Journal articles on the topic 'The rainbow (Lawrence)'

The reception of the novel by F. M. Dostoevsky “Notes from the Underground” in the works and correspondence of D. H. Lawrence is analyzed in the article. The novelty of the study is in the fact that the influence of this story on Lawrence’s prose is being studied for the first time. Particular attention is paid to Lawrence’s letters to the translator S. S. Kotelyansky, with whom the English writer shared his impressions of reading the works of Russian classics, especially Dostoevsky, as well as to one of the letters addressed to the writer G. Campbell, which contains the only direct reference to “Notes from the Underground” in Lawrence. This letter reveals an individual interpretation of the story by Lawrence. It is proved that this interpretation turns out to be close to the reading of the Notes by L. Shestov. The question is raised about the existing parallels between the text of Dostoevsky and the novels of D. G. Lawrence (“Women in Love”, “The Lost Girl”, “Rainbow” and “Aaron’s Rod”). The similarity is seen in the peculiar interpretation of the Underground concept by Lawrence. It is shown that the image of the Underground in the works of the English writer (usually expressed by the words “underworld”, “subterranean”) is always somehow connected with the irrational principle and is involved in the formation of Lawrence sensualism.

This essay reveals the unexpected yet profound ways stained glass contributes to the representational logic of Lawrence’s fiction, especially his early story “A Fragment of Stained Glass” (1908) and The Rainbow (1915). Lawrence develops a prose style that mimics stained glass’s visual aesthetic—its juxtaposition of translucent, glowing color with opaque line that holds and tempers it—and its power to shape psychological interiors by shaping exterior surroundings. Especially in narrating moments when a character struggles to comprehend her relationship to another person or to the external world, Lawrence’s prose converts stained glass’s organizing principles into syntax, foregrounding the contrasts and overlaps between nouns and adjectives, independent and dependent clauses, and words’ multiple repetitions. In doing so, he formalizes a conceptual parallel: the non-verbal medium’s filtering of white light into netted color is repeated when a writer filters the raw materials of sensory perception into hierarchies we think of as central to the novel—character’s primacy over setting, or representation’s primacy over elaboration. In undoing such hierarchies, Lawrence takes to their logical endpoints late nineteenth-century debates about decorative aesthetics, foregrounding the plastic arts’ emphasis on the expressive power of patterning over depiction.

D. H. Lawrence began to read Schopenhauer and Nietzsche while a student at Nottingham University College. The influence of the two philosophers on his early short stories and his novels from The White Peacock (1911) through to The Rainbow (1915) has been considered at length in books and essays on Lawrence. There has been little discussion to date, though, of the presence of Schopenhauer and Nietzsche in Women in Love (1920). The unmistakably Nietzschean term Wille zur Macht (will to power) appears in the novel and has attracted some critical comment, but there is no equally obvious reference to Schopenhauer, and discussion of Schopenhauer’s influence has been accordingly slight. Lawrence believed, however, that every novel should have a ‘background metaphysic’, and careful examination of Women in Love reveals that its metaphysic, or ‘theory of being’, derives from a combination of Schopenhauer’s and Nietzsche’s philosophical theories.

One cactus and 17 succulent species/cultivars were grown at 10, 16, 22, or 28 °C (plant temperature) for 10 or 15 weeks. The change in leaf/tubercle number at each temperature (after 10 or 15 weeks) was determined, and leaf/tubercle-unfolding rate was calculated. ‘Jade Necklace’ kebab bush (Crassula rupestris ssp. marnieriana), ‘Lola’ echeveria (Echeveria), ‘Green Ice’ gasteraloe (Gasteraloe), and lithops (Lithops species) leaf-unfolding rate per day was unaffected by temperature. Leaf-unfolding rate per day increased as temperature increased from 10 to 16 °C on ‘Firebird’ aloe (Aloe), ‘Key Lime Pie’ adromischus (Adromischus cristatus), prostate rainbow bush (Portulacaria afra variegata), burro’s tail (Sedum burrito), and ‘Sir William Lawrence’ houseleek (Sempervivum calcareum). Leaf-unfolding rate per day increased as temperature increased from 10 to 22 °C on mescal agave (Agave parryi truncata), ‘Firebird’ aloe, Sunrise anacampseros (Anacampseros telephiastrum variegata), ponytail palm (Beaucarnea recurvata), subsessilis echeveria (Echeveria subsessilis), zebra plant (Haworthia fasciata), prostrate rainbow bush, burro’s tail and ‘Sir William Lawrence’ houseleek. Increasing temperature from 22 to 28 °C decreased ‘Kiwi’ tree houseleek (Aeonium percarneum) leaf-unfolding rate per day, increased ‘Firebird’ aloe and tiger tooth aloe (Aloe juvenna) leaf-unfolding rate, and resulted in shoot tip death on burro’s tail, and plant death of ‘Sir William Lawrence’ houseleek and ‘Silver Dollar’ jade (Crassula arborescens). The cactus, ‘Arizona Snowcap’ mammillaria (Mammillaria gracilis fragilis), tubercle-unfolding rate per day increased as temperature increased from 16 to 28 °C. Taken together, temperature (10 to 28 °C) effects on development rate were species specific and related to the indigenous environment of a species.

This paper analyses Ursula, the female protagonist of D. H. Lawrence’s the novel The Rainbow, who reflects her masculinity. Many feminist critics have perceived this novel as man-centered. In response to this analysis of the novel, the paper tries to look at the novel from the perspective of Judith Halberstam’s theoretical concept of female masculinity, especially Ursula as a masculine woman who acts like a man. Female masculinity is not an identity but a site for identification where different identities can flourish, but masculine women possess confidence, assertiveness, and independence. Lawrence gives justice to women’s role by presenting Ursula as a new woman who seeks her individual identity in the traditional world. Through the reading of the novel as its theoretical tool, the research concludes that females can be as males and males can be like females. She acts like a man and that means she has masculine qualities. The novelist portrays Ursula as a woman with masculinity because she can flourish different identities of her life. She plays the role of an independent woman, a liberated woman, a Lesbian woman, and a new woman, etc. She behaves like a tomboy who refuses to accept the Victorian conventions of society. So, she is a masculine woman rather than a feminine woman. This paper emphasizes how a woman can perform like a man; this suggests masculinity is not the private property of a male; it is a social position that can be practiced in an individual way.

This paper considers a number of long fictions from the modernist period to see how far their length serves specifically modernist concerns, especially temporality and history. Various extended narratives suit modernist aesthetic mythopoeia for which Nietzsche's essay on The Advantages and Disadvantages of History for Life provides a philosophical articulation. Joyce's Ulysses, Proust's A la recherche, and Mann's Joseph and his Brothers (along with Lawrence's The Rainbow and Women in Love) are the principal works compared and contrasted. But there are authors who stand apart from these encompassing, if not to say masterful, mythopoeic visions. Musil's unfinished Man without Qualities resists the modes of resolution which in several of the former instances have a strongly masculinist inflection. So too, to a significant extent, does Lawrence with his strongly feminine sensibility. Above all, Virginia Woolf and Dorothy Richardson, while engaging with similar concerns, constitute a critical outside to the mythopoeic grouping.

As part of the Remedial Action Plan (RAP) programs for the St. Lawrence and Spanish Rivers in Ontario, Canada, tainting evaluations were conducted using members of the Public Advisory Committees (PACs) and the RAP teams. Triangle test sensory evaluations were conducted on caged rainbow trout (Salmo gairdneri) exposed insitu upstream and downstream of the pulp and paper mill diffuser outfalls In the St. Lawrence River only, evaluations were conducted on indigenous yellow perch (Perca flavescens) caught upstream and downstream of the mill discharge . In both locations, the odour of the flesh from the caged trout exposed above the diffuser outfall was not judged significantly different from caged trout exposed downstream of the discharge. However, the indigenous perch caught downstream of the mill in the St. Lawrence River were judged by the panelists to have a significantly more objectionable odour than those caught upstream of the discharge. While the effluent tainting potential appears to have been eliminated in the Spanish River, further studies are required to determine the source and magnitude of tainting concerns in the St. Lawrence River. The sensory test and results reported here provide useful tools for evaluating the tainting potential of pulp mill discharges and for assessing perceived consumer quality of the fish exposed to these effluents.

Echinorhynchus salmonis (Acanthocephala) were found in the stomach of a rainbow smelt, Osmerus mordax (Salmoniformes), collected at the confluence of the Aux-Outardes River and St. Lawrence River in Quebec. One acanthocephalan occupied the haemocoel of a recently ingested amphipod (Gammarus lawrencianus), while two other specimens were free in the stomach. This is the first report of G. lawrencianus, an estuarine amphipod, as intermediate host of E. salmonis. This is also the first report of transmission of E. salmonis in an estuarine environment in North America.

The vertical and horizontal distribution of anadromous rainbow smelt (Osmerus mordax) larvae from hatching in their natal river to their occupation of nursery areas in the middle estuary of the St. Lawrence River was documented to describe the mechanism responsible for the retention of smelt larvae in this area. Peaks of larval abundance observed downstream of the spawning grounds indicate a 24-h periodicity in hatching and the introduction of larvae into the riverine circulation. No retention of larvae was observed between the spawning ground and the downstream portion of the natal river. Our evidence indicates daytime accumulation of larvae at the mouth of the natal river, possibly resulting from the negative phototaxis exhibited by small smelt larvae. Patches of smelt larvae were incorporated into the St. Lawrence estuarine water mass once every 24 h at night following high tide. The subsequent downstream transport of larvae in the St. Lawrence estuary appears slower than the advection of the water mass due to the tendency of larvae to remain deeper in the water column during ebb tides and to concentrate near the surface during flood tides. Smelt larvae are transported from the south shore to the partially mixed northern portion of the middle estuary which represents the principal zone of larval smelt accumulation. We propose that the vertical displacements exhibited by smelt larvae in combination with the two-layer circulation system of the northern middle estuary results in the retention of smelt larvae in this region.

The factors involved in the riverine transport and tidal exchange of yolk-sac rainbow smelt (Osmerus mordax) larvae between Ouelle River and the St. Lawrence estuary were documented. A 72-h sampling series provided evidence of synchronous nighttime hatching of larvae independent of water temperature and river hydrodynamics. Although light conditions influence the vertical distribution of yolk-sac larvae at the river's mouth, the influence of current speed on larval vertical distribution appears to be a more important element in the dynamics of riverine drift and tidal exchange. Yolk-sac larvae sink to the bottom as water currents decrease prior to low slack water. With the intrusion of estuarine water along the bottom during the flood, yolk-sac larvae drifting from the river appear to be mixed with larger post yolk-sac larvae of estuarine origin resulting in temporary retention at the mouth of Ouelle River. However, longer ebb phases in the river result in a net transport of smelt larvae towards the St. Lawrence estuary. We conclude that the riverine transport and mixing of yolk-sac larvae with the estuarine water mass is controlled principally by the hydrodynamics of the system and the nighttime hatching and specific gravity of yolk-sac larvae.

Ecological isolation through resource partitioning is invoked as a major factor for explaining the persistence of genetically distinct yet closely related sympatric populations. Two genetically distinct sympatric populations of anadromous rainbow smelt (Osmerus mordax) exist in the middle estuary of the St. Lawrence River. The persistence of these coexisting populations in sympatry is in conflict with current theoretical concepts predicting population richness. In the present study, we performed mtDNA PCR-RFLP analysis of 922 larvae from 33 sampling stations to test the hypothesis that the larvae belonging to the two sympatric smelt populations of the St. Lawrence middle estuary are spatially segregated and that such segregation may promote the persistence of the populations. Results clearly revealed spatial homogeneity in the relative distribution of larvae from the two populations. Consequently, they did not support our working hypothesis that larvae belonging to the two sympatric smelt populations are spatially segregated. Two alternative explanations may account for the lack of spatial partitioning observed here. Competition may not be important enough to promote resource partitioning at the larval stage. Alternatively, resource partitioning occurs, but not spatially. This study also demonstrated that the effect of historical events may have been as important as contemporary ecological settings in determining genetic population structure in smelt.

Isoelectric focusing (IEF) was performed on soluble protein extracts from whole specimens of third-stage larval sealworm (Pseudoterranova decipiens) recovered from the musculature of three fish intermediate host species: Atlantic cod (Gadus morhua), sea raven (Hemitripterus americanus), and rainbow smelt (Osmerus mordax). The fish were collected at various sites in the Canadian Atlantic, and IEF revealed the occurrence of two "variants" within what has previously been considered a single, uniform species of P. decipiens in these waters. The larvae were characterized by the absence ("type I" L3's) or presence ("type II" L3's) of a sharp, dark-staining protein band with a mean pl of 6.46 pH units. Type I larvae were predominant at two sites sampled in the lower Bay of Fundy, while type II larvae were predominant at three sites sampled in the Gulf of St. Lawrence region.

Abstract Samples of 25 dead beluga whales (Delphinapterus leucas) from the St. Lawrence River estuary, as well as samples of 10 rainbow trout (Oncorhynchus mykiss) and 3 carp (Cyprinus carpio) caught in western Lake Ontario were analyzed for total short- (C10-C13) and medium-(C14-C17) chain chlorinated paraffins (SMCCPs) using gas chromatography-low resolution negative chemical ioniza-tion mass spectrometry (GC-NCI-MS) in the selected ion monitoring mode (SIM). Short- and medium-chain chlorinated paraffins were quantitatively identified using two commercial preparations. SMCCPs were detected in all samples. Results ranged from 1.1 to 59 µg/g wet weight in beluga liver tissue, from 6.4 to 166 µg/g wet weight in beluga blubber, and from 0.41 to 9.7 µg/g wet weight in the two freshwater species. The beluga results are higher than those reported for marine mammals in Europe. Total short- and medium-chain chlorinated paraffin levels in the beluga blubber are comparable to previous ∑PCB and ∑DDT results for the same population of beluga whales. The mean ∑SMC-CP concentration in the carp was 0.90 µg/g wet weight and 2.7 µg/g wet weight in the rainbow trout. Results from the freshwater species are comparable to those reported for fish sampled from other industrially impacted waterways in North America but are elevated relative to marine species from European studies. Comparison of the SIM GC-NCI-MS data with results of gas chromatogra-phy-high resolution negative ion mass spectrometry (GC-HR-NIMS) analysis from another study showed that the two analytical techniques are not congruent. The differences may be due to the effects of coeluting interfering organochlorine substances.

THE obvious, and potentially most effective, remedy for breach of a repairing covenant in a lease is specific performance. All such decrees are of course discretionary. Although there are “well-established principles which govern the exercise of the discretion . . . these, like all equitable principles, are flexible and adaptable to achieve the ends of equity” (per Lord Hoffmann in Co-operative Insurance Society Ltd. v. Argyll Stores (Holdings) Ltd. [1998] A.C. 1, 9). However, since the decision of Lord Eldon L.C. in Hill v. Barclay (1810) 16 Ves. 402, specific performance of repairing covenants was considered generally unavailable on three grounds: the want of mutuality between landlord and tenant; the impossibility of defining adequately the works to be done; and the need for the constant supervision of the court to ensure that effective compliance is obtained. In its 1996 Report on Landlord and Tenant: Responsibility for State and Condition of Property (Law Com. No. 238), the Law Commission recommended legislation to give the court power to make orders for specific performance in any lease or tenancy. Now, the High Court appears to have made legislation unnecessary. In Rainbow Estates Ltd. v. Tokenhold Ltd. [1999] Ch. 64 (Lawrence Collins Q.C. sitting as a deputy) it has done Parliament's work for it.

The opening chapters of Lawrence’s The Rainbow is modeled on the Bible in terms of its narrative discourse and profound implication. The novel begins with a pastoral portrayal of the Marsh Farm where mankind forms a blood-intimate and reciprocal relationship with the natural world. But driven by man’s own eagerness to pursue knowledge and pushed by the development of industrialization, man’s unconscious closeness with nature gradually gives way to the birth of self-consciousness which alienates him from the natural world, thus thrusting him into an ontological existence.

The genus Olios Walckenaer, 1837 is revised, a generic diagnosis is given and an identification key to eight species groups is provided. Olios in its revised sense includes 87 species and is distributed in Africa, southern Europe and Asia. Three species groups are revised in this first part, an identification key to species for each group is provided, five new species are described and all included species are illustrated. The Olios argelasius-group includes O. argelasius Walckenaer, 1806, O. canariensis (Lucas, 1838), O. pictus (Simon, 1885), O. fasciculatus Simon, 1880 and O. kunzi spec. nov. (male, female; Namibia, Zambia, South Africa); it is distributed in the Mediterranean region, northern Africa including Canary Islands, in the Middle East, South Sudan, East Africa, and southern Africa. The Olios coenobitus-group includes O. angolensis spec. nov. (male; Angola), O. coenobitus Fage, 1926, O. denticulus spec. nov. (male; Java), O. erraticus Fage, 1926, O. gambiensis spec. nov. (male, female; Gambia), O. milleti (Pocock, 1901b), O. mordax (O. Pickard-Cambridge, 1899) and O. pusillus Simon, 1880; it is distributed in Africa (Gambia, Angola, Tanzania, Madagascar) and Asia (India, Sri Lanka, Indonesia: Java). The Olios auricomis-group includes only O. auricomis (Simon, 1880), distributed in Africa south of 10°N. Other species groups are introduced briefly and will be revised in forthcoming revisions. The Olios correvoni-group includes currently O. claviger (Pocock, 1901a), O. correvoni Lessert, 1921, O. correvoni choupangensis Lessert, 1936, O. darlingi (Pocock, 1901a), O. faesi Lessert, 1933, O. freyi Lessert, 1929, O. kassenjicola Strand, 1916b, O. kruegeri (Simon, 1897a), O. quadrispilotus (Simon, 1880) comb. nov., O. lucieni comb. nov. nom. nov., O. sjostedti Lessert, 1921 and O. triarmatus Lessert, 1936; it is distributed in Africa (Zimbabwe, Tanzania incl. Zanzibar, Angola, Congo, Central Africa, South Africa, Botswana; O. darlingi was recorded from Zimbabwe and Botswana and not from South Africa). The Olios rossettii-group includes: O. baulnyi (Simon, 1874), O. bhattacharjeei (Saha & Raychaudhuri, 2007), O. brachycephalus Lawrence, 1938, O. floweri Lessert, 1921, O. jaldaparaensis Saha & Raychaudhuri, 2007, O. japonicus Jäger & Ono, 2000, O. kolosvaryi (Caporiacco, 1947b) comb. nov., O. longipes (Simon, 1884b), O. lutescens (Thorell, 1894), O. mahabangkawitus Barrion & Litsinger, 1995, O. obesulus (Pocock, 1901b), O. rossettii (Leardi, 1901), O. rotundiceps (Pocock, 1901b), O. sericeus (Kroneberg, 1875), O. sherwoodi Lessert, 1929, O. suavis (O. Pickard-Cambridge, 1876), O. tarandus (Simon, 1897d), O. tener (Thorell, 1891) and O. tiantongensis (Zhang & Kim, 1996); it is distributed in the Mediterranean region, in Africa (especially eastern half) and Asia (Middle East and Central Asia to Japan, Philippines and Java). The Olios nentwigi-group includes O. diao Jäger, 2012, O. digitatus Sun, Li & Zhang, 2011, O. jaenicke Jäger, 2012, O. muang Jäger, 2012, O. nanningensis (Hu & Ru, 1988), O. nentwigi spec. nov. (male, female; Indonesia: Krakatau), O. perezi Barrion & Litsinger, 1995, O. scalptor Jäger & Ono, 2001 and O. suung Jäger, 2012; it is distributed in Asia (Thailand, Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia, China, Taiwan, Indonesia, Philippines), Papua New Guinea and Mariana Islands. Olios diao is newly recorded from Cambodia and Champasak Province in Laos. The Olios stimulator-group includes O. admiratus (Pocock, 1901b), O. hampsoni (Pocock, 1901b), O. lamarcki (Latreille, 1806) and O. stimulator Simon, 1897c; it is distributed in Africa (Madagascar, Seychelles), Middle East and South Asia (United Arab Emirates, Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan, India, Maldives, Sri Lanka). The Olios hirtus-group includes O. bungarensis Strand, 1913b, O. debalae (Biswas & Roy, 2005), O. ferox (Thorell, 1892), O. hirtus (Karsch, 1879a), O. igraya (Barrion & Litsinger, 1995) comb. nov., O. menghaiensis (Wang & Zhang, 1990), O. nigrifrons (Simon, 1897b), O. punctipes Simon, 1884a, O. punctipes sordidatus (Thorell, 1895), O. pyrozonis (Pocock, 1901b), O. sungaya (Barrion & Litsinger, 1995) comb. nov., O. taprobanicus Strand, 1913b and O. tikaderi Kundu et al., 1999; it is distributed in South, East and Southeast Asia (Sri Lanka, India, Nepal, Bangladesh, Myanmar, China, Laos, Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, Malaysia, Indonesia, Philippines). Nineteen synonyms are recognised: Nisueta Simon, 1880, Nonianus Simon, 1885, both = Olios syn. nov.; O. spenceri Pocock, 1896, O. werneri (Simon, 1906a), O. albertius Strand, 1913a, O. banananus Strand, 1916a, O. aristophanei Lessert, 1936, all = O. fasciculatus; O. subpusillus Strand, 1907c = O. pusillus; O. schonlandi (Pocock, 1900b), O. rufilatus Pocock, 1900c, O. chiracanthiformis Strand, 1906, O. ituricus Strand, 1913a, O. isongonis Strand, 1915, O. flavescens Caporiacco, 1941 comb. nov., O. pacifer Lessert, 1921, all = O. auricomis; Olios sanguinifrons (Simon, 1906b) = O. rossettii Leardi, 1901; O. phipsoni (Pocock, 1899), Sparassus iranii (Pocock, 1901b), both = O. stimulator; O. fuligineus (Pocock, 1901b) = O. hampsoni. Nine species are transferred to Olios: O. gaujoni (Simon, 1897b) comb. nov., O. pictus comb. nov., O. unilateralis (Strand, 1908b) comb. nov. (all three from Nonianus), O. affinis (Strand, 1906) comb. nov., O. flavescens Caporiacco, 1941 comb. nov., O. quadrispilotus comb. nov., O. similis (Berland, 1922) comb. nov. (all four from Nisueta), O. sungaya (Barrion & Litsinger, 1995) comb. nov., O. igraya (Barrion & Litsinger, 1995) comb. nov. (both from Isopeda L. Koch 1875). Olios lucieni nom. nov. comb. nov. is proposed for Nisueta similis Berland, 1922, which becomes a secondary homonym. The male of O. quadrispilotus comb. nov. is described for the first time. Sixteen species are currently without affiliation to one of the eight species groups: O. acolastus (Thorell, 1890), O. alluaudi Simon, 1887a, O. batesi (Pocock, 1900c), O. bhavnagarensis Sethi & Tikader, 1988, O. croseiceps (Pocock, 1898b), O. durlaviae Biswas & Raychaudhuri, 2005, O. gentilis (Karsch, 1879b), O. gravelyi Sethi & Tikader, 1988, O. greeni (Pocock, 1901b), O. inaequipes (Simon 1890), O. punjabensis Dyal, 1935, O. ruwenzoricus Strand, 1913a, O. senilis Simon, 1880, O. somalicus Caporiacco, 1940, O. wroughtoni (Simon, 1897c) and O. zulu Simon, 1880. Five of these species are illustrated in order to allow identification of the opposite (male) sex and to settle their systematic placement. Thirty-seven species are considered nomina dubia, mostly because they were described from immatures, three of them are illustrated: O. abnormis (Blackwall, 1866), O. affinis (Strand, 1906) comb. nov., O. africanus (Karsch, 1878), O. amanensis Strand, 1907a, O. annandalei (Simon, 1901), O. bivittatus Roewer, 1951, O. ceylonicus (Leardi, 1902), O. conspersipes (Thorell, 1899), Palystes derasus (C.L. Koch, 1845) comb. nov., O. detritus (C.L. Koch, 1845), O. digitalis Eydoux & Souleyet, 1842, O. exterritorialis Strand, 1907b, O. flavovittatus (Caporiacco, 1935), O. fugax (O. Pickard-Cambridge, 1885), O. guineibius Strand, 1911c, O. guttipes (Simon, 1897a), O. kiranae Sethi & Tikader, 1988, O. longespinus Caporiacco, 1947b, O. maculinotatus Strand, 1909, O. morbillosus (MacLeay, 1827), O. occidentalis (Karsch, 1879b), O. ornatus (Thorell, 1877), O. pagurus Walckenaer, 1837, O. patagiatus (Simon, 1897b), O. praecinctus (L. Koch, 1865), O. provocator Walckenaer, 1837, O. quesitio Moradmand, 2013, O. quinquelineatus Taczanowski, 1872, O. sexpunctatus Caporiacco, 1947a, Heteropoda similaris (Rainbow, 1898) comb. rev., O. socotranus (Pocock, 1903), O. striatus (Blackwall, 1867), O. timidus (O. Pickard-Cambridge, 1885), Remmius variatus (Thorell, 1899) comb. nov., O. vittifemur Strand, 1916b, O. wolfi Strand, 1911a and O. zebra (Thorell, 1881). Eighty-nine species are misplaced in Olios but cannot be affiliated to any of the known genera. They belong to the subfamilies Deleninae Hogg, 1903, Sparassinae Bertkau, 1872 and Palystinae Simon, 1897a, nineteen of them are illustrated: O. acostae Schenkel, 1953, O. actaeon (Pocock, 1898c), O. artemis Hogg, 1915, O. atomarius Simon, 1880, O. attractus Petrunkevitch, 1911, O. auranticus Mello-Leitão, 1918, O. benitensis (Pocock, 1900c), O. berlandi Roewer, 1951, O. biarmatus Lessert, 1925, O. canalae Berland, 1924, O. caprinus Mello-Leitão, 1918, O. chelifer Lawrence, 1937, O. chubbi Lessert, 1923, O. clarus (Keyserling, 1880), O. coccineiventris (Simon, 1880), O. corallinus Schmidt, 1971, O. crassus Banks, 1909, O. debilipes Mello-Leitão, 1945, O. discolorichelis Caporiacco, 1947a, O. erroneus O. Pickard-Cambridge, 1890, O. extensus Berland, 1924, O. fasciiventris Simon, 1880 , O. feldmanni Strand, 1915, O. fimbriatus Chrysanthus, 1965, O. flavens Nicolet, 1849, O. fonticola (Pocock, 1902), O. formosus Banks, 1929, O. francoisi (Simon, 1898a), O. fulvithorax Berland, 1924, O. galapagoensis Banks, 1902, O. gaujoni (Simon, 1897b) comb. nov., O. giganteus Keyserling, 1884, O. hoplites Caporiacco, 1941, O. humboldtianus Berland, 1924, O. insignifer Chrysanthus, 1965, O. insulanus (Thorell, 1881), O. keyserlingi (Simon, 1880), O. lacticolor Lawrence, 1952, O. lepidus Vellard, 1924, O. longipedatus Roewer, 1951, O. machadoi Lawrence, 1952, O. macroepigynus Soares, 1944, O. maculatus Blackwall, 1862, O. marshalli (Pocock, 1898a), O. mathani (Simon, 1880), O. minensis Mello-Leitão, 1917, O. monticola Berland, 1924, O. mutabilis Mello-Leitão, 1917, O. mygalinus Doleschall, 1857, O. mygalinus cinctipes Merian, 1911, O. mygalinus nirgripalpis Merian, 1911, O. neocaledonicus Berland, 1924, O. nigristernis (Simon, 1880), O. nigriventris Taczanowski, 1872, O. oberzelleri Kritscher, 1966, O. obscurus (Keyserling, 1880), O. obtusus F.O. Pickard-Cambridge, 1900, O. orchiticus Mello-Leitão, 1930, O. oubatchensis Berland, 1924, O. paraensis (Keyserling, 1880), O. pellucidus (Keyserling, 1880), O. peruvianus Roewer, 1951, O. pictitarsis Simon, 1880, O. plumipes Mello-Leitão, 1937, O. princeps Hogg, 1914, O. pulchripes (Thorell, 1899), O. puniceus (Simon, 1880), O. roeweri Caporiacco, 1955a, O. rubripes Taczanowski, 1872, O. rubriventris (Thorell, 1881), O. rufus Keyserling, 1880, O. sanctivincenti (Simon, 1898b), O. similis (O. Pickard-Cambridge, 1890), O. simoni (O. Pickard-Cambridge, 1890), O. skwarrae Roewer, 1933, O. spinipalpis (Pocock, 1901a), O. stictopus (Pocock, 1898a), O. strandi Kolosváry, 1934, O. subadultus Mello-Leitão, 1930, O. sulphuratus (Thorell, 1899), O. sylvaticus (Blackwall, 1862), O. tamerlani Roewer, 1951, O. tigrinus (Keyserling, 1880), O. trifurcatus (Pocock, 1900c), O. trinitatis Strand, 1916a, O. velox (Simon, 1880), O. ventrosus Nicolet, 1849, O. vitiosus Vellard, 1924 and O. yucatanus Chamberlin, 1925. Seventeen taxa are transferred from Olios to other genera within Sparassidae, eight of them are illustrated: Adcatomus luteus (Keyserling, 1880) comb. nov., Eusparassus flavidus (O. Pickard-Cambridge, 1885) comb. nov., Palystes derasus (C.L. Koch, 1845) comb. nov., Heteropoda similaris (Rainbow, 1898) comb. rev., Remmius variatus (Thorell, 1899) comb. nov., Nolavia audax (Banks, 1909) comb. nov., Nolavia antiguensis (Keyserling, 1880) comb. nov., Nolavia antiguensis columbiensis (Schmidt, 1971) comb. nov., Nolavia fuhrmanni (Strand, 1914) comb. nov., Nolavia helva (Keyserling, 1880) comb. nov., Nolavia stylifer (F.O. Pickard-Cambridge, 1900) comb. nov., Nolavia valenciae (Strand, 1916a) comb. nov., Nungara cayana (Taczanowski, 1872) comb. nov., Polybetes bombilius (F.O. Pickard-Cambridge, 1899) comb. nov., Polybetes fasciatus (Keyserling, 1880) comb. nov., Polybetes hyeroglyphicus (Mello-Leitão, 1918) comb. nov. and Prychia paalonga (Barrion & Litsinger, 1995) comb. nov. One species is transferred from Olios to the family Clubionidae Wagner, 1887: Clubiona paenuliformis (Strand, 1916a) comb. nov.

Introduction The counterculture that arose during the 1960s and 1970s left lasting social and political reverberations in developed nations. This was a time of increasing affluence and liberalisation which opened up remarkable political opportunities for social change. Within this context, an array of new social movements were a vital ingredient of the ferment that saw existing norms challenged and the establishment of new rights for many oppressed groups. An expanding arena of concerns included the environmental damage caused by 200 years of industrial capitalism. This article examines one aspect of a current environment movement in Australia, the anti-Coal Seam Gas (CSG) movement, and the part played by participants. In particular, the focus is upon one action that emerged during the recent Bentley Blockade, which was a regional mobilisation against proposed unconventional gas mining (UGM) near Lismore, NSW. Over the course of the blockade, the conventional ritual of waving at passers-by was transformed into a mechanism for garnering broad community support. Arguably, this was a crucial factor in the eventual outcome. In this case, we contend that the wave, rather than a countercultural artefact being appropriated by the mainstream, represents an everyday behaviour that builds social solidarity, which is subverted to become an effective part of the repertoire of the movement. At a more general level, this article examines how counterculture and mainstream interact via the subversion of “ordinary” citizens and the role of certain cultural understandings for that purpose. We will begin by examining the nature of the counterculture and its relationship to social movements before discussing the character of the anti-CSG movement in general and the Bentley Blockade in particular, using the personal experience of one of the writers. We will then be able to explore our thesis in detail and make some concluding remarks. The Counterculture and Social Movements In this article, we follow Cox’s understanding of the counterculture as a kind of meta-movement within which specific social movements are situated. For Cox (105), the counterculture that flourished during the 1960s and 1970s was an overarching movement in which existing social relations—in particular the family—were rejected by a younger generation, who succeeded in effectively fusing previously separate political and cultural spheres of dissent into one. Cox (103-04) points out that the precondition for such a phenomenon is “free space”—conditions under which counter-hegemonic activity can occur—for example, being liberated from the constraints of working to subsist, something which the unprecedented prosperity of the post WWII years allowed. Hence, in the 1960s and 1970s, as the counterculture emerged, a wave of activism arose in the western world which later came to be referred to as new social movements. These included the civil rights movement, women’s liberation, pacifism and the anti-nuclear and environment movements. The new movements rejected established power and organisational structures and tended, some scholars argued, to cross class lines, basing their claims on non-material issues. Della Porta and Diani claim this wave of movements is characterised by: a critical ideology in relation to modernism and progress; decentralized and participatory organizational structures; defense of interpersonal solidarity against the great bureaucracies; and the reclamation of autonomous spaces, rather than material advantages. (9) This depiction clearly announces the countercultural nature of the new social movements. As Carter (91) avers, these movements attempted to bypass the state and instead mobilise civil society, employing a range of innovative tactics and strategies—the repertoire of action—which may involve breaking laws. It should be noted that over time, some of these movements did shift towards accommodation of existing power structures and became more reformist in nature, to the point of forming political parties in the case of the Greens. However, inasmuch as the counterculture represented a merging of distinctively non-mainstream ways of life with the practice of actively challenging social arrangements at a political level (Cox 18–19; Grossberg 15–18;), the tactic of mobilising civil society to join social movements demonstrates in fact a reverse direction: large numbers of people are transfigured in radical ways by their involvement in social movements. One important principle underlying much of the repertoire of action of these new movements was non-violence. Again, this signals countercultural norms of the period. As Sharp (583–86) wrote at the time, non-violence is crucial in that it denies the aggressor their rationale for violent repression. This principle is founded on the liberal notion, whose legacy goes back to Locke, that the legitimacy of the government rests upon the consent of the governed—that is, the people can withdraw their consent (Locke in Ball & Dagger 92). Ghandi also relied upon this idea when formulating his non-violent approach to conflict, satyagraha (Sharp 83–84). Thus an idea that upholds the modern state is adopted by the counterculture in order to undermine it (the state), again demonstrating an instance of counterflow from the mainstream. Non-violence does not mean non-resistance. In fact, it usually involves non-compliance with a government or other authority and when practised in large numbers, can be very effective, as Ghandi and those in the civil rights movement showed. The result will be either that the government enters into negotiation with the protestors, or they can engage in violence to suppress them, which generally alienates the wider population, leading to a loss of support (Finley & Soifer 104–105). Tarrow (88) makes the important point that the less threatening an action, the harder it is to repress. As a result, democratic states have generally modified their response towards the “strategic weapon of nonviolent protest and even moved towards accommodation and recognition of this tactic as legitimate” (Tarrow 172). Nevertheless, the potential for state violence remains, and the freedom to protest is proscribed by various laws. One of the key figures to emerge from the new social movements that formed an integral part of the counterculture was Bill Moyer, who, in conjunction with colleagues produced a seminal text for theorising and organising social movements (Moyer et al.). Many contemporary social movements have been significantly influenced by Moyer’s Movement Action Plan (MAP), which describes not only key theoretical concepts but is also a practical guide to movement building and achieving aims. Moyer’s model was utilised in training the Northern Rivers community in the anti-CSG movement in conjunction with the non-violent direct action (NVDA) model developed by the North-East Forest Alliance (NEFA) that resisted logging in the forests of north-eastern NSW during the late 1980s and 1990s (Ricketts 138–40). Indeed, the Northern Rivers region of NSW—dubbed the Rainbow Region—is celebrated, as a “‘meeting place’ of countercultures and for the articulation of social and environmental ideals that challenge mainstream practice” (Ward and van Vuuren 63). As Bible (6–7) outlines, the Northern Rivers’ place in countercultural history is cemented by the holding of the Aquarius Festival in Nimbin in 1973 and the consequent decision of many attendees to stay on and settle in the region. They formed new kinds of communities based on an alternative ethics that eschewed a consumerist, individualist agenda in favour of modes of existence that emphasised living in harmony with the environment. The Terania Creek campaign of the late 1970s made the region famous for its environmental activism, when the new settlers resisted the logging of Nightcap National Park using nonviolent methods (Bible 5). It was also instrumental in developing an array of ingenious actions that were used in subsequent campaigns such as the Franklin Dam blockade in Tasmania in the early 1980s (Kelly 116). Indeed, many of these earlier activists were key figures in the anti-CSG movement that has developed in the Rainbow Region over the last few years. The Anti-CSG Movement Despite opposition to other forms of UGM, such as tight sands and shale oil extraction techniques, the term anti-CSG is used here, as it still seems to attract wide recognition. Unconventional gas extraction usually involves a process called fracking, which is the injection at high pressure of water, sand and a number of highly toxic chemicals underground to release the gas that is trapped in rock formations. Among the risks attributed to fracking are contamination of aquifers, air pollution from fugitive emissions and exposure to radioactive particles with resultant threats to human and animal health, as well as an increased risk of earthquakes (Ellsworth; Hand 13; Sovacool 254–260). Additionally, the vast amount of water that is extracted in the fracking process is saline and may contain residues of the fracking chemicals, heavy metals and radioactive matter. This produced water must either be stored or treated (Howarth 273–73; Sovacool 255). Further, there is potential for accidents and incidents and there are many reports—particularly in the United States where the practice is well established—of adverse events such as compressors exploding, leaks and spills, and water from taps catching fire (Sovacool 255–257). Despite an abundance of anecdotal evidence, until recently authorities and academics believed there was not enough “rigorous evidence” to make a definitive judgment of harm to animal and human health as a result of fracking (Mitka 2135). For example, in Australia, the Queensland Government was unable to find a clear link between fracking and health complaints in the Tara gasfield (Thompson 56), even though it is known that there are fugitive emissions from these gasfields (Tait et al. 3099-103). It is within this context that grassroots opposition to UGM began in Australia. The largest and most sustained challenge has come from the Northern Rivers of New South Wales, where a company called Metgasco has been attempting to engage in UGM for a number of years. Stiff community opposition has developed over this time, with activists training, co-ordinating and organising using the principles of Moyer’s MAP and NEFA’s NVDA. Numerous community and affinity groups opposing UGM sprang up including the Lock the Gate Alliance (LTG), a grassroots organisation opposing coal and gas mining, which formed in 2010 (Lock the Gate Alliance online). The movement put up sustained resistance to Metgasco’s attempts to establish wells at Glenugie, near Grafton and Doubtful Creek, near Kyogle in 2012 and 2013, despite the use of a substantial police presence at both locations. In the event, neither site was used for production despite exploratory wells being sunk (ABC News; Dobney). Metgasco announced it would be withdrawing its operations following new Federal and State government regulations at the time of the Doubtful Creek blockade. However it returned to the fray with a formal announcement in February 2014 (Metgasco), that it would drill at Bentley, 12 kilometres west of Lismore. It was widely believed this would occur with a view to production on an industrial scale should initial exploration prove fruitful. The Bentley Blockade It was known well before the formal announcement that Metgasco planned to drill at Bentley and community actions such as flash mobs, media releases and planning meetings were part of the build-up to direct action at the site. One of the authors of this article was actively involved in the movement and participated in a variety of these actions. By the end of January 2014 it was decided to hold an ongoing vigil at the site, which was still entirely undeveloped. Participants, including one author, volunteered for four-hour shifts which began at 5 a.m. each day and before long, were lasting into the night. The purpose of a vigil is to bear witness, maintain a presence and express a point of view. It thus accords well with the principle of non-violence. Eventually the site mushroomed into a tent village with three gates being blockaded. The main gate, Gate A, sprouted a variety of poles, tripods and other installations together with colourful tents and shelters, peopled by protesters on a 24-hour basis. The vigils persisted on all three gates for the duration of the blockade. As the number of blockaders swelled, popular support grew, lending weight to the notion that countercultural ideas and practices were spreading throughout the community. In response, Metgasco called on the State Government to provide police to coincide with the arrival of equipment. It was rumoured that 200 police would be drafted to defend the site in late April. When alerts were sent out to the community warning of imminent police action, an estimated crowd of 2000 people attended in the early hours of the morning and the police called off their operation (Feliu). As the weeks wore on, training was stepped up, attendees were educated in non-violent resistance and protestors willing to act as police liaison persons were placed on a rotating roster. In May, the State Government was preparing to send up to 800 police and the Riot Squad to break the blockade (NSW Hansard in Buckingham). Local farmers (now a part of the movement) and activist leaders had gone to Sydney in an effort to find a political solution in order to avoid what threatened to be a clash that would involve police violence. A confluence of events, such as: the sudden resignation of the Premier; revelations via the Independent Commission against Corruption about nefarious dealings and undue influence of the coal industry upon the government; a radio interview with locals by a popular broadcaster in Sydney; and the reputed hesitation of the police themselves in engaging with a group of possibly 7,000 to 10,000 protestors, resulted in the Office for Coal Seam Gas suspending Metgasco’s drilling licence on 15 May (NSW Department of Resources & Energy). The grounds were that the company had not adequately fulfilled its obligations to consult with the community. At the date of writing, the suspension still holds. The Wave The repertoire of contention at the Bentley Blockade was expansive, comprising most of the standard actions and strategies developed in earlier environmental struggles. These included direct blocking tactics in addition to the use of more carnivalesque actions like music and theatre, as well as the use of various media to reach a broader public. Non-violence was at the core of all actions, but we would tentatively suggest that Bentley may have provided a novel addition to the repertoire, stemming originally from the vigil, which brought the first protestors to the site. At the beginning of the vigil, which was initially held near the entrance to the proposed drilling site atop a cutting, occupants of passing vehicles below would demonstrate their support by sounding their horns and/or waving to the vigil-keepers, who at first were few in number. There was a precedent for this behaviour in the campaign leading up to the blockade. Activist groups such as the Knitting Nannas against Gas had encouraged vehicles to show support by sounding their horns. So when the motorists tooted spontaneously at Bentley, we waved back. Occupants of other vehicles would show disapproval by means of rude gestures and/or yelling and we would wave to them as well. After some weeks, as a presence began to be established at the site, it became routine for vigil keepers to smile and wave at all passing vehicles. This often elicited a positive response. After the first mass call-out discussed above, a number of us migrated to another gate, where numbers were much sparser and there was a perceived need for a greater presence. At this point, the participating writer had begun to act as a police liaison person, but the practice of waving routinely was continued. Those protecting this gate usually included protestors ready to block access, the police liaison person, a legal observer, vigil-keepers and a passing parade of visitors. Because this location was directly on the road, it was possible to see the drivers of vehicles and make eye contact more easily. Certain vehicles became familiar, passing at regular times, on the way to work or school, for example. As time passed, most of those protecting the gate also joined the waving ritual to the point where it became like a game to try to prise a signal of acknowledgement from the passing motorists, or even to win over a disapprover. Police vehicles, some of which passed at set intervals, were included in this game. Mostly they waved cheerfully. There were some we never managed to win over, but waving and making direct eye contact with regular motorists over time created a sense of community and an acknowledgement of the work we were doing, as they increasingly responded in kind. Motorists could hardly feel threatened when they encountered smiling, waving protestors. By including the disapprovers, we acted inclusively and our determined good humour seemed to de-escalate demonstrated hostility. Locals who did not want drilling to go ahead but who were nevertheless unwilling to join a direct action were thus able to participate in the resistance in a way that may have felt safe for them. Some of them even stopped and visited the site, voicing their support. Standing on the side of the road and waving to passers-by may seem peripheral to the “real” action, even trivial. But we would argue it is a valuable adjunct to a blockade (which is situated near a road) when one of the strategies of the overall campaign is to win popular backing. Hence waving, whilst not a completely new part of the repertoire, constitutes what Tilly (41–45) would call innovation at the margins, something he asserts is necessary to maintain the effectiveness and vitality of contentious action. In this case, it is arguable that the sheer size of community support probably helped to concentrate the minds of the state government politicians in Sydney, particularly as they contemplated initiating a massive, taxpayer-funded police action against the people for the benefit of a commercial operation. Waving is a symbolic gesture indicating acknowledgement and goodwill. It fits well within a repertoire based on the principle of non-violence. Moreover, it is a conventional social norm and everyday behaviour that is so innocuous that it is difficult to see how it could be suppressed by police or other authorities. Therein lies its subversiveness. For in communicating our common humanity in a spirit of friendliness, we drew attention to the fact that we were without rancour and tacitly invited others to join us and to explore our concerns. In this way, the counterculture drew upon a mainstream custom to develop and extend upon a new form of dissent. This constitutes a reversal of the more usual phenomenon of countercultural artefacts—such as “hippie clothing”—being appropriated or co-opted by the prevailing culture (see Reading). But it also fits with the more general phenomenon that we have argued was occurring; that of enticing ordinary residents into joining together in countercultural activity, via the pathway of a social movement. Conclusion The anti-CSG movement in the Northern Rivers was developed and organised by countercultural participants of previous contentious challenges. It was highly effective in building popular support whilst at the same time forging a loose coalition of various activist groups. We have surveyed one practice—the wave—that evolved out of mainstream culture over the course of the Bentley Blockade and suggested it may come to be seen as part of the repertoire of actions that can be beneficially employed under suitable conditions. Waving to passers-by invites them to become part of the movement in a non-threatening and inclusive way. It thus envelops supporters and non-supporters alike, and its very innocuousness makes it difficult to suppress. We have argued that this instance can be referenced to a similar reverse movement at a broader level—that of co-opting liberal notions and involving the general populace in new practices and activities that undermine the status quo. The ability of the counterculture in general and environment movements in particular to innovate in the quest to challenge and change what it perceives as damaging or unethical practices demonstrates its ingenuity and spirit. This movement is testament to its dynamic nature. References ABC News. Metgasco Has No CSG Extraction Plans for Glenugie. 2013. 30 July 2014 ‹http://www.abc.net.au/news/2013-01-22/metgasco-says-no-csg-extraction-planned-for-glenugie/4477652›. Bible, Vanessa. Aquarius Rising: Terania Creek and the Australian Forest Protest Movement. Bachelor of Arts (Honours) Thesis, University of New England, 2010. 4 Nov. 2014 ‹http://www.rainforestinfo.org.au/terania/Vanessa%27s%20Terania%20Thesis2.pdf›. Buckingham, Jeremy. Hansard of Bentley Blockade Motion 15/05/2014. 16 May 2014. 30 July 2014 ‹http://jeremybuckingham.org/2014/05/16/hansard-of-bentley-blockade-motion-moved-by-david-shoebridge-15052014/›. Carter, Neil. The Politics of the Environment: Ideas, Activism, Policy. 2nd ed. New York: Cambridge UP, 2007. Cox, Laurence. Building Counter Culture: The Radical Praxis of Social Movement Milieu. Helsinki: Into-ebooks 2011. 23 July 2014 ‹http://www.into-ebooks.com/book/building_counter_culture/›. Della Porta, Donatella, and Mario Diani. Social Movements: An Introduction. 2nd ed. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2006. Dobney, Chris. “Drill Rig Heads to Doubtful Creek.” Echo Netdaily Feb. 2013. 30 July 2014 ‹http://www.echo.net.au/2013/02/drill-rig-heads-to-doubtful-creek/›. Ellsworth, William. “Injection-Induced Earthquakes”. Science 341.6142 (2013). DOI: 10.1126/science.1225942. 10 July 2014 ‹http://www.sciencemag.org.ezproxy.scu.edu.au/content/341/6142/1225942.full?sid=b4679ca5-0992-4ad3-aa3e-1ac6356f10da›. Feliu, Luis. “Battle for Bentley: 2,000 Protectors on Site.” Echo Netdaily Mar. 2013. 4 Aug. 2014 ‹http://www.echo.net.au/2014/03/battle-bentley-2000-protectors-site/›. Finley, Mary Lou, and Steven Soifer. “Social Movement Theories and Map.” Doing Democracy: The MAP Model for Organizing Social Movements. Eds. Bill Moyer, Johann McAllister, Mary Lou Finley, and Steven Soifer. Gabriola Island, Canada: New Society Publishers, 2001. Grossberg, Lawrence. “Some Preliminary Conjunctural Thoughts on Countercultures”. Journal of Gender and Power 1.1 (2014). Hand, Eric. “Injection Wells Blamed in Oklahoma Earthquakes.” Science 345.6192 (2014): 13–14. Howarth, Terry. “Should Fracking Stop?” Nature 477 (2011): 271–73. Kelly, Russell. “The Mediated Forest: Who Speaks for the Trees?” Belonging in the Rainbow Region: Cultural Perspectives on the NSW North Coast. Ed. Helen Wilson. Lismore: Southern Cross UP, 2003. 101–20. Lock the Gate Alliance. 2014. 15 July 2014 ‹http://www.lockthegate.org.au/history›. Locke, John. “Toleration and Government.” Ideals and Ideologies: A Reader. Eds. Terence Ball & Richard Dagger. New York: Pearson Longman, 2004 (1823). 79–93. Metgasco. Rosella E01 Environment Approval Received 2104. 4 Aug. 2014 ‹http://www.metgasco.com.au/asx-announcements/rosella-e01-environment-approval-received›. Mitka, Mike. “Rigorous Evidence Slim for Determining Health Risks from Natural Gas Fracking.” The Journal of the American Medical Association 307.20 (2012): 2135–36. Moyer, Bill. “The Movement Action Plan.” Doing Democracy: The MAP Model for Organizing Social Movements. Eds. Bill Moyer, Johann McAllister, Mary Lou Finley, and Steven Soifer. Gabriola Island, Canada: New Society Publishers, 2001. NSW Department of Resources & Energy. “Metgasco Drilling Approval Suspended.” Media Release, 15 May 2014. 30 July 2014 ‹http://www.resourcesandenergy.nsw.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0005/516749/Metgasco-Drilling-Approval-Suspended.pdf›. Reading, Tracey. “Hip versus Square: 1960s Advertising and Clothing Industries and the Counterculture”. Research Papers 2013. 15 July 2014 ‹http://opensuic.lib.siu.edu/gs_rp/396›. Ricketts, Aiden. “The North East Forest Alliance’s Old-Growth Forest Campaign.” Belonging in the Rainbow Region: Cultural Perspectives on the NSW North Coast. Ed. Helen Wilson. Lismore: Southern Cross UP. 2003. 121–148. Sharp, Gene. The Politics of Nonviolent Action: Power and Struggle. Boston, Mass.: Porter Sargent, 1973. Sovacool, Benjamin K. “Cornucopia or Curse? Reviewing the Costs and Benefits of Shale Gas Hydraulic Fracturing (Fracking).” Renewable and Sustainable Energy Reviews (2014): 249–64. Tait, Douglas, Isaac Santos, Damien Maher, Tyler Cyronak, and Rachael Davis. “Enrichment of Radon and Carbon Dioxide in the Open Atmosphere of an Australian Coal Seam Gas Field.” Environmental Science & Technology 47 (2013): 3099–3104. Tarrow, Sidney. Power in Movement: Social Movements and Contentious Politics. 3rd ed. New York: Cambridge UP, 2011. Thompson, Chuck. “The Fracking Feud.” Medicus 53.8 (2013): 56–57. Tilly, Charles. Regimes and Repertoires. Chicago: UCP, 2006. Ward, Susan, and Kitty van Vuuren. “Belonging to the Rainbow Region: Place, Local Media, and the Construction of Civil and Moral Identities Strategic to Climate Change Adaptability.” Environmental Communication 7.1 (2013): 63–79.

This paper offers a Derridian reading of D.H. Lawrence’s novel Women in Love, with excerpts from the novel’s prequel The Rainbow. Through Derrida’s ideas of difference and the imaginary origin, I explore the relationship between female reproductive potential and representation as means to a female sexual power, which Lawrence’s men attempt to destroy and subvert. By attacking realms of representation, like art, the novel’s male characters seek to dominate female reproductive power to assert patriarchal visions of modernity and modernism. These violent sexual dichotomies are found in the male characters’ relations to modern capitalism/colonialism and the modernist artistic project to “make it new.” Their masculine worldviews are perpetuated by consuming the death of representation, but they can never destroy the feminine cycle of reproductive potential and life.

What does counterculture do? This is the question we asked ourselves repeatedly in curating this issue for M/C Journal. While incredible examples of countercultural lives—collective and individual—were described in articles we received, what we have tried to do is bring together research on how counterculture is both theorised and practised in local and international contexts. At the heart of this issue is a two-day conference in May 2013 titled “Aquarius and Beyond: 40 years on…” (Southern Cross University) that marked the 40th anniversary of the 1973 Nimbin Aquarius Festival, held in the northern NSW village of Nimbin. The Festival was one of, if not the, defining countercultural event in Australia. The editors met at the 2013 conference and hatched the countercultural plan to continue working together on publishing interdisciplinary scholarship on the subject. The project grew to encompass wider interpretations of the counterculture. Given this history of this M/C Journal issue, we have taken a particular stance on counterculture. While some authors point to the importance of conceptualising counterculture without a specific reference to context (for example Grossberg; Parsons), in this issue we have deliberately infused the need for a conceptual focus with empirical content that derives from the global countercultural phenomena of the 1960s and 1970s (for example Roszak; Smith and Crossley). That said, we do not want to confine explorations of the counterculture to that period, nor do we want to leave the concept behind, but we are interested in that specific structure of feeling we now generally associate with the term. Rob Garbutt expands these thoughts in his opening article by briefly surveying the idea of counterculture, before reading a specific instance of the counterculture—the 1973 Nimbin Aquarius Festival—through that literature and with the addition of Esposito’s twinned conceptualisation of immunitas and communitas. We then continue with theoretical perspectives on counterculture. Patrick Williams and Erik Hannerz write about the distinction between counterculture and subcultures, positing the ongoing oppositional element as the distinguishing feature that serves to draw both of these concepts together. Thomas Sutherland then poses a challenge to counterculture as capitalism’s stooge. The next two papers take aim at mainstream practices of consumption and science. Peter Sampson challenges some contemporary notions that view counterculture in terms of fluid and temporary coalitions by proposing a holistic, all-of-life approach that draws on monasticism as a counter to consuming cultures. Dan McQuillan then argues for more democratised models of citizen science. McQuillan draws on the 1970s Science for the People movement that was seeded by a rebellion of young physicists against the role of US science in the Vietnam War, as well the potential of contemporary citizen science to take an alternative engagement with mainstream science. The largest group of papers in this issue locate themselves firmly in the “Rainbow Region” of northern NSW, the region that is focused on Australia’s “countercultural capital”, Nimbin (Australian Broadcasting Commission). Victor Marsh starts this historically ordered set of articles by taking his personal experience of the 1971 and 1973 Aquarius Festivals in order to reflect on counterculture as a meme-cluster. Next, Alethea Scantlebury investigates claims that the 1973 Aquarius Festival was “the first event in Australian history that sought permission for the use of the land from the Traditional Owners”. The aftermath of the Festival was marked by an influx of “new settlers”, some of whom sought to develop communal forms of property ownership. John Page unpacks ideas of “Aquarian property” through tracing emergent property theory in the 1960s and 1970s, and the practices these theories engendered. Jacqueline Dutton then explores the view of Nimbin in 1973 from the emerging tourist destination of nearby Byron Bay. Dutton uses the alternative media publication The Byron Express as her source material and a counterculturally-refracted reading of utopia as her theoretical lens. Yvonne Hartman and Sandy Darab then close this set of papers by bringing the threads of the Rainbow Region counterculture into the present. They examine the interconnections between counterculture, the mainstream and social movements during recent successful environmental activism against Coal Seam Gas through that ubiquitous rural gesture of “the wave”. We follow these papers which are themed on an instance of rural counterculture with one on permaculture, which is typically associated with the “back to the land movement”. Here Alexandra Lara Crosby, Jacquie Lorber-Kasunic and Ilaria Vanni Accarigi argue that a shift is required in understanding permaculture—practices for living a sustainable life. This move is from that historical view mentioned above to a contemporary contrapuntal reading of permaculture as an assemblage and global network of practices. The next three papers focus on various forms of media. The counterculture of the 60s and 70s had strong atavistic tendencies where practices from former “simpler” times were resurrected as a simpler-living antidote to alienating technocracy (Roszak). Rosanna Hunt and Michelle Phillipov find these same connections in the contemporary popularisation of the “nanna” as a countercultural icon, specifically in examples drawn from “nanna-style” cookbooks and Frankie magazine. Ingo Petzke then traces the development of the counterculture in Sydney through a biographical telling of film director Phillip Noyce’s beginnings in experimental cinema. Finally, on the eve of the 40th anniversary of the commencement of Australian youth-oriented radio station 2JJ (now 2JJJ), Cathy Hope and Bethany Turner chart the station’s countercultural orientation. While it was very much situated in the mainstream as part of the government-owned Australian Broadcasting Commission, “Double Jay” was able to tap into and reflect youth-based aspects of the counterculture in 1970s Australia. Our “counterculture” issue closes with Mario George Rodriguez’s paper on his experience of and reflections on Burning Man, a large festival set in the Nevada Desert. This festival claims countercultural status but to what extent, Rodriguez asks, is this the case today? We felt that Rodriguez’s paper was a fitting close to the issue as it gives expression to ongoing questions of the relevance of “counterculture”. As Bennett has noted, counterculture can be questioned for being theoretically vague and therefore not useful for cultural analysis (25). In other analyses it is pigeon-holed as a failed youthful experiment in that decade between the mid-’60s and the mid-’70s (Nelson 8). Yet despite this, the idea of counterculture lives on in the popular imagination, and as the authors in this issue demonstrate, has much to offer scholars in their inquiries into past and contemporary cultures, and in considerations of global futures. As editors, we would like to especially thank all the authors in, and reviewers of, this issue. We also sincerely thank the M/C Journal team for providing an accessible venue for scholarship, and Axel Bruns for his patient and generous support of new research. References Australian Broadcasting Commission. "Fire Guts Nimbin Museum and Rainbow Cafe in Counterculture Capital." Bush Telegraph. Australian Broadcasting Commission 2014. 27 Nov. 2014 ‹http://www.abc.net.au/radionational/programs/bushtelegraph/nimbin-fire/5668428›. Bennett, Andy. "Reappraising 'Counterculture'." Countercultures and Popular Music. Eds. Whiteley, Sheila and Jebediah Sklower. Farnham: Ashgate, 2014. 17–26. Grossberg, Lawrence. "Some Preliminary Conjunctural Thoughts on Countercultures." Journal of Gender and Power 1.1 (2014): 13–23. Nelson, Elizabeth. The British Counter-Culture, 1966-73: A Study of the Underground Press. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 1989. Parsons, Talcott. The Social System. New York: Free Press, 1951. Roszak, Theodore. The Making of a Counter Culture: Reflections on the Technocratic Society and Its Youthful Opposition. New York: Anchor, 1969. Smith, Margaret, and David Crossley, eds. The Way Out: Radical Alternatives in Australia. Melbourne: Lansdowne, 1975. Southern Cross University. "Aquarius and Beyond: 40 Years On..." Southern Cross University 2013. 5 Sep. 2014 ‹http://sassevents.scu.edu.au/aquarius/›.