual excess, collapses into Bourbon’s incoherent ejaculation: “Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards!” and the Norman bastard dominates the conclusion of the scene. Instead of containing and marginalising the bastard, the metaphoric language creates and acknowledges a threat which cannot be marginalised. The “emptying of luxury” has engendered an uncontrollable illegitimate who will destroy the French nation beyond any hope of recovery, overrunning France with bastards.The scene is fascinating for its use of illegitimacy as a means of articulating fears not only for the past and present but also for the future. The Dauphin’s vision is one of irreversible national and familial disintegration, irreversible because, unlike rape, the French women’s imagined rejection of their French families and embrace of the English conquerors implies a total abandonment of family origins and the willing creation of a new, illegitimate dynasty. Immediately prior to this scene the audience has seen the Dauphin’s fear in action: the French princess Katherine is shown learning to speak English as part of her preparation for giving her body to a “bastard Norman”, a prospect which she anticipates with a frisson of pleasure and humour, as well as fear. This scene, between Katherine and her women, evokes a range of powerful anxieties which appear repeatedly in the drama and texts of the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries: anxieties over personal and national identity, over female chastity and masculine authority, and over continuity between generations. Peter Laslett in The World We Have Lost – Further Explored points out that “the engendering of children on a scale which might threaten the social structure was never, or almost never, a present possibility” (154) at this stage of European history. This being granted, the Dauphin’s depiction of such a “wave” of illegitimates, while it might have no roots in reality, functioned as a powerful image of disorder. Illegitimacy as a threat and as a strategy is not limited to the renaissance, although a study of renaissance texts offers a useful guidebook to the use of illegitimacy as a means of polarising and excluding. Although as previously discussed, for many Western countries, the marital status of one’s parents is probably the least meaningful definition associated with the word “illegitimate”, the concept of the nation as a family remains current in modern political discourse, and illegitimate continues to be a powerful metaphor. During the recent independence referendum in Scotland, David Cameron besought the Scottish people not to “break up the national family”; at the same time, the Scottish Nationalists have been constructed as “ungrateful bastards” for wishing to turn their backs on the national family. As Klocker and Dunne, and later O’Brien and Rowe, have demonstrated, the emotive use of words such as “illegitimate” and “illegal” in Australian political rhetoric concerning migration is of long standing. Given current tensions, it might be timely to call for a further and more detailed study of the way in which the term “illegitimate” continues to be used by politicians and the media to define, demonise and exclude certain types of would-be Australian immigrants from the collective Australian “national family”. Suggestions that persons suspected of engaging with terrorist organisations overseas should be stripped of their Australian passports imply the creation of national bastards in an attempt to distance the Australian community from such threats. But the strategy can never be completely successful. Constructing figures as bastard or the illegitimate remains a method by which the legitimate seeks to define itself, but it also means that the bastard or illegitimate can never be wholly separated or cast out. In one form or another, the bastard is here to stay.ReferencesBeardon, Elizabeth. “Sidney's ‘Mongrell Tragicomedy’ and Anglo-Spanish Exchange in the New Arcadia.” Journal for Early Modern Cultural Studies 10 (2010): 29 - 51.Davis, Kingsley. “Illegitimacy and the Social Structure.” American Journal of Sociology 45 (1939).John Cowell. The Interpreter. Cambridge: John Legate, 1607.Greenblatt, Stephen. Renaissance Self-Fashioning: From More to Shakespeare. 1980. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005.Findlay, Alison. Illegitimate Power: Bastards in Renaissance Drama. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2009.Hay, Denys. Polydore Vergil: Renaissance Historian and Man of Letters. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1952.Laslett, Peter. The World We Have Lost - Further Explored. London: Methuen, 1983.Laslett, P., K. Oosterveen, and R. M. Smith, eds. Bastardy and Its Comparative History. 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