Academic literature on the topic 'Northwest Mining Association (U.S.)'

Cellulose is the main raw material for the production of paper. Companies that produce it present in their production line the cutting of the cellulose sheet. This failure is sporadic and has a high economic impact since it paralyzes the production line for several hours, incurring unproductive hours and a large deployment of human and financial resources. In this research, the use of Data Mining is proposed to define a machine learning algorithm that allows predicting the cutting of the cellulose sheet in a production line of a cellulose plant in Chile. The results show that by applying this technique it is possible to predict the cutting of the cellulose sheet well in advance to take corrective actions to avoid cutting and thus minimize the economic impact associated with the failure.
 Keywords: Data Mining, machine learning, cellulose, productivity.
 References
 [1]B. Ranaganth y G. Viswanath, «Application of artificial neural network for optimizing cutting variables in laser cutting of 304 grade stainless steel,» International Journal of Applied Engineering and Technology, vol. 1, nº 1, pp. 106-112, 2011.
 [2]M. Durica, J. Frnda y L. Svabova, «Decision tree based model of business failure prediction for Polish companies,» Oeconomia Copernicana, vol. 10, nº 3, pp. 453-469, 2019.
 [3]G. Köksal, İ. Batmaz y M. C. Testik, «A review of data mining applications for quality improvement in manufacturing industry,» Expert systems with Applications, vol. 38, nº 10, pp. 13448-13467, 2011.
 [4]H. Poblete y R. Vargas, «Relacion entre densidad y propiedades de tableros HDF producidos por un proceso seco,» Maderas. Ciencia y tecnología, vol. 8, nº 3, pp. 169-182, 2006.
 [5]B. Kovalerchuk y E. Vityaev, «Data mining for financial applications,» Data Mining and Knowledge Discovery Handbook, pp. 1203-1224, 2005.
 [6]U. Fayyad, G. Piatetsky-Shapiro, P. Smyth y R. Uthurusamy, «Advances in knowledge discovery and data mining,» American Association for Artificial Intelligence, 1996.
 [7]A. K. Pandey y A. K. Dubey, «Neuro fuzzy modeling of laser beam cutting process,» Applied Mechanics and Materials, vol. 110, pp. 4109-4117, 2012.
 [8]M. Németh y G. Michaľčonok, «Preparation and cluster analysis of data from the industrial production process for failure prediction,» Research Papers Faculty of Materials Science and Technology Slovak University of Technology, vol. 24, nº 39, pp. 111-116, 2016.
 [9]S. Ballı, «A data mining approach to the diagnosis of failure modes for two serial fastened sandwich composite plates,» Journal of Composite Materials, vol. 51, nº 20, pp. 2853-2862, 2017.
 [10]S. Dindarloo y E. Siami-Irdemoosa, «Data mining in mining engineering: results of classification and clustering of shovels failures data,» International Journal of Mining, Reclamation and Environment, vol. 31, nº 2, pp. 105-118, 2017.
 [11]E. e Oliveira, V. Miguéis, L. Guimarães y J. L. Borges, «Power Transformer Failure Prediction: Classification in Imbalanced Time Series,» U. Porto Journal of Engineering, vol. 3, nº 2, pp. 34-48, 2017.
 [12]A. Taghizadeh y N. Demirel, «Application of Machine Learning for Dragline Failure Prediction,» E3S Web of Conferences, vol. 15, p. 03002, 2017.
 [13]W. Chang, Z. Xu, M. You, S. Zhou, Y. Xiao y Y. Cheng, «A Bayesian Failure Prediction Network Based on Text Sequence Mining and Clustering,» Entropy, vol. 20, nº 12, p. 923, 2018.
 [14]K. Halteh, K. Kumar y A. Gepp, «Financial distress prediction of Islamic banks using tree-based stochastic techniques,» Managerial Finance, vol. 44, nº 6, pp. 759-773, 2018.
 [15]C.-H. Liu, C.-J. Lin, Y.-H. Hu y Z.-H. You, «Predicting the failure of dental implants using supervised learning techniques,» Applied Sciences, vol. 8, nº 5, p. 698, 2018.
 [16]B. Mohammed, I. Awan, H. Ugail y M. Younas, «Failure prediction using machine learning in a virtualised HPC system and application,» Cluster Computing, vol. 22, nº 2, pp. 471-485, 2019.
 [17]O. Sukhbaatar, T. Usagawa y L. Choimaa, «An artificial neural network based early prediction of failure-prone students in blended learning course,» International Journal of Emerging Technologies in Learning (iJET)}, vol. 14, nº 19, pp. 77-92, 2019.
 [18]Z. Wang, W. Zhao y X. Hu, «Analysis of prediction model of failure depth of mine floor based on fuzzy neural network,» Geotechnical and Geological Engineering, vol. 37, nº 1, pp. 71-76, 2019.
 [19]V. S. Gujre y R. Anand, «Machine learning algorithms for failure prediction and yield improvement during electric resistance welded tube manufacturing,» Journal of Experimental \& Theoretical Artificial Intelligence, vol. 32, nº 4, pp. 601-622, 2020.
 [20]P. du Jardin, «Forecasting corporate failure using ensemble of self-organizing neural networks,» European Journal of Operational Research, vol. 288, nº 3, pp. 869-885, 2021.
 [21]R. Brachman y T. Anand, «The process of knowledge discovery in databases,» Advances in knowledge discovery and data mining, pp. 37-57, 1996.
 [22]W. Frawley, G. Piatetsky-Shapiro y C. Matheus, «Knowledge discovery in databases: An overview,» AI magazine, vol. 13, nº 3, p. 57, 1992.
 [23]F. H. Troncoso Espinosa y J. V. Ruiz Tapia, «Predicción de fuga de clientes en una empresa de distribución de gas natural mediante el uso de minería de datos,» Universidad Ciencia y Tecnología, vol. 24, nº 106, pp. 79-87, 2020.
 [24]F. H. Troncoso, «Prediction of Recidivism in Thefts and Burglaries Using Machine Learning,» Indian Journal of Science and Technology, vol. 13, nº 6, pp. 696-711, March 2020.
 [25]M. Kantardzic, Data mining: concepts, models, methods, and algorithms, John Wiley & Sons, 2011.
 [26]F. H. Troncoso Espinosa, P. G. Fuentes Figueroa y I. R. Belmar Arriagada, «Predicción de fraudes en el consumo de agua potable mediante el uso de Minería de Datos,» Universidad Ciencia y Tecnología, vol. 24, nº 104, pp. 58-66, 2020.
 [27]C. Romero y S. Ventura, «Data mining in education,» Wiley Interdisciplinary Reviews: Data Mining and Knowledge Discovery, vol. 3, nº 1, pp. 12-27, 2013.
 [28]D. Larose y C. Larose, Discovering knowledge in data: an introduction to data mining, John Wiley & Sons, 2014.

Abstract The 300-km-long Redstone copper belt in the Mackenzie Mountains, Northwest Territories, Canada, is composed of a series of sediment-hosted stratiform copper (SSC) deposits hosted in Neoproterozoic fault-bounded intracontinental rift basins. Mineralization at Coates Lake, the largest of these deposits, is concentrated within microbial laminite layers in the transition zone between underlying continental red beds of the Redstone River Formation and overlying marine carbonates of the Coppercap Formation. Disseminated cupriferous sulfides (chalcopyrite, bornite, and chalcocite) form part of a late diagenetic mineral association with dolomite, K-feldspar, albite, quartz, monazite, apatite, and pyrite that partially replaced detrital and early diagenetic minerals, including calcite cements, sulfate, and earlier generations of pyrite. Bornite (± minor chalcopyrite), calcite, dolomite, quartz, K-feldspar, and albite were also deposited in rare bedding-parallel veins adjacent to the lowermost mineralized microbial laminite layer in the transition zone. The absolute timing of mineralization was constrained by in situ U-Th-Pb chemical dating of monazite from four samples hosting disseminated SSC-type mineralization. The monazite have rounded, Th-U-heavy rare earth element-rich, detrital cores surrounded by Th-U-poor, light rare earth element-S-Sr-rich rims. The rim stage of monazite growth is intergrown with and enveloped by cupriferous sulfide and is paragenetically constrained as being part of the disseminated SSC-type mineralizing event. Eleven detrital cores yielded dates between 1843 and 1025 Ma, older than the depositional age of transition zone strata previously constrained to be between 775 and 732 Ma. Ten monazite rims yielded dates between 661 and 607 Ma. A weighted average date of 635 ± 13 Ma provides a maximum estimate, and is our preferred interpretation, for the absolute age of all copper mineralization at the Coates Lake deposit. Mineralization formed approximately 100 m.y. after deposition of the host rocks, during the thermal sag phase of continental rifting. Stratigraphic reconstructions, coupled with estimates of sediment compaction, indicate that at 635 Ma the transition zone was buried by ~4 km of sediments and overlaid another ~1.7 km of sediments that formed the Redstone River and Thundercloud Formations. Mudstone and carbonate-rich units above the transition zone acted as low permeability caps that led to suprahydrostatic fluid pressures in the underlying sediments. The bedding-parallel veins indicate transient supralithostatic fluid pressures. Free convection of pore fluids began within the transition zone and underlying units once they became hydrologically isolated from overlying strata. Mineralization formed as oxidized saline pore fluids circulated through the red beds (± underlying basaltic flows and basal sedimentary detritus), stripping copper and carrying it up into the transition zone. The salinity of the pore fluids may have, at least in part, originated from cryogenic brines generated by the Sturtian (717–662 Ma) global glaciation event.

Abstract. In the XIX century when Mexico City was much smaller than at present, there was non-regulated mining of building materials in a region of tuffs northwest of the city in an inhabited countryside. With the growth of the city during the XX century, this region was increasingly populated and in the 1970's many two-level bricks houses were built, without regard for underground caves created by the earlier extractions. Some ground sinkings in adjacent areas alarmed the residents who now are worried about this permanent hazard. An association of residents contracted a private company for a geophysical study in order to know the distribution of the caves. Resistivity measurements were taken in the area to detect the caves in order to alert city authorities. Resistivity data along most of the streets were collected with the array pole-dipole that consisted of three grounded electrodes. We performed 2-D dimensional inversions to the data in order to get a 2-D resistivity image of every street. This is similar to a resistivity cross-section of the ground but obtained from the inversion of pole-dipole and Schlumberger resistivity data simultaneously. Using the information of previous drills we modified our programming code in order to perform constrained inversion and to get more accurate resistivity models in agreement with the drills. From the resistivity models obtained for every street it was possible to produce a map which shows the horizontal distribution of the resistive bodies at a depth of 12m. These resistive bodies show coherent alignments that seem to correspond with a distributions of interconnected caves or tunnels used for extracting the sandy-tuffs. From these kind of interpretation method it was intended to get a more accurate horizontal distribution of the excavated areas in order to better know the urbanized area affected and lead the authorities to remedy the area with refill material.

- Jet Bakels, Robert Layton, The anthropology of art. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991, 258 pp. - J.M.S. Baljon, Herman Leonard Beck, De Islam in Nederland: Romancing religion? [Inaugurele rede theologische faculteit Tilburg 14.2.1992.] Tilburg: Tilburg University Press 1992. - R.H. Barnes, J.D.M. Platenkamp, North Halmahera: Non-Austronesian Languages, Austronesian cultures?, Lecture presented to the Oosters Genootschap in Nederland at Leiden on 23 May 1989, Leiden: Oosters Genootschap in Nederland, 1990. 33 pp. - Hans Borkent, Directory of Southeast Asianists in the Pacific Northwest. Compiled by: Northwest Regional Consortium for Southeast Asian Studies. Seattle, WA: University of Washington [et al.], 1990. 108 pp. - Roy Ellen, Frans Hüsken, Cognation and social organization in Southeast Asia. Verhandelingen van het Koninklijk Instituut voor Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde 145. Leiden: KITLV Press, 1991, 221 pp. figs. tables, index., Jeremy Kemp (eds.) - C. de Jonge, Huub J.W.M. Boelaars, Indonesianisasi. Het omvormingsproces van de katholieke kerk in Indonesië tot de Indonesische katholieke kerk, Kerk en Theologie in Context, 13, Kampen: Kok, 1991, ix + 472 pp. - Nico de Jonge, Gregory Forth, Space and place in eastern Indonesia, University of Kent at Canterbury, Centre of South-east Asian Studies (Occasional Paper no. 16) 1991. 85 pp., ills. - J. Kommers, Bernard Juillerat, Oedipe chasseur. Une mythologie du sujet en Nouvelle-Guinée, P.U.F., Le fil rouge, section 1 Psychanalyse. Paris, 1991. - Gerco Kroes, Signe Howell, Society and cosmos, the Chewong of Peninsular Malaysia, University of Chicago Press, 1989, xv + 294 pp. - Daniel S. Lev, S. Pompe, Indonesian Law 1949-1989: A bibliography of foreign-language materials with brief commentaries on the law, Van Vollenhoven Institute for Law and Administration in Non-Western Countries. Nijhoff, 1992. - A. M. Luyendijk-Elshout, H. den Hertog, De militair geneeskundige verzorging in Atjeh, 1873-1904. Amsterdam, Thesis Publishers, 1991. - G.E. Marrison, Wolfgang Marschall, The Rejang of South Sumatra. Hull: Centre for South-east Asian Studies, 1992, iii + 93 pp., ill. (Occasional Papers no. 19: special issue)., Michele Galizia, Thomas M. Psota (eds.) - Harry A. Poeze, Marijke Barend-van Haeften, Oost-Indie gespiegeld; Nicolaas de Graaff, een schrijvend chirurgijn in dienst van de VOC. Zutphen: Walburg Pers, 1992, 279 pp. - Ratna Saptari, H. Claessen, Het kweekbed ontkiemd; Opstellen aangeboden aan Els Postel. Leiden: VENA, Faculty of Social Sciences, University of Leiden, P.O. Box 9555, 2300 RA., M. van den Engel, D. Plantenga (eds.) - Jerome Rousseau, James J. Fox, The heritage of traditional agriculture among the western Austronesians. Occasional paper of the department of Anthropology. Comparitive Austronesian Project. Research school of Pacific studies. Australian National University, Canberra, Australia, 1992. 89 pp. - Oscar Salemink, Gehan Wijeyewardene, Ethnic groups acrss National boundaries in mainland Southeast Asia. Singapore 1990, Institute of Southeast Asian studies (Social issues in Southeast Asia series). x + 192 pp. - Henk Schulte Nordholt, U. Wikan, Managing turbulent hearts. A Balinese formula for living, Chicago: University of Chicago Press. 1990, xxvi + 343 pp. photos. - Mary Somers Heidhues, Claudine Salmon, Le moment ‘sino-malais’ de la litterature indonesienne. [Cahier d’Archipel 19.] Paris: Association Archipel, 1992. - Heather Sutherland, J.N.F.M. à Campo, Koninklijke Paketvaart Maatschappij; Stoomvaart en staatsvorming in de Indonesische archipel 1888-1914, Hilversum: Verloren, (Erasmus Universiteit Rotterdam, Publikaties van de Faculteit der Historische en Kunstwetenschappen III), 1992, 756 pp., tables, graphics, photographs. - Gerard Termorshuizen, Robin W. Winks, Asia in Western fiction. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1990. x + 229 pp., James R. Rush (eds.) - John Verhaar, Lourens de Vries, The morphology of Wambon of the Irian Jaya Upper-Digul area. Leiden: KITLV Press, 1992, xiv + 98 pp., Robinia de Vries-Wiersma (eds.) - Maria van Yperen, Cornelia N. Moore, Translation East and West: A cross-cultural approach, Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. xxv + 259 pp., Lucy Lower (eds.) - Harvey Whitehouse, Klaus Neumann, Not the way it really was: constructing the Tolai past. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1992.

The Araçuaí Fold Belt was defined as the southeastern limit of the São Francisco Craton in the classicalpaper published by Fernando Flávio Marques de Almeida in 1977. This keystone of the Brazilian geologicliterature catalyzed important discoveries, such as of Neoproterozoic ophiolites and a calc-alkaline magmaticarc, related to the Araçuaí Belt and paleotectonic correlations with its counterpart located in Africa (the WestCongo Belt), that provided solid basis to define the Araçuaí-West-Congo Orogen by the end of the 1990thdecade. After the opening of the Atlantic Ocean in Cretaceous times, two thirds of the Araçuaí-West-CongoOrogen remained in the Brazil side, including records of the continental rift and passive margin phases ofthe precursor basin, all ophiolite slivers and the whole orogenic magmatism formed from the pre-collisionalto post-collisional stages. Thus, the name Araçuaí Orogen has been applied to the Neoproterozoic-Cambrianorogenic region that extends from the southeastern edge of the São Francisco Craton to the Atlantic coastlineand is roughly limited between the 15º and 21º S parallels. After 30 years of systematic geological mappingtogether with geochemical and geochronological studies published by many authors, all evolutionary stagesof the Araçuaí Orogen can be reasonably interpreted. Despite the regional metamorfism and deformation, thefollowing descriptions generally refer to protoliths. All mentioned ages were obtained by U-Pb method onzircon. The Macaúbas Group records rift, passive margin and oceanic environments of the precursor basinof the Araçuaí Orogen. From the base to the top and from proximal to distal units, this group comprises thepre-glacial Duas Barras and Rio Peixe Bravo formations, and the glaciogenic Serra do Catuni, Nova Auroraand Lower Chapada Acauã formations, related to continental rift and transitional stages, and the diamictitefreeUpper Chapada Acauã and Ribeirão da Folha formations, representing passive margin and oceanicenvironments. Dates of detrital zircon grains from Duas Barras sandstones and Serra do Catuni diamictitessuggest a maximum sedimentation age around 900 Ma for the lower Macaúbas Group, in agreement withages yielded by the Pedro Lessa mafic dikes (906 ± 2 Ma) and anorogenic granites of Salto da Divisa (875 ±9 Ma). The thick diamictite-bearing marine successions with sand-rich turbidites, diamictitic iron formation,mafic volcanic rocks and pelites (Nova Aurora and Lower Chapada Acauã formations) were depositedfrom the rift to transitional stages. The Upper Chapada Acauã Formation consists of a sand-pelite shelfsuccession, deposited after ca. 864 Ma ago in the proximal passive margin. The Ribeirão da Folha Formationmainly consists of sand-pelite turbidites, pelagic pelites, sulfide-bearing cherts and banded iron formations,representing distal passive margin to oceanic sedimentation. Gabbro and dolerite with plagiogranite veinsdated at ca. 660 Ma, and ultramafic rocks form tectonic slices of oceanic lithosphere thrust onto packagesof the Ribeirão da Folha Formation. The pre-collisional, calc-alkaline, continental magmatic arc (G1 Suite,630-585 Ma) consists of tonalites and granodiorites, with minor diorite and gabbro. A volcano-sedimentarysuccession of this magmatic arc includes pyroclastic and volcaniclastic rocks of dacitic composition datedat ca. 585 Ma, ascribed to the Palmital do Sul and Tumiritinga formations (Rio Doce Group), depositedfrom intra-arc to fore-arc settings. Detrital zircon geochronology suggests that the São Tomé wackes (RioDoce Group) represent intra-arc to back-arc sedimentation after ca. 594 Ma ago. The Salinas Formation, aconglomerate-wacke-pelite association located to northwest of the magmatic arc, represents synorogenicsedimentation younger than ca. 588 Ma. A huge zone of syn-collisional S-type granites (G2 Suite, 582-560Ma) occurs to the east and north of the pre-collisional magmatic arc, northward of latitude 20º S. Partialmelting of G2 granites originated peraluminous leucogranites (G3 Suite) from the late- to post-collisionalstages. A set of late structures, and the post-collisional intrusions of the S-type G4 Suite (535-500 Ma) andI-type G5 Suite (520-490 Ma) are related to the gravitational collapse of the orogen. The location of themagmatic arc, roughly parallel to the zone with ophiolite slivers, from the 17º30’ S latitude southwardssuggests that oceanic crust only developed along the southern segment of the precursor basin of the Araçuaí-West-Congo Orogen. This basin was carved, like a large gulf partially floored by oceanic crust, into the SãoFrancisco-Congo Paleocontinent, but paleogeographic reconstructions show that the Bahia-Gabon cratonicbridge (located to the north of the Araçuaí Orogen) subsisted since at least 1 Ga until the Atlantic opening.This uncommon geotectonic scenario inspired the concept of confined orogen, quoted as a new type ofcollisional orogen in the international literature, and the appealing nutcracker tectonic model to explain theAraçuaí-West-Congo Orogen evolution.

Representation of Aboriginality in National Geographic In trafficking images of cultural difference, National Geographic has an unrivalled worldwide reach to over 37 million people per issue. Over the past 25 years, 48 photographs of Aboriginal Australians have appeared in 11 articles in the magazine. This article first examines how the magazine has exoticised, naturalised and sexualised Aboriginal Australians. By deploying the standard evolutionary model, National Geographic typically represents Aboriginal Australians as Black savages relegated to the Stone Age. In the remote outback "Arnhem Land Aboriginals Cling to the Dreamtime" (Scollay & Tweedie 645). In "Journey into Dreamtime" (Arden & Abell 8) an Aboriginal man is "triumphant with his kill of a wild turkey [and] leads a small group of Aborigines who have returned to some of the old ways of their nomadic ancestors in the Great Sandy Desert". The article concludes that the Stone Age encounter with modernity depicted in the magazine became a journey through time from location past to location present. Exoticisation The world of the Aboriginal Australians is male through the eyes of National Geographic. This stems from the Western cultural pattern that assigns things masculine to the cultural and things feminine to the natural realm (Ortner). The male Aboriginal performer of an initiation ritual in "Leapingin tribute" (Scollay & Tweedie 656-7) is represented as rooted in tradition and living in a sacred yet superstitious world. Portraits abound of men with painted faces, as in "Surging energy" (Scollay & Tweedie 648). Male finery and self-display become salient markers, Aboriginal "Boys summon courage" in male initiation focussing on bloodletting (Scollay & Tweedie 656). Such images convey the impression that the region is one of nature, taboo, danger and adventure and that it is a land out of time. The enchantment with ritual stems from it being a key to the past and indicative of photographer and writer having travelled through space to travel through time, similar to the connection made by Victorian evolutionary anthropologists last century (see Fabian). Naturalisation The naturalised Aboriginal Australians appearing in National Geographic are characterised by having timeless societies and personalities, what Wolf identifies as people without history. Routine location narratives naturalise Aboriginal Australians through their remote landscapes and seascapes ("blazing bushfire", Scollay & Tweedie 652-3; "conjuring an image as old as his ancestors", "scorched in one season, sodden in the next" Newman & Abell 3-9). In the West the cultural appropriation of nature is the object of labour, whereas for Aboriginal Australians it is the subject of labour. Aboriginal men are hunters ("triumphant with his kill", Arden & Abell 9; "the earth and sea of their own accord furnish them with all the things necessary for life", Newman & Abell 14-5). Thus, in National Geographic the productive world of work further naturalises the Aboriginal 'Other'. Sexualisation Naked Black women provide the hallmark National Geographic imagery of the sexualized 'Other'. By purveying the nude Aboriginal female, the magazine develops Western ideas about race, gender and sexuality, subcategorised in each case as black, female and unrepressed (Lutz & Collins 115). Women are white, men are Black and Black women are invisible in popular visual representations of motherhood in Western culture. In trafficking in photographs of Black women for an overwhelmingly white readership, National Geographic is clearly linking narrative threads of gender and race (Lutz & Collins166). As the readers' gaze focusses on the Aboriginal child they become the site for dealing with racial anxieties through creating the Black love object ("an appetite for learning", Scollay & Tweedie 654; "mud mates", Ellis & Austen 8-9). National Geographic's nickname for mother-child photos is 'tits and tots' (Meltzer) and they are a romantic staple in the magazine. Aboriginal mothering in "marriages of diplomacy" is idealised as the foundation of human social life (Scollay & Tweedie 650-1). However, with "seven of Johnny Bungawuy's 11 wives and a handful of his 52 children" this marriage is exotic enough to make cultural difference an issue because it depicts the unusually large number of plural marriage partners available to Aboriginal men in their practice of polygyny. The attribution of erotic qualities and sexual license to Aboriginal women is a result of displaying their bodies for close examination. The naked Aboriginal women in "marriages of diplomacy" represent the nude stylised as ethnographic fact (Scollay & Tweedie 650-1). The addition of a woman in the "marriages of diplomacy" photograph commoditises the practice of polygyny and illustrates that women have traditionally been seen as objects to be possessed, owned and adornments to the lives of men (Pollack). Location Past to Location Present Idealisation of the Aboriginal 'Other' allows for detemporalisation to be played out in alluring images of a simpler, natural Aboriginal world only now tentatively facing the throes of modernisation. Social Darwinism counterpoises superstition/ritual with science/technology and darker skin/exotic clothes with lighter skin/Western clothes. The Aboriginal guide bearing a "striking resemblance to his counterpart on the Burke-Wills journey" facilitates a form of ancestor worship that relates to what Rosaldo calls imperialist nostalgia for the passing of what we ourselves have destroyed (Judge & Scherschel 165). Photographs of the Aboriginal Australians are organised into a story about cultural evolution couched in normative discourse of modernisation and development as progress. In photographs contrasting the premodern with the modern the commodity stands for the future: "soda, soap, and spears in the arms of an [Aboriginal] father and daughter demonstrate their coexistence with white society" (Scollay & Tweedie 662). While for the Aboriginal father in "keeping faith with past and future" his "son enters an era that will inevitably propel his people into modern society" (MacLeish & Nebbia 171). Commodities in these contrasting representations are to be seen simply as a stage on the way to Westernisation. Dynamism, change and agency are apportioned to the Western centre, while Aboriginal Australians are just responding to the onslaught of modernisation on the periphery. Aboriginal masculinisation of modernity is situated in a series of photographs depicting the expansive frontier outback where Aboriginal stockmen are content to muster the cattle of white station owners. In "boiling the red dust" the Aboriginal stockman strums his guitar but sometimes "lapses into tradition and roams on walkabout" (Walker & Scherschel 457). Another Aboriginal stockman, in "saga of beef or bust", "uses his tracking ability to run down strays and cleanskins -- unbranded beasts" (MacLeish & Nebbia 161). "Other than his boots and a jug of water all he owns is rolled into the swag", the Aboriginal stockman must compete with the modern helicopter ("pesky as a giant fly", MacLeish & Stanfield 165); alternatively, "with a wager on the line, an Aboriginal stockman whoops it up at the annual Bedourie Race Meeting" (Ellis & Austen 3). The idealised image is one of the rugged yet happy lives of the Aboriginal stockman in transition to modernity. Social evolutionary theory "saw women in non-Western societies as oppressed and servile creatures, beasts of burden, chattels who could be bought and sold, eventually to be liberated by 'civilisation' or 'progress', thus attaining the enviable position of women in Western society" (Etienne & Leacock 1). Aboriginal feminisation of modernity is told through stories about the premodern helpmate to husband work of Aboriginal women. "Sharing a 'cuppa' at the start of their day" is gendered with vulnerability, primitivity, superstition and the constraints of tradition (Newman & Abell 24-5). The ambivalent message represented in "sharing a 'cuppa' at the start of their day" is complicated by the Aboriginal woman's stockman partner being white. Western ideological understanding of women's work has changed since WWII from helpmate to husband to self-realisation and independence (Chafe). However, images of Aboriginal women in modern work are conspicuously absent. Dispossessed Aboriginal prospectors earn money by 'yandying' ("Paddy Blair's no Irishman", MacLeish & Stanfield 166) -- "winnowing by tossing handfuls of ore into the wind to separate dirt from tin or gold" and 'noodling' -- "poking through rubble" ("selling water and renting bulldozers", Moore & Tweedie 569). Abject "down-and-outs addicted to cheap, poisonous wood alcohol" end up as dispossessed fringe-dwelling 'goomies' in Redfern ("matron saint", Starbird & Madden 224-5). Resistance through situationally motivated undertaking by Indigenous people against expropriation of land and resources is rarely represented in the media (see Drinnon), and National Geographic first attempts such a representation in the 1980s with "heads of several clans" (Scollay & Tweedie 653). Aboriginal men attempt to block a government mining survey crew. But the six Aboriginal men gaze off in different directions and only one is clearly focussed on something in the frame, thus the assembled men assume a disconnected, uncoordinated look. In the 1990s National Geographic story "The Uneasy Magic of Australia's Cape York Peninsula", Aboriginality is equated with caring for the land (Newman & Abell). Aboriginal peoples of Cape York Peninsula are portrayed as conservators valuable for their preservation of biocultural diversity ("the richlytextured landscape", Newman & Abell 17). Aboriginal "white sand people" of Cape York Peninsula are "on a sacred mission" when they "return an ancestor's skull to their homeland at Shelbourne Bay (Newman & Abell 32-3). After years of frustrated efforts to win back their lost domain, the peninsula's native people are at last gaining ground". Aboriginal Australian uses of land and resources are idealised as non-destructive and caring in contrast to rapacious postcolonial development aggression. National Geographic images of Aboriginal Australians have moved from the exoticised, naturalised and sexualised location past. Images in the location present of Cape York mirror the postcolonial transition from Aboriginal dispossession informed by terra nullius to their contemporary empowerment informed by native title. References Arden, H., and S. Abell. "Journey into Dreamtime: The Land of Northwest Australia." National Geographic 179 (Jan. 1991): 8-42. Chafe, W. "Social Change and the American Woman, 1940-70". A History of Our Time: Readings on Postwar America. Eds. W. Chafe and H. Sitkoff. New York: Oxford UP, 1983. 157-65. Drinnon, R. Facing West: The Metaphysics of Indian Hating and Empire Building. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1980. Ellis, W., and D. Austen. "Queensland: Broad Shoulder of Australia." National Geographic 169 (Jan. 1986): 2-39. Etienne, M. and E. Leacock, eds. Women and Colonisation: Anthropological Perspectives. New York: Praeger, 1980. Fabian, J. Time and the Other: How Anthropology Makes Its Object. New York: Columbia UP, 1983. Judge, J., and J. Scherschel. "The Journey of Burke and Wills: First across Australia." National Geographic Feb. (1979): 52-91. Lutz, C., and J. Collins. Reading National Geographic. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1993. MacLeish, K., and T. Nebbia. "The Top End Down Under." National Geographic Feb. (1993): 143-73. MacLeish, K. and J. Stanfield. "Western Australia: The Big Country." National Geographic Feb. (1975): 147-87. Meltzer, M. Dorothea Lange: A Photographer's Life. NewYork: Farrar Straus Giroux, 1978. Moore, K., and P. Tweedie. "Coober Pedy: Opal Capital of Australia's Outback." National Geographic Oct. (1976): 560-71. Newman, C., and S. Abell. "The Uneasy Magic of Australia's Cape York Peninsula." National Geographic June (1996 ): 2-33. Ortner, S. "Is Female to Male as Nature Is to Culture?" Woman, Culture, and Society. Eds. M. Rosaldo and L. Lamphere. Stanford: Stanford UP, 1974. 67-88. Pollack, G. "What's Wrong with Images of Women?" Looking On: Images of Femininity in the Visual Arts and the Media. Ed. R. Betterton. London: Pandora, 1987. 40-8. Rosaldo, R. Culture and Truth. Boston: Beacon P, 1989. Scollay, C., and P. Tweedie. "Arnhem Land Aboriginals Cling to the Dreamtime." National Geographic Nov. (1980): 645-61. Starbird, E., and R. Madden. "Sydney: Big, Breezy, and a Bloomin' Good Show." National Geographic Feb. (1979): 211-36. Walker, H., and J. Scherschel. "South Australia, Gateway to the Great Outback." National Geographic April (1970): 441-81. Wolf, E. Europe and the People without History.Berkeley: U of California P, 1982. Citation reference for this article MLA style: David Hyndman. "Postcolonial Representation of Aboriginal Australian Culture: Location Past to Location Present in National Geographic." M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3.2 (2000). [your date of access] <http://www.api-network.com/mc/0005/geo.php>. Chicago style: David Hyndman, "Postcolonial Representation of Aboriginal Australian Culture: Location Past to Location Present in National Geographic," M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3, no. 2 (2000), <http://www.api-network.com/mc/0005/geo.php> ([your date of access]). APA style: David Hyndman. (2000) Postcolonial representation of Aboriginal Australian culture: location past to location present in National Geographic. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3(2). <http://www.api-network.com/mc/0005/geo.php> ([your date of access]).

The term “coffee palace” was primarily used in Australia to describe the temperance hotels that were built in the last decades of the 19th century, although there are references to the term also being used to a lesser extent in the United Kingdom (Denby 174). Built in response to the worldwide temperance movement, which reached its pinnacle in the 1880s in Australia, coffee palaces were hotels that did not serve alcohol. This was a unique time in Australia’s architectural development as the economic boom fuelled by the gold rush in the 1850s, and the demand for ostentatious display that gathered momentum during the following years, afforded the use of richly ornamental High Victorian architecture and resulted in very majestic structures; hence the term “palace” (Freeland 121). The often multi-storied coffee palaces were found in every capital city as well as regional areas such as Geelong and Broken Hill, and locales as remote as Maria Island on the east coast of Tasmania. Presented as upholding family values and discouraging drunkenness, the coffee palaces were most popular in seaside resorts such as Barwon Heads in Victoria, where they catered to families. Coffee palaces were also constructed on a grand scale to provide accommodation for international and interstate visitors attending the international exhibitions held in Sydney (1879) and Melbourne (1880 and 1888). While the temperance movement lasted well over 100 years, the life of coffee palaces was relatively short-lived. Nevertheless, coffee palaces were very much part of Australia’s cultural landscape. In this article, I examine the rise and demise of coffee palaces associated with the temperance movement and argue that coffee palaces established in the name of abstinence were modelled on the coffee houses that spread throughout Europe and North America in the 17th and 18th centuries during the Enlightenment—a time when the human mind could be said to have been liberated from inebriation and the dogmatic state of ignorance. The Temperance Movement At a time when newspapers are full of lurid stories about binge-drinking and the alleged ill-effects of the liberalisation of licensing laws, as well as concerns over the growing trend of marketing easy-to-drink products (such as the so-called “alcopops”) to teenagers, it is difficult to think of a period when the total suppression of the alcohol trade was seriously debated in Australia. The cause of temperance has almost completely vanished from view, yet for well over a century—from 1830 to the outbreak of the Second World War—the control or even total abolition of the liquor trade was a major political issue—one that split the country, brought thousands onto the streets in demonstrations, and influenced the outcome of elections. Between 1911 and 1925 referenda to either limit or prohibit the sale of alcohol were held in most States. While moves to bring about abolition failed, Fitzgerald notes that almost one in three Australian voters expressed their support for prohibition of alcohol in their State (145). Today, the temperance movement’s platform has largely been forgotten, killed off by the practical example of the United States, where prohibition of the legal sale of alcohol served only to hand control of the liquor traffic to organised crime. Coffee Houses and the Enlightenment Although tea has long been considered the beverage of sobriety, it was coffee that came to be regarded as the very antithesis of alcohol. When the first coffee house opened in London in the early 1650s, customers were bewildered by this strange new drink from the Middle East—hot, bitter, and black as soot. But those who tried coffee were, reports Ellis, soon won over, and coffee houses were opened across London, Oxford, and Cambridge and, in the following decades, Europe and North America. Tea, equally exotic, entered the English market slightly later than coffee (in 1664), but was more expensive and remained a rarity long after coffee had become ubiquitous in London (Ellis 123-24). The impact of the introduction of coffee into Europe during the seventeenth century was particularly noticeable since the most common beverages of the time, even at breakfast, were weak “small beer” and wine. Both were safer to drink than water, which was liable to be contaminated. Coffee, like beer, was made using boiled water and, therefore, provided a new and safe alternative to alcoholic drinks. There was also the added benefit that those who drank coffee instead of alcohol began the day alert rather than mildly inebriated (Standage 135). It was also thought that coffee had a stimulating effect upon the “nervous system,” so much so that the French called coffee une boisson intellectuelle (an intellectual beverage), because of its stimulating effect on the brain (Muskett 71). In Oxford, the British called their coffee houses “penny universities,” a penny then being the price of a cup of coffee (Standage 158). Coffee houses were, moreover, more than places that sold coffee. Unlike other institutions of the period, rank and birth had no place (Ellis 59). The coffee house became the centre of urban life, creating a distinctive social culture by treating all customers as equals. Egalitarianism, however, did not extend to women—at least not in London. Around its egalitarian (but male) tables, merchants discussed and conducted business, writers and poets held discussions, scientists demonstrated experiments, and philosophers deliberated ideas and reforms. For the price of a cup (or “dish” as it was then known) of coffee, a man could read the latest pamphlets and newsletters, chat with other patrons, strike business deals, keep up with the latest political gossip, find out what other people thought of a new book, or take part in literary or philosophical discussions. Like today’s Internet, Twitter, and Facebook, Europe’s coffee houses functioned as an information network where ideas circulated and spread from coffee house to coffee house. In this way, drinking coffee in the coffee house became a metaphor for people getting together to share ideas in a sober environment, a concept that remains today. According to Standage, this information network fuelled the Enlightenment (133), prompting an explosion of creativity. Coffee houses provided an entirely new environment for political, financial, scientific, and literary change, as people gathered, discussed, and debated issues within their walls. Entrepreneurs and scientists teamed up to form companies to exploit new inventions and discoveries in manufacturing and mining, paving the way for the Industrial Revolution (Standage 163). The stock market and insurance companies also had their birth in the coffee house. As a result, coffee was seen to be the epitome of modernity and progress and, as such, was the ideal beverage for the Age of Reason. By the 19th century, however, the era of coffee houses had passed. Most of them had evolved into exclusive men’s clubs, each geared towards a certain segment of society. Tea was now more affordable and fashionable, and teahouses, which drew clientele from both sexes, began to grow in popularity. Tea, however, had always been Australia’s most popular non-alcoholic drink. Tea (and coffee) along with other alien plants had been part of the cargo unloaded onto Australian shores with the First Fleet in 1788. Coffee, mainly from Brazil and Jamaica, remained a constant import but was taxed more heavily than tea and was, therefore, more expensive. Furthermore, tea was much easier to make than coffee. To brew tea, all that is needed is to add boiling water, coffee, in contrast, required roasting, grinding and brewing. According to Symons, until the 1930s, Australians were the largest consumers of tea in the world (19). In spite of this, and as coffee, since its introduction into Europe, was regarded as the antidote to alcohol, the temperance movement established coffee palaces. In the early 1870s in Britain, the temperance movement had revived the coffee house to provide an alternative to the gin taverns that were so attractive to the working classes of the Industrial Age (Clarke 5). Unlike the earlier coffee house, this revived incarnation provided accommodation and was open to men, women and children. “Cheap and wholesome food,” was available as well as reading rooms supplied with newspapers and periodicals, and games and smoking rooms (Clarke 20). In Australia, coffee palaces did not seek the working classes, as clientele: at least in the cities they were largely for the nouveau riche. Coffee Palaces The discovery of gold in 1851 changed the direction of the Australian economy. An investment boom followed, with an influx of foreign funds and English banks lending freely to colonial speculators. By the 1880s, the manufacturing and construction sectors of the economy boomed and land prices were highly inflated. Governments shared in the wealth and ploughed money into urban infrastructure, particularly railways. Spurred on by these positive economic conditions and the newly extended inter-colonial rail network, international exhibitions were held in both Sydney and Melbourne. To celebrate modern technology and design in an industrial age, international exhibitions were phenomena that had spread throughout Europe and much of the world from the mid-19th century. According to Davison, exhibitions were “integral to the culture of nineteenth century industrialising societies” (158). In particular, these exhibitions provided the colonies with an opportunity to demonstrate to the world their economic power and achievements in the sciences, the arts and education, as well as to promote their commerce and industry. Massive purpose-built buildings were constructed to house the exhibition halls. In Sydney, the Garden Palace was erected in the Botanic Gardens for the 1879 Exhibition (it burnt down in 1882). In Melbourne, the Royal Exhibition Building, now a World Heritage site, was built in the Carlton Gardens for the 1880 Exhibition and extended for the 1888 Centennial Exhibition. Accommodation was required for the some one million interstate and international visitors who were to pass through the gates of the Garden Palace in Sydney. To meet this need, the temperance movement, keen to provide alternative accommodation to licensed hotels, backed the establishment of Sydney’s coffee palaces. The Sydney Coffee Palace Hotel Company was formed in 1878 to operate and manage a number of coffee palaces constructed during the 1870s. These were designed to compete with hotels by “offering all the ordinary advantages of those establishments without the allurements of the drink” (Murdoch). Coffee palaces were much more than ordinary hotels—they were often multi-purpose or mixed-use buildings that included a large number of rooms for accommodation as well as ballrooms and other leisure facilities to attract people away from pubs. As the Australian Town and Country Journal reveals, their services included the supply of affordable, wholesome food, either in the form of regular meals or occasional refreshments, cooked in kitchens fitted with the latest in culinary accoutrements. These “culinary temples” also provided smoking rooms, chess and billiard rooms, and rooms where people could read books, periodicals and all the local and national papers for free (121). Similar to the coffee houses of the Enlightenment, the coffee palaces brought businessmen, artists, writers, engineers, and scientists attending the exhibitions together to eat and drink (non-alcoholic), socialise and conduct business. The Johnson’s Temperance Coffee Palace located in York Street in Sydney produced a practical guide for potential investors and businessmen titled International Exhibition Visitors Pocket Guide to Sydney. It included information on the location of government departments, educational institutions, hospitals, charitable organisations, and embassies, as well as a list of the tariffs on goods from food to opium (1–17). Women, particularly the Woman’s Christian Temperance Union (WCTU) were a formidable force in the temperance movement (intemperance was generally regarded as a male problem and, more specifically, a husband problem). Murdoch argues, however, that much of the success of the push to establish coffee palaces was due to male politicians with business interests, such as the one-time Victorian premiere James Munro. Considered a stern, moral church-going leader, Munro expanded the temperance movement into a fanatical force with extraordinary power, which is perhaps why the temperance movement had its greatest following in Victoria (Murdoch). Several prestigious hotels were constructed to provide accommodation for visitors to the international exhibitions in Melbourne. Munro was responsible for building many of the city’s coffee palaces, including the Victoria (1880) and the Federal Coffee Palace (1888) in Collins Street. After establishing the Grand Coffee Palace Company, Munro took over the Grand Hotel (now the Windsor) in 1886. Munro expanded the hotel to accommodate some of the two million visitors who were to attend the Centenary Exhibition, renamed it the Grand Coffee Palace, and ceremoniously burnt its liquor licence at the official opening (Murdoch). By 1888 there were more than 50 coffee palaces in the city of Melbourne alone and Munro held thousands of shares in coffee palaces, including those in Geelong and Broken Hill. With its opening planned to commemorate the centenary of the founding of Australia and the 1888 International Exhibition, the construction of the Federal Coffee Palace, one of the largest hotels in Australia, was perhaps the greatest monument to the temperance movement. Designed in the French Renaissance style, the façade was embellished with statues, griffins and Venus in a chariot drawn by four seahorses. The building was crowned with an iron-framed domed tower. New passenger elevators—first demonstrated at the Sydney Exhibition—allowed the building to soar to seven storeys. According to the Federal Coffee Palace Visitor’s Guide, which was presented to every visitor, there were three lifts for passengers and others for luggage. Bedrooms were located on the top five floors, while the stately ground and first floors contained majestic dining, lounge, sitting, smoking, writing, and billiard rooms. There were electric service bells, gaslights, and kitchens “fitted with the most approved inventions for aiding proficients [sic] in the culinary arts,” while the luxury brand Pears soap was used in the lavatories and bathrooms (16–17). In 1891, a spectacular financial crash brought the economic boom to an abrupt end. The British economy was in crisis and to meet the predicament, English banks withdrew their funds in Australia. There was a wholesale collapse of building companies, mortgage banks and other financial institutions during 1891 and 1892 and much of the banking system was halted during 1893 (Attard). Meanwhile, however, while the eastern States were in the economic doldrums, gold was discovered in 1892 at Coolgardie and Kalgoorlie in Western Australia and, within two years, the west of the continent was transformed. As gold poured back to the capital city of Perth, the long dormant settlement hurriedly caught up and began to emulate the rest of Australia, including the construction of ornately detailed coffee palaces (Freeman 130). By 1904, Perth had 20 coffee palaces. When the No. 2 Coffee Palace opened in Pitt Street, Sydney, in 1880, the Australian Town and Country Journal reported that coffee palaces were “not only fashionable, but appear to have acquired a permanent footing in Sydney” (121). The coffee palace era, however, was relatively short-lived. Driven more by reformist and economic zeal than by good business sense, many were in financial trouble when the 1890’s Depression hit. Leading figures in the temperance movement were also involved in land speculation and building societies and when these schemes collapsed, many, including Munro, were financially ruined. Many of the palaces closed or were forced to apply for liquor licences in order to stay afloat. Others developed another life after the temperance movement’s influence waned and the coffee palace fad faded, and many were later demolished to make way for more modern buildings. The Federal was licensed in 1923 and traded as the Federal Hotel until its demolition in 1973. The Victoria, however, did not succumb to a liquor licence until 1967. The Sydney Coffee Palace in Woolloomooloo became the Sydney Eye Hospital and, more recently, smart apartments. Some fine examples still survive as reminders of Australia’s social and cultural heritage. The Windsor in Melbourne’s Spring Street and the Broken Hill Hotel, a massive three-story iconic pub in the outback now called simply “The Palace,” are some examples. Tea remained the beverage of choice in Australia until the 1950s when the lifting of government controls on the importation of coffee and the influence of American foodways coincided with the arrival of espresso-loving immigrants. As Australians were introduced to the espresso machine, the short black, the cappuccino, and the café latte and (reminiscent of the Enlightenment), the post-war malaise was shed in favour of the energy and vigour of modernist thought and creativity, fuelled in at least a small part by caffeine and the emergent café culture (Teffer). Although the temperance movement’s attempt to provide an alternative to the ubiquitous pubs failed, coffee has now outstripped the consumption of tea and today’s café culture ensures that wherever coffee is consumed, there is the possibility of a continuation of the Enlightenment’s lively discussions, exchange of news, and dissemination of ideas and information in a sober environment. 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