Journal articles on the topic 'Lock picking'

Criminalistic research on locks takes an important place in prevention, qualification, disclosure and investigation of property crimes related to house penetration, so-called burglaries. The analysis of modern expert practice has established a tendency to increase the unauthorized (criminal) picking of cylinder pin locks with a horizontally oriented keyhole that has become widespread in last years. Its contributes a large number of manufactured devices (manufactured in China mainly) for picking indicated locks, namely master keys operating on the principle of self impressioning and can be purchased through the Internet, as well as a larger number video materials regarding their use. In the available criminalistic literature only singles, at some extent current and actual ways of unauthorized picking of cylinder pin locks using of outside objects with developed recommendations according research on such as manipulation method by means of a selected forged key and bumping are covered. Method of self impressioning that is the basis of picking modern locks mastered and successfully used by "qualified" burglars majority, in modern criminalistics is not mentioned at all. Therefore the purpose of this article is to highlight criminalistic research possibilities of certain types of cylinder pin locks, picked by means of an manufactured self impressioning master key. The article pays attention to such problem aspects: method of self impressioning using in the way of picking a lock with a cylinder mechanism; design features of self impressioning master key to cylinder locks, concerning to the solution of diagnostic and identification issues; traces classification of self impressioning master key remaining on lock details; difficulties research on cylinder locks that were subjected to action of a self impressioning master key.

Lock-in amplifying (LIA) is one of important techniques of picking up weak signals buried in the noise, and is the core component of Tunable Diode Laser Absorption Spectroscopy (TDLAS) technology. Then we design a small size, dual phase lock-in amplifier (LIA) integrated circuit. This paper is based on the phase-sensitive detector AD630, together with the phase-locked loop (PLL) circuit (74HC4046) and the active filter (MAX275) the value of Q and the center frequency of which could be adjusted. The output signals were collected by A/D converter and dedicated high-resolution data acquisition card. The range of frequency is 500Hz-100 kHz, the dynamic range of acquisition signal is greater than 100dB, the signal-to-noise ratio is up to 60dB, and the overall area of circuit is only 14cm × 14.8cm. Experiments show that the design meets the requirements of integration into the system.

This paper presents a dynamic model, inspired by evolutionary game theory, of how standards and norms emerge in decentralized economies. It shows that standardization outcomes depend on adopters' attitudes to problems caused by incompatibility. If individuals display aversion to incompatibility, standardization never fails to happen eventually, but societies sometimes end up picking inferior standards. In this case, official action can be useful to quickly achieve sensible standardization. On the other hand, when individuals display tolerance or neutrality to incompatibility, there is neither path-dependency nor a lock-in problem, and regulation seems a poor alternative to laissez-faire. (JEL C73, D62, L1)

Cell phones are turning into a basic piece of our day by day life because of most proficient and powerful specialized devices without time and space boundation. Everybody has a portable, tablet, tablet with calling office i.e. Fablet. Distributed computing (DC) has been broadly perceived as the cutting edge's registering foundation with the fast development of portable applications and the support of Cloud Computing for an assortment of administrations, the Mobile Cloud Computing (MCC) is presented as an incorporation of Cloud Computing into the Mobile Environment. Portable Cloud Computing is picking up stream. MCC is alluded to as the framework where both the information stockpiling and the information handling occur outside the cell phone. In MCC condition, Cloud Computing, Mobile Computing and Application confront a few difficulties like Mobile Computation Offloading, Seamless Connectivity, Vendor/Data Lock-in, Long WAN Latency, Live VM (Virtual Machine) relocation issues, Low Bandwidth, Energy-Efficient Transmissions and Trust-Security and Privacy Issues. In this paper, I have talked about around a few difficulties and issues identified with the Mobile Cloud Computing. This paper gives data about Mobile Cloud Computing Application, Security and Issues.

The division of cortical visual processing into distinct dorsal and ventral streams is a key concept in primate neuroscience [Goodale, M. A., & Milner, A. D. Separate visual pathways for perception and action. Trends in Neurosciences, 15, 20–25, 1992; Steele, G., Weller, R., & Cusick, C. Cortical connections of the caudal subdivision of the dorsolateral area (V4) in monkeys. Journal of Comparative Neurology, 306, 495–520, 1991]. The ventral stream is usually characterized as a “What” pathway, whereas the dorsal stream is implied in mediating spatial perception (“Where”) and visually guided actions (“How”). A subpathway emerging from the dorsal stream and projecting to the medial-temporal lobe has been identified [Kravitz, D. J., Saleem, K. S., Baker, C. I., & Mishkin, M. A new neural framework for visuospatial processing. Nature Reviews Neuroscience, 12, 217–230, 2011; Cavada, C., & Goldman-Raiuc, P. S. Posterior parietal cortex in rhesus monkey: I. Parcellation of areas based on distinctive limbic and sensory cortico-cortical connections. Journal of Comparative Neurology, 287, 393–421, 1989]. The current article studies the coordination of visual information typically associated with the dorsal stream (“Where”), with planned movements, focusing on the temporal lobe. We recorded extracellular activity from 565 cells in the human medial-temporal and frontal lobes while 13 patients performed cued hand movements with visual feedback (visuomotor task), without feedback (motor task), or observed visual feedback without motor movement (visual-only task). We discovered two different neural populations in the human medial-temporal lobe. One consists of motor-like neurons representing hand position, speed or acceleration during the motor task but not during the visuomotor or visual tasks. The other is specific to the parahippocampal gyrus (an area known to process visual motion [Gur, M., & Snodderly, D. M. Direction selectivity in V1 of alert monkeys: Evidence for parallel pathways for motion processing. Journal of Physiology, 585, 383–400, 2007; Sato, N., & Nakamura, K. Visual response properties of neurons in the parahippocampal cortex of monkeys. Journal of Neurophysiology, 90, 876–886, 2003]) and encodes speed, acceleration, or direction of hand movements, but only during the visuomotor task: neither during visual-only nor during motor tasks. These findings suggest a functional basis for the anatomical subpathway between the dorsal stream and the medial-temporal lobe. Similar to the recent expansion of the motor control process into the sensory cortex [Matyas, F., Sreenivasan, V., Marbach, F., Wacongne, C., Barsy, B., Mateo, C., et al. Motor control by sensory cortex. Science, 330, 1240–1243, 2010], our findings render the human medial-temporal lobe an important junction in the process of planning and execution of motor acts whether internally or externally (visually) driven. Thus, the medial-temporal lobe might serve as an integration node between the two processing streams. Our findings thus shed new light on the brain mechanisms underlying visuomotor coordination which is a crucial capacity for everyday survival, whether it is identifying and picking up food, sliding a key into a lock, driving a vehicle, or escaping a predator.

Genetic variation among loci in the genomes of diploid biparental organisms is the result of mutation and genetic transmission through the genealogy, or population pedigree, of the species. We explore the consequences of this for patterns of variation at unlinked loci for two kinds of demographic events: the occurrence of a very large family or a strong selective sweep that occurred in the recent past. The results indicate that only rather extreme versions of such events can be expected to structure population pedigrees in such a way that unlinked loci will show deviations from the standard predictions of population genetics, which average over population pedigrees. The results also suggest that large samples of individuals and loci increase the chance of picking up signatures of these events, and that very large families may have a unique signature in terms of sample distributions of mutant alleles.

In this paper, a reliable design strategy, capable of optimally picking out the geometrical parameters of the 3-RRR planar parallel manipulators, is presented. The distribution charts for singular loci and usable workspace shape are obtained in the non-dimensional design space. Based on the singularity-free workspace and good force transition capacity, the optimum kinematic parameters are determined by means of the global conditioning index. An example shows that the strategy is useful for realizing the singularity-free workspace optimally.

A comparative study of structural features of the blade castings having a single-crystal structure and made of heat-resistant carbon-free and carbon-containing high-temperature nickel alloys upon directional crystallization with 001 crystallographic orientation is carried out. The results of the effect of directional crystallization modes on the formation of the structure and defects of castings of working blades made of carbon-containing and carbon-free high-temperature nickel alloys are presented. Changes in the degree of pickling of the near-surface layer of casting are presented as a function of pickling conditions. The microstructure of the near-surface zone of castings made of ZhS32 heat-resistant alloy is studied after different modes of their technological processing. It is shown that blade castings with a single-crystal structure made of heat-resistant carbon-free superalloys have a tendency to formation of the block structure and appearance of surface recrystallized grains. Recommendations on the use of methods of nondestructive X-ray control of blades made of carbon-frees alloys and precautions regarding birth of microporosity on the shelf and in the blade lock are specified.

This paper draws on the work of Bourdieu to understand how experiences with dog ownership become embodied and how these experiences influence young people’s development as they leave home and learn to mobilize any capital to which they have access. Our results show that dogs can provide everyday routine during a stage in life when young people often experience instability. Additionally, dogs may help to shift the focus beyond self, thereby influencing how, and with whom, millennials spend their time. Nonetheless, balancing dog ownership with education, work, dating, social life, and other obligations could become challenging. Overall, this paper highlights that young people’s access to resources, including housing, may influence their capacities to experience all the benefits that pet ownership purports to offer. Dog ownership has numerous implications for healthy development among millennials, yet greater support may be needed to facilitate smoother transitions.

This paper draws on the work of Bourdieu to understand how experiences with dog ownership become embodied and how these experiences influence young people’s development as they leave home and learn to mobilize any capital to which they have access. Our results show that dogs can provide everyday routine during a stage in life when young people often experience instability. Additionally, dogs may help to shift the focus beyond self, thereby influencing how, and with whom, millennials spend their time. Nonetheless, balancing dog ownership with education, work, dating, social life, and other obligations could become challenging. Overall, this paper highlights that young people’s access to resources, including housing, may influence their capacities to experience all the benefits that pet ownership purports to offer. Dog ownership has numerous implications for healthy development among millennials, yet greater support may be needed to facilitate smoother transitions.

Connectivity solutions for the Internet of Things (IoT) aim to support the needs imposed by several applications or use cases across multiple sectors, such as logistics, agriculture, asset management, or smart lighting. Each of these applications has its own challenges to solve, such as dealing with large or massive networks, low and ultra-low latency requirements, long battery life requirements (i.e., more than ten years operation on battery), continuously monitoring of the location of certain nodes, security, and authentication. Hence, a part of picking a connectivity solution for a certain application depends on how well its features solve the specific needs of the end application. One key feature that we see as a need for future IoT networks is the ability to provide location-based information for large-scale IoT applications. The goal of this paper is to highlight the importance of positioning features for IoT applications and to provide means of comparing and evaluating different connectivity protocols in terms of their positioning capabilities. Our compact and unified analysis ends with several case studies, both simulation-based and measurement-based, which show that high positioning accuracy on low-cost low-power devices is feasible if one designs the system properly.

Genetic Structure of Isolated Vaccinium oxycoccus Populations in Lithuania The genetic population structure of the wild Cranberry Vaccinium oxycoccus was studied using RAPDs (random amplified polymorphic DNA). During the last century, intensive peat bogs drainage, regulation of water levels, and intensive cranberry picking has caused a risk for survival of wild cranberry Vaccinium oxycoccus populations in Lithuania. Genetic variation among and within isolated V. oxycoccus populations was investigated with RAPD profiles. Fifty-six clones were sampled in four populations at the Čepkeliai, Žuvintas, Kamanos Reserves and Aukštaitijos National Park. RAPD analyses of nine primers showed 213 polymorphic loci in the samples. The polymorphism level in the Čepkeliai rezerve population was 56.34%, in Žuvintas 49.77%, in Kamanos 46.95% and in Aukštatija 43.19%. Polymorphism among populations was 100%. For the total sample group, Shannon's Information Index was 0.2 and Nei's gene diversity 0.12. The estimated total proportion of diversity among populations (GST) and gene flow (Nm) were 0.14 and 3.1, respectively. The UPGMA analyses have revealed that populations of V. oxycoccus are clearly separated into four lineages and only one Čepkeliai lineage had a homogenous haplotype. Others Žuvintas, Kamanos and Aukštatijos lineages differed from each other. One clone sampled from Aukštatija National Park (a8) had a unique haplotype.

Early efforts in physiological research in the United States were produced by lone investigators working in laboratories funded by their own medical practices. In Europe, however, Claude Bernard and Carl Ludwig produced a new model of scientific research laboratories funded by the state that sought to develop the pursuit of biomedical research as an occupation. American physicians such as Henry Pickering Bowditch and S. Weir Mitchell were exposed to this new “research ethic” during their international studies and brought this new perspective home to America. Along with H. Newell Martin, these men began training professional physiologists who would assume new research positions in academic institutions. In 1887, Bowditch, Mitchell, and H. Newell Martin proposed the formation of a new society for these professional physiologists, the American Physiological Society (APS). Seventeen of the original twenty-eight members met on December 30, 1887, in New York City, NY, to establish APS. From these humble beginnings, APS evolved to become a force for change in American biomedical science.

We investigated how the quality of blackberry fruit changes during the ripening period. Since it is difficult to predict picking dates for blackberries, we were interested in how the quality of fully ripe fruit changed depending on the sampling date (from 28 July to 1 September). Blackberries (at full ripeness) were sampled at six weekly intervals and the contents of sugars, vitamin C, organic acids and phenolic components were analysed by high performance liquid chromatography combined with mass spectrometry. The colour parameters, total soluble solids and weight of the fruits were also measured. The results showed that the fruits at the last sampling had a significantly lower fruit weight and higher soluble solids. ‘Cacanska Bestrna’ had the highest fruit weight and vitamin C content (11.43 mg/100 g). The main sugars in blackberries were fructose (13.8–33.4 g/kg FW) and glucose (13.0–33.2 g/kg FW). ‘Loch Ness’ and ‘Navaho’ had a sweeter taste since they had the highest ratio of sugars and acids (S/A approx. 5.8) and ‘Smoothstem’ and ‘Thornfree’ had the sourest taste, with a ratio of S/A 2.5. Blackberries harvested at the first two samplings had lower anthocyanin contents than fruits from later sampling times. There were no significant differences in the content of flavonols, ellagitannins, flavanols or hydroxycinnamic acids during the ripening period. The content of vitamin C in the fruits did not change among samplings, but the fruits had a higher content of organic acids at the first two or three samplings. The results may be useful for both the processing industry and growers to set quality standards for each variety and to determine the optimal harvest time.

Introduction. In resolving the problem of biodiversity conservation of genetic resources of animals, the in-depth characterization of the gene pool of rocks in the global program, which was initiated by the Commission on Animal Genetic Resources of FAO in 1993, attaches great importance. In accordance with this program, FAO recommends analyzing the diversity of pets in collaboration with the International Society of Genetics (ISAG).In the prominent place in the characterization of genetic resources of animals are genetic markers, which include polymorphisms of erythrocytic antigens (blood groups). Immunogenetic analysis of breeds under factors that until now have not been the objects of breeding and were not subject to directed action of a person, gives an objective idea about the peculiarities of rocks in terms of their history, genealogical connections between them, their similarities and differentiations, and also about the gene pool of cattle as a separate species. At the immunogenetic monitoring in the system of conservation of biodiversity of the animal world of the planet in the context of agricultural production is the solution to a number of problems, both at the population and individual level. At the population level, the immunogenic analysis is mainly aimed at assessing the genetic situation in gene pool herds, making it possible to make an objective notion about genetic changes in the gene pool of aboriginal and disappearing small-numbered rocks under the influence of natural and artificial selection. The preliminary results of the analysis of the genetic situation in the flock of the White-headed Ukrainian breed clearly indicate that at the present stage of evolution it has a certain originality and specificity for polymorphic loci of immunogenic markers and a sufficiently high level of genetic diversity of animals. On the one hand, the high frequency of the specific BGT2G'B'', BGI1OTYG'Q', YY' alleles EAB blood groups and their manifestation for several generations is clearly observed in the breed, which gives grounds for linking them with high adaptive value. Therefore, maintaining the focus of natural selection with the appropriate artificial way of selecting the parent pairs that bear the bearers of these specific markers is important enough. Purpose of work. Determination of predicted genotypes according to the EAB system of blood groups in embryos of the cattle Whiteheaded Ukrainian breed, laid for long-term storage at the Bank of animal genetic resources of IABG nd. a. M.V.Zubets of NAAS. Materials and methods of research. For the analysis, blood samples were taken from 5 dairy cows of the Whiteheaded Ukrainian breed of LLC "Podilskyi hospodar" at Khmelnitska oblast, from which embryos were obtained using 3 bulls (721 Sygnal’s, 235 Orel’s and 561 Neapol’s) for fertilization of the sperm stored in the Bank of animal genetic resources of IABG nd. a. M.V.Zubets of NAAS and their genotypes were determined according to the EAB system of blood groups. Determination of the genotype of half of the dairy cows by the EAB system of blood groups was conducted at the Institute of Animal Breeding and Genetics nd. a. M.V.Zubets of NAAS in accordance with the Instruction on the immunogenetic studies of pedigree animals. To evaluate the inheritance of blood groups in embryos, the materials of previous studies on immunogenetic testing of Whiteheaded Ukrainian breed pedigrees by alleles of the EAB system of blood groups were also taken into account. The prognosis of possible embryonic genotypes in the EAB system by blood groups was determined based on the analysis of the inheritance of the alleles of parents and donor cows with their binding to the genotypes of their parents. Research results. An immunogenetic analysis of 5 cows donor Whiteheaded Ukrainian breed for erythrocytic antigens of the EAB blood group was carried out and their genotypes were established to confirm the authenticity of their origin. Naturally, the allelofund on the EAB system of blood groups of donor cows is full of alleles of their fathers – 263 Som, 629 Plus, 235 Orel and 447 Zond. A genealogical analysis of 30 embryos of the Whiteheaded Ukrainian breed, laid for long-term storage at the bank of animal genetic resources of the IABG nd. a. M.V.Zubets of NAAS, and structured individual pedigrees for the prediction of the inheritance of their possible genotypes by the EAB system of blood groups according to the given scheme. Directional targeting can provide embryos with a possible combination of specific markers of donor mothers and fathers. For this purpose, the schemes of directed heirs with the use of the 721 Sygnal’s genotype EAB BGI1OT2G'B''G/BG'KYO, 235 Orel’s – EAB G'G'/BGT2G'P'B''G'' and 561 Neapol’s – EAB BGT2G'P'B''G'/YA'Y'. Two daughters of 263 Som’s 9333 Nadra and 9318 Vyshka cows – carriers of identical genotypes, inherited the genus allele EAВYQ'. Accordingly, when selection to them the bull’s 721 Sygnal is expected to receive heterozygous descendants. They can inherit the marker genotype EABI1Q'/BGI1OT2G'B''G'' with a probability of 25%. In the genotype of the 3676 Naryadna cow, missing marker alleles are characteristic of the breed. Therefore, when picking up the 721 Sygnal pedigree, it is desirable to inherit the descendants of the genotypes EAB YA'Y'/BGI1OTG'B''G' and EAB G'G'/BGI1OTG'B''G''. For picking up a cow 3843 Norka of the 721 Orel sire is expected to obtain all possible heterozygous descendants. For this combination, the inheritance of the marker allele EAB BGT2G'P'B''G' is predicted. In the selection of the cow 0064 Baronesa of the 561 Neapol’s, the homozygous descendants with genotype EABBGT2G'P'B''G'/BGT2G'P'B''G' are expected to be obtained. From such a combination of parent pairs descendants will inherit all possible variants of genotypes with specific markers for the breed. As a result of the targeted selection of parent pairs in the embryos of the Whiteheaded Ukrainian breed, inheritance in the genotypes of descendants of alleles is expected: BGT2G'P'B''G'', BGI1OTG'B''G'', BG'KYO, YQ', G'G'', YA'Y' and b on the EAB system of blood groups. They can be homozygous and heterozygous and can inherit markers for allele breeds in their genotypes. Conclusions. An immunogenetic analysis of cow donor animals of the Whiteheaded Ukrainian breed, from which embryos were obtained and laid down for long-term storage at the Bank of animal genetic resources of the Institute of Animal Breeding and Genetics nd. a. M.V.Zubets of NAAS, indicates that they are carriers of EAB – specific alleles specific for the given breed of blood grops, and at the same time there is a rather high level of genetic diversity of animals. In determining the predicted genotypes on the EAB system, blood groups in the embryos of the cattle Whiteheaded Ukrainian breed based on the analysis of the possible inheritance of alleles from parents and donor cows, predicts a rather high genetic variability inheritance of embryos specific for breed genotypes, which is sufficiently important to maintain genetic diversity in breed by using an artificial selection of parent pairs.

Обстоятельства помешали научному редактору номера – Елене Георгиевне Гребенщиковой – написать предисловие. В нашем молодом журнале есть уже своя традиция: научный редактор предваряет номер концептуальной преамбулой к статьям, посвященных обсуждению различных аспектов одной проблемы. Авторов данного номера объединяют исследовательские и организационные обстоятельства. Все мы были вовлечены в исследовательское поле биоэтики Борисом Григорьевичем Юдиным. Привлечение же методологических потенциалов семиотики для решения задач биоэтики произошло на «томской почве» как результат организации серий конференций. Эти серии стартовали с конференции «Антропологические основания биоэтики», которая, по словам Б.Г. Юдина, была первой в России научной конференцией «по биоэтике». Основные доклады этой научной встречи составили содержание номера журнала «Бюллетень сибирской медицины». Среди его публикаций были две статьи, определившее дальнейшее, – «Чтоб сказку сделать былью? (Конструирование человека)» [Юдин 2006] и «Тело страдания: философско-антропологическое истолкование» [Тищенко 2006]. Слова «Конструирование человека» дали случайным образом название ряду конференций, проводимых Томским государственным педагогическим университетом. Специализация указанного университета понятным образом привлекла к участию коллег-педагогов, интерпретировавших слово «конструирование» в качестве указания на суть образования. Было любопытно наблюдать такую стихийно складывающуюся прагматику с учетом различий русскоязычного и англоязычного названия статьи [Юдин 2006] – словами «Чтоб сказку сделать былью?», заканчивающими вопросительным знаком цитату из песни о цели рождения советского человека, и «To make a dream true?», где под вопрос ставилась возможность мечтой-иллюзией заменить действительность. Поскольку организаторы конференции испытывают некоторую зависимость от тематики заявляемых докладов, для «чистой» биоэтики была создана отдельная секция «Тело и власть», название которой стало парафразом другой упомянутой статьи [Тищенко 2006]. Параллельно с серией конференций «Конструирование человека» был организован ряд конференций «Системы и модели: границы интерпретаций», акцентировавших не столько биоэтику, сколько постнеклассическую парадигму семиотического моделирования. Слова «системы и модели» цитировали название известной в семиотике книги А.А. Шарова и Ю.А.Шрейдера; фиксировали проблему нахождения пределов применимости математических моделей в синергетике; приглашали к обсуждению системной методологии. Слова «границы интерпретаций» изначально определяли соотношение герменевтики и семиотики в методологии исследования социокультурной динамики. Замечу, что географическое образование заставляло меня трактовать понятие «границы» исключительно в семиотическом ракурсе. Доклады, представленные на первой конференции «Системы и модели: границы интерпретаций», составили номер журнала «Вестник Томского государственного педагогического университета» (2008, № 1), из содержания которого ясно, что эта научная встреча была посвящена обсуждению наследия Эрика Григорьевича Юдина и современному прочтению его версии системного подхода. В этом номере есть много заслуживающих внимания материалов, но для определения области пересечения биоэтики и семиотики, необходимо назвать статью Р.Г. Апресяна [Апресян 2008], хотя в самой статье отсутствует прямое обращение и к семиотике, и к биоэтике. В статье лаконично и предметно установлены ценностные границы локусов модели «этический квадрат», созданной Р.Г. Апресяном. Ясность изложения [Апресян 2008] позволила разглядеть сразу несколько моментов, объединяющих и разделяющих биоэтику с педагогикой. Настороженность биоэтики вызывает любое воззвание превзойти норму, а любая педагогика взывает к тому, чтобы превзойти норму. Общность биоэтики и педагогики составляет распределение символики ролей для всех своих субъектов, подчиненное коммуникативным форматам, устанавливающих пределы допустимого/отвергаемого внутри коммуникативных ареалов. Выяснение этой общности позволило увидеть, что модели биоэтики, по сути, формируют синтаксис коммуникативных ролей субъектов биомедицины. Причем, фиксируют эти роли или в индексах, или в иконических знаках, или даже в символах. Генезис биоэтики есть ответ на социальный запрос в необходимости «сторожа» (в смысле: «…пойди, поставь сторожа; пусть он сказывает, что увидит») для предотвращения моральных катаклизмов, вызываемых темпом прогресса (в чем бы он не выражался) и соблазнами прогресса. Темп трансформаций порождает неопределенность социальных сценариев, а, следовательно, технику биоэтических экспертиз диктует синхрония и абдукция, что явно служит указателем релевантности концепции семиозиса, созданной Ч.С. Пирсом. Семиотическая сущность решения задач биоэтики была увидена столь четко, что удивление вызывало только одно: почему биоэтика, потенциально обладая «ключом» методов семиотики, подбирает «отмычки» для анализа спонтанно возникающих кейсов? Подчеркну, что упомянутый «ключ» открывает «двери», не столько ведущие к анализу нарративов субъектов, нормативных дискурсов и уже случившихся кейсов, сколько к прогностике кейсов в синхронии с меняющимся контекстом. Вместе с тем представленные резоны для обоснования того, что методы семиотики обладают релевантностью для решения задач биоэтики, могут встретить вопрос: зачем биоэтике применять эти методы, если она и без них прекрасно решает свои задачи? Возможным ответом на этот вопрос будет – для того чтобы осуществить точную и опережающую диагностику социокультурных трансформаций, способных вызвать и уже вызывающих модификацию «человеческого в человеке», т.е. вызывающих скольжение границ нормы. Излишне объяснять преимущества диагностики в качестве процедуры с точным результатом, способным опередить наступление необратимых состояний. Семиотические методы устремлены к достижению точности, и их применение объединяет всё гуманитарное знание. При этом семиотика сама существует в нескольких конкурирующих направлениях, и ее исследовательские методы очень отличаются в конкретных научных областях, в том числе и тех, которые составляют «computer science», ответственных за тотальную «цифровизацию» и самоорганизацию «информационного общества». У перечисленных сущностей – точности, самоорганизации, семиотики, «computer science» и даже «цифровизации» – есть идейный общий знаменатель: философия процесса. Создатель философии процесса – А.Н. Уайтхед – видел ее результат в оригинальной концепции символизма, обладающей сущностными пересечениями с концепцией семиозиса Ч.С. Пирса. Если концепция семиозиса раскрывала микропроцессы, обеспечивающие самопроизвольный «рост символов», то концепция А.Н. Уайтхеда устанавливала направления воздействий этого «роста» и основной оператор воздействия: навык организаций «революций в символизме». А также критерии, по которым можно диагностировать событие «перекодирования» символа, т.е. отличить его от того, что событийным рождением нового символизма не является. Т.е. диагностировать дистанцию, отделяющую «событие-в-действительности» от «события-в-реальности». А, следовательно, диагностировать генезисы и цели идейных направлений «конструирования человека». Или диагностировать «семиотические аттракторы», завершающие фазовые переходы в конкуренции сценариев социокультурной динамики. В социокультурных трансформациях сила аттракторов аналогична силе мечты (вспомним слово «dream» в названии статьи [Юдин 2006]). Мечты, имеющей две стороны, – миф и утопию. Биоэтика как «сторож» социокультурных трансформаций вынуждена распознавать миф и утопию в манипуляции целями. Жизненными целями. Целями, диктующими вариативную селекцию ценностей. В феномене мечты и в его воплощениях – в мифе и в утопии – отсутствуют позитив или негатив. Всё зависит, с какой целью им придаются. Зависит от разновидности процессов: процесса рецепции символики мифа с компенсаторными целями или процесса акцептации символических асимптот с целями cамореализации [Брызгалина 2020; Бараш, Антоновский 2019; Шульман, Кутузова 2020]. Обладание представлениями о «росте символов» способно из наблюдаемых мерцаний визуального «вытянуть» то, что скрывают внешние эффекты – осуществить семиотическую диагностику на основе аналогий между симптомами и семантикой, синдромами и синтактикой, анамнезом (в сочетании с целеполаганием) и прагматикой. Такая диагностика создает область пересечения биоэтики и семиотики. Область формируют: (а) изначальные позиции биоэтики в её прагматической концентрации трансдисциплинарного знания для разрешения конкретной проблемы индивидуальности (с сочувственным принятием веера индивидуальных целей); и (б) постнеклассические преимущества семиотики, эффективно реализующие свои потенциалы в расширяющемся трансдисциплинарном поле. В завершении должна выразить благодарность Р.Г. Апресяну, П.Д. Тищенко, Б.Г.Юдину за их щедрые разъяснения существа задач биоэтики, что позволило увидеть эти задачи посредством «оптических» инструментов семиотики. И благодарность всем авторам этого номера за интерес к семиотике, проявленный на основе глубокого понимания решаемых в настоящее время биоэтикой задач и/или оригинальной постановкой этих задач. Circumstances prevented the scientific editor of the issue – Elena G. Grebenshchikova – from writing a foreword. Our young journal already has its own tradition: a scientific editor prefaces an issue with a conceptual preamble to articles discussing various aspects of one problem. The authors of this issue are united by research and organizational circumstances. We were all involved in the research field of bioethics by Boris G. Yudin. Implementation of the methodological potentials of semiotics for solving the problems of bioethics was begun on “Tomsk grounds” as a result of the organization of several conference series. These series started with the conference “Anthropological Foundations of Bioethics”, which, according to Yudin, was the first scientific conference “on bioethics” in Russia. The main reports of this scientific meeting became the content of an issue of Bulletin of Siberian Medicine journal. Among the publications in the issue, there were two articles that determined the further development – “To make a dream true? (Human engineering)” [Yudin 2006] and “The body of suffering: The philosophical and anthropological interpretation” [Tishchenko 2006]. The words “human engineering” (or “human construction”) incidentally gave a title to a number of conferences held by Tomsk State Pedagogical University. The specialization of this university understandably attracted the participation of fellow educators, who interpreted the word “construction” as an indication of the essence of education. It was curious to observe such a spontaneously emerging pragmatism, taking into account the differences between the Russian and English versions of the article title [Yudin 2006] – i.e. between the words “To make a fairy tale come true?” ending with a question mark a quote from a song about the purpose of the Soviet person’s birth and “To make a dream true?” calling the possibility to replace the reality by a dream-illusion into question. Since conference organizers experience some dependence on the subject of submitted reports, a separate section “Body and Power” was created for “pure” bioethics, and the title of the section became a paraphrase of another mentioned article [Tishchenko 2006]. In parallel with the series of conferences “Human Construction”, a number of conferences “Systems and Models: Limits of Interpretation” were organized, which emphasized the post-nonclassical paradigm of semiotic modeling rather than bioethics itself. The words “systems and models” quoted the title of the well-known book in semiotics by A. A. Sharov and Yu. A. Shreider; fixed the problem of finding the limits of applicability of mathematical models in synergetics; invited to discuss the system methodology. The words “limits of interpretation” initially determined the relationship between hermeneutics and semiotics in the methodology of sociocultural dynamics study. I note that the geographical education background forced me to interpret the concept “limit”, or “border”, exclusively from a semiotic perspective. The reports presented at the first conference “Systems and Models: Limits of Interpretation” made up an issue of the Tomsk State Pedagogical University Bulletin journal (2008, No. 1). From the content of the issue it is clear that this scientific meeting was devoted to the discussion of the legacy of Eric G. Yudin and the modern interpretation of his version of the systems approach. The issue contains many noteworthy materials; however, in order to define the area of the intersection of bioethics and semiotics, it is necessary to highlight the article by Ruben G. Apressyan [Apressyan 2008], although the article itself lacks a direct reference to either semiotics or bioethics. The article laconically and substantively establishes the value boundaries of the loci of the “ethical square” model that Apressyan created. The clarity of presentation [Apressyan 2008] made it possible to discern simultaneously several points that unite and separate bioethics and pedagogy. The alertness of bioethics evokes any appeal to surpass the norm, while any pedagogy calls to surpass the norm. The commonality of bioethics and pedagogy is the distribution of the symbolism of roles for all their subjects, subordinated to communicative formats which set the limits of what is permissible/rejected within communicative areas. The elucidation of this commonality made it possible to see that the models of bioethics, in fact, form the syntax of the communicative roles of the subjects of biomedicine. Moreover, these models define the roles either in indices, or in iconic signs, or even in symbols. The genesis of bioethics is a response to the social demand for a “watchman” (in the sense: “Go, set a watchman, let him declare what he seeth”) to prevent moral cataclysms caused by the pace of progress (whatever it is expressed in) and the temptations of progress. The pace of transformations gives rise to the uncertainty of social scenarios, and, consequently, the technique of bioethical examinations is dictated by synchrony and abduction, which clearly serves as an indicator of the relevance of the concept of semiosis created by Charles Sanders Peirce. The semiotic essence of solving the problems of bioethics was seen so clearly that only one thing aroused surprise: why does bioethics, potentially possessing the “key” of semiotics methods, select “lock-picking tools” for the analysis of spontaneously arising cases? Let me emphasize that the mentioned “key” opens “doors” that do not lead to the analysis of narratives of subjects, normative discourses and cases that have already happened, but to the forecasting of cases in synchrony with the changing context. At the same time, the presented reasons for substantiating the fact that the methods of semiotics are relevant for solving the problems of bioethics may face the question: why should bioethics apply these methods if it perfectly solves its problems without them? A possible answer to this question would be – in order to carry out accurate and advanced diagnostics of sociocultural transformations that can cause and are already causing a modification of the “human in a human being”, i.e. causing the sliding of norm boundaries. It is unnecessary to explain the advantages of diagnostics as a procedure with an accurate result that can anticipate the onset of irreversible conditions. Semiotic methods are aimed at achieving accuracy, and their application unites all humanitarian knowledge. At that, semiotics itself exists in several competing directions, and its research methods are very different in specific scientific fields, including those that make up “computer science” which is responsible for the total “digitalization” and self-organization of an “information society”. The listed entities – accuracy, self-organization, semiotics, “computer science”, and even “digitalization” – have an ideological common denominator: process philosophy. The creator of process philosophy – Alfred North Whitehead – saw its result in the original concept of symbolism, which has essential intersections with Peirce’s concept of semiosis. While the concept of semiosis revealed microprocesses that ensured the spontaneous “growth of symbols”, Whitehead’s concept established the directions of the impact of this “growth” and the main operator of the impact: the skill of organizing “revolutions in symbolism” as well as the criteria by which one can diagnose the occasion of “re-coding” of a symbol, i.e. distinguish the occasion from the fact that is not the eventual birth of a new symbolism, or diagnose the distance separating the “occasion-in-actuality” from the “occasion-in-reality”, and, consequently, diagnose the geneses and goals of the ideological directions of “human construction”, or “semiotic attractors” that complete phase transitions in the competition of sociocultural dynamics scenarios. In sociocultural transformations, the power of attractors is similar to the power of a dream (recalling the word “dream” from the article title [Yudin 2006]), a dream that has two sides – myth and utopia. Bioethics as a “watchman” of sociocultural transformations is forced to recognize myth and utopia in the manipulation of goals: life goals, goals dictating variable selection of values. There is neither the positive nor the negative in the phenomenon of dreams and its incarnations – myth and utopia. It all depends on what goals are being pursued. It depends on the variety of processes: process of the reception of the symbolics of a myth with compensatory goals, or of the acceptance of symbolic asymptotes with the goals of self-realization [Bryzgalina 2020; Barash, Antonovskiy 2019; Schulman, Kutuzova 2020]. Possession of ideas about the “growth of symbols” is capable to reveal what external effects hide, extracting it from the observed flickers of the visual – to carry out semiotic diagnostics based on analogies between symptoms and semantics, syndromes and syntactics, anamnesis (in combination with goal-setting) and pragmatics. Such diagnostics create an area of intersection of bioethics and semiotics. The area is formed by: (a) the initial position of bioethics in its pragmatic concentration of transdisciplinary knowledge for solving a specific problem of individuality (with a sympathetic acceptance of a set of individual goals); and (b) the post-nonclassical advantages of semiotics which effectively realize their potentials in the expanding transdisciplinary field. In conclusion, I would like to express my gratitude to Ruben G. Apressyan, Pavel D. Tishchenko, Boris G. Yudin for their generous explanations of the essence of the tasks of bioethics, which made it possible to see these tasks through the “optical” instruments of semiotics. I thank all the authors of this issue for their interest in semiotics demonstrated through the deep understanding of the problems currently being solved by bioethics and/or the original formulation of these problems.

Nasal saline irrigation is a simple easy-to-do procedure that has been used to treat sinus and nasal conditions for many years. Wingrave in his 1902 paper “The Nature of Discharges & Douches” discussed cleansing of the nasal passages as an important method of treating different nasal illnesses in the last part of the 19th century.1 Nasal saline irrigation has been used for such sinonasal conditions as atrophic rhinitis, rhinosinusitis and allergic rhinitis, among infants with nasal problems and patients who have undergone endoscopic sinus surgery. Past recommendations for use were based on anecdotal evidence such as reports of patients living near the sea, whose symptoms improved with natural seawater irrigation while swimming. The past two decades saw studies undertaken to support what has been in practice for many years. Taccariello studied 40 patients suffering from chronic sinusitis with 19 patients receiving traditional alkaline nasal douche and 21 patients receiving sterile sea water spray. Results showed that compared to the control group who received no treatment, douching per se improved endoscopic appearance and quality of life scores.2 Georgitis compared the use of nasal hyperthermia versus saline irrigation in patients with allergic rhinitis. Histamine levels fell with both forms of treatment with greatest declines seen with irrigation. Leukotriene C4 levels were significantly reduced by irrigation.3 Pediatricians have refrained from using oral and topical decongestants among infants. Excessive use of oral decongestants can result in cardiovascular side effects, while excessive use and sufficient absorption of topical decongestants can result in possible complications of CNS depression leading to coma and marked reduction in body temperature, especially in infants in whom these drugs should not be used.4 Nasal saline irrigation has become a good alternative. Another common use follows endoscopic sinus surgery, when the nasal cavity quickly becomes encrusted, and frequent cleaning and saline irrigation are needed for 4-8 weeks until the lining of the nose and sinuses has regenerated.5 Nasal saline irrigation moisturizes the nasal cavity and reduces dryness of the nasal mucosa. It has become important in clearing nasal crusts and thick mucous in patients with rhinosinusitis and has been known for its beneficial effect among patients with sinonasal problems. Saline solutions can be classified into isotonic or hypertonic, buffered or non-buffered. Preparations include powder, spray or mist forms; with and without preservative; and with and without dispenser. The number of available products in the market can make it difficult for the doctor to decide on what product to recommend for his suffering patient, ranging from inexpensive home-made preparations to very expensive imported solutions. Different studies will be presented which may help in this choice. Isotonic or hypertonic solution The main issue at hand is whether to use an isotonic or hypertonic solution. Traissac from the University ENT Hospital – Bordeaux, in a study of 410 patients using isotonic solution, showed the beneficial action on the nasal sinus mucosa in medical disease and after sugery.6 Tomooka (University of California, 2000) in a study of 211 patients using hypertonic saline solution, showed improvement in 23 of the 30 symptoms queried.7 Talbot, in 1997, demonstrated among 21 volunteers that 3% hypertonic saline solution decreased mucociliary saccharine transit times more than 0.9% normal saline, 3.1 minutes compared to 0.14 minutes less than baseline.8 This study was corroborated by Keojampa in 2004, demonstrating that buffered hypertonic saline improved saccharine clearance time more than buffered normal saline.9 Hypertonic saline solution decreases the viscosity of mucus which could have improved saccharine clearance time. However, it has been suggested that the saccharin dissolution method provides a less accurate assessment of mucociliary clearance against tagged insoluble particles, as the saccharin mixes between sol and gel layers of the mucociliary blanket and is not carried solely in the superficial gel layer.8 Boek from the University Hospital Utrecht studied the effect of different saline solutions on the ciliary beat frequency (CBF) of cryopreserved mucosa of the sphenoidal sinus measured by a photoelectric method. Results revealed that Locke-Ringer’s solution (LR) had no effect on the CBF, NaCI 0.9% had a moderately negative effect, NaCI 7% solution led to complete ciliostasis within 5 minutes (reversible after rinsing with LR), and 14.4% hypertonic solution had an irreversible ciliostatic effect. He concluded that LR is an isotonic solution with no effect on ciliary beat frequency.10 Therefore, it is probable that this solution is more appropriate than saline for nasal irrigation or antral lavage. This was further supported by the study of Min YG published in 2001, wherein isotonic and hypotonic solutions did not decrease ciliary beat frequency, but where ciliostasis was observed within a few minutes in the 3.0% and 7.0% solutions.11 Histologic changes showed disruption of nasal epithelial cells in vitro which could have resulted in decrease ciliary beat frequency in hypertonic solutions. Buffered or non-buffered solution The effect of pH on the rate of mucociliary clearance of the douching solution was also studied. One group was given hypertonic solution buffered to pH 8 and another group given non-buffered hypertonic solution.12 Results showed no difference in mucociliary clearance between solutions buffered to pH 8 and that which is non-buffered.12 In his paper, Taccariello noted that alkaline nasal douche improved endoscopic appearance but not the quality of life score, while sea water spray showed improved quality of life but not endoscopic appearance.2 Preparations Preparations for nasal saline irrigation in the market include powder which can be freshly prepared for use or ready-to-use spray or mist solutions which need preservatives to extend shelf life. Common preservatives are benzalkonium chloride, polyethylene glycol and propylene glycol. Bezalkonium chloride is an antibacterial preservative which may be potentially toxic to the mucosa. Krayenbuhl and Seppey (1995) compared application of a saline stream versus drops (passive saline instillation) among 104 patients who underwent intranasal surgeries. Stream patients required significantly fewer post-operative recovery days and visits to physicians. The recovery period with saline stream was 18.9 days versus 36.7 days using saline drops.5 Nasal saline preparations available in the local market include isotonic drops, isotonic and hypertonic sprays, and isotonic seawater sprays. Parsons in 1996 presented a recipe for patients to prepare their own nasal saline solution:8 Carefully clean and rinse a 1-quart glass jar. Fill the jar with tap water. Add 2 to 3 heaping teaspoons of “pickling/canning” salt. Add 1 rounded teaspoon of baking soda (pure bicarbonate). Stir and shake well before use. Store at room temperature. This will result in a 3% saline solution buffered to pH 7.6. If the mixture is too strong and results in a stinging effect in the nose, less salt (1 ½ tsp of salt) can be used. For children, it is best to start with a weaker salt water mixture which can be gradually increased in tonicity. Ordinary rock salt is used since iodine in iodized salt can be toxic to the nasal mucosa. A soft plastic catsup container can be used as a dispenser. The nose can be liberally irrigated 2-3 times per day. Nasal saline irrigation has been safely used by both children and adults with no documented serious side effects. Different studies have shown that both isotonic and hypertonic nasal saline irrigations have beneficial effects in many sinonasal conditions. The exact mechanism by which improvement is effected is unclear.7 Hypotheses for why nasal saline irrigation promotes improvement of nasal symptoms include the following: improving mucociliary clearance decreasing mucosal edema decreasing inflammatory mediators mechanically clearing nasal crusts and thick mucous The choice of which nasal saline solution to use depends on the physician and is mainly based on which studies he or she will believe in. Whether to recommend a saline solution prepared by the patient at home or saline solutions that are commercially available is really up to the doctor. Commercial solutions have the advantage of being sterile. Saline prepared at home is cheaper, but sterility may not be guaranteed and the percentage of tonicity may be variable. Although several studies have shown that hypertonic saline solutions improve saccharine transit time, other studies have likewise shown that hypertonic saline solutions affect ciliary beat frequency negatively. For this reason, isotonic saline solutions which do not affect ciliary beat frequency may be more appropriate than hypertonic saline solution for nasal irrigation. However, we cannot discount the mucolytic effect induced by the hyperosmolarity of hypertonic solutions which could have improved saccharine transit time. Further studies can be undertaken to finally determine which solution, isotonic or hypertonic, would be better to use as nasal saline irrigation for the different sinonasal disorders.

This article examines the adaptability of burglars and tactical displacement in Ankara, the capital of Turkey, as part of an ‘arms race’ escalating in response to the sophistication of offensive and preventive measures. It describes the current method of picking deadbolt locks on steel doors inside apartment buildings, a procedure requiring a more complicated and collaborative effort. Following a Bourdieusian criminological reading determining the script and resources of a group of active offenders that function as criminal capital, this article reveals that recently, residential burglary has been displaced from the ‘outside’ to the ‘inside’ of multi-storey apartment buildings due to the proliferation of CCTV, alarm systems and spotlights. Ethnographic findings suggest that a decade ago burgling a residence was far easier for most offenders than it would be today, with numerous similarities in the script of offenders in the non-Western and Western contexts.

AbstractWe agree with Branigan & Pickering (B&P) that structural priming experiments should supplant grammaticality judgments for testing linguistic representation. However, B&P overlook a vast (corpus-)linguistic literature that converges with – but extends – the experimental findings. B&P conclude that syntax is functionally independent of the lexicon. We argue that a broader approach to priming reveals cracks in the façade of syntactic autonomy.

The article explores how social interaction is accomplished through intertwined verbal and bodily conduct, focusing on directive actions that include a second-person imperative form of the Finnish verb katsoa “to look,” typically kato. The study draws on video recordings of various outdoor activities in nature, mostly from family interaction with small children, and employs interactional linguistics and conversation analysis as its analytic framework. The directive kato actions in focus are produced (1) as noticings, to initiate a new course of action by directing the recipient to look at and possibly talk about a target that the speaker treats as newsworthy; (2) as showings, to initiate an evaluative course of action by directing the recipient to look at and align with the speaker’s stance toward the target; or (3) as prompts, to contribute to an ongoing course of action by directing the recipient to do something relevant to or with the target. Apart from the use of kato, the actions differ in their design. In noticings, the target is typically named verbally and pointed at through embodied means, but the participants remain at some distance from it (e.g., kato muurahaispesä tuossa “look an anthill there”). In showings, the participant producing the action typically approaches the recipient with the target in hand, so that the naming of the target is not necessary but, by evaluating the target themselves, the shower explicates how the target should be seen (e.g., kato kuinka jättejä “look how giant {ones}”). In prompts, neither the target nor the intended action is named, but the target is typically indicated by embodied means, for example, by the participants’ approaching and pointing at it, and the intended action is inferable from the participants’ prior conduct (e.g., kato tuossa “look there” and pointing at a berry in the participants’ vicinity when berry picking has been established as relevant). By examining these three grammar-body assemblages, the article uncovers regularities in the co-occurrence of multiple modalities and contributes to new understandings of language use in its natural ecology – in co-present social interaction.

Saturday, 24 July 1971, Tower Mill Hotel The man jiggles the brick, gauges its weight. His stout hand, a flash of his watch dial, the sleeve rolled back, muscles on the upper arm bundled tight. His face half-erased by the dark. There’s something going on beneath the surface that Murray can’t grasp. He thinks of the three witches in Polanski’s Macbeth, huddled together on the beach, digging a circle in the sand with bare hands, unwrapping their filthy bundle. A ritual. The brick’s in the air and it’s funny but Murray expected it to spin but it doesn’t, it holds its position, arcs forward, as though someone’s taken the sky and pulled it sideways to give the impression of movement, like those chase scenes in the Punch and Judy shows you don’t see anymore. The brick hits the cement and fractures. Red dust on cops’ shined shoes. Murray feels the same sense of shock he’d felt, sitting in the sagging canvas seat at one of his film nights, recognising the witches’ bundle, a severed human arm, hacked off just before the elbow; both times looking so intently, he had no distance or defence when the realisation came. ‘What is it?’ says Lan. Murray points to the man who threw the brick but she is looking the other way, at a cop in a white riot helmet, head like a globe, swollen up as though bitten. Lan stands on Murray’s feet to see. The pig yells through a megaphone: ‘You’re occupying too much of the road. It’s illegal. Step back. Step back.’ Lan’s back is pressed against Murray’s stomach; her bum fits snugly to his groin. He resists the urge to plant his cold hands on her warm stomach, to watch her squirm. She turns her head so her mouth is next to his ear, says, ‘Don’t move.’ She sounds winded, her voice without force. He’s pinned to the ground by her feet. Again, ‘Step back. Step back.’ Next to him, Roger begins a chant. ‘Springboks,’ he yells, the rest of the crowd picking up the chant, ‘out now!’ ‘Springboks!’ ‘Out now!’ Murray looks up, sees a hand pressed against the glass in one of the hotel’s windows, quickly withdrawn. The hand belongs to a white man, for sure. It must be one of the footballers, although the gesture is out of keeping with his image of them. Too timid. He feels tired all of a sudden. But Jacobus Johannes Fouché’s voice is in his head, these men—the Springboks—represent the South African way of life, and the thought of the bastard Bjelke inviting them here. He, Roger and Lan were there the day before when the footballers pulled up outside the Tower Mill Hotel in a black and white bus. ‘Can you believe the cheek of those bastards?’ said Roger when they saw them bounding off the bus, legs the span of Murray’s two hands. A group of five Nazis had been lined up in front of the glass doors reflecting the city, all in uniform: five sets of white shirts and thin black ties, five sets of khaki pants and storm-trooper boots, each with a red sash printed with a black and white swastika tied around their left arms, just above the elbow. The Springboks strode inside, ignoring the Nazi’s salute. The protestors were shouting. An apple splattered wetly on the sidewalk. Friday, 7 April 1972, St Lucia Lan left in broad daylight. Murray didn’t know why this upset him, except that he had a vague sense that she should’ve gone in the night time, under the cover of dark. The guilty should sneak away, with bowed heads and faces averted, not boldly, as though going for an afternoon walk. Lan had pulled down half his jumpers getting the suitcase from the top of the cupboard. She left his clothes scattered across the bedroom, victims of an explosion, an excess of emotion. In the two days after Lan left, Murray scours the house looking for some clue to where she was, maybe a note to him, blown off the table in the wind, or put down and forgotten in the rush. Perhaps there was a letter from her parents, bankrupt, demanding she return to Vietnam. Or a relative had died. A cousin in the Viet Cong napalmed. He finds a packet of her tampons in the bathroom cupboard, tries to flush them down the toilet, but they keep floating back up. They bloat; the knotted strings make them look like some strange water-dwelling creature, paddling in the bowl. He pees in the shower for a while, but in the end he scoops the tampons back out again with the holder for the toilet brush. The house doesn’t yield anything, so he takes to the garden, circles the place, investigates its underbelly. The previous tenant had laid squares of green carpet underneath, off-cuts that met in jagged lines, patches of dirt visible. Murray had set up two sofas, mouldy with age, on the carpeted part, would invite his friends to sit with him there, booze, discuss the state of the world and the problem with America. Roger rings in the afternoon, says, ‘What gives? We were supposed to have lunch.’ Murray says, ‘Lan’s left me.’ He knows he will cry soon. ‘Oh Christ. I’m so sorry,’ says Roger. Murray inhales, snuffs up snot. Roger coughs into the receiver. ‘It was just out of the blue,’ says Murray. ‘Where’s she gone?’ ‘I don’t know.’ ‘She didn’t say anything?’ ‘No,’ says Murray. ‘She could be anywhere. Maybe you should call the police, put in a missing report,’ says Roger. ‘I’m not too friendly with the cops,’ says Murray, and coughs. ‘You sound a bit crook. I’ll come over,’ says Roger. ‘That’d be good,’ says Murray. Roger turns up at the house an hour later, wearing wide pants and a tight collared shirt with thick white and red stripes. He’s growing a moustache, only cuts his hair when he visits his parents. Murray says, ‘I’ll make us a cuppa.’ Roger nods, sits down at the vinyl table with his hands resting on his knees. He says, ‘Are you coming to 291 on Sunday?’ 291 St Paul’s Terrace is the Brisbane Communist Party’s headquarters. Murray says, ‘What’s on?’ ‘Billy needs someone to look after the bookshop.’ Murray gives Roger a mug of tea, sits down with his own mug between his elbows, and cradles his head in his hands so his hair falls over his wrists. After a minute, Roger says, ‘Does her family know?’ Murray makes a strange noise through his hands. ‘I don’t even know how to contact them,’ he says. ‘She wrote them letters—couldn’t afford to phone—but she’s taken everything with her. The address book. Everything.’ Murray knows nothing of the specifics of Lan’s life before she met him. She was the first Asian he’d ever spoken to. She wore wrap-around skirts that changed colour in the sun; grew her hair below the waist; sat in the front row in class and never spoke. He liked the shape of her calf as it emerged from her skirt. He saw her on the great lawn filming her reflection in a window with a Sony Portapak and knew that he wanted her more than anything. Murray seduced her by saying almost nothing and touching her as often as he could. He was worried about offending her. What reading he had done made him aware of his own ignorance, and his friend in Psych told him that when you touch a girl enough — especially around the aureole — a hormone is released that bonds them to you, makes them sad when you leave them or they leave you. In conversation, Murray would put his hand on Lan’s elbow, once on the top of her head. Lan was ready to be seduced. Murray invited her to a winter party in his backyard. They kissed next to the fire and he didn’t notice until the next morning that the rubber on the bottom of his shoe melted in the flames. She moved into his house quickly, her clothes bundled in three plastic bags. He wanted her to stay in bed with him all day, imagined he was John Lennon and she Yoko Ono. Their mattress became a soup of discarded clothes, bread crumbs, wine stains, come stains, ash and flakes of pot. He resented her when she told him that she was bored, and left him, sheets pulled aside to reveal his erection, to go to class. Lan tutored high-schoolers for a while, but they complained to their mothers that they couldn’t understand her accent. She told him her parents wanted her to come home. The next night he tidied the house, and cooked her dinner. Over the green peas and potato—Lan grated ginger over hers, mixed it with chili and soy sauce, which she travelled all the way to Chinatown on a bus to buy—Murray proposed. They were married in the botanic gardens, surrounded by Murray’s friends. The night before his father called him up and said, ‘It’s not too late to get out of it. You won’t be betraying the cause.’ Murray said, ‘You have no idea what this means to me,’ and hung up on him. Sunday, 9 April 1972, 291 St Paul’s Terrace Murray perches on the backless stool behind the counter in The People’s Bookshop. He has the sense he is on the brink of something. His body is ready for movement. When a man walks into the shop, Murray panics because Billy hadn’t shown him how to use the cash register. He says, ‘Can I help?’ anyway. ‘No,’ says the man. The man walks the length of the shelves too fast to read the titles. He stops at a display of Australiana on a tiered shelf, slides his hand down the covers on display. He pauses at Crocodile Hunt. The cover shows a drawing of a bulky crocodile, scaled body bent in an S, its jaws under the man’s thumb. He picks it up, examines it. Murray thinks it odd that he doesn’t flip it over to read the blurb. He walks around the whole room once, scanning the shelves, reaches Murray at the counter and puts the book down between them. Murray picks it up, turns it over, looking for a price. It’s stuck on the back in faded ink. He opens his mouth to tell the man how much, and finds him staring intently at the ceiling. Murray looks up too. A hairline crack runs along the surface and there are bulges in the plaster where the wooden framework’s swollen. It’s lower than Murray remembers. He thinks that if he stood on his toes he could reach it with the tips of his fingers. Murray looks down again to find the man staring at him. Caught out, Murray mutters the price, says, ‘You don’t have it in exact change, do you?’ The man nods, fumbles around in his pocket for a bit and brings out a note, which he lays at an angle along the bench top. He counts the coins in the palm of his hand. He makes a fist around the coins, brings his hand over the note and lets go. The coins fall, clinking, over the bench. One spins wildly, rolls past Murray’s arm and across the bench. Murray lets it fall. He recognises the man now; it is the act of release that triggers the memory, the fingers spread wide, the wrist bent, the black watch band. This is the man who threw the brick in the Springbok protest. Dead set. He looks up again, expecting to see the same sense of recognition in the man, but he is walking out of the shop. Murray follows him outside, leaving the door open and the money still on the counter. The man is walking right along St Paul’s Terrace. He tucks the book under his arm to cross Barry Parade, as though he might need both hands free to wave off the oncoming traffic. Murray stands on the other side of the road, unsure of what to do. When Murray came outside, he’d planned to hail the man, tell him he recognised him from the strike and was a fellow comrade. They give discounts to Communist Party members. Outside the shop, it strikes him that perhaps the man is not one of them at all. Just because he was at the march doesn’t make him a communist. Despite the unpopularity of the cause —‘It’s just fucking football,’ one of Murray’s friends had said. ‘What’s it got to do with anything?’— there had been many types there, a mixture of labour party members; unionists; people in the Radical Club and the Eureka Youth League; those not particularly attached to anyone. He remembers again the brick shattered on the ground. It hadn’t hit anyone, but was an incitement to violence. This man is dangerous. Murray is filled again with nervous energy, which leaves him both dull-witted and super-charged, as though he is a wind-up toy twisted tight and then released, unable to do anything but move in the direction he’s facing. He crosses the road about five metres behind the man, sticks to the outer edge of the pavement, head down. If he moves his eyes upwards, while still keeping his neck lowered, he can see the shoes of the man, his white socks flashing with each step. The man turns the corner into Brunswick Street. He stops at a car parked in front of the old Masonic Temple. Murray walks past fast, unsure of what to do next. The Temple’s entry is set back in the building, four steps leading up to a red door. Murray ducks inside the alcove, looks up to see the man sitting in the driver’s seat pulling out the pages of Crocodile Hunt and feeding them through the half wound-down window where they land, fanned out, on the road. When he’s finished dismembering the book, the man spreads the page-less cover across the back of the car. The crocodile, snout on the side, one eye turned outwards, stares out into the street. The man flicks the ignition and drives, the pages flying out and onto the road in his wake. Murray sits down on the steps of the guild and smokes. He isn’t exactly sure what just happened. The man must have bought the book just because he liked the picture on the front of the cover. But it’s odd though that he had bothered to spend so much just for one picture. Murray remembers how he had paced the shop and studiously examined the ceiling. He’d given the impression of someone picking out furniture for the room, working out the dimensions so some chair or table would fit. A cough. Murray looks up. The man’s standing above him, his forearm resting on the wall, elbow bent. His other arm hangs at his side, hand bunched up around a bundle of keys. ‘I wouldn’t of bothered following me, if I was you,’ the man says. ‘The police are on my side. Special branch are on my side.’ He pushes himself off the wall, stands up straight, and says, ‘Heil Hitler.’ Tuesday April 19, 1972, 291 St Paul’s Terrace Murray brings his curled fist down on the door. It opens with the force of his knock and he feels like an idiot for even bothering. The hallway’s dark. Murray runs into a filing cabinet, swears, and stands in the centre of the corridor, with his hand still on the cabinet, calling, ‘Roger! Roger!’ Murray told Roger he’d come here when he called him. Murray was walking back from uni, and on the other side of the road to his house, ready to cross, he saw there was someone standing underneath the house, looking out into the street. Murray didn’t stop. He didn’t need to. He knew it was the man from the bookshop, the Nazi. Murray kept walking until he reached the end of the street, turned the corner and then ran. Back on campus, he shut himself in a phone box and dialed Roger’s number. ‘I can’t get to my house,’ Murray said when Roger picked up. ‘Lock yourself out, did you?’ said Roger. ‘You know that Nazi? He’s back again.’ ‘I don’t get it,’ said Roger. ‘It doesn’t matter. I need to stay with you,’ said Murray. ‘You can’t. I’m going to a party meeting.’ ‘I’ll meet you there.’ ‘Ok. If you want.’ Roger hung up. Now, Roger stands framed in the doorway of the meeting room. ‘Hey Murray, shut up. I can hear you. Get in here.’ Roger switches on the hallway light and Murray walks into the meeting room. There are about seven people, sitting on hard metal chairs around a long table. Murray sits next to Roger, nods to Patsy, who has nice breasts but is married. Vince says, ‘Hi, Murray, we’re talking about the moratorium on Friday.’ ‘You should bring your pretty little Vietnamese girl,’ says Billy. ‘She’s not around anymore,’ says Roger. ‘That’s a shame,’ says Patsy. ‘Yeah,’ says Murray. ‘Helen Dashwood told me her school has banned them from wearing moratorium badges,’ says Billy. ‘Far out,’ says Patsy. ‘We should get her to speak at the rally,’ says Stella, taking notes, and then, looking up, says, ‘Can anyone smell burning?’ Murray sniffs, says ‘I’ll go look.’ They all follow him down the hall. Patsy says, behind him, ‘Is it coming from the kitchen?’ Roger says, ‘No,’ and then the windows around them shatter. Next to Murray, a filing cabinet buckles and twists like wet cardboard in the rain. A door is blown off its hinges. Murray feels a moment of great confusion, a sense that things are sliding away from him spectacularly. He’s felt this once before. He wanted Lan to sit down with him, but she said she didn’t want to be touched. He’d pulled her to him, playfully, a joke, but he was too hard and she went limp in his hands. Like she’d been expecting it. Her head hit the table in front of him with a sharp, quick crack. He didn’t understand what happened; he had never experienced violence this close. He imagined her brain as a line drawing with the different sections coloured in, like his Psych friend had once showed him, except squashed in at the bottom. She had recovered, of course, opened her eyes a second later to him gasping. He remembered saying, ‘I just want to hold you. Why do you always do this to me?’ and even to him it hadn’t made sense because he was the one doing it to her. Afterwards, Murray had felt hungry, but couldn’t think of anything that he’d wanted to eat. He sliced an apple in half, traced the star of seeds with his finger, then decided he didn’t want it. He left it, already turning brown, on the kitchen bench. Author’s Note No one was killed in the April 19 explosion, nor did the roof fall in. The bookstore, kitchen and press on the first floor of 291 took the force of the blast (Evans and Ferrier). The same night, a man called The Courier Mail (1) saying he was a member of a right wing group and had just bombed the Brisbane Communist Party Headquarters. He threatened to bomb more on Friday if members attended the anti-Vietnam war moratorium that day. He ended his conversation with ‘Heil Hitler.’ Gary Mangan, a known Nazi party member, later confessed to the bombing. He was taken to court, but the Judge ruled that the body of evidence was inadmissible, citing a legal technicality. Mangan was not charged.Ian Curr, in his article, Radical Books in Brisbane, publishes an image of the Communist party quarters in Brisbane. The image, entitled ‘After the Bomb, April 19 1972,’ shows detectives interviewing those who were in the building at the time. One man, with his back to the camera, is unidentified. I imagined this unknown man, in thongs with the long hair, to be Murray. It is in these gaps in historical knowledge that the writer of fiction is free to imagine. References “Bomb in the Valley, Then City Shots.” The Courier Mail 20 Apr. 1972: 1. Curr, Ian. Radical Books in Brisbane. 2008. 24 Jun. 2011 < http://workersbushtelegraph.com.au/2008/07/18/radical-books-in-brisbane/ >. Evans, Raymond, and Carole Ferrier. Radical Brisbane: An Unruly History. Brisbane: Vulgar Press, 2004.

The Internet has connected people and cultures in a way that, just ten years ago, was unimaginable. Because of the net, materials once scarce are now ubiquitous. Indeed, never before in human history have so many people had so much access to such a wide variety of cultural material, yet far from heralding a new cultural nirvana, we are facing a creative lock-down. Over the last hundred years, copyright term has been extended time and again by a creative industry eager to hold on to the exclusive rights to its most lucrative materials. Previously, these rights guaranteed a steady income because the industry controlled supply and, in many cases, manufactured demand. But now culture has moved from being physical artefacts that can be sold or performances that can be experienced to being collections of 1s and 0s that can be easily copied and exchanged. People are revelling in the opportunity to acquire and experience music, movies, TV, books, photos, essays and other materials that they would otherwise have missed out on; and they picking up the creative ball and running with it, making their own version, remixes, mash-ups and derivative works. More importantly than that, people are producing and sharing their own cultural resources, publishing their own original photos, movies, music, writing. You name it, somewhere someone is making it, just for the love of it. Whilst the creative industries are using copyright law in every way they can to prosecute, shut down, and scare people away from even legitimate uses of cultural materials, the law itself is becoming increasingly inadequate. It can no longer deal with society’s demands and expectations, nor can it cope with modern forms of collaboration facilitated by technologies that the law makers could never have anticipated. Understanding Copyright Copyright is a complex area of law and even a seemingly simple task like determining whether a work is in or out of copyright can be a difficult calculation, as illustrated by flowcharts from Tim Padfield of the National Archives examining the British system, and Bromberg & Sunstein LLP which covers American works. Despite the complexity, understanding copyright is essential in our burgeoning knowledge economies. It is becoming increasingly clear that sharing knowledge, skills and expertise is of great importance not just within companies but also within communities and for individuals. There are many tools available today that allow people to work, synchronously or asynchronously, on creative endeavours via the Web, including: ccMixter, a community music site that helps people find material to remix; YouTube, which hosts movies; and JumpCut:, which allows people to share and remix their movies. These tools are being developed because of the increasing number of cultural movements toward the appropriation and reuse of culture that are encouraging people to get involved. These movements vary in their constituencies and foci, and include the student movement FreeCulture.org, the Free Software Foundation, the UK-based Remix Commons. Even big business has acknowledged the importance of cultural exchange and development, with Apple using the tagline ‘Rip. Mix. Burn.’ for its controversial 2001 advertising campaign. But creators—the writers, musicians, film-makers and remixers—frequently lose themselves in the maze of copyright legislation, a maze complicated by the international aspect of modern collaboration. Understanding of copyright law is at such a low ebb because current legislation is too complex and, in parts, out of step with modern technology and expectations. Creators have neither the time nor the motivation to learn more—they tend to ignore potential issues and continue labouring under any misapprehensions they have acquired along the way. The authors believe that there is an urgent need for review, modernisation and simplification of intellectual property laws. Indeed, in the UK, intellectual property is currently being examined by a Treasury-level review lead by Andrew Gowers. The Gowers Review is, at the time of writing, accepting submissions from interested parties and is due to report in the Autumn of 2006. Internationally, however, the situation is likely to remain difficult, so creators must grasp the nettle, educate themselves about copyright, and ensure that they understand the legal ramifications of collaboration, publication and reuse. What Is Collaboration? Wikipedia, a free online encyclopaedia created and maintained by unpaid volunteers, defines collaboration as “all processes wherein people work together—applying both to the work of individuals as well as larger collectives and societies” (Wikipedia, “Collaboration”). These varied practices are some of our most common and basic tendencies and apply in almost every sphere of human behaviour; working together with others might be described as an instinctive, pragmatic or social urge. We know we are collaborating when we work in teams with colleagues or brainstorm an idea with a friend, but there are many less familiar examples of collaboration, such as taking part in a Mexican wave or standing in a queue. In creative works, the law expects collaborators to obtain permission to reuse work created by others before they embark upon that reuse. Yet this distinction between ‘my’ work and ‘your’ work is entirely a legal and social construct, as opposed to an absolute fact of human nature, and new technologies are blurring the boundaries between what is ‘mine’ and what is ‘yours’ whilst new cultural movements posit a third position, ‘ours’. Yochai Benkler coined the term ‘commons-based peer production’ (Benkler, Coase’s Penguin; The Wealth of Nations) to describe collaborative efforts, such as free and open-source software or projects such as Wikipedia itself, which are based on sharing information. Benkler posits this particular example of collaboration as an alternative model for economic development, in contrast to the ‘firm’ and the ‘market’. Benkler’s notion sits uncomfortably with the individualistic precepts of originality which dominate IP policy, but with examples of commons-based peer production on the increase, it cannot be ignored when considering how new technologies and ways of working interact with existing and future copyright legislation. The Development of Collaboration When we think of collaboration we frequently imagine academics working together on a research paper, or musicians jamming together to write a new song. In academia, researchers working on a project are expected to write papers for publication in journals on a regular basis. The motto ‘publish or die’ is well known to anyone who has worked in academic circle—publishing papers is the lifeblood of the academic career, forming the basis of a researcher’s status within the academic community and providing data and theses for other researchers to test and build upon. In these circumstances, copyright is often assigned by the authors to a journal and, because there is no direct commercial outcome for the authors, conflicts regarding copyright tend to be restricted to issues such as reuse and reproduction. Within the creative industries, however, the focus of the collaboration is to derive commercial benefit from the work, so copyright issues, such as division of fees and royalties, plagiarism, and rights for reuse are much more profitable and hence they are more vigorously pursued. All of these issues are commonly discussed, documented and well understood. Less well understood is the interaction between copyright and the types of collaboration that the Internet has facilitated over the last decade. Copyright and Wikis Ten years ago, Ward Cunningham invented the ‘wiki’—a Web page which could be edited in situ by anyone with a browser. A wiki allows multiple users to read and edit the same page and, in many cases, those users are either anonymous or identified only by a nickname. The most famous example of a wiki is Wikipedia, which was started by Jimmy Wales in 2001 and now has over a million articles and over 1.2 million registered users (Wikipedia, “Wikipedia Statistics”). The culture of online wiki collaboration is a gestalt—the whole is greater than the sum of the parts and the collaborators see the overall success of the project as more important than their contribution to it. The majority of wiki software records every single edit to every page, creating a perfect audit trail of who changed which page and when. Because copyright is granted for the expression of an idea, in theory, this comprehensive edit history would allow users to assert copyright over their contributions, but in practice it is not possible to delineate clearly between different people’s contributions and, even if it was possible, it would simply create a thicket of rights which could never be untangled. In most cases, wiki users do not wish to assert copyright and are not interested in financial gain, but when wikis are set up to provide a source of information for reuse, copyright licensing becomes an issue. In the UK, it is not possible to dedicate a piece of work to the public domain, nor can you waive your copyright in a work. When a copyright holder wishes to licence their work, they can only assign that licence to another person or a legal entity such as a company. This is because in the UK, the public domain is formed of the ‘leftovers’ of intellectual property—works for which copyright has expired or those aspects of creative works which do not qualify for protection. It cannot be formally added to, although it certainly can be reduced by, for example, extension of copyright term which removes work from the public domain by re-copyrighting previously unprotected material. So the question becomes, to whom does the content of a wiki belong? At this point traditional copyright doctrines are of little use. The concept of individuals owning their original contribution falls down when contributions become so entangled that it’s impossible to split one person’s work from another. In a corporate context, individuals have often signed an employment contract in which they assign copyright in all their work to their employer, so all material created individually or through collaboration is owned by the company. But in the public sphere, there is no employer, there is no single entity to own the copyright (the group of contributors not being in itself a legal entity), and therefore no single entity to give permission to those who wish to reuse the content. One possible answer would be if all contributors assigned their copyright to an individual, such as the owner of the wiki, who could then grant permission for reuse. But online communities are fluid, with people joining and leaving as the mood takes them, and concepts of ownership are not as straightforward as in the offline world. Instead, authors who wished to achieve the equivalent of assigning rights to the public domain would have to publish a free licence to ‘the world’ granting permission to do any act otherwise restricted by copyright in the work. Drafting such a licence so that it is legally binding is, however, beyond the skills of most and could be done effectively only by an expert in copyright. The majority of creative people, however, do not have the budget to hire a copyright lawyer, and pro bono resources are few and far between. Copyright and Blogs Blogs are a clearer-cut case. Blog posts are usually written by one person, even if the blog that they are contributing to has multiple authors. Copyright therefore resides clearly with the author. Even if the blog has a copyright notice at the bottom—© A.N. Other Entity—unless there has been an explicit or implied agreement to transfer rights from the writer to the blog owner, copyright resides with the originator. Simply putting a copyright notice on a blog does not constitute such an agreement. Equally, copyright in blog comments resides with the commenter, not the site owner. This reflects the state of copyright with personal letters—the copyright in a letter resides with the letter writer, not the recipient, and owning letters does not constitute a right to publish them. Obviously, by clicking the ‘submit’ button, commenters have decided themselves to publish, but it should be remembered that that action does not transfer copyright to the blog owner without specific agreement from the commenter. Copyright and Musical Collaboration Musical collaboration is generally accepted by legal systems, at least in terms of recording (duets, groups and orchestras) and writing (partnerships). The practice of sampling—taking a snippet of a recording for use in a new work—has, however, changed the nature of collaboration, shaking up the recording industry and causing a legal furore. Musicians have been borrowing directly from each other since time immemorial and the student of classical music can point to many examples of composers ‘quoting’ each other’s melodies in their own work. Folk musicians too have been borrowing words and music from each other for centuries. But sampling in its modern form goes back to the musique concrète movement of the 1940s, when musicians used portions of other recordings in their own new compositions. The practice developed through the 50s and 60s, with The Beatles’ “Revolution 9” (from The White Album) drawing heavily from samples of orchestral and other recordings along with speech incorporated live from a radio playing in the studio at the time. Contemporary examples of sampling are too common to pick highlights, but Paul D. Miller, a.k.a. DJ Spooky ‘that Subliminal Kid’, has written an analysis of what he calls ‘Rhythm Science’ which examines the phenomenon. To begin with, sampling was ignored as it was rare and commercially insignificant. But once rap artists started to make significant amounts of money using samples, legal action was taken by originators claiming copyright infringement. Notable cases of illegal sampling were “Pump Up the Volume” by M/A/R/R/S in 1987 and Vanilla Ice’s use of Queen/David Bowie’s “Under Pressure” in the early 90s. Where once artists would use a sample and sort out the legal mess afterwards, such high-profile litigation has forced artists to secure permission for (or ‘clear’) their samples before use, and record companies will now refuse to release any song with uncleared samples. As software and technology progress further, so sampling progresses along with it. Indeed, sampling has now spawned mash-ups, where two or more songs are combined to create a musical hybrid. Instead of using just a portion of a song in a new composition which may be predominantly original, mash-ups often use no original material and rely instead upon mixing together tracks creatively, often juxtaposing musical styles or lyrics in a humorous manner. One of the most illuminating examples of a mash-up is DJ Food Raiding the 20th Century which itself gives a history of sampling and mash-ups using samples from over 160 sources, including other mash-ups. Mash-ups are almost always illegal, and this illegality drives mash-up artists underground. Yet, despite the fact that good mash-ups can spread like wildfire on the Internet, bringing new interest to old and jaded tracks and, potentially, new income to artists whose work had been forgotten, this form of musical expression is aggressively demonised upon by the industry. Given the opportunity, the industry will instead prosecute for infringement. But clearing rights is a complex and expensive procedure well beyond the reach of the average mash-up artist. First, you must identify the owner of the sound recording, a task easier said than done. The name of the rights holder may not be included in the original recording’s packaging, and as rights regularly change hands when an artist’s contract expires or when a record label is sold, any indication as to the rights holder’s identity may be out of date. Online musical databases such as AllMusic can be of some use, but in the case of older or obscure recordings, it may not be possible to locate the rights holder at all. Works where there is no identifiable rights holder are called ‘orphaned works’, and the longer the term of copyright, the more works are orphaned. Once you know who the rights holder is, you can negotiate terms for your proposed usage. Standard fees are extremely high, especially in the US, and typically discourage use. This convoluted legal culture is an anachronism in desperate need of reform: sampling has produced some of the most culturally interesting and financially valuable recordings of the past thirty years, so should be supported rather than marginalised. Unless the legal culture develops an acceptance for these practices, the associated financial and cultural benefits for society will not be realised. The irony is that there is already a successful model for simplifying licensing. If a musician wishes to record a cover version of a song, then royalty terms are set by law and there is no need to seek permission. In this case, the lawmakers have recognised the social and cultural benefit of cover versions and created a workable solution to the permissions problem. There is no logical reason why a similar system could not be put in place for sampling. Alternatives to Traditional Copyright Copyright, in its default structure, is a disabling force. It says that you may not do anything with my work without my permission and forces creators wishing to make a derivative work to contact me in order to obtain that permission in writing. This ‘permissions society’ has become the norm, but it is clear that it is not beneficial to society to hide away so much of our culture behind copyright, far beyond the reach of the individual creator. Fortunately there are fast-growing alternatives which simplify whilst encouraging creativity. Creative Commons is a global movement started by academic lawyers in the US who thought to write a set of more flexible copyright licences for creative works. These licenses enable creators to precisely tailor restrictions imposed on subsequent users of their work, prompting the tag-line ‘some rights reserved’ Creators decide if they will allow redistribution, commercial or non-commercial re-use, or require attribution, and can combine these permissions in whichever way they see fit. They may also choose to authorise others to sample their works. Built upon the foundation of copyright law, Creative Commons licences now apply to some 53 million works world-wide (Doctorow), and operate in over 60 jurisdictions. Their success is testament to the fact that collaboration and sharing is a fundamental part of human nature, and treating cultural output as property to be locked away goes against the grain for many people. Creative Commons are now also helping scientists to share not just the results of their research, but also data and samples so that others can easily replicate experiments and verify or refute results. They have thus created Science Commons in an attempt to free up data and resources from unnecessary private control. Scientists have been sharing their work via personal Web pages and other Websites for many years, and additional tools which allow them to benefit from network effects are to be welcomed. Another example of functioning alternative practices is the Remix Commons, a grassroots network spreading across the UK that facilitates artistic collaboration. Their Website is a forum for exchange of cultural materials, providing a space for creators to both locate and present work for possible remixing. Any artistic practice which can reasonably be rendered online is welcomed in their broad church. The network’s rapid expansion is in part attributable to its developers’ understanding of the need for tangible, practicable examples of a social movement, as embodied by their ‘free culture’ workshops. Collaboration, Copyright and the Future There has never been a better time to collaborate. The Internet is providing us with ways to work together that were unimaginable even just a decade ago, and high broadband penetration means that exchanging large amounts of data is not only feasible, but also getting easier and easier. It is possible now to work with other artists, writers and scientists around the world without ever physically meeting. The idea that the Internet may one day contain the sum of human knowledge is to underestimate its potential. The Internet is not just a repository, it is a mechanism for new discoveries, for expanding our knowledge, and for making links between people that would previously have been impossible. Copyright law has, in general, failed to keep up with the amazing progress shown by technology and human ingenuity. It is time that the lawmakers learnt how to collaborate with the collaborators in order to bring copyright up to date. References Apple. “Rip. Mix. Burn.” Advertisement. 28 April 2006 http://www.theapplecollection.com/Collection/AppleMovies/mov/concert_144a.html>. Benkler, Yochai. Coase’s Penguin. Yale Law School, 1 Dec. 2002. 14 April 2006 http://www.benkler.org/CoasesPenguin.html>. ———. The Wealth of Nations. New Haven: Yape UP, 2006. Bromberg & Sunstein LLP. Flowchart for Determining when US Copyrights in Fixed Works Expire. 14 Apr. 2006 http://www.bromsun.com/practices/copyright-portfolio-development/flowchart.htm>. DJ Food. Raiding the 20th Century. 14 April 2006 http://www.ubu.com/sound/dj_food.html>. Doctorow, Cory. “Yahoo Finds 53 Million Creative Commons Licensed Works Online.” BoingBoing 5 Oct. 2005. 14 April 2006 http://www.boingboing.net/2005/10/05/yahoo_finds_53_milli.html>. Miller, Paul D. Rhythm Science. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2004. Padfield, Tim. “Duration of Copyright.” The National Archives. 14 Apr. 2006 http://www.kingston.ac.uk/library/copyright/documents/DurationofCopyright FlowchartbyTimPadfieldofTheNationalArchives_002.pdf>. Wikipedia. “Collaboration.” 14 April 2006 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Collaboration>. ———. “Wikipedia Statistics.” 14 April 2006 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Statistics>. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Charman, Suw, and Michael Holloway. "Copyright in a Collaborative Age." M/C Journal 9.2 (2006). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0605/02-charmanholloway.php>. APA Style Charman, S., and M. Holloway. (May 2006) "Copyright in a Collaborative Age," M/C Journal, 9(2). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0605/02-charmanholloway.php>.

While the term “visual literacy” has grown in popularity in the last 50 years, its meaning remains nebulous. It is described variously as: a vehicle for aesthetic appreciation, a means of defence against visual manipulation, a sorting mechanism for an increasingly data-saturated age, and a prerequisite to civic inclusion (Fransecky 23; Messaris 181; McTigue and Flowers 580). Scholars have written extensively about the first three subjects but there has been less research on how visual literacy frames civic life and how it might help the public as a tool to address disadvantage and assist in removing social and cultural barriers. This article examines a forerunner to visual literacy in the push to create an international symbol language born out of popular education movements, a project that fell short of its goals but still left a considerable impression on graphic media. This article, then, presents an analysis of visual literacy campaigns in the early postwar era. These campaigns did not attempt to invent a symbolic language but posited that images themselves served as a universal language in which students could receive training. Of particular interest is how the concept of visual literacy has been mobilised as a pedagogical tool in design, digital humanities and in broader civic education initiatives promoted by Third Space institutions. Behind the creation of new visual literacy curricula is the idea that images can help anchor a world community, supplementing textual communication. Figure 1: Visual Literacy Yearbook. Montebello Unified School District, USA, 1973. Shedding Light: Origins of the Visual Literacy Frame The term “visual literacy” came to the fore in the early 1970s on the heels of mass literacy campaigns. The educators, creatives and media theorists who first advocated for visual learning linked this aim to literacy, an unassailable goal, to promote a more radical curricular overhaul. They challenged a system that had hitherto only acknowledged a very limited pathway towards academic success; pushing “language and mathematics”, courses “referred to as solids (something substantial) as contrasted with liquids or gases (courses with little or no substance)” (Eisner 92). This was deemed “a parochial view of both human ability and the possibilities of education” that did not acknowledge multiple forms of intelligence (Gardner). This change not only integrated elements of mass culture that had been rejected in education, notably film and graphic arts, but also encouraged the critique of images as a form of good citizenship, assuming that visually literate arbiters could call out media misrepresentations and manipulative political advertising (Messaris, “Visual Test”). This movement was, in many ways, reactive to new forms of mass media that began to replace newspapers as key forms of civic participation. Unlike simple literacy (being able to decipher letters as a mnemonic system), visual literacy involves imputing meanings to images where meanings are less fixed, yet still with embedded cultural signifiers. Visual literacy promised to extend enlightenment metaphors of sight (as in the German Aufklärung) and illumination (as in the French Lumières) to help citizens understand an increasingly complex marketplace of images. The move towards visual literacy was not so much a shift towards images (and away from books and oration) but an affirmation of the need to critically investigate the visual sphere. It introduced doubt to previously upheld hierarchies of perception. Sight, to Kant the “noblest of the senses” (158), was no longer the sense “least affected” by the surrounding world but an input centre that was equally manipulable. In Kant’s view of societal development, the “cosmopolitan” held the key to pacifying bellicose states and ensuring global prosperity and tranquillity. The process of developing a cosmopolitan ideology rests, according to Kant, on the gradual elimination of war and “the education of young people in intellectual and moral culture” (188-89). Transforming disparate societies into “a universal cosmopolitan existence” that would “at last be realised as the matrix within which all the original capacities of the human race may develop” and would take well-funded educational institutions and, potentially, a new framework for imparting knowledge (Kant 51). To some, the world of the visual presented a baseline for shared experience. Figure 2: Exhibition by the Gesellschafts- und Wirtschaftsmuseum in Vienna, photograph c. 1927. An International Picture Language The quest to find a mutually intelligible language that could “bridge worlds” and solder together all of humankind goes back to the late nineteenth century and the Esperanto movement of Ludwig Zamenhof (Schor 59). The expression of this ideal in the world of the visual picked up steam in the interwar years with designers and editors like Fritz Kahn, Gerd Arntz, and Otto and Marie Neurath. Their work transposing complex ideas into graphic form has been rediscovered as an antecedent to modern infographics, but the symbols they deployed were not to merely explain, but also help education and build international fellowship unbounded by spoken language. The Neuraths in particular are celebrated for their international picture language or Isotypes. These pictograms (sometimes viewed as proto-emojis) can be used to represent data without text. Taken together they are an “intemporal, hieroglyphic language” that Neutrath hoped would unite working-class people the world over (Lee 159). The Neuraths’ work was done in the explicit service of visual education with a popular socialist agenda and incubated in the social sphere of Red Vienna at the Gesellschafts- und Wirtschaftsmuseum (Social and Economic Museum) where Otto served as Director. The Wirtschaftsmuseum was an experiment in popular education, with multiple branches and late opening hours to accommodate the “the working man [who] has time to see a museum only at night” (Neurath 72-73). The Isotype contained universalist aspirations for the “making of a world language, or a helping picture language—[that] will give support to international developments generally” and “educate by the eye” (Neurath 13). Figure 3: Gerd Arntz Isotype Images. (Source: University of Reading.) The Isotype was widely adopted in the postwar era in pre-packaged sets of symbols used in graphic design and wayfinding systems for buildings and transportation networks, but with the socialism of the Neuraths’ peeled away, leaving only the system of logos that we are familiar with from airport washrooms, charts, and public transport maps. Much of the uptake in this symbol language could be traced to increased mobility and tourism, particularly in countries that did not make use of a Roman alphabet. The 1964 Olympics in Tokyo helped pave the way when organisers, fearful of jumbling too many scripts together, opted instead for black and white icons to represent the program of sports that summer. The new focus on the visual was both technologically mediated—cheaper printing and broadcast technologies made the diffusion of image increasingly possible—but also ideologically supported by a growing emphasis on projects that transcended linguistic, ethnic, and national borders. The Olympic symbols gradually morphed into Letraset icons, and, later, symbols in the Unicode Standard, which are the basis for today’s emojis. Wordless signs helped facilitate interconnectedness, but only in the most literal sense; their application was limited primarily to sports mega-events, highway maps, and “brand building”, and they never fulfilled their role as an educational language “to give the different nations a common outlook” (Neurath 18). Universally understood icons, particularly in the form of emojis, point to a rise in visual communication but they have fallen short as a cosmopolitan project, supporting neither the globalisation of Kantian ethics nor the transnational socialism of the Neuraths. Figure 4: Symbols in use. Women's bathroom. 1964 Tokyo Olympics. (Source: The official report of the Organizing Committee.) Counter Education By mid-century, the optimism of a universal symbol language seemed dated, and focus shifted from distillation to discernment. New educational programs presented ways to study images, increasingly reproducible with new technologies, as a language in and of themselves. These methods had their roots in the fin-de-siècle educational reforms of John Dewey, Helen Parkhurst, and Maria Montessori. As early as the 1920s, progressive educators were using highly visual magazines, like National Geographic, as the basis for lesson planning, with the hopes that they would “expose students to edifying and culturally enriching reading” and “develop a more catholic taste or sensibility, representing an important cosmopolitan value” (Hawkins 45). The rise in imagery from previously inaccessible regions helped pupils to see themselves in relation to the larger world (although this connection always came with the presumed superiority of the reader). “Pictorial education in public schools” taught readers—through images—to accept a broader world but, too often, they saw photographs as a “straightforward transcription of the real world” (Hawkins 57). The images of cultures and events presented in Life and National Geographic for the purposes of education and enrichment were now the subject of greater analysis in the classroom, not just as “windows into new worlds” but as cultural products in and of themselves. The emerging visual curriculum aimed to do more than just teach with previously excluded modes (photography, film and comics); it would investigate how images presented and mediated the world. This gained wider appeal with new analytical writing on film, like Raymond Spottiswoode's Grammar of the Film (1950) which sought to formulate the grammatical rules of visual communication (Messaris 181), influenced by semiotics and structural linguistics; the emphasis on grammar can also be seen in far earlier writings on design systems such as Owen Jones’s 1856 The Grammar of Ornament, which also advocated for new, universalising methods in design education (Sloboda 228). The inventorying impulse is on display in books like Donis A. Dondis’s A Primer of Visual Literacy (1973), a text that meditates on visual perception but also functions as an introduction to line and form in the applied arts, picking up where the Bauhaus left off. Dondis enumerates the “syntactical guidelines” of the applied arts with illustrations that are in keeping with 1920s books by Kandinsky and Klee and analyse pictorial elements. However, at the end of the book she shifts focus with two chapters that examine “messaging” and visual literacy explicitly. Dondis predicts that “an intellectual, trained ability to make and understand visual messages is becoming a vital necessity to involvement with communication. It is quite likely that visual literacy will be one of the fundamental measures of education in the last third of our century” (33) and she presses for more programs that incorporate the exploration and analysis of images in tertiary education. Figure 5: Ideal spatial environment for the Blueprint charts, 1970. (Image: Inventory Press.) Visual literacy in education arrived in earnest with a wave of publications in the mid-1970s. They offered ways for students to understand media processes and for teachers to use visual culture as an entry point into complex social and scientific subject matter, tapping into the “visual consciousness of the ‘television generation’” (Fransecky 5). Visual culture was often seen as inherently democratising, a break from stuffiness, the “artificialities of civilisation”, and the “archaic structures” that set sensorial perception apart from scholarship (Dworkin 131-132). Many radical university projects and community education initiatives of the 1960s made use of new media in novel ways: from Maurice Stein and Larry Miller’s fold-out posters accompanying Blueprint for Counter Education (1970) to Emory Douglas’s graphics for The Black Panther newspaper. Blueprint’s text- and image-dense wall charts were made via assemblage and they were imagined less as charts and more as a “matrix of resources” that could be used—and added to—by youth to undertake their own counter education (Cronin 53). These experiments in visual learning helped to break down old hierarchies in education, but their aim was influenced more by countercultural notions of disruption than the universal ideals of cosmopolitanism. From Image as Text to City as Text For a brief period in the 1970s, thinkers like Marshall McLuhan (McLuhan et al., Massage) and artists like Bruno Munari (Tanchis and Munari) collaborated fruitfully with graphic designers to create books that mixed text and image in novel ways. Using new compositional methods, they broke apart traditional printing lock-ups to superimpose photographs, twist text, and bend narrative frames. The most famous work from this era is, undoubtedly, The Medium Is the Massage (1967), McLuhan’s team-up with graphic designer Quentin Fiore, but it was followed by dozens of other books intended to communicate theory and scientific ideas with popularising graphics. Following in the footsteps of McLuhan, many of these texts sought not just to explain an issue but to self-consciously reference their own method of information delivery. These works set the precedent for visual aids (and, to a lesser extent, audio) that launched a diverse, non-hierarchical discourse that was nonetheless bound to tactile artefacts. In 1977, McLuhan helped develop a media textbook for secondary school students called City as Classroom: Understanding Language and Media. It is notable for its direct address style and its focus on investigating spaces outside of the classroom (provocatively, a section on the third page begins with “Should all schools be closed?”). The book follows with a fine-grained analysis of advertising forms in which students are asked to first bring advertisements into class for analysis and later to go out into the city to explore “a man-made environment, a huge warehouse of information, a vast resource to be mined free of charge” (McLuhan et al., City 149). As a document City as Classroom is critical of existing teaching methods, in line with the radical “in the streets” pedagogy of its day. McLuhan’s theories proved particularly salient for the counter education movement, in part because they tapped into a healthy scepticism of advertisers and other image-makers. They also dovetailed with growing discontent with the ad-strew visual environment of cities in the 1970s. Budgets for advertising had mushroomed in the1960s and outdoor advertising “cluttered” cities with billboards and neon, generating “fierce intensities and new hybrid energies” that threatened to throw off the visual equilibrium (McLuhan 74). Visual literacy curricula brought in experiential learning focussed on the legibility of the cities, mapping, and the visualisation of urban issues with social justice implications. The Detroit Geographical Expedition and Institute (DGEI), a “collective endeavour of community research and education” that arose in the aftermath of the 1967 uprisings, is the most storied of the groups that suffused the collection of spatial data with community engagement and organising (Warren et al. 61). The following decades would see a tamed approach to visual literacy that, while still pressing for critical reading, did not upend traditional methods of educational delivery. Figure 6: Beginning a College Program-Assisting Teachers to Develop Visual Literacy Approaches in Public School Classrooms. 1977. ERIC. Searching for Civic Education The visual literacy initiatives formed in the early 1970s both affirmed existing civil society institutions while also asserting the need to better inform the public. Most of the campaigns were sponsored by universities, major libraries, and international groups such as UNESCO, which published its “Declaration on Media Education” in 1982. They noted that “participation” was “essential to the working of a pluralistic and representative democracy” and the “public—users, citizens, individuals, groups ... were too systematically overlooked”. Here, the public is conceived as both “targets of the information and communication process” and users who “should have the last word”. To that end their “continuing education” should be ensured (Study 18). Programs consisted primarily of cognitive “see-scan-analyse” techniques (Little et al.) for younger students but some also sought to bring visual analysis to adult learners via continuing education (often through museums eager to engage more diverse audiences) and more radical popular education programs sponsored by community groups. By the mid-80s, scores of modules had been built around the comprehension of visual media and had become standard educational fare across North America, Australasia, and to a lesser extent, Europe. There was an increasing awareness of the role of data and image presentation in decision-making, as evidenced by the surprising commercial success of Edward Tufte’s 1982 book, The Visual Display of Quantitative Information. Visual literacy—or at least image analysis—was now enmeshed in teaching practice and needed little active advocacy. Scholarly interest in the subject went into a brief period of hibernation in the 1980s and early 1990s, only to be reborn with the arrival of new media distribution technologies (CD-ROMs and then the internet) in classrooms and the widespread availability of digital imaging technology starting in the late 1990s; companies like Adobe distributed free and reduced-fee licences to schools and launched extensive teacher training programs. Visual literacy was reanimated but primarily within a circumscribed academic field of education and data visualisation. Figure 7: Visual Literacy; What Research Says to the Teacher, 1975. National Education Association. USA. Part of the shifting frame of visual literacy has to do with institutional imperatives, particularly in places where austerity measures forced strange alliances between disciplines. What had been a project in alternative education morphed into an uncontested part of the curriculum and a dependable budget line. This shift was already forecasted in 1972 by Harun Farocki who, writing in Filmkritik, noted that funding for new film schools would be difficult to obtain but money might be found for “training in media education … a discipline that could persuade ministers of education, that would at the same time turn the budget restrictions into an advantage, and that would match the functions of art schools” (98). Nearly 50 years later educators are still using media education (rebranded as visual or media literacy) to make the case for fine arts and humanities education. While earlier iterations of visual literacy education were often too reliant on the idea of cracking the “code” of images, they did promote ways of learning that were a deep departure from the rote methods of previous generations. Next-gen curricula frame visual literacy as largely supplemental—a resource, but not a program. By the end of the 20th century, visual literacy had changed from a scholarly interest to a standard resource in the “teacher’s toolkit”, entering into school programs and influencing museum education, corporate training, and the development of public-oriented media (Literacy). An appreciation of image culture was seen as key to creating empathetic global citizens, but its scope was increasingly limited. With rising austerity in the education sector (a shift that preceded the 2008 recession by decades in some countries), art educators, museum enrichment staff, and design researchers need to make a case for why their disciplines were relevant in pedagogical models that are increasingly aimed at “skills-based” and “job ready” teaching. Arts educators worked hard to insert their fields into learning goals for secondary students as visual literacy, with the hope that “literacy” would carry the weight of an educational imperative and not a supplementary field of study. Conclusion For nearly a century, educational initiatives have sought to inculcate a cosmopolitan perspective with a variety of teaching materials and pedagogical reference points. Symbolic languages, like the Isotype, looked to unite disparate people with shared visual forms; while educational initiatives aimed to train the eyes of students to make them more discerning citizens. The term ‘visual literacy’ emerged in the 1960s and has since been deployed in programs with a wide variety of goals. Countercultural initiatives saw it as a prerequisite for popular education from the ground up, but, in the years since, it has been formalised and brought into more staid curricula, often as a sort of shorthand for learning from media and pictures. The grand cosmopolitan vision of a complete ‘visual language’ has been scaled back considerably, but still exists in trace amounts. Processes of globalisation require images to universalise experiences, commodities, and more for people without shared languages. Emoji alphabets and globalese (brands and consumer messaging that are “visual-linguistic” amalgams “increasingly detached from any specific ethnolinguistic group or locality”) are a testament to a mediatised banal cosmopolitanism (Jaworski 231). In this sense, becoming “fluent” in global design vernacular means familiarity with firms and products, an understanding that is aesthetic, not critical. It is very much the beneficiaries of globalisation—both state and commercial actors—who have been able to harness increasingly image-based technologies for their benefit. To take a humorous but nonetheless consequential example, Spanish culinary boosters were able to successfully lobby for a paella emoji (Miller) rather than having a food symbol from a less wealthy country such as a Senegalese jollof or a Morrocan tagine. This trend has gone even further as new forms of visual communication are increasingly streamlined and managed by for-profit media platforms. The ubiquity of these forms of communication and their global reach has made visual literacy more important than ever but it has also fundamentally shifted the endeavour from a graphic sorting practice to a critical piece of social infrastructure that has tremendous political ramifications. Visual literacy campaigns hold out the promise of educating students in an image-based system with the potential to transcend linguistic and cultural boundaries. This cosmopolitan political project has not yet been realised, as the visual literacy frame has drifted into specialised silos of art, design, and digital humanities education. It can help bridge the “incomplete connections” of an increasingly globalised world (Calhoun 112), but it does not have a program in and of itself. Rather, an evolving visual literacy curriculum might be seen as a litmus test for how we imagine the role of images in the world. 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