Journal articles on the topic 'Philadelphia Maritime Museum. Library'

Beginning in the latter part of the sixteenth century British naval and shipping interests gradually emerged as one of the major maritime forces operating in African waters and, by the end of the eighteenth century, British shipping dominated the export slave trade. The establishment of colonial plantation economies in the Americas, the global expansion of British political and commercial interests resulting from the Napoleonic Wars, and the anti-slave trade suppression campaign in the first three-quarters of the nineteenth century all brought British seafarers into intimate association with African peoples. This relationship became more intense with the scramble for colonial territories throughout the continent in the late nineteenth century.As a direct consequence of this extensive political and economic relationship a voluminous amount of documentary material exists. One of the principal depositories of this material is the National Maritime Museum (NMM) of Great Britain located in Greenwich, southeast of Central London. This essay reviews some of the documentary holdings found in the Library of the NMM, resources that scholars might find useful in reconstructing British maritime activities in relation to peoples of African descent. Located within the Museum its holdings include printed books and other printed materials, maps and atlases, rare and original manuscripts, ship's plans and drawings, collections on shipwrecks, piracy, and boats, together with various photographic and art collections. While the Library is free and open to the public, it is helpful to contact the Secretary of the NMM with a letter of introduction prior to a first visit.

For the last three years, roger chartier and i have taught an undergraduate seminar called the history of print Culture in Early Modern Europe and America. Although the content of the course has changed, one feature has been persistent: at least half our classes met in the rare-book libraries of Philadelphia. While we have often held the seminar in Special Collections at the University of Pennsylvania, we have also gone to the Library Company of Philadelphia, the Free Library, and the Rosenbach Museum and Library. This would not have been possible without the extraordinary openness and generosity of the Philadelphia libraries and librarians. But the work of those librarians has not only provided an infrastructure for the course; it has also reshaped what we've worked on and how we teach it.

South Australian Maritime Museum 126 Lipson Street, Port Adelaide, SA 5015, Australia http://samaritimemuseum.com.au/ Admission: AUD 10/8/5 The South Australian Maritime Museum cares for one of South Australia’s oldest cultural heritage collections.2 The core collection, inherited from the Port Adelaide Institute (one of the legion of nineteenth-century mechanics’ institutes providing learning resources to working men), began in 1872. Visiting seafarers spent time in the ins titute’s library, leaving behind crafts or souvenirs picked up in exotic ports of call as a token of thanks. In the 1930s, honorary curator Vernon Smith refi ned the collection to focus solely on nautical material and searched for artifacts to enhance it. Th e collection now comprises over twenty thousand objects.

In the article, the current situation and future prospects of transcribing, editing, interpreting, and preparing Isaac Newton’s manuscripts for publication are studied. The author investigates manuscripts from the following Newton’s archives: (1) Portsmouth’s archive (Cambridge University Library, Cambridge, UK); (2) Yahuda collection (National Library of Israel, Jerusalem, Israel); (3) Keynes collection (King’s College Library, Cambridge University, Cambridge, UK); (4) Trinity College archive (Trinity College Library, Cambridge University, Cambridge, UK); (5) Oxford archive (New’s College Library, Oxford University, Oxford, UK); (6) Mint, economic and financial papers (National Archives in Kew Gardens, Richmond, Surrey, UK); (7) Bodmer’s collection (Martin Bodmer Society Library, Cologny, Switzerland); (8) Sotheby’s Auction House archive (London, UK); (9) James White collection (James White Library, Andrews University, Berrien Springs, Michigan, US); (10) St Andrews collection (University of St Andrews Library, St Andrews, UK); (11) Bodleian collection (Bodleian Library, Oxford University, Oxford, UK); (12) Grace K. Babson collection (Huntington Library, San Marino, California, US); (13) Stanford collection (Stanford University Library, Palo Alto, California, US); (14) Massachusetts collection (Massachusetts Technological Institute Library, Boston, Massachusetts, US); (15) Texas archive (Harry Ransom Humanities Research Centre, University of Texas Library, Austin, Texas, US); (16) Morgan archive (Pierpont Morgan Library, New York, US); (17) Fitzwilliam collection (Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge University, Cambridge, UK); (18) Royal Society collection (Royal Society Library, London, UK): (19) Dibner collection (Dibner Library, Smithsonian Institution, Washington D.C., US); (20) Philadelphia archive (Library of the American Philosophical Society, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, US). There is a great discrepancy between what Newton wrote (approx. 350 volumes) and what was published thus far (five works). It is accounted for by a number of reasons: (a) ongoing inheritance litigations involving Newton’s archives; (b) dispersing Newton’s manuscripts in countries with different legal systems, consequently, dissimilar copyright and ownership branches of civil law; (c) disappearance of nearly 15 per cent of Newton works; (d) lack of accordance of views among Newton’s researchers; (e) problems with arranging Newton’s ideas in his possible Collected Works to be published; (f) Newton’s incompliance with the official Anglican doctrine; (g) Newton’s unwillingness to disclose his compositions to the broad public. The problems of transcribing, editing, interpreting, and pre-print preparing Newton’s works, are as follows: (a) Newton’s complicated handwriting, negligence in spelling, frequent misspellings and errors; (b) constant deletion, crossing out, and palimpsest; (c) careless insertion of figures, tables in formulas in the text, with many of them being intersected; (d) the presence of glosses situated at different angles to the main text and even over it; (e) encrypting his meanings, Newton’s strict adherence to prisca sapientia tradition. Despite the obstacles described, transcribing Newton’s manuscripts allows us to understand Sir Newton’s thought better in the unity of his mathematical, philosophical, physical, historical, theological and social ideas.

Many of the old Japanese postcards archived in Slovenia today date from the period between the 1890s and 1920s when Austro-Hungarian Navy members were active and travelled to Japan as a part of their duties. Collectors and users of these postcards were of Slovenian origin. Their postcards were identified in the National and University Library in Ljubljana and in the Maritime Museum “Sergej Mašera” Piran. A postcard in private possession has also been added to the list. The format regulation of postcard printing changed in Japan in 1907 and this is confirmed using the postcards identified in Slovenia. The main motifs of the pictures were of scenery, portraits and individual objects. Among them, the category of scenery is dominated by ports, such as Yokohama, Kobe and Nagasaki, which are later overtaken as they become tourist destinations. The most characteristic postcards from this period around the turn of the century fall under the category of portrait: clothing and hairdos, customs and professions were all the focus of attention. These photos were made in photo studios with the aim of introducing Japan and its culture to Western visitors. As for the category of individual objects, picture postcards of Russian and Japanese warships attract our eyes.

Purpose – The purpose of this paper is to contest Edwards et al.’s (2002) findings that resistance to the introduction of double-entry bookkeeping and the form that it took when implemented by the British Government in the mid-nineteenth century was the result of ideological conflict between the privileged landed aristocracy and the rising merchant middle class. Design/methodology/approach – The study draws upon a collection of documents preserved as part of the Grigg Family Papers located in London and the Thomson Papers held in the Mitchell Library in Sydney. It also draws on evidence contained within the British National Archive, the National Maritime Museum and British Parliamentary Papers which has been overlooked by previous studies of the introduction of DEB. Findings – Conflict and delays in the adoption of double-entry bookkeeping were not primarily the product of “ideological” differences between the influential classes. Instead, this study finds that conflict was the result of a complex amalgam of class interests, ideology, personal antipathy, professional intolerance and ambition. Newly discovered evidence recognises the critical, largely forgotten, work of John Deas Thomson in developing a double-entry bookkeeping system for the Royal Navy and the importance of Sir James Graham’s determination that matters of economy would be emphasised in the Navy’s accounting. Originality/value – This study establishes that crucial to the ultimate implementation of double-entry bookkeeping was the passionate, determined support of influential champions with strong liberal beliefs, most especially John Deas Thomson and Sir James Graham. Prominence was given to economy in government.

The article analyses the illuminations of two incunables which are housed in the monastery of St Francis at Šibenik. The front page of the incunable of John Duns Scotus’ Scriptum in quattuor libros Sententiarum Petri Lombardi (Johannes de Colonia et Johannes Manthen, Venice, 1477) is decorated with high-quality figural and phytomorphic illuminations. In the corners of the decorative frame in the upper margin are the figures of a heronand a monkey. Vertical sections of the frame are filled with flowers, leaves and berries in the colour blue, green and cyclamen pink and with numerous stylized golden burdock flowers (Arctium). The central part of the frame in the upper and lower margin is filled with dense, symmetrically placed thick leaves in the colour blue, green, purple and cyclamen pink with a stylized golden burdockflower (Arctium) appearing here and there. In the centre of the page is a crest composed of two fields separated by a horizontal line; the upper on is red and the lower one white. Two winged putti are set in the corners andthey hold red ribbons. Each wears a necklace made of red corals and classical sandals on their feet. They landscape around them is arid and there is only one tree, its bark dry, standing in it. The rocky ground with jagged edges is covered in small stones. The distinctly painted winged putti, the depiction of the landscape and the dense vegetal decoration filling the frame in the upper and lower margin demonstrate noticeable similarities with the works of Giovanni Vendramin, a prominent representative of Paduan Renaissance miniature. Thefront page of the aforementioned incunable at Šibenik can be attributed to him; he may well have been helped by his workshop and collaborators. First and foremost, it ought to be mentioned that the decorative frame on one of the opening pages (c. 4v) in an Antiphonary at Ferrara features identical type of leaf decoration as the one that fills the upper and lower margin in the incunable at Šibenik. Here too, the playful putti wear classical sandals and necklaces made of red coral. Furthermore, putti with identical physiohnomies – wearing coral necklaces and classical sandals while holding ribbons in their hands – can be found on fol. 2r in the incunable of Marcus Tullius Cicero’s Orationes (Venice, Christophorus Valdarfer, 1471, Philadelphia, The Rosenbach Museum and Library, Inc 471ci). The landscape in which the putti are depictedis also arid and marked by a single dry tree rising from the ground covered with small stones. Identical putti can be seen on the cover of the incunable of Marcus Tullius Cicero’s, Tusculanae Quaestiones (Venice, N. Jenson, 1472, London, British Library, C.1c.10, fol. 1). The landscape is also depicted in the same way. An excellent comparative example can be found in the winged putti standing on an all’antica structure on the cover of the manuscript of Jacopo Camphora’s, De immortalitate animae (London, Brittish Library, MS Add. 22325) which is decorated with architectural forms. The left and the upper margins of the opening pages of Book I and Book III of Gaius Julius Caesar’s Commentariorvm de bello Gallico (Milan, Antonius Zarotus, 1477) are decorated with frames filled with white vine scrolls on red, green and blue background with white dots. The decoration extends beyond the ornamental frames and reaches into the gold initials G and C. Although the decorative frames were not completely finished, it can be ascertained that they were made with great skill and are of high quality. This frame type was frequently used by Giovanni Vendramin and the examples from Šibenik are very close to some of his works, especially those made for Jacopo Zeno, the Bishop of Padua (Padua, Biblioteca Capitolare).

-Michael D. Olien, Edmund T. Gordon, Disparate Diasporas: Identity and politics in an African-Nicaraguan community.Austin: University of Texas Press, 1998. xiv + 330 pp.-Donald Cosentino, Margarite Fernández Olmos ,Sacred possessions: Vodou, Santería, Obeah, and the Caribbean. New Brunswick NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1997. viii + 312 pp., Lizabeth Paravisini-Gebert (eds)-John P. Homiak, Lorna McDaniel, The big drum ritual of Carriacou: Praisesongs in rememory of flight. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1998. xiv + 198 pp.-Julian Gerstin, Gerdès Fleurant, Dancing spirits: Rhythms and rituals of Haitian Vodun, the Rada Rite. Westport CT: Greenwood, 1996. xvi + 240 pp.-Rose-Marie Chierici, Alex Stepick, Pride against Prejudice: Haitians in the United States. Boston: Allyn & Bacon, 1998. x + 134 pp.-Rose-Marie Chierici, Flore Zéphir, Haitian immigrants in Black America: A sociological and sociolinguistic portrait. Westport CT: Bergin & Garvey, 1996. xvi + 180 pp.-Luis Martínez-Fernández, Rosalie Schwartz, Pleasure Island: Tourism and temptation in Cuba. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1997. xxiv + 239 pp.-Jorge L. Giovannetti, My footsteps in Baraguá. Script and direction by Gloria Rolando. VHS, 53 minutes. Havana: Mundo Latino, 1996.-Gert Oostindie, Mona Rosendahl, Inside the revolution: Everyday life in socialist Cuba. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1997. x + 194 pp.-Frank Argote-Freyre, Lisa Brock ,Between race and empire: African-Americans and Cubans before the Cuban revolution. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1998. xii + 298 pp., Digna Castañeda Fuertes (eds)-José E. Cruz, Frances Negrón-Muntaner ,Puerto Rican Jam: Rethinking colonialism and nationalism. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1997. x + 303 pp., Ramón Grosfoguel (eds)-Helen I. Safa, Félix V. Matos Rodríguez ,Puerto Rican Women's history: New perspectives. Armonk NY: M.E. Sharpe, 1998. x + 262 pp., Linda C. Delgado (eds)-Arlene Torres, Jean P. Peterman, Telling their stories: Puerto Rican Women and abortion. Boulder CO: Westview Press, 1996. ix + 112 pp.-Trevor W. Purcell, Philip Sherlock ,The story of the Jamaican People. Kingston: Ian Randle; Princeton: Markus Wiener, 1998. xii + 434 pp., Hazel Bennett (eds)-Howard Fergus, Donald Harman Akenson, If the Irish ran the world: Montserrat, 1630-1730. Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 1997. xii + 273 pp.-John S. Brierley, Lawrence S. Grossman, The political ecology of bananas: Contract farming, peasants, and agrarian change in the Eastern Caribbean. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1998. xx + 268 pp.-Mindie Lazarus-Black, Jeannine M. Purdy, Common law and colonised peoples: Studies in Trinidad and Western Australia. Aldershot, UK: Ashgate Dartmouth, 1997. xii + 309.-Stephen Slemon, Barbara Lalla, Defining Jamaican fiction: Marronage and the discourse of survival. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press, 1996. xi + 224 pp.-Stephen Slemon, Renu Juneja, Caribbean transactions: West Indian culture in literature.-Sue N. Greene, Richard F. Patteson, Caribbean Passages: A critical perspective on new fiction from the West Indies. Boulder CO: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1998. ix + 187 pp.-Harold Munneke, Ivelaw L. Griffith ,Democracy and human rights in the Caribbean. Boulder CO: Westview Press, 1997. vii + 278 pp., Betty N. Sedoc-Dahlberg (eds)-Francisco E. Thoumi, Ivelaw Lloyd Griffith, Drugs and security in the Caribbean: Sovereignty under seige. University Park: Penn State University Press, 1997. xx + 295 pp.-Michiel Baud, Eric Paul Roorda, The dictator next door: The good neighbor policy and the Trujillo regime in the Dominican republic, 1930-1945. Durham NC: Duke University Press, 1998. xii + 337 pp.-Peter Mason, Wim Klooster, The Dutch in the Americas 1600-1800. Providence RI: The John Carter Brown Library, 1997. xviii + 101 pp.-David R. Watters, Aad H. Versteeg ,The archaeology of Aruba: The Tanki Flip site. Oranjestad; Archaeological Museum Aruba, 1997. 518 pp., Stéphen Rostain (eds)

This article examines the library collection at the Maritime Museum of British Columbia. It provides portraits of its collections and outlines their importance for maritime, genealogical, scholarly, and general interest researchers. As a little-known collection in an underfunded cultural institution, this library has not received the financial support it deserves and is thus confronting the deterioration of its artifacts. The museum board members and the collections manager have launched an initiative to fully catalogue and preserve the entire library. This article outlines their approach, which serves as an example for similar institutions.

PREFACEThe articles of this supplement resulted from the 5 th International Congress of the Brazilian Geophysical Society held in São Paulo city, Brazil, at the Convention Center of the Transamérica Hotel, from 28 th September to 2 nd of October 1997. The participants of the Round Table Discussions on “Mean Sea Level Changes Along the Brazilian Coast” were Dr. Denizar Blitzkow, Polytechnic School of the University of São Paulo, (POLI-USP), Prof. Dr. Waldenir Veronese Furtado, Institute of Oceanography (IO-USP), Dr. Joseph Harari (IO-USP), Dr. Roberto Teixeira from the Brazilian Institute of Geography and Statistics (IBGE), and the invited coordinator Prof. Dr. Afrânio Rubens de Mesquita (IO-USP). Soon after the first presentation of the IBGE representative, on the efforts of his Institute regarding sea level matters, it became clear that, apart from a M.Sc. Thesis of Mesquita (1968) and the contributions of Johannenssen (1967), Mesquita et al. (1986) and Mesquita et al. (1994), little was known by the participants, about the history of the primordial sea level measurements along the Brazilian coast, one of the objectives of the meeting. So, following the strong recommendations of the Table participants, a short review on the early Brazilian sea level measurements was planned for a much needed general historical account on the topic. For this purpose, several researchers such as The Commander Frederico Corner Bentes, Directorate of Hydrography and Navigation (DHN) of the Brazilian Navy, Ms. Maria Helena Severo (DHN) and Eng. Jose Antonio dos Santos, National Institute of Ports and Rivers (INPH), long involved with the national sea level measurements were asked to present their views. Promptly, they all provided useful information on the ports and present difficulties with the Brazilian Law relative to the “Terrenos de Marinha” (Sea/Land Limits). Admiral Max Justo Guedes of the General Documentation Service (SDG) of the Brazilian Navy gave an account of the first “Roteiros”– Safe ways to approach the cities (ports) of that time by the sea –, written by the Portuguese navigators in the XVI Century, on the newly found land of “Terra de Santa Cruz”, Brazil’s first given name. Admiral Dr. Alberto Dos Santos Franco (IO-USP/DHN) gave information on the first works on sea level analysis published by the National Observatory (ON) Scientists, Belford Vieira (1928) and Lemos (1928). In a visit to ON, which belongs to the National Council of Scientific and Technological Research (CNPq) and after a thorough discussion on sea level matters in Brazil, Dr. Luiz Muniz Barreto showed the Library Museum, where the Tide Predictor machine, purchased from England, in the beginning of the XX century, is well kept and preserved. Afterwards, Dr. Mauro de Andrade Sousa of ON, sent a photography (Fig. 1) of the Kelvin machine (the same Kelvin of the Absolute Temperature), a tide predictor firstly used in the Country by ON to produce Tide Tables. From 1964 until now, the astronomical prediction of Tides (Tide Tables) for most of the Brazilian ports is produced using computer software and published by the DHN. Before the 5 th International Congress of Geophysics, the Global Observing Sea Level System (GLOSS), a program of the Intergovernmental Oceanographic Commission (IOC) of UNESCO, had already offered a Training Course on sea level matters, in 1993 at IO-USP (IOC. 1999) and, six years later, a Training Workshop was also given at IO-USP in 1999 (IOC. 2000). Several participants of the Portuguese and Spanish speaking countries of the Americas and Africa (Argentina, Brazil, Chile, Mozambique, Uruguay, Peru, São Tome and Principe and Venezuela) were invited to take part in the Course and Workshop, under the auspices of the IOC. During the Training Course of 1993, Dr. David Pugh, Director of GLOSS, proposed to publish a Newsletter for sea level matters as a FORUM of the involved countries. The Newsletter, after the approval of the IOC Chairman at the time, Dr. Albert Tolkachev, ended up as the Afro America GLOSS News (AAGN). The newsletter had its first Edition published by IO-USP and was paper-printed up to its 4 th Edition. After that, under the registration Number ISSN: 1983-0319, from the CNPq and the new forum of GLOSS, which the Afro-American Spanish and Portuguese speaking countries already had, started to be disseminated only electronically. Currently on its 15 th Edition, the News Letter can be accessed on: www.mares.io.usp.br, Icon Afro America GLOSS News (AAGN),the electronic address of the “Laboratory of Tides and Oceanic Temporal Processes” (MAPTOLAB) of IO-USP, where other contributions on Brazilian sea level, besides the ones given in this Supplement, can also be found. The acronym GLOSS identifies the IOC program, which aims to produce an overall global long-term sea level data set from permanent measuring stations, distributed in ocean islands and all over the continental borders about 500 Km on average apart from each other, covering evenly both Earth hemispheres. The program follows the lines of the Permanent Service for the Mean Sea Level (PSMSL), a Service established in 1933 by the International Association for the Physical Sciences of the Ocean (IAPSO), which, however, has a much stronger and denser sea level data contribution from countries of the Northern Hemisphere. The Service receives and organizes sea level data sent by all countries with maritime borders, members of the United Nations (UN) and freely distributes the data to interested people, on the site http://www.pol.ac.uk/psmsl. The Permanent Station of Cananeia, Brazil, which has the GLOSS number 194 together with several other permanent stations (San Francisco, USA, Brest, France and many others), belongs to a chosen group of stations (Brazil has 9 GLOSS Stations) prepared to produce real time sea level, accompanied by gravity, GPS and meteorological high quality data measurements, aiming to contribute for a strictly reliable “in situ” data knowledge regarding the Global Earth sea level variability. Following the recommendations of the Round Table for a search of the first historical events, it was found that sea level measurements started in the Brazilian coast in 1781. The year when the Portuguese astronomer Sanches Dorta came to the Southern oceans, interested in studying the attraction between masses, applied to the oceanic tides a fundamental global law discovered by Isaak Newton in the seventeenth century. Nearly a hundred years later the Law was confirmed by Henry Cavendish. Another nearly hundred years passed and a few years after the transfer of the Portuguese Crown from Europe to Brazil, in 1808, the Port of Rio de Janeiro was occupied, in 1831, for the first systematic sea level measurements ever performed on the Brazilian coast. The one year recorded tidal signal, showing a clear semidiurnal tide is kept nowadays in the Library of the Directory of Hydrography and Navigation (DHN) of the Brazilian Navy. After the proclamation of the Brazilian Republic in 1889, systematic sea level measurements at several ports along the coast were organized and established by the Port Authorities precursors of INPH. Sea level analyses based on these measurements were made by Belford Vieira (op. cit.) and Lemos (op. cit.) of the aforementioned National Observatory (ON), and the Institute of the National Council of Research and Technology (CNPq), which gave the knowledge of tides and tidal analysis a valuable boost at that time. For some reason, the measurements of 1831 were included into the Brazilian Federal law No. 9760 of 1946, to serve as the National Reference (NR) for determining the sea/land limits of the “Terrenos de Marinha”, and inadvertently took it as if it were a fixed and permanent level along the years, which is known today to be untrue. Not only for this reason, but also for the fact that the datum, the reference level (RL) in the Port of Rio de Janeiro, to which the measurements of 1831 were referred to, was lost, making the 1946 Law inapplicable nowadays. The recommendations of the Round Table participants seemed to have been providential for the action which was taken, in order to solve these unexpected events. A method for recovering the 1831 limits of high waters, referred by Law 9760, was produced recently and is shown in this supplement. It is also shown the first attempt to identify, on the coast of São Paulo State, from the bathymetry of the marine charts produced by DHN, several details of the bottom of the shelf area. The Paleo Rivers and terraces covered by the most recent de-glaciation period, which started about 20,000 years ago, were computationally uncovered from the charts, showing several paleo entrances of rivers and other sediment features of the shelf around “Ilha Bela”, an island off the coast of S˜ao Sebastião. Another tidal analysis contribution, following the first studies of ON scientists, but now using computer facilities and the Fast Fourier Transform for tidal analysis, developed by Franco and Rock (1971), is also shown in this Supplement. Estimates of Constituents amplitudes as M2 and S2 seem to be decreasing along the years. In two ports of the coast this was effective, as a consequence of tidal energy being transferred from the astronomical Tide Generator Potential (PGM), created basically by the Sun and the Moon, to nonlinear components generated by tidal currents in a process of continuously modifying the beaches, estuarine borders and the shelf area. A study on the generation of nonlinear tidal components, also envisaged by Franco (2009) in his book on tides, seems to be the answer to some basic questions of this field of knowledge. Harari & Camargo (1994) worked along the same lines covering the entire South Eastern Shelf. As for Long Term Sea Level Trends, the sea level series produced by the National Institute of Research for Ports and Rivers (INPH), with the 10 years series obtained by the Geodetic Survey of USA, in various Brazilian ports, together with the sea level series of Cananeia of IO-USP, allowed the first estimation of Brazil’s long term trend, as about 30 cm/cty. A study comparing this value with the global value of sea level variation obtained from the PSMSL data series, shows that among the positively and negatively trended global tidal series, the Brazilian series are well above the mean global trend value of about 18 cm/cty. This result was communicated to IAPSO in the 1987 meeting in Honolulu, Hawaii, USA. In another attempt to decipher the long term sea level contents of these series, the correlation values, as a measure of collinearity and proximity values, as well as the distance of the yearly mean data values of sea level to the calculated regression line, are shown to be invariant with rotation of the Cartesian axes in this Supplement. Not following the recommendations of the Round Table but for the completeness of this Preface, these values, estimated from the Permanent Service for the Mean Sea Level data, with the Brazilian series included, allowed the definition of a function F, which, being also invariant with axis rotation, seems to measure the sort of characteristic state of variability of each sea level series. The plot of F values against the corresponding trend values of the 60 to 100 year-long PSMSL series is shown in Figure 2. This plot shows positive values of F reaching the 18 cm/cty, in good agreement with the recent International Panel for Climate Changes (IPCC) estimated global value. However, the negative side of the Figure also shows other values of F giving other information, which is enigmatic and is discussed in Mesquita (2004). For the comprehensiveness of this Preface and continuation of the subjects, although not exactly following the discussions of the Round Table, other related topics were developed since the 5th Symposium in 1997, for the extreme sea level events. They were estimated for the port of Cananeia, indicating average values of 2.80 m above mean sea level, which appears to be representative of the entire Brazilian coast and probable to occur within the next hundred years, as shown by Franco et al. (2007). Again for completeness, the topic on the steric and halosteric sea levels has also been talked about a lot after the 1997 reunion. Prospects of further studies on the topic rely on proposed oceanographic annual section measurements on the Southeastern coast, “The Capricorn Section,” aimed at estimating the variability and the long term steric and halosteric sea levels contributions, as expressed in Mesquita (2009). These data and the time series measurements (sea level, GPS, meteorology and gravity), already taken at Cananeia and Ubatuba research Stations, both near the Tropic of Capricorn, should allow to locally estimate the values of almost all basic components of the sea level over the Brazilian Southeastern area and perhaps also of the whole South Atlantic, allowing for quantitative studies on their composition, long term variability and their climatic influence.

The Digital TurnMuch of the 19th century disappeared from public view during the 20th century. Historians recovered what they could from archives and libraries, with the easy pickings-the famous and the fortunate-coming first. Latterly, social and political historians of different hues determinedly sought out the more hidden, forgotten, and marginalised. However, there were always limitations to resources-time, money, location, as well as purpose, opportunity, and permission. 'History' was principally a professionalised and privileged activity dominated by academics who had preferential access to, and significant control over, the resources, technologies and skills required, as well as the social, economic and cultural framework within which history was recovered, interpreted, approved and disseminated.Digitisation and the broader development of new communication technologies has, however, transformed historical research processes and practice dramatically, removing many constraints, opening up many opportunities, and allowing many others than the professional historian to trace and track what would have remained hidden, forgotten, or difficult to find, as well as verify (or otherwise), what has already been claimed and concluded. In the 21st century, the SEARCH button has become a dominant tool of research. This, along with other technological and media developments, has altered the practice of historians-professional or 'public'-who can now range deep and wide in the collection, portrayal and dissemination of historical information, in and out of the confines of the traditional institutional walls of retained information, academia, location, and national boundaries.This incorporation of digital technologies into academic historical practice generally, has raised, as Cohen and Rosenzweig, in their book Digital History, identified a decade ago, not just promises, but perils. For the historian, there has been the move, through digitisation, from the relative scarcity and inaccessibility of historical material to its (over) abundance, but also the emerging acceptance that, out of both necessity and preference, a hybridity of sources will be the foreseeable way forward. There has also been a significant shift, as De Groot notes in his book Consuming History, in the often conflicted relationship between popular/public history and academic history, and the professional and the 'amateur' historian. This has brought a potentially beneficial democratization of historical practice but also an associated set of concerns around the loss of control of both practice and product of the professional historian. Additionally, the development of digital tools for the collection and dissemination of 'history' has raised fears around the commercialised development of the subject's brand, products and commodities. This article considers the significance and implications of some of these changes through one protracted act of recovery and reclamation in which the digital made the difference: the life of a notorious 19th century professional agitator on both sides of the Atlantic, John De Morgan. A man thought lost, but now found."Who Is John De Morgan?" The search began in 1981, linked to the study of contemporary "race riots" in South East London. The initial purpose was to determine whether there was a history of rioting in the area. In the Local History Library, a calm and dusty backwater, an early find was a fading, but evocative and puzzling, photograph of "The Plumstead Common Riots" of 1876. It showed a group of men and women, posing for the photographer on a hillside-the technology required stillness, even in the middle of a riot-spades in hand, filling in a Mr. Jacob's sandpits, illegally dug from what was supposed to be common land. The leader of this, and other similar riots around England, was John De Morgan. A local journalist who covered the riots commented: "Of Mr. De Morgan little is known before or since the period in which he flashed meteorlike through our section of the atmosphere, but he was indisputably a remarkable man" (Vincent 588). Thus began a trek, much interrupted, sometimes unmapped and haphazard, to discover more about this 'remarkable man'. "Who is John De Morgan" was a question frequently asked by his many contemporary antagonists, and by subsequent historians, and one to which De Morgan deliberately gave few answers. The obvious place to start the search was the British Museum Reading Room, resplendent in its Victorian grandeur, the huge card catalogue still in the 1980s the dominating technology. Together with the Library's newspaper branch at Colindale, this was likely to be the repository of all that might then easily be known about De Morgan.From 1869, at the age of 21, it appeared that De Morgan had embarked on a life of radical politics that took him through the UK, made him notorious, lead to accusations of treasonable activities, sent him to jail twice, before he departed unexpectedly to the USA in 1880. During that period, he was involved with virtually every imaginable radical cause, at various times a temperance advocate, a spiritualist, a First Internationalist, a Republican, a Tichbornite, a Commoner, an anti-vaccinator, an advanced Liberal, a parliamentary candidate, a Home Ruler. As a radical, he, like many radicals of the period, "zigzagged nomadically through the mayhem of nineteenth century politics fighting various foes in the press, the clubs, the halls, the pulpit and on the street" (Kazin 202). He promoted himself as the "People's Advocate, Champion and Friend" (Allen). Never a joiner or follower, he established a variety of organizations, became a professional agitator and orator, and supported himself and his politics through lecturing and journalism. Able to attract huge crowds to "monster meetings", he achieved fame, or more correctly notoriety. And then, in 1880, broke and in despair, he disappeared from public view by emigrating to the USA.LostThe view of De Morgan as a "flashing meteor" was held by many in the 1870s. Historians of the 20th century took a similar position and, while considering him intriguing and culturally interesting, normally dispatched him to the footnotes. By the latter part of the 20th century, he was described as "one of the most notorious radicals of the 1870s yet remains a shadowy figure" and was generally dismissed as "a swashbuckling demagogue," a "democratic messiah," and" if not a bandit … at least an adventurer" (Allen 684). His politics were deemed to be reactionary, peripheral, and, worst of all, populist. He was certainly not of sufficient interest to pursue across the Atlantic. In this dismissal, he fell foul of the highly politicised professional culture of mid-to-late 20th-century academic historians. In particular, the lack of any significant direct linkage to the story of the rise of a working class, and specifically the British Labour party, left individuals like De Morgan in the margins and footnotes. However, in terms of historical practice, it was also the case that his mysterious entry into public life, his rapid rise to brief notability and notoriety, and his sudden disappearance, made the investigation of his career too technically difficult to be worthwhile.The footprints of the forgotten may occasionally turn up in the archived papers of the important, or in distant public archives and records, but the primary sources are the newspapers of the time. De Morgan was a regular, almost daily, visitor to the pages of the multitude of newspapers, local and national, that were published in Victorian Britain and Gilded Age USA. He also published his own, usually short-lived and sometimes eponymous, newspapers: De Morgan's Monthly and De Morgan's Weekly as well as the splendidly titled People's Advocate and National Vindicator of Right versus Wrong and the deceptively titled, highly radical, House and Home. He was highly mobile: he noted, without too much hyperbole, that in the 404 days between his English prison sentences in the mid-1870s, he had 465 meetings, travelled 32,000 miles, and addressed 500,000 people. Thus the newspapers of the time are littered with often detailed and vibrant accounts of his speeches, demonstrations, and riots.Nonetheless, the 20th-century technologies of access and retrieval continued to limit discovery. The white gloves, cradles, pencils and paper of the library or archive, sometimes supplemented by the century-old 'new' technology of the microfilm, all enveloped in a culture of hallowed (and pleasurable) silence, restricted the researcher looking to move into the lesser known and certainly the unknown. The fact that most of De Morgan's life was spent, it was thought, outside of England, and outside the purview of the British Library, only exacerbated the problem. At a time when a historian had to travel to the sources and then work directly on them, pencil in hand, it needed more than curiosity to keep searching. Even as many historians in the late part of the century shifted their centre of gravity from the known to the unknown and from the great to the ordinary, in any form of intellectual or resource cost-benefit analysis, De Morgan was a non-starter.UnknownOn the subject of his early life, De Morgan was tantalisingly and deliberately vague. In his speeches and newspapers, he often leaked his personal and emotional struggles as well as his political battles. However, when it came to his biographical story, he veered between the untruthful, the denial, and the obscure. To the twentieth century observer, his life began in 1869 at the age of 21 and ended at the age of 32. His various political campaign "biographies" gave some hints, but what little he did give away was often vague, coy and/or unlikely. His name was actually John Francis Morgan, but he never formally acknowledged it. He claimed, and was very proud, to be Irish and to have been educated in London and at Cambridge University (possible but untrue), and also to have been "for the first twenty years of his life directly or indirectly a railway servant," and to have been a "boy orator" from the age of ten (unlikely but true). He promised that "Some day-nay any day-that the public desire it, I am ready to tell the story of my strange life from earliest recollection to the present time" (St. Clair 4). He never did and the 20th century could unearth little evidence in relation to any of his claims.The blend of the vague, the unlikely and the unverifiable-combined with an inclination to self-glorification and hyperbole-surrounded De Morgan with an aura, for historians as well as contemporaries, of the self-seeking, untrustworthy charlatan with something to hide and little to say. Therefore, as the 20th century moved to closure, the search for John De Morgan did so as well. Though interesting, he gave most value in contextualising the lives of Victorian radicals more generally. He headed back to the footnotes.Now FoundMeanwhile, the technologies underpinning academic practice generally, and history specifically, had changed. The photocopier, personal computer, Internet, and mobile device, had arrived. They formed the basis for both resistance and revolution in academic practices. For a while, the analytical skills of the academic community were concentrated on the perils as much as the promises of a "digital history" (Cohen and Rosenzweig Digital).But as the Millennium turned, and the academic community itself spawned, inter alia, Google, the practical advantages of digitisation for history forced themselves on people. Google enabled the confident searching from a neutral place for things known and unknown; information moved to the user more easily in both time and space. The culture and technologies of gathering, retrieval, analysis, presentation and preservation altered dramatically and, as a result, the traditional powers of gatekeepers, institutions and professional historians was redistributed (De Groot). Access and abundance, arguably over-abundance, became the platform for the management of historical information. For the search for De Morgan, the door reopened. The increased global electronic access to extensive databases, catalogues, archives, and public records, as well as people who knew, or wanted to know, something, opened up opportunities that have been rapidly utilised and expanded over the last decade. Both professional and "amateur" historians moved into a space that made the previously difficult to know or unknowable now accessible.Inevitably, the development of digital newspaper archives was particularly crucial to seeking and finding John De Morgan. After some faulty starts in the early 2000s, characterised as a "wild west" and a "gold rush" (Fyfe 566), comprehensive digitised newspaper archives became available. While still not perfect, in terms of coverage and quality, it is a transforming technology. In the UK, the British Newspaper Archive (BNA)-in pursuit of the goal of the digitising of all UK newspapers-now has over 20 million pages. Each month presents some more of De Morgan. Similarly, in the US, Fulton History, a free newspaper archive run by retired computer engineer Tom Tryniski, now has nearly 40 million pages of New York newspapers. The almost daily footprints of De Morgan's radical life can now be seen, and the lives of the social networks within which he worked on both sides of the Atlantic, come easily into view even from a desk in New Zealand.The Internet also allows connections between researchers, both academic and 'public', bringing into reach resources not otherwise knowable: a Scottish genealogist with a mass of data on De Morgan's family; a Californian with the historian's pot of gold, a collection of over 200 letters received by De Morgan over a 50 year period; a Leeds Public Library blogger uncovering spectacular, but rarely seen, Victorian electoral cartoons which explain De Morgan's precipitate departure to the USA. These discoveries would not have happened without the infrastructure of the Internet, web site, blog, and e-mail. Just how different searching is can be seen in the following recent scenario, one of many now occurring. An addition in 2017 to the BNA shows a Master J.F. Morgan, aged 13, giving lectures on temperance in Ledbury in 1861, luckily a census year. A check of the census through Ancestry shows that Master Morgan was born in Lincolnshire in England, and a quick look at the 1851 census shows him living on an isolated blustery hill in Yorkshire in a railway encampment, along with 250 navvies, as his father, James, works on the construction of a tunnel. Suddenly, literally within the hour, the 20-year search for the childhood of John De Morgan, the supposedly Irish-born "gentleman who repudiated his class," has taken a significant turn.At the end of the 20th century, despite many efforts, John De Morgan was therefore a partial character bounded by what he said and didn't say, what others believed, and the intellectual and historiographical priorities, technologies, tools and processes of that century. In effect, he "lived" historically for a less than a quarter of his life. Without digitisation, much would have remained hidden; with it there has been, and will still be, much to find. De Morgan hid himself and the 20th century forgot him. But as the technologies have changed, and with it the structures of historical practice, the question that even De Morgan himself posed – "Who is John De Morgan?" – can now be addressed.SearchingDigitisation brings undoubted benefits, but its impact goes a long way beyond the improved search and detection capabilities, into a range of technological developments of communication and media that impact on practice, practitioners, institutions, and 'history' itself. A dominant issue for the academic community is the control of "history." De Groot, in his book Consuming History, considers how history now works in contemporary popular culture and, in particular, examines the development of the sometimes conflicted relationship between popular/public history and academic history, and the professional and the 'amateur' historian.The traditional legitimacy of professional historians has, many argue, been eroded by shifts in technology and access with the power of traditional cultural gatekeepers being undermined, bypassing the established control of institutions and professional historian. While most academics now embrace the primary tools of so-called "digital history," they remain, De Groot argues, worried that "history" is in danger of becoming part of a discourse of leisure, not a professionalized arena (18). An additional concern is the role of the global capitalist market, which is developing, or even taking over, 'history' as a brand, product and commodity with overt fiscal value. Here the huge impact of newspaper archives and genealogical software (sometimes owned in tandem) is of particular concern.There is also the new challenge of "navigating the chaos of abundance in online resources" (De Groot 68). By 2005, it had become clear that:the digital era seems likely to confront historians-who were more likely in the past to worry about the scarcity of surviving evidence from the past-with a new 'problem' of abundance. A much deeper and denser historical record, especially one in digital form seems like an incredible opportunity and a gift. But its overwhelming size means that we will have to spend a lot of time looking at this particular gift horse in mouth. (Cohen and Rosenzweig, Web).This easily accessible abundance imposes much higher standards of evidence on the historian. The acceptance within the traditional model that much could simply not be done or known with the resources available meant that there was a greater allowance for not knowing. But with a search button and public access, democratizing the process, the consumer as well as the producer can see, and find, for themselves.Taking on some of these challenges, Zaagsma, having reminded us that the history of digital humanities goes back at least 60 years, notes the need to get rid of the "myth that historical practice can be uncoupled from technological, and thus methodological developments, and that going digital is a choice, which, I cannot emphasis strongly enough, it is not" (14). There is no longer a digital history which is separate from history, and with digital technologies that are now ubiquitous and pervasive, historians have accepted or must quickly face a fundamental break with past practices. However, also noting that the great majority of archival material is not digitised and is unlikely to be so, Zaagsma concludes that hybridity will be the "new normal," combining "traditional/analogue and new/digital practices at least in information gathering" (17).ConclusionA decade on from Cohen and Rozenzweig's "Perils and Promises," the digital is a given. Both historical practice and historians have changed, though it is a work in progress. An early pioneer of the use of computers in the humanities, Robert Busa wrote in 1980 that "the principal aim is the enhancement of the quality, depth and extension of research and not merely the lessening of human effort and time" (89). Twenty years later, as Google was launched, Jordanov, taking on those who would dismiss public history as "mere" popularization, entertainment or propaganda, argued for the "need to develop coherent positions on the relationships between academic history, the media, institutions…and popular culture" (149). As the digital turn continues, and the SEARCH button is just one part of that, all historians-professional or "amateur"-will take advantage of opportunities that technologies have opened up. Looking across the whole range of transformations in recent decades, De Groot concludes: "Increasingly users of history are accessing the past through complex and innovative media and this is reconfiguring their sense of themselves, the world they live in and what history itself might be about" (310). ReferencesAllen, Rob. "'The People's Advocate, Champion and Friend': The Transatlantic Career of Citizen John De Morgan (1848-1926)." Historical Research 86.234 (2013): 684-711.Busa, Roberto. "The Annals of Humanities Computing: The Index Thomisticus." Computers and the Humanities 14.2 (1980): 83-90.Cohen, Daniel J., and Roy Rosenzweig. Digital History: A Guide to Gathering, Preserving, and Presenting the Past on the Web. Philadelphia, PA: U Pennsylvania P, 2005.———. "Web of Lies? Historical Knowledge on the Internet." First Monday 10.12 (2005).De Groot, Jerome. Consuming History: Historians and Heritage in Contemporary Popular Culture. 2nd ed. Abingdon: Routledge, 2016.De Morgan, John. Who Is John De Morgan? A Few Words of Explanation, with Portrait. By a Free and Independent Elector of Leicester. London, 1877.Fyfe, Paul. "An Archaeology of Victorian Newspapers." Victorian Periodicals Review 49.4 (2016): 546-77."Interchange: The Promise of Digital History." Journal of American History 95.2 (2008): 452-91.Johnston, Leslie. "Before You Were Born, We Were Digitizing Texts." The Signal 9 Dec. 2012, Library of Congress. <https://blogs.loc.gov/thesignal/292/12/before-you-were-born-we-were-digitizing-texts>.Jordanova, Ludmilla. History in Practice. 2nd ed. London: Arnold, 2000.Kazin, Michael. A Godly Hero: The Life of William Jennings Bryan. New York: Anchor Books, 2006.Saint-Clair, Sylvester. Sketch of the Life and Labours of J. De Morgan, Elocutionist, and Tribune of the People. Leeds: De Morgan & Co., 1880.Vincent, William T. The Records of the Woolwich District, Vol. II. Woolwich: J.P. Jackson, 1890.Zaagsma, Gerban. "On Digital History." BMGN-Low Countries Historical Review 128.4 (2013): 3-29.

The academic journal is obsolete. In a world where there are more titles than ever, this is a comment on their form – especially the print journal – rather than their quantity. Now that you can get everything online, it doesn’t really matter what journal a paper appears in; certainly it doesn’t matter what’s in the same issue. The experience of a journal is rapidly obsolescing, for both editors and readers. I’m obviously not the first person to notice this (see, for instance, "Scholarly Communication"; "Transforming Scholarly Communication"; Houghton; Policy Perspectives; Teute), but I do have a personal stake in the process. For if the journal is obsolete then it follows that the editor is obsolete, and I am the editor of the International Journal of Cultural Studies. I founded the IJCS and have been sole editor ever since. Next year will see the fiftieth issue. So far, I have been responsible for over 280 published articles – over 2.25 million words of other people’s scholarship … and counting. We won’t say anything about the words that did not get published, except that the IJCS rejection rate is currently 87 per cent. Perhaps the first point that needs to be made, then, is that obsolescence does not imply lack of success. By any standard the IJCS is a successful journal, and getting more so. It has recently been assessed as a top-rating A* journal in the Australian Research Council’s journal rankings for ERA (Excellence in Research for Australia), the newly activated research assessment exercise. (In case you’re wondering, M/C Journal is rated B.) The ARC says of the ranking exercise: ‘The lists are a result of consultations with the sector and rigorous review by leading researchers and the ARC.’ The ARC definition of an A* journal is given as: Typically an A* journal would be one of the best in its field or subfield in which to publish and would typically cover the entire field/ subfield. Virtually all papers they publish will be of very high quality. These are journals where most of the work is important (it will really shape the field) and where researchers boast about getting accepted.Acceptance rates would typically be low and the editorial board would be dominated by field leaders, including many from top institutions. (Appendix I, p. 21; and see p. 4.)Talking of boasting, I love to prate about the excellent people we’ve published in the IJCS. We have introduced new talent to the field, and we have published new work by some of its pioneers – including Richard Hoggart and Stuart Hall. We’ve also published – among many others – Sara Ahmed, Mohammad Amouzadeh, Tony Bennett, Goran Bolin, Charlotte Brunsdon, William Boddy, Nico Carpentier, Stephen Coleman, Nick Couldry, Sean Cubitt, Michael Curtin, Daniel Dayan, Ben Dibley, Stephanie Hemelryk Donald, John Frow, Elfriede Fursich, Christine Geraghty, Mark Gibson, Paul Gilroy, Faye Ginsberg, Jonathan Gray, Lawrence Grossberg, Judith Halberstam, Hanno Hardt, Gay Hawkins, Joke Hermes, Su Holmes, Desmond Hui, Fred Inglis, Henry Jenkins, Deborah Jermyn, Ariel Heryanto, Elihu Katz, Senator Rod Kemp (Australian government minister), Youna Kim, Agnes Ku, Richard E. Lee, Jeff Lewis, David Lodge (the novelist), Knut Lundby, Eric Ma, Anna McCarthy, Divya McMillin, Antonio Menendez-Alarcon, Toby Miller, Joe Moran, Chris Norris, John Quiggin, Chris Rojek, Jane Roscoe, Jeffrey Sconce, Lynn Spigel, John Storey, Su Tong, the late Sako Takeshi, Sue Turnbull, Graeme Turner, William Uricchio, José van Dijck, Georgette Wang, Jing Wang, Elizabeth Wilson, Janice Winship, Handel Wright, Wu Jing, Wu Qidi (Chinese Vice-Minister of Education), Emilie Yueh-Yu Yeh, Robert Young and Zhao Bin. As this partial list makes clear, as well as publishing the top ‘hegemons’ we also publish work pointing in new directions, including papers from neighbouring disciplines such as anthropology, area studies, economics, education, feminism, history, literary studies, philosophy, political science, and sociology. We have sought to represent neglected regions, especially Chinese cultural studies, which has grown strongly during the past decade. And for quite a few up-and-coming scholars we’ve been the proud host of their first international publication. The IJCS was first published in 1998, already well into the internet era, but it was print-only at that time. Since then, all content, from volume 1:1 onwards, has been digitised and is available online (although vol 1:2 is unaccountably missing). The publishers, Sage Publications Ltd, London, have steadily added online functionality, so that now libraries can get the journal in various packages, including offering this title among many others in online-only bundles, and individuals can purchase single articles online. Thus, in addition to institutional and individual subscriptions, which remain the core business of the journal, income is derived by the publisher from multi-site licensing, incremental consortial sales income, single- and back-issue sales (print), pay-per-view, and deep back file sales (electronic). So what’s obsolete about it? In that boasting paragraph of mine (above), about what wonderful authors we’ve published, lies one of the seeds of obsolescence. For now that it is available online, ‘users’ (no longer ‘readers’!) can search for what they want and ignore the journal as such altogether. This is presumably how most active researchers experience any journal – they are looking for articles (or less: quotations; data; references) relevant to a given topic, literature review, thesis etc. They encounter a journal online through its ‘content’ rather than its ‘form.’ The latter is irrelevant to them, and may as well not exist. The Cover Some losses are associated with this change. First is the loss of the front cover. Now you, dear reader, scrolling through this article online, might well complain, why all the fuss about covers? Internet-generation journals don’t have covers, so all of the work that goes into them to establish the brand, the identity and even the ‘affect’ of a journal is now, well, obsolete. So let me just remind you of what’s at stake. Editors, designers and publishers all take a good deal of trouble over covers, since they are the point of intersection of editorial, design and marketing priorities. Thus, the IJCS cover contains the only ‘content’ of the journal for which we pay a fee to designers and photographers (usually the publisher pays, but in one case I did). Like any other cover, ours has three main elements: title, colour and image. Thought goes into every detail. Title I won’t say anything about the journal’s title as such, except that it was the result of protracted discussions (I suggested Terra Nullius at one point, but Sage weren’t having any of that). The present concern is with how a title looks on a cover. Our title-typeface is Frutiger. Originally designed by Adrian Frutiger for Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris, it is suitably international, being used for the corporate identity of the UK National Health Service, Telefónica O2, the Royal Navy, the London School of Economics , the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, the Conservative Party of Canada, Banco Bradesco of Brazil, the Finnish Defence Forces and on road signs in Switzerland (Wikipedia, "Frutiger"). Frutiger is legible, informal, and reads well in small copy. Sage’s designer and I corresponded on which of the words in our cumbersome name were most important, agreeing that ‘international’ combined with ‘cultural’ is the USP (Unique Selling Point) of the journal, so they should be picked out (in bold small-caps) from the rest of the title, which the designer presented in a variety of Frutiger fonts (regular, italic, and reversed – white on black), presumably to signify the dynamism and diversity of our content. The word ‘studies’ appears on a lozenge-shaped cartouche that is also used as a design element throughout the journal, for bullet points, titles and keywords. Colour We used to change this every two years, but since volume 7 it has stabilised with the distinctive Pantone 247, ‘new fuchsia.’ This colour arose from my own environment at QUT, where it was chosen (by me) for the new Creative Industries Faculty’s academic gowns and hoods, and thence as a detailing colour for the otherwise monochrome Creative Industries Precinct buildings. There’s a lot of it around my office, including on the wall and the furniture. New Fuchsia is – we are frequently told – a somewhat ‘girly’ colour, especially when contrasted with the Business Faculty’s blue or Law’s silver; its similarity to the Girlfriend/Dolly palette does introduce a mild ‘politics of prestige’ element, since it is determinedly pop culture, feminised, and non-canonical. Image Right at the start, the IJCS set out to signal its difference from other journals. At that time, all Sage journals had calligraphic colours – but I was insistent that we needed a photograph (I have ‘form’ in this respect: in 1985 I changed the cover of the Australian Journal of Cultural Studies from a line drawing (albeit by Sydney Nolan) to a photograph; and I co-designed the photo-cover of Cultural Studies in 1987). For IJCS I knew which photo I wanted, and Sage went along with the choice. I explained it in the launch issue’s editorial (Hartley, "Editorial"). That original picture, a goanna on a cattle grid in the outback, by Australian photographer Grant Hobson, lasted ten years. Since volume 11 – in time for our second decade – the goanna has been replaced with a picture by Italian-based photographer Patrick Nicholas, called ‘Reality’ (Hartley, "Cover Narrative"). We have also used two other photos as cover images, once each. They are: Daniel Meadows’s 1974 ‘Karen & Barbara’ (Hartley, "Who"); and a 1962 portrait of Richard Hoggart from the National Portrait Gallery in London (Owen & Hartley 2007). The choice of picture has involved intense – sometimes very tense – negotiations with Sage. Most recently, they were adamant the Daniel Meadows picture, which I wanted to use as the long-term replacement of the goanna, was too ‘English’ and they would not accept it. We exchanged rather sharp words before compromising. There’s no need to rehearse the dispute here; the point is that both sides, publisher and editor, felt that vital interests were at stake in the choice of a cover-image. Was it too obscure; too Australian; too English; too provocative (the current cover features, albeit in the deep background, a TV screen-shot of a topless Italian game-show contestant)? Running Order Beyond the cover, the next obsolete feature of a journal is the running order of articles. Obviously what goes in the journal is contingent upon what has been submitted and what is ready at a given time, so this is a creative role within a very limited context, which is what makes it pleasurable. Out of a limited number of available papers, a choice must be made about which one goes first, what order the other papers should follow, and which ones must be held over to the next issue. The first priority is to choose the lead article: like the ‘first face’ in a fashion show (if you don’t know what I mean by that, see FTV.com. It sets the look, the tone, and the standard for the issue. I always choose articles I like for this slot. It sends a message to the field – look at this! Next comes the running order. We have about six articles per issue. It is important to maintain the IJCS’s international mix, so I check for the country of origin, or failing that (since so many articles come from Anglosphere countries like the USA, UK and Australia), the location of the analysis. Attention also has to be paid to the gender balance among authors, and to the mix of senior and emergent scholars. Sometimes a weak article needs to be ‘hammocked’ between two good ones (these are relative terms – everything published in the IJCS is of a high scholarly standard). And we need to think about disciplinary mix, so as not to let the journal stray too far towards one particular methodological domain. Running order is thus a statement about the field – the disciplinary domain – rather than about an individual paper. It is a proposition about how different voices connect together in some sort of disciplinary syntax. One might even claim that the combination of cover and running order is a last vestige of collegiate collectivism in an era of competitive academic individualism. Now all that matters is the individual paper and author; the ‘currency’ is tenure, promotion and research metrics, not relations among peers. The running order is obsolete. Special Issues An extreme version of running order is the special issue. The IJCS has regularly published these; they are devoted to field-shaping initiatives, as follows: Title Editor(s) Issue Date Radiocracy: Radio, Development and Democracy Amanda Hopkinson, Jo Tacchi 3.2 2000 Television and Cultural Studies Graeme Turner 4.4 2001 Cultural Studies and Education Karl Maton, Handel Wright 5.4 2002 Re-Imagining Communities Sara Ahmed, Anne-Marie Fortier 6.3 2003 The New Economy, Creativity and Consumption John Hartley 7.1 2004 Creative Industries and Innovation in China Michael Keane, John Hartley 9.3 2006 The Uses of Richard Hoggart Sue Owen, John Hartley 10.1 2007 A Cultural History of Celebrity Liz Barry 11.3 2008 Caribbean Media Worlds Anna Pertierra, Heather Horst 12.2 2009 Co-Creative Labour Mark Deuze, John Banks 12.5 2009 It’s obvious that special issues have a place in disciplinary innovation – they can draw attention in a timely manner to new problems, neglected regions, or innovative approaches, and thus they advance the field. They are indispensible. But because of online publication, readers are not held to the ‘project’ of a special issue and can pick and choose whatever they want. And because of the peculiarities of research assessment exercises, editing special issues doesn’t count as research output. The incentive to do them is to that extent reduced, and some universities are quite heavy-handed about letting academics ‘waste’ time on activities that don’t produce ‘metrics.’ The special issue is therefore threatened with obsolescence too. Refereeing In many top-rating journals, the human side of refereeing is becoming obsolete. Increasingly this labour-intensive chore is automated and the labour is technologically outsourced from editors and publishers to authors and referees. You have to log on to some website and follow prompts in order to contribute both papers and the assessment of papers; interactions with editors are minimal. At the IJCS the process is still handled by humans – namely, journal administrator Tina Horton and me. We spend a lot of time checking how papers are faring, from trying to find the right referees through to getting the comments and then the author’s revisions completed in time for a paper to be scheduled into an issue. The volume of email correspondence is considerable. We get to know authors and referees. So we maintain a sense of an interactive and conversational community, albeit by correspondence rather than face to face. Doubtless, sooner or later, there will be a depersonalised Text Management System. But in the meantime we cling to the romantic notion that we are involved in refereeing for the sake of the field, for raising the standard of scholarship, for building a globally dispersed virtual college of cultural studies, and for giving everyone – from unfavoured countries and neglected regions to famous professors in old-money universities – the same chance to get their research published. In fact, these are largely delusional ideals, for as everyone knows, refereeing is part of the political economy of publicly-funded research. It’s about academic credentials, tenure and promotion for the individual, and about measurable research metrics for the academic organisation or funding agency (Hartley, "Death"). The IJCS has no choice but to participate: we do what is required to qualify as a ‘double-blind refereed journal’ because that is the only way to maintain repute, and thence the flow of submissions, not to mention subscriptions, without which there would be no journal. As with journals themselves, which proliferate even as the print form becomes obsolete, so refereeing is burgeoning as a practice. It’s almost an industry, even though the currency is not money but time: part gift-economy; part attention-economy; partly the payment of dues to the suzerain funding agencies. But refereeing is becoming obsolete in the sense of gathering an ‘imagined community’ of people one might expect to know personally around a particular enterprise. The process of dispersal and anonymisation of the field is exacerbated by blind refereeing, which we do because we must. This is suited to a scientific domain of objective knowledge, but everyone knows it’s not quite like that in the ‘new humanities’. The agency and identity of the researcher is often a salient fact in the research. The embedded positionality of the author, their reflexiveness about their own context and room-for-manoeuvre, and the radical contextuality of knowledge itself – these are all more or less axiomatic in cultural studies, but they’re not easily served by ‘double-blind’ refereeing. When refereeing is depersonalised to the extent that is now rife (especially in journals owned by international commercial publishers), it is hard to maintain a sense of contextualised productivity in the knowledge domain, much less a ‘common cause’ to which both author and referee wish to contribute. Even though refereeing can still be seen as altruistic, it is in the service of something much more general (‘scholarship’) and much more particular (‘my career’) than the kind of reviewing that wants to share and improve a particular intellectual enterprise. It is this mid-range altruism – something that might once have been identified as a politics of knowledge – that’s becoming obsolete, along with the printed journals that were the banner and rallying point for the cause. If I were to start a new journal (such as cultural-science.org), I would prefer ‘open refereeing’: uploading papers on an open site, subjecting them to peer-review and criticism, and archiving revised versions once they have received enough votes and comments. In other words I’d like to see refereeing shifted from the ‘supply’ or production side of a journal to the ‘demand’ or readership side. But of course, ‘demand’ for ‘blind’ refereeing doesn’t come from readers; it comes from the funding agencies. The Reading Experience Finally, the experience of reading a journal is obsolete. Two aspects of this seem worthy of note. First, reading is ‘out of time’ – it no longer needs to conform to the rhythms of scholarly publication, which are in any case speeding up. Scholarship is no longer seasonal, as it has been since the Middle Ages (with university terms organised around agricultural and ecclesiastical rhythms). Once you have a paper’s DOI number, you can read it any time, 24/7. It is no longer necessary even to wait for publication. With some journals in our field (e.g. Journalism Studies), assuming your Library subscribes, you can access papers as soon as they’re uploaded on the journal’s website, before the published edition is printed. Soon this will be the norm, just as it is for the top science journals, where timely publication, and thereby the ability to claim first discovery, is the basis of intellectual property rights. The IJCS doesn’t (yet) offer this service, but its frequency is speeding up. It was launched in 1998 with three issues a year. It went quarterly in 2001 and remained a quarterly for eight years. It has recently increased to six issues a year. That too causes changes in the reading experience. The excited ripping open of the package is less of a thrill the more often it arrives. Indeed, how many subscribers will admit that sometimes they don’t even open the envelope? Second, reading is ‘out of place’ – you never have to see the journal in which a paper appears, so you can avoid contact with anything that you haven’t already decided to read. This is more significant than might first appear, because it is affecting journalism in general, not just academic journals. As we move from the broadcast to the broadband era, communicative usage is shifting too, from ‘mass’ communication to customisation. This is a mixed blessing. One of the pleasures of old-style newspapers and the TV news was that you’d come across stories you did not expect to find. Indeed, an important attribute of the industrial form of journalism is its success in getting whole populations to read or watch stories about things they aren’t interested in, or things like wars and crises that they’d rather not know about at all. That historic textual achievement is in jeopardy in the broadband era, because ‘the public’ no longer needs to gather around any particular masthead or bulletin to get their news. With Web 2.0 affordances, you can exercise much more choice over what you attend to. This is great from the point of view of maximising individual choice, but sub-optimal in relation to what I’ve called ‘population-gathering’, especially the gathering of communities of interest around ‘tales of the unexpected’ – novelty or anomalies. Obsolete: Collegiality, Trust and Innovation? The individuation of reading choices may stimulate prejudice, because prejudice (literally, ‘pre-judging’) is built in when you decide only to access news feeds about familiar topics, stories or people in which you’re already interested. That sort of thing may encourage narrow-mindedness. It is certainly an impediment to chance discovery, unplanned juxtaposition, unstructured curiosity and thence, perhaps, to innovation itself. This is a worry for citizenship in general, but it is also an issue for academic ‘knowledge professionals,’ in our ever-narrower disciplinary silos. An in-close specialist focus on one’s own area of expertise need no longer be troubled by the concerns of the person in the next office, never mind the next department. Now, we don’t even have to meet on the page. One of the advantages of whole journals, then, is that each issue encourages ‘macro’ as well as ‘micro’ perspectives, and opens reading up to surprises. This willingness to ‘take things on trust’ describes a ‘we’ community – a community of trust. Trust too is obsolete in these days of performance evaluation. We’re assessed by an anonymous system that’s managed by people we’ll never meet. If the ‘population-gathering’ aspects of print journals are indeed obsolete, this may reduce collegiate trust and fellow-feeling, increase individualist competitiveness, and inhibit innovation. In the face of that prospect, I’m going to keep on thinking about covers, running orders, referees and reading until the role of editor is obsolete too. ReferencesHartley, John. "'Cover Narrative': From Nightmare to Reality." International Journal of Cultural Studies 11.2 (2005): 131-137. ———. "Death of the Book?" Symposium of the National Scholarly Communication Forum & Australian Academy of the Humanities, Sydney Maritime Museum, 2005. 26 Apr. 2009 ‹http://www.humanities.org.au/Resources/Downloads/NSCF/RoundTables1-17/PDF/Hartley.pdf›. ———. 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