Academic literature on the topic 'New Jersey poet'

A documentary photograph from the exhibition 15 Years of Artists of the RSFSR (Khudozhniki RSFSR za 15 let) that opened in Moscow in June 1933 shows the extent to which contemporaries perceived this show as a watershed, a moment when the last remnants of the bourgeois culture of prerevolutionary Russia definitively gave way to the proletarian culture of the rapidly modernizing Soviet Union. A clean-cut and athletic Soviet youth looks straight into the eyes of the refined symbolist poet, playwright, critic, and translator Mikhail Kuz'min as painted in 1926 by a fellow member of the artistic group World of Art (Mir Iskusstva), Nikolai Radlov. In this confrontation, Kuz'min seems to embody everything the Soviet Union had done away with. The height of his fame as a Symbolist poet was the 1900s and 1910s; in the early 1930s, he was still writing poetry, but was unable to publish and increasingly marginalized. In the painting's background, a mythic landscape set within an arched window typical of Renaissance portraits ties him to the Western humanist tradition. Kuz'min's bodily posture invites contact: Seated close to the picture plane with open arms, he appears to look out. Yet the poet also seems reserved and distant, perhaps because of his formal dress, and introspective: The lit cigarette at the level of his mouth and his semi-open book signal that he is preoccupied with a subject other than his interlocutor. The youth, on the other hand, has the confident, even somewhat condescending look of a master of the universe (khoziain zhizni), with folded arms and a slightly skeptical glance. Wearing a fashionable sports shirt on his fit body, he represents the ideal of the times: a healthy, physically strong, and ideologically prepared builder of a socialist society who, both literally and figuratively, embodies the Soviet future. Such an ideal is exemplified by Aleksandr Samokhvalov's contemporaneous painting Girl in a Soccer Jersey (Devushka v futbolke), which was displayed in the same exhibition and quickly became an iconic symbol of Soviet athletic youth. This seemingly antagonistic encounter between representatives of the Soviet past and future simultaneously reflects the change in the official rhetoric. By 1933 it was conciliatory in tone, having firmly replaced the open class conflict of the preceding years, and bourgeois specialists were not only welcomed back into the fold of Soviet society, they were offered privileges if they worked for the new state.

The widespread concern in recent South African poetry with landscape and the question of what place the poet occupies in that landscape arises less as a response to the turn of the millennium than to the historical end of formal apartheid, but nonetheless marks an epochal shift in sensibility. Whereas much poetry of the 1980s evoked a sense of extreme dislocation in recent time and local space (marked by references to a precarious present of forced removal and migrancy, and unspecified, unsettled futures), some significant recent work has been marked by a desire to relocate the human presence in South Africa in terms of geological time and continental space. This generalization needs to be qualified by reference to racial and political positioning within South Africa, and in this paper I distinguish between the work of committed white writers such as ex-political-prisoner Jeremy Cronin (now Secretary of the South African Communist Party) and Barry Feinberg (now curator of the Mayibuye Centre), and the work of black writers such as Don Mattera, Seitlhamo Motsapi, Lesego Rampolokeng, and Daniel P Kunene. The regrounding of the human presence in South Africa by white writers such as Cronin and Feinberg attempts a radical remapping of South African cultural identity in utopianly unraced terms, while the reclamation of continental African and local South African place names by black writers such as Mattera, Motsapi, Rampolokeng, and Kunene draws attention to the material reality of a postapartheid heterotopia in which South Africa's postmodern landscape is being divided up and sold off in ways that combine a very old-fashioned rhetoric of class and space with a new/old racial coding.

For those readers seeking an engaging general introduction to the classical world, The Ancient World by Jeremy Toner would make an excellent first port of call. It is part of a new (though hardly original) series of ‘Small Introductions to Big Topics’ which thus far includes Politics, Art in History, and Shakespeare. The book chooses to focus not on toga-clad Romans and gleaming marbles temples but on that ‘other’ ancient world filled with noise, colour, death, and disease, populated not primarily by emperors and poets but by the ‘silent’ majority of slaves and the freeborn poor. Despite the catch-all title, this is a book which is more obviously about the Roman than the Greek world. This is, however, a small grumble and Toner's enthusiasm for his subject is infectious. Of particular interest is the discussion of watermills and the generation of energy (71–6), comparison between the empires of Rome and China (104–18), and the way in which a ‘Rome-coloured vision’ from the medieval period up to the high-classical watermark of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries informed the West's perspective of, and engagement with, Islam (122–30). Illustrations are not abundant (and it is a shame not to have included a picture of the Vietnam Memorial discussed on pages 135–7), but they are decent enough, with several helpful maps of the Hellenistic and Roman worlds (with the seas – the Black Sea and Red Sea included – coloured pink – neatly complementing the book's presentation of a less-familiar-looking ancient world).

Lee, Dennis. Melvis and Elvis. Illus. Jeremy Tankard. Toronto: Harper Collins, 2015. Print.In this new anthology of poetry for children, the inimitable Dennis Lee lets us explore our moods: silly or serious, playful or pugnacious, riotous, rebellious and just plain rude. In typical Lee fashion, he eschews sentimentality: The dog got fat— His belly exploded And that was that. (“Cabbagetown,” p. 22)but he is also capable of stealing the heart with simple, lovely metaphor: Bobolink, bobolink, Take me along. I’ll be the silence And you be the song. (“Bobolink,” p. 21)He teases the tongue with creative wordplay (a Dennis Lee trademark): I thought I saw a potamus, Asleep upon a cotamus, But when I reached the spotamus, The potamus was notamus. (“The Notapotamus,” p. 29)Ever true to his audience, he does not flinch from the reality of childhood emotion, be it longing: If you could like me, Like me now, As deep as the dreams In your heart allow. (“The New Friend,” p. 30)or loathing: Doodle, doodle, poppyseed strudel, I’ve got a friend and he smells like a poodle. * * * Push him down a wishing well— Still can’t stop that awful smell. (“Stinkarama,” p. 26) The book is cleverly structured, beginning and ending with poems about Melvis the monster and Elvis the elf, the final selection subtly acknowledging both the “inner monster” and the “inner elf” of the child.Jeremy Tankard’s illustrations are highly suited to the text. He uses bold outline, vivid color, and complementary backgrounds to effect focus, clarity and mood. Preschoolers and beginning readers should have no trouble relating poem and picture.This is a book that could be shared repeatedly with children at bedtime or in storyhour. However, a parent, teacher, or librarian would want occasionally to interject, “Do we sometimes feel like that? Would we actually say that or do that?” That being understood, it is a good selection for home, school and public libraries.Recommended: 3 out of 4 starsReviewer: Leslie AitkenLeslie Aitken’s long career in librarianship involved selection of children’s literature for school, public, special, and university collections. She is a former Curriculum Librarian at the University of Alberta.

Elizabeth Wilmot, Countess of Rochester, is best known to most modern readers as the woman John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester, abducted and later wed. As Samuel Pepys memorably records in his diary entry for 28 May 1665:Thence to my Lady Sandwich’s, where, to my shame, I had not been a great while before. Here, upon my telling her a story of my Lord Rochester’s running away on Friday night last with Mrs Mallet, the great beauty and fortune of the North, who had supped at Whitehall with Mrs Stewart, and was going home to her lodgings with her grandfather, my Lord Haly, by coach; and was at Charing Cross seized on by both horse and footmen, and forcibly taken from him, and put into a coach with six horses, and two women provided to receive her, and carried away. Upon immediate pursuit, my Lord of Rochester (for whom the King had spoke to the lady often, but with no success) was taken at Uxbridge; but the lady is not yet heard of, and the King mighty angry and the Lord sent to the Tower. (http://www.pepysdiary.com/)Here Pepys provides an anecdote that offers what Helen Deutsch has described in another context as “the elusive possibility of truth embodied by ‘things in themselves,’ by the things, that is, preserved in anecdotal form” (28). Pepys’s diary entry yields up an “elusive possibility” of embodied truth; his version of Wilmot’s abduction solidifies what he perceives to be the most notable features of her identity: her beauty, her wealth, and her sexual trajectory.Pepys’s conclusion that “the lady is not yet heard of” complicates this idea of anecdotal preservation, for he neatly ties up his story of Wilmot’s body by erasing her from it: she is removed, voiceless and disembodied, from even this anecdote of her own abduction. Pepys’s double maneuver demonstrates the complex set of interactions surrounding the preservation of early modern women’s sexual and textual selves. Written into Pepys’s diary and writing in conversation with her husband, Wilmot has generally been treated as a subordinate historical and literary figure—a character rather than an agent or an author. The richness of Wilmot’s own writing has been largely ignored; her manuscript poetry has been treated as an artefact and a source of autobiographical material, whereas Rochester’s poetry—itself teeming with autobiographical details, references to material culture, and ephemera—is recognised and esteemed as literary. Rochester’s work provides a tremendous resource, a window through which we can read and re-read his wife’s work in ways that enlighten and open up readings rather than closing them down, and her works similarly complicate his writings.By looking at Wilmot as a case study, I would like to draw attention to some of the continued dilemmas that scholars face when we attempt to recover early modern women’s writing. With this study, I will focus on distinct features of Wilmot’s sexual and textual identity. I will consider assumptions about female docility; the politics and poetics of erotic espionage; and Wilmot’s construction of fugitive desires in her poetry. Like the writings of many early modern women, Wilmot’s manuscript poetry challenges assumptions about the intersections of gender, sexuality, and authorship. Early Modern Women’s Docile Bodies?As the entry from Pepys’s diary suggests, Wilmot has been constructed as a docile female body—she is rendered “ideal” according to a set of gendered practices by which “inferior status has been inscribed” on her body (Bartky 139). Contrasting Pepys’s references to Wilmot’s beauty and marriageability with Wilmot’s own vivid descriptions of sexual desire highlights Wilmot’s tactical awareness and deployment of her inscribed form. In one of her manuscript poems, she writes:Nothing ades to Loves fond fireMore than scorn and cold disdainI to cherish your desirekindness used but twas in vainyou insulted on your SlaveTo be mine you soon refusedHope hope not then the power to haveWhich ingloriously you used. (230)This poem yields up a wealth of autobiographical information and provides glimpses into Wilmot’s psychology. Rochester spent much of his married life having affairs with women and men, and Wilmot represents herself as embodying her devotion to her husband even as he rejects her. In a recent blog entry about Wilmot’s poetry, Ellen Moody suggests that Wilmot “must maintain her invulnerable guard or will be hurt; the mores damn her whatever she does.” Interpretations of Wilmot’s verse typically overlay such sentiments on her words: she is damned by social mores, forced to configure her body and desire according to rigorous social codes that expect women to be pure and inviolable yet also accessible to their lovers and “invulnerable” to the pain produced by infidelity. Such interpretations, however, deny Wilmot the textual and sexual agency accorded to Rochester, begging the question of whether or not we have moved beyond reading women’s writing as essential, natural, and embodied. Thus while these lines might in fact yield up insights into Wilmot’s psychosocial and sexual identities, we continue to marginalise her writing and by extension her author-self if we insist on taking her words at face value. Compare, for example, Wilmot’s verse to the following song by her contemporary Aphra Behn:Love in Fantastique Triumph satt,Whilst Bleeding Hearts a round him flow’d,For whom Fresh paines he did Create,And strange Tyranick power he show’d;From thy Bright Eyes he took his fire,Which round about, in sports he hurl’d;But ’twas from mine, he took desire,Enough to undo the Amorous World. (53) This poem, which first appeared in Behn’s tragedy Abdelazer (1677) and was later printed in Poems upon Several Occasions (1684), was one of Behn’s most popular lyric verses. In the 1920s and 1930s Ernest Bernbaum, Montague Summers, Edmund Gosse, and others mined Behn’s works for autobiographical details and suggested that such historical details were all that her works offered—a trend that continued, disturbingly, into the later half of the twentieth century. Since the 1980s, Paula R. Backscheider, Ros Ballaster, Catherine Gallagher, Robert Markley, Paul Salzman, Jane Spencer, and Janet Todd have shown that Behn’s works are not simple autobiographical documents; they are the carefully crafted productions of a literary professional. Even though Behn’s song evokes a masochistic relationship between lover and beloved much like Wilmot’s song, critics treat “Love Arm’d” as a literary work rather than a literal transcription of female desire. Of course there are material differences between Wilmot’s song and Behn’s “Love Arm’d,” the most notable of which involves Behn’s self-conscious professionalism and her poem’s entrenchment in the structures of performance and print culture. But as scholars including Kathryn King and Margaret J. M. Ezell have begun to suggest, print publication was not the only way for writers to produce and circulate literary texts. King has demonstrated the ways in which female authors of manuscripts were producing social texts (563), and Ezell has shown that “collapsing ‘public’ into ‘publication’” leads modern readers to “overlook the importance of the social function of literature for women as well as men” (39). Wilmot’s poems did not go through the same material, ideological, and commercial processes as Behn’s poems did, but they participated in a social and cultural network of exchange that operated according to its own rules and that, significantly, was the same network that Rochester himself used for the circulation of his verses. Wilmot’s writings constitute about half of the manuscript Portland PwV 31, held by Hallward Library, University of Nottingham—a manuscript catalogued in the Perdita Project but lacking a description and biographical note. Teresa D. Kemp has discussed the impact of the Perdita Project on the study of early modern women’s writing in Feminist Teacher, and Jill Seal Millman and Elizabeth Clarke (both of whom are involved with the project) have also written articles about the usability of the database. Like many of the women writers catalogued by the Perdita Project, Wilmot lacks her own entry in the Dictionary of National Biography and is instead relegated to the periphery in Rochester’s entry.The nineteen-page folio includes poems by both Rochester and Wilmot. The first eight poems are autograph manuscript poems by Rochester, and a scene from a manuscript play ‘Scaene 1st, Mr. Daynty’s chamber’ is also included. The remaining poems, excluding one without attribution, are by Wilmot and are identified on the finding aid as follows:Autograph MS poem, entitled ‘Song’, by Elizabeth WilmotAutograph MS poem, entitled ‘Song’, by Elizabeth WilmotAutograph MS poem, entitled ‘Song’, by Elizabeth WilmotMS poem, untitled, not ascribed Autograph MS poem, entitled ‘Song’, by Elizabeth WilmotAutograph MS poem, untitled, by Elizabeth WilmotAutograph MS poem, untitled, by Elizabeth WilmotAutograph MS poem, untitled, by Elizabeth Wilmot Autograph MS poem, untitled, by Elizabeth WilmotTwo of the songs (including the lyric quoted above) have been published in Kissing the Rod with the disclaimer that marks of revision reveal that “Lady Rochester was not serving as an amanuensis for her husband” yet the editors maintain that “some sort of literary collaboration cannot be ruled out” (230), implying that Rochester helped his wife write her poetry. Establishing a non-hierarchical strategy for reading women’s collaborative manuscript writing here seems necessary. Unlike Behn, who produced works in manuscript and in print and whose maximization of the slippages between these modes has recently been analyzed by Anne Russell, Wilmot and Rochester both wrote primarily in manuscript. Yet only Rochester’s writings have been accorded literary status by historians of the book and of manuscript theory such as Harold Love and Arthur Marotti. Even though John Wilders notes that Rochester’s earliest poems were dialogues written with his wife, the literariness of her contributions is often undercut. Wilders offers a helpful suggestion that the dialogues set up by these poems helps “hint … at further complexities in the other” (51), but the complexities are identified as sexual rather than textual. Further, the poems are treated as responses to Rochester rather than conversations with him. Readers like Moody, moreover, draw reflections of marital psychology from Wilmot’s poems instead of considering their polysemic qualities and other literary traits. Instead of approaching the lines quoted above from Wilmot’s song as indications of her erotic and conjugal desire for her husband, we can consider her confident deployment of metaphysical conceits, her careful rhymes, and her visceral imagery. Furthermore, we can locate ways in which Wilmot and Rochester use the device of the answer poem to build a complex dialogue rather than a hierarchical relationship in which one voice dominates the other. The poems comprising Portland PwV 31 are written in two hands and two voices; they complement one another, but neither contains or controls the other. Despite the fact that David Farley-Hills dismissively calls this an “‘answer’ to this poem written in Lady Rochester’s handwriting” (29), the verses coexist in playful exchange textually as well as sexually. Erotic Exchange, Erotic EspionageBut does a reorientation of literary criticism away from Wilmot’s body and towards her body of verse necessarily entail a loss of her sexual and artefactual identity? Along with the account from Pepys’s diary mentioned at the outset of this study, letters from Rochester to his wife survive that provide a prosaic account of the couple’s married life. For instance, Rochester writes to her: “I love not myself as much as you do” (quoted in Green 159). Letters from Rochester to his wife typically showcase his playfulness, wit, and ribaldry (in one letter, he berates the artist responsible for two miniatures of Wilmot in strokes that are humorous yet also charged with a satire that borders on invective). The couple’s relationship was beleaguered by the doubts, infidelities, and sexual double standards that an autobiographical reading of Wilmot’s songs yields up, therefore it seems as counterproductive for feminist literary theory, criticism, and recovery work to entirely dispense with the autobiographical readings as it seems reductive to entirely rely on them. When approaching works like these manuscript poems, then, I propose using a model of erotic exchange and erotic espionage in tandem with more text-bound modes of literary criticism. To make this maneuver, we might begin by considering Gayle Rubin’s proposition that “If women are the gifts, then it is men who are the exchange partners. And it is the partners, not the presents, upon whom reciprocal exchange confers its quasi-mystical power of social linkage” (398). Wilmot’s poetry relentlessly unsettles the binary set up between partner and present, thereby demanding a more pluralistic identification of sexual and textual economies. Wilmot constructs Rochester as absent (“Thats caused by absence norished by despaire”), which is an explicit inversion of the gendered terms stereotypically deployed in poetry (the absent woman in works by Rochester as well as later satirists like Jonathan Swift and Alexander Pope often catalyzes sexual desire) that also registers Wilmot’s autobiographical contexts. She was, during most of her married life, living with his mother, her own mother, and Rochester’s nieces in his house at Adderbury while he stayed in London. The desire in Wilmot’s poetry is textualised as much as it is sexualised; weaving this doublebraid of desires and designs together ultimately provides the most complete interpretation of the verses. I read the verses as offering a literary form of erotic espionage in which Wilmot serves simultaneously as erotic object and author. That is, she both is and is not the Cloris of her (and Rochester’s) poetry, capable of looking on and authorizing her desired and desiring body. The lyric in which Wilmot writes “He would return the fugitive with Shame” provides the clearest example of the interpretive tactic that I am proposing. The line, from Wilmot’s song “Cloris misfortunes that can be exprest,” refers to the deity of Love in its complete context:Such conquering charmes contribute to my chainAnd ade fresh torments to my lingering painThat could blind Love juge of my faithful flameHe would return the fugitive with ShameFor having bin insenceable to loveThat does by constancy it merritt prove. (232)The speaker of the poem invokes Cupid and calls on “blind Love” to judge “my faithful flame.” The beloved would then be returned “fugitive with Shame” because “blind Love” would have weighed the lover’s passion and the beloved’s insensibility. Interestingly, the gender of the beloved and the lover are not marked in this poem. Only Cupid is marked as male. Although the lover is hypothetically associated with femaleness in the final stanza (“She that calls not reason to her aid / Deserves the punishmentt”), the ascription could as easily be gendering the trait of irrationality as gendering the subject/author of the poem. Desire, complaint, and power circulate in the song in a manner that lacks clear reference; the reader receives glimpses into an erotic world that is far more ornately literary than it is material. That is, reading the poem makes one aware of tropes of power and desire, whereas actual bodies recede into the margins of the text—identifiable because of the author’s handwriting, not a uniquely female perspective on sexuality or (contrary to Moody’s interpretation) a specifically feminine acquiescence to gender norms. Strategies for Reading a Body of VerseWilmot’s poetry participates in what might be described as two distinct poetic and political modes. On one hand, her writing reproduces textual expectations about Restoration answer poems, songs and lyrics, and romantic verses. She crafts poetry that corresponds to the same textual conventions that men like Rochester, John Dryden, Abraham Cowley, and William Cavendish utilised when they wrote in manuscript. For Wilmot, as for her male contemporaries, such manuscript writing would have been socially circulated; at the same time, the manuscript documents had a fluidity that was less common in print texts. Dryden and Behn’s published writings, for instance, often had a more literary context (“Love Arm’d” refers to Abdelazer, not to Behn’s sexual identity), whereas manuscript writing often referred to coteries of readers and writers, friends and lovers.As part of the volatile world of manuscript writing, Wilmot’s poetry also highlights her embodied erotic relationships. But over-reading—or only reading—the poetry as depicting a conjugal erotics limits our ability to recover Wilmot as an author and an agent. Feminist recovery work has opened many new tactics for incorporating women’s writing into existing literary canons; it has also helped us imagine ways of including female domestic work, sexuality, and other embodied forms into our understanding of early modern culture. By drawing together literary recovery work with a more material interest in recuperating women’s sexual bodies, we should begin to recuperate women like Wilmot not simply as authors or bodies but as both. The oscillations between the sexual and textual body in Wilmot’s poetry, and in our assessments of her life and writings, should help us approach her works (like the works of Rochester) as possessing a three-dimensionality that they have long been denied. ReferencesBartky, Sandra Lee. “Foucault, Femininity, and the Modernization of Patriarchal Power.” In Writing on the Body: Female Embodiment and Feminist Theory. Ed. Katie Conboy, Nadia Medina, and Sarah Stanbury. New York: Columbia University Press, 1997. 129-54.Behn, Aphra. “Song. Love Arm’d.” The Works of Aphra Behn. Volume 1: Poetry. Ed. Janet Todd. London: William Pickering, 1992. 53.Clarke, Elizabeth. “Introducing Hester Pulter and the Perdita Project.” Literature Compass 2.1 (2005). ‹http://www.blackwell-compass.com/subject/literature/article_view?article_id=lico_articles_bsl159›. Deutsch, Helen. Loving Doctor Johnson. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005.Diamond, Irene, Ed. Feminism and Foucault: Reflections on Resistance. Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1988.Ezell, Margaret J. M. Social Authorship and the Advent of Print. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1999.Farley-Hill, David. Rochester’s Poetry. Totowa: Rowman and Littlefield, 1978. Greene, Graham. Lord Rochester’s Monkey. New York: Penguin, 1974. Greer, Germaine, Susan Hastings, Jeslyn Medoff, and Melinda Sansone, Ed. Kissing the Rod: An Anthology of Seventeenth-Century Women’s Verse. New York: Noonday Press, 1988. Kemp, Theresa D. “Early Women Writers.” Feminist Teacher 18.3 (2008): 234-39.King, Kathryn. “Jane Barker, Poetical Recreations, and the Sociable Text.” ELH 61 (1994): 551-70.Love, Harold, and Arthur F. Marotti. "Manuscript Transmission and Circulation." The Cambridge History of Early Modern English Literature. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press, 2002. 55-80. Love, Harold. "Systemizing Sigla." English Manuscript Studies 1100-1700. 11 (2002): 217-230. Marotti, Arthur F. "Shakespeare's Sonnets and the Manuscript Circulation of Texts in Early Modern England." A Companion to Shakespeare's Sonnets. Oxford: Blackwell, 2007. 185-203.McNay, Lois. Foucault And Feminism: Power, Gender, and the Self. Boston: Northeastern, 1992.Moody, Ellen. “Elizabeth Wilmot (neé Mallet), Countess of Rochester, Another Woman Poet.” Blog entry 16 March 2006. 11 Nov. 2008 ‹http://server4.moody.cx/index.php?id=400›. Pepys, Samuel. The Diary of Samuel Pepys. 23 Aug. 2008 ‹http://www.pepysdiary.com/archive/1665/05/28/index.php›. Rubin, Gayle. “The Traffic in Women: Notes on the ‘Political Economy’ of Sex.” Feminist Literary Theory and Criticism: A Norton Reader, ed. Sandra M. Gilbert and Susan Gubar, 392-413. New York: Norton, 2007.Russell, Anne. “Aphra Behn, Textual Communities, and Pastoral Sobriquets.” English Language Notes 40.4 (June 2003): 41-50.———. “'Public' and 'Private' in Aphra Behn's Miscellanies: Women Writers, Print, and Manuscript.” Write or Be Written: Early Modern Women Poets and Cultural Constraints. Ed. Barbara Smith and Ursula Appelt. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2001. 29-48. Sawicki, Jana. Disciplining Foucault: Feminism, Power and the Body. New York: Routledge, 1991.Seal, Jill. "The Perdita Project—A Winter's Report." Early Modern Literary Studies 6.3 (January, 2001): 10.1-14. ‹http://purl.oclc.org/emls/06-3/perdita.htm›.Wilders, John. “Rochester and the Metaphysicals.” In Spirit of Wit: Reconsiderations of Rochester. Ed. Jeremy Treglown. Hamden: Archon, 1982. 42-57.Wilmot, Elizabeth, Countess of Rochester. “Song” (“Nothing Ades to Love's Fond Fire”) and “Song” (“Cloris Misfortunes That Can Be Exprest”) in Kissing the Rod. 230-32.

i'm going shopping -- but i'm not telling you where! What does one do when one opens the pages of one's favourite style bible -- in this case, the British magazine The Face -- and finds one's aesthetic choices stereotyped remorselessly? This unfortunate scenario confronted a humble graduate student a few months ago when I opened the March 1999 issue to find an article titled, appropriately, "Shopping". Written by one of The Face's staff journalists -- identified only by the initials 'JS' -- and subtitled "The yuppie's not dead. He's just changed his shoes", the article made a comparison between current aesthetic practices I am only too consciously aware of and that dreaded and reviled icon of the eighties, the yuppie. What I did -- once I recovered from the melodrama of being aesthetically outed in an international style magazine, that is -- was to think about the politics of aesthetics. In particular, about the connection between popular aesthetic practices and emergent class formations. of porterage bags and obscure label sneakers "In the Eighties everyone wanted to be a yuppie -- young, successful, status-driven, consumerist" begins the fateful article, "living the high life with a low regard for anything that wasn't flash, fancy or requiring gold credit". It wasn't enough to simply have money, you had to demonstrate it too. But the turn of the decade brought an end to this malignant species -- or so at least The Face says, and who am I to disagree with them? But in the dying days of the current decade, The Face believes it has identified a new breed of consumer -- the "consumer of alternative pricey products" or more succinctly, the cappie. Unlike the yuppie, for whom -- discursively, at least -- no act of consumption could be too conspicuous, the cappie is very particular about their consumer practices. If it's not obscure, if it's not hard to get, it doesn't rate. The cappie is fussy about their choices, about their consumer satisfaction. They don't know compromise: they want it, they can buy it -- and, if it's the right thing, at any price. Examples of consumer goods which attract the eye of the cappie include -- and it was here that I started to get worried -- obscure label trainers, rare Japanese denim (didn't you ever wonder what the story behind G-Star was?), the Massive Attack box collection and porterage bags. As someone who has scanned the streets of Brisbane to make sure not too many people have porterage bags like my own and who won't buy trainers unless they have a very high scarcity value, I felt unwillingly but undeniably interpellated by this article. Particularly when it concluded by saying "make no mistake -- [the cappie] is no less a consumer than the yuppie was". Ouch. However, it seems to me that The Face, as is so often the case, only got it half right. Not that I'm not a consumer (that would be special pleading!): after all, as a citizen of a client state of the United States, the economic function of which is to absorb the overproduction capacity of our host nation, I could hardly be anything else. No, it is the particular origin of the aesthetic of consumption practised/performed by cappies like me that The Face got wrong, and there is both textual and anecdotal evidence to support this claim. Textually, there is a significant difference between the aesthetic of consumption of the yuppie and that of the cappie as they are presented by The Face. The yuppie aesthetic was based, The Face argues, on the public display of a "common currency of success": "the wide-wheeled flash car, the wide-shouldered Italian suit, the celebrity restaurant" -- the conspicuous consumption of a set register of signifiers that denoted the exercise and possession of economic capital. In contrast, the cappie aesthetic as defined by The Face eschews the display of economic capital in favour of a fluctuating and eclectic register of signifiers -- the preferred labels are obscure and niche, their recognition unnecessary: "if you haven't heard of it, so much the better. ... He knows it's right, he doesn't need you to know" [italics and gender-exclusive pronouns in original]. Anecdotally, the consumption patterns practiced by myself and others who share a similar sense of aesthetics have been honed through years spent scouring op-shops for good scores. The trainers I like are not merely rare, they're also extraordinarily cheap. The football jersey I spent months searching for had to satisfy two important criteria on top of looking good: it had to be obscure, and it had to be a bargain. Now, to be sure, I was searching for the football jersey in the UK, which for an Australian is not a cheap holiday destination, and the trainers I prefer are cheap by my standards but not necessarily in an absolute sense, so I'm not trying to argue that the cappie -- assuming I am a suitable example of one -- is without economic capital. However, what I am arguing is that this aesthetic practice does not privilege the mere possession of economic capital, except as it enables the performance of the preferred stylistic register: that the determinant of last instance of the cappie aesthetic is not the ability to buy the appropriate significatory register but the knowledge of what it constitutes and how to read it. If there is the public display of distinction taking place in this aesthetic -- and I would suggest that, like all aesthetics, there clearly is -- it is not economic capital that is being conspicuously consumed, but cultural capital: i.e., knowledge. If the origin of the aesthetic of consumption identified by The Face as 'cappie' is the possession of cultural capital rather than economic capital, then it is both significantly different from the aesthetic of conspicuous consumption metonymically represented in the figure of the yuppie and considerably more interesting. The ubiquity of the yuppie subject in the Eighties can be read, as a number of scholars including Jane Feuer and Fredric Jameson have argued, as a representation of the embourgeoisment -- either practically or spectrally -- of the professional-managerial class as it grew in importance to the functioning of the US economy and its satellite nations. Jane Feuer, the American scholar of television and soap opera argues, for example, that 'yuppiedom' as it was manifest in the USA in the 1980s was ideologically and aesthetically elitist (Feuer 14), and combined "fiscal conservatism and relatively liberal social values" (44). Feuer equates the class identity of the young, urban, highly-remunerated and ambitious professional with the more general and more ambivalent 'professional-managerial class' of educated and managerial workers who nevertheless didn't own the means of production. "In a sense", says Feuer, only somewhat facetiously, "during the 1980s Marxist academics were yuppies who couldn't afford BMWs" (46). Feuer supports this assertion by arguing that during this period, the 'yuppie audience', as she designates the demographic segment who positively responded to their interpellation, and the professional-managerial class shared similar aesthetic and lifestyle values -- that is, they shared the same discriminators of taste and distinction, in the Bourdieuan sense. As a result, the rise of this new consuming subject, the cappie, which eschews the aesthetic codes of conspicuous consumption in favour of an aesthetic based on the possession and performance of accumulated knowledge, of cultural capital, suggests that it represents the aspirations and affectations of a significant class fraction outside existing class structures -- outside, because its aesthetic codes are based not upon economic capital, the determinant of last resort of class location within capitalist economies, but of embodied knowledge: of cultural capital. However, this is not to suggest that the cappie aesthetic is better or more democratic than an aesthetic based upon the conspicuous consumption of economic capital. There is enough scholarship that contributes to "the alliance between cultural studies, liberal multiculturalism and transnational capitalism", as the Marxist literary critic Terry Eagleton caustically puts it, without me contributing to this sorry corpus as well. For although the cappie does not depend upon economic capital for its ultima ratio, it is still, as an aesthetic practice, a regime of discrimination. As such, there are a number of possible future trajectories available to the cappie aesthetic, the selection of which will define retrospectively what it always was. Firstly, it is possible that the cappie is the latest in a long series of subordinate aesthetic practices -- that is, subcultures -- that exist below the dominant aesthetic practice of conspicuous economic consumption and which value forms of capital de-valued by the hegemonic aesthetic. In this way the cappie might take its place next to the beat poet, the mod, the punk and the raver, as an iconic representation of a (predominantly youth) subculture that defines itself against and in relation to the dominant aesthetic practice. It is also possible that the cappie might follow the same trajectory that the yuppie did. As Feuer argues, the yuppie began as an aesthetic practice that valued cultural capital at least as much as economic capital, but which, through its interpellation as the 'yuppie audience' of a significant fraction of the recently economically enfranchised professional-managerial class became, briefly, the hegemonic aesthetic practice in the US in the 1980s. There is also a third possibility, however, that I am most interested in: that the emergent cappie aesthetic, independent of but not unresponsive to existing aesthetic practices, is the subjective manifestation of ongoing changes in the mode of production in advanced capitalist economies from an industrial base to an informational one. There isn't the space here to argue the existence of this transformation, and so I shall instead direct the reader to the magisterial 3 volume work by the Spanish sociologist Manuel Castells, The Informational Age: Economy, Society and Culture. However, given the reality, in whatever form, of this gradual transformation from an industrial mode of production to one that is primarily informational, then it follows that the simultaneous product of and precondition for this transformation has been the ongoing commodification of knowledge, or more precisely, the "integration of knowledge into commodity production" (Frow 91). As a result of this transformation, the expertise and credentials possessed as cultural capital by the emerging knowledge class become more generally and reliably convertable into economic capital: cultural capital becomes a means of production. What the emergence of the cappie aesthetic is doing then is marking the coming to power of this particular class fraction through the conspicuous display of artefacts that signify not money but skill: knowledge. Furthermore, the cappie aesthetic signifies this emerging power of a knowledge class not qua economic enfranchisment, as the yuppie did, but on its own terms, through the reification of the form of capital -- cultural capital -- that is peculiar to itself. The cappie thus brings together the three forms of cultural capital, as the French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu has defined them, in the body of the 'cappie subject': institutionalised, in the form of educational qualifications, the certification of which is done by the university system through which this article is being circulated; objectified, in the cultural products of the cappie; and embodied "in the form of long-lasting dispositions of the mind and body" -- that is, as aesthetics (243). In particular, it is this embodiment, through aesthetics, of cultural capital that interests me about The Face's construction of the cappie. For this embodiment of certified knowledge and expertise manifest through its performance of deliberately obscure and shifting aesthetic registers implies a particular awareness of the self, one that is very similar to what Michel Foucault, in a somewhat different context, has called enkrateia. In The History of Sexuality, Volume 2: The Use of Pleasure, Foucault defines enkrateia as a combative relation of the self to the self, "a domination of the self by oneself and ... the effort that this demands" (65). Distinguishing enkrateia (translated into English as 'continent') from 'moderation' (sophrosyne), Foucault argues that the 'continent' self "experiences pleasures that are not in accord with reason, but [is] no longer ... carried away by them" (66). For Foucault, enkrateia is one of the "technologies of the self", those techniques which permit individuals to effect by their own means or with the help of others a certain number of operations on their own bodies and souls, thoughts, conduct, and way of being, so as to transform themselves. (Technologies of the Self, 18) That is, the subjective constitution of knowledge of the self as self-mastery is what gives the subject the ability -- and for Foucault, following classical Greek philosophers, the right -- to govern others. In this sense then -- and without wishing to diminish my own awkward interpellation by this aesthetic mode -- as a description of the popular consumption practice named by The Face as 'the cappie', (although I might wish to expand that acronym simply as 'the consumer of alternative products'), this notion of enkrateia -- power over others gained through knowledge of and power over the self -- pointedly locates the emerging class privilege and power enabled through and by this particular aesthetic practice. In a society in which the dominant form of capital is increasingly becoming information, and in which capital is increasingly regarded as information, the conspicuous display of exclusive forms of knowledge by the cappie aesthetic is not so much a reaction against capitalist consumption aesthetics as a recognition and performance of the rising social power and influence of the class fraction interpellated and addressed by this aesthetic practice. If aesthetic practices are distillations and embodiments of class aspirations and expectations -- and I hope I've argued that they are -- and if the aesthetic practice signified by The Face's 'cappie' is in fact markedly different from the practice of conspicuous consumption that came to be reviled, rightly, as 'yuppie' -- in as much as 'the cappie' disregards ostentatious displays of economic capital in favour of no less arrogant displays of embodied cultural capital -- then the cappie is the marker of the emergence of a new class formation. And although mapping the precise topography of this class fraction will consume the entirety of my doctorate, and even then not exhaustively, I can say that the 'knowledge class', identification of which is based upon possession of a necessary quantity of cultural capital -- that is, of education, aesthetic modes and inscribed competencies --, is both the result and engine of an emergent mode of production that is bringing about a transformation of apparatus of contemporary capitalism. And that this isn't necessarily a good thing. References Bourdieu, Pierre. "The Forms of Capital." Handbook for the Theory and Research for the Sociology of Education. Ed. John G. Richardson. New York: Greenwood, 1986. 241-58. Castells, Manuel. The Informational Age: Economy, Society and Culture. Vol 1-3. Malden, MA.: Blackwell Publishers, 1996-8. Eagleton, Terry. "In the Gaudy Supermarket." London Review of Books Online 21.10 (1999). 10 June 1999 <http://www.lrb.co.uk/v21/n10/eagl2110.htm>. "Shopping." The Face Mar. 1997: 24. Feuer, Jane. Seeing through the Eighties: Television and Reaganism. Durham: Duke UP, 1995. Foucault, Michel. The Care of the Self. The History of Sexuality vol. 3. Trans. Robert Hurley. New York: Pantheon Books, 1986. Frow, John. Cultural Studies and Cultural Value. Oxford: Clarendon P, 1995. Martin, Luther H., Huck Gutman, and Patrick H. Hutton, eds. Technologies of the Self: A Seminar with Michel Foucault. Amherst: U of Massachusetts P, 1988. Citation reference for this article MLA style: Sean Aylward Smith. "Ya Bloody Cappie!." M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 2.4 (1999). [your date of access] <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9906/cappie.php>. Chicago style: Sean Aylward Smith, "Ya Bloody Cappie!," M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 2, no. 4 (1999), <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9906/cappie.php> ([your date of access]). APA style: Sean Aylward Smith. (1999) Ya bloody cappie!. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 2(4). <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9906/cappie.php> ([your date of access]).

Fig. 1: Photo by Miguel Orós, from unsplash.comFeminism has stalled at the bedroom door. In the post-#metoo era, more than ever, we need intimate civil rights in our relationships to counter the worrisome prevailing trends: Intimate partner violence. Interpersonal abuse. Date rape. Sexual harassment. Online harassment. Bullying. Rage. Sexual Assault. Abusive relationships. Revenge porn. There’s a lot of damage done when we get up close and personal. In the 21st century, we have come far in terms of equality and respect between the genders, so there’s a lot to celebrate. We also note that the Australian government has stepped in recently with the theme ‘Keeping Australians safe and secure’, by pledging $78 million to combat domestic violence, much of which takes place behind closed doors (Morrison 2019). Herein lies the issue: while governments legislate to protect victims of domestic violence — out of the public eye, private behaviours cannot be closely monitored, and the lack of social enforcement of these laws threatens the safety of intimate relationships. Rather, individuals are left to their own devices. We outline here a guideline for intimate civility, an individually-embraced code of conduct that could guide interpersonal dynamics within the intimate space of relationships. Civility does not traditionally ‘belong’ in our most intimate relationships. Rather, it’s been presumed, even idealised, that intimacy in our personal lives transcends the need for public values to govern relationships between/among men and women (i.e., that romantic love is all you need). Civility developed as a public, gendered concept. Historically, a man’s home – and indeed, his partner – became his dominion, promoting hegemonic constructions of masculinity, and values that reflect competition, conquest, entitlement and ownership. Moreover, intimate relationships located in the private domain can also be considered for/by both men and women a retreat, a bastion against, or excluded from the controls and demands of the public or ‘polis’ - thus from the public requirement for civility, further enabling its breakdown. The feminist political theorist Carole Pateman situated this historical separation as an inheritance of Hegel’s double dilemma: first, a class division between civil society and the state (between the economic man/woman, or private enterprise and public power) and second, a patriarchal division between the private family (and intimate relationships) and civil society/the state. The private location, she argues, is “an association constituted by ties of love, blood … subjection and particularity” rather than the public sphere, “an association of free and equal individuals” (225). In Hegel’s dilemma, personal liberty is a dualism, only constructed in relation to a governed, public (patriarchal) state. Alternately, Carter depicts civility as a shared moral good, where civility arises not only because of concern over consequences, but also demonstrates our intrinsic moral obligation to respect people in general. This approach subsequently challenges our freedom to carry out private, uncivil acts within a truly civil society.Challenges to Gender EthicsHow can we respond to this challenge in gender ethics? Intimate civility is a term coined by Elizabeth Reid Boyd and Abigail Bray. It came out of their discussions proposing “a new poetics of romance” which called for rewritten codes of interpersonal conduct, an “entente cordiale; a cordial truce to end the sex wars”. Reid Boyd and Bray go further:Politeness is personal and political. We reclaim courtesy as applied sexual and social ethics, an interpersonal, intimate ethics, respectful and tolerant of difference. Gender ethics must be addressed, for they have global social and cultural ramifications that we should not underestimate. (xx)As researchers, we started to explore the idea of intimate civility in interpersonal violence, developing an analysis using social construction and attachment theory simultaneously. In defining the term, we soon realised the concept had wider applications that could change how we think about our most intimate relationships – and how we behave in them. Conceptualising intimate civility involves imagining rights and responsibilities within the private sphere, whether or not loving, familial and natural. Intimate civility can operate through an individually embraced code of conduct to guide interpersonal dynamics within the intimate space of relationships.Gringart, Grobbelaar, and Bender explored the concept of intimate civility by investigating women’s perspectives on what may harmonise their intimate relationships. Women’s most basic desires included safety, equality and respect in the bedroom. In other words, intimate civility is an enactment of human-rights, the embodiment of regard for another human being, insofar as it is a form of ensuring physical and mental integrity, life, safety and protection of all beings. Thus, if intimate civility existed as a core facet of each individual’s self-concept, the manifestation of intimate partner violence ideally would not occur. Rage, from an intimate civility perspective, rips through any civil response and generates misconduct towards another. When we hold respect for others as equal moral beings, civility is key to contain conflicts, which prevents the escalation of disagreements into rage. Intimate civility proposes that civility becomes the baseline behaviour that would be reciprocated between two individuals within the private domain of intimate relationships. Following this notion, intimate civility is the foremost casualty in many relationships characterised by intimate partner violence. The current criminalisation of intimate partner violence leaves unexplored the previously privatised property of the relational – including the inheritance of centuries of control of women’s bodies and sexuality – and how far, in this domain, notions of civility might liberate and/or oppress. The feminist philosopher Luce Irigaray argues that these kinds of ‘sexuate rights’ must apply to both men and women and the reality of their needs and desires. Equality, she argued, could not be achieved without a rewriting of the rights and obligations of each sex, qua different, in social rights and obligations (Yan).Synonyms for intimacy include, amongst others, closeness, attachment, togetherness, warmth, mutual affection, familiarity and privacy. Indirectly, sexual relations are also often synonymous with intimate relationships. However, sex is not intimacy, as both sex and intimacy both exist without the other. Bowlby proposed that throughout our lives we are attentive to the responsiveness and the availability of those that we are attached to, and suggested that “intimate attachments to other human beings are the hub around which a person’s life revolves, not only when he is an infant or a toddler, but throughout his adolescence and his years of maturity as well, and on into old age” (442). Although love is not by nature reciprocal, in intimacy we seek reciprocity – to love one another at the same time in a shared form of commitment. Kierkegaard hypothesised that genuine love is witnessed by one continuing to love another after their death as it obviates any doubt that the beloved was loved and was not merely instrumental (Soble).Intimate Civility as a Starting PointCivility includes qualities such as trust, duty, morality, sacrifice, self-restraint, respect, and fairness; a common standard allowing individuals to work, live and associate together. Intimacy encourages caring, loyalty, empathy, honesty, and self-knowledge. Thus, intimate civility should begin with those closest to us; being civil in our most intimate relationships. It advocates the genuine use of terms of endearment, not terms of abuse. We can only develop qualities such as morality and empathy, crucial for intimate relationships, if we have experienced secure, intimate relationships. Individuals reared in homes devoid of intimate civility will be challenged to identify and promote the interest or wellbeing of their intimate counterparts, and have to seek outside help to learn these skills: it is a learnt behaviour, both at an interpersonal and societal level. Individuals whose parents were insensitive to their childhood needs, and were unable to perceive, interpret and respond appropriately to their subtle communications, signals, wishes and mood will be flailing in this interpersonal skill (Holmes and Slade). Similarly, the individual’s inclusion in a civil society will only be achieved if their surrounding environment promotes and values virtues such as compassion, fairness and cooperation. This may be a challenging task. We envisage intimate civility as a starting point. It provides a focus to discuss and explore civil rights, obligations and responsibilities, between and among women and men in their personal relationships. As stated above, intimate civility begins with one's relationship with oneself and the closest relationships in the home, and hopefully reaches outwards to all kinds of relationships, including same sex, transgender, and other roles within non-specific gender assignment. Therefore, exploring the concept of intimate civility has applications in personal therapy, family counselling centres and relationship counselling environments, or schools in sexual education, or in universities promoting student safety. For example, the 2019 “Change the Course” report was recently released to augment Universities Australia’s 2016 campaign that raised awareness on sexual assault on campus. While it is still under development, we envision that intimate civility decalogue outlined here could become a checklist to assist in promoting awareness regarding abuse of power and gender roles. A recent example of cultural reframing of gender and power in intimate relationships is the Australian Government’s 2018 Respect campaign against gender violence. These recent campaigns promote awareness that intimate civility is integrated with a more functional society.These campaigns, as the images demonstrate, aim at quantifying connections between interactions on an intimate scale in individual lives, and their impacts in shaping civil society in the arena of gender violence. They highlight the elasticity of the bonds between intimate life and civil society and our collective responsibility as citizens for reworking both the gendered and personal civility. Fig. 2: Photo by Tyler Nix: Hands Spelling Out LOVE, from unsplash.comThe Decalogue of Intimate Civility Overall, police reports of domestic violence are heavily skewed towards male on female, but this is not always the case. The Australian government recently reported that “1 in 6 Australian women and 1 in 16 men have been subjected, since the age of 15, to physical and/or sexual violence by a current or previous cohabiting partner” (Australian Institutes of Health and Welfare). Rather than reiterating the numbers, we envisage the decalogue (below) as a checklist of concepts designed to discuss and explore rights, obligations and responsibilities, between and among both partners in their intimate relationships. As such, this decalogue forms a basis for conversation. Intimate civility involves a relationship with these ten qualities, with ourselves, and each other.1) Intimate civility is personal and political. Conceptualising intimate civility involves imagining rights and responsibilities within the private sphere. It is not an impingement on individual liberty or privacy but a guarantor of it. Civil society requires us not to defend private infringements of inter-personal respect. Private behaviours are both intimate in their performance and the springboard for social norms. In Geoffrey Rush’s recent defamation case his defence relied not on denying claims he repeatedly touched his fellow actor’s genitalia during their stage performance in a specific scene, despite her requests to him that he stop, but rather on how newspaper reporting of her statements made him out to be a “sexual pervert”, reflecting the complex link between this ‘private’ interaction between two people and its very public exposé (Wells). 2) Intimate civility is an enactment of a civil right, insofar as it is a form of ensuring physical and mental integrity, life, safety and protection. Intimate civility should begin with those closest to us. An example of this ethic at work is the widening scope of criminalisation of intimate partner abuse to include all forms of abusive interactions between people. Stalking and the pre-cursors to physical violence such as controlling behaviours, online bullying or any actions used to instil fear or insecurity in a partner, are accorded legal sanctions. 3) Intimate civility is polite. Politeness is more than manners. It relates to our public codes of conduct, to behaviours and laws befitting every civilian of the ‘polis’. It includes the many acts of politeness that are required behind closed doors and the recognition that this is the place from which public civility emerges. For example, the modern parent may hope that what they sanction as “polite” behaviour between siblings at home might then become generalised by the child into their public habits and later moral expectations as adults. In an ideal society, the micro-politics of family life become the blueprint for moral development for adult expectations about personal conduct in intimate and public life.4) Intimate civility is equitable. It follows Luce Irigaray’s call for ‘sexuate rights’ designed to apply to men and women and the reality of their needs and desires, in a rewriting of the social rights and obligations of each sex (Yan and Irigaray). Intimate civility extends this notion of rights to include all those involved in personal relations. This principle is alive within systemic family therapy which assumes that while not all members of the family system are always able to exert equal impacts or influence, they each in principle are interdependent participants influencing the system as a whole (Dallos and Draper). 5) Intimate civility is dialectical. The separation of intimacy and civility in Western society and thought is itself a dualism that rests upon other dualisms: public/private, constructed/natural, male/female, rational/emotional, civil/criminal, individual/social, victim/oppressor. Romantic love is not a natural state or concept, and does not help us to develop safe governance in the world of intimate relationships. Instead, we envisage intimate civility – and our relationships – as dynamic, dialectical, discursive and interactive, above and beyond dualism. Just as individuals do not assume that consent for sexual activity negotiated in one partnership under a set of particular conditions, is consent to sexual activity in all partnerships in any conditions. So, dialectics of intimate civility raises the expectation that what occurs in interpersonal relationships is worked out incrementally, between people over time and particular to their situation and experiences. 6) Intimate civility is humane. It can be situated in what Julia Kristeva refers to as the new humanism, emerging (and much needed) today. “This new humanism, interaction with others – all the others – socially marginalised, racially discriminated, politically, sexually, biologically or psychically persecuted others” (Kristeva, 2016: 64) is only possible if we immerse ourselves in the imaginary, in the experience of ‘the other’. Intimate civility takes on a global meaning when human rights action groups such as Amnesty International address the concerns of individuals to make a social difference. Such organisations develop globally-based digital platforms for interested individuals to become active about shared social concerns, understanding that the new humanism ethic works within and between individuals and can be harnessed for change.7) Intimate civility is empathic. It invites us to create not-yet-said, not-yet-imagined relationships. The creative space for intimate civility is not bound by gender, race or sexuality – only by our imaginations. “The great instrument of moral good is the imagination,” wrote the poet Shelley in 1840. Moral imagination (Reid Boyd) helps us to create better ways of being. It is a form of empathy that encourages us to be kinder and more loving to ourselves and each other, when we imagine how others might feel. The use of empathic imagination for real world relational benefits is common in traditional therapeutic practices, such as mindfulness, that encourages those struggling with self compassion to imagine the presence of a kind friend or ally to support them at times of hardship. 8) Intimate civility is respectful. Intimate civility is the foremost casualty in many relationships characterised by forms of abuse and intimate partner violence. “Respect”, wrote Simone Weil, “is due to the human being as such, and is not a matter of degree” (171). In the intimate civility ethic this quality of respect accorded as a right of beings is mutual, including ourselves with the other. When respect is eroded, much is lost. Respect arises from empathy through attuned listening. The RESPECT! Campaign originating from the Futures without Violence organisation assumes healthy relationships begin with listening between people. They promote the understanding that the core foundation of human wellbeing is relational, requiring inter-personal understanding and respect.9) Intimate civility is a form of highest regard. When we regard another we truly see them. To hold someone in high regard is to esteem them, to hold them above others, not putting them on a pedestal, or insisting they are superior, but to value them for who they are. To be esteemed for our interior, for our character, rather than what we display or what we own. It connects with the humanistic psychological concept of unconditional positive regard. The highest regard holds each other in arms and in mind. It is to see/look at, to have consideration for, and to pay attention to, recently epitomised by the campaign against human trafficking, “Can You See Me?” (Human Trafficking), whose purpose is to foster public awareness of the non-verbal signs and signals between individuals that indicate human trafficking may be taking place. In essence, teaching communal awareness towards the victimisation of individuals. 10) Intimate civility is intergenerational. We can only develop qualities such as morality and empathy, crucial for intimate relationships, if we have experienced (or imagined) intimate relationships where these qualities exist. Individuals reared in homes devoid of intimate civility could be challenged to identify and promote the interest or wellbeing of their intimate counterparts; it is a learnt behaviour, both at an interpersonal and societal level. Childhood developmental trauma research (Spinazzola and Ford) reminds us that the interaction of experiences, relational interactions, contexts and even our genetic amkeup makes individuals both vulnerable to repeating the behaviour of past generations. However, treatment of the condition and surrounding individuals with people in their intimate world who have different life experiences and personal histories, i.e., those who have acquired respectful relationship habits, can have a positive impact on the individuals’ capacity to change their learned negative behaviours. In conclusion, the work on intimate civility as a potential concept to alleviate rage in human relationships has hardly begun. The decalogue provides a checklist that indicates the necessity of ‘intersectionality’ — where the concepts of intimate civility connect to many points within the public/private and personal/political domains. Any analysis of intimacy must reach further than prepositions tied to social construction and attachment theory (Fonagy), to include current understandings of trauma and inter-generational violence and the way these influence people’s ability to act in healthy and balanced interpersonal relationships. While not condoning violent acts, locating the challenges to intimate civility on both personal and societal levels may leverage a compassionate view of those caught up in interpersonal violence. The human condition demands that we continue the struggle to meet the challenges of intimate civility in our personal actions with others as well as the need to replicate civil behaviour throughout all societies. ReferencesBowlby, John. Attachment and Loss. Vol. 3. New York: Basic Books, 1980.Carter, Stephen. Civility: Manners, Morals and the Etiquette of Democracy. New York: Basic Books, 1998.Dallos, Rudi, and Ros Draper. An Introduction to Family Therapy: Systemic Theory and Practice. 2nd ed. Open University Press: Berkshire, 2005.Australian Institutes of Health and Welfare, Australian Government. Family, Domestic and Sexual Violence in Australia. 2018. 6 Feb. 2019 <https://www.aihw.gov.au/reports/domestic-violence/family-domestic-sexual-violence-in-australia-2018/contents/summary>. Fonagy, Peter. Attachment Theory and Psychoanalysis. New York: Other Press, 2001.Gringart, Eyal, Madalena Grobbelaar, and Alise Bender. Intimate Civility: The Perceptions and Experiences of Women on Harmonising Intimate Relationships. Honours thesis, 2018.Holmes, Jeremy, and Arietta Slade. Attachment in Therapeutic Practice. Los Angeles: Sage, 2018. Human Trafficking, Jan. 2019. 14 Feb. 2019 <https://www.a21.org/content/can-you-see-me/gnsqqg?permcode=gnsqqg&site=true>.Kristeva, Julia. Teresa My Love: An Imagined Life of the Saint of Avila. New York: Columbia UP, 2016.Morrison, Scott. “National Press Club Address.” 11 Feb. 2019. 26 Feb. 2019 <https://www.pm.gov.au/media/national-press-club-address-our-plan-keeping-australians-safe-and-secure>.Pateman, Carole. “The Patriarchal Welfare State.” Defining Women: Social Institutions and Gender Divisions. Eds. Linda McDowell and Rosemary Pringle. London: Polity Press, 1994. 223-45.Reid Boyd, Elizabeth. “How Creativity Can Help Us Cultivate Moral Imagination.” The Conversation, 30 Jan. 2019. 11 Feb. 2019 <http://theconversation.com/how-creativity-can-help-us-cultivate-moral-imagination-101968>.Reid Boyd, Elizabeth, and Abigail Bray. Ladies and Gentlemen: Sex, Love and 21st Century Courtesy. Unpublished book proposal, 2005.Commonwealth of Australia. Respect Campaign. 2018, 9 Jan. 2019 <http://www.respect.gov.au/the-campaign/campaign-materials/>.Shelley, Percy Bysshe. A Defence of Poetry. London: Ginn and Company, 1840.Soble, Alan. Philosophy of Sex and Love. St Paul, MN: Paragon House, 1998.Weil, Simone. Waiting on God. London: Fontana Collins, 1968.Wells, Jamelle. “Geoffrey Rush, Erin Norvill and the Daily Telegraph: The Stakes Are High in This Defamation Trial.” ABC News 12 Nov. 2018. 23 Feb. 2019 <http://www.abc.net.au/news/2018-11-10/geoffrey-rush-defamation-trial-a-drama-with-final-act-to-come/10483944>.Yan, Liu, and Luce Irigaray. “Feminism, Sexuate Rights and the Ethics of Sexual Difference: An Interview with Luce Irigaray.” Foreign Literature Studies (2010): 1-9.

Thesis (M.S.)--Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Dept. of Urban Studies and Planning, 1986.
MICROFICHE COPY AVAILABLE IN ARCHIVES AND ROTCH.
Bibliography: leaves 111-113.
by Doreen Dorothea Schmelz.
M.S.

I have been reading about the Lenape. It started as a kind of penance. Every day I pick up the newspaper and learn about different ethnic peoples who have been driven from their homeland by some other ethnic peoples or have been simply exterminated in place, a more lasting way of getting rid of them. One morning, while eating oatmeal and skimming over the news of the latest genocide in The New York Times, a thought occurred to me: Aren’t I lucky that this isn’t happening in New Jersey? Not that it couldn’t, but at the moment it seems quite unlikely. Why not? I wondered. Is it our democratic government that protects us? Our melting pot society? Then another answer came to mind. New Jersey has had its ethnic cleansing already, a very comprehensive one—the destruction of the Lenape. As a child I was taught in school about the Lenni Lenape Indians, who once lived in New Jersey and then didn’t. The teaching never went much farther than that; it was pretty superficial compared with what my children learned about Indians (but not about the Lenni Lenape) in elementary school. So I decided to remedy the defect in my education and bought the only book about the Lenni Lenape I could find, a scholarly paperback by Herbert C. Kraft called The Lenape: Archaeology, History, and Ethnography. I bought it out of guilt—as I said, a penance. Not guilt for what was done to the native people of New Jersey, which wasn’t my fault or even the fault of my ancestors, who arrived in America in the late nineteenth century, themselves victims of persecution. The guilt was be-cause of a feeling that to live in the New Jersey–New York–eastern Pennsylvania region—that is, Lenapehoking—without knowing anything about its prior residents was disrespectful; it was a dishonoring, even an obliteration of their memory. Because of its penitential and scholarly nature, I expected my reading to be dull; surprisingly, the book turned out to be fascinating.

This chapter assesses the overwhelming task of building up Coast Guard security operations after the 9/11 attacks. A decade and a half later, the new captain of the port, Captain Michael Day said that the current culture of vigilance combined with an even stronger “unity of purpose and effort” than that which he extolled in 2001 have created a far safer port. Today's security systems are much more integrated across agencies than they were before. These important, although somewhat intangible, differences between then and now have also been reinforced by the very tangible reality of infrastructure. The Port of New York and New Jersey has received what Day called the “enabling mechanism of fairly robust port security grants.” Not only does the Coast Guard have better tools and equipment, it also has better systems in place for addressing security issues with a multiagency approach. And now, for the first time, there is an actual maritime evacuation plan.

This chapter recounts how, on September 13 at 8 a.m., the Coast Guard reopened the Port of New York and New Jersey, with significant restrictions in place. Commercial and vessel movements required Coast Guard approval. Vessels were subject to Coast Guard boarding and inspection. Meanwhile, large vessels were subject to further restrictions, including mandated advanced notice of arrival; provision of certified crew lists, including nationality; and other constraints. Anchorages remained closed, and commercial port traffic in general was significantly constricted under these new rules. Similar issues confronted land-based traffic as the Port Authority reopened area bridges and tunnels, as well as the bus terminal on that Thursday. Two days of bridge, tunnel, and road closures into Manhattan led to widespread disruption of commercial deliveries of all sorts. The chapter then considers the stories of the mariners who continued finding ways to offer their services after the waterborne evacuation.

This chapter recounts how, in the face of the massive incident of 9/11, the shared purpose and common ties that connect mariners of all types ruled the day as the different agencies cooperated with civilian boat crews. As it turned out, the lack of a plan wound up setting the stage for creative problem solving and improvisation. Throughout that historic morning, the New York harbor community joined forces to carry out an unprecedented and remarkably successful evacuation effort. As the second attack hit, the U.S. Coast Guard shut down the Port of New York and New Jersey to commercial traffic. Other maritime forces, such as the marine fire company, were also kicked into action.

On September 11, 2001, the terrorist attacks that destroyed the World Trade Center (WTC) in Lower Manhattan, New York City, also damaged the Port Authority Trans-Hudson Corp.’s (PATH’s) busiest terminal serving the heart of the thriving downtown financial, commercial, and residential district. The aftermath of the attacks also forced the closure of PATH’s key station at Exchange Place that serves Jersey City, New Jersey’s expanding “Gold Coast” business and residential area. PATH’s more than 260,000 average weekday commuters between New Jersey and New York were affected in some way by these tragic events, and PATH ridership fell sharply during the following months. Among the PATH facilities that were damaged or destroyed at WTC, and in the two Hudson River tubes, and at Exchange Place Station were all of the electrical, power, signal, and communications systems. Recovery and restoration work began immediately, but was hampered by the extensive rescue, recovery, removal, and demolition work at the World Trade site. Broken water lines and fire fighting efforts flooded both river tubes, which were later sealed at Exchange Place to prevent additional potential damage to PATH’s New Jersey facilities. This paper describes PATH’s recovery program to replace the electrical, power, signal, and communications facilities from Exchange Place to the WTC Terminal. A temporary WTC terminal has been built to restore direct service to Lower Manhattan’s financial, business, and residential center as of November 23, 2003. As part of this program, new trackwork was installed to enhance operational flexibility and provide temporary interim service to Exchange Place Station, which reopened June 29, 2003. Capacity expansion provisions were included to allow for future 10-car train operations when a new rail car fleet is procured. Facilities replaced include a new traction power and auxiliary services substation, new cables, ductbanks, new signals and central control system, wayside phones, emergency power removal switches, tunnel lighting, radio antenna, and fiber optics. An accelerated design and construction schedule was followed, using a broad combination of in-house, consulting, and contractor forces.

<p>The Port Authority of New York and New Jersey has completed the replacement of the congested and functionally obsolete Goethals Bridge, a circa 1928 steel cantilever truss bridge, with a dual-span modern cable-stayed bridge connecting Elizabeth, New Jersey and Staten Island, NY. Designed as a 150 year service life structure, the newly opened crossing paves the way towards achieving the possibility of a 200 year bridge, both in material durability, structural redundancy / resilience, and modal flexibility.</p><p>The new crossing features three eastbound and three westbound lanes plus a 3 m wide shared use path (SUP) for bicycles and pedestrians. To accommodate future expansion, the superstructure of the cable stayed spans is designed to receive steel framing to support a variety of possible transit options including light rail, while the substructure need not be strengthened for this future load. With a 274 m main span, the new crossing provides a significant maritime navigational improvement over the original 205 m steel truss span.</p><p>Herein we focus on the strategic application of corrosion protection strategies to achieve the long service life in a competitive bid environment, structural benefit of the design as relates to resiliency, modal flexibility, and operational redundancy to withstand extreme events.</p>