Journal articles on the topic 'Nee, Watchman'

Indigenous Chinese preacher Watchman Nee is considered to have had the greatest theological influence on China’s vibrant house church movement, yet there are few studies detailing his influence on church practices. This paper analyzes the writings of Watchman Nee and other Local Church members to show how Nee contextualized the message of Western missionaries to China, using subaltern strategies of returning to scriptural fundamentals and reducing the scale of organization and worship. He divested mission Christianity of its hegemonic trappings and created flexible Christian practices, which take place in the ‘divine and mystical realm,’ out of reach from ‘worldly’ power structures.

The article discusses the pneumatology of Watchman Nee and the five questions raised by it. First, does the NT distinguish between being ‘filled with the Holy Spirit’ and being ‘full of the Holy Spirit’ in terms of duration (shorter versus longer period of time) and function (power for ministry versus spiritual maturity and life)? Second, does the NT distinguish between the outpoured Spirit (the Spirit coming ‘upon’ a person) and the indwelling Spirit (the Spirit entering ‘into’ and dwelling ‘in’ a person)? Third, does the NT more or less equate baptism in the Holy Spirit with being ‘filled with the Holy Spirit’? Fourth, are there two comings of the Holy Spirit, one at Easter (John 20:22) and the other at Pentecost (Acts 2:1-42)? Fifth, does the NT distinguish the Spirit as an influence (giving converts new life) and the Spirit as a person (enabling believers to enter into a deeper and more Spirit-filled life)? The article concludes that while there are indeed differences between the various phrases, they are not of the kind specified by Nee. More importantly, there are not two comings of the Spirit in the NT.

The experience of Watchman Nee (Ni Tuosheng) and the Christian Assembly (Jidutu juhuichu or Jidutu juhuisuo) in Mainland China after the Communist Revolution of 1949 reveals the complexity of church and state relations in the early 1950s. Widely known in the West as the Little Flock (Xiaoqun), the Christian Assembly, founded by Watchman Nee, was one of the fastest growing native Protestant movements in China during the early twentieth century. It was not created by a foreign missionary enterprise. Nor was it based on the Anglo-American Protestant denominational model. And its rapid development fitted well with an indigenous development called the Three-Self Movement, in which Chinese Christians created self-supporting, selfgoverning, and self-propagating churches. But it did not share the highly politicized anti-imperialist rhetoric of another Three-Self Movement, the Communist-initiated “Three-Self Patriotic Movement” (sanzi aiguo yundong): self-rule autonomous from foreign missionary and imperialist control, financial self-support without foreign donations, and self-preaching independent of any Christian missionary influences. As the overarching organization of the one-party state, the Three-Self Patriotic Movement sought to ensure that all Chinese Protestant congregations would submit to the socialist ideology.

This article will examine aspects of Watchman Nee's interactions with British churches and missions during the 1920s and 1930s. It will argue that, rather than simply appropriating and adapting Christianity for a Chinese context, as has been claimed, a more complex exchange was taking place. In particular, Nee was seeking to develop churches in China on a primitivist basis – that is, using the New Testament as a model for church forms and practices. In this, he was drawing inspiration from the Christian (or Plymouth) Brethren, a radical evangelical group that had emerged in Britain during the nineteenth century. For a number of reasons, the significance of Nee's primitivism has been played down, both by his admirers in the West and by historians. However, it was a vital factor in the success of his movement and gave an important impetus to the spread of Christianity in China during the twentieth century.

AbstractThe majority of Chinese Christians can be considered to be theologically conservative. One distinctive feature of conservative theology is Biblicism, according to which Scripture occupies a central role. The Reformation principle of sola scriptura legitimises this conservative stance and calls for a stern application of this principle. As Biblicists, they are discontented with the ‘unbiblical’ practices and ministries of missionaries. On the other hand, missionaries have put forward the Union Version translation project on the basis of the principle of sola scriptura. This article investigates how Watchman Nee (1903–72) and Wang Mingdao (1900–91) were discursively influenced by the missionaries’ Union Version Bible translation project through their different understandings of sola scriptura. For missionaries, sola scriptura required the translation of a faithful and popular Chinese Bible, and Mandarin was deemed an appropriate language for the task. While Nee and Wang did not appreciate the missionary enterprise, for sola scriptura they valued the Chinese Union Version as an outstanding and up-to-date translation of the Scripture. For Nee and Wang, sola scriptura was not only a translation principle, but also a principle underpinning religious life. Conservative Christians’ devotional practice emphasises the memorising of biblical texts and verbalising them throughout the day. This practice resulted in the Union Version, which is written in eloquent modern Chinese, becoming an integral part of Chinese Christian practice rather than a mere translation. Though Nee and Wang accused missionaries of having betrayed the Reformation principle, they were still under its influence thanks to the Chinese Union Version Bible. Also, their teaching on biblical reading had similarities with the medieval monastic practice of lectio divina. In this sense, the Chinese Union Version Bible reveals an interesting integration of Chinese conservative Christian faith, missionary enterprise, sola scriptura, and a monastic style of spiritual practice within the Chinese Church.

Worldwide followers of the late Chinese Christian reformers Watchman Nee and Witness Lee share a central concern with human-divine ‘oneness’, but there are different understandings in different localities about how such oneness works. I utilize one such difference by analyzing group unity in Euro-America using Taiwanese understandings of oneness, which involve things (selfsame unities) but not relations. Experimenting with Dumontian, Strathernian, and object-oriented anthropologies, I show that anthropological analysis is currently possible (a) by emphasizing things, (b) by emphasizing relations, and (c) entirely without relations. Anthropology entirely without things, however, has not yet been achieved. I conclude by suggesting reasons why we might want to attain this final possibility in our approach to things and/or relations.

Abstract Worldwide followers of the late Chinese Christian reformers Watchman Nee and Witness Lee share a central concern with human-divine ‘oneness’, but there are different understandings in different localities about how such oneness works. I utilize one such difference by analyzing group unity in Euro-America using Taiwanese understandings of oneness, which involve things (selfsame unities) but not relations. Experimenting with Dumontian, Strathernian, and object-oriented anthropologies, I show that anthropological analysis is currently possible (a) by emphasizing things, (b) by emphasizing relations, and (c) entirely without relations. Anthropology entirely without things, however, has not yet been achieved. I conclude by suggesting reasons why we might want to attain this final possibility in our approach to things and/or relations.

The persecution of Chinese Christians after the outbreak of the Korean War raised important questions about faith and politics in a state-centric society. This article examines the experience and memory of three Protestant religious prisoners in the Maoist era: Watchman Nee (Ni Tuosheng 倪柝声), who founded the Christian Assembly (jidutu juhuichu基督徒聚会处) or Little Flock (xiaoqun小群) in early twentieth-century China; Epaphras Wu (Wu Weizun 吳维僔), an active Little Flock member; and Robert Huang (Huang Zhaojian 黃兆坚), who organized Seventh-Day Adventist activities in 1950s Shanghai. The persecution stories of these religious leaders entered Chinese Christian hagiography, providing Chinese Christians with a shared cultural resource that transcended denominational and theological differences. Central to my investigation are questions about how Christians reacted to Maoism, how they came to terms with the traumatizing experience of incarceration as part of a broader life struggle, and how Chinese churches made sense of these persecution narratives to assert their faith and agency. A closer look at the history of these religious prisoners enables us to capture faith-based resistance at an individual level, and to contextualize the particularities of each persecution in the Maoist period.朝鲜战争爆发之后，对基督徒的迫害在中国这样一个国家主导的社会里是一个严重的信仰与政治问题。本文探究了毛泽东时代三位基督新教徒囚犯的经历与回忆。第一位是倪柝声，二十世纪早期中国基督徒聚会处或小群的创始人；吴维僔，一位活跃的小群信徒；以及黄兆坚，50年代上海基督复临安息日会活动的组织者。这三位基督徒领袖受迫害的故事纳入了中国基督徒的圣人史，为中国基督徒提供了超越宗派神学差异的共享文化资源。本文的核心问题是，这些基督徒如何应对毛泽东思想，他们如何忍受漫长的囚禁生涯，以及中国教会如何理解这些事迹以维护其信仰与教会。深入分析这些被囚基督徒的历史能帮助我们捕捉个人层面以信仰为根基的反抗，以及理解毛时期每个逼迫案例的独特性。

Percutaneous left atrial appendage occlusion (LAAO) is a device-based therapy for the prevention of stroke in patients with nonvalvular atrial fibrillation (AF). Recently, the Watchman device (Boston Scientific, St Paul, MN, US) was approved in the US by the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) based on the results of two randomised clinical trials that evaluated LAAO in patients eligible for oral anticoagulation (OAC) therapy. However, in real-word clinical practice LAAO is typically offered to patients ineligible for OAC therapy, as they appear to have limited treatment options and consequently worse prognosis. Although LAAO has shown favourable clinical outcomes in OAC-ineligible patients in single or multicentre observational studies, these results need to be confirmed in randomised clinical trials.

Of the ten fastest growing economies since 1960, eight are in East Asia. As Haggard (2018) aptly demonstrates for Northeast Asia, two explanations account for this exceptional regional performance. On the one hand, neo-liberals committed to an Anglo-American night-watchman state (Krueger 1978; Bhagwati 1978; Edwards 1993; World Bank 1993; Pack and Saggi 2006) attribute performance to macroeconomic stability, provision of public goods, and openness to trade and investment. On the other hand, a heterodox group (Johnson 1982; Amsden 1989; Wade 1990/2004; Chang 2002, 1994; Rodrik 1995; Evans 1995; Lin 2009) focuses on market and coordination failures and the need for states to adopt pragmatic, ‘trial and error’ and selective approaches to high-speed growth. In this latter view, the strong developmental states of Northeast Asia used their embedded autonomy viz the private sector to overcome market and coordination failures to usher in rapid growth and technological catch-up.

The ecological aspect of catholic moral theology should not evoke astonishment, as it is not a strange hybrid created by means of artificial manipulations aiming at bestowing authority of Christian tradition on ecology. Popes' statements concerning natural environment conservation seem to testify against such claims and only show the importance and need of implementing responsible and moderate using the Earth's resources into Christian awareness. Practical ethical problems in the ecological aspect I started to present from the natural law, which determines divine moral order in the world, also in the ecological dimension. Then I undertook the problem of an ecological conscience, which is a kind of a "watchman" of our morality, also as far as human actions in the natural environment are concerned, and it tries to protect the human being from committing an ecological sin, which is one of the forms of disobedience to God. These ecological aspects of moral theology will remain just hot air if we do not spread them by means of ecological education. It is also very important to shape proper and fixed attitudes towards other people and nature that can be described in terms of love, prudence, and moderation as aretology (field of science concerning virtues) teach us. At the end of this paragraph, I put Ecological Decalogue, whose rules Christians should obey in everyday life.

Enduring legacies of racial violence signal the need to reconcile with the past. This paper comparatively explores various speculative works that either reinforce a paradigm of White innocence that serves to deny such legacies or center critical dialogue between the past and present. It draws on a range of theoretical works, including Seshadri-Crooks’s (2000) Lacanian analysis of race, Taylor’s (2003) notion of the body as repertoire for embodied knowledge, Wright’s (2015) concept of Black epiphenomenal time, and Hartman’s (2008b) method of ‘critical fabulation.’ Through an analysis of the narrative tropes of caves and mirrors in the Star Wars Skywalker saga (1977–1983; 2015–2019), this paper firstly unpacks the bounded individualism that permits protagonists Luke and Rey Skywalker to refute their evil Sith lord ancestry and prevail as heroes. It then turns to the works Black Panther (2018) and Watchmen (2019) to comparatively examine Afrofuturist narrative strategies of collectivity, embodiment, and non-linear temporality that destabilize bounded notions of self and time to reckon with the complexities of the past. It concludes that speculative approaches to ancestral (dis)connections are indicative of epistemological frameworks that can either circumvent or forefront ongoing demands to grapple with the past.

Purpose After the “quantity era,” today higher education has entered into the “quality era” and as “the gate keepers of quality,” quality assurance agencies (QAAs) are playing more and more irreplaceable important roles and their social status are becoming more and more prominent. However, how to guarantee the quality of the QAAs? Who can review the QAAs? The purpose of this paper is based exploration of these questions. Design/methodology/approach Following the founding of the European Quality Assurance Register (EQAR) for Higher Education, the Asia Pacific Quality Register (APQR) became the second in the international quality assurance (QA) networks to implement QA register, in 2015 with initiative of Asia-Pacific Quality Network. Findings This paper first retrospects the history and process of APQR, and subsequently the implementation of APQR is described in detail from the two aspects of the criteria and the procedure, and at the end, the paper concludes with a summary of the three characteristics of this first formal implement of APQR: APQR is an international register open to all the QAAs; APQR emphasizes characteristics evaluation of diversity; and APQR highlights the combination of quantitative assessment and qualitative assessment. Originality/value Today on the international stage of QA, APQR has emerged as “the watchman of quality” in the Asia-Pacific region as counterpart of EQAR in Europe. How far away does such newly emerging form of guaranteeing the QAAs’ quality go forward, what is its future prospects and other concerning issues, are some of the question that need enthusiastic attention and contribution.

INTRODUCTION:Historically, many Health Technology Assessment (HTA) bodies were developed with a focus on addressing rapidly rising drug costs and the unique need to evaluate each drug as a de novo entity. The degree to which the unique needs for evaluating technologies vis a vis drugs are reflected in distinct HTA methods and activity is to date understudied.METHODS:We examined HTA's reviews of two technologies: WATCHMAN™, a device to reduce the risk of stroke in certain patients and Alair™, a procedure-based treatment for severe asthma. Both technologies have been extensively reviewed by HTA bodies and payers in many countries. These HTA reviews are compared to a convenience sample of these HTA's bodies reviews of drugs and qualitative differentiators between these two categories explored.RESULTS:The differences and similarities (for example, in rigor and necessity of evidence) between US Section 510(k) clearances, US premarket approval (PMA), and US new drug application (NDA) regulatory pathways have not been clearly understood by HTA or reflected in their methodologies employed. Additionally, emergent methodologies such as Bayesian statistical analyses may encounter challenges within technologies reviews. HTA bodies may not be cognizant of development timelines or the timelines of comparators. Finally, HTA bodies may overestimate device adoption rates.CONCLUSIONS:The differences in evidence requirements for regulatory approval between US 510(k), US PMA, and US NDA pathways have not been reflected in different methodological approaches within HTA bodies reviews. Opportunities and novel methods are needed for HTA bodies to derive imputed comparisons between technologies that may have inherently incongruent timelines. Finally, HTA bodies could benefit from methods to more accurately estimate projected adoption curves. Challenges exist using frameworks, paradigms, and methodologies initially established for, and commonly used for, pharmaceuticals on device evaluations; leaders of HTA methods can improve the situation by providing guidance and recommendations for more appropriate HTA methods to evaluate devices.

High blood pressure is one of the most important modifiable risk factors for CVS diseases. It is an extremely common finding in the community and the risk factor for MI, Stroke, end stage renal disease and peripheral vascular disease. To study the prevalence of Hypertension and its associated risk factors in the non-teaching staff of Khaja Bandanawaz Institute of Medical Sciences, Kalaburgi. A cross sectional study was conducted on the prevalence of hypertension among the non-teaching staff of Khaja Bandanawaz Institute of Medical Sciences, Kalaburgi, Karnataka from 26/07/2015 to 20/09/2015. Data was collected regarding their age, sex, smoking and alcohol consumption, smokeless tobacco usage, lifestyle, occupation, type of diet and family history. The age of the non-teaching staff was in the range of 25 to 60 years with 63% males and 37% females. Prevalence of Hypertension was 25%. A majority of 40% belonged to the age group of above 50 years. Maximum prevalence of Hypertension was found among the watchmen (50%). Hypertension was more prevalent among alcohol consumers (83%) followed by smokers (53%), smokeless tobacco users (49%), subjects living a sedentary lifestyle (41%) and study subjects who had a mixed die (27%). A statistically significant association was found between hypertension and smoking, alcohol consumption, life style and smokeless tobacco intake. The prevalence of Hypertension was 25% with many contributing factors. The results show the need for special programs for high risk groups.

In urban Africa today, like elsewhere, the purported survival strategies of individuals are determined constantly by severe material constraints. The poor and the new poor are overwhelmingly new city dwellers dependent on precarious, intermittent odd jobs (petits boulots; single women with small children; young school dropouts (déscolarisés, condemned to the expediencies of the streets, illicit actions and, in many cases, delinquency; unemployed graduates (diplomés-chômeurs), without opportunities for paid employment; as well as those designated successively in the vernacular as conjoncturés, déflatés and compressés (i.e. affected by wage reductions, permanent employees downgraded to temporary contracts or casual labour, and workers who have lost their jobs through massive redundancies). These individuals can meet only the most basic needs (eating, feeding their children, paying the rent). When survival becomes an issue, long-term strategies tend to be constrained by the need to fulfil the most basic needs and daily necessities. At any rate, pursuit of this objective does not involve selective mobilization of optimized means, when those who admittedly are looking out for themselves (se cherchent), rummage about (grouillent à droite [et] à gauche), pursue small jobs in unskilled manual labour or portering, or as night watchmen (racolage pour trouver des petits contrats de manoeuvrage, de manutention ou de veilleur de nuit), search constantly for opportunities to sell items that they bought for a little bit less, inland or across the border. They may also try to establish a business or small craft shop and, during the interim, get by with difficulty thanks to sporadic aid from relatives who are also unemployed.

Abstract Introduction The reduction in pharyngeal muscle tone in the upper airway is a pivotal factor in snoring and obstructive sleep apnoea (OSA).There is accumulative evidence that pharyngeal exercises can reduce snoring and OSA. We present a novel device SnooZeal® that uses daytime awake neuromuscular electrical stimulation (NEMS) as an application to induce toning of the tongue muscles. This study investigates objective changes in snoring and respiratory parameters with this device. Methods Prospective cohort study of 100 simple snorers was conducted. Objective snoring and respiratory parameters were recorded with 2 consecutive WatchPat sleep studies before and after treatment. SnooZeal® device was used for 20 minutes once a day for a 6 week period. Secondary outcome measures using visual analogue scale reporting of snoring by patient and Epworth Sleepiness Score (ESS) were recorded. Results Objective reduction of snoring was noted on the sleep studies in 95% with an average reduction of 48%. Subjectively, the visual analogue scale reported by partners similarly demonstrated reduction in 95% of the patients with an average reduction of 40%. Conclusion This prospective cohort study demonstrates a notable improvement in both objective and subjective parameters of snoring and respiratory indices. SnooZeal® offers a novel approach to reduce snoring by utilising intra-oral neuromuscular electrical stimulation. This could be a preferred option for patients as it alleviates the need of using an oral device during sleep. Support

Imagine, if you will, a ship at sea. At a distance, it could be Jason and the Argonauts, or the Flying Dutchman, or even Captain Ahab. By the cut of its jib as it looms out of the mist, however, it seems rather to be a sieve, such as that in which the Jumblies once put forth. On the poop, sextant in hand, his grizzled features set in Churchillian grimace but instantly recognizable by the ancient Connecticut watchcap which tops them, stands—no, not Walter Mitty—but Hexter the Navigator. As a veteran of many earlier voyages, real and imaginary, he has a longer memory than his shipmates. He thinks this is a Liberty Ship, and he is trying to chart the course laid out in the sailing instructions, originally constituted by a long line of sea-lawyers and perfected by Victorian hydrographers. Right forrard, another ancient mariner, of the kind the lower deck calls Three-badge Killick (a leading seaman of long service who has never made it to Petty Officer), swings the lead. He is Plumb. In the crow's nest, bo'suns Tawney and Hill stand watch with their mates Stone and Thompson. As boy seamen long ago, they, too, were brought up on the old sailing instructions; but having, before the present voyage, served in capital ships, they consider that they have progressed far beyond such common lore. So wise are they indeed that they are convinced that this, too, is a Capital Ship, which, as everybody knows, can only sail forwards, and can therefore have only one destination. In the rigging, the rest of the fo'csle hands, a rabble of cabin boys and greenhorns press-ganged in 1968, who have barely passed for able seaman and still need the old guard to show them the ropes, likewise scan the horizon for the inevitable landfall and keep a weather eye open for that ill-omened denizen of these waters, Namier's Albatross. The intrepid helmsman, however, just as young but experienced beyond his years, knows better. Apprenticed to a line of tars that stretches back to old admiral Clarendon, he has learnt his craft the hard way, at the rope's end, and he has very little use for the sailing instructions of Liberty Ships or the great circle routes programmed, rhumb line by reductionist rhumb line, into the automatic pilots of their capital counterparts. He is Revisionist, a most unteleologic Ulysses, content (the journey not Ithaca's the thing) to sail his narrative barque (Narrenschiff?) before the winds of change for ever. Only one thing jars this whimsical homeric simile. Proof though he is against Circe and her reifications, our Ulysses has still his achilles' heel. Perhaps because he has come up through the hawse-hole himself, he has occasional bouts of nautical nostalgie de la boue: like Bertram, the sociologist of the sea in “Dry Cargo,” the Navigator's hoary parable on Doing History (another time, another voyage), he itches to pull on a pair of footnotes, go below and sample the bilgewater which, this being after all a sieve, slops around the hold.

While every interpretation is culturally particular and context-specific, the critical assessment of the hermeneutical principles and social consequences of real examples from different cultures may facilitate fresh readings of the scripture with more creative imagination, theological integrity and ethical responsibility. This essay investigates three influential interpretations of Matthew’s Gospel by well-known Christian leaders in China: Hong Xiuquan, Wu Leichuan and Watchman Nee. Different theological orientations notwithstanding, they all highlight Jesus’ role as ‘saviour and teacher’ and favour the Sermon on the Mount. The strategies that they use to appropriate Matthew’s Gospel and to make Jesus relevant show what it takes to ensure a sound hermeneutical process. They also bring to the table of Matthean scholarship insight into the roles that Jesus plays in the Gospel narrative and in various socio-cultural settings. Finally, they provide interesting cases for a brief refl ection on cross-cultural readings and post-colonial criticism that have fascinated recent biblical scholars.

Introduction: Interventional therapies aiming at excluding the left atrial appendage (LAA) from systemic circulation have been established as a valid alternative to oral anticoagulation (OAC) in patients at high thromboembolic (TE) risk. However, their efficacy on stroke prophylaxis may be compromised owing to incomplete LAA closure. Additionally, the need for an alternative TE prevention may remain unmet in patients with contraindications to OAC whose appendage anatomy is unsuitable for some conventional devices commercially available. Hypothesis: We aimed at evaluating the feasibility of LAA closure with the novel Gore® Cardioform Septal Occluder (CSO) in patients with incomplete appendage ligation or anatomical features which do not meet the manufacturer’s requirements for Watchman deployment. Methods: Twenty-one consecutive patients (mean age: 72±6 years; 85.7% males; CHA 2 DS 2 -VASc: 4.5±1.4; HAS-BLED: 3.6±1.0) were included. Trans-esophageal echocardiography (TEE) was performed within 2 months to assess for residual LAA patency. Results: Fourteen patients had incomplete LAA closure following surgical (n=6) or Lariat ligation (n=8). In 7 patients with an appendage anatomy unsuitable for Watchman deployment, the mean maximal landing zone size and LAA depth were 14.4±1.3mm and 18.6±2.8mm. Successful CSO deployment was achieved in all patients. No peri-procedural complications were documented.Procedure and fluoroscopy times were 46±13min and 14±5min. Follow-up TEE after 58±9 days revealed complete LAA closure in all patients. Conclusions: Transcatheter LAA closure via a CSO device might be a valid alternative in patients with residual leaks following failed appendage ligation or whose LAA anatomy does not meet the minimal anatomical criteria to accommodate a Watchman device.

Background: Interventional therapies aiming at excluding the left atrial appendage (LAA) from systemic circulation have been established as a valid alternative to oral anticoagulation in patients at high thromboembolic risk. However, their efficacy on stroke prophylaxis may be compromised owing to incomplete LAA closure. Additionally, the need for an alternative thromboembolic prevention may remain unmet in patients with contraindications to oral anticoagulation whose appendage anatomy is unsuitable for some conventional devices commercially available. We aimed at evaluating the feasibility of LAA closure with the novel Gore Cardioform Septal Occluder in patients with incomplete appendage ligation or anatomic features which do not meet the manufacturer’s requirements for Watchman deployment. Methods: Twenty-one consecutive patients (mean age: 72±6 years; 85.7% males; CHA 2 DS 2 -VASc: 4.5±1.4; HAS-BLED: 3.6±1.0) were included. Transesophageal echocardiography was performed within 2 months to assess for residual LAA patency. Results: Fourteen patients had incomplete LAA closure following surgical (n=6) or Lariat ligation (n=8). In 7 patients with an appendage anatomy unsuitable for Watchman deployment, the mean maximal landing zone size and LAA depth were 14.4±1.3 and 18.6±2.8 mm. Successful Cardioform Septal Occluder deployment was achieved in all patients. No peri-procedural complications were documented. Procedure and fluoroscopy times were 46±13 and 14±5 minutes. Follow-up transesophageal echocardiography after 58±9 days revealed complete LAA closure in all patients. Conclusions: Transcatheter LAA closure via a Cardioform Septal Occluder device might be a valid alternative in patients with residual leaks following failed appendage ligation or whose LAA anatomy does not meet the minimal anatomic criteria to accommodate a Watchman device. Graphic Abstract: A graphic abstract is available for this article.

Abstract Rendu-Osler-Weber (ROW) syndrome or hereditary hemorrhagic telangiectasia is a rare autossomic dominant disease characterized by vascular dysplasia involving multiple systems and associated with an increased bleeding risk. The presence of atrial fibrillation in this population becomes a challenge, regarding the evaluation of bleeding and thrombotic risks and the best approach for the patient management. A 72 years-old female with ROW syndrome, atrial fibrillation and a CHA2DS2-VASc risk score of four, was admitted to our hospital for left atrial appendage (LAA) closure after a period of novel oral anticoagulation crowed with multiple haemorrhagic events and blood transfusions. After the implantation of a Watchman LAA number 33 closure device (Image 1A), and because of the concomitant diagnose of chronic pulmonary embolism, she was restarted on anticoagulation therapy in lower doses, with initial tolerance. For evaluation of LAA closure device during follow-up, after an unsuccessful attempt of transoesophageal echocardiography (TEE) because of severe epistaxis subsequent to oropharyngeal anaesthesia, the patient underwent a Cardiac Computed Tomography (CT) that showed a moderate peri-device leak (4.4x11mm, 0.73cm2) – (Image 1B). For better characterization, the patient underwent a new attempt of TEE with the support of an anaesthesiologist and the need of local vasoconstrictor agents and tranexamic acid for epistaxis and oropharyngeal bleeding control. TEE confirmed a moderate posterior device-leak (7.1mm) with absence of cavitary thrombus (Image 1C). After a year of anticoagulation with new significant bleeding events, TEE was repeated with the anaesthetic and pharmacologic preparation. This TEE showed a decrease in peri-device leak (<5mm wide – Image 1D), which was fundamental for supporting the multidisciplinary team decision of interruption of anticoagulation therapy. With this case we want to highlight the challenging decisions regarding patients with ROW syndrome and atrial fibrillation. Specifically, we must be alert about possible complications in trying to perform TEE in this population, once the frequent occurrence of telangiectasias in the oropharynges that may occur, as in this patient. Abstract P182 Figure. Image 1

Background: The impact of antithrombotic therapy on coagulation system activation after left atrial appendage closure (LAAC) remains unknown. This study sought to compare changes in coagulation markers associated with short-term oral anticoagulation (OAC) versus antiplatelet therapy (APT) following LAAC. Methods: Prospective study including 78 atrial fibrillation patients undergoing LAAC with the Watchman device. F1+2 (prothrombin fragment 1+2) and TAT (thrombin-antithrombin III) were assessed immediately before the procedure, and at 7, 30, and 180 days after LAAC. Results: Forty-eight patients were discharged on APT (dual: 31, single: 17) and 30 on OAC (direct anticoagulants: 26, vitamin K antagonists: 4), with no differences in baseline-procedural characteristics between groups except for higher spontaneous echocardiography contrast in the OAC group. OAC significantly reduced coagulation activation within 7 days post-LAAC compared with APT (23% [95% CI, 5%–41%] versus 82% [95% CI, 54%–111%] increase for F1+2, P =0.007; 52% [95% CI, 15%–89%] versus 183% [95% CI, 118%–248%] increase for TAT, P =0.048), with all patients in both groups progressively returning to baseline values at 30 and 180 days. Spontaneous echocardiography contrast pre-LAAC was associated with an enhanced activation of the coagulation system post-LAAC (144 [48–192] versus 52 [24–111] nmol/L, P =0.062 for F1+2; 299 [254–390] versus 78 [19–240] ng/mL, P =0.002 for TAT). Device-related thrombosis occurred in 5 patients (6.4%), and all of them were receiving APT at the time of transesophageal echocardiography (10.2% versus 0% if OAC at the time of transesophageal echocardiography, P =0.151). Patients with device thrombosis exhibited a greater coagulation activation 7 days post-LAAC ( P =0.038 and P =0.108 for F1+2 and TAT, respectively). Conclusions: OAC (versus APT) was associated with a significant attenuation of coagulation system activation post-LAAC. Spontaneous echocardiography contrast pre-LAAC associated with enhanced coagulation activation post-LAAC, which in turn increased the risk of device thrombosis. These results highlight the urgent need for randomized trials comparing OAC versus APT post-LAAC.

Abstract Introduction Transesophageal echocardiography (TEE) is essential in the guidance of left atrial appendage closure (LAAC). Current practice often requires general anesthetics (GA) to endure a standard size probe during LAAC procedures. Smaller probes for pediatric purposes have been developed and might be useful for the guidance of LAAC in adults, eliminating the need for general anesthetics (GA) and reducing procedure times. Methods In this prospective observational registry study patients were analyzed retrospectively to determine feasibility of pediatric TEE probes in adults for LAAC guidance. A standard set of LAA measurements, device compression and peri-device leakage was evaluated during procedure and by a second observer. Follow-up imaging, performed between 1–6 months after LAAC, was viewed by two independent reviewers for device positioning, peri-device leakage and thrombus formation. Results A total of 85 patients (56 male, mean age 72±7 years) were included. All patients underwent LAAC (76 Watchman, 9 Amplatzer Amulet), in 28 patients (33%) LAAC was combined with pulmonary vein isolation (PVI). The S8–3t micro-probe was used in 41 patients (48%) and the S7–3t mini-probe was used in 44 (52%). In 76 (38 mini-TEE, 38 micro-TEE) LAAC was successful, 7 of 9 failed procedures were due to unsuitable anatomy. Complete closure was achieved in 61/76 (80%, 29 mini-TEE, 32 micro-TEE), minimal residual flow was seen in 15/76 (20%, 8 mini-TEE, 7 micro-TEE). Device compression was comparable for mini- and micro-TEE and in accordance with recommendations. No GA was needed in 93% of the patients, none of these procedures were prematurely terminated because of discomfort. No serious probe related complications were seen. Follow-up imaging was performed 80±24 days after LAAC. Most patients (95%) underwent TOE with a standard probe for follow-up imaging, 5% of the patients underwent cardiac CT. Follow-up imaging showed similar proportions of patients with complete LAA closure (74%) or minimal residual flow (23%), while 2 patients had significant peri-device flow: 1 due to significant change in device position and 1 due to increase of peri-device leakage present during implant. In 1 patient device-related thrombus was seen and in 1 patient device embolization to the abdominal aorta occurred. Conclusions The use of pediatric probes in the guidance for LAAC in adults is a safe, effective, and attractive alternative avoiding the need for general anesthesia.

Abstract Purpose To ascertain the usefulness of a novel intraoral neuromuscular stimulation device in treating patients with primary snoring and mild obstructive sleep apnoea (OSA). This device uses daytime awake neuromuscular electrical stimulation (NMES) as an application to induce toning of the tongue muscles. Methods A prospective cohort study of 70 patients with sleep-disordered breathing was conducted. Objective snoring and respiratory parameters were recorded with 2 consecutive night WatchPat sleep studies before and after treatment. The device was used for 20 min once daily for a 6-week period. Secondary outcome measures using visual analogue scale reporting of snoring by patient and Epworth Sleepiness Score (ESS) were recorded. Quality of life parameters were also noted. Results Objective reduction of snoring was noted on the sleep studies in 95% of participants, with an average snoring time reduction of 48%. Subjectively, the visual analogue scale reported by partners’ similarly demonstrated reduction in 95% of the patients with an average reduction of 40%. In a subset of 38 patients with mild OSA, AHI reduced from 9.8 to 4.7/h (52% reduction), ODI 7.8 to 4.3/h (45% reduction), and ESS from 9.0 to 5.1. Adverse effects encountered were minimal. Conclusion This prospective cohort study demonstrates a notable improvement in both objective and subjective parameters of snoring and mild OSA in both simple snorers and patients with mild OSA. This device offers a safe and novel approach to reduce snoring and mild OSA by utilising intraoral neuromuscular electrical stimulation. This could be a preferred option for patients as it alleviates the need of using an oral device during sleep. Trial registration clinicaltrials.gov identifier NCT03829956

Abstract Background Left atrial appendage occlusion (LAAo) is an established therapy in patients with atrial fibrillation. However, criteria regarding optimal device position are not well defined making comparability of procedural results virtually impossible. We therefore sought to a) introduce a classification describing optimal vs. suboptimal device-position by assessing predefined parameters in transoesophageal echocardiography (TEE) and to b) analyze the impact of device-position on outcome in patients treated with different LAAo devices. Methods and results We retrospectively analyzed 120 patients who were treated by LAAo and had undergone follow-up TEEs after 3 or 6 months. Patients were at mean age: 76±8 years; female 40% and presented an increased CHADS-VASC- (4.6±1.4) and HAS-BLED-score (3.7±1). TEE-guidance was performed in all cases. In 62.5% (75/120) pacifier occluders (PO) (ACP/Amulet, Lambre, Ultraseal) were used, whereas 37.5% (45/120) were treated with non-pacifier occluders (NPO) (Watchman, Wavecrest, Occlutech). To assess device position, TEE images in a commissural view (60–90°) were analyzed and characterised by 1) implantation depth in the left atrial appendage, 2) peridevice flow (PF) and 3) the angle between occluder disc and pulmonal ridge (LUPV). For the purpose of this study, optimal device position was defined as a) ostial (LUPV length <10mm) or slightly subostial position (LUPV length ≤15mm, angle ≥100°) with b) the absence of major PF (>3mm). Overall, occluders were implanted at a depth of 12±7.8 mm with ostial positioning being achieved in 47.5% (57/120). Major PF was seen in 7.5% (9/120). NPOs were implanted deeper than POs (depth: 15.6±7.1 vs. 9.8±7.4 mm, p<0.01; ostial position: 31.1% vs. 57.3%, p<0.01) and were associated with a higher incidence of major PF (15.6% vs. 2.7%, p=0.01). Also, the depth/angle ratio was higher (i.e. “worse”) in NPOs (18.3±9 vs. 14.6±8, p<0.04). As a result, optimal device position was achieved in 48.3% (58/120) of all patients, with lower rates in NPOs than in POs (26.7% vs. 61.3%, p<0.01). Procedural aspects revealed slight differences in occluder size (optimal: 23.7±3.2 vs. suboptimal: 24.5±3.7 mm, p=0.3), need for repositioning (10.3% vs. 17.7%, p=0.25) and procedural duration (48±36 vs. 52±34 min, p=0.3). Of interest, device related thrombi (DRT) occurred less frequently in optimally implanted devices (3.4% vs. 12.9%, p=0.06). Hereby, implantation depth and depth/angle ratio were found to be predictors for DRT in ROC-analysis, respectively (AUC: 0.7, 95% Confidence interval [CI]: 0.56–0.84, p=0.05 and AUC: 0.72, 95% CI: 0.58–0.86, p=0.03). Optimal vs. suboptimal position Conclusion Echocardiographic classification of device-position is warranted to provide comparability and appears to be feasible. Based on the novel classification provided, optimal device-position is achieved in 50% and is found more often with the use of POs. DRT appeared to occur more often in suboptimal device-position.

“Man has, as it were, become a kind of prosthetic God. When he puts on all his auxiliary organs he is truly magnificent; but those organs have not grown on to him and they still give him much trouble at times” (Freud 37-39).Introduction and Background Self-tracking is not a new phenomenon. For centuries, people have used self-examination and monitoring as a means to attain knowledge and understanding about themselves. People would often record their daily activities (like food consumption, sleep and physical exercise) and write down accompanying thoughts and reflections. However, the advent of digital technology in the past decades has drastically changed the self-tracking sphere. In fact, the popularisation of self-tracking technology (STT) in mobile applications and wearable devices has allowed users to track daily activities on a closer and more accurate scale than previously affordable. Gary Wolf, the founder of a niche movement called the ‘Quantified Self’, suggested that “if you want to replace the vagaries of intuition with something more reliable, you first need to gather data. Once you know the facts, you can live by them” (Wolf). This reveals that STT has the capacity to guide users by virtue of the data collected and insights provided by the technology. Thus, instead of using intuition, which is potentially unreliable and subjective, data – finite and objective by nature – can be used to guide the process by providing definitive facts, figures and patterns. Arguably, this technologises users, allowing them to enhance their performance and capabilities by using STTs to regulate and monitor their behaviour. Hence, in this article, I position self-tracking technology (STT) as an interactive media technology, a tool for surveillance and regulation, and an “extension of man”. However, the use of and reliance on STT can compromise personal autonomy, and this journal article will investigate how users’ personal autonomy has been affected due to STT’s function as an extension of man, or a “prosthetic”. I use case study vignettes to investigate impacts on personal autonomy in three spheres: the workspace, relationships and the physical environment. Extending ManSTTs reconfigure our bodies in data form and implicate our personhood and autonomy. Human physicality has changed now that technology and data have become so integral to how we experience and view our bodies. STTs technologise human bodies, transforming them into data bodies, augmented and reliant on digital media. As Marshall McLuhan (63) put it: “In this electric age we see ourselves being translated more and more into the form of information, moving toward the technological extension of consciousness”. With the integration of STT into our daily lives, consumers increasingly rely on cues from their devices and applications to inform them about their bodies. This potentially affects the autonomy of an individual – since STT becomes an extension of the human body. In the 1960s, when the mass media was burgeoning, Marshal McLuhan proposed the idea that the media acted as an extension of man. STTs similarly act as an extension of users’ embodied capabilities and senses, since the data collected by these technologies is shared with users, allowing them to alter their bodies and minds, aiming to be as productive and effective as possible. In Understanding Media, McLuhan’s interpretation of electronic media was prescient. He anticipated the development of so-called “smart” devices, noting that, in the information age man “wears [his] brain outside [his] skull and [his] nerves outside [his] hide” (63). This is reflective of STT’s heavy reliance on sensor technology and smart technology. Simply examining how a Fitbit – a popular wearable self-tracking device – operates is illustrative. For instance, some Fitbits have an altimeter sensor that detects when the wearer is elevated, and hence counts floors. Fitbits also count steps using a three-axis accelerometer, which turns the wearer’s movements into data. Furthermore, Fitbit devices are capable of analysing and interpreting this acceleration data to provide insights about “frequency, duration, intensity, and patterns of movement to determine [users’] steps taken, distance travelled, calories burned, and sleep quality” (“Fitbit”). Fitbit relies on sensor technologies (“nerves”) to detect and interpret activities, and such insights are then transmitted to users’ smart devices (“brains”) for storage, to be analysed at a time of convenience. This modus operandi is not exclusive to Fitbit, and in fact, is the framework for many STTs. Hence, STTs have the potential to extend the natural capabilities of the human body to regulate behaviour.The WorkplaceThis notion of STT as a regulatory prosthetic is seen in its ability to enforce standardised norms on individuals by using surveillance as a disciplinary measure. STTs can enforce norms on users by transforming the workplace into a panopticon, which is an institutional structure that allows a watchman to observe individuals without them knowing whether they are being watched or not. STTs are used to gather data about performance and behaviour, and users are monitored constantly. As a result, they adjust their behaviouraccordingly. US retail titan Amazon has repeatedly raised concerns over the past years because of its use of wearables to survey workers during shifts. Adam Littler, an Amazon employee, came forward in 2013 accusing his employers of forcing him to walk 11 miles during a single work shift. His distance travelled was measured and tracked using a pedometer, while a handheld scanner guided him around the warehouse and notified him if he was meeting his targets (Aspinall). Amazon also recently designed and patented a wristband that is capable of tracking wearers’ (employees’) movements, including hand placement (Kelly). The reliance on such tracking technology to guide actions and supplement users with information to increase productivity reveals how STT can serve as a prosthetic that is used to enhance man’s abilities and performance However, the flipside of such enhancement is exploitation – employers augment users with technology and force them to adhere to standards of performance that are difficult to achieve. For instance, documents have recently surfaced that suggest Amazon terminates employees based on productivity statistics. It was reported that around 300 full-time employees were fired for “failing to meet productivity quotas”. According to the documents, “Amazon’s system tracks the rates of each individual associate’s productivity and automatically generates any warnings or terminations regarding quality or productivity without input from supervisors” (Lecher). This is reflective of how actors that are in power, like employers, can impose self-tracking practises onto employees that compromise their personal autonomy. Foucault finds that the panopticon’s utility and potency as a discipline mechanism lies in its efficiency as enforcers do not have to constantly survey people to ensure they conform. Thus, it manoeuvres existing power structures to achieve a particular goal – for instance, higher productivity or economic growth. Foucault also notes: The discipline of the workshop, while remaining a way of enforcing respect for the regulations and authorities, of preventing thefts and losses, tends to increase aptitudes, speeds, output and therefore profits; it still exerts a moral influence over behaviour, but more and more it treats actions in terms of their results, introduces bodies into a machinery, forces into an economy. (210) STTs in the workspace (or workshop) can act as prostheses, allowing employers to enhance their employee’s capabilities. Such technology creates an environment in which workers feel pressured to perform in adherence to certain set standards. Thus, employees are disciplined by STTs, and by the surveillance of their employers that follows. Arguably, such surveillance is detrimental to personal autonomy, as the surveyed feel that they have to behave in compliance to standards enforced by those in power (ie. their employers). Physical Environment With the aim of productivity and efficiency in mind, users grow dependant on devices to augment their realities with helpful technology. As mentioned earlier, McLuhan (90) ideates that “technologies are extensions of our physical and nervous systems to increase power and speed” is particularly significant. The iPhone is an example that illustrates this point very clearly as they are inbuilt with complex technology that includes a variety of sensors. The iPhone 7, for example, has a range of sensors including an accelerometer, a gyroscope, a magnetometer, a GPS, a barometer, and an ambient light sensor (Nield). These gather information about users’ surroundings and feed it back to them, and they are then able to make informed decisions. Hence, if a user wants to travel to a certain place, the phone has the ability to point out the quickest route possible, or which route to take if they would like to stop by a certain location along the way. This cultivates a reliance on navigational technologies that use automated self-tracking to direct users’ daily lives, functioning as an extension and enhancement of their geographical memory and sense of direction. However, using these technologies may in fact be dulling our body’s abilities. For instance, anthropologist Tim Ingold posits that relying on navigation technology has reduced humans’ inborn wayfaring capabilities (Ingold). These satellite navigation technologies are one of the most popular ways in which people track their movements and move through space; for instance, a whole market of rideshare applications like Uber and OlaCabs rely on this technology. Using this technology has allowed people to navigate and travel with ease. However, this can be seen to lead to a lack of “spatial awareness and cartographic literacy”. Essentially, traditional maps skills are viewed as redundant and it can encourage an over-reliance on technology (Speake and Axon). According to McKinlay navigation is a “use-it-or-lose-it skill” and “automatic wayfinding” was reducing natural navigation abilities. A UCL neuroscience study found that licensed London taxi drivers have a larger than average hippocampus in their brains, as they are capable of storing a mental map of the city in their minds, by learning street layouts and locations of places of interest. The hippocampus is the part of the brain that is linked to spatial memory and navigation skills (Maguire, Woollett and Spiers 1093). Dr Eleanor Maguire, the neuroscientist who led the study, noted that if the taxi drivers started “using GPS, that knowledge base will be less and possibly affect the brain changes we are seeing” (Dobson). In turn, an increasing reliance on GPS and navigation technologies in self-tracking devices may result in a diminishing hippocampus, according to neuroscientist Veronique Bohbot of McGill University. The atrophy of the hippocampus has also been linked to the risk of dementia (Weeks), which reveals how the technologies that augment space may atrophy the “natural abilities” (McKinlay) and thus, the autonomy of users. RelationshipsAs with areas like the workspace and spatial environments, sociality and intimacy are increasingly being mediated by technology – the digital capabilities of new media have expanded users’ options and provided a variety of technological tools that allow us to streamline and reflect on social interactions and behaviour, serving as a social prosthetic. This is especially significant in the sphere of self-tracking. However, relying on STT to gain insight into sociality may alter the ways in which we think of intimacy and communication, and may also have an impact on users’ independence and trust. Hasinoff (497-98) notes that using tracking technologies within families and intimate relationships can have potentially harmful effects, such as a loss of trust. In particular, children who are pushed into self-tracking by their families may suffer from a loss of independence as well as an inability to perceive and react to risk. In such a situation, STT serves as a prosthetic that aims to ensure safety, however, surveillance through STTs enforces power disparities and simultaneously creates a dependency between the watched and watchers, and this would affect users’ personal autonomy as they are viewed under a panoptic lens. In fact, Hasinoff finds that “[family tracking and monitoring apps] exaggerate risks, offer illusory promises of safety, and normalize surveillance and excessive control in familial relationships”. I argue that this is the consequence of pushed self-tracking in the sphere of sociality and intimacy. Users may feel pressure from their families or partners to participate in self-tracking and allow their data to be accessed by them. However, the process of participating in such a mediated and monitored relationship could create “asymmetrical relations of visibility” (Trottier 320), as this sharing of information may not always be two sided. For instance, on the app Life360, parents can enforce that their children share their locations at all times, while they are able to conceal their own locations. This intensifies the watcher’s control and diminishes the watched’s privacy and autonomy. Quite ironically, Life360’s tagline is “feel free, together”. As an app geared at family safety, Life360 assumes that the family is a safe space – however, families too may pose a significant risk to vulnerable users’ (such as young children and women) autonomy and privacy. User complaints about inaccurate location information reveal “controlling, asymmetrical, and potentially abusive uses of the app” that can aggravate dysfunctional power dynamics in intimate and familial relationships. For instance, jealous partners or overprotective parents could grow increasingly suspicious or even aggressive (Hasinoff 504). Critical users who reviewed the app claimed that the app “ruined [their] social life” and enabled their “family to stalk [them] 24/7”. In another case, a user claimed the app was “toxic”, noting it would “destroy their [children’s] trust” (App Store; Life360). While the app asserts that each user does have control over the extent of location sharing, they may feel the need to remain visible because of familial pressure and expectations, since their family relies visibility on the app as an indicator of safety. This too, is problematic – self-tracking one’s locations provides just that – a geolocation pin, which is not a clear measure or indicator of the well-being or safety of the user. Simpson argues that constructing location information as safety information is not reliable because it could “promote a false sense of security based on the sense that if you know where your child is then that means they are safe” (277). Additionally, this also sets an imperative that users need to be monitored or monitor themselves at all times to ensure safety, and such a use of surveillance technology could result in users being hyperalert and anxious (Hasinoff 497). Extending man’s awareness to this degree and engaging in such surveillance may create a false sense of security and dependency, that ultimately puts everyone’s autonomy at risk.ConclusionSTT performs as an informational prosthetic for man. We conventionally tend to think of prostheses as extensions of our physical and sensory abilities, used to enhance or replace missing functions. In the case of STT, they have inbuilt decision-making and guidance capabilities, enhancing humans’ ability to process and understand information. This is a new type of digital prosthetic that has not existed before. It thus seems that the new generation of prostheses are no longer just physical and material – they operate as intellectual and cognitive extensions of our bodies. However, when users’ decision-making processes are increasingly displaced by informational prostheses, it is important to determine the extent to which they are impairing our organic capacity for orienting, sense-making and intimacy. ReferencesApp Store. Mobile app. Apple Inc. 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IntroductionAccounts of criminals, their victims, and their pursuers have become entrenched within the sphere of popular culture; most obviously in the genres of true crime and crime fiction. The centrality of the pursuer in the form of the detective, within these stories, dates back to the nineteenth century. This, often highly-stylised and regularly humanised protagonist, is now a firm feature of both factual and fictional accounts of crime narratives that, today, regularly focus on the energies of the detective in solving a variety of cases. So familiar is the figure of the detective, it seems that these men and women—amateurs and professionals—have always had an important role to play in the pursuit and punishment of the wrongdoer. Yet, the first detectives were forced to overcome significant resistance from a suspicious public. Some early efforts to reimagine punishment and to laud the detective include articles written by Charles Dickens; pieces on public hangings and policing that reflect the great Victorian novelist’s commitment to shed light on, through written commentaries, a range of important social issues. This article explores some of Dickens’s lesser-known pieces, that—appearing in daily newspapers and in one of his own publications Household Words—helped to change some common perceptions of punishment and policing. Image 1: Harper's Magazine 7 December 1867 (Charles Dickens Reading, by Charles A. Barry). Image credit: United States Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division. A Reliance on the Scaffold: Early Law Enforcement in EnglandCrime control in 1720s England was dependent upon an inconsistent, and by extension ineffective, network of constables and night watchmen. It would be almost another three decades before Henry Fielding established the Bow Street Foot Patrol, or Bow Street Runners, in 1749, “six men in blue coats, patrolling the area within six miles of Charing Cross” (Worsley 35). A large-scale, formalised police force was attempted by Pitt the Younger in 1785 with his “Bill for the Further prevention of Crime and for the more Speedy Detection and Punishment of Offenders against the Peace” (Lyman 144). The proposed legislation was withdrawn due to fierce opposition that was underpinned by fears, held by officials, of a divestment of power to a new body of law enforcers (Lyman 144).The type of force offered in 1785 would not be realised until the next century, when the work of Robert Peel saw the passing of the Metropolitan Police Act 1829. The Police Act, which “constituted a revolution in traditional methods of law enforcement” (Lyman 141), was focused on the prevention of crime, “to reassure the lawful and discourage the wrongdoer” (Hitchens 51). Until these changes were implemented violent punishment, through the Waltham Black Act 1723, remained firmly in place (Cruickshanks and Erskine-Hill 359) as part of the state’s arsenal against crime (Pepper 473).The Black Act, legislation often referred to as the ‘Bloody Code’ as it took the number of capital felonies to over 350 (Pepper 473), served in lieu of consistency and cooperation, across the country, in relation to the safekeeping of the citizenry. This situation inevitably led to anxieties about crime and crime control. In 1797 Patrick Colquhoun, a magistrate, published A Treatise on the Police of the Metropolis in which he estimated that, out of a city population of just under 1 million, 115,000 men and women supported themselves “in and near the Metropolis by pursuits either criminal-illegal-or immoral” (Lyman 144). Andrew Pepper highlights tensions between “crime, governance and economics” as well as “rampant petty criminality [… and] widespread political corruption” (474). He also notes a range of critical responses to crime and how, “a particular kind of writing about crime in the 1720s demonstrated, perhaps for the first time, an awareness of, or self-consciousness about, this tension between competing visions of the state and state power” (Pepper 474), a tension that remains visible today in modern works of true crime and crime fiction. In Dickens’s day, crime and its consequences were serious legal, moral, and social issues (as, indeed, they are today). An increase in the crime rate, an aggressive state, the lack of formal policing, the growth of the printing industry, and writers offering diverse opinions—from the sympathetic to the retributive—on crime changed crime writing. The public wanted to know about the criminal who had disturbed society and wanted to engage with opinions on how the criminal should be stopped and punished. The public also wanted to be updated on changes to the judicial system such as the passing of the Judgement of Death Act 1823 which drastically reduced the number of capital crimes (Worsley 122) and how the Gaols Act, also of 1823, “moved tentatively towards national prison reform” (Gattrell 579). Crimes continued to be committed and alongside the wrongdoers were readers that wanted to be diverted from everyday events by, but also had a genuine need to be informed about, crime. A demand for true crime tales demonstrating a broader social need for crimes, even the most minor infractions, to be publicly punished: first on the scaffold and then in print. Some cases were presented as sensationalised true crime tales; others would be fictionalised in short stories and novels. Standing Witness: Dickens at the ScaffoldIt is interesting to note that Dickens witnessed at least four executions in his lifetime (Simpson 126). The first was the hanging of a counterfeiter, more specifically a coiner, which in the 1800s was still a form of high treason. The last person executed for coining in England was in early 1829; as Dickens arrived in London at the end of 1822, aged just 10-years-old (Simpson 126-27) he would have been a boy when he joined the crowds around the scaffold. Many journalists and writers who have documented executions have been “criticised for using this spectacle as a source for generating sensational copy” (Simpson 127). Dickens also wrote about public hangings. His most significant commentaries on the issue being two sets of letters: one set published in The Daily News (1846) and a second set published in The Times (1849) (Brandwood 3). Yet, he was immune from the criticism directed at so many other writers, in large part, due to his reputation as a liberal, “social reformer moved by compassion, but also by an antipathy toward waste, bureaucratic incompetence, and above all toward exploitation and injustice” (Simpson 127). As Anthony Simpson points out, Dickens did not sympathise with the condemned: “He wrote as a realist and not a moralist and his lack of sympathy for the criminal was clear, explicit and stated often” (128). Simpson also notes that Dickens’s letters on execution written in 1846 were “strongly supportive of total abolition” while later letters, written in 1849, presented arguments against public executions rather than the practice of execution. In 1859 Dickens argued against pardoning a poisoner. While in 1864 he supported the execution of the railway carriage murderer Franz Müller, explaining he would be glad to abolish both public executions and capital punishment, “if I knew what to do with the Savages of civilisation. As I do not, I would rid Society of them, when they shed blood, in a very solemn manner” (in Simpson 138-39) that is, executions should proceed but should take place in private.Importantly, Dickens was consistently concerned about society’s fascination with the scaffold. In his second letter to The Daily News, Dickens asks: round what other punishment does the like interest gather? We read of the trials of persons who have rendered themselves liable to transportation for life, and we read of their sentences, and, in some few notorious instances, of their departure from this country, and arrival beyond the sea; but they are never followed into their cells, and tracked from day to day, and night to night; they are never reproduced in their false letters, flippant conversations, theological disquisitions with visitors, lay and clerical […]. They are tried, found guilty, punished; and there an end. (“To the Editors of The Daily News” 6)In this passage, Dickens describes an overt curiosity with those criminals destined for the most awful of punishments. A curiosity that was put on vile display when a mob gathered on the concourse to watch a hanging; a sight which Dickens readily admitted “made [his] blood run cold” (“Letter to the Editor” 4).Dickens’s novels are grand stories, many of which feature criminals and criminal sub-plots. There are, for example, numerous criminals, including the infamous Fagin in Oliver Twist; or, The Parish Boy’s Progress (1838); several rioters are condemned to hang in Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of Eighty (1841); there is murder in The Life and Adventures of Martin Chuzzlewit (1844); and murder, too, in Bleak House (1853). Yet, Dickens never wavered in his revulsion for the public display of the execution as revealed in his “refusal to portray the scene at the scaffold [which] was principled and heartfelt. He came, reluctantly to support capital punishment, but he would never use its application for dramatic effect” (Simpson 141).The Police Detective: A Public Relations ExerciseBy the mid-1700s the crime story was one of “sin to crime and then the gallows” (Rawlings online): “Crimes of every defcription (sic) have their origin in the vicious and immoral habits of the people” (Colquhoun 32). As Philip Rawlings notes, “once sin had been embarked upon, capture and punishment followed” (online). The origins of this can be found in the formula relied upon by Samuel Smith in the seventeenth century. Smith was the Ordinary of Newgate, or prison chaplain (1676–1698), who published Accounts of criminals and their gruesome ends. The outputs swelled the ranks of the already burgeoning market of broadsides, handbills and pamphlets. Accounts included: 1) the sermon delivered as the prisoner awaited execution; 2) a brief overview of the crimes for which the prisoner was being punished; and 3) a reporting of the events that surrounded the execution (Gladfelder 52–53), including the prisoner’s behaviour upon the scaffold and any last words spoken. For modern readers, the detective and the investigation is conspicuously absent. These popular Accounts (1676–1772)—over 400 editions offering over 2,500 criminal biographies—were only a few pence a copy. With print runs in the thousands, the Ordinary earnt up to £200 per year for his efforts (Emsley, Hitchcock, and Shoemaker online). For:penitence and profit made comfortable bedfellows, ensuring true crime writing became a firm feature of the business of publishing. That victims and villains suffered was regrettable but no horror was so terrible anyone forgot there was money to be made. (Franks, “Stealing Stories” 7)As the changes brought about by the Industrial Revolution were having their full impact, many were looking for answers, and certainty, in a period of radical social transformation. Sin as a central motif in crime stories was insufficient: the detective was becoming essential (Franks, “True Crime” 239). “In the nineteenth century, the role of the newly-fashioned detective as an agent of consolation or security is both commercially and ideologically central to the subsequent project of popular crime writing” (Bell 8). This was supported by an “increasing professionalism and proficiency of policemen, detectives, and prosecutors, new understandings about psychology, and advances in forensic science and detection techniques” (Murley 10). Elements now included in most crime narratives. Dickens insisted that the detective was a crucial component of the justice system—a figure to be celebrated, one to take centre stage in the crime story—reflecting his staunch support “of the London Metropolitan Police” (Simpson 140). Indeed, while Dickens is known principally for exposing wretched poverty, he was also interested in a range of legal issues as can be evinced from his writings for Household Words. Image 2: Household Words 27 July 1850 (Front Page). Image credit: Dickens Journals Online. W.H. Wills argued for the acceptance of the superiority of the detective when, in 1850, he outlined the “difference between a regular and a detective policeman” (368). The detective must, he wrote: “counteract every sort of rascal whose only means of existence it avowed rascality, but to clear up mysteries, the investigation of which demands the utmost delicacy and tact” (368). The detective is also extraordinarily efficient; cases are solved quickly, in one example a matter is settled in just “ten minutes” (369).Dickens’s pro-police pieces, included a blatantly promotional, two-part work “A Detective Police Party” (1850). The narrative begins with open criticism of the Bow Street Runners contrasting these “men of very indifferent character” to the Detective Force which is “so well chosen and trained, proceeds so systematically and quietly, does its business in such a workman-like manner, and is always so calmly and steadily engaged in the service of the public” (“Police Party, Part I” 409). The “party” is just that: a gathering of detectives and editorial staff. Men in a “magnificent chamber”, seated at “a round table […] with some glasses and cigars arranged upon it; and the editorial sofa elegantly hemmed in between that stately piece of furniture and the wall” (“Police Party, Part I” 409). Two inspectors and five sergeants are present. Each man prepared to share some of their experiences in the service of Londoners:they are, [Dickens tells us] one and all, respectable-looking men; of perfectly good deportment and unusual intelligence; with nothing lounging or slinking in their manners; with an air of keen observation, and quick perception when addressed; and generally presenting in their faces, traces more or less marked of habitually leading lives of strong mental excitement. (“Police Party, Part I” 410) Dickens goes to great lengths to reinforce the superiority of the police detective. These men, “in a glance, immediately takes an inventory of the furniture and an accurate sketch of the editorial presence” and speak “very concisely, and in well-chosen language” and who present as an “amicable brotherhood” (“Police Party, Part I” 410). They are also adaptable and constantly working to refine their craft, through apeculiar ability, always sharpening and being improved by practice, and always adapting itself to every variety of circumstances, and opposing itself to every new device that perverted ingenuity can invent, for which this important social branch of the public service is remarkable! (“Police Party, Part II” 459)These detectives are also, in some ways, familiar. Dickens’s offerings include: a “shrewd, hard-headed Scotchman – in appearance not at all unlike a very acute, thoroughly-trained schoolmaster”; a man “with a ruddy face and a high sun-burnt forehead, [who] has the air of one who has been a Sergeant in the army” (“Police Party, Part I” 409-10); and another man who slips easily into the role of the “greasy, sleepy, shy, good-natured, chuckle-headed, un-suspicious, and confiding young butcher” (“Police Party, Part II” 457). These descriptions are more than just attempts to flesh out a story; words on a page reminding us that the author is not just another journalist but one of the great voices of the Victorian era. These profiles are, it is argued here, a deliberate strategy to reassure readers.In summary, police detectives are only to be feared by those residing on the wrong side of the law. For those without criminal intent; detectives are, in some ways, like us. They are people we already know and trust. The stern but well-meaning, intelligent school teacher; the brave and loyal soldier defending the Empire; and the local merchant, a person we see every day. Dickens provides, too, concrete examples for how everyone can contribute to a safer society by assisting these detectives. This, is perfect public relations. Thus, almost singlehandedly, he builds a professional profile for a new type of police officer. The problem (crime) and its solution (the detective) neatly packaged, with step-by-step instructions for citizens to openly support this new-style of constabulary and so achieve a better, less crime-ridden community. This is a theme pursued in “Three Detective Anecdotes” (1850) where Dickens continued to successfully merge “solid lower-middle-class respectability with an intimate knowledge of the criminal world” (Priestman 177); so, proffering the ideal police detective. A threat to the criminal but not to the hard-working and honest men, women, and children of the city.The Detective: As Fact and as FictionThese writings are also a precursor to one of the greatest fictional detectives of the English-speaking world. Dickens observes that, for these new-style police detectives: “Nothing is so common or deceptive as such appearances at first” (“Police Party, Part I” 410). In 1891, Arthur Conan Doyle would write that: “There is nothing so deceptive as an obvious fact” (78). Dickens had prepared readers for the consulting detective Sherlock Holmes: who was smarter, more observant and who had more determination to take on criminals than the average person. The readers of Dickens were, in many respects, positioned as prototypes of Dr John Watson: a hardworking, loyal Englishman. Smart. But not as smart as those who would seek to do harm. Watson needed Holmes to make the world a better place; the subscriber to Household Words needed the police detective.Another article, “On Duty with Inspector Field” (1851), profiled the “well-known hand” responsible for bringing numerous offenders to justice and sending them, “inexorably, to New South Wales” (Dickens 266). Critically this true crime narrative would be converted into a crime fiction story as Inspector Field is transformed (it is widely believed) into the imagined Inspector Bucket. The 1860s have been identified as “a period of awakening for the detective novel” (Ashley x), a predictor of which is the significant sub-plot of murder in Dickens’s Bleak House. In this novel, a murder is committed with the case taken on, and competently solved by, Bucket who is a man of “skill and integrity” a man presented as an “ideal servant” though one working for a “flawed legal system” (Walton 458). Mr Snagsby, of Bleak House, observes Bucket as a man whoseems in some indefinable manner to lurk and lounge; also, that whenever he is going to turn to the right or left, he pretends to have a fixed purpose in his mind of going straight ahead, and wheels off, sharply at the very last moment [… He] notices things in general, with a face as unchanging as the great mourning ring on his little finger, or the brooch, composed of not much diamond and a good deal of setting, which he wears in his shirt. (278) This passage, it is argued here, places Bucket alongside the men at the detective police party in Household Words. He is simultaneously superhuman in mind and manner, though rather ordinary in dress. Like the real-life detectives of Dickens’s articles; he is a man committed to keeping the city safe while posing no threat to law-abiding citizens. ConclusionThis article has explored, briefly, the contributions of the highly-regarded Victorian author, Charles Dickens, to factual and fictional crime writing. The story of Dickens as a social commentator is one that is familiar to many; what is less well-known is the connection of Dickens to important conversations around capital punishment and the rise of the detective in crime-focused narratives; particularly how he assisted in building the professional profile of the police detective. In this way, through fact and fiction, Dickens performed great (if under-acknowledged) public services around punishment and law enforcement: he contributed to debates on the death penalty and he helped to build trust in the radical social project that established modern-day policing.AcknowledgementsThe author offers her sincere thanks to the New South Wales Dickens Society, Simon Dwyer, and Peter Kirkpatrick. The author is also grateful to the reviewers of this article for their thoughtful comments and valuable suggestions. ReferencesAshley, Mike. “Introduction: Seeking the Evidence.” The Notting Hill Mystery. Author. Charles Warren Adams. London: The British Library, 2012. xxi-iv. Bell, Ian A. “Eighteenth-Century Crime Writing.” The Cambridge Companion to Crime Fiction. Ed. Martin Priestman. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2003/2006. 7-17.Brandwood, Katherine. “The Dark and Dreadful Interest”: Charles Dickens, Public Death and the Amusements of the People. MA Thesis. Washington, DC: Georgetown University, 2013. 19 Feb. 2017 <https://repository.library.georgetown.edu/bitstream/handle/10822/558266/Brandwood_georgetown_0076M_12287.pdf;sequence=1>.Collins, Philip. Dickens and Crime. London: Macmillan & Co, 1964.Cruickshanks, Eveline, and Howard Erskine-Hill. “The Waltham Black Act and Jacobitism.” Journal of British Studies 24.3 (1985): 358-65.Dickens, Charles. Oliver Twist; or, The Parish Boy’s Progress. London: Richard Bentley,1838.———. Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of Eighty. London: Chapman & Hall, 1841. ———. The Life and Adventures of Martin Chuzzlewit. London: Chapman & Hall, 1844.———. “To the Editors of The Daily News.” The Daily News 28 Feb. 1846: 6. (Reprinted in Antony E. Simpson. Witnesses to the Scaffold. Lambertville: True Bill P, 2008. 141–149.)———. “Letter to the Editor.” The Times 14 Nov. 1849: 4. (Reprinted in Antony E. Simpson. Witnesses to the Scaffold. Lambertville: True Bill P, 2008. 149-51.)———. “A Detective Police Party, Part I.” Household Words 1.18 (1850): 409-14.———. “A Detective Police Party, Part II.” Household Words 1.20 (1850): 457-60.———. “Three Detective Anecdotes.” Household Words 1.25 (1850): 577-80.———. “On Duty with Inspector Field.” Household Words 3.64 (1851): 265-70.———. Bleak House. London: Bradbury and Evans, 1853/n.d.Doyle, Arthur Conan. “The Boscombe Valley Mystery.” The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. London: Penguin, 1892/1981. 74–99.Emsley, Clive, Tim Hitchcock, and Robert Shoemaker. “The Proceedings: Ordinary of Newgate’s Accounts.” Old Bailey Proceedings Online, n.d. 4 Feb. 2017 <https://www.oldbaileyonline.org/static/Ordinarys-accounts.jsp>. Franks, Rachel. “True Crime: The Regular Reinvention of a Genre.” Journal of Asia-Pacific Pop Culture 1.2 (2016): 239-54. ———. “Stealing Stories: Punishment, Profit and the Ordinary of Newgate.” Refereed Proceedings of the 21st Conference of the Australasian Association of Writing Programs: Authorised Theft. Eds. Niloofar Fanaiyan, Rachel Franks, and Jessica Seymour. 2016. 1-11. 20 Mar. 2017 <http://www.aawp.org.au/publications/the-authorised-theft-papers/>.Gatrell, V.A.C. The Hanging Tree: Execution and the English People, 1770-1868. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1996.Gladfelder, Hal. Criminality and Narrative in Eighteenth-Century England. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins UP, 2001.Hitchens, Peter. A Brief History of Crime: The Decline of Order, Justice and Liberty in England. London: Atlantic Books, 2003.Lyman, J.L. “The Metropolitan Police Act of 1829.” Journal of Criminal Law, Criminology and Police Science 55.1 (1964): 141-54.Murley, Jean. The Rise of True Crime: 20th Century Murder and American Popular Culture. Westport: Praeger, 2008.Pepper, Andrew. “Early Crime Writing and the State: Jonathan Wilde, Daniel Defoe and Bernard Mandeville in 1720s London.” Textual Practice 25.3 (2011): 473-91. Priestman, Martin. “Post-War British Crime Fiction.” The Cambridge Companion to Crime Fiction. Ed. Martin Priestman. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2003. 173-89.Rawlings, Philip. “True Crime.” The British Criminology Conferences: Selected Proceedings, Volume 1: Emerging Themes in Criminology. Eds. Jon Vagg and Tim Newburn. London: British Society of Criminology (1998). 4 Feb. 2017 <http://www.britsoccrim.org/volume1/010.pdf>.Simpson, Antony E. Witnesses to the Scaffold: English Literary Figures as Observers of Public Executions. Lambertville: True Bill P, 2008.Walton, James. “Conrad, Dickens, and the Detective Novel.” Nineteenth-Century Fiction 23.4 (1969): 446-62.Wills, William Henry. “The Modern Science of Thief-Taking.” Household Words 1.16 (1850): 368-72.Worsley, Lucy. A Very British Murder: The Curious Story of How Crime Was Turned into Art. London: BBC Books, 2013/2014.

IntroductionAccording to Friedrich Nietzsche, the death of Man follows the death of God. Man as a concept must be overcome. Yet Nietzsche extends humanism’s jargon of creativity that privileges Man over animal. To truly overcome the notion of Man, one must undercome Man, in other words go below Man. Once undercome, creativity devolves into a type of building and unbuilding, affording art the ability to conceive of the subject emptied of divine creation. This article will examine how Man is unbuilt in three works by three different artists: Francis Bacon’s “Study of a Baboon” (1953), Jan Švankmajer’s Darkness, Light, Darkness (1989), and Patricia Piccinini’s “The Young Family” (2002). All three artists evoke the animalistic in their depiction of what could be called the sub-subject, a diminished agent. Unbuilding the subject becomes the basis for building the sub-subject in these depictions of the human remainder. Man, from this vantage, will be examined as a cultural construct. Man largely means human, yet the Renaissance concept favoured a certain type of powerful male. Instead of rescuing Man, Bacon, Švankmajer and Piccinini, present the remnants of the human amidst the animal rather than the human subject detached from the animal. Such works challenge humanism, expressed in Giorgio Vasari’s analysis of art and creativity as indicative of Man’s closeness to the divine, which in a strange way, is extended in Nietzsche’s writings. These artists dismantle and build a subhuman form of subjectivity and thereby provide a challenge to traditional conceptions of creativity that historically favour Man as the creator beneath only God Himself. In the course of this article, I explore the violence of Bacon’s painted devolution, the deflationary animation of Švankmajer and Piccinini’s subhuman tenderness. I do not argue that we must abandon humanism altogether as there are a multiplicity of humanisms, or attempt to invalidate all the various posthumanisms, transhumanisms and antihumanisms. Rather, I attempt to show that Nietzsche’s posthumanism is a suprahumanism and that one possible way to frame the death of Man is through undercoming Man. Art, held in high esteem by Renaissance humanism, becomes a vehicle to imagine and engage with subhuman subjectivity.What Is Humanism? Humanism has numerous connotations from designating atheism to celebrating culture to privileging humans above other animals. The type of humanism I am interested in is not secular humanism, but rather humanism that celebrates and conceptualises Man’s place in the universe and does so through accentuating his (and I mean his given humanism’s often sexist, masculinist history) creativity and intellectual power. This celebration of creativity depends in part on a type of religious view, where Man is at the centre of God’s design. Such a view holds that Man’s power to shape nature’s materials resembles God. This type of humanism remains today but usually in a more humbled form, enfeebled by the scientific realisations that characterised the Enlightenment, namely the realisation that Man was not the centre of God’s universe. The Enlightenment is sometimes characterised as the birth of modern humanism, where the human subject undergoes estrangement from his surroundings through the conceptualisation of the subject–object division, and gains control over nature. A common narrative is that the subject’s autonomy and power came to extend to art itself, which in turn, became valued as possessing its own aesthetic legitimacy and yet also becoming an alienated commodity. Yet Cary Wolfe, in What Is Posthumanism?, echoes Michel Foucault’s claim that the Enlightenment could be viewed in tension to humanism (“Introduction” n.p.). Indeed, the Enlightenment’s creation of modern science would come to seriously challenge any view of humanity’s privileged status in this world. In contrast, Renaissance humanism conceived of Man as the centrepiece of God’s design and gifted with artistic creation and the ability to uncover truth. Renaissance HumanismRenaissance humanism is encapsulated by Vasari’s preface to The Lives of the Artists. In his preface, Vasari contends that God was the first artist, being both a painter and sculptor: God on High, having created the great body of the world and having decorated the heavens with its brightest lights, descended with His intellect further down into the clarity of the atmosphere and the solidity of the earth, and, shaping man, discovered in the pleasing invention of things the first form of sculpture and painting. (3)Interestingly, God discovers creation, which is a type of decoration, where the skies are decorated with bright lights—the stars. Giving colour, light and shade to the world and heavens, qualifies God as a painter. The human body, according to Vasari, is sculpted by God, which in turn inspires artists to depict the human form. Art and design—God’s design—is thereby ‘at the origin of all things’ and not merely painting and sculpture, though the reality we know is still the product of God’s painting and sculpture. According to Vasari, God privileges Man not for his intellect per se, but by bestowing him with the ability of creation and design. Indeed, creativity and design are for Vasari a part of all intellectual discovery. Intellect is the mode of discovering design, which for Vasari, is also creation. Vasari claims “that divine light infused in us by a special act of grace which has not only made us superior to other animals but even similar, if it is permitted to say so, to God Himself” (4). God is more than just a maker, he is a creator with an aesthetic sense. All intellectual human endeavours, claims Vasari, are aesthetic and creative, in their comprehension of God’s design of the world. Vasari’s emphasis on design became outmoded as Renaissance humanism was challenged by the Enlightenment’s interest in humans and other animals as machines. However, evolution challenges even some mechanistic understandings of the human subject, which sometimes presupposed that the human-machine had a maker, as with William Paley’s watchmaker theory. As Richard Dawkins put it in The Blind Watchmaker, nature “has no vision, no foresight, no sight at all. If [evolution] can be said to play the role of the watchmaker in nature, it is the blind watchmaker” (“Chapter One: Explaining the Very Improbable” n.p.). No longer was God’s universe designed for Man’s comprehension and appreciation, foretelling humanity’s own potential extinction.Man and God’s DeathThe idea that humanity was created by blind processes raises the question of what sort of depiction of the human subject is possible after the death of God and the Enlightenment’s tendency toward disenchantment? An art and self-understanding founded on atheism would be in sharp distinction to Vasari’s characterisation of the nature as an artwork coloured by the divine painter and sculptor in the heavens. Man’s creativity and design are, for the Renaissance humanist, part of discovery, the embodied realisations and iterations of the Platonic realm of divine forms. But such designs, wondrous for Vasari, can be viewed as shadows without origin in a post-God world. In Vasari, Platonism is still present where the artist’s creation becomes a way of discerning the origin of all forms, God himself. Yet, without divine origin, these forms are no longer discoveries and the possibility emerges that they are not even creations, emptied of the divine meaning that gave Man’s creative and scientific work value. Nietzsche understood that the loss of God called for the revaluation of all values. This is why Nietzsche claims that God’s death signifies the death of Man. For Nietzsche, the last Man was such an iteration, a shadow of what man had been (Thus Spoke Zarathustra 9-10). The Post-Man, the Übermensch, is one who extends the human power of creation and evaluation. In Vasari, Man is a model created by God. Nietzsche extends this logic: Man is his own creation as is God Man’s model. Man is capable of self-construction and overcoming without the hindrance of the divine. This freedom unlocked by auto-creation renders Man capable of making himself God. As such, art remains a source of sacred power for Nietzsche since it is a process of creative evaluation. The sacred is affirmed against secular profanity. For Nietzsche, God must be envisaged as Dionysus, a God that Nietzsche claims takes on a human form in Greek festivals dedicated to creation and fecundity. Mankind, in order to continue to have value after God’s death, “must become gods”, must take the place of God (The Gay Science 120). Nietzsche, All-Too HumanistNietzsche begins a project of rethinking Man as a category. Yet there is much in common with Renaissance humanism generated by Nietzsche’s Dionysian belief in a merger between God and Man. Man is overcome by a stronger and more creative figure, that of the Übermensch. By comparing Nietzsche with Vasari we can understand just how humanist Nietzsche remained. Indeed, Nietzsche fervently admired the Renaissance as a rebirth of paganism. Such an assessment of the rebirth of pagan art and values can almost be found in Vasari himself. Vasari claimed that pagan art, far from being blasphemous, brought Man closer to the divine in a tribute to the creativity of God. Vasari’s criticism of Christianity is careful but present. Indeed, Vasari—in a way that anticipates Nietzsche’s view that secular sacrilege was merely an extension of Christian sacrilege—attacks Christian iconoclasm, noting that barbarians and Christians worked together to destroy sacred forms of art: not only did [early Christianity] ruin or cast to the ground all the marvellous statues, sculptures, paintings, mosaics, and ornaments of the false pagan gods, but it also did away with the memorials and testimonials to an infinite number of illustrious people, in whose honour statues and other memorials had been constructed in public places by the genius of antiquity. (5) In this respect, Vasari embodies the values Nietzsche so praised in the Italian Renaissance. Vasari emphasises the artistic creations that enshrine distinctions of value and social hierarchy. While Vasari continues Platonic notions that ideals exist before human creation, he nevertheless holds human creation as a realisation and embodiment of the ideal, which is not dissimilar to Nietzsche’s notion of divine embodiment. For Nietzsche and Vasari, Man is exulted when he can rise, like a god, above other men. Another possibility would be to lower Man to just another animal. One way to envision such a lowering would be to subvert the mode by which Man is deemed God-like. Art that engages with the death of Man helps conceptualise subhumanism and the way that the subject ceases to be raised above the animal. What follows are studies of artworks that unbuild the subject. Francis Bacon’s “Study of a Baboon”Francis Bacon’s work challenges the human subject by depicting nonhuman subjects, where the flesh is torn open and Man’s animal flesh is exposed. Sometimes Bacon does not merely disfigure the human form but violently abandons it to focus on animals that reveal animal qualities latent in the subject. Bacon’s “Study of a Baboon”, expresses a sense of human devolution: Man devolved to monkey. In the work, we see a baboon within an enclosure, sitting above a tree that simultaneously resembles a gothic shadow, a cross, and even a smear. The dark, cross-like tree may suggest the conquering of God by a baboon, a type of monkey, recalling the old slander of Darwin’s theory, namely that Darwinism entailed that humanity descended from monkeys (which Darwin’s theory does not claim). But far from victorious, the monkey is in a state of suffering. While the baboon is not crucified on or by the tree, suffering pervades the frame. Its head resembles some sort of skull. The body is faintly painted in a melancholy blue with smudges of purple and is translucent and ghostly—at once a lump of matter and a spectral absence. We do not see the baboon through the cage. Instead we see through the baboon at the cage. Indeed, its very physiology involves the encountering of trauma as the head of the baboon does not simply connect to the body but stabs through the body as a sharp bone, perhaps opaquely evoking the violence of evolution. Similarly, the baboon’s tail seems to stab through the tree. Its eye is an enlarged void and a pupil is indicated by a bluish white triangle splitting through the void. The tree has something of the menacing and looming quality of a shadow and there is a sense of wilderness confronted by death and entrapment, evoked through the background. The yellowy ground is suggestive of dead grass. While potentially gesturing to the psychical confusion and intensity of Vincent Van Gogh or Edvard Munch, the yellowed grass more likely evokes the empty, barren and hostile planes of the desert and contrasts with the darkened colours. The baboon sitting on the cross/tree may seem to have reached some sort of pinnacle but such a status is mocked by the tree that manages to continue outside the fence: the branches nightmarishly protrude through the fence to conquer the frame, which in turn furthers the sense of inescapable entrapment and threat. The baboon is thereby precluded from reaching a higher point on the tree, unable to climb the branches, and underscores the baboon’s confines. The painting is labelled a study, which may suggest it is unfinished. However, Bacon’s completed works preserve an unfinished quality. This unfinished quality conveys a sense in which Man and evolution are unfinished and that being finished in the sense of being completed is no longer possible. The idea that there can finished work of art, a work of art that preserves an eternal meaning, has been repeatedly subject to serious doubt, including by artists themselves. Indeed, Bacon’s work erases the potential for perfection and completion, and breaks down, through devolution, what has been achieved by Man and the forces that shaped him. The subject is lowered from that of human to that of a baboon and is therefore, by Vasari’s Renaissance reasoning, not a subject at all. Bacon’s sketch and study exist to evoke a sense of incompletion, involving pain without resolution. The animal state of pain is therefore married with existential entrapment and isolation as art ceases to express the Platonic ideal and aims to show the truth of the shadow—namely that humanity is without a God, a God that previously shed light on humanity’s condition and anchored the human subject. If there is a trace or echo of human nobility left, such a trace functions through the wild and violent quality of animal indignation. A scream of painful indignity is the last act approaching (or descending from) any dignity that is afforded. Jan Švankmajer’s Darkness, Light, DarknessAn even more extreme case of the subject no longer being the subject, of being broken and muted—so much so that animal protest is annulled—can be witnessed in Jan Švankmajer’s animated short Darkness, Light, Darkness. In the animation, green clay hands mould and form a human body in order to be part of it. But when complete, the human body is trapped, grotesquely out of proportion with its environment. The film begins in a darkened house. There is a knocking of the door, and then the first green hand opens the door and turns on the light. The hand falls to the floor, blindly making its way to another door on the opposite side of the house. The hand opens the door only for eyeballs to roll out. The eyes look around. The hand pushes its clay fingers against the eyeballs, and the eyeballs become attached to the fingers. Suddenly with sight, the hand is able to lift itself up. The hand discovers that another hand is knocking at the door. The first hand helps the second hand, and then goes to the window where a pair of ears are stuck together flapping like a moth. The hands work together and break the ears apart. The first hand, the one with eyes, attaches the ears to the second hand. Then a head with a snout, but missing eyes and ears, enters through the door. The hands pull the snout until it becomes a nose, suppressing and remoulding the animal until it becomes human. As with Bacon, the violence of evolution, of auto-construction is conveyed indirectly: in Bacon’s case, through painted devolution and, in the case of the claymation, through a violent construction based on mutilation and smashing body parts together.Although I have described only three minutes of the seven-minute film, it already presents an image of human construction devoid of art or divine design. Man, or rather the hands, become the blind watchman of evolution. The hands work contingently, with what they are provided. They shape themselves based on need. The body, after all, exists as parts, and the human body is made up of other life forms, both sustaining and being sustained by them. The hands work together, and sacrifice sight and hearing for the head. They tear off the ears and remove the eyes and give them to the head. Transcendence is exchanged for subsistence. The absurdity of this contingency becomes most apparent when the hands attempt to merge with the head, to be the head’s feet. Then the feet actually arrive and are attached to the head’s neck. The human subject in such a state is thereby deformed and incomplete. It is a frightened form, cowering when it hears banging at the door. It turns out that the banging is being produced by an angry erect penis pounding at the door. However, even this symbol of masculine potency is subdued, rendered harmless by the hands that splash a bucket of cold water on it. The introduction of the penis signifies the masculinist notions implicit in the term Man, but we only ever see the penis when it is flaccid. The human subject is able to be concluded when clay pours from both doors and the window. The hands sculpt the clay and make the body, which, when complete is oversized and barely fits within the house. The male subject is then trapped, cramped in a foetal position. With its head against the ceiling next to the light, breathing heavily, all it can do is turn out the light. The head opens its mouth either in horror or a state of exertion and gasps. The eyes bulge before one of the body’s hands turns switch, perhaps suggesting terror before death or simply the effort involved in turning off the light. Once completed and built, the human subject remains in the dark. Despite the evident quirky, playful humour, Švankmajer’s film reflects an exhaustion with art itself. Human life becomes clay comically finding its own form. For Vasari, the ideal of the human form is realised first by God and then by Man through marble; for Švankmajer it is green clay. He demotes man back to the substance for a God to mould but, as there is no God to breathe life into it and give form, there is just the body to imperfectly mould itself. The film challenges both Vasari’s humanism and the suprahumanism of Nietzschean spectacle. Instead of the self-generating power and radical interdependence and agency of Übermensch, Švankmajer’s sub-subject is Man undercome—man beneath as opposed to over man, man mocked by its ambition, and with no space to stand high. Švankmajer thereby realises the anti-Nietzschean potential inherent within cinema’s anti-spectacular nature. Antonin Artaud, who extends the aesthetics advanced by Nietzsche in The Birth of Tragedy, contrasts the theatre’s sense of animal life with cinema. Artaud observes that movies “murder us with second-hand reproductions […] filtered through machines” (84). Thus, films murder creative and animal power as film flattens life to a dead realm of reproduction. Continuing Jacques Derrida’s hauntological framing of the screen, the animation theorist Alan Cholodenko has argued that the screen implies death. Motion is dead and replaced by illusion, a recording relayed back to us. What renders cinema haunting also renders it hauntological. For Cholodenko, cinema’s animation challenges ontology and metaphysics by eschewing stable ontologies through a process that entails both presence and absence. As Cholodenko points out, all film is a type of animation and reanimation, of making images move that are not in fact moving. Thus, one can argue that the animated-animation (such as Švankmajer’s claymation) becomes a refinement of death, a Frankesteinian reanimation of dead material. Indeed, Darkness, Light, Darkness accentuates the presence of death with the green clay almost resembling putrefaction. The fingerprints on the clay accentuate a lack of life, for the autonomous and dead matter that constructs and shapes a dead body from seemingly severed body parts. Even the title of the film, Darkness, Light, Darkness reflects an experience of cinema as deflation rather than joyous spectacle. One goes to a darkened space, watches light flicker on a screen and then the light goes out again. The cartoonish motions of the hands and body parts in the film look only half alive and therefore seem half-dead. Made in the decaying Communist state of Czechoslovakia, Švankmajer’s film aptly acknowledges the deflation of cinema, reflecting that illumination—the light of God, is put out, or more specifically, switched off. With the light of God switched off, creation becomes construction and construction becomes reconstruction, filtered through cinema’s machine processes as framed through Cholodenko. Still, Švankmajer’s animation is not unsympathetic to the plight of the hands. We do see the body parts work together. When a vulgar, meaty, non-claymation tongue comes out through the door, it goes straight to the other door to let the teeth in. The teeth and tongue are aided by the hands to complete the face. Indeed, what they produce is a human being, which has some sense of coherence and success—a success enmeshed with failure and entrapment. Piccinini’s “The Young Family”Patricia Piccinini’s sculptural works offer a more tender approach to the subject, especially when her works focus on the nonhuman animal with human characteristics. Piccinini is interested in the combinations of the animal and the machine, so her ideas can be seen almost as transhuman, where the human is extended beyond humanism. Her work is based on connection and connectedness, but does not emphasise the humanist values of innovation and self-creation often inherent to transhumanism. Indeed, the emphasis on connection is distinct from the entrapment of Bacon’s baboon and Švankmajer’s clay human, which half lament freedom’s negation.The way that Piccinini preserves aspects of humanism within a framework of subhumanism is evident in her work “The Young Family”. The hypperrealistic sculpture depicts a humanoid pig form, flopped, presumably exhausted, as piglet-babies suckle on her nipples. The work was inspired by a scientific proposal for pigs to be genetically modified to provide organs for humans (“Educational Resource” 5). Such a transhuman setting frames a subhuman aesthetic. Care is taken to render the scene with sentiment but without a sense of the ideal, without perfection. One baby-piglet tenderly grasps its foot with both hands and stares with love at its mother. We see two piglets enthusiastically sucking their mother’s teat, while a third baby/piglet’s bottom is visible, indicating that there is a third piglet scrambling for milk. The mother gazes at us, with her naked mammalian body visible. We see her wrinkles and veins. There is some fur on her head and some hair on her eyebrows humanising her. Indeed, her eyes are distinctly human and convey affection. Affection seems to be a motif that carries through to the materials (carefully crafted by Piccinini’s studio). The affection displayed in the artwork is trans-special, emphasising that human tenderness is in fact mammalian tenderness. Such tenderness conflates the human, the nonhuman animal and the material out of which the humanoid creature and its young are constructed. The sub-agency brings together the young and the old by displaying the closeness of the family. Something of this sub-subjectivity is theorised in Malcolm Bull’s Anti-Nietzsche, where he contrasts Nietzsche’s idea of the Übermensch with the idea of the subhuman. Bull writes that subhumanism involves giving up on “becoming more than a man and think[ing] only of becoming something less” (n.p.; Chapter 2, sec. “The Subhuman”). Piccinini depicts vulnerability and tenderness with life forms that are properly speaking subhuman, and reject the displays of strength of Nietzsche’s suprahumanism or Vasari’s emphasis on art commemorating great men. But Piccinini’s subhumanism preserves enough humanism to understand art’s ability to encourage an ethics of nurturing. In this respect, her works offer an alternative to Bull’s subhumanism that aims, so Bull argues, to devalue art altogether. Instead, Piccinini affirms imagination, but through its ability to conjure new ways to perceive animal affection. The sub-subject thereby functions to reveal states of emotion common to mammals (including humans) and other animals. ConclusionThese three artists therefore convey distinct, if related and intersecting, ways of visualising the sub-subject: Bacon through animal suffering, Švankmajer through adaptation that ultimately leads to the agent’s entrapment, and Piccinini who, instead of marrying anti-humanism with the subhumanism (the procedure of Švankmajer, and Bacon), integrates aspects of transhumanism and Renaissance humanism into her subhuman vision. As such, these works present a realisation of how we might think of the going under of the human subject after Darwin, Nietzsche and the deaths of God, Man and the diminishment of creativity. Such works remain not only antithetical to Vasari’s humanism but also to Nietzsche’s suprahumanism. These artists use art’s power to humble—not through overpowering awe but through the visible breakdown of the human agent, speaking for and to the sub-subject. Such art, by unbuilding and dismantling the subject, draws on prehuman trajectories of evolution, and in the case of Piccinini, transhuman trajectories. Art ceases to be about the grandiose evocations of power. Rather, more modestly, these works build a connection between the human with other mammals. Acknowledgements I wish to acknowledge Daniel Canaris for his valuable insights into Christianity and the Italian Renaissance, Alan Cholodenko for providing copies of his works that were central to my interpretation of Švankmajer, and Rachel Franks and Simon Dwyer for their invaluable assistance and finding very helpful reviewers. References Artaud, Antonin. The Theatre and Its Double. New York: Grove P, 1958.Art Gallery of South Australia. “Educational Resource Patricia Piccinini.” Adelaide: Art Gallery of South Australia. 11 Dec. 2016 <https://www.artgallery.sa.gov.au/agsa/home/Learning/docs/Online_Resources/Piccinini_online_resource.pdf>.Bacon, Francis. “Head I.” 1948. Oil on Canvas. 100.3 x 74.9cm. ———. “Study of a Baboon.” 1953. Oil on Canvas. 198.3 x 137.3cm. Bull, Malcolm. Anti-Nietzsche. New York: Verso, 2011. Cholodenko, Alan. “First Principles of Animation.” Animating Film Theory. Ed. Karen Beckman. Duke UP, 2014. 98-110.———. “The Crypt, the Haunted House, of Cinema.” Cultural Studies Review 10.2 (2004): 99-113. Darkness, Light, Darkness. Jan Švankmajer, 1990. 35mm. Nietzsche, Friedrich. The Birth of Tragedy and Other Writings. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2007. ———. The Gay Science. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2007. ———. Thus Spoke Zarathustra. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2006.Piccinini, Patricia. “The Young Family.” 2002. Silicone, Polyurethane, Leather, Plywood, Human Hair, 80 x 150 x 110cm. Vasari, Giorgio. The Lives of Artists. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1998.Wolfe, Cary. What Is Posthumanism? Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 2010.