Academic literature on the topic 'Musique - Australie'

The concept of the skink lizard genus Eremiascincus Greer, 1979 is expanded to include eleven species [antoniorum, brongersmai, butlerorum, douglasi, emigrans, fasciolatus, isolepis, richardsonii, musivus sp. nov., pardalis, timorensis], eight of which [antoniorum, brongersmai, butlerorum, douglasi, emigrans, isolepis, pardalis, timorensis] (comb. nov.) previously belonged to Glaphyromorphus Wells & Wellington, 1983. This decision is based on the results of three recent studies, which indicated that ‘Glaphyromorphus’ was a polyphyletic assemblage representing a morphotype within Australian sphenomorphine skinks. In addition, we describe a new species of Eremiascincus based on morphological and molecular genetic evidence. The new species is distributed in coastal areas of the Pilbara region, Dampierland and the Great Sandy Desert in northwestern Western Australia. Eremiascincus musivus sp. nov. differs from regional congeners by possessing a characteristic dorsal pattern comprising numerous whitish and dark spots which align to form a diffuse reticulum, a pale vertebral stripe, more slender body and smaller body size, 52–62 paravertebral scales, scales along top of the fourth toe with oblique sutures on basal quarter to third of digit, subdigital lamellae of fourth toe undivided and feebly keeled and 10–15 plantar scales. The description of E. musivus sp. nov. brings the number of species of Australian Eremiascincus to seven.

Surveys of Scelio spp., parasites of acridid eggs, were conducted in southern Australia during 1990-94. Parasitism of economically important grasshopper and locust species was frequently substantial confirming an important, albeit often localised, role by Scelio spp. in regulating host populations. Parasitism of Phaulacridium vittatum eggpods in tableland districts averaged 33.5% +/- s.d. 9.5 (range 27.4-47.1) and Chortoicetes terminifera throughout southern Australia averaged 19.8% +/- s.d. 24.6 (range 0-78.9). Scelio spp. were stenophagous and although some species parasitised several hosts, typically a principal host was readily identifiable. Scelio parvicornis was an exception in having two equally important hosts (P. vittatum and C. terminifera) and several subordinate alternative hosts (Oedaleus australis, Brachyexarna lobipennis and A. vulgaris). New hosts were recorded for S. fulgidus (Gastrimargus musicus), S. chortoicetes (Austroicetes vulgaris), S. parvicornis (Brachyexarna lobipennis, P. vittatum and A. vulgaris), S. flavicornis (C. terminifera), S. sp. nr flavicornis (Praxibulus insolens), S. ignobilis (Aiolopus thalassinus tamulus), S. bipartitus (C. terminifera) and S. orientalis (P. insolens). Significant new geographic distributions include S. parvicornis, S. fulgidus, S. sp. nr improcerus and S. flavicornis from Western Australia and S. orientalis and S. ignobilis from New South Wales. Undescribed species were reared from 29 pods of C. terminifera, P. vittatum, Macrotona australis and P. insolens.

De nombreux groupes autochtones au Brésil, au Canada, aux États-Unis, en Australie, en Nouvelle-Zélande et ailleurs dans le monde sont particulièrement préoccupés par la protection, la transmission et la reconnaissance de leurs patrimoines culturels. Trois dimensions sont indissociables de la compréhension des patrimoines autochtones soit 1) les liens entre matérialité et immatérialité du patrimoine 2) l’institutionnalisation des processus de patrimonialisation et 3) les médiateurs du patrimoine. Par patrimonialisation, il faut donc comprendre à la fois ce qui compose le patrimoine (chants, rituels, danses, objets, relation au territoire, arts visuels, jeux traditionnels, plantes médicinales…), les processus par lesquels ce patrimoine est documenté, préservé, transmis et mis en valeur (Kreps 2003), mais également les différents acteurs qui œuvrent au sein de ces processus. Souvent relégués à leurs dimensions matérielles, les patrimoines autochtones ne peuvent se comprendre sans considérer leur immatérialité (Leblic 2013 ; Lemonnier 2013). Par immatérialité, nous faisons référence ici aux débats anthropologiques sur les relations qu’entretiennent les humains avec leur environnement et les entités qui le composent (Descola 2005; Ingold 2000, 2011, 2012 ; Viveiros de Castro 2009). Si ces auteurs se sont surtout intéressés aux relations entre les humains et les animaux, les esprits ou les ancêtres, il est nécessaire de prendre en compte également la place des objets, du patrimoine bâti, des lieux et des sites sacrés, de la musique ou encore de la nourriture dans ces processus relationnels. Les objets, qu’ils soient d’art ou d’ethnographie, renvoient par exemple à des codes et des règles de comportement qui guident les humains, s’inscrivent dans des conceptions particulières de la personne, informent sur la création du monde ou se posent comme des révélateurs des identités autochtones du territoire. Les matériaux, les techniques de fabrication autant que le pouvoir attribué aux objets sont liés aux cosmologies et aux ontologies autochtones; ils sont porteurs de visions du monde et de modes d’être au monde spécifiques qui participent des processus actuels d’affirmations identitaires et politique. Dans ce contexte, il devient crucial de s’intéresser à la vie sociale des objets (Bonnot 2002, 2014 ; Koppytoff, 1986), des arbres (Rival 1998), de la forêt (Kohn 2013) ou encore des récits (Cruikshank 1998 ; Savard 1971, 2004 ; Vincent 2013). L’expérience corporelle (Goulet 1994, 1998 ; Laugrand 2013) et sensorielle (Classen 1993 ; Howes 2003, 2014 ; Mauzé et Rostkowski 2007) fait partie intrinsèque de ces patrimoines et de ces savoirs. Ceux-ci incluent à la fois des savoirs écologiques, des savoirs liés aux activités de chasse, de pêche et de cueillette, des savoirs rituels, des savoirs gastronomiques, des savoirs artisanaux et artistiques, des récits sous toutes leurs formes (création du monde, rêves, anecdotes, événements historiques, etc.), des savoirs liés aux réseaux d’alliance interfamiliale et d’affiliation territoriale, mais aussi des savoirs sur les objets ou sur les jeux traditionnels. Ces différents types de savoirs se transmettent et se transforment de manière créative, en étroite relation les uns aux autres. Les politiques historiques et contemporaines d’assimilation, de dépossession et d’usurpation de ces savoirs et de ces patrimoines conduisent à interroger les modalités institutionnelles de préservation et de mise en valeur de ces patrimoines autochtones. Souvent intégrés aux patrimoines nationaux et mis en valeur dans les musées d’État, les biens culturels autochtones ont longtemps échappé à leurs destinataires légitimes, les peuples autochtones eux-mêmes, les reléguant au statut de spectateurs de leurs propres cultures (Price 2007 ; Philips 2003, 2011). Depuis les années 1960-1970, les peuples autochtones ont largement contribué à la transformation, certes inachevée, des Musées de l’Autre en Musées de Soi et, dans certains cas, en Musées du Nous (De l’Étoisle, 2007). Présentés par le sociologue de l’art wendat (Québec) Guy Sioui Durand comme des musées mouroirs (Sioui Durand 2014), les institutions muséales et patrimoniales occidentales tentent aujourd’hui de (re)considérer leurs politiques et d’intégrer les savoirs autochtones dans leurs pratiques (Dubuc 2002, 2006 ; Kreps 2003). Certains cadres institutionnels ont favorisé ces changements. Pensons par exemple aux deux conventions de l’UNESCO pour la protection du patrimoine et des biens culturels immatériels (1972, 2003), au rapport sur les Musées et les peuples autochtones (Erasmus et al. 1994) au Canada, au Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA, 1990) aux États-Unis ou à la Déclaration de l’ONU sur les droits des peuples autochtones (AGNU 2007, article 31). Si les institutions muséales occidentales ont progressivement opéré un changement de paradigme (Fienup-Riordan 1999 ; Simpson 2001), les peuples autochtones se dotent aujourd’hui de moyens qui leurs sont propres afin de favoriser la protection, la mise en valeur, la transmission, et souvent la restitution de ces patrimoines et de ces savoirs, et par extension de leur histoire et de leur identité politique (Ames 1992 ; Peers 2000). Le développement de musées, de centres culturels, d’écoles de transmission des savoirs ou de programmes éducatifs culturellement ancrés s’inscrit dans des projets de sociétés qui visent le renforcement des structures de gouvernance et de la souveraineté des peuples autochtones. Il est dès lors impossible de parler des patrimoines autochtones sans parler de mise en valeur et de protection des savoirs, de restitution des données ethnographiques (Zonabend 1994 ; Glowczewski 2009 ; De Largy Healy 2011), de gestion collaborative des collections muséales, et évidemment de participation des peuples autochtones dans ces processus (Tuhiwai Smith 1999). La littérature, le cinéma, la musique, la bande dessinée, les romans graphiques, l’art contemporain, le design, le tourisme ou les réseaux socionumériques s’affirment aujourd’hui comme des éléments incontournables du patrimoine autochtone, mais également comme des stratégies de reconnaissance politique (Coulthard 2014) et d’autoreprésentation identitaire. Ces processus complexes de patrimonialisation institutionnelle nous amènent à considérer enfin les acteurs du patrimoine. Guides spirituels, artistes, chefs familiaux, conservateurs, muséologues, technolinguistes, chercheurs autodidactes, enseignants, aînés-gardiens du savoir ou jeunes activistes, ces experts culturels sont régulièrement sollicités afin de transmettre, de valoriser ou de protéger des savoirs et des pratiques qui se construisent aussi en dehors de l'institution, dans le cadre d'actions citoyennes, de projets communautaires ou de dynamiques familiales. Le territoire devient alors l'espace privilégié de patrimonialisation des pratiques et des savoirs autochtones dans lequel les femmes jouent un rôle central (Basile 2017). Ces médiateurs du patrimoine doivent également faire face à divers enjeux concernant les formes et les stratégies de patrimonialisation actuelles, comme par exemple l’appropriation culturelle et la propriété intellectuelle (Bell et Napoléon 2008 ; Bell 1992, 2014) et les processus de rapatriement des biens culturels. Les processus de rapatriement sont indissociables des mouvements d’affirmations identitaire et politique autochtones qui se développent et se renforcent depuis les années 1960-70 (Clifford 1997, 2007, 2013 ; Gagné 2012 ; Matthews 2014, 2016 ; Mauzé 2008, 2010). Les biens culturels acquis de manières illicites, les restes humains ou les objets culturels sacrés nécessaires à la transmission d’une tradition sont généralement considérés par les institutions comme admissibles aux processus de rapatriement. Même si le mouvement international d’affirmation politique autochtone a conduit au rapatriement de nombreux objets dans leurs milieux d’origine, les processus restent souvent dans l’impasse, et ce pour au moins trois raisons : les experts locaux doivent réunir une documentation importante sur l’objet ; les groupes autochtones ne possèdent pas les infrastructures nécessaires pour conserver l’objet ; les Musées d’État ne sont pas prêts à se départir de ‘leurs’ collections.

Certains ont déjà déclaré que le genre du film ethnographique n’existe pas (MacDougall, 1978), alors que d’autres soulignent la nature obsolète de sa définition (Friedman, 2017). Enfin, certains définissent le film ethnographique d’une manière si restreinte qu’ils mettent de côté tout un pan de son histoire. Par exemple, l’anthropologue américain et critique de films Jay Ruby (2000) définit le film ethnographique comme un film produit par un anthropologue pour des fins anthropologiques. Robert J. Flaherty, qui a réalisé le film Nanook of the North(1922), lui-même considéré comme le père du documentaire au cinéma et du film ethnographique, n’a jamais reçu une formation en anthropologie; sa première carrière était celle d’un prospecteur pour une compagnie ferroviaire dans la région de la Baie d’Hudson. Aussi, peut-on se demander : Est-il possible de réaliser un film ethnographique en adoptant une sensibilité anthropologique, sans toutefois être un.e anthropologue de formation? Nous sommes d’avis que oui. Une question demeure : Comment peut-on définir la sensibilité ethnographique du point de vue cinématographique? Le film ethnographique doit être caractérisé tout d’abord par une responsabilité éthique de la part de l’anthropologue-réalisateur. Cela signifie que celui-ci doit adopter une approche consciencieuse et respectueuse face à la manière dont il inclut « l’autre » soit dans le film soit dans le processus de réalisation. C’est ce qui peut différencier le film ethnographique d’un style cinématographique défini selon ses caractéristiques commerciales ou journalistiques. De plus, le film ethnographique est généralement basé sur de longues périodes d’études de terrain ou de recherche. L’anthropologue-réalisateur peut ainsi avoir entretenu des relations avec les protagonistes du film depuis une longue période de temps. Enfin, l’anthropologue-réalisateur doit démontrer un sincère intérêt à « parler près de » au lieu de « parler de » l’autre, comme le suggère la réalisatrice Trinh T. Minh-ha dans son film Reassamblage (1982) tourné au Sénégal, pour signifier l’intention de l’anthropologue de s’approcher de la réalité de « l’autre » plutôt que d’en parler d’une manière distante. L’histoire du film ethnographique est tissée serrée avec celle de la discipline de l’anthropologie d’une part, et des développements technologiques d’autre part. Les thèmes abordés, mais aussi la manière dont le visuel et le sonore sont traités, analysés et édités, sont en lien direct avec les enjeux et les questions soulevés par les anthropologues à différentes époques de l’histoire de la discipline. Par exemple, Margaret Mead (1975) définit l’anthropologie comme une discipline basée sur l’écrit. De plus, elle critique le fait que les anthropologues s’approprient très peu la caméra. Elle défend l’idée selon laquelle il faudrait favoriser l’utilisation du visuel comme outil de recherche objectif de collecte de données tout en adoptant un discours positiviste et scientifique. Cette approche, que certains qualifieront plus tard de « naïve » (Worth 1980), exclut la présence du réalisateur comme transposant sa subjectivité dans le film. Mead prenait pour acquis que la personne derrière la caméra n’influençait pas la nature des images captées, que sa présence ne changeait en rien les événements en cours, et que ceux et celles devant la caméra vaquaient à leurs occupations comme si la caméra n’y était pas. Cette croyance d’invisibilité de l’anthropologue, pouvant être qualifiée de « mouche sur le mur », suggère l’ignorance du fait que la présence du chercheur influence toujours le contexte dans lequel il se trouve, et ce d’autant plus s’il pointe sa caméra sur les gens. On devrait alors plutôt parler de « mouche dans la soupe » (Crawford 1992 : 67). La crise de la représentation qui a secoué l’anthropologie dans les années 1980 (Clifford & Marcus, 1986) a eu un impact majeur sur la manière dont les anthropologues commencèrent à s’interroger sur leurs pratiques de représentation à l’écrit. Cependant, cette révolution ne s’est pas fait sentir de manière aussi prononcée dans le domaine de l’anthropologie visuelle. Pourtant, les questions de représentations vont demeurer au centre des conversations en anthropologie visuelle jusque que dans les années 2000. Un mouvement progressif vers des approches non-représentationnelles (Vannini, 2015) encourage une exploration cinématographique qui arpente les sens, le mouvement et la relation entre l’anthropologie et l’art. Le film Leviathan (2013), des réalisateurs Lucien Castaing-Taylor et Véréna Paravel du Sensory Ethnography Lab à l’Université d’Harvard, porte sur une sortie en mer d’un bateau de pêche. Une vision presque kaléidoscopique des relations entre les poissons, la mer, les pêcheurs et les machines émerge de ce portrait cosmique du travail de la pêche. L’approche du visuel dans la production de films ethnographiques se développe donc de pair avec les enjeux contemporains de la discipline. La technologie influence également la manière avec laquelle les anthropologues-réalisateurs peuvent utiliser les appareils à leur disposition. Par exemple, l’invention de la caméra à l’épaule et du son synchronisé dans les années 1960 – où le son s’enregistre simultanément avec l'image –permet une plus grande flexibilité de mouvements et de possibilités filmiques. Il devient plus courant de voir des participants à un film avoir des échanges ou répondre à la caméra (par exemple Chronique d’un été de Jean Rouch et Edgar Morin (1961)) plutôt que d’avoir des commentaires en voix off par un narrateur dieu (par exemple The Hunters de John Marshall et Robert Gardner (1957)). Ces technologies ont donné naissance à de nouveaux genres filmiques tels que le cinéma-vérité associé à l’anthropologue-cinématographe français Jean Rouch et à une lignée de réalisateurs qui ont été influencés par son travail. Ses films Moi, un noir (1958), et Jaguar (1968) relancent les débats sur les frontières entre la fiction et le documentaire. Ils forcent les anthropologues à penser à une approche plus collaborative et partagée du film ethnographique. Les Australiens David et Judith MacDougall ont également contribué à ouvrir la voie à une approche qui encourage la collaboration entre les anthropologues-réalisateurs et les participants-protagonistes des films (Grimshaw 2008). Du point de vue de la forme du film, ils ont aussi été des pionniers dans l’introduction des sous-titres plutôt que l’utilisation de voix off, pour ainsi entendre l’intonation des voix. Il existe plusieurs genres et sous-genres de films ethnographiques, tels que les films observationnels, participatifs, d’auteur, sensoriels, expérimentaux, etc. Comme tout genre cinématographique, le film ethnographique s’identifie à une histoire, à une approche visuelle, à des influences et à des réalisateurs qui ont laissé leurs marques. En Amérique du Nord, dans les années 1950 et 1960, le cinéma direct, inspiré par le travail du cinéaste russe Dziga Vertoz, le Kino-Pravda (traduit comme « cinéma vérité », qui a aussi influencé Jean Rouch), avait pour objectif de capter la réalité telle qu’elle se déroule devant la caméra. Ce désir de refléter le commun et la vie de tous les jours a contribué à créer une esthétique cinématographique particulière. Optant pour un style observationnel, le cinéma direct est caractérisé par un rythme lent et de longues prises, peu de musique ou effets spéciaux, mettant souvent l’emphase sur l’observation minutieuse de processus (comme par exemple, le sacrifice d’un animal ou la construction d’un bateau) plutôt que sur une trame narrative forte. Au Québec, le film Les Raquetteurs (1958) coréalisé par Michel Brault et Gilles Groulx et produit par l’Office National du Film du Canada en est un bon exemple. Certains films, que l’on associe souvent au « quatrième » cinéma et qui sont caractérisés par une équipe autochtone, ont aussi contribué au décloisonnement du film ethnographique comme étant essentiellement une forme de représentation de l’autre. Fondée en 1999, Isuma Igloolik Production est la première compagnie de production inuite au Canada. Elle a produit et réalisé des films, dont Atanarjuat : The Fast Runner (2001) qui a gagné la Caméra d’Or à Cannes ainsi que six prix gémeaux. Grâce à la technologie numérique, qui a démocratisé la production du film ethnographique, on observe une éclosion des genres et des thèmes explorés par la vidéo ainsi qu’une prolifération des productions. Tout porte à croire que le film ethnographique et ses dérivés (vidéos, installations, compositions sonores avec images) sont en pleine expansion.

The purpose of the present study was to define the term “cyberbullying” from the perspective of middle- and high-school students in Vietnam, detailing its characteristics. The study used qualitative focus groups with Vietnamese students, teachers, parents, school psychologists, and psycho-educational experts in Hanoi, Vietnam. From the perspective of these informants, cyberbullying involves seven characteristics: (a) The indirect transmission of negative, untrue, hateful, and/ or secret, personal information through electronic devices and applications, (b) with the intention to hurt the victim, (c) which may or may not be part of a series of repetitive actions that nonetheless may have ongoing effects, (d) with the perpetrator an individual or a group, (e) in the context of a power imbalance relationship, (f) with the perpetrator(s) able to hide his or her identity, (g) and the bullying able to occur at all times in any place the victim has internet access. Keywords: Definition, characteristics, cyberbullying, students, Vietnam. References [1] Álvarez García, D., Núñez Pérez, J. C., Álvarez Pérez, L., Dobarro González, A., Rodríguez Pérez, C., & González Castro, M. P. (2011). Violencia a través de las tecnologías de la información y la comunicación en estudiantes de secundaria. Anales de psicología.[2] Aricak, T., Siyahhan, S., Uzunhasanoglu, A., Saribeyoglu, S., Ciplak, S., Yilmaz, N., & Memmedov, C. (2008). Cyberbullying among Turkish adolescents. Cyberpsychology & behavior, 11(3), 253-261.[3] Bauman, S. (2007), Cyberbullying: a Virtual Menace, Paper to be presented at the National Coalition Against Bullying National Conference, Melbourne, Australia.[4] Belsey, B. (2005), Cyberbullying. From: www.cyberbullying.ca.[5] Beran, T., Li, Q. (2007), The Relationship between Cyberbullying and School Bullying, Journal of Student Wellbeing, 1, 2, 15-33.[6] Berne, S., Frisén, A., Schultze-Krumbholz, A., Scheithauer, H., Naruskov, K., Luik, P., ... & Zukauskiene, R. (2013). Cyberbullying assessment instruments: A systematic review. Aggression and violent behavior, 18(2), 320-334.[7] Bottino, S. M. B., Bottino, C., Regina, C. G., Correia, A. V. L., & Ribeiro, W. S. (2015). Cyberbullying and adolescent mental health: systematic review. Cadernos de saude publica, 31, 463-475.[8] Buelga, S., Cava, M. J., & Musitu, G. (2010). Cyberbullying: victimización entre adolescentes a través del teléfono móvil y de Internet. Psicothema, 22(4), 784-789.[9] Cantone, E., Piras, A. P., Vellante, M., Preti, A., Daníelsdóttir, S., D’Aloja, E., ... & Bhugra, D. (2015). Interventions on bullying and cyberbullying in schools: A systematic review. Clinical practice and epidemiology in mental health: CP & EMH, 11(Suppl 1 M4), 58.[10] Carpenter, S. (2018). Ten Steps in Scale Development and Reporting: A Guide for Researchers. Communication Methods and Measures, 12(1), 25-44.[11] Connell, N. M., Schell-Busey, N. M., Pearce, A. N., & Negro, P. (2014). Badgrlz? Exploring sex differences in cyberbullying behaviors. Youth Violence and Juvenile Justice, 12(3), 209-228.[12] Trần Văn Công, Nguyễn Phương Hồng Ngọc, Ngô Thùy Dương, Nguyễn Thị Thắm (2015), Xây dựng thang đo bắt nạt trực tuyến cho học sinh Việt Nam, Kỷ yếu hội thảo khoa học cán bộ trẻ các trường Đại học sư phạm toàn quốc lần thứ V, NXB Giáo dục.[13] Trần Văn Công, Nguyễn Phương Hồng Ngọc, Ngô Thùy Dương, Nguyễn Thị Thắm (2015), Chiến lược ứng phó của học sinh với bắt nạt trực tuyến. Tạp chí Nghiên cứu Giáo dục, Đại học Quốc gia Hà Nội, tập 31, số 3, tr. 11-24. [14] Gámez-Guadix, M., Orue, I., Smith, P. K., & Calvete, E. (2013). Longitudinal and reciprocal relations of cyberbullying with depression, substance use, and problematic internet use among adolescents. Journal of Adolescent Health, 53(4), 446-452.[15] Garaigordobil, M. (2011). Prevalencia y consecuencias del cyberbullying: una revisión. International Journal of Psychology and Psychological Therapy, 11(2).[16] Hinduja, S., & Patchin, J. W. (2010). Bullying, cyberbullying, and suicide. Archives of suicide research, 14(3), 206-221.[17] Lê Thị Hải Hà, Nguyễn Thanh Hương, Trương Quang Tiến, Marilyn Campell, Michelle Gatton, Michael Dunne (2016), Giá trị và độ tin cậy của thang đo bị bắt nạt học đường và bắt nạt qua mạng: Kết quả nghiên cứu với học sinh đô thị Hà Nội và Hải Dương, Tạp chí Y tế Công cộng, số 40, tr. 199 - 204.[18] Nguyễn Thị Bích Hạnh, Trần Văn Công, (2017), Thực trạng bắt nạt trực tuyến ở học sinh trung học phổ thông trên địa bàn thành phố Đà Nẵng, Kỷ yếu Hội thảo quốc tế Tâm lý học Khu vực Đông Nam Á lần thứ nhất “Hạnh phúc con người và phát triển bền vững”, RCP 2017, Quyển 2, tr. 355-363. [19] Huang, Y., Chou, C. (2010), An analysis of multiple factors of cyberbullying among junior high school students in Taiwan, Computers in Human Behavior, 26, 1581–1590. From: http://www.elsevier.com/locate/comphumbeh.[20] Juvonen, J., & Gross, E. F. (2008). Extending the school grounds?—Bullying experiences in cyberspace. Journal of School health, 78(9), 496-505.[21] Li, Q. (2008). A cross-cultural comparison of adolescents' experience related to cyberbullying. Educational Research, 50(3), 223-234.[22] Lucas-Molina, B., Pérez-Albéniz, A., & Giménez-Dasí, M. (2016). The assessment of cyberbullying: The present situation and future challenge. Papeles Del Psicólogo, 37(1), 27-35.[23] Mark, L., & Ratliffe, K. T. (2011). Cyber worlds: New playgrounds for bullying. Computers in the Schools, 28(2), 92-116.[24] Menesini, E., Nocentini, A., Palladino, B. E., Frisén, A., Berne, S., Ortega-Ruiz, R., ... & Naruskov, K. (2012). Cyberbullying definition among adolescents: A comparison across six European countries. Cyberpsychology, Behavior, and Social Networking, 15(9), 455-463.[25] Mishna, F., Khoury-Kassabri, M., Gadalla, T., Daciuk, J. (2012), Risk factors for involvement in cyber bullying: Victims, bullies and bully–victims, Children and Youth Services Review, 34, 63–70. From: www.elsevier.com/locate/childyouth.[26] Naruskov, K., Luik, P., Nocentini, A., & Menesini, E. (2012). Estonian students'perception and definition of cyberbullying. Trames: A Journal of the Humanities & Social Sciences, 16(4).[27] Nguyễn Phương Hồng Ngọc, Trần Văn Công (2016), Hậu quả của bắt nạt trực tuyến ở học sinh trung học phổ thông, Kỷ yếu hội thảo quốc tế: Sang chấn tâm lý và các hoạt động trợ giúp, NXB Đại học Quốc gia Hà Nội, tr.51-63.[28] Olweus, D. (2010). Understanding and researching bullying: some critical issues (pp. 9-33). In. S. Jimerson; S. Swearer & D. Espelage (Eds.). Handbook of bullying in schools: an international perspective.[29] Olweus, D. (2013). School bullying: Development and some important challenges. Annual review of clinical psychology, 9, 751-780.[30] Padgett, S., & Notar, C. E. (2013). Bystanders Are the Key to Stopping Bullying. Universal Journal of Educational Research, 1(2), 33-41.[31] Patchin J., Hinduja, S. (2014), Words Wound: Delete Cyberbullying and Make Kindness Go Viral, Free Spirit Publishing.[32] Peterson, J.M. (2013), How to Beat Cyberbullying, First Edition, The Rosen Publishing Group, Inc.[33] Slonje, R., & Smith, P. K. (2008). Cyberbullying: Another main type of bullying?. Scandinavian journal of psychology, 49(2), 147-154.[34] Slonje, R., Smith, P. K., & FriséN, A. (2013). The nature of cyberbullying, and strategies for prevention. Computers in human behavior, 29(1), 26-32.[35] Smith, P. K. (2012). Cyberbullying and cyber aggression. In Handbook of school violence and school safety (pp. 111-121). Routledge.[36] Smith, P. K., Mahdavi, J., Carvalho, M., Fisher, S., Russell, S., & Tippett, N. (2008). Cyberbullying: Its nature and impact in secondary school pupils. Journal of child psychology and psychiatry, 49(4), 376-385.[37] Smith, P., Mahdavi, J., Carvalho, M., Tippett, N. (2006), An investigation into cyberbullying, its forms, awareness and impact, and the relationship between age and gender in cyberbullying, A Report to the Anti-Bullying Alliance, Goldsmiths College, University of London. [38] Stewart, R. W., Drescher, C. F., Maack, D. J., Ebesutani, C., & Young, J. (2014). The development and psychometric investigation of the Cyberbullying Scale. Journal of interpersonal violence, 29(12), 2218-2238.[39] Rogers, V. (2010), Cyberbullying: Activities to Help Children and Teens to Stay Safe in a texting, twittering, social networking world, Jessica Kingsley Publishers. [40] Thornberg, R., Tenenbaum, L., Varjas, K., Meyers, J., Jungert, T., & Vanegas, G. (2012). Bystander motivation in bullying incidents: To intervene or not to intervene?. Western Journal of Emergency Medicine, 13(3), 247.[41] Tokunaga, R. S. (2010). Following you home from school: A critical review and synthesis of research on cyberbullying victimization. Computers in human behavior, 26(3), 277-287.[42] Tokunaga, R. S. (2010). Following you home from school: A critical review and synthesis of research on cyberbullying victimization. Computers in human behavior, 26(3), 277-287.[43] Vismara, M. F. M., Toaff, J., Pulvirenti, G., Settanni, C., Colao, E., Lavano, S. M., ... & Montera, R. (2017). Internet use and access, behavior, cyberbullying, and grooming: results of an investigative whole city survey of adolescents. Interactive journal of medical research, 6(2).[44] Wade, A., Beran, T. (2011), Cyberbullying: The new era of bullying, Canadian Journal of School Psychology, 26, 1, 44 - 61. [45] Willard, N, E. (2007), The authority and responsibility of school officials in responding to cyberbullying, Journal of Adolescent Health, 41, S64-S65.

Kylie Minogue, her interviewer tells us in the October 2000 issue of Sky Magazine, is a "fatalist": meaning she "believe[s] everything happens for a reason" (Minogue "Kylie" 20). And what kind of reason would that be? Well, the Australian singer gives us a few clues in her interview of the previous month with Attitude, which she liberally peppers with references to her personal beliefs (Minogue "Special K" 43-46). When asked why she shouldn't be on top all the time, she explains: "It's yin and yang. It's all in the balance." A Taoist – or at any rate Chinese – perspective then? Yet, when asked whether it's important to be a good person, she responds: "Do unto others." That's St. Matthew, therefore Biblical, therefore probably Christian. But hang on. When asked about karma, she replies: "Karma is my religion." That would be Hindu, or at least Buddhist, wouldn't it? Still she goes on … "I have guilt if anything isn't right." Now, far be it from us to perpetuate religious stereotypes, but that does sound rather more like a Western church than either Hinduism or Buddhism. So what gives? Clearly there have always been religious references made by Western pop stars, the majority of them, unsurprisingly, Christian, given that this has traditionally been the major Western religion. So there's not much new about the Christian references of Tina Arena or Céline Dion, or the thankyous to God offered up by Britney Spears or Destiny's Child. There's also little that's new in references to non-Christian religions – who can forget the Beatles' flirtation with Hinduism back in the 1960s, Tina Turner's conversion to Buddhism or Cat Stevens' to Islam in the 1970s, or the Tibetan Freedom concerts of the mid- to late nineties organised by the Beastie Boys' Adam Yauch, himself a Buddhist convert? What is rather new about this phenomenon in Western pop music, above and beyond its scale, is the faintly dizzying admixture of religions to be found in the songs or words of a single artist or group, of which Kylie's interviews are a paradigmatic but hardly isolated example. The phenomenon is also evident in the title track from Affirmation, the 1999 album by Kylie's compatriots, Savage Garden, whose worldview extends from karma to a non-evangelised/ing God. In the USA, it's there in the Buddhist and Christian references which meet in Tina Turner, the Christian and neo-pagan imagery of Cyndi Lauper's recent work, and the Christian iconography which runs into buddhas on Australian beaches on REM's 1998 album Up. Of course, Madonna's album of the same year, Ray of Light, coasts on this cresting trend, its lyrics laced with terms such as angels, "aum", churches, earth [personified as female], Fate, Gospel, heaven, karma, prophet, "shanti", and sins; nor are such concerns entirely abandoned on her 2000 album Music. In the UK, Robbie Williams' 1998 smash album I've Been Expecting You contains, in immediate succession, tracks entitled "Grace", "Jesus in a Camper Van", "Heaven from Here" … and then "Karma Killer". Scottish-born Annie Lennox's journey through Hare Krishna and Buddhism does not stop her continuing in the Eurythmics' pattern of the eighties and littering her words with Christian imagery, both in her nineties solo work and the songs written in collaboration with Dave Stewart for the Eurythmics' 1999 reunion. In 2000, just a year after her ordination in the Latin Tridentine Church, Irish singer Sinéad O'Connor releases Faith and Courage, with its overtones of Wicca and paganism in general, passing nods to Islam and Judaism, a mention of Rasta and part-dedication to Rastafarians, and considerable Christian content, including a rendition of the "Kyrié Eléison". Even U2, amongst their sometimes esoteric Christian references, find room to cross grace with karma on their 2000 album All That You Can't Leave Behind. In Germany, Marius Müller-Westernhagen's controversial single "Jesus" from his 1998 chart-topping album Radio Maria, named after a Catholic Italian radio station, sees him in countless interviews elaborating on themes such as God as universal energy, the importance of prayer, the (unnamed but implicit) idea of karma and his interest in Buddhism. Over a long career, the eccentric Nina Hagen lurches through Christianity, Hinduism, Hare Krishna, and on towards her 2000 album Return of the Mother, where these influences are mixed with a strong Wiccan element. In France, Mylène Farmer's early gothic references to Catholicism and mystical overtones lead towards her "Méfie-toi" ("Be Careful"), from the 1999 album Innamoramento, with its references to God, the Virgin, Buddha and karma. In Italy, Gianna Nannini goes looking for the soul in her 1998 "Peccato originale" ("Original sin"), while on the same album, Cuore (Heart), invoking the Hindu gods Shiva and Brahma in her song "Centomila" ("One Hundred Thousand"). "The world is craving spirituality so much right now", Carlos Santana tells us in 1995. "If they could sell it at McDonald's, it would be there. But it's not something you can get like that. You can only wake up to it, and music is the best alarm" (qtd. in Obstfeld & Fitzgerald 166). It seems we're dealing here with quite a significant development occurring under the auspices of postmodernism – that catch-all term for the current mood and trends in Western culture, one of whose most conspicuous manifestations is generally considered to be a pick 'n' mix attitude towards artefacts from cultures near and distant, past, present and future. This rather controversial cultural eclecticism is often flatly equated with the superficiality and commercialism of a generation with no historical or critical perspective, no interest in obtaining one, and an obsession with shopping for lifestyle accessories. Are pop's religious references, in fact, simply signifieds untied from signifiers, symbols emptied of meaning but amusing to play with? When Annie Lennox talks of doing a "Zen hit" (Lennox & Stewart n.pag.), or Daniel Jones describes himself and Savage Garden partner Darren Hayes as being like "Yin and Yang" (Hayes & Jones n.pag.), are they merely borrowing trendy figures of speech with no reflection on what lies – or should lie – or used to lie behind them? When Madonna samples mondial religions on Ray of Light, is she just exploiting the commercial potential inherent in this Shiva-meets-Chanel spectacle? Is there, anywhere in the entire (un)holy hotchpotch, something more profound at work? To answer this question, we'll need to take a closer look at the trends within the mixture. There isn't any answer in religion Don't believe one who says there is But… The voices are heard Of all who cry The first clear underlying pattern is evident in these words, taken from Sinéad O'Connor's "Petit Poulet" on her 1997 Gospel Oak EP, where she attacks religion, but simultaneously undermines her own attack in declaring that the voices "[o]f all who cry" will be heard. This is the same singer who, in 1992, tears up a picture of the Pope on "Saturday Night Live", but who is ordained in 1999, and fills her 2000 album Faith and Courage with religious references. Such a stance can only make sense if we assume that she is assailing, in general, the organised and dogmatised version(s) of religion expounded by many churches - as well as, in particular, certain goings-on within the Catholic Church - but not religion or the God-concept in and of themselves. Similarly, in 1987, U2's Bono states his belief that "man has ruined God" (qtd. in Obstfeld & Fitzgerald 174) – but U2 fans will know that religious, particularly Christian, allusions have far from disappeared from the band's lyrics. When Stevie Wonder admits in 1995 to being "skeptical of churches" (ibid. 175), or Savage Garden's Darren Hayes sings in "Affirmation" that he "believe[s] that God does not endorse TV evangelists", they are giving expression to pop's typical cynicism with regard to organised religion in the West – whether in its traditional or modern/evangelical forms. Religion, it seems, needs less organisation and more personalisation. Thus Madonna points out that she does not "have to visit God in a specific area" and "like[s] Him to be everywhere" (ibid.), while Icelandic singer Björk speaks for many when she comments: "Well, I think no two people have the same religion, and a lot of people would call that being un-religious [sic]. But I'm actually very religious" (n.pag.). Secondly, there is a commonly-expressed sentiment that all faiths should be viewed as equally valid. Turning again to Sinéad O'Connor, we hear her sing on "What Doesn't Belong to Me" from Faith and Courage: "I'm Irish, I'm English, I'm Moslem, I'm Jewish, / I'm a girl, I'm a boy". Annie Lennox, her earlier involvement with Hare Krishna and later interest in Tibetan Buddhism notwithstanding, states categorically in 1992: "I've never been a follower of any one religion" (Lennox n.pag.), while Nina Hagen puts it this way: "the words and religious group one is involved with doesn't [sic] matter" (Hagen n.pag.). Whatever the concessions made by the Second Vatican Council or advanced by pluralist movements in Christian theology, such ideological tolerance still draws strong censure from certain conventional religious sources – Christian included – though not from all. This brings us to the third and perhaps most crucial pattern. Not surprisingly, it is to our own Christian heritage that singers turn most often for ideas and images. When it comes to cross-cultural borrowings, however, this much is clear: equal all faiths may be, but equally mentioned they are not. Common appropriations include terms such as karma (Robbie Williams' 1998 "Karma Killer", Mylène Farmer's 1999 "Méfie-toi", U2's 2000 "Grace") and yin and yang (see the above-quoted Kylie and Savage Garden interviews), concepts like reincarnation (Tina Tuner's 1999/2000 "Whatever You Need") and non-attachment (Madonna's 1998 "To Have and Not to Hold"), and practices such as yoga (from Madonna through to Sting) and even tantrism (Sting, again). Significantly, all of these are drawn from the Eastern faiths, notably Hinduism, Buddhism and Taoism, though they also bear a strong relation to ideas found in various neo-pagan religions such as Wicca, as well as in many mystical traditions. Eastern religions, neo-paganism, mysticism: these are of course the chief sources of inspiration for the so-called New Age, which constitutes an ill-defined, shape-shifting conglomeration of beliefs standing outside the mainstream Middle Eastern/Western monotheistic religious pantheon. As traditional organised religion comes under attack, opening up the possibility of a personal spirituality where we can pick and choose, and as we simultaneously seek to redress the imbalance of religious understanding by extending tolerance to other faiths, it is unsurprising that we are looking for alternatives to the typical dogmatism of Christianity, Islam and even Judaism, to what German singer Westernhagen sees as the "punishing God" of the West ("Rock-Star" n.pag.). Instead, we find ourselves drawn to those distant faiths whose principles seem, suddenly, to have so much to offer us, including a path out of the self-imposed narrow-mindedness with which, all too often, the major Western religions seem to have become overlaid. Despite certain differences, the Eastern faiths and their New Age Western counterparts typically speak of a life force grounding all the particular manifestations we see about us, a balance between male and female principles, and a reverence for nature, while avoiding hierarchies, dogma, and evangelism, and respecting the equal legitimacy of all religions. The last of these points has already been mentioned as a central issue in pop spirituality, and it is not difficult to see that the others dovetail with contemporary Western cultural ideals and concerns: defending human rights, promoting freedom, equality and tolerance, establishing international peace, and protecting the environment. However limited our understanding of Eastern religions may be, however convenient that may prove, and however questionable some of our cultural ideals might seem, whether because of their naïveté or their implicit imperialism, the message is coming through loud and clear in the world of pop: we are all part of one world, and we'd better work together. Madonna expresses it this way in "Impressive Instant" on her 2000 album, Music: Cosmic systems intertwine Astral bodies drip like wine All of nature ebbs and flows Comets shoot across the sky Can't explain the reasons why This is how creation goes Her words echo what others have said. In "Jag är gud" ("I am god") from her 1991 En blekt blondins hjärta (A Bleached Blonde's Heart), the Swedish Eva Dahlgren sings: "varje själ / är en del / jag är / jag är gud" ("every soul / is a part / I am / I am god"); in a 1995 interview Sting observes: "The Godhead, or whatever you want to call it - it's better not to give it a name, is encoded in our being" (n.pag.); while Westernhagen remarks in 1998: "I believe in God as universal energy. God is omnipresent. Everyone can be Jesus. And in everyone there is divine energy. I am convinced that every action on the part of an individual influences the whole universe" ("Jesus" n.pag.; my transl.). In short, as Janet Jackson puts it in "Special" from her 1997 The Velvet Rope: "You have to learn to water your spiritual garden". Secularism is on its way out – perhaps playing the material girl or getting sorted for E's & wizz wasn't enough after all – and religion, it seems, is on its way back in. Naturally, there is no denying that pop is also variously about entertainment, relaxation, rebellion, vanity or commercialism, and that it can, from time to time and place to place, descend into hatred and bigotry. Moreover, pop singers are as guilty as everyone else of, at least some of the time, choosing words carelessly, perhaps merely picking up on something that is in the air. But by and large, pop is a good barometer of wider society, whose trends it, in turn, influences and reinforces: in other words, that something in the air really is in the air. Then again, it's all very well for pop stars to dish up a liberal religious smorgasbord, assuring us that "All is Full of Love" (Björk) or praising the "Circle of Life" (Elton John), but what purpose does this fulfil? Do we really need to hear this? Is it going to change anything? We've long known, thanks to John Lennon, that you can imagine a liberal agenda, supporting human rights or peace initiatives, without religion – so where does religion fit in? It has been suggested that the emphasis of religion is gradually changing, moving away from the traditional Western focus on transcendence, the soul and the afterlife. Derrida has claimed that religion is equally, or even more importantly, about hospitality, about human beings experiencing and acting out of a sense of the communal responsibility of each to all others. This is a view of God as, essentially, the idealised sum of humanity's humanity. And Derrida is not alone in giving voice to such musings. The Dalai Lama has implied that the key to spirituality in our time is "a sense of universal responsibility" (n.pag.), while Vaclav Havel has described transcendence as "a hand reached out to those close to us, to foreigners, to the human community, to all living creatures, to nature, to the universe" (n.pag.). It may well be that those who are attempting to verbalise a liberal agenda and clothe it in expressive metaphors are discovering that there are - and have always been - many useful tools among the global religions, and many sources of inspiration among the tolerant, pluralistic faiths of the East. John Lennon's imaginings aside, then, let us briefly revisit the world of pop. Nina Hagen's 1986 message "Love your world", from "World Now", a plea for peace repeated in varying forms throughout her career, finds this formulation in 2000 on the title track of Return of the Mother: "My revelation is a revolution / Establish justice for all in my world". In 1997, Sinéad points out in "4 My Love" from her Gospel Oak EP: "God's children deserve to / sleep safe in the night now love", while in the same year, in "Alarm Call" from Homogenic, Björk speaks of her desire to "free the human race from suffering" with the help of music and goes on: "I'm no fucking Buddhist but this is enlightenment". In 1999, the Artist Formerly Known as Prince tells an interviewer that "either we can get in here now and fix [our problems] and do the best we can to help God fix [them], or we can... [y]ou know, punch the clock in" (4). So, then, instead of encouraging the punching in of clocks, here is pop being used as a clarion-call to the faith-full. Yet pop - think Band Aid, Live Aid and Net Aid - is not just about words. When, in the 2000 song "Peace on Earth", Bono sings "Heaven on Earth / We need it now" or when, in "Grace", he begs for grace to be allowed to cancel out karma, he is already playing his part in fronting the Drop the Debt campaign for Jubilee 2000, while U2 supports organisations such as Amnesty International, Greenpeace and War Child. It is no coincidence that the Eurythmics choose to entitle their 1999 comeback album Peace, or give one of its tracks a name with a strong Biblical allusion, "Power to the Meek": not only has Annie Lennox been a prominent supporter of the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan cause, but she and Dave Stewart have divided the proceeds of their album and accompanying world tour between Amnesty International and Greenpeace. Religion, it appears, can offer more than hackneyed rhymes: it can form a convenient metaphorical basis for solidarity and unity for those who are, so to speak, prepared to put their money - and time and effort - where their mouths are. Annie Lennox tells an interviewer in 1992: "I hate to disappoint you, but I don't have any answers, I'm afraid. I've only written about the questions." (n.pag). If a cursory glance at contemporary Western pop tells us anything, it is that religion, in its broadest and most encompassing sense, while not necessarily offering all the important answers, is at any rate no longer seen to lie beyond the parameters of the important questions. This is, perhaps, the crux of today's increasing trend towards religious eclecticism. When Buddha meets Christ, or karma intersects with grace, or the Earth Goddess bumps into Shiva, those who've engineered these encounters are - moving beyond secularism but also beyond devotion to any one religion - asking questions, seeking a path forward, and hoping that at the points of intersection, new possibilities, new answers - and perhaps even new questions - will be found. References Björk. "Björk FAQ." [Compiled by Lunargirl.] Björk - The Ultimate Intimate. 1999. 26 Jan. 2001. <http://bjork.intimate.org/quotes/>. Dalai Lama. "The Nobel [Peace] Lecture." [Speech delivered on 11.12.89.] His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama of Tibet. The Office of Tibet and the Tibetan Government-in-Exile. Undated. 26 Jan. 2001. <http://www.dalailama.com/html/nobel.php>. Hagen, N. "Nina Hagen Living in Ekstasy." [Interview with M. Hesseman; translation by M. Epstein.] Nina Hagen Electronic Shrine. Undated. 26 Jan. 2001. <http://208.240.252.87/nina/interv/living.html Havel, V. "The Need for Transcendence in the Postmodern World." [Speech delivered on 04.07.94.] World Transformation. Undated. 26 Jan. 2001. <http://www.worldtrans.org/whole/havelspeech.php>. Hayes, D. & D. Jones. Interview [with Musiqueplus #1 on 23.11.97; transcribed by M. Woodley]. To Savage Garden and Back. Undated. 26 Jan. 2001. <http://www.igs.net/~woodley/musique2.htm>. Lennox, A. Interview [with S. Patterson; from Details, July 1992]. Eurythmics Frequently Asked Questions. Undated. 26 Jan. 2001. <http://www1.minn.net/~egusto/a67.htm>. Lennox, A. & D. Stewart. Interview [from Interview Magazine, December 1999]. Eurythmics Frequently Asked Questions. Undated. 26 Jan. 2001. <http://www1.minn.net/~egusto/a64.htm>. Minogue, K. "Kylie." [Interview with S. Patterson.] Sky Magazine October 2000: 14-21. Minogue, K. "Special K." [Interview with P. Flynn.] Attitude September 2000: 38-46. Obstfeld, R. & P. Fitzgerald. Jabberrock: The Ultimate Book of Rock 'n' Roll Quotations. New York: Henry Holt, 1997. [The Artist Formerly Known as] Prince. A Conversation with Kurt Loder. [From November 1999.] MTV Asia Online. Undated. 26 Jan. 2001. <http://www.mtvasia.com/Music/Interviews/Old/Prince1999November/index.php>. Sting. Interview [with G. White; from Yoga Journal, December 1995]. Stingchronicity. Undated. 26 Jan. 2001. <http://www.stingchronicity.co.uk/yogajour.php>. [Müller-] Westernhagen, M. "Jesus, Maria und Marius." [From Focus, 10.08.98.] Westernhagen-Fanpage. Undated. 26 Jan. 2001. <http://home.t-online.de/home/340028046011-001/Presse/Focus/19980810.htm>. [Müller-] Westernhagen, M. "Rock-Star Marius Müller-Westernhagen: 'Liebe hat immer mit Gott zu tun.'" [From Bild der Frau, no.39/98, 21.09.98.] Westernhagen-Fanpage. Undated. 26 Jan. 2001. <http://home.t-online.de/home/340028046011-001/Presse/BildderFrau/19980921.htm>.

L’eau a creusé son chemin jusqu’au cœur des discussions sur le développement durable. Les discours autour de la gestion des eaux soulignent à la fois son abondance dévastatrice et son absence critique : la montée des eaux se juxtapose à la désertification ; les tornades et les inondations répondent à des périodes de sécheresse prolongées. Alors que nous polluons, canalisons et dessalinisons à un rythme toujours croissant, la nature ambiguë de notre relation avec l’eau devient visible. Pendant que nous continuons d’endommager ce qui, par-dessus tout, rend la vie possible, la précarité augmente pour l’ensemble de la population. Il n’est donc pas étonnant qu’un changement de paradigme dans notre compréhension des eaux, devant engendrer une modification dans leur utilisation, soit présenté comme l’un des plus grands et plus pressants défis de notre époque. Ma recherche répond à ce défi. Elle porte sur la poétique de l’espace, c’est-à-dire sur l’étude de la manière dont les êtres humains vivent et interagissent avec leur environnement à travers les arts. Plus précisément, j’explore les relations entre les humains, les eaux et les sons (à la fois propres et générés par les humains) dans la Lower Murray Country (Australie Méridionale). Mon but est de révéler et théoriser ces relations qui évoluent en parallèle afin d’élaborer une cartographie mettant à jour toute une gamme de manières de percevoir et de comprendre ces eaux, et d’être ensuite à même d’utiliser cette pluralité pour remettre en question—et potentiellement imaginer à nouveau—leur construction et représentation culturelles. Afin d’atteindre ce but, j’érige “les eaux” en leitmotiv qui me permet d’unifier ma recherche et me déplacer entre des espaces physiques et théoriques pour mettre en dialogue les individus et leur environnement, tant au niveau local que général. En particulier, je me sers du mouvement des eaux que forment le courant et la résonance pour opérer cette synthèse, mouvement que j’associe à la rythmanalyse et la réverbération (d’après les philosophes Henri Lefebvre et Fran Dyson, respectivement). Je me suis également inspirée du travail du philosophe et poète Édouard Glissant. En particulier, son concept de Relation est une clef pour me permettre de traduire textuellement ces mouvements des eaux. J’applique cette méthodologie aqueuse à presque deux siècles de production musicale—allant des pratiques ngarrindjeri et des ballades coloniales à la musique classique contemporaine et l’art sonore ; et presque deux siècles de modifications touchant au “caractère sonore” des eaux de la Lower Murray Country—matérialisée à travers la déforestation défigurante, la retenue des eaux, l’irrigation mais aussi la salinité croissante des eaux comme des sols. Ainsi, cette thèse se construit selon le principe d’accumulation d’exemples prôné par Glissant (Poetics of Relation 172-4). Elle est structurée autour de quatre sections—quatre visions punctiformes des eaux écrites comme un prélude à une potentielle infinité d’autres. Furtives, partielles, orientées et fragmentées, ces visions procèdent de périodes particulièrement significatives : de périodes pouvant subir des changements, de périodes charnières où des altérations radicales peuvent poindre ou apparaître effectivement
Waters are contested entities that are currently at the centre of most scientific discussions about sustainability. Discourse around water management underlines both the serious absence and devastating overabundance of water: rising sea levels compete against desertification; hurricanes and floods follow periods of prolonged drought. As we increasingly pollute, canalise and desalinate waters, the ambiguous nature of our relationship with these entities becomes visible. And, while we continue to damage what most sustains us, collective precarity grows. It is therefore unsurprising that shifting our understanding, and subsequent use, of water has been described as one of the biggest—and most pressing—challenges of our time.My research answers to this challenge. It centres on spatial poetics, that is, on the manner in which people engage and interact with their environment through art. More precisely, I explore the relationships between humans, waters and sound—both intrinsic and human-produced—in Lower Murray Country (South Australia). My aim is to unveil, theorise and create maps of these co-evolving relationships to reveal an array of manners to perceive and relate to these waters; and then draw on this plurality to question—and potentially reimagine—their cultural construction and representation. In order to do so, I transform waters into a leitmotif which enables me to weave my investigation together and move in-between theoretical and physical spaces to bring people and their environments into dialogue, both at the local and global levels. In particular, I draw on the watery movements of flow and resonance to operate this weaving, and associate these with rhythmanalysis and resounding (after philosophers Henri Lefebvre and Fran Dyson, respectively). I am also inspired by the work of philosopher and poet Édouard Glissant and use his concept of Relation as a key to enable me to translate these watery movements textually.I apply this aqueous theoretical frame to nearly two centuries of sonic production—ranging from Ngarrindjeri performance and colonial ballads through to contemporary classical music and sound art; and to nearly two centuries of evolution in the sonic character of Lower Murray Country’s waters—ranging from disfiguring deforestation and damming through to rising salinity and irrigation. As such, this thesis is built on the “accumulation of examples” advocated by Glissant (Poetics of Relation 172-4). It is structured around four sections—four punctiform visions of waters written as a prelude to a potential infinity of others. Furtive, partial, oriented and fragmented, these visions denote times of particular significance: times open to challenge; times of hinges and articulations where radical alteration (can) occur