Journal articles on the topic 'Proof of Elapsed Time(PoET)'

Data integrity is one of the most critical security concerns for users when using the cloud storage service. However, it is difficult for users to always stay online and frequently interact with storage service providers to ensure continuous data integrity in practice. The existing Proof of Storage-time schemes, enabling verifiable continuous data integrity checking at cost of performance, fail to provide flexible storage period, reliable measurement of storage time, and resistance to the outsourcing attack. In this paper, we propose EnclavePoSt, the first practical Proof of Storage-time via Intel SGX, where the data integrity checking can be automatically executed in a hardware-driven Trusted Execution Environment (TEE), i.e., the enclave, when users are offline. The checking results can be aggregated and efficiently verified by users. Besides, the elapsed time during isolated data integrity checking can be precisely measured, and the storage period is allowed to flexibly change. Lastly, our EnclavePoSt is resistant to the outsourcing attack. The security analysis and evaluations justify that the EnclavePoSt is more practical than previous works.

This note sheds light on the matter of Thomas May's date of birth, which, in biographical accounts, is given as either 1595 or 1596. Starting with the examination of seventeenth century reports of his age at the time of his death, I established 1596 as the more probable year; then, I collected evidence that pointed towards a different place of birth than previously assumed. Following this lead, I found a baptism record that matches the biographical, administrative, and bibliographical information regarding the poet and his family. Although it cannot be taken as irrefutable proof, this discovery offers a reasonable explanation for the absence of birth records in May's home county, as well as, in my opinion, a very likely interval of dates for the birth of the poet.

Modern poetry has permeated all levels of social life today and is recording its range. The realities of life are material today. Poetry in particular is being recorded as the voice of the oppressed, the marginalized, the gender-disenfranchised, the homeless and the stateless. Poet Tamilachi Thangapandian is a proof of the statement that ‘poets are mirrors of time’. Her poems convey the conditions of human life realistically without any fiction. ‘Manjanathi’ has highlighted the current state of human life activities through a collection of poems. In particular, this article highlights how urban life has changed human activities and how migration from rural to urban areas has brought about human changes.

To guarantee evacuation time and prevent the spread of fire and the collapse of a building on fire, the main structure is designed based on the fire resistance construction, depending on the number of stories, the purpose, and the scale of the building. Further, the fire resistance construction plan is designed using prescriptive or performance methods. Domestic laws prescribe materials and recommend certain thickness of fire resistance constructions, without considering the fire-resistant performance time. Issues such as over-design or under-design and lack of consideration of the recent technological advancements in construction materials and techniques persist, as considerable time would have elapsed since the enactment of the law. Therefore, the purpose of this study is to make improved modifications to the Building Code for Fire resistance Construction prescribed in Article 3 of the current “Rules for the Standards of Escapes/ Fire-Proof Construction of Buildings and Others.”

The traveltime equation for homogeneous layers with two‐dimensionally dipping interfaces is well known, but it has been proven only for a limited variety of profile geometries. Existing proofs do not necessarily lend themselves to use with other types of profiles, or to extension into three dimensions. When the distance that a ray travels and the elapsed time are decomposed into orthogonal components, and each interaction of the ray and the interface is examined separately, the time contributions for ray travel in the two orthogonal directions can be isolated for ray segments between horizontal planes of reference. The terms in which these contributions are expressed are independent of any part of the structure beyond the ray segment under consideration. Therefore, the total traveltime for a ray can be obtained by simple summation of such contributions. This process represents a new proof of the traveltime equation, but, more importantly, it provides a method for constructing the correct equation for virtually any profile geometry and arrival type, including direct, reflected, and refracted waves as well as converted phases. When the rays and interface normals are treated as three‐dimensional vectors, this proof and method can be extended to three dimensions. The result is a general expression describing point‐to‐point traveltimes for any source‐receiver geometry in structures comprising homogeneous layers with interfaces having arbitrary three‐dimensional dip. Since this equation accurately describes the incremental traveltime for every portion of any propagating wave, nearly any three‐dimensional geometry can be accommodated.

Around 1967 and onwards, Per Højholt (1923-2004) performs a series of punctures in the periphery of a small and self-conscious avant-garde in Denmark - experiments that combine most of the known art forms and genres in a still more active dialogue with new media and technology.One of the first things Højholt engaged himself in at the time was Show-Bix, which is best described as an artist group consisting of the photographer and visual artist Poul Ib Henriksen, composer Gunner Møller Pedersen, and Per Højholt (at the time described largely as a poet). The group was operative from 1968 and until 1971, a period during which it conducted a series of complex experiments involving an audience as well as a media consciousness which is quite unique in Denmark - perhaps even more so today. In fact, I claim that Show-Bix is the visible proof of a paradigmatic change in Per Højholt's artistic practice, as well as in the overall definition of the contemporary art scene.

The rapid growth of Fintech has driven the adoption of blockchain technology for secure, efficient, and tamper-proof digital transactions. However, existing blockchain systems face challenges such as doublespending attacks, inefficient consensus mechanisms, and limited trust management, which hinder their scalability and security. To overcome these issues, this research proposes the Fin Trust Blockchain Framework (FTBF), a multi-layered architecture designed to provide secure, scalable, and transparent solutions for Fintech applications. FTBF integrates Zero Trust Architecture (ZTA) at its core to ensure continuous user, node, and transaction validation. To prevent double-spending attacks, the Dynamic Coin Flow Output Model (DCFOM) tracks unspent transaction outputs, ensuring the uniqueness of digital tokens. The framework also introduces a novel consensus mechanism, the Time Elapsed Stake Secure Algorithm (TESSA), which enhances scalability and energy efficiency. Additionally, the Fair Trust Rating Server (FTRS) dynamically calculates and updates trust scores for network participants, storing them on a trust score ledger for transparency and accountability. FTBF addresses key blockchainsecurity, efficiency, and trust management limitations, paving the way for next-generation Fintech solutions with enhanced scalability, resilience, and transparency.

Background: The social interactions of farm animals affect their performance, health and welfare. This proof-of-concept study addresses, for the first time, the hypothesis that applying social network analysis (SNA) on AI-automated monitoring data could potentially facilitate the analysis of social structures of farm animals. Methods: Data were collected using automated recording systems that captured 2D-camera images and videos of pigs in six pens (16–19 animals each) on a PIC breeding company farm (USA). The system provided real-time data, including ear-tag readings, elapsed time, posture (standing, lying, sitting), and XY coordinates of the shoulder and rump for each pig. Weighted SNA was performed, based on the proximity of “standing” animals, for two 3-day period—the early (first month after mixing) and the later period (60 days post-mixing). Results: Group-level degree, betweenness, and closeness centralization showed a significant increase from the early-growing period to the later one (p < 0.02), highlighting the pigs’ social dynamics over time. Individual SNA traits were stable over these periods, except for the closeness centrality and clustering coefficient, which significantly increased (p < 0.00001). Conclusions: This study demonstrates that combining AI-assisted monitoring technologies with SNA offers a novel approach that can help farmers and breeders in optimizing on-farm management, breeding and welfare practices.

The rapid growth of Fintech has driven the adoption of blockchain technology for secure, efficient, and tamper-proof digital transactions. However, existing blockchain systems face challenges such as double spending attacks, inefficient consensus mechanisms, and limited trust management, which hinder their scalability and security. To overcome these issues, this research proposes the Fin Trust Blockchain Framework (FTBF), a multi-layered architecture designed to provide secure, scalable, and transparent solutions for Fintech applications. FTBF integrates Zero Trust Architecture (ZTA) at its core to ensure continuous user, node, and transaction validation. To prevent double-spending attacks, the Dynamic Coin Flow Output Model (DCFOM) tracks unspent transaction outputs, ensuring the uniqueness of digital tokens. The framework also introduces a novel consensus mechanism, the Time Elapsed Stake Secure Algorithm (TESSA), which enhances scalability and energy efficiency. Additionally, the Fair Trust Rating Server (FTRS) dynamically calculates and updates trust scores for network participants, storing them on a trust score ledger for transparency and accountability. FTBF addresses key blockchain security, efficiency, and trust management limitations, paving the way for next-generation Fintech solutions with enhanced scalability, resilience, and transparency.  

The research aims to discuss how Syed Qutb has done the critical study of Aqqad’s Poetry and how he valued its status in his critical scale. Despite mutual agreement among Poets and Critics over Aqqād’s eminent place in Prose Literature and Criticism, there is a conflict upon his status in the realm of Poetry among Critics. Whereas some of the critics including Marun ‘Abood and Mahmud Mandur consider him an average poet, some others acknowledge his eminent place in the field of Poetry but at the same time they criticise the dominance of thoughts over emotions in his poetry and the leading one among them is his genius and favourite student, Syed Qutb, who availed of his long company. Keeping in view the same, the paper is an endeavour to assess Aqqad’s Poetry on the critical scale of Syed Qutb and specify his status in the Arabic Literature with overwhelming evidence and bright proof mentioned by Syed Qutb to prove his correct stance towards Aqqad’s Poetry. The analytical and critical methodology has been followed throughout the paper.

Secular book printing began to spread in Japan since the beginning of the 17th century. From the middle of the 17th century, woodcut was completely dominant. The repertoire of publications was wide, including old texts written long before the Tokugawa period. Since commercial printing assumed that the book would be bought, only relevant old texts were published. The printed edition significantly expanded the circle of book readers. The Seiashō (Notes by a Frog from a Well) by Tonna (1289–1372) belongs to the karon genre (treatises on poetry) and is a guide for aspiring poets writing waka (Japanese songs). The text was published for the first time in 1648 and the first illustrated edition appeared in 1686, reprinted in 1709. The illustrator is believed to be Hishikawa Moronobu (1618–1694), although the book does not contain the artist’s name. The second illustrated edition dates back to 1752. This edition uses illustrations by Tachibana Morikuni (1679–1748). In both editions, illustrations are made on separate sheets, occupying a whole page. The illustrations are monochrome and include a drawing (a landscape illustrating the text of the poem) and an inscription of the poem at the top. An analysis and comparison of these two editions makes it possible to see some trends related to both printing itself and a number of more general cultural issues. The understanding of authorship receives a “visible” embodiment: in the first edition, neither the author of the text, nor the artist are identified, while the colophon of the second edition contains the names of both. During the time that has elapsed between the release of these two editions, the role of illustrations has grown significantly. The edition from the end of the 17th century contains 24 illustrations, and the book was made in such a way that it can exist in a version without illustrations; there, illustrations play a supporting role. The edition of the mid-18th century contains 80 illustrations, and they can be distributed in the text of the book or concentrated in one place, making this edition close to the ehon books.

Thirty years ago, the Robin Hood collision resolution strategy was introduced for open addressing hash tables, and a recurrence equation was found for the distribution of its search cost. Although this recurrence could not be solved analytically, it allowed for numerical computations that, remarkably, suggested that the variance of the search cost approached a value of 1.883 when the table was full. Furthermore, by using a non-standard mean-centred search algorithm, this would imply that searches could be performed in expected constant time even in a full table.In spite of the time elapsed since these observations were made, no progress has been made in proving them. In this paper we introduce a technique to work around the intractability of the recurrence equation by solving instead an associated differential equation. While this does not provide an exact solution, it is sufficiently powerful to prove a bound of π2/3 for the variance, and thus obtain a proof that the variance of Robin Hood is bounded by a small constant for load factors arbitrarily close to 1. As a corollary, this proves that the mean-centred search algorithm runs in expected constant time.We also use this technique to study the performance of Robin Hood hash tables under a long sequence of insertions and deletions, where deletions are implemented by marking elements as deleted. We prove that, in this case, the variance is bounded by 1/(1−α), where α is the load factor.To model the behaviour of these hash tables, we use a unified approach that we apply also to study the First-Come-First-Served and Last-Come-First-Served collision resolution disciplines, both with and without deletions.

Summary It is an entrenched habit among the critics to connect the early poetry of Tadeusz Różewicz and Tadeusz Borowski’s concentration camp stories. However, this stereotype can be backed by no good proof either in the poems Różewicz wrote in the first years after the war or in their reception. The parallel Różewicz-Borowski was put out into the world by Jan Błoński in his Szkic portretu poety współczesnego [A portrait sketch of a contemporary poet] (1956); at that time the parallel became a handy tool in the battle with Socialist Realist critics and their evaluations of Różewicz’s poetry. The matching of the two authors was made all the more plausible by Różewicz’s comeback during the Polish Thaw. It was manifested not only in a spate of new poems but also in his decisions about the choice of poems representing the postwar phase for publications like Poezje zebrane [Collected Poems] (1957). In essence, the links between Różewicz and Borowski are intertextual. Różewicz must have been familiar with Borowski’s Auschwitz stories, which came as a shock to their first readers, and he would most certainly have read Rudolf Reder’s account of the extermination camp at Bełżec camp. Those two books helped to shape Różewicz’s experience of war that can found in his work.

Secular book printing began to spread in Japan since the beginning of the 17th century. From the middle of the 17th century, woodcut was completely dominant. The repertoire of publications was wide, including old texts written long before the Tokugawa period. Since commercial printing assumed that the book would be bought, only relevant old texts were published. The printed edition significantly expanded the circle of readers of the book. The Seiashō (Notes by a Frog from a Well) by Tonna (1289–1372) belongs to the karon genre (treatises on poetry) and is a guide for aspiring poets writing waka (Japanese songs). The text was published for the first time in 1648 and the first illustrated edition appeared in 1686, reprinted in 1709. The illustrator is considered to be Hishikawa Moronobu (1618–1694), although the book does not contain the artist’s name. The second illustrated edition dates back to 1752. This edition uses illustrations by Tachibana Morikuni (1679–1748). In both editions, illustrations are made on separate sheets, occupying a whole page. The illustrations are monochrome and include a drawing (a landscape illustrating the text of the poem) and an inscription of the poem at the top. An analysis and comparison of these two editions makes it possible to see some trends related to both printing itself and a number of more general cultural issues. The understanding of authorship receives a «visible» embodiment: in the first edition, neither the author of the text, nor the artist are identified, while the colophon of the second edition contains the names of both. During the time that has elapsed between the release of these two editions, the role of illustrations has grown significantly. The edition of the end of the 17th century contains 24 illustrations, and the book was made in such a way that it can exist in a version without illustrations; there, illustrations play a supporting role. The edition of the mid-18th century contains 80 illustrations, and they can be distributed in the text of the book or concentrated in one place, making this edition close to the e-hon books.

Introduction. The fact that Navoi in his works promotes creative ideas that affect all mankind, the fact that the poet's ideas are more important and relevant than ever in today's era of globalization, has led to major research around the world. Know this, all humankind: The greatest curse is enmity; The greatest blessing, amity. We all know the verses by heart. That is, in order for the poet to have peace and tranquility among the people, they must renounce the path of enmity, enmity is not a deed, instead they must be friends with one another. True friendship is a real business. These verses, written before the 6th century, are a vivid proof that Alisher Navoi's poetry and philosophy have stood the test of time and apply equally to the peoples of the world. Research methods. Alisher Navoi's creative heritage has been in the hearts of many readers in different languages for centuries. As a result of many years of research and work of literary critics, poets and writers, the great poet's work is widely promoted around the world, a number of achievements have been achieved. However, we cannot ignore the mistakes and shortcomings in this regard. Results and discussions. The main problem here is that most of the specialists who know Navoi's language and creativity do not know European languages, those who know foreign languages do not know the old Uzbek language or do not feel our classical literature. Therefore, in the study of Navoi's work by foreign scholars, the importance of the poet's work for foreign literature, a serious approach to the issue of foreign translators and researchers of A. Navoi's work, we would like to draw attention to some comments on the subject. Conclusion. A. Navoi's work has a special significance in Uzbek literature, as well as in world literature. The poet’s work has been studied by various scholars for centuries. However, scientific views on A. Navoi were not always correct. In this regard, in this research work, the different opinions of world scholars about the poet, their positive and negative views on the work of the poet are cited and analyzed. The role of Russian, Ukrainian, French, English, German and American scholars in the study of Navoi's works around the world, the factors that stimulated their interest in Oriental literature, in particular, Alisher Navoi's works, works by foreign authors and works inspired by A. Navoi's work along with samples, some information about the manuscripts and lithographs of the great thinker kept in the fund of foreign libraries is the main content of the article.

On 30 July 2013 the Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) submitted a revised discussion draft on transfer pricing aspects of intangibles. As the OECD's work on intangibles is specifically listed as an item in the OECD's Action Plan relating to Base Erosion and Profit Shifting (BEPS), the OECD makes it clear that the revised discussion draft on transfer pricing aspects of intangibles should be considered as work in process that may be further revised during the course of the work on BEPS. Although the period for interested parties to provide written comments has elapsed, the OECD might well be interested in further comments. This should hold all the more as the time period since the introduction of the revised discussion draft allows these new rules to be tested out with regard to their practical feasibility and enforceability ('the proof of the pudding is in the eating'). On this note, this article on 'transfer pricing of intangibles in cases of post-merger reorganization' looks into the relevant guidance from the revised discussion draft and analyses the extent to which the OECD's revised discussion draft serves to resolve the issues of a typical tax audit case dealing with a post-acquisition transfer of intangible assets. The analysis may indicate that the revised discussion draft lacks particular guidance on the treatment of goodwill and other special characteristics that deserve particular attention in a comparability analysis. Revision is also needed with respect to the OECD's considerations on uncertainty of future developments that can affect the application of valuation techniques to the hypothetical arm's length price.

The article continues its examination of one of the memorial articles by Liudmila Shestakova (1816–1906). The analysis of the correlation of her memoirs of her brother with his own personal self-perception, his compositional and public activities prove the following: Shestakova was very subjective in her description of the last years of the life of a person who was close to her. At the center of our attention is Shestakova’s assertion of the “fading” of Glinka’s musical talent, his limited creative activities and the wish to withdraw from music entirely, which manifested itself in him from time to time. The sources for such a perspective are analyzed. Parallels are traced with the attitude of society towards the late stage of Alexander Pushkin’s evolution as a poet and artist. Shestakova’s perspective of Glinka’s milieu is examined. Special attention is paid to the analysis of the document sent to Shestakova by Siegfried Wilhelm Dehn. Proof is provided that Shestakova’s memoirs presented in the article had been conducive in no small degree to the formation of the myth of the barrenness of the last stage of Glinka’s music, which has survived to a considerable degree up to our days. The attempt of reconstruction of Glinka’s activities after a decade and a half after his demise was the result of the subjective view of Glinka’s sister on the composer’s legacy during the final years of his life, which created an impact on Glinka studies in Russia during the 19th and 20th centuries.

16023 Background: Women report waiting for a breast biopsy result as a time of psychological distress. Waiting also delays entry into definitive oncology care, and patients in underserved communities may be lost to follow up. In this proof-of-concept demonstration, an Expedited Breast Care (EBC) clinic was developed to give patients the opportunity to receive same-day biopsy results. Methods: Patients requiring core breast biopsy at a community hospital were approached sequentially to participate. Following surgical biopsy, tissue underwent ultra-rapid fixation and processing. After paraffin sections were prepared and stained, the glass histopathology slides were imaged with a virtual slide scanner. Digital images were stored on a server and viewed on the Internet by a telepathologist at a tertiary care center. Light microscopy review was concurrently performed as the gold standard. After telepathology review and light microscopy confirmation, patients presented to the telemedicine suite to receive biopsy results. A teleoncologist at the tertiary care center presented all pathology results to the patient, whether benign or malignant. Time and patient satisfaction data were collected. Results: Nine patients have participated. Within 2 hours from the time the tissue arrived at the laboratory, digital images were available to the telepathologist. The teleoncologist presented results to patients within 3–5 hours after the biopsy procedure. Patients reported satisfaction with the same-day service, and stated they would seek EBC again in the event of a future breast biopsy. Many patients expressed relief at receiving results so promptly and felt they had avoided the stress of waiting longer for results. The elapsed time from mammogram to definitive oncology care was shorter for EBC patients compared to a control group of patients at a clinic not offering EBC, although the results did not reach statistical significance (Mann-Whitney U: Z = −1.804, p = 0.0713). Conclusions: These data indicate EBC can be successfully accomplished. Current studies to assess EBC’s role in facilitating prompt entry into definitive oncology care are underway. By incorporating rapid tissue processing with telepathology and teleoncology, EBC can improve access to breast care in underserved areas. [Table: see text]

288 Background: Access to qualified genetics specialists continues to be a barrier for patients in rural settings. Our institution aimed to develop a proof-of-concept telehealth program that supports the vision of transforming the way healthcare is delivered specific to Idaho. Methods: Based on a needs assessment with 40 direct caregivers the program was designed to eliminate inconsistency and variation through the system and expand the specialty care footprint from the tertiary care hospital. To gain traction, specific areas (genetic counseling and nutritional counseling) were identified that could move forward with telehealth. This small-scale implementation could be rapidly executed using few system resources while providing feedback for future refinement and expansion. Technology needs included, Microsoft Lync, a HD web camera, USB speaker/microphone, dual monitors, and a document camera to be added to workstations for the provider. A transportable cart with computer and dual monitor workstation was assembled for the outreach site with the same technology components. The metrics chosen to track the benefits of this service included: provider travel time and costs, elapsed time from referral to first scheduled appointment, comparison of patient volumes, and patient satisfaction. Satisfaction measures were collected by written questionnaires and interviews with the patient. Results: During a 3-month period 23 genetic counseling appointments were conducted by telehealth. This resulted in a savings of $1050.63 in mileage and travel wages and 13.5 travel hours. Wait times for appointments dropped from 23 days to 16 days, and appointment volumes increased from 6/month to 8/month. Access to services increased from 8 hours per month to 16 variable hours per month with the availability of immediate needs appointments. Patient scores (N=12) demonstrated “Excellent” ratings (5/5) in the following: 83% satisfaction using the telehealth cart, 83% likelihood to use telehealth again, and 92% recommend telehealth to a friend. Conclusions: Improved convenience, access, and cost savings while providing high quality care were maintained using telehealth. Expansion of the program to another outreach site has already been approved by leadership.

Collisions of over-height vehicles with low clearance bridges is commonly encountered worldwide. They have caused damage to bridge structures, interruption to traffic, injuries or even fatalities to road users. To mitigate such risks, passive systems that involve warning gantries, flashing lights and illuminated signage are commonly installed. Semi-active systems using laser- or infrared-based detection systems in conjunction with visual warnings have been implemented. Nevertheless, some drivers ignore these visual warnings and collisions continue to occur. This paper presents a novel concept for a collision prevention system, which makes use of a series of sensor-activated, motorized rumble strips. These rumble strips span across a certain distance ahead of a low clearance bridge. When an over-height vehicle is detected, a mechanism is triggered which elevates the rumble strips. The noise and vibrations produce a vigorous alert to the offending driver. They also increase effective friction of the road surface, thus assisting to slow down the vehicle and shorten the stopping distance. The strips will be lowered after a certain time has elapsed, thus minimizing their effects on other vehicles. This article presents a conceptual framework and quantifies the vibration and noise caused by rumble strips in road tests. Road tests indicated that the vibration level typically exceeded 1 g and noise level reached approximately 90 dB in the cabin of a 3.5-ton truck. Fabrication of a proof-of-concept mechanized rumble strip model was presented and verified in an outdoor environment. The circuitry and mechanical design, and requirements in actual implementation, are discussed. The proposed event-triggered rumble strip system could significantly mitigate over-height vehicle collisions that cause major disruptions and injuries worldwide. Further works, including a comprehensive road test involving various types of vehicles, are envisaged.

Ibn Battuta was a famous Muslim traveler and jurist in the 14th century because he was known as the greatest adventurer of pre-modern times. The story of his fantastic journey made the Western world respect him as the "Marco Polo of the Muslim World". Ibn Battuta was also a famous Arab poet of his time with his adventures to various corners of the world. The method used in this research is literature study, namely by adjusting research variables to research that is relevant to this study. The results of the research show that the traces of his travel steps have become proof of his reliability as a traveler. One of his works which contains the story of his journey is written in his work entitled Tuḥfatun iNuẓẓār ifī iGharāʾibil iAmṣār iwa iAjāʾibil Asfār which was compiled by Ibnu Juzay, but is often simply called Ar-Rihlah Ibnu Battuta. In his work, Ibnu Battuta wrote down various things he encountered in every city or region he visited, so that he could observe and understand every socio-cultural condition of the local people themselves. With the many places he has visited, it is no longer surprising that he has made a major contribution to various sciences, especially geography, because it was the journey he undertook that ultimately opened up new travel routes and introduced that humans living in this world have a diversity of cultures and social conditions. - particularly in Indonesia, the contribution of this research is to describe Ibn Battuta's journey so that it can become a study and example for all readers in social life.

Objective: To develop and evaluate a practical automatic treatment planning method for intensity-modulated radiation therapy (IMRT) in cervical cancer cases. Methods: A novel algorithm named as Optimization Objectives Tree Search Algorithm (OOTSA) was proposed to emulate the planning optimization process and achieve a progressively improving IMRT plan, based on the Eclipse Scripting Application Programming Interface (ESAPI). 30 previously treated cervical cancer cases were selected from the clinical database and comparison was made between the OOTSA-generated plans and clinical treated plans and RapidPlan-based (RP) plans. Results: In clinical evaluation, compared with plan scores of the clinical plans and the RP plans, 22 and 26 of the OOTSA plans were considered as clinically improved in terms of plan quality, respectively. The average conformity index (CI) for the PTV in the OOTSA plans was 0.86 ± 0.01 (mean ± 1 standard deviation), better than those in the RP plans (0.83 ± 0.02) and the clinical plans (0.71 ± 0.11). Compared with the clinical plans, the mean doses of femoral head, rectum, spinal cord and right kidney in the OOTSA plans were reduced by 2.34 ± 2.87 Gy, 1.67 ± 2.10 Gy, 4.12 ± 6.44 Gy and 1.15 ± 2.67 Gy. Compared with the RP plans, the mean doses of femoral head, spinal cord, right kidney and small intestine in the OOTSA plans were reduced by 3.31 ± 1.55 Gy, 4.25 ± 3.69 Gy, 1.54 ± 2.23 Gy and 3.33 ± 1.91 Gy, respectively. In the OOTSA plans, the mean dose of bladder was slightly increased, with 2.33 ± 2.55 Gy (versus clinical plans) and 1.37 ± 1.74 Gy (vs RP plans). The average elapsed time of OOTSA and clinical planning were 59.2 ± 3.47 min and 76.53 ± 5.19 min. Conclusion: The plans created by OOTSA have been shown marginally better than the manual plans, especially in preserving OARs. In addition, the time of automatic treatment planning has shown a reduction compared to a manual planning process, and the variation of plan quality was greatly reduced. Although improvement on the algorithm is warranted, this proof-of-concept study has demonstrated that the proposed approach can be a practical solution for automatic planning. Advances in knowledge: The proposed method is novel in the emulation strategy of the physicists’ iterative operation during the planning process. Based on the existing optimizers, this method can be a simple yet effective solution for automated IMRT treatment planning.

Mir Bozhiy (God’s World) magazine is justly attributed to the lead periodicals of the p lutionary Russia. It came out in 1892-1906. During that relatively short period, it managed to win well-deserved respect and popularity among its readers. The circulation of 18 thousand issues in its best years is a perfect proof. No other classical fat magazine had such a wide circulation. At first, Mir Bozhiy was considered a specialized edition for young audience. That was the reason for its religious name referring at a young soul exploring the world of the God. However, very soon it turned into a magazine for wider public and readers of different ages. Already one year after it was first published, its cover had the subtitle complimented with a note «for self-education». Mir Bozhiy became a magazine for family reading replacing books, schoolbooks and encyclopaedias.Its readers had all reasons to love the magazine. Published works of literature — poems, stories, and novels stood out with their high literary level; and scientific reviews represented thorough analytical studies that contained brave and original conclusion. Contributors of the content included the authors who made Russian poetry and literature shine such as Dmitriy Merezhkovskiy, Ivan Bunin, Dmitriy Mamin-Sibiryak, Alexander Kuprin and others.Exceptional articles came out from the philosophers Sergey Bulgakov, Nikolay Berdyayev, the economist Mikhail Tuhan-Baranovskiy, publishers Pavel Milyukov and Nikolay Iordanskiy, historian Vasily Klyuchevskiy. Articles about music and arts were also frequent in the magazine.Remarkable publications of the magazine became possible thanks to the high professionalism of its staff members who had literary talents and deep scientific knowledge. One of them, Angel Bogdanovich, was not only an outstanding editor but also an excellent publisher. The real masters of literary translation were Lidia Tuhan-Baranovskaya and Maria Kuprina-Iordanskaya, her first husband was the writer Alexander Kuprin, the head of the magazine’s fiction department. Finally, the magazine’s chief editor Fyodor Batyushkov who was the descendant of the famous Russian poet significantly contributed to the success of the magazine.Though, in 1906 due to the political situation, the «harmful magazine» as considered by the censors was closed, publications of the Mir Bozhiy continued influencing the development of Russian literature, science and culture for a long time.

The cognitive theory of metaphor (Lakoff and Johnson, 1980; Lakoff, 1987; Lakoff and Turner, 1989) is the basis in this article for investigating the significance of the use of mathematical language, and in particular of the metaphor to square the circle in Margaret Cavendish's poem The Circle of the Brain Cannot be Squared. In the article I begin by introducing Margaret Cavendish as the first 17th-century female poet writing on scientific topics. I then explain how mathematics in the 17th century influenced people's view of reality and the extent to which this is mirrored in poetic language. The theory of cognitive metaphor provides the framework for the elucidation of mathematical concepts used to explain 'unknown' realities like mind and emotions and, in particular, of the central metaphor to square the circle in Cavendish's poem. A brief overview of the criteria of Lakoff and colleagues for analysing metaphors shows that the apparently extravagant metaphor to square the circle was simply a novel poetic extension of the conceptual metaphor UNIVERSE IS MATHEMATICS that, like other types of metaphors considered by cognitive linguists, is grounded in everyday experience. Further, Werth's (1994) remarks about the reasons behind the poet's use of particular concepts to explain others help highlight another important aspect at the basis of the production of novel metaphors, namely that of 'poetic choice'. Finally, I elaborate on Werth's remarks by drawing attention to what I term cultural choice, that is, to the influence that common knowledge and beliefs shared by the members of a linguistic community exert on the poet's choice of metaphors. The analysis of the poem shows that the topic and language of the poem, as well as the subtext, that is, the length of lines and the stanza form, depend on metaphoric projections from the domain MATHEMATICS. Through the conceptual metaphor NATURE IS MATHEMATICS, Cavendish explains man's attempt to take control over irrationalia such as fancy and female nature. The impossibility of squaring the circle is used as a proof to demonstrate that nature and fancy cannot be restricted and, at the same time, to give Cavendish a hope of acceptance in the male-dominated world.

12019 Background: Opioid misuse is a public health crisis. Initial opioid exposures often occur post-operatively, and 10% of opioid-naïve patients who undergo cancer surgery subsequently become long-term opioid users. It has been shown that 70% of opioids prescribed post-operatively go unused, but only 9% of unused pills are disposed of appropriately, which increases the risk of unintended use. We evaluated the impact of an inexpensive, password-protected pill-dispensing device with mail return capacity on disposal of unused pills after cancer surgery. Methods: We conducted a prospective, proof-of-concept pilot study among adult patients scheduled for major cancer-related surgery. Enrolled patients received opioid prescriptions in a pill-dispensing device (Addinex) from a specialty pharmacy. The mechanical device linked to a smartphone app, which provided passwords on a prescriber-defined schedule. Patients were able to enter unique passwords into the device to receive their pills if the prescribed time had elapsed. The smartphone app provided clinical guidance based on patient-reported pain levels, and suggested tapering strategies. Patients were instructed to return the device in a DEA-approved mailer when opioid use was no longer required for acute pain control. Unused pills were destroyed upon receipt. The primary objective was to determine the feasibility of device return, defined as > 50% within 6 weeks. We also explored total pill use and return, patterns of device use and patient satisfaction. Results: We enrolled 30 patients between October 2020 and December 2021. The median age was 46 (range 29–72). Surgical procedures included abdominal hysterectomy (13), mastectomy and reconstruction (10), and soft tissue tumor resections (7). Overall, the majority of participants (n = 24, 80%) returned the device, and more than half (n = 17, 57%) returned the device within 6 weeks of surgery. There were 19 patients who obtained opioids from the device. Among these patients, the majority were satisfied with the device (n = 14, 74%); felt the benefits of the device justified the added steps involved (n = 14, 74%); and would sign up to receive opioids in the device again (n = 13, 68%). The other 11 patients used no opioids. None of these non-users reported any opioid requirements for pain control, and all but one (n = 10, 91%) returned the device and unused pills. In total, 567 opioids were prescribed, and 170 (30%) were used. Of the 397 excess pills, 332 (84% of unused pills, 59% of all pills prescribed) were returned by mail. Conclusions: We found that use of an inexpensive pill-dispensing device with mail return capacity was a feasible and effective strategy to enhance disposal of unused post-operative opioids. Interestingly, a substantial number of prescribed pills were unused. This system also improves confidence with indicated opioid use while reducing diversion.

Udmurt lullabies are divided into two different musical and stylistic groups. The first one, similar to many Finno-Ugric peoples, includes improvised songs - the most archaic layer of song folklore. Improvised Udmurt lullabies are various rhythmic and melodic intonations that are meant to soothe or put the child to sleep. However, the singers I met during fieldwork often sang another lullaby based on the verse of G.E. Vereshchagin, “Chagyr, chagyr dydyke...” (Blue, blue pigeon…). All the variants of this lullaby form the second group. That lullaby has been recorded throughout Udmurtia, almost supplanting local improvised lullabies. Musical analysis of the lullaby “Chagyr, chagyr dydyke...” has shown that, unlike improvised lullabies, this tune belongs to a late music style. The lyrics of the lullaby attracted the attention of philologists and literary critics, who tried to clarify the authorship of the verse. The verse “Chagyr, chagyr dydyke...” was published by the Udmurt writer and ethnographer Vereshchagin in 1889. The heated discussion around the problem of Vereshchagin’s authorship, which unfolded later on, lasted for several decades. Udmurt folklorist T. G. Vladykina put an end to the dispute, concluding that the author of the lullaby was Vereshchagin. As proof of his authorship, the researcher presented several convincing arguments, including the peculiarities of the functioning of this tune in the tradition (“memorized song”) and the strophic form with cross-rhyme, not typical of Udmurt ritual song folklore. Vereshchagin’s verses spread among people thanks to the Udmurt scholar, poet, and musician Kusebai Gerd. Gerd published this verse several times under the authorship of Vereshchagin, adding the refrain “Iz, iz, nunye, zarni bugore!” (Sleep, sleep, my child, golden ball!) after each stanza and replacing some words. In this version, the lullaby spread throughout Udmurtia. While in philological disputes the points of view of different parties are known, in ethnomusicology the problem of music authorship has not even been raised yet. The music was considered folk or attributed to Vereshchagin. The first musical notation of the lullaby with Vereshchagin’s lyrics was published in 1925, in a collection of Udmurt songs by Mikhail Romanov, who was a teacher at the Glazov Pedagogical Technical School. Apparently, he recorded it from his students, then reworked it for a four-voice choir. The lullaby was sung all over Udmurtia at that time. It was also sung by Gerd, who had a good voice and musical education. It can be assumed that Kusebai Gerd composed the melody to the verse of Vereshchagin. The fate of the verse “Chagyr, chagyr dydyke...” turned out to be fortunate. Vereshchagin nominated it as a lullaby song heard from an Udmurt woman “laying her child down”. And it really turned into a folk song, acquired its own melody, becoming known in every Udmurt village. Thus, in the Udmurt folklore genre system the author’s work acquired the legal status as an autonomous folklore unit, practically supplanting lullaby improvisations.

A Rooted Man and a Sacred PoetBy Viggo MortensenA Review of A.M. Allchin: N.F.S. Grundtvig. An Introduction to his Life and Work. With an afterword by Nicholas Lossky. 338 pp. Writings published by the Grundtvig Society, Århus University Press, 1997.Canon Arthur Macdonald Allchin’s services to Grundtvig research are wellknown to the readers of Grundtvig Studier, so I shall not attempt to enumerate them. But he has now presented us and the world with a brilliant synthesis of his studies of Grundtvig, a comprehensive, thorough and fundamental introduction to Grundtvig, designed for the English-speaking world. Fortunately, the rest of us are free to read as well.It has always been a topic of discussion in Denmark whether Grundtvig can be translated, whether he can be understood by anyone except Danes who have imbibed him with their mother’s milk, so to speak. Allchin is an eloquent proof that it can be done. Grundtvig can be translated and he can be made comprehensible to people who do not belong in Danish culture only, and Allchin spells out a recipe for how it can be done. What is required is for one to enter Grundtvig’s universe, but to enter it as who one is, rooted in one’s own tradition. That is what makes Allchin’s book so exciting and innovative - that he poses questions to Grundtvig’s familiar work from the vantage point of the tradition he comes from, thus opening it up in new and surprising ways.The terms of the headline, »a rooted man« and »a sacred poet« are used about Grundtvig in the book, but they may in many ways be said to describe Allchin, too. He, too, is rooted in a tradition, the Anglican tradition, but also to a large extent the tradition taken over from the Church Fathers as it lives on in the Orthodox Church. Calling him a sacred poet may be going too far.Allchin does not write poetry, but he translates Grundtvig’s prose and poetry empathetically, even poetically, and writes a beautiful and easily understood English.Allchin combines the empathy with the distance necessary to make a renewed and renewing reading so rewarding: »Necessarily things are seen in a different perspective when they are seen from further away. It may be useful for those whose acquaintance with Grundtvig is much closer, to catch a glimpse of his figure as seen from a greater distance« (p. 5). Indeed, it is not only useful, it is inspiring and capable of opening our eyes to new aspects of Grundtvig.The book falls into three main sections. In the first section an overview of Grundtvig’s life and work is given. It does not claim to be complete which is why Allchin only speaks about »Glimpses of a Life«, the main emphasis being on the decisive moments of Grundtvig’s journey to himself. In five chapters, Grundtvig’s way from birth to death is depicted. The five chapters cover: Childhood to Ordination 1783-1811; Conflict and Vision 1811-29; New Directions, Inner and Outer 1829-39; Unexpected Fulfilment 1839-58; and Last Impressions 1858-72. As it will have appeared, Allchin does not follow the traditional division, centred around the familiar years. On the contrary, he is critical of the attempts to focus everything on such »matchless discoveries«; rather than that he tends to emphasize the continuity in the person’s life as well as in his writings. Thus, about Thaning’s attempt to make 1832 the absolute pivotal year it is said: »to see this change as an about turn is mistaken« (p. 61).In the second main section of the book Allchin identifies five main themes in Grundtvig’s work: Discovering the Church; The Historic Ministry; Trinity in Unity; The Earth made in God’s Image; A simple, cheerful, active Life on Earth. It does not quite do Allchin justice to say that he deals with such subjects as the Church, the Office, the Holy Trinity, and Creation theology.His own subtitles, mentioned above, are much more adequate indications of the content of the section, since they suggest the slight but significant differences of meaning that Allchin masters, and which are immensely enlightening.It also becomes clear that it is Grundtvig as a theologian that is the centre of interest, though this does not mean that his work as educator of the people, politician, (history) scholar, and poet is neglected. It adds a wholeness to the presentation which I find valuable.The third and longest section of the book, The Celebration of Faith, gives a comprehensive introduction to Grundtvig’s understanding of Christianity, as it finds expression in his sermons and hymns. The intention here is to let Grundtvig speak for himself. This is achieved through translations of many of his hymns and long extracts from his sermons. Allchin says himself that if there is anything original about his book, it depends on the extensive use of the sermons to illustrate Grundtvig’s understanding of Christianity. After an introduction, Eternity in Time, the exposition is arranged in the pattern of the church year: Advent, Christmas, Annunciation, Easter and Whitsun.In the section about the Annunciation there is a detailed description of the role played by the Virgin Mary and women as a whole in Grundtvig’s understanding of Christianity. He finishes the section by quoting exhaustively from the Catholic theologian Charles Moeller and his views on the Virgin Mary, bearing the impress of the Second Vatican Council, and he concludes that in all probability Grundtvig would not have found it necessary to disagree with such a Reformist Catholic view. Finally there are two sections about The Sign of the Cross and The Ministry of Angels. The book ends with an epilogue, where Allchin sums up in 7 points what modem features he sees in Gmndtvig.Against the fragmented individualism of modem times, he sets Gmndtvig’s sense of cooperation and interdependence. In a world plagued with nationalism, Gmndtvig is seen as an example of one who takes national identity seriously without lapsing into national chauvinism. As one who values differences, Grundtvig appeals to a time that cherishes special traditions.Furthermore Gmndtvig is one of the very greatest ecumenical prophets of the 19th century. In conclusion Allchin translates »Alle mine Kilder« (All my springs shall be in you), »Øjne I var lykkelige« (Eyes you were blessed indeed) and »Lyksaligt det Folk, som har Øre for Klang« (How blest are that people who have an ear for the sound). Thus, in a sense, these hymns become the conclusion of the Gmndtvig introduction. The point has been reached when they can be sung with understanding.While reading Allchin’s book it has been my experience that it is from his interpretation of the best known passages and poems that I have learned most. The familiar stanzas which one has sung hundreds of times are those which one is quite suddenly able to see new aspects in. When, for example, Allchin interprets »Langt højere Bjerge« (Far Higher Mountains), involving Biblical notions of the year of jubilee, it became a new and enlightening experience for me. But the Biblical reference is characteristic. A Biblical theologian is at work here.Or when he interprets »Et jævnt og muntert virksomt Liv paa Jord« (A Simple Cheerful Active Life on Earth), bringing Holger Kjær’s memorial article for Ingeborg Appel into the interpretation. In less than no time we are told indirectly that the most precise understanding of what a simple, cheerful, active life on earth is is to be found in Benedict of Nursia’s monastic mle.That, says Allchin, leads us to the question »where we are to place the Gmndtvigian movement in the whole spectmm of Christian movements of revival which are characteristic of Protestantism« (p. 172). Then - in a comparison with revival movements of a Pietistic and Evangelical nature – Allchin proceeds to give a description of a Grundtvigianism which is culturally open, but nevertheless has close affinities with a medieval, classical, Western monastic tradition: a theocentric humanism. »It is one particular way of knitting together the clashing archetypes of male and female, human and divine, in a renunciation of evil and an embracing of all which is good and on the side of life, a way of making real in the frailties and imperfections of flesh and blood a deeply theocentric humanism« (p. 173).Now, there is a magnificent English sentence. And there are many of them. Occasionally some of the English translations make the reader prick up his ears, such as when Danish »gudelige forsamlinger« becomes »meetings of the godly«. I learnt a few new words, too (»niggardliness« and »esemplastic«) the meaning of which I had to look up; but that is only to be expected from a man of learning like Allchin. But otherwise the book is written in an easily understood and beautiful English. This is also true of the large number of translations, about which Allchin himself says that he has been »tantalised and at times tormented« by the problems connected with translating Grundtvig, particularly, of course, his poetry. Naturally Allchin is fully aware that translation always involves interpretation. When for example he translates Danish »forklaret« into »transfigured«, that choice pulls Grundtvig theologically in the direction that Allchin himself inclines towards. This gives the reader occasion to reflect. It is Allchin’s hope that his work on translating Grundtvig will be followed up by others. »To translate Grundtvig in any adequate way would be the work of not one person but of many, not of one effort but of many. I hope that this preliminary study may set in train a process of Grundtvig assimilation and affirmation« (p. 310)Besides being an introduction to Grundtvig, the book also becomes an introduction to past and contemporary Danish theology and culture. But contemporary Danish art, golden age painting etc. are also brought in and interpreted.As a matter of course, Allchin draws on the whole of the great Anglo-Saxon tradition: Blake, Constable, Eliot, etc., indeed, there are even quite frequent references to Allchin’s own Welsh tradition. In his use of previous secondary literature, Allchin is very generous, quoting it frequently, often concurring with it, and sometimes bringing in half forgotten contributions to the literature on Grundtvig, such as Edvard Lehmann’s book from 1929. However, he may also be quite sharp at times. Martin Marty, for example, must endure being told that he has not understood Grundtvig’s use of the term folkelig.Towards the end of the book, Allchin discusses the reductionist tactics of the Reformers. Anything that is not absolutely necessary can be done away with. Thus, what remains is Faith alone, Grace alone, Christ alone. The result was a radical Christ monism, which ended up with undermining everything that it had originally been the intention to defend. But, says Allchin, Grundtvig goes the opposite way. He does not question justification by faith alone, but he interprets it inclusively. The world in all its plenitude is created in order that joy may grow. There is an extravagance and an exuberance in the divine activity. In a theology that wants to take this seriously, themes like wonder, growth and joy must be crucial.Thus, connections are also established back to the great church tradition. It is well-known how Grundtvig received decisive inspiration from the Fathers of the Eastern Church. Allchin’s contribution is to show that it grows out of a need by Grundtvig himself, and he demonstrates how it manifests itself concretely in Grundtvig’s writings. »Perhaps he had a deep personal need to draw on the wisdom and insight of earlier ages, on the qualities which he finds in the sacred poetry of the Anglo-Saxons, in the liturgical hymns of the Byzantine Church, in the monastic theology of the early medieval West. He needs these resources for his own life, and he is able to transpose them into his world of the nineteenth century, which if it is no longer our world is yet a world in which we can still feel at home. He can be for us a vital link, a point of connection with these older worlds whose riches he had deciphered and transcribed with such love and labour« (p. 60).Thus the book gives us a discussion - more detailed than seen before – of Grundtvig’s relationship to the Apostolic Succession, the sacramental character of the Church and Ordination, and the phenomenon transfiguration which is expounded, partly by bringing in Jakob Knudsen. On the background of the often observed emphasis laid by Grundtvig on the descent into Hell and the transfiguration, his closeness to the orthodox form of Christianity is established. Though Grundtvig does not directly use the word »theosis« or deification, the heart of the matter is there, the matter that has been given emphasis first and foremost in the bilateral talks between the Finnish Lutheran Church and the Russian Orthodox Church. But Grundtvig’s contribution is also seen in the context of other contemporaries and reforming efforts, Khomiakov in Russia, Johann Adam Möhler in Germany, and Keble, Pusey and Newman in England. It is one of Allchin’s major regrets that it did not come to an understanding between the leaders of the Oxford Movement and Grundtvig. If an actual meeting and a fruitful dialogue had materialized, it might have exerted some influence also on the ecumenical situation of today.Allchin shows how the question of the unity of the Church and its universality as God’s Church on earth acquired extreme importance to Grundtvig. »The question of rediscovering Christian unity became a matter of life and death« (p. 108). It is clear that in Allchin’s opinion there has been too little attention on this aspect of Grundtvig. Among other things he attributes it to a tendency in the Danish Church to cut itself off from the rest of the Christian world, because it thinks of itself as so special. And this in a sense is the case, says Allchin. »Where else, at the end of the twentieth century, is there a Church which is willing that a large part of its administration should be carried on by a government department? Where else is there a state which is still willing to take so much responsibility for the administration of the Church’s life?« (p. 68). As will be seen: Allchin is a highly sympathetic, but far from uncritical observer of Danish affairs.When Allchin sees Grundtvig as an ecumenical theologian, it is because he keeps crossing borders between Protestantism and Catholicism, between eastern and western Christianity. His view of Christianity is thus »highly unitive« (p. 310). Grundtvig did pioneer work to break through the stagnation brought on by the church schisms of the Reformation. »If we can see his efforts in that way, then the unfinished business of 1843 might still give rise to fruitful consequences one hundred and fifty years later. That would be a matter of some significance for the growth of the Christian faith into the twentyfirst century, and not only in England and Denmark« (p. 126).In Nicholas Lossky’s Afterword it is likewise Grundtvig’s effort as a bridge builder between the different church groupings that is emphasized. Grundtvig’s theology is seen as a »truly patristic approach to the Christian mystery« (p. 316). Thus Grundtvig becomes a true all-church, universal, »catholic« theologian, for »Catholicity is by definition unity in diversity or diversity in unity« (p. 317).With views like those presented here, Allchin has not only introduced Grundtvig and seen him in relation to present-day issues, but has also fruitfully challenged a Danish Grundtvig tradition and Grundtvigianism. It would be a pity if no one were to take up that challenge.

Consensus mechanisms play a critical role in blockchain networks, ensuring that all participants agree on the state of the distributed ledger. However, existing consensus mechanisms have limitations in terms of efficiency, security, and decentralization. In this research paper, we propose a Hybrid Consensus Mechanism (HCM) that combines the advantages of Delegated Proof of Stake (DPoS), Practical Byzantine Fault Tolerance (PBFT), and Proof of Elapsed Time (PoET) to address these limitations. HCM uses a set of trusted validators (delegates) similar to DPoS, who participate in a PBFT-like consensus protocol to reach agreement on the state of the ledger. PoET is used to randomly select the leader for each consensus round, preventing the concentration of power. HCM also introduces a dynamic delegation mechanism and sharding technique to enhance fairness, resilience, and scalability in blockchain networks. We provide detailed technical insights, backed by underlying data, to illustrate the effectiveness of HCM in achieving efficient and secure consensus.

ABSTRACTThe rapid advancement of financial technology (FinTech) has led to the integration of advanced technologies like data science, blockchain, cloud computing, and artificial intelligence. However, trust evaluation remains a critical challenge in dynamic landscape. Existing trust evaluation methods often neglect key aspects of timeliness, reliability, and non‐invasiveness, leading to imprecise trust assessments and insufficient detection of malicious user behavior. This paper introduces a robust four‐layer architectural framework with the blockchain layer, edge computing service layer, cloud computing service layer, and terminal user application layer leveraging blockchain technology for authentication and trust evaluation. Blockchain technology transforms FinTech data into linked data, ensuring data security and decentralization during information transfers. A novel hybrid consensus protocol combining Proof of Elapsed Time (PoET) and Proof of Stake (PoS) is introduced to enhance the efficiency and security of the blockchain. Extensive simulation experiments have demonstrated significant improvements in data security, reliability, and accuracy of trust assessments compared to existing methods. This paper presents a comprehensive solution for enhancing trust evaluation in FinTech, emphasizing timeliness, reliability, and non‐invasiveness of assessments.

Abstract The vital dependence of peer to peer (P2P) energy trading frameworks on creative Internet of Things (IoT) has been making it more vulnerable against a wide scope of attacks and performance bottlenecks like low throughput, high latency, high CPU, memory use, etc. This hence compromises the energy exchanging information to store, share, oversee, and access. Blockchain innovation as a feasible solution, works with the rule of untrusted members. To alleviate this threat and performance issues, this paper presents a Blockchain based Confidential Consortium (CoCo) P2P energy trading system that works on the trust issues among the energy exchanging networks and limits performance parameters. It reduces the duplicate validation by creating a trusted network on nodes, where participants identities are known and controlled. A Java-script-based smart contract is sent over the Microsoft CoCo system with Proof of Elapsed Time (PoET) consensus protocol. Also, a functional model is designed for the proposed framework and the performance bench-marking has been done considering about latency, throughput, transaction rate control, success and fail transaction, CPU and memory usage, network traffic. Additionally, it is shown that PoET’s performance is superior to proof of work (PoW) for multi-hosting conditions. The measured throughput and latency moving toward database speeds with more flexible, business-specific confidentiality models, network policy management through distributed governance, support for non-deterministic transactions, and reduced energy consumption.

In this paper, a proof-of-concept study is performed to validate the algorithmic auditing of Facebook News Feed. We tracked and documented public or otherwise known changes to the algorithms through Facebook public announcements, industry research, and information leaked to the press to parametrize a model that accounts for the variation in user engagement with Guardian news articles. To this end, we queried the Guardian API to collate a database of all Guardian articles published between 2010 and 2020 and subsequently queried the CrowdTangle API to retrieve Facebook engagement metrics for Guardian articles. We modeled this time series using time series analysis, including cross-correlation, anomaly detection, and granger causality tests to examine the relationship between changes to Facebook News Feed and engagement with Guardian articles over the past decade. Our results show that hard news items, particularly those classified in the section ‘News’ by the Guardian API, are significantly more likely to have been impacted by changes made to the News Feed Algorithm in the period. We conclude with a discussion on the asymmetric power exerted by social platforms on news organizations and the elapsed effects of algorithmic changes to website traffic, business models, and editorial decision-making in the news industry.

AbstractThe significance or vacuity of the statement, “Everything has just doubled in size,” attracted considerable attention last century from scientists and philosophers. Presenting his conventionalism in geometry, Poincaré insisted on the emptiness of a hypothesis that all objects have doubled in size overnight. Such expansion could have meaning, he argued, “only for those who reason as if space were absolute … it would be better to say that space being relative, nothing at all has happened.” The logical empiricists concurred, viewing the universal doubling hypothesis as illustrating the intrinsic metrical amorphousness of continuous manifolds. It is striking, therefore, to find Kant invoking a universal contraction in space and time to support his famous doctrine of transcendental idealism. In one of several completely neglected passages, he writes: “The proof that the things in space and time are mere appearances can also be grounded on the fact that the whole world could be contained in a nutshell and the entirety of elapsed time in a second without the least difference being met with.” Kant's “also” may suggest an idealist argument distinct from any proposed in published works. Here I ask: What is the meaning of Kant's Nutshell Argument for Idealism?

In spite of the long period of time that has elapsed since monster first appeared in English and Arabic literature, monsters still have both remarkable and effective roles in their literary texts. The roles of monster that have been created over the centuries by their writers are an indicative of the fears and the needs of societies for these monsters, thus they are modified and developed to reflect social anxieties. The aspects of onomastic meanings redo the roles of the monster in Frankenstein in Baghdad; they show entirely the exact roles and characteristics of the monster to the readers. The monster’s names that are given by other characters in the novel can be used as devices to indicate the variety of literary purposes: to emphasize a certain aspect of society which Saadawi is writing on, or even the more traditional method of naming with the express intent of identifying a certain trait or expectation of the monster’s personality. Saadawi names his monster several names in order to convey specific purposes. Each name has separately purpose, and simultaneously, all names have a common goal they have to achieve. The monster in Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus (1818) by Mary Shelley (English novelist, short story writer, dramatist, essayist, biographer, and travel writer) has mainly affecting on the monster in Frankenstein in Baghdad (2013) (Arabic Fiction) by Ahmed Saadawi (Iraqi novelist, poet and screenwriter).

Abstract Background Multiple sclerosis (MS) is usually diagnosed between 20 and 40 years, affecting the most productive and active period of life. Aim To analyse the health perception of young people with MS and to compare the present results with a previous one. Methods A descriptive cross-sectional study was conducted in 2017. A validate and anonymous questionnaire was administered to 613 Italian young, aged 18-40, affected by MS (women 78.5%). Results Analyzing the declared health status, most of young MS defined good health status (76% good or excellent health) with differences between age class (82% at 25-29 years vs 71% at 35-40) and with a reverse trend with the increasing of disability (92% in subject with no disability vs 34% in ones with a medium or severe disability). The comparison against 2004 data highlights an improvement in the health conditions perceived, also for ones with a serious disability. Regarding the time elapsed from diagnosis, the trend was not linear, since respondents with a diagnosis <1 year indicated a worst health condition than those with a diagnosis from 5 to 10 years. Significant percentage of them paid attention to positive attitudes in health promotion: 71% practiced physical activity, 70% controlled smoke and alcohol consumption, 38% was on a special diet. Conclusions Diagnosis and disability constitute a decisive factor in the assessment of the state of health, but the perception goes to stabilize with time, even if the conditions tend to worsen. In this regard, the worst declared conditions in patients with a recent diagnosis seem to be influenced by psychological factors. So, the moment of diagnosis need a better management. Only 30% got adult vaccination (vs 61% in young Italians) due to lack of information on vaccine safety in MS patients. The improvement of perceived health in young with MS is another proof of the progress of MS treatments, which appears transversal to all the conditions of disability. Key messages The perception of health is strongly related to disability and to time elapsed from diagnosis. In the last 15 years the progress of MS management improved well-being of all MS young patients.

In antiquity, works of culture, created by the Greek-Roman people, passed centuries, the test of centuries and reached our era. Many samples of European literature, born in the Modern Age, have long been forgotten, and unique works, such as the Homeric epic and the tragedies of Sophocles, have been translated again and again, always bringing spiritual energy and aesthetic pleasure to readers’ hearts. Homer was unique among the poets of that time, and indeed the supposed author of the Iliad and the Odyssey must undoubtedly be one of the world's greatest literary artists. The two epics formed the basis of Greek education and culture throughout the classical era and laid the foundation of human education up until the time of the Roman Empire and the spread of Christianity so this is proof that Homer is also one of the most influential authors in the broadest sense. The article reveals the ideological and artistic features of the ancient Greek poet Homer’s poems “Iliad” and “Odyssey”. The authors of this article analyze the thematic, ideological, and artistic features of these epic works. The methodological basis of the work is the principle of historicism, which contributes to the objective study and evaluation of literary phenomena in the process of evolutionary development. The scientific article uses a traditional set of analysis methods: typological, systemic, and comparative.

The experiments with gamma radiation carried out by Pound et al. in the 1960s make use of the Mőssbauer effect. The counting rate of photons emitted from a height of h=22.5 m from a Fe57 source was measured versus the downward speed of the absorber. It was found that the minimum transmission occurred at a speed equal to gh/c, thereby indicating that the excess speed of light was (gh/c2 ) c, i.e. the speed of light was found to be greater than c because of the gravitational effect on the photons. This is in very good agreement with the value predicted in 1907 by Einstein on the basis of his Equivalence Principle (EP) which claims that the effects of a gravitational field are indistinguishable from those of a uniform acceleration of the object. However, it is pointed out that the EP fails to account for the fact that both the speed of light and the associated frequency vary in the same proportion with position of the source in the gravitational field, thereby indicating that the associated wavelength is invariant; the Doppler effect, on the other hand, when applied for the case of upward motion of the laboratory toward the source, leads to the conclusion that the wavelength should decrease in the same proportion as the frequency increases. The fact that the effects of both gravity and the motion of circumnavigating atomic clocks need to be taken into account separately/additively to predict elapsed time delays measured relative to the corresponding clock that remained stationary at the originating airport is proof that the two effects are not equivalent. The Uniform Scaling method is described which accounts for differences in measured values obtained in two different rest frames for all types of physical properties, thereby satisfying the original purpose foreseen for the EP.

Se aborda el problema que surge cuando concurren los siguientes datos: 1º) Una persona padece determinada enfermedad, 2º) Contrae matrimonio. 2º) Fallece antes de que haya transcurrido un año. 4º) Antes del matrimonio hubo convivencia de la pareja. 5º) El cónyuge superviviente solicita la pensión de viudedad. 6º) La Ley concede la pensión solo si la suma del tiempo que han durado matrimonio y convivencia (estable, notoria, inmediatamente anterior al matrimonio) llega a los dos años. Se discute si la convivencia que puede tomarse en cuenta tiene que ser como pareja de hecho (formalizada en cuanto tal) o basta con la material. La sentencia comentada, siguiendo el criterio de la jurisprudencia social, admite que esa convivencia puede acreditarse mediante certificado de empadronamiento u otro medio de prueba admisible en Derecho. El caso permite, una vez más, la reflexión acerca de las pensiones de Seguridad Social y de Clases Pasivas, de la Jurisdicción Social y de la Jurisdicción Contenciosa. The problem that arises when the following data concur is addressed: 1º) A person suffers from a certain disease, 2º) Gets married. 2º) He dies before a year has elapsed. 4º) Before marriage there was cohabitation of the couple. 5º) The surviving spouse requests the widow's pension. 6º) The Law grants the pension only if the sum of the time that the marriage and cohabitation have lasted (stable, notorious, immediately prior to the marriage) reaches two years. It is discussed whether the cohabitation that can be taken into account has to be as a de facto couple (formalized as such) or whether the material one is enough. The commented sentence, following the criteria of social jurisprudence, admits that this coexistence can be accredited by means of a certificate of registration or other means of proof admissible in Law. The case allows, once again, reflection on Social Security and Passive Class pensions, the Social Jurisdiction and the Contentious Jurisdiction.

Here at Queensland University of Technology, the former Arts Faculty has been replaced by a new Faculty of Creative Industries led by the internationally renowned scholar John Hartley. This has entailed a great deal of reorganisation, planning and debate - very little of which need concern us here. However there was one discussion that does bear fairly directly on my topic. This had to do with whether the discipline of journalism should be included within Creative Industries. Though this was eventually resolved in the affirmative some felt that to call a journalist 'creative' was tantamount to an insult. What was at stake here was the old issue of the relationship between the journalist and reality. When the word 'creative' is rejected as non-relevant to the practice of journalism what we have is a signal that the doctrine of empiricism is still alive and well. This remains the staple fare of journalist educators despite having been subjected to devastating attacks by Roy Bhaskar in The Possibilities of Naturalism: A Philosophical Critique of the Contemporary Human Sciences (1979) and in Scientific Realism & Human Emancipation (1986). As Bhaskar has pointed out for the empiricist "…the ultimate objects of knowledge are atomistic events. Such events constitute given facts and their conjunctions exhaust the objective content of our idea of natural necessity. Knowledge and the world may be viewed as surfaces whose points are in isomorphic correspondence…" (Bhaskar 24). Within the empiricist worldview the task of the journalist is to boldly go and find out the facts and report them back to the reader. Similarly within the same outlook the task of the documentary photography can be seen as the recording of what is. Outside the realm of the journalist educator few would today subscribe to such a view of the role of the photographer. Not only has theory advanced beyond classical empiricism, but such has been the strength of the reaction, that theorists such as Simon Watney have felt compelled to write an 'obituary notice' for the British Documentary tradition (12). Watney claimed that the activity of the photographers was motivated by a theoretical assumption that they recorded or reported the truth. For Watney it would seem that the truth is that there is no such thing as the truth and that the photographers served institutional and ideological interests. However drawing upon Bhaskarian Critical Realism it is a fairly easy task to refute scepticism in the strong form that Watney advances. To start with, the claim that it is true that there is no truth is itself self-cancelling. Nor can scepticism about the possibility of truth sustain an account of, for example, medical science where our knowledge is progressive and accumulative. More serious for the practice of documentary photography have been the technological advances that have called into question the very possibility of our ever knowing how 'creative' i.e. how much of a faker a photographer has been. It is to the consideration of just this one aspect of the impact of the new digital technology that I now turn. Photography in the Digital Age: Distinguishing between truth and evidence The digital camera would appear to have given the photographer the power of unlimited creativity and indeed to have put her in the position of Absolute Creator. Especially worrying to some is that the evidential status of the photograph has been definitively called into question. Commentators such as Dai Vaughan in For Documentary (1999) see this as the end of relationship between the camera and reality. Brian Winston has expressed similar views in Claiming the Real: The Documentary Film Revisited (1995). It is important to point out here that we need to avoid confusing the question of evidence and that of truth. The latter concept is ultimately an ontological matter while that of evidence belongs to the realm of epistemology. It is failure to make this distinction that has led to the apocalyptic tone adapted by Vaughan and others. Moreover photography has never had a simple relationship with reality. Photography and fakery have gone hand in hand since the inception of the medium. Dorothea Lange's touching up of her famous Migrant Mother and Robert Capa's faking of the death of the Spanish republican soldier are just two of the most famous examples. The latter produced one of the most famous of all war photographs. Entitled Falling Soldier, it was taken in September 1936 during the Spanish Civil War. It purports to show a soldier at the moment of death. He is thrown backward and his rifle has been flung out of his hand. Capa himself claimed that the photograph was taken when he and the man he was to photograph: …were on the Cordoba front, stranded there, the two of them, Capa with his precious camera and the soldier with his rifle. The soldier was impatient. He wanted to get back to the Loyalist lines. Time and again he climbed up and peered over the sandbags. Each time he would drop back at the warning rattle of machine-gun fire. Finally the soldier muttered something to the effect that he was going to take the long chance. He clambered out of the trench with Capa behind him. The machine guns rattled and Capa automatically snapped his camera, falling beside the body of his companion. Two hours later, when it was dark, and the guns were still, the photographer crept across the broken ground to safety. Later he discovered that he had taken one of the finest action shots of the Spanish war (Whelan 96). Capa's photograph went around the world and it was very effective in mobilising support for the anti-fascist Spanish Republican cause, that is Capa's photo helped the good guys. There has however been a fair deal of controversy over whether this photo was faked. The evidence seems to suggest that it was (Whelan 95-100). Does it matter? Richard Whelan in Robert Capa (1985) concludes: "To insist upon knowing whether the photograph actually shows a man at the moment he has been hit by a bullet is both morbid and trivialising, for the picture's greatness ultimately lies in its symbolic implications, not in its literal accuracy as a report on the death of a particular man" (100). Nigel Warburton in Varieties of Photographic representation: Documentary, Pictorial and Quasi-documentary (1991) however, strongly disagrees. He argues that a question of trust is involved between the photojournalist and her audience and violation of this is by no means a trivial matter. As he puts it: "The photojournalist's main responsibility is to aim to instil true beliefs in the viewers of their pictures. What is more, not all means are acceptable means of instilling these beliefs: the journalist and the photojournalist both have a duty to instil these beliefs by presenting evidence" (207). I am in agreement with Warburton here; trust between the photographer and her audience is crucial, especially if one's aesthetic practice is linked to claims that it is part of an emancipatory endeavour. Though of course the matter of truth cannot be reduced to a question of trust. What ultimately is at stake with regard to truth is the relationship of the photograph to the objective manifold, i.e. the ontological status of the photograph. This can be seen as isomorphic as in correspondence models. For example: Is the photograph of Carlo Giuliani, being shot in Genoa at the anti G8 demonstrations, a photograph of Carlo Giuliani being shot? A more satisfactory approach than the correspondence one is, I believe, to be found within Critical Realist model of truth advanced by Roy Bhaskar in Dialectic: The Pulse of Freedom (1993). Here the question of truth ultimately comes down to the capacity of the photograph to uncover alethia - truth as the reason for things, not merely propositions. Complex as these issues are there is nevertheless a fairly simple moral behind the exposure of Capa's fakery. No matter how impressive the process of faking there is always the possibility that this will be at some time exposed. The subsequent exposure of the violation of trust can be a serious blow to a photographer's professional credibility. A somewhat different position on the relationship between digital technology and photography has recently been advanced by Pedro Meyer in an internet article The Renaissance of Photography (Oct 1 1995). He begins with Camille Silvy's 1858 photograph 'River Scene France'. He reveals that this painting is in fact a composite, or a fake if you wish. Silvy solved the technical problem of photographing clouds and a landscape by photographing them separately and joining them in the development process. Meyer concludes this analysis of Silvy's photograph with an endorsement from the grand daughter of Ansel Adams that he would have welcomed digital photography. The next example, which Meyer considers, is that of the two photographs of the Kent University murders in 1970. The recent publication of the photo in 1995 Life Magazine had the pole behind the student's head airbrushed out. No one knows who did this and the photo was reprinted without the pole many times and the elimination of the pole attracted no notice. As Meyer notes however a debate eventually ensued on the Internet. He cites a Brian Masck as arguing that the pole should not have been airbrushed out. Masck went on to make the claim that if photography is to be believed it must not be touched up. This opinion bore directly upon the normative fiduciary level or trust aspect of truth when Masck says: The photographer therefore has a huge burden of responsibility to maintain the credibility of his images, and the employer (publisher) in turn has a burden or responsibility to the photographer as well as the reader to do the same…Once the SOURCE cannot be believed photojournalism is dead." (n.pag) Meyer responds to this by pointing out that the criterion for truth here is more exact than in writing. In writing we need confirmation from a second source. All that has happened in photography is that we now need confirmation of the photograph. It can no longer stand alone as evidence. So photography for Meyer is now freed from the burden of being evidence and can take its place along side the other arts. He does however still fudge the truth question somewhat in his analogy with writing. The use of digital techniques is compared with proofreading in writing. Thus he writes: All pictures, such as with text, are confirmed from several different sources when in doubt; otherwise it's the photographer's responsibility to deliver an image with integrity towards the events, which in turn will be constantly monitored. We understand that integrity is not a matter of how the picture was made, but what it's supposed to communicate. Just as editors don't oversee if the writers do so by hand or type on a computer, our photographers are free to use any tool they want. The veracity of an image is not dependent on how it was produced, any more than a text is credible because no corrections were done on it. (n.pag) This I think will not do. To begin with it would be quite possible to imagine a set of circumstances in which a written text would have more credibility if it were uncorrected. More seriously the phrase 'integrity towards the events' need clarification. If this means that the photo claims to be a record or semiotic trace of an event then the advent of digital techniques mean that it is impossible to assume such 'integrity'. The evidential nature of photography has been irrevocably challenged. To repeat an earlier point it is important to make a clear distinction between evidence and truth. We must understand here that what has been challenged is our capacity to take the evidential status of a photograph for granted. Nevertheless photographs can still prove a record or a semiotic trace of an event, but we can no longer accept the photograph as proof. Despite what the constructionists would have us believe, the referent still lives! Meyer finishes his article with another interesting comparison between a photograph and a painting by Van Gogh. They may be of the same tree. In the painting the tree is transformed into something wonderful. It glows with a kind of transcendent spirituality. By contrast in the photograph the tree is simply a tree. It does though serve the purpose of alerting us to the contrast between recording reality and transforming it through the imagination. Here Meyer quotes the Mexican poet Veronica Volkow as saying: "With the digital revolution, the photograph breaks its loyalty with what is real, that unique marriage between the arts, only to fall into the infinite temptations of the imagination. It is now more the sister of fantasy and dreams than of presence" (n.pag) If Volkow were correct then photojournalism would indeed seem to be dead. But of course there will always be a place for documentary photography. Artistic expression will improve with digital techniques; that is true. But the photograph's ability to provide a semiotic trace will always be welcomed. However, with the growth and spread of digital photography what will gradually disappear is the naive belief in the transparency of the photograph. Conclusions Interrupting the Flow: Neo Heracliteanism and the Practice of Photography The avant-garde filmmaker, poet and theorist Trinh T. Minh-ha has argued in When The Moon Waxes Red: Presentation, Gender And Cultural Politics (1991) for an extreme irrealist position in documentary by claiming: 'Reality runs away, reality denies reality. Filmmaking is after all a question of "framing" reality in its course' (43). The first part of this quotation gives us the moment of Heraclitus, who argued : "You cannot step twice into the same rivers; for fresh waters are forever flowing in upon you." (Warner 26). However, there is an even more extreme element in Heraclitean thought and that is associated with his student and follower Cratylus, who seemingly claimed that it was impossible to step into the river at all. The flux of life was so thorough that it was impossible to capture. In Plato Etc Roy Bhaskar cites the anecdote by Aristotle, which has it that Cratylus eventually despaired so much of his ability to say anything about reality that he ended up as an elective mute and would merely point (52). It is the Cratylan position that lies behind Trinh T. Minh-ha's statement 'reality denies reality' (43) for if this phrase has any meaning it must be that it is impossible to know the real. Indeed to my mind Trinh T. Minh-ha's theoretical work is much closer to Cratylus than Heraclitus. If however Heraclitus' fragments 41 & 42 suggest unending flux, fragment 81, which says "We step and do not step into the same rivers: we are and are not" (Warner 26). gives us the moment of the intransitive structure which is relatively enduring underneath the flux of actuality. The distinction between the intransitive (i.e. ontological) dimension and the transitive (i.e. narrowly epistemological) dimensions was first advanced by Roy Bhaskar in his Realist Theory of Science (1978). This emphasis on the difference between the intransitive and transitive dimensions helps us to understand that it is the intransitive dimension or the enduring level of ontology or reality that is the domain of the creative photographer. When the photograph gives us access to this level of reality then we are in the presence of what Cartier Bresson has called 'the decisive moment' and the photographer as creator in the sense not of faking or recording but of revealing reality is born. References: Bkaskar, Roy. The Possibilities of Naturalism: A Philosophical Critique of the Contemporary Human Sciences. London: The Harvester Press, 1979. ____________. Scientific Realism & Human Emancipation. London: Verso, 1986. _____________. Dialectic: The Pulse of Freedom. London: Verso, 1993. _______. Plato Etc. London: Verso, 1994. Meyer, P. "The Renaissance of Photography: A keynote address at the SPE Conference Los Angeles, California", Oct 1 1995 < http://zonezero.com/magazine/articles/meyer/01.htm>. Trinh T. Minh-ha. When The Moon Waxes Red: Presentation, Gender And Cultural Politics. New York: Routledge, 1991. Vaughan, Dai. For Documentary. Berkeley: University of California Press 1999. Warburton, Nigel. "Varieties of Photographic Representation: Documentary, Pictorial and Quasi-documentary," History of Photography. 15 (3), 1991: 207. Warner, Rex.. The Greek Philosophers. New York: Mentor, 1958. Watney, Simon. "The Documentary Forum," Creative Camera 254, 1986: 12. Whelan, Richard. Robert Capa. London: Faber, 1985. Winston, Brian . Claiming the Real: The Documentary Film Revisited. London: BFI, 1995.


 
 
 The book review might be thought of as a provisionally authoritative assessment designed to evaluate a book on behalf of potential readers, and to place the text within an appropriate literary context. It is, perhaps, more often associated with newly published works than established “classics,” which exist both as saleable commodities in the form of published books, and as more abstract entities within the cultural memory of a given audience. This suggests part of the difficulty of reviewing a book like Miguel de Cervantes’s Don Quixote, originally published in 1605 (Part I) and 1615 (Part II).
 
 Don Quixote is a long book, and is often referred to through ellipsis or synecdoche. Pared back to its most famous episode, Don Quixote’s tilting at windmills (Part I ch. 8: 63-5), it is frequently interpreted in terms of a comic opposition between the world of chivalric romance that determines the central character’s perceptions and actions, and the world of early modern Spain in which he is set. This seems as good a summary as any of Don Quixote’s behaviour, as the “quixotic” symbolism of this episode is easily transposed onto both the internal world of the text, and the external world in general. But Cervantes’s novel also seems to resist definition in such simple terms; as I intend to suggest, the relationship between what Don Quixote is seen to represent, and his role in the novel, can generate some interesting repercussions for the process of reviewing.
 
 Cervantes represents his character’s delusions as a consequence of the books he reads, providing the opportunity for a review (in the sense both of a survey and a critique) of various contemporary literary discourses. This process is formalised early on, as the contents of Don Quixote’s library are examined, criticised and selectively burnt by his concerned friends (Part I ch. 6: 52-8). The books mentioned are real, and the discovery of Cervantes’s own Galatea among those reprieved suggests a playful authorial reflection on the fictional quality of his work, an impression reinforced as the original narrative breaks off to be replaced by a “second author” and Arabic translator between two chapters (Part I ch. 8-9: 70-6). 
 
 Part II of Don Quixote depicts characters who have read, and refer to, Part I, effectively granting Don Quixote an internal literary identity that is reviewed by the other characters against the figure they actually encounter. To complicate matters, it also contains repeated mentions of a real, but apocryphal, Part II (published in Tarragona in 1614 under the name Alonso Fernández de Avellaneda), culminating in Don Quixote’s encounter with a proof copy of a (fictional) second edition in a Barcelona printing shop (ch. 62: 916). Ironically, while this text appears to question the later, authorised version from which it differs markedly, Cervantes’s mention of it within his own text allows him both to review the work of his rival, and reflect on the reception of his own.
 
 These forms of self-reflexivity suggest both a general interest in writing and literature, and a rather more perplexing sense of the text reviewing itself. In an odd sense, Don Quixote pre-empts and usurps the role of the reviewer, appearing somehow to place external reviewers in the position of being contained or implied within it. 
 
 But despite these pitfalls, more reviews than usual have appeared in 2005, the four hundredth anniversary of the publication of Don Quixote, Part I.
 
 Some refer specifically to editions released for the anniversary: Jeremy Lawrance reviews two new editions in Spanish, while Paddy Bullard examines a newly-restored edition of Tobias Smollett’s 1755 translation, recommended “for readers of Cervantes who are interested in his profound influence on eighteenth-century British culture, or on the development of the novel as a modern literary genre.”
 
 This also suggests something about the way in which translations, like reviews, serve to mark and to mediate their own context. Lawrance’s verdict of “still readable” implies the book’s continuing capacity not only to entertain, but also to generate readings that throw light on the history of its reception. 
 
 Don Quixote provides a perspective from which to review the concerns implied in critical interpretations of different periods. Smollett’s translation (like Laurence Sterne’s invocations of Cervantes in his Tristram Shandy) suggests an eighteenth-century interest in the relationship between Don Quixote and the novel. This may be contrasted, as Yannick Roy suggests (53-4), both with earlier perceptions of Don Quixote as a figure to be laughed at, and the post-romantic perception of a tragicomical everyman seen as representative of a human condition.
 
 Modern interpretations of Don Quixote are also complicated by the canonisation of its hero as a household word. 
 
 Comparing the anniversary of Don Quixote to the attention given to the centenary of Einstein’s Special Theory of Relativity (1905), Simon Jenkins notes “few English people read Don Quixote, perhaps because they think they know it already.” It is frequently described as a foundational text of the modern novel; however, at a thousand pages, it must also compete for readers’ time and attention with the ever-increasing gamut of long prose narratives it helped instigate. Don Quixote, the deluded knight-errant lives on, while the subtleties of Cervantes’s narrative may increasingly be dependent on sympathetic reviewers.
 
 It would seem that it is no longer necessary to read the story of Don Quixote in order to know, or even write about him. Nevertheless, not least because the book entertains a complex relationship with its character, and because it seems so conscious of its own literary enterprise, Don Quixote is a dangerous book not to have read.
 
 Responding to Jenkins’s claim that Cervantes’s work represents a more unique, and more easily grasped, achievement than Einstein’s, Stephen Matchett takes exception to a phenomenon he describes as “a bloke who tilted at windmills.” Arguing that “most of us are sufficiently solipsistic to be more comfortable with writers who chart the human condition than thinkers who strive to make sense of the universe,” he seems to consider Don Quixote as exemplary of a pernicious modern tendency to privilege literary discourses over scientific ones, to take fiction more seriously than reality. 
 
 Even ignoring the incongruity of a theory of relativity presented as a paradigm of fact (which may speak volumes about textual and existential anxiety in the twenty-first century), this seems a particularly unfortunate judgement to make about Don Quixote. Matchett’s claim about the relative fortunes of science and literature is not only difficult to substantiate, but also appears to have been anticipated by the condition of Don Quixote himself. Rather than arguing that the survival of Cervantes’s novel is representative of a public obsession with fiction, it would seem more accurate, if nonetheless paradoxical, to suggest that Don Quixote seems capable of projecting the delusions of its central character onto the unwary reviewer. 
 
 Matchett’s article is not, strictly speaking, a review of the text of Don Quixote, and so the question of whether he has actually read the book is, in some sense, irrelevant. The parallels are nevertheless striking: while the surrealism of Don Quixote’s enterprise is highlighted by his attempt to derive a way of being specifically from a literature of chivalry, Matchett’s choice of example has the consequence of re-creating aspects of Cervantes’s novel in a new context. Tilting at chimerical adversaries that recall the windmills upon which its analysis is centred, this review may be read not only as a response to Don Quixote, but also, ironically, as a performance of it. 
 
 To say this seems absurd; however, echoing Jorge Luis Borges’s words in his essay “Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote,” “to justify this ‘absurdity’ is the primary object of this note” (40). Borges explores the (fictional) attempt of obscure French poet Pierre Menard to rewrite, word for word, parts of Cervantes’s Don Quixote. Menard’s initial undertaking to “be Miguel de Cervantes,” to “forget the history of Europe between 1602 and 1918,” is rejected for the more interesting attempt to “go on being Pierre Menard and reach the Quixote through the experiences of Pierre Menard”. While Menard’s text is identical to Cervantes’s, the point is that the implied difference in context affects the way in which the text is read. As Borges states:
 
 It is not in vain that three hundred years have gone by, filled with exceedingly complex events. Amongst them, to mention only one, is the Quixote itself. . . . Cervantes’s text and Menard’s are verbally identical, but the second is almost infinitely richer (41-2).
 
 
 Menard’s “verbally identical” Quixote can also be identified as a review of Cervantes’s text, in the sense that it is both informed by, and dependent on, the original. In addition, it allows a review of the relationship between the book as published by Cervantes, and the almost infinite number of readings engendered by the historical permutations of the last three (and now four) hundred years, from which the influence of Don Quixote cannot be excluded. 
 
 Matchett’s review is of a different nature, in that it stems from an attempt to question the book’s continuing popularity. It seems absurd to suggest that Matchett himself could have served as a model for Don Quixote. But the unacknowledged debt of his piece to Cervantes’s novel, and to the opposition of discourses set up within it, reveals a supremely quixotic irony: Stephen Matchett appears to have produced a concise and richly interpretable rewriting of Don Quixote, in the persona of Stephen Matchett. 
 
 References
 
 Borges, Jorge Luis. “Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote.” Trans. James E. Irby. Labyrinths. Eds. James E. Irby and Donald A. Yates. New York: New Directions, 1964. 36-44. Bullard, Paddy. “Literature.” Times Literary Supplement 8 Apr. 2005. De Cervantes Saavedra, Miguel. Don Quixote. Trans. John Rutherford. London: Penguin, 2003. (Part and chapter references have been included in the text in order to facilitate reference to different editions.) Jenkins, Simon. “The Don.” Review. Weekend Australian 14 May 2005. Lawrance, Jeremy. “Still Readable.” Times Literary Supplement 22 Apr. 2005. Matchett, Stephen. “A Theory on Einstein.” Review. Weekend Australian 11 June 2005. Roy, Yannick. “Pourquoi ne rit-on plus de Don Quichotte?” Inconvénient: Revue Littéraire d’Essai et de Création 6 (2001): 53-60.
 
 
 
 
 Citation reference for this article
 
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 Noonan, W. (Oct. 2005) "On Reviewing Don Quixote," M/C Journal, 8(5). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0510/03-noonan.php>. 

Michael Haneke’s film Caché tells the story of a bourgeois family in peril. The comfortable lives of the Laurents—husband Georges (Daniel Auteuil), wife Anne (Juliette Binoche), and teenage son Pierrot (Lester Makedonsky)—are disrupted when surveillance tapes of their home and private conversations are delivered to them anonymously. Ostensibly Caché sits in a familiar generic framework: the thriller narrative of a family under threat is reminiscent of films such as The Desperate Hours (1955), Cape Fear (1962), and Straw Dogs (1971). The weight of outside forces causes tension within the family dynamic and Georges spends much of the film playing detective (unravelling clues from the tapes and from his past). This framing draws us in; it is presumed that the mystery of the family’s harassment will finally be solved, and yet Haneke’s treatment of this material undermines viewer expectations. This paper examines the process of suspicious reading when applied to a film that encourages such a method, only to thwart the viewer’s attempts to come to a definitive meaning. I argue that Caché plays with generic expectations in order to critique the interpretive process, and consider what implications this has for suspicious readers. Caché positions us as detective. Throughout the film we follow Georges’s investigation to unravel the film’s central enigma: Who is sending the tapes? The answer to this, however, is never revealed. Instead viewers are left with more questions than answers; it seems that for every explanation there is a circumventing intricacy. This lack of narrative closure within the surface framework of a psychological thriller has proven fertile ground for critics, scholars, and home viewers alike as they painstakingly try to ascertain the elusive culprit. Character motives are scrutinised, performances are analysed, specific shots are dissected, and various theories have been canvassed. The viewer becomes ensnared in the hermeneutics of suspicion, a critical reading strategy that literary theorist Rita Felski has compared to the hard-boiled crime story, a scenario in which critic becomes detective, and text becomes criminal suspect to be “scrutinized, interrogated, and made to yield its hidden secrets” (224). Like Georges, the viewer becomes investigator, sifting through the available evidence in the vain hope that with scrupulous attention the film will surrender its mystery.Of course, Haneke is not unique in his withholding of a film’s enigma. David Lynch’s surreal neo-noir Lost Highway (1997) and Mulholland Drive (2001) have garnered a similar response and continue to be debated. Film scholar Mark Cousins compares Caché’s reception at Cannes to other landmark film and television examples:Where Dallas made people ask ‘who?’, Twin Peaks ‘what?’, the genre-bending films of the last decade ‘how?’ and The Crying Game was about the implications of the answer, Caché’s conversational buzz was more circular. Yes, we asked ‘who?’ Then, when it was clear this question was not answered by the film, we considered why it was not answered. (225–6)Felski’s meditation on the hermeneutics of suspicion touches on this issue, considering literary texts as preemptive of our mistrust. Extending Felski’s reasoning here as applicable to other forms of cultural expression, I would like to argue that Caché is a film that “matches and exceeds the critic’s own vigilance” for it is already involved in “subverting the self-evident, challenging the commonplace, [and] relentlessly questioning idées fixes and idées recus” (Felski 217). Caché challenges fixed and received ideas pertaining to audience expectations of the thriller film, subverting generic conventions that traditionally see the enigma resolved, the culprit apprehended, and order restored. More than simply refusing closure, Caché casts doubt on the very clues it offers up as evidence. Such a text performs “a meta-commentary on the traps of interpretation, a knowing anticipation and exposure of all possible hermeneutic blunders” (Felski 217). Throughout her essay, Felski highlights the lures and pitfalls of suspicious reading practices. Felski warns that attempts to gain mastery over texts by drawing to light purportedly obscured meanings are often as concerned with self-congratulatory demonstrations of skill in drawing hitherto unmade connections as they are with the texts themselves (230). While I do not wish to endorse suspicious reading as an unproblematic approach, the present paper considers what happens when readers encounter a text that seemingly cannot be approached in any other way. Unlike the realist literary narratives and mystery stories drawn on by Felski, Caché resists a manifest meaning in both form and content, making it nearly impossible for viewers not to search for latent meaning.So where are suspicious readers left when the texts interrogated refuse to bend to the demands placed on them? This is the question I will be examining in the remainder of this paper through the questions Caché poses and the care it takes in ensuring its enigmatic quality. I will proceed by breaking down what I believe to be the three possible avenues of response—Caché as impossible puzzle, inconclusive puzzle, or wrong puzzle—and their implications.I The Impossible Puzzle Caché opens with a static frame long take of a Parisian residential street. This could be mistaken for a still image until a pedestrian bustles past. A woman leaves her house centre frame. A cyclist turns the corner. “Well?” a male voice intones. “Nothing,” a female replies. The voices come from off-screen, and soon after the image is interrupted by fast forward lines, revealing that what we have been watching is not an image of the present moment but a video cassette of time already elapsed; the voices belong to our protagonists, Georges and Anne, commenting on its content and manipulating its playback. From the opening moments it becomes clear that we cannot be certain of what we are seeing or when we are seeing it.This presents an intriguing tension between form and content that complicates our attempts to gather evidence. Haneke pares back style in a manner reminiscent of the films of Robert Bresson or the work of the Italian neo-realists. Caché’s long takes, naturalistic lighting, and emphasis on the everyday suggest a realist aesthetic; the viewer can invest faith in these images because they ascribe to a familiar paradigm, one in which artifice is apparently minimal. This notion that a realist aesthetic equates to straightforward images is at odds, however, with both the thriller narrative (in which solutions must be concealed before they can be uncovered) and Haneke’s constant undermining of the ontology of the image; throughout the film, viewers will be disoriented by Haneke’s manipulation of time and space with unclear or retroactive distinctions between past, present, video, dream, memory, and reality.An additional contention might be the seemingly impossible placement of the hidden camera. In the same tape, Georges leaves the house and walks towards the camera, unaware of it. The shot indicates the camera must be elevated in the street, and at one point it appears that Georges is looking right at it. A later recording takes place in the apartment of Georges’s suspect, Majid. Viewers are given ample opportunity to scour the mise en scène to find what apparently is not there. Perhaps the camera is just too well hidden. But if this is not the case and we can neither locate nor conceive of the camera’s placement because it simply cannot be there, this would seem to break the rules of the game. If we are to formulate theories as to the culprit at large, what good is our evidence if it is unreliable? Viewers could stop here and conclude that a puzzle without a solution amounts to a film without a point. “Well?” Georges asks in the film’s opening. “Nothing,” Anne replies. Case closed. Short of giving up on a solution, one might conclude (as Antoine Doinel has) that those looking within the film for a perpetrator are looking in the wrong place. When the motives or opportunities of on-screen characters do not add up, perhaps it is Haneke one should turn to. Those familiar with Haneke’s earlier film Funny Games (1997) will know he is not afraid to break the tacit rules by which we suspend our disbelief if there is a point to be made. Film scholar David Sorfa concludes it is in fact the audience who send the tapes; Caché’s narrative is fuelled by the desire of viewers who want to see a film (102). Tempting though these solutions might be (Georges does not see the camera because he is a fictional character in a film unaware of its creator), as critic Roger Ebert has pointed out, such theories render both the film’s content, and any analysis of it, without purpose: It introduces a wild card. It essentially means that no analysis of the film is relevant, because nothing need make sense and no character actions need be significant. Therefore, the film would have the appearance of a whodunit but with no who and no dunnit. (“Caché: A Riddle”)The Caché as impossible puzzle avenue leaves the suspicious reader without reason to engage. If there can be no reward for our efforts, we are left without incentive. Alternately, if we conclude that Haneke is but the puppet master sadistically toying with his characters, we are left at a similar juncture; our critical enquiry has all the consequence of the trite “but it was all a dream…” scenario. “Well?” “Nothing.” I suspect there is more to Caché than that. A film so explicit in its stimulation of suspicious reading seems to merit our engagement. However, this is not to say that our attention will be satisfied with the neatly tied up solution we might expect. II The Inconclusive Puzzle When, one evening, Pierrot does not come home as expected, Georges and Anne conclude the boy has been kidnapped. They interpret their son’s absence as an escalation in the “campaign of terror” that had hitherto consisted of surveillance videos, odd phone calls, and childlike but portent drawings. With police assistance, Georges goes to confront his suspect, Majid. An Algerian boy from his childhood, now middle aged and disadvantaged because of lies Georges told as a child, Majid has already (quite convincingly) denied any knowledge of the tapes. At the door they meet Majid’s son who is equally perplexed at the accusation of kidnapping. The pair are arrested and an exhausted Georges returns home to explain the situation to his wife:Georges: So now they’re both in the cage for the night.Anne: And then?Georges: Then they’ll let them go. If there’s no proof, they have to. There’s suspicion, nothing more.The next day a sullen Pierrot returns home, having stayed the night at a friend’s without notifying his parents. His clear disdain for his mother is revealed as he rejects her affection and accuses her of having an affair. Pierrot likewise treats his father with disinterest, raising viewer suspicion that he might have a motive for tormenting his parents with the videotapes. Pierrot is just one cog in the family’s internal mechanism of suspicion, however. Whether or not Anne is actually having an affair can only be speculated; she denies it, but other scenes open the way to our suspicion. Anne is rightly suspicious of Georges’s reluctance to be open about his past as his proclivity to lie is gradually revealed. In short, Haneke deliberately layers the film with complexity and ambiguity; numerous characters could be implicated, and many questions are raised but few are answered.This suggests that suspicious readers might have recourse to Haneke as author of the text. Haneke, however, celebrates Caché’s ambiguity and his decision to leave the film open: “The truth is always hidden…that’s how it is in the real world. We never, ever know what the truth is. There are a thousand versions of the truth. It depends on your point of view” (Haneke). In interview, Haneke’s language also raises suspicion. At times he speaks knowingly (refusing to reveal important dialogue that occurs in the film’s final shot—an extreme long shot, the characters too distant to be heard), and at other times he seems as uncertain as his viewers (commenting on Anne’s denial of an affair, Haneke remarks “I believe her because she plays it very seriously. But you never know”) (Haneke).Despite this reluctance to offer explanations, Haneke’s status as an auteur with recurring concerns and an ever-developing vision prompts suspicious readers to evaluate Caché in light of his greater oeuvre. Those suspecting Pierrot of wanting to punish his parents might find their theory bolstered by Benny’s Video (1992), Haneke’s film about a teenage boy who murders a friend and then turns in his parents to the police for helping him cover it up. Furthermore, Das Weiße Band (The White Ribbon, 2009) is set in a small German village on the eve of World War One and the narrative strongly suggests the town’s children are responsible for a series of malicious crimes. Whilst malign children in Haneke’s other works cannot explain Caché’s mystery, his oeuvre provides a greater context in which to consider the film, and regenerates discussion as viewers look for patterns in the subject matter Haneke chooses to explore. Regarding Caché as an inconclusive puzzle shifts the emphasis from a neatly packaged solution to a renewable process of discovery. To suggest that there is an answer to be found in the text, a culprit who escapes apprehension but is at least present to be caught, gives suspicious readers cause to engage and re-engage. It is to assume that the film is not without a point. Close attention may reward us with meaningful nuances that colour our interpretation. Haneke’s obsessive attention to detail also seems to suggest that nothing on screen is accidental or arbitrary, that our concentration is warranted, and that active viewing is a necessity even if our expectations and desires for closure may not be granted.Caché ends without revealing its secret. Georges’s suspect Majid has committed suicide (perhaps due to the trauma dredged up by Georges’s accusations), Majid’s son has confronted Georges at his work place (“I wondered how it feels, a man’s life on your conscience?”), and Georges has refused any responsibility for his actions in the distant and recent past. Of the film’s conclusion, cinema theorist Martine Beugnet writes:In the end […] we watch him draw the curtains, take a sleeping pill and go to bed: an emphatic way of signifying the closure of an episode, the return to normality—the conclusion of the film. Yet the images ‘refuse’ to comply: behind the closing credits, the questioning gaze not only persists but affirms its capacity to reinvent itself. (230)The images Beugnet is referring to are the two final shots, which are both static long takes. The first is an extreme long shot, taken from the darkness of a barn into the bright courtyard of the family estate of Georges’s childhood. A child (Majid) is forcibly removed from the home and taken away in a car (presumably to an orphanage due to the lies told by a jealous Georges). This shot is followed by the film’s closing shot, another extreme long shot, this time of the front steps of Pierrot’s school. The frame is cluttered with children and parents, and our eyes are not directed anywhere in particular. Some viewers will notice Pierrot chatting with Majid’s son (a potentially revealing conversation that cannot be heard), others will not see the two young men hidden in the crowd. Eventually the credits roll over this image.Georges’s attempts to shut out the world seem undermined by these images, as Beugnet writes they “‘refuse’ to comply” to this notion of conclusion. Instead of bringing closure to the narrative, they raise more questions. What and when are they? One cannot be sure. The first shot may be a dream or a memory; its placement after a shot of Georges going to bed might encourage us to connect the two. The second shot at the school could be more surveillance footage, or possibly another dream. It might imply the boys have conspired together. It might imply Majid’s son is confronting Pierrot with information about his father. It could be interpreted as the end of the narrative, but it could also be the beginning. Some read it as threatening, others as hopeful. It might imply so many things. However, this “questioning gaze” that persists and reinvents itself is not just the gaze of the film. It is also the gaze of the suspicious reader. From the initial hype upon the film’s Cannes release in 2005, to the various theories circulating in online forums, to Ebert’s scrupulous re-evaluation of the film’s enigma in 2010, to the ever developing body of scholarly work on Haneke’s films, it seems Caché’s mileage for suspicious readers is still running strong, not least because “whodunit?” may be the wrong question.III The Wrong PuzzleOliver C. Speck has remarked that Caché is “Haneke’s most accessible film, but also the most densely layered,” leading the viewer “on a search for clues that always ends in frustration” (97). For Ebert, the film’s lack of resolution leaves the viewer “feeling as the characters feel, uneasy, violated, spied upon, surrounded by faceless observers” (“Caché”). Cousins likewise comments on the process Caché instigates: The film structures our experience in a generically gripping way but then the structure melts away at the moment when it should most cohere, requiring us to look back along its length (the structure’s length and the film’s) to work out where we went wrong. But we did not go wrong. We went where we were told to go, we took the hand of the narrative that, in the final stages, slipped away, leaving us without co-ordinates. (226)The "whodunit” of Caché cannot be definitively proven. Ultimately, viewers can have suspicion, nothing more. So where are we left as suspicious readers when texts such as Caché surpass our own critical vigilance? We can throw in the towel and claim that an impossible puzzle does not deserve our efforts. We can accept that the text has out-played us; it is an inconclusive but compelling puzzle that does not provide enough links in the hermeneutic chain for us to find the closure we seek. Alternately, when the answer is not forthcoming, we can hypothesise that perhaps we have been asking the wrong question; whodunit is beside the point, simply a Hitchcockian MacGuffin (the object or objective that the protagonists seek) introduced to bait us into confronting much more important questions. Perhaps instead we should be asking what Caché can tell us about colonial histories, guilt, vision, or the ontology of cinema itself.This is the avenue many scholars have taken, and the avenue Haneke (rather than his film necessarily) would have us take. The “who did what, when, why, and how” might be regarded as beside the point. In an interview with Andrew O’Hehir, Haneke is quoted:These superficial questions are the glue that holds the spectator in place, and they allow me to raise underlying questions that they have to grapple with. It’s relatively unimportant who sent the tapes, but by engaging with that the viewer must engage questions that are far less banal.Catherine Wheatley agrees, arguing Caché’s open ending renders the epistemological questions of the guilty party and their motives irrelevant, giving preference to questions raised by how this chain of events affect Georges, and by extension the viewer (163–4). By refusing to divulge its secrets, Caché both incites and critiques the interpretive process, encouraging us to take up the role of detective only to anticipate and exceed our investigative efforts. Caché’s subversion of the self-evident is as much a means to launch its thriller narrative as it is a way of calling into question our very understanding of what “self-evident” means. Where Felski describes suspicious interpretations of realist texts (those that attempt to unmask the ideologies concealed behind an illusion of transparency and totality), from its opening moments, Caché is already and constantly unmasking itself. The film’s resistance of a superficial reading seems to make suspicious interpretation inevitable. Wherever viewer suspicion is directed, however, it relies on engagement. Without reason to engage, viewers are left with an impossible puzzle where critical involvement and attention is of no consequence. “Who is sending the tapes?” may be an unimportant or unanswerable question, but it must always be a valid one. It is this query that incites and fuels the interpretive process. As there can only ever be suspicion, nothing more, perhaps it is the question rather than “the answer” that is of utmost significance.Works CitedBeugnet, Martine. “Blind Spot.” Screen 48.2 (2007): 227–31.Benny’s Video. Dir. Michael Haneke. Madman, 1992.Caché (Hidden). Dir. Michael Haneke. Sony Pictures Classics, 2005. Cape Fear. Dir. J. Lee Thompson. Universal, 1962.Cousins, Mark. “After the End: Word of Mouth and Caché.” Screen 48.2 (2007): 223–6.Desperate Hours, The. Dir. William Wyler. Paramount, 1955.Doinel, Antoine. “(Un)hidden Camera: The ‘Real’ Sender of the Tapes.” Mubi.com. Mubi. n.d. 10 Apr. 2011. ‹http://mubi.com/topics/461›. Ebert, Roger. “Caché.” Roger Ebert.com. Chicago Sun-Times. 13 Jan. 2006. 25 Feb. 2011. ‹http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20060112/REVIEWS/51220007›.---. “Caché: A Riddle, Wrapped in a Mystery, Inside an Enigma [Response to Readers].” Roger Ebert’s Journal. Chicago Sun-Times. 18 Jan. 2010. 2 Apr. 2011. ‹http://blogs.suntimes.com/ebert/2010/01/a_riddle_wrapped_in_a_mystery.html›.Felski, Rita. “Suspicious Minds.” Poetics Today 32.2 (2011): 215–34.Funny Games. Dir. Michael Haneke. Madman, 1997.Haneke, Michael. “Hidden: Interview with Michael Haneke by Serge Toubiana.” DVD Special Features. Hidden (Caché). Dir. Michael Haneke. Madman, 2005.Lost Highway. Dir. David Lynch. Universal, 1997.Mulholland Drive. Dir. David Lynch. Reel, 2001.O’Hehir, Andrew. “Michael Haneke’s ‘White Ribbon.’” Salon.com. Salon. 2 Jan. 2010. 2 Apr. 2011. ‹http://www.salon.com/entertainment/movies/andrew_ohehir/2010/01/02/haneke›.Sorfa, David. “Uneasy Domesticity in the Films of Michael Haneke.” Studies in European Cinema 3.2 (2006): 93–104.Speck, Oliver C. Funny Frames: The Filmic Concepts of Michael Haneke. New York: Continuum, 2010.Straw Dogs. Dir. Sam Peckinpah. MRA, 1971.Wheatley, Catherine. Michael Haneke’s Cinema: The Ethic of the Image. New York: Berghahn Books, 2009.White Ribbon, The (Das Weiße Band). Dir. Michael Haneke. Artificial Eye, 2009.


 
 
 ‘Complex(ity)’ is currently fashionable in the humanities. Fashions come and go, but in this article I argue that the interest in complexity connects with something deeper, an intellectual revolution that began before complexity became trendy, and will continue after the spotlight passes on. Yet to make this case, and understand and advance this revolution, we need a better take on ‘complexity’. ‘Complex’ is of course complex. In common use it refers to something ‘composed of many interrelated parts’, or problems ‘so complicated or intricate as to be hard to deal with’. I will call this popular meaning, with its positive and negative values, complexity-1. In science it has a more negative sense, complexity-2, referring to the presenting complexity of problems, which science will strip down to underlying simplicity. But recently it has developed positive meanings in both science and humanities. Complexity-3 marks a revolutionarily more positive attitude to complexity in science that does seek to be reductive. Humanities-style complexity-4, which acknowledges and celebrates the inherent complexity of texts and meanings, is basic in contemporary Media and Cultural studies (MaC for short). The underlying root of complex is plico bend or fold, plus con- together, via complector grasp (something), encompass an idea, or person. The double of ‘complex’ is ‘simple’, from Latin simplex, which less obviously also comes from plico, plus semel once, at the same time. ‘Simple’ and ‘complex’ are closer than people think: only a fold or two apart. A key idea is that these elements are interdependent, parts of a single underlying form. ‘Simple(x)’ is another modality of ‘complex’, dialectically related, different in degree not kind, not absolutely opposite. The idea of ‘holding together’ is stronger in Latin complex, the idea of difficulty more prominent in modern usage, yet the term still includes both. The concept ‘complex’ is untenable apart from ‘simple’. This figure maps the basic structures in ‘complexity’. This complexity contains both positive and negative values, science and non-science, academic and popular meanings, with folds/differences and relationships so dynamically related that no aspect is totally independent. This complex field is the minimum context in which to explore claims about a ‘complexity revolution’. Complexity in Science and Humanities In spite of the apparent similarities between Complexity-3 (sciences) and 4 (humanities), in practice a gulf separates them, policed from both sides. If these sides do not talk to each other, as they often do not, the result is not a complex meaning for ‘complex’, but a semantic war-zone. These two forms of complexity connect and collide because they reach into a new space where discourses of science and non-science are interacting more than they have for many years. For many, in both academic communities, a strong, taken-for-granted mindset declares the difference between them is absolute. They assume that if ‘complexity’ exists in science, it must mean something completely different from what it means in humanities or everyday discourse, so different as to be incomprehensible or unusable by humanists. This terrified defence of the traditional gulf between sciences and humanities is not the clinching argument these critics think. On the contrary, it symptomises what needs to be challenged, via the concept complex. One influential critic of this split was Lord Snow, who talked of ‘two cultures’. Writing in class-conscious post-war Britain he regretted the ignorance of humanities-trained ruling elites about basic science, and scientists’ ignorance of humanities. No-one then or now doubts there is a problem. Most MaC students have a science-light education, and feel vulnerable to critiques which say they do not need to know any science or maths, including complexity science, and could not understand it anyway. To understand how this has happened I go back to the 17th century rise of ‘modern science’. The Royal Society then included the poet Dryden as well as the scientist Newton, but already the fissure between science and humanities was emerging in the elite, re-enforcing existing gaps between both these and technology. The three forms of knowledge and their communities continued to develop over the next 400 years, producing the education system which formed most of us, the structure of academic knowledges in which culture, technology and science form distinct fields. Complexity has been implicated in this three-way split. Influenced by Newton’s wonderful achievement, explaining so much (movements of earthly and heavenly bodies) with so little (three elegant laws of motion, one brief formula), science defined itself as a reductive practice, in which complexity was a challenge. Simplicity was the sign of a successful solution, altering the older reciprocity between simplicity and complexity. The paradox was ignored that proof involved highly complex mathematics, as anyone who reads Newton knows. What science held onto was the outcome, a simplicity then retrospectively attributed to the universe itself, as its true nature. Simplicity became a core quality in the ontology of science, with complexity-2 the imperfection which challenged and provoked science to eliminate it. Humanities remained a refuge for a complexity ontology, in which both problems and solutions were irreducibly complex. Because of the dominance of science as a form of knowing, the social sciences developed a reductivist approach opposing traditional humanities. They also waged bitter struggles against anti-reductionists who emerged in what was called ‘social theory’. Complexity-4 in humanities is often associated with ‘post-structuralism’, as in Derrida, who emphasises the irreducible complexity of every text and process of meaning, or ‘postmodernism’, as in Lyotard’s controversial, influential polemic. Lyotard attempted to take the pulse of contemporary Western thought. Among trends he noted were new forms of science, new relationships between science and humanities, and a new kind of logic pervading all branches of knowledge. Not all Lyotard’s claims have worn well, but his claim that something really important is happening in the relationship between kinds and institutions of knowledge, especially between sciences and humanities, is worth serious attention. Even classic sociologists like Durkheim recognised that the modern world is highly complex. Contemporary sociologists agree that ‘globalisation’ introduces new levels of complexity in its root sense, interconnections on a scale never seen before. Urry argues that the hyper-complexity of the global world requires a complexity approach, combining complexity-3 and 4. Lyotard’s ‘postmodernism’ has too much baggage, including dogmatic hostility to science. Humanities complexity-4 has lost touch with the sceptical side of popular complexity-1, and lacks a dialectic relationship with simplicity. ‘Complexity’, incorporating Complexity-1 and 3, popular and scientific, made more complex by incorporating humanities complexity-4, may prove a better concept for thinking creatively and productively about these momentous changes. Only complex complexity in the approach, flexible and interdisciplinary, can comprehend these highly complex new objects of knowledge. Complexity and the New Condition of Science Some important changes in the way science is done are driven not from above, by new theories or discoveries, but by new developments in social contexts. Gibbons and Nowottny identify new forms of knowledge and practice, which they call ‘mode-2 knowledge’, emerging alongside older forms. Mode-1 is traditional academic knowledge, based in universities, organised in disciplines, relating to real-life problems at one remove, as experts to clients or consultants to employers. Mode-2 is orientated to real life problems, interdisciplinary and collaborative, producing provisional, emergent knowledge. Gibbons and Nowottny do not reference postmodernism but are looking at Lyotard’s trends as they were emerging in practice 10 years later. They do not emphasise complexity, but the new objects of knowledge they address are fluid, dynamic and highly complex. They emphasise a new scale of interdisciplinarity, in collaborations between academics across all disciplines, in science, technology, social sciences and humanities, though they do not see a strong role for humanities. This approach confronts and welcomes irreducible complexity in object and methods. It takes for granted that real-life problems will always be too complex (with too many factors, interrelated in too many ways) to be reduced to the sort of problem that isolated disciplines could handle. The complexity of objects requires equivalent complexity in responses; teamwork, using networks, drawing on relevant knowledge wherever it is to be found. Lyotard famously and foolishly predicted the death of the ‘grand narrative’ of science, but Gibbons and Nowottny offer a more complex picture in which modes-1 and 2 will continue alongside each other in productive dialectic. The linear form of science Lyotard attacked is stronger than ever in some ways, as ‘Big Science’, which delivers wealth and prestige to disciplinary scientists, accessing huge funds to solve highly complex problems with a reductionist mindset. But governments also like the idea of mode-2 knowledge, under whatever name, and try to fund it despite resistance from powerful mode-1 academics. Moreover, non-reductionist science in practice has always been more common than the dominant ideology allowed, whether or not its exponents, some of them eminent scientists, chose to call it ‘complexity’ science. Quantum physics, called ‘the new physics’, consciously departed from the linear, reductionist assumptions of Newtonian physics to project an irreducibly complex picture of the quantum world. Different movements, labelled ‘catastrophe theory’, ‘chaos theory’ and ‘complexity science’, emerged, not a single coherent movement replacing the older reductionist model, but loosely linked by new attitudes to complexity. Instead of seeing chaos and complexity as problems to be removed by analysis, chaos and complexity play a more ambiguous role, as ontologically primary. Disorder and complexity are not later regrettable lapses from underlying essential simplicity and order, but potentially creative resources, to be understood and harnessed, not feared, controlled, eliminated. As a taste of exciting ideas on complexity, barred from humanities MaC students by the general prohibition on ‘consorting with the enemy’ (science), I will outline three ideas, originally developed in complexity-3, which can be described in ways requiring no specialist knowledge or vocabulary, beyond a Mode-2 openness to dynamic, interdisciplinary engagement. Fractals, a term coined by mathematician Benoit Mandelbrot, are so popular as striking shapes produced by computer-graphics, circulated on T-shirts, that they may seem superficial, unscientific, trendy. They exist at an intersection between science, media and culture, and their complexity includes transactions across that folded space. The name comes from Latin fractus, broken: irregular shapes like broken shards, which however have their own pattern. Mandelbrot claims that in nature, many such patterns partly repeat on different scales. When this happens, he says, objects on any one scale will have equivalent complexity. Part of this idea is contained in Blake’s famous line: ‘To see the world in a grain of sand’. The importance of the principle is that it fundamentally challenges reductiveness. Nor is it as unscientific as it may sound. Geologists indeed see grains of sand under a microscope as highly complex. In sociology, instead of individuals (literal meaning ‘cannot be divided’) being the minimally simple unit of analysis, individuals can be understood to be as complex (e.g. with multiple identities, linked with many other social beings) as groups, classes or nations. There is no level where complexity disappears. A second concept is ‘fuzzy logic’, invented by an engineer, Zadeh. The basic idea is not unlike the literary critic Empson’s ‘ambiguity’, the sometimes inexhaustible complexity of meanings in great literature. Zadeh’s contribution was to praise the inherent ambiguity and ambiguity of natural languages as a resource for scientists and engineers, making them better, not worse, for programming control systems. Across this apparently simple bridge have flowed many fuzzy machines, more effective than their over-precise brothers. Zadeh crystallised this wisdom in his ‘Principle of incompatibility’: As the complexity of a system increases, our ability to make precise and yet significant statements about its behaviour decreases until a threshold is reached beyond which precision and significance (or relevance) become almost mutually exclusive characteristics (28) Something along these lines is common wisdom in complexity-1. For instance, under the headline “Law is too complex for juries to understand, says judge” (Dick 4), the Chief Justice of Australia, Murray Gleeson, noted a paradox of complexity, that attempts to improve a system by increasing its complexity make it worse (meaningless or irrelevant, as Zadeh said). The system loses its complexity in another sense, that it no longer holds together. My third concept is the ‘Butterfly Effect’, a name coined by Lorenz. The butterfly was this scientist’s poetic fantasy, an imagined butterfly that flaps its wings somewhere on the Andes, and introduces a small change in the weather system that triggers a hurricane in Montana, or Beijing. This idea is another riff on the idea that complex situations are not reducible to component elements. Every cause is so complex that we can never know in advance just what factor will operate in a given situation, or what its effects might be across a highly complex system. Travels in Complexity I will now explore these issues with reference to a single example, or rather, a nested set of examples, each (as in fractal theory) equivalently complex, yet none identical at any scale. I was travelling in a train from Penrith to Sydney in New South Wales in early 2006 when I read a publicity text from NSW State Rail which asked me: ‘Did you know that delays at Sydenham affect trains to Parramatta? Or that a sick passenger on a train at Berowra can affect trains to Penrith?’ No, I did not know that. As a typical commuter I was impressed, and even more so as an untypical commuter who knows about complexity science. Without ostentatious reference to sources in popular science, NSW Rail was illustrating Lorenz’s ‘butterfly effect’. A sick passenger is prosaic, a realistic illustration of the basic point, that in a highly complex system, a small change in one part, so small that no-one could predict it would matter, can produce a massive, apparently unrelated change in another part. This text was part of a publicity campaign with a scientific complexity-3 subtext, which ran in a variety of forms, in their website, in notices in carriages, on the back of tickets. I will use a complexity framework to suggest different kinds of analysis and project which might interest MaC students, applicable to objects that may not refer to be complexity-3. The text does two distinct things. It describes a planning process, and is part of a publicity program. The first, simplifying movement of Mode-1 analysis would see this difference as projecting two separate objects for two different specialists: a transport expert for the planning, a MaC analyst for the publicity, including the image. Unfortunately, as Zadeh warned, in complex conditions simplification carries an explanatory cost, producing descriptions that are meaningless or irrelevant, even though common sense (complexity-1) says otherwise. What do MaC specialists know about rail systems? What do engineers know about publicity? But collaboration in a mode-2 framework does not need extensive specialist knowledge, only enough to communicate with others. MaC specialists have a fuzzy knowledge of their own and other areas of knowledge, attuned by Humanities complexity-4 to tolerate uncertainty. According to the butterfly principle it would be foolish to wish our University education had equipped us with the necessary other knowledges. We could never predict what precise items of knowledge would be handy from our formal and informal education. The complexity of most mode-2 problems is so great that we cannot predict in advance what we will need to know. MaC is already a complex field, in which ‘Media’ and ‘Culture’ are fuzzy terms which interact in different ways. Media and other organisations we might work with are often imbued with linear forms of thought (complexity-2), and want simple answers to simple questions about complex systems. For instance, MaC researchers might be asked as consultants to determine the effect of this message on typical commuters. That form of analysis is no longer respectable in complexity-4 MaC studies. Old-style (complexity-2) effects-research modelled Senders, Messages and Receivers to measure effects. Standard research methods of complexity-2 social sciences might test effects of the message by a survey instrument, with a large sample to allow statistically significant results. Using this, researchers could claim to know whether the publicity campaign had its desired effect on its targeted demographic: presumably inspiring confidence in NSW Rail. However, each of these elements is complex, and interactions between them, and others that don’t enter into the analysis, create further levels of complexity. To manage this complexity, MaC analysts often draw on Foucault’s authority to use ‘discourse’ to simplify analysis. This does not betray the principle of complexity. Complexity-4 needs a simplicity-complexity dialectic. In this case I propose a ‘complexity discourse’ to encapsulate the complex relations between Senders, Receivers and Messages into a single word, which can then be related to other such elements (e.g. ‘publicity discourse’). In this case complexity-3 can also be produced by attending to details of elements in the S-M-R chain, combining Derridean ‘deconstruction’ with expert knowledge of the situation. This Sender may be some combination of engineers and planners, managers who commissioned the advertisement, media professionals who carried it out. The message likewise loses its unity as its different parts decompose into separate messages, leaving the transaction a fraught, unpredictable encounter between multiple messages and many kinds of reader and sender. Alongside its celebration of complexity-3, this short text runs another message: ‘untangling our complex rail network’. This is complexity-2 from science and engineering, where complexity is only a problem to be removed. A fuller text on the web-site expands this second strand, using bullet points and other signals of a linear approach. In this text, there are 5 uses of ‘reliable’, 6 uses of words for problems of complexity (‘bottlenecks’, ‘delays’, ‘congestion’), and 6 uses of words for the new system (‘simpler’, ‘independent’). ‘Complex’ is used twice, both times negatively. In spite of the impression given by references to complexity-3, this text mostly has a reductionist attitude to complexity. Complexity is the enemy. Then there is the image. Each line is a different colour, and they loop in an attractive way, seeming to celebrate graceful complexity-2. Yet this part of the image is what is going to be eliminated by the new program’s complexity-2. The interesting complexity of the upper part of the image is what the text declares is the problem. What are commuters meant to think? And Railcorp? This media analysis identifies a fissure in the message, which reflects a fissure in the Sender-complex. It also throws up a problem in the culture that produced such interesting allusions to complexity science, but has linear, reductionist attitudes to complexity in its practice. We can ask: where does this cultural problem go, in the organisation, in the interconnected system and bureaucracy it manages? Is this culture implicated in the problems the program is meant to address? These questions are more productive if asked in a collaborative mode-2 framework, with an organisation open to such questions, with complex researchers able to move between different identities, as media analyst, cultural analyst, and commuter, interested in issues of organisation and logistics, engaged with complexity in all senses. I will continue my imaginary mode-2 collaboration with Railcorp by offering them another example of fractal analysis, looking at another instant, captured in a brief media text. On Wednesday 14 March, 2007, two weeks before a State government election, a very small cause triggered a systems failure in the Sydney network. A small carbon strip worth $44 which was not properly attached properly threw Sydney’s transport network into chaos on Wednesday night, causing thousands of commuters to be trapped in trains for hours. (Baker and Davies 7) This is an excellent example of a butterfly effect, but it is not labelled as such, nor regarded positively in this complexity-1 framework. ‘Chaos’ signifies something no-one wants in a transport system. This is popular not scientific reductionism. The article goes on to tell the story of one passenger, Mark MacCauley, a quadriplegic left without power or electricity in a train because the lift was not working. He rang City Rail, and was told that “someone would be in touch in 3 to 5 days” (Baker and Davies 7). He then rang emergency OOO, and was finally rescued by contractors “who happened to be installing a lift at North Sydney” (Baker and Davies 7). My new friends at NSW Rail would be very unhappy with this story. It would not help much to tell them that this is a standard ‘human interest’ article, nor that it is more complex than it looks. For instance, MacCauley is not typical of standard passengers who usually concern complexity-2 planners of rail networks. He is another butterfly, whose specific needs would be hard to predict or cater for. His rescue is similarly unpredictable. Who would have predicted that these contractors, with their specialist equipment, would be in the right place at the right time to rescue him? Complexity provided both problem and solution. The media’s double attitude to complexity, positive and negative, complexity-1 with a touch of complexity-3, is a resource which NSW Rail might learn to use, even though it is presented with such hostility here. One lesson of the complexity is that a tight, linear framing of systems and problems creates or exacerbates problems, and closes off possible solutions. In the problem, different systems didn’t connect: social and material systems, road and rail, which are all ‘media’ in McLuhan’s highly fuzzy sense. NSW Rail communication systems were cumbrously linear, slow (3 to 5 days) and narrow. In the solution, communication cut across institutional divisions, mediated by responsive, fuzzy complex humans. If the problem came from a highly complex system, the solution is a complex response on many fronts: planning, engineering, social and communication systems open to unpredictable input from other surrounding systems. As NSW Rail would have been well aware, the story responded to another context. The page was headed ‘Battle for NSW’, referring to an election in 2 weeks, in which this newspaper editorialised that the incumbent government should be thrown out. This political context is clearly part of the complexity of the newspaper message, which tries to link not just the carbon strip and ‘chaos’, but science and politics, this strip and the government’s credibility. Yet the government was returned with a substantial though reduced majority, not the swingeing defeat that might have been predicted by linear logic (rail chaos = electoral defeat) or by some interpretations of the butterfly effect. But complexity-3 does not say that every small cause produces catastrophic effects. On the contrary, it says that causal situations can be so complex that we can never be entirely sure what effects will follow from any given case. The political situation in all its complexity is an inseparable part of the minimal complex situation which NSW Rail must take into account as it considers how to reform its operations. It must make complexity in all its senses a friend and ally, not just a source of nasty surprises. My relationship with NSW Rail at the moment is purely imaginary, but illustrates positive and negative aspects of complexity as an organising principle for MaC researchers today. The unlimited complexity of Humanities’ complexity-4, Derridean and Foucauldian, can be liberating alongside the sometimes excessive scepticism of Complexity-2, but needs to keep in touch with the ambivalence of popular complexity-1. Complexity-3 connects with complexity-2 and 4 to hold the bundle together, in a more complex, cohesive, yet still unstable dynamic structure. It is this total sprawling, inchoate, contradictory (‘complex’) brand of complexity that I believe will play a key role in the up-coming intellectual revolution. But only time will tell. References Baker, Jordan, and Anne Davies. “Carbon Strip Caused Train Chaos.” Sydney Morning Herald 17 Mar. 2007: 7. Derrida, Jacques. Of Grammatology. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins, 1976. Dick, Tim. “Law Is Now Too Complex for Juries to Understand, Says Judge.” Sydney Morning Herald 26 Mar. 2007: 4. Empson, William. Seven Types of Ambiguity. London: Chatto and Windus, 1930. Foucault, Michel. “The Order of Discourse.” In Archaeology of Knowledge, trans. A.M Sheridan Smith. London: Tavistock, 1972. Gibbons, Michael. The New Production of Knowledge. London: Sage, 1994. Lorenz, Edward. The Essence of Chaos. London: University College, 1993. Lyotard, Jean-Francois. The Postmodern Condition. Manchester: Manchester UP, 1984. McLuhan, Marshall. Understanding Media. London: Routledge, 1964. Mandelbrot, Benoit. “The Fractal Geometry of Nature.” In Nina Hall, ed. The New Scientist Guide to Chaos. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1963. Nowottny, Henry. Rethinking Science. London: Polity, 2001. Snow, Charles Percy. The Two Cultures and the Scientific Revolution. London: Faber 1959. Urry, John. Global Complexity. London: Sage, 2003. Zadeh, Lotfi Asker. “Outline of a New Approach to the Analysis of Complex Systems and Decision Processes.” ILEE Transactions on Systems, Man, and Cybernetics 3.1 (1973): 28-44. 
 
 
 
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