Journal articles on the topic 'Zulu (african people) south africa religion'

Abstract Knowledge production in apartheid-era South Africa was a profoundly collaborative process. In particular, throughout the 1930s–1950s, the joint intellectual labor of both Africans and Europeans created a body of knowledge that codified and celebrated the notion of a distinct realm of Zulu religion. The intertwined careers of Swedish missionary to South Africa Bengt Sundkler and isiZulu-speaking Lutheran pastor-turned-ethnographer Titus Mthembu highlight the limitations of overly clear demarcations between “professional” versus “lay” anthropologists as well as between “colonial European” versus “indigenous African” knowledge. Mthembu and Sundkler’s decades-long collaboration resulted in a book called Bantu Prophets in South Africa ([1948] 1961). The work is best understood as the joint output of both men, although Sundkler scarcely acknowledged Mthembu’s role in the conceptualization, research, and writing of the book. In an era of racial segregation, the idea that African religion occupied a discrete, innately different sphere that the book advanced had significant political purchase. As one of a number of African ideologues supportive of the apartheid state, Mthembu mobilized his ethnographic findings to argue for innate racial difference and the virtues of “separate development” for South Africa’s Zulu community. His mysterious death in 1960 points to the high stakes of ethnographic research in the politically fraught climate of apartheid South Africa.

This article explores the relevance of Western models of marriage counselling in the African context and specifically with Zulu couples. It argues that because of different worldviews, there are elements of western therapeutic approaches with couples that do not fit with the beliefs and values of many African people. The article examines some of the philosophies that underlie marriage in contemporary Zulu society, as well as the worldview, values and practices of Zulu people with regard to marriage. It then examines a selection of Western marriage counselling approaches in order to establish whether the Western based marriage counselling theories that are taught and practiced by social workers in South Africa today are relevant when used with Zulu couples.

In a recent article by Veit Erlmann in the South African journal of musicology (SAMUS vol. 14, 1995) entitled “Africa Civilized, Africa Uncivilized,” Erlmann draws upon the reception history of the South African Zulu Choir’s visit to London in 1892 and the Ladysmith Black Mambazo presence in Paul Simon’s Graceland project to highlight the epithet “Africa civilized, Africa uncivilized.” Though the term was used by the turn of the century British press to publicize the event, the slogan carries far greater impact upon the locus of the identity of urban black people in South Africa for more than a century.

“Umuntu Ngumuntu Ngabantu” translates into a person is a person because of people. There is an idea of unity in this frequently used Zulu proverb that is posted boldly next to the Afrocentric logo on the African Union International School (AUIS) website in Midrand South, Africa. All these words are factors within Pan-Africanism, and AUIS is more than an international school in South Africa, but it is one of two schools created by the African Centered Educational Foundation (ACE). The other school is called the African American Academy in Douala, Cameroon. Under the auspice of ACE, both schools share a very special mission implied within its vision that includes an education for the African Renaissance. Through a content analysis, this paper will illustrate how the African Centered Education Foundation represents Pan-Africanism through the institutionalization of African Centered Education illustrated by their technological media (school websites, facebook, online articles), educational tools (brochures, teacher evaluations, lesson plans, teacher’s introduction package), and their African diaspora volunteer teacher program.

This article examines the response of Bishop Alphaeus Hamilton Zulu to the racism that was prevalent in both the church and society when he was elected as the first African Bishop of the Anglican Church in South Africa. Clergy, especially bishops, are by virtue of their ecclesial positions expected to transcend racial prejudices, to embrace all members of their churches and to transform their churches to multi-racial ones. This means that they have to deal with racial stereotypes both within the church and society at large. This study is based on interviews with key leaders of the Anglican Church who knew and worked with Bishop Zulu, as well as an analysis of media releases and minutes of meetings that he was part of and some that were written about him. This article argues that Bishop Zulu played a pivotal role in the fight against racism, through his episcopal ministry which brought politics and religion into a creative tension, when he worked as bishop, speaker of the Legislative Assembly in Natal and key founder of the Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP). It also argues that church leaders must hold politics and religion together for their ministry to bring transformation to both the church and society.

AbstractMost of the literature on African independent churches (AICs) in South Africa has not paid much attention to their economic and developmental role. In contrast, this article will show how AICs are involved in important economic activities such as voluntary mutual benefit societies, savings clubs, lending societies, stokvels (informal savings funds), and burial societies that control millions of South African rand. In light of firsthand empirical research, this article investigates these kinds of activities, and analyses independent churches’ developmental role. This will allow us to better understand how these communities play a strong and supportive function among Africans in a deprived economic situation. In a period of socio-political transformation in South Africa, AICs are able to answer the needs of the people and their hunger to rebuild an identity. My major critique of classical research on AICs is the failure of the literature to address ‘social change’ in a theoretically adequate way, as something more than just descriptions of ‘traditional’ social structures away from interpretations of modernity.

If ever South Africa could boast of a Robinson Crusoe of her own, as affable, shrewd, politically sagacious, courageous and large-hearted as Defoe's, here is one to life… “Mr Fynn”[Fynn is] a greater ass and Don Quixote than one could possibly conceive.The fictional referents in these diametrically opposed judgments of Henry Francis Fynn (1806-61) alert us to the “constructed” nature of the reputation of this most famous of Shakan eyewitnesses. Although Nathaniel Isaacs' Travels and Adventures in Eastern Africa (1836) first introduced Shaka and his Zulu people to the British reading public, and had easily the profoundest influence on popular conceptions, Fynn was the more widely acknowledged “expert” on the Zulu. Having pursued an extraordinarily tortuous, violent, and well-documented career through forty formative years of South African frontier history, he left a body of writings which belatedly attained authoritative status in Shakan historiography. Since 1950, Fynn's so-called “Diary” has become the paramount, and until recently largely unquestioned, source on Shaka's famous reign (ca. 1815-1828). As recent political power struggles centered on the “Shaka Day” celebrations in Zululand have amply demonstrated, there is no more appropriate juncture at which to reassess the sources of this semi-mythologized Zulu leader's reputation.

ABSTRACTChildren in many African societies have meaningful names – unlike their Western counterparts, whose names are primarily labels. In Zulu, Xhosa, Sotho, Tswana, and many other cultures, namegivers traditionally chose personal names that pointed to a range of people and circumstances that were relevant at the time of the child's birth. These highly individual or unique names were part of particular social frameworks that have long been evolving with Western acculturation. Like the social frameworks within which they are embedded, naming practices are in the process of change.This article investigates change in Zulu naming practices as a reflection of wider social changes. Taking historical accounts as the source of traditional namegiving, an analysis of rural, farm, and urban names shows quantitative and qualitative differences in naming practices. Contemporary names differ significantly from traditional ones, and provide evidence that the world view within which names are given is in the process of redefinition. (Anthropological linguistics, naming, South Africa, Zulu)

Este trabalho parte do universo do povo zulu, da região de KwaZulu-Natal (áfrica do Sul), para analisar o ensino de história, as polá­ticas de memórias e as desigualdades sociais presentes nas terras sul-africanas durante o Apartheid. Nesse sentido, a análise, que toma os anos de 1948 a 1994 como recorte temporal, utiliza como fontes a coleção de livros didáticos History for Today, imagens e jornais levantados no arquivo sul-africano Alan Paton Center e na biblioteca pública de Pietermaritzburg. Tais fontes foram produzidas e utilizadas no perá­odo do Apartheid (1948-1994). Procura-se ainda investigar quais eram as polá­ticas educacionais presentes na áfrica do Sul durante aquele regime. O intuito é identificar nos livros didáticos e nas polá­ticas educacionais os modos como a/as identidade(s) zulus foram construá­das, pensadas e dadas a ler, além de problematizar os modos de ver da sociedade sul-africana no que se refere á população zulu no perá­odo em questão.Palavras-chave: Zulu. áfrica do Sul. Ensino de História.SEGREGATION TIMES (1948-94): Teaching history, memory politics and social inequalities in the universe of the Zulu peopleAbstract: This article will examine the assemblage of the Zulu people, from the KwaZulu-Natal region (South Africa), with the intention to analyze the history teaching, memory politics and social inequalities present in the South African lands during the period of Apartheid. The analysis, which pertains to the years 1948 to 1994, uses as its sources, the History for Today collection of textbooks, images and newspapers from the South African archives Alan Paton Center and the Pietermaritzburg public library. These sources were produced and utilized in the Apartheid period (1948-1994). It also seeks to investigate which educational policies were present in South Africa during that regime. The aim is to identify in textbooks and educational policies the ways in which Zulus identity (s) were formulated, conceptualized and construed, as well as problematizing South African society's views on the Zulu population in the period in question.Keywords: Zulu. South Africa. Teaching History. TIEMPOS DE SEGREGACIÓN (1948-94): enseñanza de historia, polá­ticas de memorias y desigualdades sociales en el universo del pueblo zulúResumen: Este trabajo parte del universo del pueblo zulú, de la región de KwaZulu-Natal (áfrica del Sur), para analizar la enseñanza de la historia, las polá­ticas de memorias y las desigualdades sociales presentes en las tierras sudafricanas durante el Apartheid. En ese sentido, el análisis, que toma los años de 1948 a 1994 como recorte temporal, utiliza como fuentes la colección de libros didácticos History for Today, imágenes y periódicos levantados en el archivo sudafricano Alan Paton Center y en la biblioteca pública de Pietermaritzburg. Estas fuentes fueron producidas y utilizadas en el perá­odo del Apartheid (1948-1994). También busca investigar cuáles eran las polá­ticas educativas presentes en Sudáfrica durante ese régimen. La intención es identificar en los libros didácticos y en las polá­ticas educativas los modos como la/las identidad(es) zulús fueron construidas, pensadas y dadas a leer, además de problematizar los modos de ver de la sociedad sudafricana en lo que se refiere a la población zulú en el perá­odo en cuestión.Palabras clave: Zulú. áfrica del Sur. Enseñanza de Historia.

Despite many efforts to publish comprehensive literary histories of South or Southern Africa in recent years, few studies existin which a thorough comparative study is undertaken between two or more South African literatures. This article wants to provide a practical example of such a study by comparing the urbanisation of Afrikaners in Afrikaans literature with that of black people as seen in English and Zulu literature. The statement made by Ampie Coetzee that comparative studies should take place within the framework of discursive formations is one of the fundamental starting points of this study. Maaike Meijer’s concept of the “cultural text” is further employed as a theoretical instrument. The identification of repeating sets of representation is central to the demarcation of a “cultural text about urbanisation” in Afrikaans, English and Zulu literature respectively. The cultural text forms the basis from which a valid comparative study can be embarked upon, and the results of the research have important implications for further comparative studies but also literary historiography.

Seek ye the political kingdom and all shall be yours.No minority tyranny in history ever survived the opposition of the majority. Nor will it survive in South Africa. The end of white tyranny is near.In their Portraits of Nobel Laureates in Peace, Wintterle and Cramer wrote that “the odds against the baby born at the Seventh-Day Adventist Mission near Bulawayo in Rhodesia in 1898 becoming a Nobel Prize winner were so astronomical as to defy calculation. He was the son of a proud people, the descendant of Zulu chieftains and warriors. But pride of birth is no substitute for status rendered inferior by force of circumstance, and in Luthuli's early years, the native African was definitely considered inferior by the white man. If his skin was black, that could be considered conclusive proof that he would never achieve anything; white men would see to that. However, in Luthuli's case they made a profound mistake--they allowed him to have an education.”If there is an extra-royal gentry in Zulu society, then it was into this class that Albert John Luthuli was born. Among the Zulus, chieftainship is hereditary only for the Paramount Chief; all regional chiefs are elected. The Luthuli family though, at least through the 1950s, monopolized the chieftainship of the Abasemakholweni (literally “converts”) tribe for nearly a century. Luthuli's grandfather Ntaba, was the first in the family to head the tribe and around 1900, his uncle Martin Luthuli took over.

Over the last few decades, a piece of fabric has become a powerful and divisive symbol worldwide. Since the tragic events of 9/11, this piece of fabric has become a topic of great debate, at local, national, regional and international level. The veil as worn by some Muslim women has assumed iconic proportions around the globe. To some it symbolizes piety to others, oppression. To some it is a rejection of Western morality to others, a rejection of modernity. To some, it is a religious statement supporting Islam as a way of living; to others, a political statement supporting violent Islamists. These disparate attributions exemplify the power of nonverbal communication and support the maxim that words and objects contain no inherent meaning; only people assigned meaning. This article discusses the status of religious rights and freedoms under the South African Constitution. One aspect of this change is the change that has affected the various religions, cultures, and customs in South Africa. It is therefore, viewed by many as a constitution for the people of South Africa which includes a Bill of Rights. Historically speaking, for the very first time since colonialism, all religions were guaranteed the of religion. Furthermore, religions, cultures and languages are deep-rooted in the various constitutional provisions, namely, sections 9(3), 15(1) to (3), 30, 31, 185 and 234 respectively. These constitutional provisions are solidified by section 7 which obliges the state to respect, protect, promote and fulfil the provisions set forth in the Bill of Rights. The article concludes with an argument for the recognition of plurality of religions and religious legal systems in South Africa.

AbstractThis article investigates the role of Sufi networks in keeping Durban's ‘Zanzibari’ community of African Muslims together and developing their response to social change and political developments from the 1950s to the post-apartheid period. It focuses on the importance of religion in giving meaning to notions of community, and discusses the importance of the Makua language in maintaining links with northern Mozambique and framing understandings of Islam. The transmission of ritual practices of the Rifaiyya, Qadiriyya, and Shadhiliyya Sufi brotherhoods is highlighted, as is the significance of Maputo as a node for such linkages. The article discusses change over time in notions of cosmopolitanism, diaspora, and belonging, and examines new types of interactions after 1994 between people identifying themselves as Amakhuwa in Durban and Mozambique.

Lagos, an area basically inhabited by the Yoruba speaking people of South Western Nigeria and by extension some other parts of West Africa where Islam, Christianity and the African Traditional Religion are still being practised side by side till date with the Africans still being converted to the new faiths without dropping their traditional religion or cultural affiliations. This ideology is very common to the average African who still believes in his culture which has always tainted his way of life or as far as his religion is concerned should not interfere with his culture as the religion as not tacitly condemned some of these practices. This paper intends to examine the extent to which the Yoruba Muslims have been involved in syncretism especially as regards the introduction of the conferment of titles into the Muslim community.

Revenge, as an instance of oppositionality, typifies past wrongs, evils, violations and disregard for human dignity which have been imputed and for which the offender must be reprimanded. The foregoing sequence is remindful of the dastardly apartheid dispensation in South Africa, which is a strong metaphor for strife and ‘ruptured’ human interactions. While the transition of South Africa to constitutionality was substantially heralded by the negotiating preponderances of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), a number of people have adjudged the TRC to be a mere attempt to draw a curtain on the past - in sharp contrast to the spirit and letter of the commission. By so doing, there is a popular opinion that there are still some ‘unfinished business’ that ironically link the present with the past. Therefore, it is considered a ‘must’ that these ‘silences’ be addressed in order for the present and future of South Africa not to be intractably burdened by the past. Bhekizizwe Peterson’s and Ramadan Suleman’s Zulu Love Letter (both film and scripted play) has joined this discourse by artistically amplifying the need for an engagement with these ‘deafening silences’. It is in the light of the aforementioned that this article investigates the process of wrong and attempts by the hegemony to expiate such wrongs, in the context of impervious agents, who disregard the processes for peaceful engagements, but rather scorn and threaten victims of their vicious actions for daring to seek justice. The article sees such a repudiation of one’s evil act and the conciliatory stance of the government as capable of breeding revenge. However, the article concludes that when medicated, using certain cultural and religious beliefs, the bleeding heart that is prone to seeking revenge or retaliation (vengeance) might also be a carrier of forgiveness and collectivism.

Students of African studies have reported a variety of religious movements under the rubric of independent churches. These include the Cherubim and Seraphim, the Church of the Lord, the Church of Simon Kimbangu, the Zionist and Ethiopianist’s independent churches in southern Africa. Most of these churches emerged in those countries that were under European colonial domination. Ethiopia did not experience European colonialism. Indeed, imperial Ethiopia conquered militarily less powerful kingdoms and chiefdoms that were located to the south and south-western of the then Abyssinia. The conquest of formerly independent populations in southern Ethiopia during the late nineteenth century introduced unequal power relations between the indigenous people and the new settlers. This paper examines the evolution of a religious movement referred to as ak’aat k’aal among the Aari people of south-west Ethiopia in the context of the indigenous forms of domination. Although the movement was short-lived, it was meant to enable the Aari to cope with the social psychological stress that the serfdom system generated. The Aari were not able to practice their traditional religion because of the serfdom. Therefore, they had to abandon their religion. However, doing this without finding a substitute was incompatible with Aari religious ideology. The ak’aat k’aal was a substitute just for a short period. ATTENTION: Due to copy-right no online publication is provided.

AbstractIn South Africa Christian teachings and texts informed African political activity in the 1950s and 1960s particularly in the rural areas, and rumors predicting both real revolts and fantastic interventions were common. While recent scholarship concerning supernatural beliefs in African political life often analyzes the impact of fears about witchcraft or faith in the ancestors, Christianity of various types was also a significant influence on people’s actions. This paper analyzes the historical background to the revolt against apartheid policies that developed in the Transkeian region of the eastern Cape of South Africa in the mid-twentieth century and pays special attention to the role of Christian influences. Christianity was consequential both in terms of how people understood their grievances and also in the kinds of predictions they made about their political future. Rumors and religion combined with material grievances to create a prophetic moment in which rebellion became a moral choice.

An aspect of curriculum policy-making under the past Nationalistgovernment had to do with policy being used to develop and impose thestate’s nationalist and religious ideology-Christian National Educationonall schools in South Africa after its assumption of power in 1948. Oneconsequence of this policy was that the rich diversity of South Africans asa people holding to multiple, positive, and idiosyncratic beliefs linked tovarious communal identities was sacrificed to a state-imposed pseudocommonality.Part of the challenge of educational reconstruction under thedemocratic government elected in April 1994 is to develop curricula thatboth recognize the diversity of positive ideals, beliefs, and faith whileremaining impartial, if not agnostic,’ toward any one belief and to contributeto the development of a new and shared national identity.Following ministerial approval, an “Accommodation Model” forteaching religion has been announced recently. In it, schools are allowedto choose between teaching “one . . . faith” as an academic curriculum, a“world religion” curriculum, or a “combination” of the two, as religiouseducation in the core curriculum and/or as an academic subject leading tocertification. We suggest that the impetus for a world religion curriculumhas to do with a desire to develop in all students an understanding of thediversity of faiths in the country and to move away from the solely Biblecenteredprograms of the past. In this article, we consider the design of theIslamic component for inclusion as one component in the proposed worldreligion curriculum. Its purposes are considered against the backdrop of ...

This paper aims to examine the ambiguity of faith in the intersection of religion and state violence. I pay attention to the state-operated system of apartheid in South Africa and critically analyze the Afrikaner community’s faith that motivated and justified vicious state violence against people of color. I name this faith demonic faith and present two key features of demonic faith in the South African case: idolatrous absolutization and destructive dehumanization. I also examine how the Afrikaners’ demonic faith came to its existence through the complex dynamics of their existential anxieties, desires, and distorted ways to fulfill the desires. I then argue for the ineffaceable possibility of redemptive faith, and theoretically construct how two features of redemptive faith, consisting of courage and empathy, could have empowered the Afrikaners to break the shackles of demonic idolatry and destruction. Redemptive faith is tragically paired with demonic faith, but truth serves as a key criterion to guide us in this tragic ambiguity of faith.

The politics of coloured people in twentieth-century South Africa have generally been characterised as marginal from mainstream South African events. Correspondingly, attempts to initiate political developments along cultural or ethnic lines - emphasising Mama or Griqua identity, for example - have been noted primarily for their divisive and factional composition. Such writings focus on overt political action. They highlight either leaders’ involvement with, or opposition to, state structures; or the internal, often petty and frustrated conflicts between leaders, but fail to explain the marginalisation of coloured politics. But this emphasis on ‘the political’ removes from our gaze other, more productive avenues for understanding the identity of mixed-race people in South Africa. Political activity, for the Griqua, cannot be evaluated except through the lens of Christianity. Since religion promises to fulfil people's ambitions through redemption in the afterlife, Griqua-Christian ideas about overt political quests and active campaigning against discrimination - on either an individual or societal level - tended to be deemed unnecessary. As it was God who ultimately meted out punishments or rewards, Griqua people's energies were better used worshipping him. Nonetheless, these same Griqua people lived in the profane world in which - at least during the apartheid era - they were officially classified as ‘coloured’. Their struggles, based primarily on the need for official ethnic recognition as Griqua, were, in effect, political struggles. This partly Griqua, partly coloured identity enabled them considerable political flexibility and produced the complex social patterns explored below. A further distinction underpinning the Griqua-coloured ambiguity was that between inkommers (newcomers) and boorlings (people born to Griqua-town).

<p><strong>List of abstracts and authors:</strong></p><p><strong>1. Bipolar disorder not otherwise specified -overdiagnosed or underdiagnosed?</strong></p><p>E Allers</p><p><strong>2. The prognosis of major depression untreated and treated: Does the data reflect the true picture of the prognosis of this very common disorder?</strong></p><p>E Allers</p><p><strong>3. Can we prolong our patients' life expectancy? Providing a better quality of life for patients with severe mental illness</strong></p><p>O A Betencourt</p><p><strong>4. The scope of ECT practice in South Africa</strong></p><p>J Benson-Martin, P Milligan</p><p><strong>5. Biomarkers for schizophrenia: Can we evolve like cancer therapeutics?</strong></p><p>P Buckley<strong></strong></p><p><strong>6. Relapse in schizophrenis: Major challenges in prediction and prevention</strong></p><p>P Buckley</p><p><strong>7. Informed consent in biological treatments: The right to know the duty to inform</strong></p><p><strong></strong>I Chetty</p><p><strong>8. Effectiveness of a long-acting injectable antipsychotic plus an assertive monitoring programme in first-episode schizophrenia</strong></p><p><strong></strong>B Chiliza, L Asmal, O Esan, A Ojagbemi, O Gureje, R Emsley</p><p><strong>9. Name, shame, fame</strong></p><p>P Cilliers</p><p><strong>10. Can we manage the increasing incidence of violent raging children? We have to!</strong></p><p>H Clark</p><p><strong>11. Serotonin, depression and antidepressant action</strong></p><p>P Cowen</p><p><strong>12. Prevalence and correlates of comorbid psychiatris illness in patients with heroin use disorder admitted to Stikland Opioid Detoxification Unit</strong></p><p>L Dannatt, K J Cloete, M Kidd, L Weich</p><p><strong>13. Investigating the association between diabetes mellitus, depression and psychological distress in a cohort of South African teachers</strong></p><p>A K Domingo, S Seedat, T M Esterhuizen, C Laurence, J Volmink, L Asmal</p><p><strong>14. Neuropeptide S -emerging evidence for a role in anxiety</strong></p><p>K Domschke</p><p><strong>15. Pathogenetics of anxiety</strong></p><p>K Domschke</p><p><strong>16. The effects of HIV on the fronto-striatal system</strong></p><p>S du Plessis, M Vink, J Joska, E Koutsilieri, C Scheller, B Spottiswoode, D Stein, R Emsley</p><p><strong>17. Effects of acute antipsychotic treatment on brain morphology in schizophrenia</strong></p><p>R Emsley, L Asmal, B Chiliza, S du Plessis, J Carr, A Goosen, M Kidd, M Vink, R Kahn</p><p><strong>18. Development of a genetic database resource for monitoring of breast cancer patients at risk of physical and psychological complications</strong></p><p>K Grant, F J Cronje, K Botha, J P Apffelstaedt, M J Kotze</p><p><strong>19. Unipolar mania reconsidered: Evidence from a South African study</strong></p><p><strong></strong>C Grobler</p><p><strong>20. Antipsychotic-induced movement disorders: Occurence and management</strong></p><p>P Haddad</p><p><strong>21. The place of observational studies in assessing the effectiveness of long-acting injectable antipsychotics</strong></p><p>P Haddad</p><p><strong>22. Molecular mechanisms of d-cycloserine in fear extinction: Insights from RNS sequencing</strong></p><p>S Hemmings, S Malan-Muller, L Fairbairn, M Jalali, E J Oakeley, J Gamieldien, M Kidd, S Seedat</p><p><strong>23. Schizophrenia: The role of inflammation</strong></p><p>DC Henderson</p><p><strong>24. Addictions: Emergent trends and innovations</strong></p><p>V Hitzeroth</p><p><strong>25. The socio-cultural-religious context of biological psychiatric practice</strong></p><p>B Janse van Rensburg</p><p><strong>26. Biochemical markers for identifying risk factors for disability progression in multiple sclerosis</strong></p><p><strong></strong>S Janse van Rensburg, M J Kotze, F J Cronje, W Davis, K Moremi, M Jalali Sefid Dashti, J Gamieldien, D Geiger, M Rensburg, R van Toorn, M J de Klerk, G M Hon, T Matsha, S Hassan, R T Erasmus</p><p><strong>27. Alcohol-induced psychotic disorder: Brain perfusion and psychopathology - before and after antipsychotic treatment</strong></p><p>G Jordaan, J M Warwick, D G Nel, R Hewlett, R Emsley</p><p><strong>28.'Pump and dump': Harm reduction strategies for breastfeeding while using substances</strong></p><p>L Kramer</p><p><strong>29. Adolescent neuropsychiatry - an emerging field in South African adolescent psychiatric services</strong></p><p>A Lachman</p><p><strong>30. Recovery versus remission, or what it means to be healthy for a psychiatric patient?</strong></p><p>B Latecki</p><p><strong>31. Holistic methods utilised to normalise behaviours in youth diagnosed with neuro-biochemical disorders</strong></p><p>P Macqueen</p><p><strong>32. Candidate genes and novel polymorphisms for anxiety disorder in a South African cohort</strong></p><p>N McGregor, J Dimatelis, S M J Hemmings, C J Kinnear, D Stein, V Russel, C Lochner</p><p><strong>33. Higher visual functioning</strong></p><p>A Moodley</p><p><strong>34. The effects of prenatal methylmercury exposure on trace element and antioxidant levels in rat offspring following 6-hydroxydopamine-induced neuronal insult</strong></p><p>Z M Moosa, W M U Daniels, M V Mabandla</p><p><strong>35. Paediatric neuropsychiatric movement disorders</strong></p><p>L Mubaiwa</p><p><strong>36. The South African national female offenders study</strong></p><p>M Nagdee, L Artz, C de Clercq, P de Wet, H Erlacher, S Kaliski, C Kotze, L Kowalski, J Naidoo, S Naidoo, J Pretorius, M Roffey, F Sokudela, U Subramaney</p><p><strong>37. Neurobiological consequences of child abuse</strong></p><p>C Nemeroff</p><p><strong>38. What do Stellenbosch Unviversity medical students think about psychiatry - and why should we care?</strong></p><p>G Nortje, S Suliman, K Seed, G Lydall, S Seedat</p><p><strong>39. Neurological soft skins in Nigerian Africans with first episode schizophrenia: Factor structure and clinical correlates</strong></p><p><strong></strong>A Ojagbemi, O Esan, O Gureje, R Emsley</p><p><strong>40. Should psychiatric patients know their MTHFR status?</strong></p><p>E Peter</p><p><strong>41. Clinical and functional outcome of treatment refractory first-episode schizophrenia</strong></p><p>L Phahladira, R Emsley, L Asmal, B Chiliza</p><p><strong>42. Bioethics by case discussion</strong></p><p>W Pienaar</p><p><strong>43. Reviewing our social contract pertaining to psychiatric research in children, research in developing countries and distributive justice in pharmacy</strong></p><p>W Pienaar</p><p><strong>44. The performance of the MMSE in a heterogenous elderly South African population</strong></p><p>S Ramlall, J Chipps, A I Bhigjee, B J Pillay</p><p><strong>45. Biological basis addiction (alocohol and drug addiction)</strong></p><p>S Rataemane</p><p><strong>46. Volumetric brain changes in prenatal methamphetamine-exposed children compared with healthy unexposed controls</strong></p><p><strong></strong>A Roos, K Donald, G Jones, D J Stein</p><p><strong>47. Single voxel proton magnetic resonance spectroscopy of the amygdala in social anxiety disorder in the context of early developmental trauma</strong></p><p>D Rosenstein, A Hess, S Seedat, E Meintjies</p><p><strong>48. Discussion of HDAC inhibitors, with specific reference to supliride and its use during breastfeeding</strong></p><p>J Roux</p><p><strong>49. Prevalence and clinical correlates of police contact prior to a first diagnosis of schizophrenia</strong></p><p>C Schumann, L Asmal, K Cloete, B Chiliza, R Emsley</p><p><strong>50. Are dreams meaningless?</strong></p><p>M Solms</p><p><strong>51. The conscious id</strong></p><p>M Solms<strong></strong></p><p><strong>52. Depression and resilience in HIV-infected women with early life stress: Does trauma play a mediating role?</strong></p><p>G Spies, S Seedat</p><p><strong>53. State of affairs analysis for forensic psychiatry in SA</strong></p><p>U Subramaney</p><p><strong>54. Escitalopram in the prevention of post-traumatic stress disorder: A pilot randomised controlled trial</strong></p><p>S Suliman, S Seedat, J Pingo, T Sutherland, J Zohar, D J Stein</p><p><strong>55. Epigenetic consequences of adverse early social experiences in primates</strong></p><p>S Suomi</p><p><strong>56. Risk, resilience, and gene x environment interactions in primates</strong></p><p>S Suomi</p><p><strong>57. Biological aspects of anorexia nervosa</strong></p><p>C Szabo</p><p><strong>58. Agents used and profiles of non-fatal suicidal behaviour in East London</strong></p><p>H Uys</p><p><strong>59. The contributions of G-protein coupled receptor signalling to opioid dependence</strong></p><p>J van Tonder</p><p><strong>60. Emerging trend and innovation in PTSD and OCD</strong></p><p>J Zohar</p><p><strong>61. Making the SASOP treatment guidelines operational</strong></p><p>E Allers</p><p><strong>Poster Presentations</strong></p><p><strong>62. Neuropsychological deficits in social anxiety disorder in the context of early developmental trauma</strong></p><p><strong></strong>S Bakelaar, D Rosenstein, S Seedat</p><p><strong>63.Social anxiety disorder in patients with or without early childhood trauma: Relationship to behavioral inhibition and activation and quality of life</strong></p><p><strong></strong>S Bakelaar, C Bruijnen, A Sambeth, S Seedat</p><p><strong>64. Exploring altered affective processing in obssessive compulsive disorder symptom subtypes</strong></p><p>E Breet, J Ipser, D Stein, C Lochner<strong><br /></strong></p><p><strong>65. To investigate the bias toward recognising the facial expression of disgust in obsessive compulsive disorder as well as the effect of escitalopram</strong></p><p>E Breet, J Ipser, D Stein, C Lochner</p><p><strong>66. A fatal-case of nevirapine-induced Stevens-Johnson's syndrome in HIV mania</strong></p><p>A Bronkhorst, Z Zingela, W M Qwesha, B P Magigaba<strong></strong></p><p><strong>67. Association of the COMT G472A (met/met) genotype with lower disability in people diagnosed with multiple sclerosis</strong></p><p>W Davis, S J van Rensburg, L Fisher, F J Cronje, D Geiger, M J Kotze</p><p><strong>68. Homocycsteine levels are associated with the fat mass and obesity associated gene FTO(intron 1 T&gt;A) polymorphism in MS patients</strong></p><p>W Davis, S J Van Rensburg, M J Kotze, L Fisher, M Jalali, F J Cronje, K Moremi, J Gamieldien, D Geiger, M Rensburg, R van Toorn, M J de Klerk, G M Hon, T Matsha, S Hassan, R T Erasmus</p><p><strong>69. Analysis of the COMT 472 G&gt;A (rs4680) polymorphism in relation to environmental influences as contributing factors in patients with schizophrenia</strong></p><p>D de Klerk, S J van Rensburg, R A Emsley, D Geiger, M Rensburg, R T Erasmus, M J Kotze</p><p><strong>70. Dietary folate intake, homocysteine levels and MTHFR mutation detection in South African patients with depression: Test development for clinical application </strong></p><p>D Delport, N vand der Merwe, R Schoeman, M J Kotze</p><p><strong>71. The use ofexome sequencing for antipsychotic pharmacogenomic applications in South African schizophrenia patients</strong></p><p>B Drogmoller, D Niehaus, G Wright, B Chiliza, L Asmal, R Emsley, L Warnich</p><p><strong>72. The effects of HIV on the ventral-striatal reward system</strong></p><p>S du Plessis, M Vink, J Joska, E Koutsilieri, C Scheller, B Spottiswoode, D Stein, R Emsley</p><p><strong>73. Xenomelia relates to asymmetrical insular activity: A case study of fMRI</strong></p><p>S du Plessis, M Vink, L Asmal</p><p><strong>74. Maternal mental helath: A prospective naturalistic study of the outcome of pregancy in women with major psychiatric disorders in an African country</strong></p><p>E du Toit, L Koen, D Niehaus, B Vythilingum, E Jordaan, J Leppanen</p><p><strong>75. Prefrontal cortical thinning and subcortical volume decrease in HIV-positive children with encephalopathy</strong></p><p>J P Fouche, B Spottiswoode, K Donald, D Stein, J Hoare</p><p><strong>76. H-magnetic resonance spectroscopy metabolites in schizophrenia</strong></p><p>F Howells, J Hsieh, H Temmingh, D J Stein</p><p><strong>77. Hypothesis for the development of persistent methamphetamine-induced psychosis</strong></p><p><strong></strong> J Hsieh, D J Stein, F M Howells</p><p><strong>78. Culture, religion, spirituality and psychiatric practice: The SASOP Spirituality and Psychiatry Special Interest Group Action Plan for 2012-2014</strong></p><p>B Janse van Rensburg</p><p><strong>79. Cocaine reduces the efficiency of dopamine uptake in a rodent model of attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder: An <em>in vivo</em> electrochemical study</strong></p><p><strong></strong>L Kellaway, J S Womersley, D J Stein, G A Gerhardt, V A Russell</p><p><strong>80. Kleine-Levin syndrome: Case in an adolescent psychiatric unit</strong></p><p>A Lachman</p><p><strong>81. Increased inflammatory stress specific clinical, lifestyle and therapeutic variables in patients receiving treatment for stress, anxiety or depressive symptoms</strong></p><p>H Luckhoff, M Kotze, S Janse van Rensburg, D Geiger</p><p><strong>82. Catatonia: An eight-case series report</strong></p><p>M Mabenge, Z Zingela, S van Wyk</p><p><strong>83. Relationship between anxiety sensitivity and childhood trauma in a random sample of adolescents from secondary schools in Cape Town</strong></p><p>L Martin, M Viljoen, S Seedat</p><p><strong>84. 'Making ethics real'. An overview of an ethics course presented by Fraser Health Ethics Services, BC, Canada</strong></p><p>JJ McCallaghan</p><p><strong>85. Clozapine discontinuation rates in a public healthcare setting</strong></p><p>M Moolman, W Esterhuysen, R Joubert, J C Lamprecht, M S Lubbe</p><p><strong>86. Retrospective review of clozapine monitoring in a publica sector psychiatric hospital and associated clinics</strong></p><p>M Moolman, W Esterhuysen, R Joubert, J C Lamprecht, M S Lubbe</p><p><strong>87. Association of an iron-related TMPRSS6 genetic variant c.2007 C&gt;7 (rs855791) with functional iron deficiency and its effect on multiple sclerosis risk in the South African population</strong></p><p>K Moremi, S J van Rensburg, L R Fisher, W Davis, F J Cronje, M Jalali Sefid Dashti, J Gamieldien, D Geiger, M Rensburg, R van Toorn, M J de Klerk, G M Hon, T Matsha, S Hassan, R T Erasmus, M Kidd, M J Kotze</p><p><strong>88. Identifying molecular mechanisms of apormophine-induced addictive behaviours</strong></p><p>Z Ndlazi, W Daniels, M Mabandla</p><p><strong>89. Effects of lifestyle factors and biochemistry on the major neck blood vessels in patients with mutiple sclerosis</strong></p><p>M Nelson, S J van Rensburg, M J Kotze, F Isaacs, S Hassan</p><p><strong>90. Nicotine protects against dopamine neurodegenration and improves motor deficits in a Parkinsonian rat model</strong></p><p>N Ngema, P Ngema, M Mabandla, W Daniels</p><p><strong>91. Cognition: Probing anatomical substrates</strong></p><p>H Nowbath</p><p><strong>92. Chronic exposure to light reverses the effects of maternal separation on the rat prefrontal cortex</strong></p><p>V Russel, J Dimatelis</p><p><strong>93. Evaluating a new drug to combat Alzheimer's disease</strong></p><p>S Sibiya, W M U Daniels, M V Mabandla</p><p><strong>94. Structural brain changes in HIV-infected women with and without childhood trauma</strong></p><p>G Spies, F Ahmed, C Fennema-Notestine, S Archibald, S Seedat</p><p><strong>95. Nicotine-stimulated release of hippocampal norepinephrine is reduced in an animal model of attention-deficit/ hyperactivity disorder: the spontaneously hypertensive rat</strong></p><p>T Sterley</p><p><strong>96. Brain-derive neurotrophic factor (BDNF) protein levels in anxiety disorders: Systematic review and meta-regression analysis</strong></p><p>S Suliman, S M J Hemmings, S Seedat</p><p><strong>97. A 12-month retrospective audit of the demographic and clinical profile of mental healthcare users admitted to a district level hospital in the Western Cape, South Africa</strong></p><p>E Thomas, K J Cloete, M Kidd, H Lategan</p><p><strong>98. Magnesium recurarization: A comparison between reversal of neuromuscular block with sugammadex v. neostigmine/ glycopyrrolate in an <em>in vivo</em> rat model</strong></p><p><strong></strong>M van den Berg, M F M James, L A Kellaway</p><p><strong>99. Identification of breast cancer patients at increased risk of 'chemobrain': Case study and review of the literature</strong></p><p>N van der Merwe, R Pienaar, S J van Rensburg, J Bezuidenhout, M J Kotze</p><p><strong>100. The protective role of HAART and NAZA in HIV Tat protein-induced hippocampal cell death</strong></p><p>S Zulu, W M U Daniels, M V Mabandla</p>

The personalised nature of mental illness obscures from general view the intolerable burden of private and public distress that people with serious mental illness carry. Invariably the mentally ill person encounters rejection and humiliation that are in some way tantamount to a "second illness." The combination either disrupts or puts beyond reach the usual personal and social life stages of marriage, family life, raising children, sexual relationships, the choice of treatment, affordable housing, transportation, education and gainful employment. As a result of their lack of financial and social support and their experience of rejection from society, persons with mental illness tend to neglect themselves and their diet, and frequently delay seeking treatment. Against this background, this contribution critically focuses on the human rights that influence the mentally ill patient in South African medical law. Specific attention is paid to the relevance and meaning of sections 9 (the equality clause), 27 (access to health care services), 30 and 31 (language, culture and religion) of the Constitution of the Republic of South Africa, 1996.

Section 211(3) of the Constitution of the Republic of South Africa, 1996 provides that no recognition of customary norms may be upheld if such norms are in conflict with either the constitution or any other law that deals specifically with customary law: “The courts must apply customary law when that law is applicable, subject to the Constitution and any legislation that specifically deals with customary law.” The current Recognition of Customary Marriages Act 120 of 1998 deals explicitly with the recognition of customary marriages which are concluded in accordance with customary law (s 1). Customary law is defined as the “customs and usages traditionally observed among the indigenous African peoples of South Africa and which form part of the culture of those peoples”. It follows from a further reading of section 1 that a customary marriage is reserved for those indigenous African peoples who observe such customs and usages. It is provided in section 10(4) that “[d]espite subsection (1), no spouse of a marriage entered into under the Marriage Act, 1961, is, during the subsistence of such marriage, competent to enter into any other marriage”. This must be read with the definitions contained in section 1: “‘customary law’ means the customs and usages traditionally observed among the indigenous African peoples of South Africa and which form part of the culture of those peoples; ‘customary marriage’ means a marriage concluded in accordance with customary law”. Without the requisite legal competency, no legal subject can enter into any relationship to which the law may attach any consequences. Nobody can enter into a customary marriage if any of the presumed future spouses is already in a civil marriage according to the Marriage Act 25 of 1961, not even if the two parties are married to each other. According to the custom of various indigenous nations, if a man enters into a valid customary marriage with a woman who had never been married before but who is the mother of children born out of wedlock (spurii), the metaphor applies that he “who takes the cow also acquires the calf”. He will as part and parcel of the lobola ceremony be seen as the adopting stepfather of his wife’s children, with all the accompanying consequences. He will automatically be responsible for the future maintenance of those children as his adoptive children and they will acquire all rights and privileges that are bestowed on a child, including the right to inheritance and the right to his family name. As a consequence of this new relationship, all legal ties with the biological father of the adopted child are severed and the biological father will no longer be responsible for the maintenance of his offspring. In January 2019 an erstwhile law professor from UNISA who still retained his German citizenship, was gravely ill and cared for on life-support at a hospital in the Pretoria district. While in hospital, he tied the marriage knot with Miss Vilakazi, a Zulu woman with whom he had been in a relationship for the past five years. Miss Vilakazi was a spinster, but she had a Zulu daughter who was born out of wedlock more than eight years previously out of a relationship with an erstwhile Zulu lover. This child had been in the care of her maternal grandmother in Natal and, according to Zulu customary norms, was considered part of the house of her maternal grandfather, Vilakazi. She consequently carried the name Vilakazi as her registered surname on her official birth certificate. The marriage, which was conducted on 29 January 2019 in the hospital in Pretoria, was concluded with adherence to all the requirements of Act 25 of 1961. The civil marriage was duly registered as such. The late professor passed away in the hospital barely three weeks later on 19 February 2019. Less than 24 hours before the demise of the professor a purported customary marriage was concluded, apparently on behalf of the professor with the recently married Mrs Schulze by proxy by a friend of his in the Newcastle district in Natal after having paid R60 000 as ilobolo. The ceremony was concluded with the ceremonial slaughtering of the prescribed goat. However, during this ceremony the groom was not present but on life support in a Pretoria hospital and not necessarily compos mentis – the court was told that he was represented by a friend. Zulu customary law, however, does not recognise a marriage concluded by proxy with a substitude bridegroom as was known in Roman-Dutch law as “a wedding with the glove”. Neither the Marriage Act nor the Recognition of Customary Marriages Act, however, recognises a second marriage after the conclusion of a civil marriage by any of the purported newly weds – even if both “spouses” had been present in person. The mother of the late Professor Schulze, after his demise in South Africa, amended her last will in Germany and appointed her lifelong partner as sole beneficiary of her significant estate. She passed away in Germany in October 2019. In November 2019 the recently married Mrs Schulze, on behalf of her minor daughter, successfully approached the high court in Pietermaritzburg, where Zaca AJ issued an order compelling the South African department of home affairs to issue the daughter with a new birth certificate that reflects the late Professor Schulze as her father. Notwithstanding the unease of the officials at home affairs with this court order, the minister of home affairs, Mr Motsoaledi, personally intervened in August 2020 and the new birth certificate was issued as requested. Relying on this newly issued birth certificate, the applicant claims an amount of not less than R8 million in Germany from the estate of the late mother of Professor Schulze. For this purpose, the applicant relies on a principle in German law, the Pflichtteilsanspruch, according to which any descendant of the deceased has a right to a prescribed portion, a so-called legitimate portion of the estate, if not mentioned or sufficiently bestowed in the last will. This raises a number of seriously flawed legal arguments that are analysed in this article. It is submitted that the perceived lobola marriage ceremony conducted on behalf of the late professor on 18 February 2019 in Newcastle, less than 24 hours before his demise, is void because of the explicit constitutional provision and the relevant section 10(4) of the Recognition of Customary Marriages Act 120 of 1998, which excludes any competency to enter into a customary marriage if any of the parties involved is already married. At the date of the perceived lobola ceremony, Mrs Schulze had already been civilly married to Professor Schulze for more than three weeks and thus both spouses lacked the necessary competency to enter into a valid customary marriage. Whether a valid customary marriage could have been concluded at all with a man who did not live according to the customs and usages of the Zulu, is also highly questionable. Because the perceived lobola marriage is a nullity, no legal consequences can flow from this nullity and the so-called customary adoption of the daughter (“the calf with the cow”) is a nullity too. At no stage was any of the requirements for a valid adoption as governed by the Children’s Act 38 of 2005 adhered to. The minister of home affairs should have immediately given notice of appeal after the unconvincing judgment of Zaca AJ was handed down in January 2020. As the responsible minister, he should guard the upholding of the constitution and the applicable legal provisions unambiguously contained in the relevant section 10(4) of Act 120 of 1998. It is a pity that the so-called adherence to the principles of the “rule of law” is not even paid lip service in this case. Bennett, as a renowned expert on customary law, correctly pointed out that the legal orders are not unconnected. It may never be assumed that the people concerned are unaware of how to manipulate the resources offered them by legal pluralism (A Sourcebook of African Customary Law for Southern Africa (1991) 50).

AbstractThis study examines the establishment of Islam in colonial Natal, attempting to fill a void in and correct the existing historiography.1 In comparison with other parts of Africa, the lack of a historiographical tradition on Islamic South Africa is conspicuous, but understandable given that traditionally the impact and consequences of racial segregation occupied the attention of most historians. Although Islam is a minority religion in South Africa, apartheid has created an impression of population density not reflected in the census figures. According to the 1996 census, there were 553,585 Muslims in a total population of forty million.2 Indian Muslims make up one of the two largest sub-groups, the other being Malay¸.3 There are 246,433 Malay and 236,315 Indian Muslims.4 The majority of Indian Muslims are confined to KwaZulu Natal and Gauteng, while most Malay Muslims live in the Western Cape. There is thus very little contact and interaction between them; indeed there are deep differences of history, culture, class and tradition. Muslims have played an important role in the social, economic and political life of the country. The many mosques that adorn the skylines of major South African cities are evidence that Islam has a living presence in South Africa, while the militant activities of the Cape-based People Against Gangsterism and Drugs (Pagad) in the post-1994 period has ensured that Islam remains in the news. This study demonstrates that, apart from obvious differences between Indian and Malay Muslims, there are deep-seated differences among Indian Muslims. The diversity of tradition, beliefs, class, practices, language, region, and experience of migration has resulted in fundamental differences that have generated conflict.

Summary Since the colonial period in Africa, ruling elites have manipulated laws regulating citizenship to advance their political and economic interests. The European colonialists used citizenship laws to enhance their ability to maintain control over the colonies and minimize the ability of Africans to fight for independence. Many Africans believed that independence and the establishment of new institutional arrangements would allow them to develop a common national citizenship, one in which all the citizens of each country would have equality before the law and be granted equal opportunity for self-actualization within all parts of the country, regardless of their racial or ethnic affiliation. However, in the post-independence period, incumbent political elites have been acting like their colonial counterparts and have used citizenship laws to get rid of critical and opposing voices by depriving these people of their nationality. In 1996, for example, Zambia’s ruling political party, the Movement for Multi-Party Democracy (MMD), adopted a new constitution, which effectively stripped the country’s independence president, Kenneth Kaunda, of his Zambian citizenship and prevented him from challenging the MMD for leadership of the country. Similarly, in 2000, then president of Côte d’Ivoire, Henri Konan Bédié, changed the constitution and introduced a citizenship clause that effectively disqualified the candidacy of his main opposition, Alassane Ouattara. South Africa’s apartheid regime, on the other hand, introduced a racially-based multilayered citizenship system in which individuals of European origin were placed at the top, enjoying full citizenship rights, and Africans were relegated to the bottom with extremely attenuated citizenship rights. Some African groups were actually forced to lose their South African citizenship. Citizenship is a complex issue and one that citizens of a country must deal with. The paper suggests that in doing so, African countries must not allow citizenship to be defined by race, ethnicity, religion, or other ascriptive traits, but by allegiance or fidelity to a set of values or ideals (e.g., democracy, rule of law, equality before the law) that define the nation.

This article discusses Farid Esack 's epistemological side, who proposed an emancipatory interpretation of what was generally known as liberation hermeneutics in responding to social problems in South Africa. The method used in this research is the library method with analytical material and a historical-philosophical approach that functions to (a) analyze the text itself; (b) objectively trace the historical origins of the character's context, why it carried the hermeneutic idea of its liberation; and (c) analyze the socio-historical circumstances surrounding the character and find the essential building. Based on the research result, the researcher found that Farid Esack 's thought-building was highly motivated by South Africa's socio-historical circumstances enduring humanitarian problems (apartheid). Farid Esack used critical reasoning (al-aql al-naqdy) in which the role of revelation (text), truth (context), and interpreter (reader) was linked in the compilation of his tafsir book. Meanwhile, the method of interpretation was the hermeneutics of the Qur'an based on the context and life experiences of the South African people, whose results were intended as the philosophical basis for freeing the whole society from all types of inequality and exploitation of economy, race, gender, class, and religion.

This was no picturesque semi-fairy story. The drunken gambling merry makers in Bethlehem, heedless of the awful wonder of that night, might easily have been figures in a Sophiatown street scene on Christmas eve…Later while Mary, Joseph and the Holy Child were still in the stable, two Roman soldiers descended upon them – a take off of African Police, complete with assegais and notebook, demanding to know their tribe, place of birth, and reason for being in Bethlehem…This description of a nativity play, complete with a send-up of the South African police, is one snapshot from the life of the Western Areas of Johannesburg. Others could include a large demonstration to back the wage demands of teachers and a home-grown police force. Such idiosyncratic and divergent portraits of community are the backdrop to this study. This article contends that, in their commitment to religion, education and law and order, the people of the Western Areas were deeply attached to respectability. The Western Areas was a cluster of townships – including the famous Sophiatown – which formed one of the most significant black centres of population in South Africa in the 1940s and 1950s. The removal of black people from the Western Areas between 1955 and 1962 constituted one of the most notorious acts of apartheid and ensured the district's place at the heart of protest against white domination. Consequently, to assert that respectability was essential to a working class district such as the Western Areas is to imply that it had a much wider significance.

Many colonial regimes appropriate traditional symbols of power to enhance authority. In many cases this appropriation results in the hardening of more transitory political divisions among subject people into ethnic, national, or tribal ones. Colonialism often, in essence, creates different identities for subject peoples. For example, the East India Company (E.I.C.) and royal colonial government in India manipulated caste and religion to carry out a policy of divide and rule. Moreover, the E.I.C. and later the Raj attempted to create a European-style landed elite that could promote development of agriculture, maintain social control in the countryside and, perhaps most important, collect taxes owed to the government. The Raj attempted to place the structures of power that evolved within the framework of the symbols of Moghul legitimacy, going so far as to create a hybrid traditional style of architecture used in many public buildings that mixed elements from both Hindu and Muslim buildings. In South Africa, colonial legislation, as seen in the process begun by the Glen Gray Act of 1894, resulted in the proletarianization of the African population by creating tribal reservations without enough resources to support all the people often arbitrarily defined as members of a particular tribe. And, as seen in studies of mine labor, coloniallegislation also defined a distinctive legal status for workers.

<p><strong>1. How can we maintain a sustainable private practice in the current political and economic climate?</strong></p><p>Eugene Allers</p><p><strong>2. SASOP Clinical guidelines, protocols and algorithms: Development of treatment guidelines for bipolar mood disorder and major depression</strong></p><p> Eugene Allers, Margaret Nair, Gerhard Grobler</p><p><strong>3. The revolving door phenomenon in psychiatry: Comparing low-frequency and high-frequency users of psychiatric inpatient services in a developing country</strong></p><p>U A Botha, P Oosthuien, L Koen, J A Joska, J Parker, N Horn</p><p><strong>4. Neurophysiology of emotion and senses - The interface between psyche and soma</strong></p><p>Eugene Allers</p><p><strong>5. Suicide prevention: From and beyond the psychiatrist's hands</strong></p><p>O Alonso Betanourt, M Morales Herrera</p><p><strong>6. Treatment of first-episod psychosis: Efficacy and toleabilty of a long-acting typical antipsychotic </strong></p><p>B Chiliza, R Schoeman, R Emsey, P Oosthuizen, L KOen, D Niehaus, S Hawkridge</p><p><strong>7. Treatment of attention deficit hyperactivity disorder in the young child</strong></p><p>Helen Clark</p><p><strong>8. Holistic/ Alternative treatment in psychiatry: The value of indigenous knowledge systems in cllaboration with moral, ethical and religious approaches in the military services</strong></p><p>J Dill</p><p><strong>9. Treating Schizophrenia: Have we got it wrong?</strong></p><p>Robin Emsley</p><p><strong>10.Terminal questions in the elderly</strong></p><p>Mike Ewart Smith</p><p><strong>11. Mental Health Policy development and implementation in Ghana, South Africa, Uganda and Zambia</strong></p><p>Alan J Flisher, Crick Lund, Michelle Frank, Arvin Bhana, Victor Doku, Natalie Drew, Fred N Kigozi, Martin Knapp, Mayeh Omar, Inge Petersen, Andrew Green andthe MHaPP Research Programme Consortium</p><p><strong>12. What indicators should be used to monitor progress in scaling uo services for people with mental disorders?</strong></p><p>Lancet Global Mental Health Group (Alan J Flisher, Dan Chisholm, Crick Lund, Vikram Patel, Shokhar Saxena, Graham Thornicroft, Mark Tomlinson)</p><p><strong>13. Does unipolar mania merit research in South Africa? A look at the literature</strong></p><p>Christoffel Grobler</p><p><strong>14. Revisiting the Cartesian duality of mind and body</strong></p><p>Oye Gureje</p><p><strong>15. Child and adolescent psychopharmacology: Current trends and complexities</strong></p><p>S M Hawkridge</p><p><strong>16. Integrating mental illness, suicide and religion</strong></p><p>Volker Hitzeroth</p><p><strong>17. Cost of acute inpatient mental health care in a 72-hour assessment uniy</strong></p><p>A B R Janse van Rensburg, W Jassat</p><p><strong>18. Management of Schizophrenia according to South African standard treatment guidelines</strong></p><p>A B R Janse van Rensburg</p><p><strong>19. Structural brain imaging in the clinical management of psychiatric illness</strong></p><p>F Y Jeenah</p><p><strong>20. ADHD: Change in symptoms from child to adulthood</strong></p><p>S A Jeeva, A Turgay</p><p><strong>21. HIV-Positive psychiatric patients in antiretrovirals</strong></p><p>G Jonsson, F Y Jeenah, M Y H Moosa</p><p><strong>22. A one year review of patients admitted to tertiary HIV/Neuropsychiatry beds in the Western Cape</strong></p><p>John Joska, Paul Carey, Ian Lewis, Paul Magni, Don Wilson, Dan J Stein</p><p><strong>23. Star'd - Critical review and treatment implications</strong></p><p>Andre Joubert</p><p><strong>24. Options for treatment-resistent depression: Lessons from Star'd; an interactive session</strong></p><p>Andre Joubert</p><p><strong>25. My brain made me do it: How Neuroscience may change the insanity defence</strong></p><p>Sean Kaliski</p><p><strong>26. Child andadolescent mental health services in four African countries</strong></p><p>Sharon Kleintjies, Alan Flisher, Victoruia Campbell-Hall, Arvin Bhana, Phillippa Bird, Victor Doku, Natalie, Drew, Michelle Funk, Andrew Green, Fred Kigozi, Crick Lund, Angela Ofori-Atta, Mayeh Omar, Inge Petersen, Mental Health and Poverty Research Programme Consortium</p><p><strong>27. Individualistic theories of risk behaviour</strong></p><p>Liezl Kramer, Volker Hitzeroth</p><p><strong>28. Development and implementation of mental health poliy and law in South Africa: What is the impact of stigma?</strong></p><p>Ritsuko Kakuma, Sharon Kleintjes, Crick Lund, Alan J Flisher, Paula Goering, MHaPP Research Programme Consortium</p><p><strong>29. Factors contributing to community reintegration of long-term mental health crae users of Weskoppies Hospital</strong></p><p>Carri Lewis, Christa Kruger</p><p><strong>30. Mental health and poverty: A systematic review of the research in low- and middle-income countries</strong></p><p>Crick Lund, Allison Breen, Allan J Flisher, Ritsuko Kakuma, Leslie Swartz, John Joska, Joanne Corrigall, Vikram Patel, MHaPP Research Programe Consortium</p><p><strong>31. The cost of scaling up mental health care in low- and middle-income countries</strong></p><p>Crick Lund, Dan Chishlom, Shekhar Saxena</p><p><strong>32. 'Tikking'Clock: The impact of a methamphetamine epidemic at a psychiatric hospital in the Western Cape</strong></p><p>P Milligan, J S Parker</p><p><strong>33. Durban youth healh-sk behaviour: Prevalence f Violence-related behaviour</strong></p><p>D L Mkize</p><p><strong>34. Profile of morality of patients amitted Weskoppies Psychiatric Hospital in Sout frican over a 5-Year period (2001-2005)</strong></p><p>N M Moola, N Khamker, J L Roos, P Rheeder</p><p><strong>35. One flew over Psychiatry nest</strong></p><p>Leverne Mountany</p><p><strong>36. The ethical relationship betwe psychiatrists and the pharmaceutical indutry</strong></p><p>Margaret G Nair</p><p><strong>37. Developing the frameor of a postgraduate da programme in mental health</strong></p><p>R J Nichol, B de Klerk, M M Nel, G van Zyl, J Hay</p><p><strong>38. An unfolding story: The experience with HIV-ve patients at a Psychiatric Hospital</strong></p><p>J S Parker, P Milligan</p><p><strong>39. Task shifting: A practical strategy for scalingup mental health care in developing countries</strong></p><p>Vikram Patel</p><p><strong>40. Ethics: Informed consent and competency in the elderly</strong></p><p>Willie Pienaar</p><p><strong>41. Confronting ommonmoral dilemmas. Celebrating uncertainty, while in search patient good</strong></p><p>Willie Pienaar</p><p><strong>42. Moral dilemmas in the treatment and repatriation of patients with psychtorders while visiting our country</strong></p><p>Duncan Ian Rodseth</p><p><strong>43. Geriatrics workshop (Psegal symposium): Medico-legal issuess in geriatric psyhiatry</strong></p><p>Felix Potocnik</p><p><strong>44. Brain stimulation techniques - update on recent research</strong></p><p>P J Pretorius</p><p><strong>45. Holistic/Alternative treatments in psychiatry</strong></p><p>T Rangaka, J Dill</p><p><strong>46. Cognitive behaviour therapy and other brief interventions for management of substances</strong></p><p>Solomon Rataemane</p><p><strong>47. A Transtheoretical view of change</strong></p><p>Nathan P Rogerson</p><p><strong>48. Profile of security breaches in longerm mental health care users at Weskoppies Hospital over a 6-month period</strong></p><p>Deleyn Rema, Lindiwe Mthethwa, Christa Kruger</p><p><strong>49. Management of psychogenic and chronic pain - A novel approach</strong></p><p>M S Salduker</p><p><strong>50. Childhood ADHD and bipolar mood disorders: Differences and similarities</strong></p><p>L Scribante</p><p><strong>51. The choice of antipsychotic in HIV-infected patients and psychopharmacocal responses to antipsychotic medication</strong></p><p>Dinesh Singh, Karl Goodkin</p><p><strong>52. Pearls in clinical neuroscience: A teaching column in CNS Spectrums</strong></p><p><strong></strong>Dan J Stein</p><p><strong>53. Urinary Cortisol secretion and traumatics in a cohort of SA Metro policemen A longitudinal study</strong></p><p>Ugash Subramaney</p><p><strong>54. Canabis use in Psychiatric inpatients</strong></p><p><strong></strong>M Talatala, G M Nair, D L Mkize</p><p><strong>55. Pathways to care and treatmt in first and multi-episodepsychosis: Findings fm a developing country</strong></p><p>H S Teh, P P Oosthuizen</p><p><strong>56. Mental disorders in HIV-infected indivat various HIV Treatment sites in South Africa</strong></p><p>Rita Thom</p><p><strong>57. Attendanc ile of long-term mental health care users at ocupational therapy group sessions at Weskoppies Hospital</strong></p><p>Ronel van der Westhuizen, Christa Kruger</p><p><strong>58. Epidemiological patterns of extra-medical drug use in South Africa: Results from the South African stress and health study</strong></p><p>Margaretha S van Heerden, Anna Grimsrud, David Williams, Dan Stein</p><p><strong>59. Persocentred diagnosis: Where d ps and mental disorders fit in the International classificaton of diseases (ICD)?</strong></p><p>Werdie van Staden</p><p><strong>60. What every psychiatrist needs to know about scans</strong></p><p>Herman van Vuuren</p><p><strong>61. Psychiatric morbidity in health care workers withle drug-resistant erulosis (MDR-TB) A case series</strong></p><p>Urvashi Vasant, Dinesh Singh</p><p><strong>62. Association between uetrine artery pulsatility index and antenatal maternal psychological stress</strong></p><p>Bavanisha Vythilingum, Lut Geerts, Annerine Roos, Sheila Faure, Dan J Stein</p><p><strong>63. Approaching the dual diagnosis dilemma</strong></p><p>Lize Weich</p><p><strong>64. Women's mental health: Onset of mood disturbance in midlife - Fact or fiction</strong></p><p>Denise White</p><p><strong>65. Failing or faking: Isses in the fiagnosis and treatment of adult ADHD</strong></p><p>Dora Wynchank</p>

Spain is more commonly known as Andalusia, the Andalusia comes from the word Vandalusia, which means the country of the Vandals, because the southern part of the Peninsula was once ruled by the Vandals before they were defeated by Western Gothia in the fifth century. This area was ruled by Islam after the rulers of The Umayyah seized the peninsula's land from the West Gothies during the time of the Caliph Al-Walid ibn Abdul Malik. Islam entered Spain (Cordoba) in 93 AH (711 AD) through the North African route under the leadership of Tariq bin Ziyad who led the Islamic army to conquer Andalusia. Before the conquest of Spain, Muslims had taken control of North Africa and made it one of the provinces from the Umayyad Dynasty. Full control of North Africa took place in the days of Caliph Abdul Malik (685-705 AD). Conquest of the North African region first defeated until becoming one of the provinces of the Umayyad Caliph spent 53 years, starting from 30 H (Muawiyah ibn Abi Sufyan's reign) to 83 H (al-Walid's period). Before being defeated and then ruled by Islam, in this region there were sacs which became the basis of the power of the Roman Empire, namely the Gothic Kingdom. In the process of conquering Spain there were three Islamic heroes who could be said to be the most effective in leading units of troops there. They are Tharif ibn Malik, Tariq ibn Ziyad, and Musa ibn Nushair. Subsequent territorial expansion emerged during the reign of Caliph Umar ibn Abdil Aziz in the year 99 AH/717 AD, with the aim of controlling the area around the Pyrenian mountains and South France. The second largest invasion of the Muslims, whose movement began at the beginning of the 8th century AD, has reached all of Spain and reached far to Central France and important parts of Italy. The victories achieved by Muslims appear so easy. It cannot be separated from the existence of external and internal factors. During the conquest of Spain by Muslims, the social, political and economic conditions of this country were in a sad state. Politically, the Spanish region was torn apart and divided into several small countries. At the same time, the Gothic rulers were intolerant of the religious beliefs adopted by the rulers, namely the Monophysites, especially those who adhered to other religions, Jews. Adherents of Judaism, the largest part of the Spanish population, were forced to be baptized to Christianity. Those who are unwilling brutally tortured and killed. The people are divided into the class system, so that the situation is filled with poverty, oppression, and the absence of equality. In such situations, the oppressed await the arrival of the liberator and the liberator was from Muslims. Warrior figures and Islamic soldiers who were involved in the conquest of Spain are strong figures, their soldiers are compact, united, and full of confidence. They are also capable, courageous, and resilient in facing every problem. Equally important are the teachings of Islam shown by the Islamic soldiers, like tolerance, brotherhood, and help each other. The attitude of tolerance of religion and brotherhood contained in the personalities of the Muslims caused the Spanish population to welcome the presence of Islam there. Since the first time Islam entered in the land of Spain until the collapse of the last Islamic empire was about seven and half centuries, Islam played a big role, both in fields of intellectual progress (philosophy, science, fiqh, music and art, language and literature) and the splendor of physical buildings (Cordova and Granada). The long history passed by Muslims in Spain can be divided into six periods. Spanish Muslims reached the peak of progress and glory rivaled the glory of the Abbasid sovereignty in Baghdad. Abdurrahman Al-Nasir founded the Cordova University. He preceded Al-Azhar Cairo and Baghdad Nizhamiyah.

The issue that this article dealt with is whether, in South African law, speech that infringes upon the religious feelings of an individual is protected by the dignity clause in the Constitution of the Republic of South Africa. The Constitution, as well as the Broadcasting Code, prohibits language that advocates hatred, inter alia, based on religion and that constitutes incitement to cause harm. Dignity, which is a central Constitutional right, relates to the sense of self worth which a person has. A Court has held that religious feelings, national pride and language do not form part of dignity, for purposes of protection in law. The Broadcasting Complaints Commission has, similarly, decided that a point of view seriously derogatory of ‘Calvinistic people’ blaming (some of) them as being hypocritical and even acting criminally is not protected by dignity. It would have to be accompanied by the advocacy of hatred as defined previously. The author, however, pointed out that on occasion different facts might found a finding in law that religion is so closely connected to dignity, that it will indeed be regarded as part thereof.

This article provides a critique of the role played by progressive missionaries in securing land for the African people in some selected mission stations in South Africa. It argues that, in spite of the dominant narrative that the missionaries played a role in the dispossession of the African people of their land, there are those who refused to participate in the dispossession. Instead, they used their status, colour and privilege to subvert the policy of land dispossession. It critically examines the work done by four progressive missionaries from different denominations in their attempt to subvert the laws of land dispossession by facilitating land ownership for Africans. The article interacts with the work of Revs John Philip (LMS), James Allison (Methodist), William Wilcox and John Langalibalele Dube (American Zulu Mission [AZM]), who devised land redistributive mechanisms as part of their mission strategies to benefit the disenfranchised Africans.

South Africa is known as the rainbow nation because of its variety of culture and religion. In essence South Africa is a spiritual nation, and 85.7% of her people affiliate to a Christian belief system. Despite this, crimes against women and children run rampant as some traditional male roles advocate patriarchal values that at times negatively affect relations between men and women. This article postulates that specific patriarchal values inform the development of a masculine identity, in spite of the fact that most South African families are headed by female caregivers. At the same time, however, most of these families are affected by extreme poverty and father absence; therefore, many boys are raised without an adequate male role model. This article, emanating from a broader study, explores the relationship between the development of a masculine identity amidst father absence, influenced by rapid colonisation and in the context of a specific religion and culture. It reflects on some of the narratives of the research participants that relates specifically to the theme of ‘what it means to be a real man’, eliciting the dominant discourses around masculinity and femininity in South Africa, informed by religion, traditional culture and pop culture. This article then postulates that religiosity in South Africa is not removed from the social function and performance of the social constructs of masculinity, cultural values and parental involvement and that these constructs interact with each other in a special way to produce what we come to know as the South African man.

This article argues that South African society is not receptive to gays and lesbians although South Africa is regarded as the country that has the most liberal constitution, especially when it comes to gay and lesbian rights. The rejection could be ascribed to various factors such as the socialisation of individuals. Young boys and girls are raised to understand that their destiny is to get married and bear children. In Zulu society, unmarried people are stigmatised by name-calling. There is a lot of research that has been undertaken on homosexuality and lesbianism. Mkasi (2013) discussed homosexuality amongst izangoma. Ngcobo (2007) undertook this study to describe the difficulties faced by homosexual students, their perception and understanding of social discrimination. The socio-cultural theory has been applied to re-enforce the argument. This research article highlights the argument that folklore in the form of folktales are used as a conduit to socialise the growing mind to accept that everyone is destined to marry and bear children. Anybody who deviates from this set of norms should be ostracised and punished. Such deep-rooted perceptions contribute to homophobia and violence against gays and lesbians.

Most articles evaluating the African traditional worldview focus an attack on the ancestor cult or highlight positive aspects of the worldview. In either case, mention of the this-worldly religious focus tends to be ‘in passing’. An evaluation of this aspect of the worldview is a gap in the research, which this article seeks to address. The findings should significantly affect evangelical ministry method to many people in the country. The this-worldly religious focus of the African traditional worldview as found in South Africa is considered. It is a focus which hardly, if ever, looks beyond this world and this age. The this-worldly focus is a significant feature of the African traditional worldview and related African Traditional Religion (ATR). The concern raised is that this feature of the worldview is prevalent in the country, is unbiblical and is a major problem affecting the church. The article first describes the this-worldly religious focus and how it is expressed in ATR and in those strongly influenced by ATR. It then discusses its prevalence in South Africa. A biblical evaluation is then done, considering what the Bible has to say on the matter and considering the views of some evangelicals. Finally, some proposals are made for responding to the challenge. There are significant steps that can be taken to counteract the problem and so design evangelism and discipleship that the African believers are moved to resist rather than follow the this-worldly religious focus and so more faithfully follow the way of our Lord.Intradisciplinary and/or interdisciplinary implications: Most articles evaluating the African traditional worldview focus an attack on the ancestor cult or highlight positive aspects of the worldview. In either case, mention of the this-worldly religious focus tend to be ‘in passing’ across the research spectrum. An evaluation of this aspect of the worldview is a gap in the research across many disciplines, which this article seeks to address. The findings should significantly affect evangelical ministry method to many people in the country working within these communities. This approach considers anthropological and Biblical insights in a compelling manner.

I hate being misunderstood. I guess we all do, but it goes with the territory. I use the word coloured, and he seems offended: 'We Brits don't say 'coloured'. It's regarded as patronising. We say black, if we say anything. And if we do it's for reasons of simple practicality. It doesn't matter. ' Of course, what he seems to be missing, is that the word coloured in South Africa now refers less to skin colour, and more to a distinct cultural group, with it's own language (a dialect of Afrikaans), food (of Malay origin), and music. To say black in this context would be inaccurate, and cause confusion. Danya and Kyla attend the Yeoville Community School, situated in a vibrant and culturally diverse suburb of Johannesburg. On returning from school one day Danya announces: 'We have to do something at school about our culture. What is our culture Daddy?'To which her father replies, 'Go and ask your mother.' 'Well…we're sort of New Age, sort of holistic…', Toni fumbles. A few days later… 'So what did you do in the end?' Soli asks. 'Oh, us and all the other coloured kids sang, Daar Kom die Alabama'1 says Kyla. It would seem that children want to know where they come from. 'I want you to divide yourself up into your different race groups', the facilitator says. We are in a Managing Diversity workshop, and he means the old South African race classification system, but of course he wants to see what we do with it. We end up with a group of Blacks (including three 'Asians'); an African group (including two 'Whites'); a White group (two); and the Human Race (two).'Why didn't you join the white group?' Thloki asks the Human Race.'I don't define myself by my race', I reply.'Ha! Wait till there's a war over resources' he laughs, 'then you'll quickly pick a side!' The postmodernist argument ensues: 'There is no such thing as race…all these arbitrary classifications…it's nothing but a social construct!''Well you never lived as a black person under apartheid. It was very real to me!'The facilitator aims to mediate/translate for the rest of us: 'Well yes, it is just a social construct. But one which had very real consequences for people.' 'Nobody goes into town anymore' a woman says. To which Har Bhajan replies, 'When I was last in town, there were lots of people there.' Of course, what she means is, hardly any white people go into town anymore. (And she's right about that.) But what is that, the way certain people become invisible, depending on who's looking? My friend Karima and I attend an Al Jarreau concert. Fairly expensive tickets, and almost the entire audience is black. I'm not sure why I'm quite so surprised. But this is Sandton, the richest formerly white suburb of Johannesburg. Perhaps working in the NGO sector I've missed how much things are actually changing… I wonder how many people in the audience have been into town lately. With the shift in power, and the -- albeit slow -- levelling of the playing field, now it is possible for white South Africans to be at the receiving end of racial discrimination too… I am visiting my cousin. He is 60, and a musician. But times are tough for him now. His brother was shot dead in his driveway while someone stole his car. And it's hard for him to find work. 'I am too white, now', he says. He is not bitter, just saddened. In his day he had probably the most famous jazz club in Johannesburg. Rumours it was called. 'The best little bootlegger in Bellevue' he called himself. He was known for breaking the law then. His club was racially integrated long before it was allowed. Controversial South African artist, Beezy Bailey, has an alter ego: 'The creation of Joyce was born of the frustration of 'increasingly prevalent affirmative action'. Bailey submitted two artworks for a triennial exhibition. One was with the traditional 'Beezy Bailey' signature (rejected) the other signed 'Joyce Ntobe'! The latter now enjoys an honoured place in the SA National Gallery as part of its permanent collection. When the curator of the SA National Gallery wanted to work on a paper about three black women artists, Joyce Ntobe being one, Bailey let the cat out the bag which caused a huge media 'scandale'.' (Carmel Art) I spent three months in London, and I realised how easy it is to be white there. Or rather, how easy it is to not be white. Of course, it 'doesn't matter' there, because it doesn't matter. It's easy to donate a monthly cheque to Worldvision, and read about the latest chaos in Zimbabwe in the free rag on the tube, and never have to look overwhelming poverty and disease in the face. But when you live on the African continent, you are very aware of being white. At the diversity workshop, I realise how white South Africans seem to get to take the rap here for the actions of white people on the planet. It's not just the effects of apartheid that black South Africans are angry about it seems, it's also the effects of the global economy, that cause the rich to become richer, and the poor to become poorer. Oh sure, that's not just an issue of race, but the poorest on our planet remain 'people of colour', and wealth remains concentrated in the West/North. I realise also that the Black and African groups at the workshop have one thing that they agree on quite strongly - the importance of making the African continent one's focus. Though the two of us in the Human Race group have both read Naomi Klein's No Logo -- and care about the effects on the poor of economic globalisation -- our sense of 'internationalism' is not viewed in a positive light, but seen rather as 'elitist'. * * * 'The thing about the Dutch' says Gary, 'is that they're pragmatic. They're not politically correct -- call the prostitutes prostitutes, not sex workers, but tax them, and give them health care. They have a strong human rights culture.' The Afrikaners are descendents of these transparent, curtainless Dutch. Sometimes I can see it. 'It is not words that make for bigotry, but attitudes', says columnist Ira Pilgrim. 'Some of the most bigoted people I have known always used the 'correct' words.'2 I am not politically correct. There are certain words I'd never use, and couldn't bring myself to, not out of political correctness, but because they're invested with hate. But words like 'whitey', darkie' and 'honky', where I sit, are terms of endearment. I'd never use them on strangers, but amongst friends, they're terms of affection and irony, because we're laughing at ourselves, and each other. 'It's hard to explain to anyone' Gary continues, 'what it's like living in a place where -- from the time you wake up in the morning, till you close your eyes at night -- every breath that you take is politicised.' Gary left the country because he didn't want to be conscripted to fight a war he didn't believe in. He's done well for himself in Europe. But he had to give up his homeland. I catch a 'Zola', the mini-bus taxi named after South Africa's barefoot runner Zola Budd, probably most famous for inadvertently tripping Mary Decker at the 1984 Olympics (Finnegan). Zola was little and fast, like the taxi's that 'zip, zip, zip' -- often to the infuriation of other motorists -- hence the affectionate nickname. They're the peril of the road, but the saviour of the immobile masses, with their unique language and hand signals. I overhear bits of Zulu conversation, including 'Brooke…Ridge…Thorne.' Our soaps, too, are politicised. It would seem that even black South Africans watch The Bold and the Beautiful for light relief. Usually I am the only whitey here, but accepted as just another carless commuter moving from A to B. Despite the safety risks of bad driving, I enjoy it. I did a Zulu course a few years ago. I didn't learn much Zulu -- discovered I don't have the tongue or an ear for African languages -- but I learnt a lot from the course nevertheless. 'Tell us about an experience that you've had, that was a result of cultural misunderstandings' says the facilitator. 'I spent much of my first year at University hungry' says Nhlanhla. 'My white friends would offer me food when I was visiting, but I would refuse, because in our culture, if you ask you don't really want to give. We just hand you a plate.' Nombulelo tells of the time she went on a yoga retreat. She was confused when she started to undress openly in the dormitory, and got disapproving looks from the other women. 'Why?' she wondered, 'we are all women together?' But these were Hindu women, whose sense of modesty was different from the openness of African women. For the whiteys, the major confusion seems to come from the issue of timekeeping. 'African time' is often referred to. Though in London, I did hear talk of 'Caribbean time'. Perhaps the concept of being on time is a particularly Western one (Makhale-Mahlangu). We are visiting friends of friends. There's an unlikely combination at the dinner table. She is tall and dark. I am short and fair. 'So where do you two know each other from?' Cairo asks. 'I'm Andie's sister', Kim replies. She reads the dumbfoundedness in Cairo's face. 'What can I say…my line got a bit deviated!' she laughs. She has my father's sense of humour. So have I. I ask my father, when he first became aware of racial prejudice. 'I was about six years old', he says. 'I threw my ball out of the school grounds, and called to the black man outside: 'Boy, please would you throw my ball back to me?' And the man replied: 'I am not a boy. I am old enough to be your grandfather.'' I am thinking about the time in our lives before we become aware of race… A friend tells me a story about how her six-year-old daughter came home from school and asked, 'Mommy, what's a [racist-term-not-to-be-repeated]?' She'd been called that. The late Lenny Bruce, controversial American comedian and social critic in the sixties, argued that it is 'the word that gives it the power of violence'3, and if we used 'the words' colloquially often enough, and began to invest them with new meanings, they would lose their power to hurt us. I am about to board a bus…'Woza (come) Mama', says the driver. 'Uyaphi?' (Where are you going?) '…green green, I'm going away to where the grass is greener still', come the Reggae sounds from his radio. We are discussing whether we should be focusing on our sameness or our differences. 'Of course we all want the same things…a home, a job, an education for our children', says Karima, but it's our differences that make us interesting.' I agree. Notes 1 Daar Kom die Alabama (Here Comes the Alabama) is a traditional 'Cape Coloured' song, originally sung in tribute to the Alabama, a confederate ship that docked in Cape Town in 1863. On board were Al Jolson-esque (Burlesque) performers, whom the slaves admired, and they imitated their style of performance. This tradition continues still today with the 'Coon Carnival' held on New Years Day and 'Tweede Nuwe Jaar' (Second New Year). It is said that the custom of Tweede Nuwe Jaar originated as a holiday for the slaves, who were too busy attending to their masters' needs on the first. For more information on the Coon Carnival, see http://www.iias.nl/host/ccrss/cp/cp3/cp3-__171___.html. 2 While the author makes some important general points about the drawbacks of political correctness, his reference to South Africa (including the correction) are in fact incorrect. The apartheid government had four major 'population groups' in it's classification system: African (black), Coloured, Asian and White. (The term black was used then only informally.) These were then sub-divided into other categories. See http://www.csvr.org.za/race.htm for further details. 3 The relevant extract from Julian Barry's 1971 play Lenny, can be found at http://www.abc.net.au/rn/talks/8.30/relrpt/stories/s271585.htm. References Barry, Julian. Lenny. Random House, 1971. http://www.freenetpages.co.uk/hp/lennybruce/ Downloaded 14 April 2002. Carmel Art Galleries. Beezy Bailey Curriculum Vitae, at http://www.carmelart.co.za/site/cvbb.htm Downloaded 14 April 2002. Finnegan, Mark. 'The 10 worst mishaps in the history of sport.' Observer Sport Monthly 5 November (2000). http://www.observer.co.uk/osm/story/0,69... Downloaded 14 April 2002. Klein, Naomi. No Logo: Taking Aim at the Brand Bullies. USA: Picador, 2000. http://www.nologo.org/ Downloaded 14 April 2002. Makhale-Mahlangu, Palesa. 'Reflections on Trauma Counselling Methods.' Seminar presented at the Centre for the Study of Violence and Reconciliation, Johannesburg, 31 July 1996. http://www.csvr.org.za/articles/artpales.htm Downloaded 14 April 2002. Martin, Denis-Constant. 'The Famous Invincible Darkies Cape Town's Coon Carnival: Aesthetic Transformation, Collective Representations and Social Meanings', 1998. http://www.iias.nl/host/ccrss/cp/cp3/cp3-__171___.html Downloaded 14 April 2002. Pilgrim, Ira. 'Kikes, Niggers, Queers, Scotchmen and Chinamen', Mendocino County Observer, 22 March (1990). http://www.mcn.org/c/irapilgrim/race02.html Downloaded 14 April 2002. Transfer of African Language Knowledge (TALK). http://www.icon.co.za/~sadiverse/about.htm Downloaded 14 April 2002. Andie Miller was born, and spent the first 23 years of her life at the Southern-most tip of the African continent, in Cape Town. She currently works as webmaster for the Centre for the Study of Violence and Reconciliation, and the National Development Agency in Johannesburg, South Africa. Links http://www.observer.co.uk/osm/story/0 http://www.iias.nl/host/ccrss/cp/cp3/cp3-__171___.html http://www.carmelart.co.za/site/cvbb.htm http://www.csvr.org.za/ http://www.abc.net.au/rn/talks/8.30/relrpt/stories/s271585.htm http://www.csvr.org.za/articles/artpales.htm http://www.nologo.org/ http://www.mcn.org/c/irapilgrim/race02.html http://www.freenetpages.co.uk/hp/lennybruce/ http://www.icon.co.za/~sadiverse/about.htm http://www.csvr.org.za/race.htm http://www.nda.org.za/ Citation reference for this article MLA Style Miller, Andie. "Multiculturalism and Shades of Meaning in the New South Africa" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5.3 (2002). [your date of access] < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0207/shadesofmeaning.php>. Chicago Style Miller, Andie, "Multiculturalism and Shades of Meaning in the New South Africa" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5, no. 3 (2002), < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0207/shadesofmeaning.php> ([your date of access]). APA Style Miller, Andie. (2002) Multiculturalism and Shades of Meaning in the New South Africa. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5(3). < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0207/shadesofmeaning.php> ([your date of access]).

The purpose of this survey was to explore religious coping strategies and to what extent black South Africans directly attributed their health and/or diseases to supernatural forces such as the ancestors and magic. A total of 3000 structured questionnaires were distributed to South Africans of all ethnicities, of which 575 were received back, but only those received from black participants (411) were considered for this study. The SPSS 21 statistical program was used to analyse the data. The results of the study suggest that Mbiti�s remark that health and disease in Africa are seen primarily within a religious (i.e. supernatural) framework still holds true for the black South African participants in this study. More than 80% (81.5%) of the participants attributed their health and diseases primarily to the ancestors and magic,whilst only 16.1% of the participants ascribed any importance to natural causes of diseases(e.g. germs and unprotected sex). These beliefs were especially strong amongst city or town dwellers, people of higher educational level and members of so-called �mainline� churches (i.e.members of non-Zionist churches). Intradisciplinary and/or interdisciplinary implications: The article is interdisciplinary in nature covering the following fields: religion, psychology; health studies.

Orientation: South Africa has faced a number of discriminatory practices in the past. Most of these practices are still present today. Although a considerate amount of attention has been given to discrimination based on gender, race and religion, limited emphasis has been placed on discrimination based on disability, specifically within the workplace.Research purpose: The objective of the study was to explore the perceptions of individuals living with a disability with regards to career advancement challenges they face in the South African workplace.Motivation for study: The research literature shows that irrespective of employment equity legislation, employees with disabilities have restricted opportunities to advance in their careers. Research is needed to assist these employees with their career development.Research design, approach and method: A qualitative research design with an exploratory approach was followed. Probability, purposeful and snowballing sampling techniques were applied in this study on 15 employed individuals with declared disabilities. The data were collected by means of semi-structured interviews and the verbatim transcriptions were analysed by content analysis.Main findings/results: The findings indicated that people with disabilities generally experience career advancement challenges and reach career plateau. Managers and colleagues’ lack of knowledge about disability has an adverse impact on the careers of people living with a disability. The study found that human resource practices, especially promotion opportunities, discriminate against employees with disabilities. Furthermore, the study further indicated that there is prejudice against invisible disabilities, and as a result, employees are reluctant to declare their disability.Practical implications: Human resource practitioners and managers need to recognise the influence that disabilities have on the career advancement of individuals living with a disability in order to assist such individuals in their own career development.Contribution: The findings of this study will help companies improve their practices on the integration and inclusion of employees with disabilities and also on decision-making regarding their careers.

This paper explores South African hip-hop activist Emile YX?'s work to suggest that he presents an alternative take on mainstream US and South African hip-hop. While it is arguable that a great deal of mainstream hip-hop is commercially co-opted, it is clear that a significant amount of US hip-hop (by Angel Haze or Talib Kweli, for example) and hip-hop beyond the US (by Positive Black Soul, Godessa, Black Noise or Prophets of da City, for example) present alternatives to its co-option. Emile YX? pushes for an alternative to mainstream hip-hop's aesthetics and politics. Foregoing what Prophets of da City call “mindless topics” (Prophets of da City “Cape Crusader”), he employs hip-hop to engage audiences critically about social and political issues, including language and racial identity politics. Significantly, he embraces AfriKaaps, which is a challenge to the hegemonic speech variety of Afrikaans. From Emile's perspective, AfriKaaps preceded Afrikaans because it was spoken by slaves during the Cape colonial era and was later culturally appropriated by Afrikaner Nationalists in the apartheid era to construct white, Afrikaner identity as pure and bounded. AfriKaaps in hip-hop therefore presents an alternative to mainstream US-centric hip-hop in South Africa (via AKA or Cassper Nyovest, for example) as well as Afrikaner Nationalist representations of Afrikaans and race by promoting multilingual hip-hop aesthetics, which was initially advanced by Prophets of da City in the early '90s.Pursuing Alternative TrajectoriesEmile YX?, a former school teacher, started out with the Black Consciousness-aligned hip-hop crew, Black Noise, as a b-boy in the late 1980s before becoming an MC. Black Noise went through a number of iterations, eventually being led by YX? (aka Emile Jansen) after he persuaded the crew not to pursue a mainstream record deal in favour of plotting a career path as independent artists. The crew’s strategy has been to fund the production and distribution of their albums independently and to combine their work as recording and performing artists with their activism. They therefore arranged community workshops at schools and, initially, their local library in the township, Grassy Park, before touring nationally and internationally. By the late 1990s, Jansen established an NGO, Heal the Hood, in order to facilitate collaborative projects with European and South African partners. These partnerships, not only allowed Black Noise crew members to continue working as hip-hip activists, but also created a network through which they could distribute their music and secure further bookings for performances locally and internationally.Jansen’s solo work continued along this trajectory and he has gone on to work on collaborative projects, such as the hip-hop theatre show Afrikaaps, which looks critically at the history of Afrikaans and identity politics, and Mixed Mense, a b-boy show that celebrates African dance traditions and performed at One Mic Festival at the Kennedy Center in Washington DC in 2014 (48 Hours). This artist’s decision not to pursue a mainstream record deal in the early 1990s probably saved Black Noise from being a short-lived pop sensation in favour of pursuing a route that ensured that Cape hip-hop retained its alternative, Black Consciousness-inspired subcultural edge.The activism of Black Noise and Heal the Hood is an example of activists’ efforts to employ hip-hop as a means of engaging youth critically about social and political issues (Haupt, Stealing Empire 158-165). Hence, despite arguments that the seeds for subcultures’ commercial co-option lie in the fact that they speak through commodities (Hebdige 95; Haupt, Stealing Empire 144–45), there is evidence of agency despite the global reach of US cultural imperialism. H. Samy Alim’s concept of translocal style communities is useful in this regard. The concept focuses on the “transportability of mobile matrices – sets of styles, aesthetics, knowledges, and ideologies that travel across localities and cross-cut modalities” (Alim 104-105). Alim makes the case for agency when he contends, “Although global style communities may indeed grow out of particular sociohistoric originating moments, or moments in which cultural agents take on the project of creating ‘an origin’ (in this case, Afrodiasporic youth in the United States in the 1970s), it is important to note that a global style community is far from a threatening, homogenizing force” (Alim 107).Drawing on Arjun Appadurai’s concepts of ethnoscapes, financescapes, ideoscapes and mediascapes, Alim argues that the “persistent dialectical interplay between the local and the global gives rise to the creative linguistic styles that are central to the formation of translocal style communities, and leads into theorizing about glocal stylizations and style as glocal distinctiveness” (Appadurai; Alim 107). His view of globalisation thus accommodates considerations of the extent to which subjects on both the local and global levels are able to exercise agency to produce new or alternative meanings and stylistic practices.Hip-Hop's Translanguaging Challenge to HegemonyJansen’s “Mix en Meng It Op” [“Mix and Blend It / Mix It Up”] offers an example of translocal style by employing translanguaging, code mixing and codeswitching practices. The song’s first verse speaks to the politics of race and language by challenging apartheid-era thinking about purity and mixing:In South Africa is ek coloured and African means black raceFace it, all mense kom van Africa in the first placeErase all trace of race and our tribal divisionEk’s siek en sat van all our land’s racist decisionsMy mission’s om te expose onse behoort aan een rasHou vas, ras is las, watch hoe ons die bubble barsPlus the mixture that mixed here is not fixed, sirStir daai potjie want ons wietie wattie mixtures wereThis illusion of race and tribe is rotten to the coreWhat’s more the lie of purity shouldn’t exist anymoreLook at Shaka Zulu, who mixed all those tribes togetherMixed conquered tribes now Amazulu foreverHave you ever considered all this mixture before?Xhosa comes from Khoe khoe, do you wanna know more?Xhosa means angry looking man in Khoe KhoeSoe hulle moet gemix het om daai clicks to employ(Emile YX? “Mix en Meng It Op”; my emphasis)[In South Africa I am coloured and African means black raceFace it, all people come from Africa in the first placeErase all trace of race and our tribal divisionI’m sick and tired of all our land’s racist decisionsMy mission’s to expose the fact that we belong top one raceHold on, race is a burden, watch as we burst the bubble Plus the mixture that mixed here is not fixed, sirStir that pot because we don’t know what the mixtures wereThis illusion of race and tribe is rotten to the coreWhat’s more the lie of purity shouldn’t exist anymoreLook at Shaka Zulu, who mixed all those tribes togetherMixed conquered tribes now Amazulu foreverHave you ever considered all this mixture before?Xhosa comes from Khoe khoe, do you wanna know more?Xhosa means angry looking man in Khoe KhoeSo they must have mixed to employ those clicks]The MC does more than codeswitch or code mix in this verse. The syntax switches from that of English to Afrikaans interchangeably and he is doing more than merely borrowing words and phrases from one language and incorporating it into the other language. In certain instances, he opts to pronounce certain English words and phrases as if they were Afrikaans (for example, “My” and “land’s”). Suresh Canagarajah explains that codeswitching was traditionally “distinguished from code mixing” because it was assumed that codeswitching required “bilingual competence” in order to “switch between [the languages] in fairly contextually appropriate ways with rhetorical and social significance”, while code mixing merely involved “borrowings which are appropriated into one’s language so that using them doesn't require bilingual competence” (Canagarajah, Translingual Practice 10). However, he argues that both of these translingual practices do not require “full or perfect competence” in the languages being mixed and that “these models of hybridity can be socially and rhetorically significant” (Canagarajah, Translingual Practice 10). However, the artist is clearly competent in both English and Afrikaans; in fact, he is also departing from the hegemonic speech varieties of English and Afrikaans in attempts to affirm black modes of speech, which have been negated during apartheid (cf. Haupt “Black Thing”).What the artist seems to be doing is closer to translanguaging, which Canagarajah defines as “the ability of multilingual speakers to shuttle between languages, treating the diverse languages that form their repertoire as an integrated system” (Canagarajah, “Codemeshing in Academic Writing” 401). The mix or blend of English and Afrikaans syntax become integrated, thereby performing the very point that Jansen makes about what he calls “the lie of purity” by asserting that the “mixture that mixed here is not fixed, sir” (Emile XY? “Mix en Meng It Op”). This approach is significant because Canagarajah points out that while research shows that translanguaging is “a naturally occurring phenomenon”, it “occurs surreptitiously behind the backs of the teachers in classes that proscribe language mixing” (Canagarajah, “Codemeshing in Academic Writing” 401). Jansen’s performance of translanguaging and challenge to notions of linguistic and racial purity should be read in relation to South Africa’s history of racial segregation during apartheid. Remixing Race/ism and Notions of PurityLegislated apartheid relied on biologically essentialist understandings of race as bounded and fixed and, hence, the categories black and white were treated as polar opposites with those classified as coloured being seen as racially mixed and, therefore, defiled – marked with the shame of miscegenation (Erasmus 16; Haupt, “Black Thing” 176-178). Apart from the negative political and economic consequences of being classified as either black or coloured by the apartheid state (Salo 363; McDonald 11), the internalisation of processes of racial interpellation was arguably damaging to the psyche of black subjects (in the broad inclusive sense) (cf. Fanon; Du Bois). The work of early hip-hop artists like Black Noise and Prophets of da City (POC) was therefore crucial to pointing to alternative modes of speech and self-conception for young people of colour – regardless of whether they self-identified as black or coloured. In the early 1990s, POC lead the way by embracing black modes of speech that employed codeswitching, code mixing and translanguaging as a precursor to the emergence of music genres, such as kwaito, which mixed urban black speech varieties with elements of house music and hip-hop. POC called their performances of Cape Flats speech varieties of English and Afrikaans gamtaal [gam language], which is an appropriation of the term gam, a reference to the curse of Ham and justifications for slavery (Adhikari 95; Haupt Stealing Empire 237). POC’s appropriation of the term gam in celebration of Cape Flats speech varieties challenge the shame attached to coloured identity and the linguistic practices of subjects classified as coloured. On a track called “Gamtaal” off Phunk Phlow, the crew samples an assortment of recordings from Cape Flats speech communities and capture ordinary people speaking in public and domestic spaces (Prophets of da City “Gamtaal”). In one audio snippet we hear an older woman saying apologetically, “Onse praatie suiwer Afrikaan nie. Onse praat kombius Afrikaans” (Prophets of da City “Gamtaal”).It is this shame for black modes of speech that POC challenges on this celebratory track and Jansen takes this further by both making an argument against notions of racial and linguistic purity and performing an example of translanguaging. This is important in light of research that suggests that dominant research on the creole history of Afrikaans – specifically, the Cape Muslim contribution to Afrikaans – has been overlooked (Davids 15). This oversight effectively amounted to cultural appropriation as the construction of Afrikaans as a ‘pure’ language with Dutch origins served the Afrikaner Nationalist project when the National Party came into power in 1948 and began to justify its plans to implement legislated apartheid. POC’s act of appropriating the denigrated term gamtaal in service of a Black Consciousness-inspired affirmation of colouredness, which they position as part of the black experience, thus points to alternative ways in which people of colour cand both express and define themselves in defiance of apartheid.Jansen’s work with the hip-hop theater project Afrikaaps reconceptualised gamtaal as Afrikaaps, a combination of the term Afrikaans and Kaaps. Kaaps means from the Cape – as in Cape Town (the city) or the Cape Flats, which is where many people classified as coloured were forcibly relocated under the Group Areas Act under apartheid (cf. McDonald; Salo; Alim and Haupt). Taking its cue from POC and Brasse vannie Kaap’s Mr FAT, who asserted that “gamtaal is legal” (Haupt, “Black Thing” 176), the Afrikaaps cast sang, “Afrikaaps is legal” (Afrikaaps). Conclusion: Agency and the Transportability of Mobile MatricesJansen pursues this line of thought by contending that the construction of Shaka Zulu’s kingdom involved mixing many tribes (Emile YX? “Mix en Meng It Op”), thereby alluding to arguments that narratives about Shaka Zulu were developed in service of Zulu nationalism to construct Zulu identity as bounded and fixed (Harries 105). Such constructions were essential to the apartheid state's justifications for establishing Bantustans, separate homelands established along the lines of clearly defined and differentiated ethnic identities (Harries 105). Writing about the use of myths and symbols during apartheid, Patrick Harries argues that in Kwazulu, “the governing Inkatha Freedom Party ... created a vivid and sophisticated vision of the Zulu past” (Harries 105). Likewise, Emile YX? contends that isiXhosa’s clicks come from the Khoi (Emile YX? “Mix en Meng It Op”; Afrikaaps). Hence, the idea of the Khoi San’s lineage and history as being separate from that of other African communities in Southern Africa is challenged. He thus challenges the idea of pure Zulu or Xhosa identities and drives the point home by sampling traditional Zulu music, as opposed to conventional hip-hop beats.Effectively, colonial strategies of tribalisation as a divide and rule strategy through the reification of linguistic and cultural practices are challenged, thereby reminding us of the “transportability of mobile matrices” and “fluidity of identities” (Alim 104, 105). In short, identities as well as cultural and linguistic practices were never bounded and static, but always-already hybrid, being constantly made and remade in a series of negotiations. This perspective is in line with research that demonstrates that race is socially and politically constructed and discredits biologically essentialist understandings of race (Yudell 13-14; Tattersall and De Salle 3). This is not to ignore the asymmetrical relations of power that enable cultural appropriation and racism (Hart 138), be it in the context of legislated apartheid, colonialism or in the age of corporate globalisation or Empire (cf. Haupt, Static; Hardt & Negri). But, even here, as Alim suggests, one should not underestimate the agency of subjects on the local level to produce alternative forms of expression and self-representation.ReferencesAdhikari, Mohamed. "The Sons of Ham: Slavery and the Making of Coloured Identity." South African Historical Journal 27.1 (1992): 95-112.Alim, H. Samy “Translocal Style Communities: Hip Hop Youth as Cultural Theorists of Style, Language and Globalization”. Pragmatics 19.1 (2009):103-127. Alim, H. Samy, and Adam Haupt. “Reviving Soul(s): Hip Hop as Culturally Sustaining Pedagogy in the U.S. & South Africa”. Culturally Sustaining Pedagogies: Teaching and Learning for Educational Justice. Ed. Django Paris and H. Samy Alim. New York: Teachers College Press, Columbia University, 2017 (forthcoming). Appadurai, Arjun. Modernity at Large: Cultural Dimensions of Modernity. London: University of Minnesota Press, 1996.Canagarajah, Suresh. Translingual Practice: Global Englishes and Cosmopolitan Relations. London & New York: Routledge, 2013.Canagarajah, Suresh. “Codemeshing in Academic Writing: Identifying Teachable Strategies of Translanguaging”. The Modern Language Journal 95.3 (2011): 401-417.Creese, Angela, and Adrian Blackledge. “Translanguaging in the Bilingual Classroom: A Pedagogy for Learning and Teaching?” The Modern Language Journal 94.1 (2010): 103-115. Davids, Achmat. The Afrikaans of the Cape Muslims. Pretoria: Protea Book House, 2011.Du Bois, W.E.B. The Souls of Black Folk. Journal of Pan African Studies, 1963, 2009 (eBook).Erasmus, Zimitri. “Introduction.” Coloured by History, Shaped by Place. Ed. Zimitri Erasmus. Cape Town: Kwela Books & SA History Online, 2001.Fanon, Frantz. “The Fact of Blackness”. Black Skins, White Masks. London: Pluto Press: London, 1986. 48 Hours. “Black Noise to Perform at Kennedy Center in the USA”. 11 Mar. 2014. <http://48hours.co.za/2014/03/11/black-noise-to-perform-at-kennedy-center-in-the-usa/>. Haupt, Adam. Static: Race & Representation in Post-Apartheid Music, Media & Film. Cape Town: HSRC Press, 2012.———. Stealing Empire: P2P, Intellectual Property and Hip-Hop Subversion. Cape Town: HSRC Press, 2008. ———. “Black Thing: Hip-Hop Nationalism, ‘Race’ and Gender in Prophets of da City and Brasse vannie Kaap.” Coloured by History, Shaped by Place. Ed. Zimitri Erasmus. Cape Town: Kwela Books & SA History Online, 2001.Hardt, Michael and Antonio Negri. Empire. London & Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 2000.Hart, J. “Translating and Resisting Empire: Cultural Appropriation and Postcolonial Studies”. Borrowed Power: Essays on Cultural Appropriation. Eds. B. Ziff and P.V. Roa. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1997.Harries, Patrick. “Imagery, Symbolism and Tradition in a South African Bantustan: Mangosuthu Buthelezi, Inkatha, and Zulu History”. History and Theory 32.4, Beiheft 32: History Making in Africa (1993): 105-125. Hebdige, Dick. Subculture: The Meaning of Style. London: Routledge, 1979.MacDonald, Michael. Why Race Matters in South Africa. University of Kwazulu-Natal Press: Scottsville, 2006.Salo, Elaine. “Negotiating Gender and Personhood in the New South Africa: Adolescent Women and Gangsters in Manenberg Township on the Cape Flats.” Journal of European Cultural Studies 6.3 (2003): 345–65.Tattersall, Ian, and Rob De Salle. Race? Debunking a Scientific Myth. College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 2011.TheatreAfrikaaps. Afrikaaps. The Glasshouse, 2011.FilmsValley, Dylan, dir. Afrikaaps. Plexus Films, 2010. MusicProphets of da City. “Gamtaal.” Phunk Phlow. South Africa: Ku Shu Shu, 1995.Prophets of da City. “Cape Crusader.” Ghetto Code. South Africa: Ku Shu Shu & Ghetto Ruff, 1997.YX?, Emile. “Mix En Meng It Op.” Take Our Power Back. Cape Town: Cape Flats Uprising Records, 2015.

South Africa is the country of many cultures and many religions. This diversity had not created or led to significant internal strife, especially after 1994 when South Africa entered the era of democracy from the shackles of colonialism and apartheid. The previous regimes marginalised cultures as tools of unity, but preferred to use them as tools of separation, segregation, and isolation. This context calls for some dialogue between theology and cultures within South African multi-cultural and multi-religious context. Social divisions perpetuate discrimination based on culture and religion. The scope of this article is to demonstrate that when theology and culture have a dialogue with each other, an understanding of each other is heightened and harmony becomes inevitable. Through literature on history, sociology, theology, and current events, the hypothesis was made that there is a gap between culture and theology. This has created divisions in societies. Conclusions are based on theological findings that when dialogue is used, people of different cultures and religions come to understand each other. Dialogue is a biblical and theological tool to unite diverse people. It brings mutual understanding and promote cooperation and coexistence. South Africa can be a united diversified society living in peace if dialogue is given a chance. As much as there can be understanding and acceptance of people of other cultures and religions, there can be some resistance due to the historical legacy of separateness and societal isolation. Openness to others and dialoguing with them, however, breaks down walls of hostility.Contribution: This article demonstrates the importance of theo-cultural interaction within a multi-cultural and multi-religious society. It points out the importance of the theology of dialogue engaging culture and theology to build a harmonious coexistence in a diverse society such as South Africa.

The African continent is associated with a variety of problems. Irrespective of having achieved a new democracy more than two decades ago, South Africa still seems to suffer the same fate as the rest of the continent because of the inability to solve its innate challenges. However, at grass roots level South Africans are desperately seeking ways of moving away from this problem-focused paradigm to a more constructive and assertive paradigm where South Africans can truly be reconciled as a ‘rainbow nation’ despite the different cultures. Scholars who have written about this intercultural challenge are of the opinion that intercultural hermeneutics no longer works with a split between Christ and culture, but rather with the interconnectedness between Christ and culture, without the sacrifice of the culture’s uniqueness. One cannot understand religion, faith and spirituality without understanding culture. This article investigates the church’s responsibility to provide pastoral care to the people of South Africa within an intercultural paradigm by using different symbols and metaphors. The research question concentrates on the interconnectedness of the Christian faith and the different cultures in South Africa. It examines how a pastoral approach, using symbols and metaphors, could contribute to the avoidance of the mere ‘Christianisation’ of the culture, resulting in an approach where Christ is the authentic transformer of culture.

The influence of religious and cultural diversity on the moral orientation of the current South African society:� A challenge for the church This article takes into account the morality crisis in South Africa against the background of the rich diversity in the country. It deals with the question whether religious and cultural diversity in particular contributes to moral decay in the community. Different peoples do not only have different experiences of life, but also different value systems on account of their different backgrounds and belief systems. They are the products of diverse influences which bring about different identities and moral orientations. On the one hand this can lead to conflict in societies. On the other hand, diversity in terms of religion and culture enriches societies. Much depends on how these differences are managed. Identity and leadership be regarded as two of the most important elements in the makeup of a prosperous society, especially when it comes to the factor of morality. Diversity demonstrates a great deal of dynamics in itself. It progressively develops new forms as people live actively amidst new circumstances and relationships. As the church is a central player in the field of building moral values, the church has the obligation to re-organise itself in terms of traditional diversity as well as the current contemporary religious and cultural experience.

Until 1996 the practice of traditional healers was outlawed in South Africa and not afforded a legal position in the community of health care providers. In 1978 the World Health Organization (WHO) identified traditional healers as those people forming an essential core of primary health care workers for rural people in the Third World Countries. However in 1994 the new South African government identified traditional healers as forming an essential element of primary health care workers. It is estimated that 80% of the black population uses traditional medicine because it is deeply rooted in their culture, which is linked to their religion. The traditional healer shares with the patient a world view which is completely alien to biomedical personnel. Therapeutic techniques typically used in traditional healing conflict with the therapeutic techniques used in biomedicine. The patients’ perceptions of traditional healing, their needs and expectations, may be the driving force behind their continuous persistence to consult a traditional healer, even after these patients may have sought the therapeutic techniques of biomedical personnel. The operation of both systems in the same society creates a problem to both providers and recipients of health care. Confusion then arises and the consumer consequently chooses the services closer to her. The researcher aimed at investigating the characteristics of the relationship between the traditional healers and the patients, explored the therapeutic techniques that are used in the South Sotho traditional healing process, and investigated the views of both the traditional healers and the patients about the South -Sotho traditional healing process, to facilitate incorporation of the traditional healers in the National Health Care Delivery System. A qualitative research design was followed. Participants were identified by means of a non-probable, purposive voluntary sample. Data was collected by means of a video camera and semi-structured interviews with the six traditional healers and twelve patients, as well as by taking field notes after each session. Data analysis was achieved by means of using a checklist for the video recordings, and decoding was done for the interviews. A co-coder and the researcher analysed the data independently, after which three consensus discussions took place to finalise the analysed data. The researcher made conclusions, identified shortcomings, and made recommendations for application to nursing education, nursing research and nursing practice. The recommendations for nursing practice are reflected in the form of guidelines for the incorporation of the traditional healers in the National Health Care Delivery System.

I There is a new whiteness in South Africa. The Vryheidsfront Plus is critical to this whiteness. A predominantly Afrikaner political party with few seats in the national parliament, the Vryheidsfront Plus (“Freedom Front Plus” or “VF+”) uses technology—in particular, the Internet and the Front’s website—to construct a particular brand of post-apartheid whiteness. It must be pointed out, however, that this power to harness new technology in formal politics is limited to major political parties and organisations—black and white—but not to a populist organisation like the radically redistributionist Landless People Movement. After all, South Africa is, in 2006, a nation where only five percent of the population—”harnessing” that fifteenth century technology, “movable type”—can afford to regularly purchase books for anything more than academic study. VF+ politicos, using new technology available to some but not to others, actually create a politics centred around racial “cyborgs”—“cybernetic organisms”. Technologies giving rise to the VF+’s racial cyborgs bring about a race and racism dynamic and hybrid enough to make race and racism appear to nimbly change form. Technologies, like the Internet, not only allow the Vryheidsfront Plus to construct a post-apartheid whiteness in which whites are a beleaguered minority, technology enables the VF+ to construct a post-apartheid state led by black supremacists. So, as the VF+ uses technology, whiteness looks like the new blackness, privilege comes across as the new disadvantage, and multiracial democracy seems to be the new apartheid. Cyborg qualities marking the Vryheidsfront Plus’ race and racism can be interestingly situated next to Donna Haraway’s “cyborg”. Haraway imagines a cyborg freeing human bodies from modern supremacies. This freedom arrives, according to Haraway, because cyborg existence deconstructs binaries (e. g., white-black, masculine-feminine, heterosexual-homosexual) fundamental to the old racism, patriarchy, and heterosexism, as well as old strategies deployed to fight these supremacies. Or, as Haraway’s post-embodiment manifesto reads, the cyborg replacing the old modernist body “is about transgressed boundaries, potent fusions and dangerous possibilities which progressive people might explore as one part of political work” (154). The VF+ cyborgs, though, are not quite Haraway’s superheroes. Unlike Haraway’s cyborg forging socialist transformation, VF+ cyborgs facilitate the “freeing” of an “oppressed” minority still enjoying apartheid privileges. Critiques of Haraway, as offered by Lisa Nakamura, for example, seem apt. Specifically, according to Nakamura, “cybertypes” emerge online, not anything like freedom, not anything “which progressive people might explore”. Nakamura’s “cybertypes”—a technologically inflected version of “stereotypes”—exist as new modernist tools used by whites in order to make sense of and to rewrite post-conditions (e. g., post-apartheid) in which the preeminence of whiteness and white privilege are questioned (3-4). II The Vryheidsfront Plus’s arrival on the South African political scene materialised as the Front “cybertyped” itself, and others. The party—online for users to access worldwide—traced Afrikaner whiteness to the arrival of South Africa’s first Dutch settlers in 1652 making Afrikaners “Africans”, not “settlers”. “The struggle over the past centuries was a struggle for freedom, liberty, self-determination and independence in our own Republic”, as the Front constructed Afrikaners and their history, 1652 to the present. This was a struggle against British colonial “conquest”. Afrikaners fleetingly won their struggle, according to the Front’s online history, with the declaration of two Afrikaner republics in the mid-nineteenth century, only to see freedom disappear after the South African War, 1899-1902, also known as the Anglo-Boer War. Afrikaners suffered during the War; according to the Front’s website, nearly 28,000 (22,000 children under 16) Afrikaners died in concentration camps run by the British (“Historical Background” 1-3). Apartheid as state policy was intended to reestablish Afrikaner autonomy, and freedom. In its e-newsletters as well as in other online documents, an Afrikaner political party like the VF+ had to reinvent itself as a racial minority in a multiracial and democratic South Africa. So, VF+ members declared their desire “to establish a fair and legitimate dispensation for Afrikaners in South Africa” in which language and cultural rights would be guaranteed. The electronically-posted manifesto of the VF+ culminated when the authors stated the ultimate desire of the VF+: “To attain freedom for the Afrikaner in a territory of his own”. Articulating their desire, Front leaders called for an Afrikaner “homeland” (their term) which would be more than the pseudo-states created during apartheid. VF+ leaders went so far as to present a hypertext link to a map demarcating boundaries of an Afrikaner “homeland” which, unlike the black “homelands” chiseled out by the apartheid state, would include prime coastline, fertile farmland, and significant mineral wealth (“Policy of the Freedom Front”). VF+’s construction of Afrikaners as multicultural advocates of a new apartness was intriguing, given the transnational history of whiteness, and the history of Afrikaner whiteness in particular. Accessing VF+ multiculturalism proved as easy as pointing and clicking through the multilingual VF+ website. (The site is in Afrikaans with, after a click of a mouse on the VF+ homepage, English, French, Russian, Setswana, Spanish, Zulu and German translations.) The current leader of the VF+, Pieter Mulder, used the text of a 2003 parliamentary speech posted on the VF+ website to brandish VF+ multiculturalism. Mulder pointedly asked whether or not diversity is a “curse” or a “blessing”. He concluded that it is a “blessing”. But the VF+ “blessing”, as understood by Mulder, went beyond the “Westminster and British political models” also advocated, according to Mulder, by the post-apartheid state. Mulder contended that British citizenship ideals “tend to simplify politics to individual citizens that must be moulded into a nation”. “I am not only an individual but I am also part of a community”, said Mulder. Against British ideals, Mulder presented a position that, he argued, dismissed Britain’s “simplistic solutions” because British ideals “always ignore diversity, ignore communities and try to assimilate instead of to accommodate” (Mulder, “President’s Budget Vote Debate”). In this vein, Pieter Mulder, made use of technology to post a passionate 2005 speech—downloadable and streamable to MP3—on freedom and hate after apartheid. Mulder, echoing a sentiment made potent during the anti-apartheid struggle, rhetorically asked whether South Africa belonged to all who live in it. Mulder’s answer was “no” because whites do not equally share in post-apartheid freedoms. Black racist hate directed at whites caused this inequality to foment, according to Mulder. Black racist hate, especially in the form of hate speech but also in the form of affirmative action, preceded the normalisation of black threats towards Afrikaners as well as the murders of Afrikaner farmers and their families, according to Mulder. Hate persisted, according to Mulder, because of the racist speech of some ANC leaders. Yet, Mulder asserted, “Whites are accused of racism while blacks can do no wrong”. Quoting an ANC Youth League official, Mulder said, ‘“When a black person says he does not like white people, that is not racism; that is prejudice. Blacks have no capacity to be racist; they can only respond to it”’. Mulder pointedly asked whether threats to South African Indians and the murder of rural whites was “prejudice, or racism” (Mulder, “Listen to Pieter Mulder”). III VF+ politicking, here, is problematic. On the one hand, Front leaders use their webbed discourse to express an outlook underestimating social and economic disparities underlying black-on-white violence in rural areas. Specifically, VF+ representatives deny material disparities separating blacks and whites, blame negative black perceptions of whites largely on the rhetoric of the ANC leadership, fail to acknowledge that there is white-on-black violence in rural areas and misrepresent the relationship between the pace of land redistribution and rural violence. On the other hand, though, the murder of whites in rural areas and on farms in particular is not a myth, and it impinges on the right of a minority to be free. This makes it possible, and necessary, to make some observations about freedom, hate, and fronts after apartheid. Freedom is constructed just as its meaning is contested. And technology doesn’t make freedom inevitable; technology makes freedom even less clear and certain. Like freedom, whiteness and Nakamura’s “cybertypes”, after apartheid, are neither clear, certain, nor guaranteed. References Campbell, John Edward. Getting It On Online: Cyberspace, Gay Male Sexuality, and Embodied Identity. New York: Harrington Park Press, 2004. Featherstone, Michael, and Roger Burrows, eds. Cyberspace/Cyberbodies/Cyberpunk: Cultures of Technological Embodiment. London: Sage, 1995. Gunkel, David J. “Virtually Transcendent: Cyberculture and the Body”. Journal of Mass Media Ethics 13.2 (1998): 111-23. Haraway, Donna. “A Cyborg Manifesto: Science, Technology, and Socialist Feminism in the Late Twentieth Century”. Simians, Cyborgs and Women: The Reinvention of Nature. New York: Routledge, 1991. 149-81. Hardey, Michael. “Life beyond the Screen: Embodiment and Identity through the Internet”. Sociological Review 50.4 (2002): 570-85. “Historical Background”. http://www.vryheidsfront.co.za/index.asp>. Click “History”. Click “Afrikaner History”. Kolko, Beth E., et al., eds. Race in Cyberspace. New York: Routledge, 2000. Mulder, Pieter. “President’s Budget Vote Debate.” 18 June 2003. http://www.vryheidsfront.co.za/index.asp>. Click “Speeches”. ———. 16 February 2005. “Listen to Pieter Mulder.” http://www.vryheidsfront.co.za/index.asp>. Nakamura, Lisa. Cybertypes: Race, Ethnicity, and Identity on the Internet. New York: Routledge, 1991. Lin, Dennis C. “Sissies Online: Taiwanese Male Queers Performing Sissinesses in Cyberspaces 1.” Inter-Asia Cultural Studies 7.2 (2006): 270-88. O’Farrell, Mary Ann, and Lynne Vallone, eds. Virtual Gender: Fantasies of Subjectivity and Embodiment. Ann Arbor: U of Michigan P, 1999. “Policy of the Freedom Front”. http://www.vryheidsfront.co.za/index.asp>. Click “FF-Policy”. Sandoval, Chela. “New Science: Cyborg Feminism and the Methodology of the Oppressed”. The Cyborg Handbook. Ed. Chris Habels Grey. London: Routledge, 1995. 407-22. Sundén, Jenny. Material Virtualities: Approaching Online Textual Embodiment. New York: Peter Lang, 2003. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Rivers, Patrick Lynn. "Freedom, Hate, Fronts: Whiteness and Internet Politics in Post-Apartheid South Africa." M/C Journal 9.4 (2006). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0609/2-rivers.php>. APA Style Rivers, P. (Sep. 2006) "Freedom, Hate, Fronts: Whiteness and Internet Politics in Post-Apartheid South Africa," M/C Journal, 9(4). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0609/2-rivers.php>.

Introduction The genealogy of Feminist Standpoint Theory in the 1970s prioritised “locationality”, particularly the recognition of social and historical locations as valuable contribution to knowledge production. Pioneering figures such as Sandra Harding, Dorothy Smith, Patricia Hill Collins, Alison Jaggar, and Donna Haraway have argued that the oppressed must have some means (such as language, cultural practices) to enter the world of the oppressor in order to access some understanding of how the world works from the privileged perspective. In the essay “Meeting at the Edge of Fear: Theory on a World Scale”, the Australian social scientist Raewyn Connell explains that the production of feminist theory almost always comes from the global North. Connell critiques the hegemony of mainstream Northern feminism in her pyramidal model (59), showing how theory/knowledge is produced at the apex (global North) of a pyramid structure and “trickles down” (59) to the global South. Connell refers to a second model called mosaic epistemology which shows that multiple feminist ideologies across global North/South are juxtaposed against each other like tiles, with each specific culture making its own claims to validity.However, Nigerian feminist Bibi Bakare-Yusuf’s reflection on the fluidity of culture in her essay “Fabricating Identities” (5) suggests that fixing knowledge as Northern and Southern—disparate, discrete, and rigidly structured tiles—is also problematic. Connell proposes a third model called solidarity-based epistemology which involves mutual learning and critiquing with a focus on solidarity across differences. However, this is impractical in implementation especially given that feminist nomenclature relies on problematic terms such as “international”, “global North/South”, “transnational”, and “planetary” to categorise difference, spatiality, and temporality, often creating more distance than reciprocal exchange. Geographical specificity can be too limiting, but we also need to acknowledge that it is geographical locationality which becomes disadvantageous to overcome racial, cultural, and gender biases — and here are few examples.Nomenclatures: Global-North and Global South ParadigmThe global North/South terminology differentiating the two regions according to means of trade and relative wealth emerged from the Brandt Report’s delineation of the North as wealthy and South as impoverished in 1980s. Initially, these terms were a welcome repudiation of the hierarchical nomenclature of “developed” and “developing” nations. Nevertheless, the categories of North and South are problematic because of increased socio-economic heterogeneity causing erasure of local specificities without reflecting microscopic conflicts among feminists within the global North and the global South. Some feminist terms such as “Third World feminism” (Narayan), “global feminism” (Morgan), or “local feminisms” (Basu) aim to centre women's movements originating outside the West or in the postcolonial context, other labels attempt to making feminism more inclusive or reflective of cross-border linkages. These include “transnational feminism” (Grewal and Kaplan) and “feminism without borders” (Mohanty). In the 1980s, Kimberlé Williams Crenshaw’s concept of intersectionality garnered attention in the US along with Gloria Anzaldúa’s Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza (1987), which raised feminists’ awareness of educational, healthcare, and financial disparities among women and the experiences of marginalised people across the globe, leading to an interrogation of the aims and purposes of mainstream feminism. In general, global North feminism refers to white middle class feminist movements further expanded by concerns about civil rights and contemporary queer theory while global South feminism focusses on decolonisation, economic justice, and disarmament. However, the history of colonialism demonstrates that this paradigm is inadequate because the oppression and marginalisation of Black, Indigenous, and Queer activists have been avoided purposely in the homogenous models of women’s oppression depicted by white radical and liberal feminists. A poignant example is from Audre Lorde’s personal account:I wheeled my two-year-old daughter in a shopping cart through a supermarket in Eastchester in 1967, and a little white girl riding past in her mother’s cart calls out excitedly, ‘oh look, Mommy, a baby maid!’ And your mother shushes you, but does not correct you, and so fifteen years later, at a conference on racism, you can still find that story humorous. But I hear your laughter is full of terror and disease. (Lorde)This exemplifies how the terminology global North/South is a problem because there are inequities within the North that are parallel to the division of power and resources between North and South. Additionally, Susan Friedman in Planetary Modernisms observes that although the terms “Global North” and “Global South” are “rhetorically spatial” they are “as geographically imprecise and ideologically weighted as East/West” because “Global North” signifies “modern global hegemony” and “Global South” signifies the “subaltern, … —a binary construction that continues to place the West at the controlling centre of the plot” (Friedman, 123).Focussing on research-activism debate among US feminists, Sondra Hale takes another tack, emphasising that feminism in the global South is more pragmatic than the theory-oriented feminist discourse of the North (Hale). Just as the research-scholarship binary implies myopic assumption that scholarship is a privileged activity, Hale’s observations reveal a reductive assumption in the global North and global South nomenclature that feminism at the margins is theoretically inadequate. In other words, recognising the “North” as the site of theoretical processing is a euphemism for Northern feminists’ intellectual supremacy and the inferiority of Southern feminist praxis. To wit, theories emanating from the South are often overlooked or rejected outright for not aligning with Eurocentric framings of knowledge production, thereby limiting the scope of feminist theories to those that originate in the North. For example, while discussing Indigenous women’s craft-autobiography, the standard feminist approach is to apply Susan Sontag’s theory of gender and photography to these artefacts even though it may not be applicable given the different cultural, social, and class contexts in which they are produced. Consequently, Moroccan feminist Fatima Mernissi’s Islamic methodology (Mernissi), the discourse of land rights, gender equality, kinship, and rituals found in Bina Agarwal’s A Field of One’s Own, Marcia Langton’s “Grandmothers’ Law”, and the reflection on military intervention are missing from Northern feminist theoretical discussions. Moreover, “outsiders within” feminist scholars fit into Western feminist canonical requirements by publishing their works in leading Western journals or seeking higher degrees from Western institutions. In the process, Northern feminists’ intellectual hegemony is normalised and regularised. An example of the wealth of the materials outside of mainstream Western feminist theories may be found in the work of Girindrasekhar Bose, a contemporary of Sigmund Freud, founder of the Indian Psychoanalytic Society and author of the book Concept of Repression (1921). Bose developed the “vagina envy theory” long before the neo-Freudian psychiatrist Karen Horney proposed it, but it is largely unknown in the West. Bose’s article “The Genesis and Adjustment of the Oedipus Wish” discarded Freud’s theory of castration and explained how in the Indian cultural context, men can cherish an unconscious desire to bear a child and to be castrated, implicitly overturning Freud’s correlative theory of “penis envy.” Indeed, the case of India shows that the birth of theory can be traced back to as early as eighth century when study of verbal ornamentation and literary semantics based on the notion of dbvani or suggestion, and the aesthetic theory of rasa or "sentiment" is developed. If theory means systematic reasoning and conceptualising the structure of thought, methods, and epistemology, it exists in all cultures but unfortunately non-Western theory is largely invisible in classroom courses.In the recent book Queer Activism in India, Naisargi Dev shows that the theory is rooted in activism. Similarly, in her essay “Seed and Earth”, Leela Dube reveals how Eastern theories are distorted as they are Westernised. For instance, the “Purusha-Prakriti” concept in Hinduism where Purusha stands for pure consciousness and Prakriti stands for the entire phenomenal world is almost universally misinterpreted in terms of Western binary oppositions as masculine consciousness and feminine creative principle which has led to disastrous consequences including the legitimisation of male control over female sexuality. Dube argues how heteropatriarchy has twisted the Purusha-Prakriti philosophy to frame the reproductive metaphor of the male seed germinating in the female field for the advantage of patrilineal agrarian economies and to influence a homology between reproductive metaphors and cultural and institutional sexism (Dube 22-24). Attempting to reverse such distortions, ecofeminist Vandana Shiva rejects dualistic and exploitative “contemporary Western views of nature” (37) and employs the original Prakriti-Purusha cosmology to construct feminist vision and environmental ethics. Shiva argues that unlike Cartesian binaries where nature or Prakriti is inert and passive, in Hindu Philosophy, Purusha and Prakriti are inseparable and inviolable (Shiva 37-39). She refers to Kalika Purana where it is explained how rivers and mountains have a dual nature. “A river is a form of water, yet is has a distinct body … . We cannot know, when looking at a lifeless shell, that it contains a living being. Similarly, within the apparently inanimate rivers and mountains there dwells a hidden consciousness. Rivers and mountains take the forms they wish” (38).Scholars on the periphery who never migrated to the North find it difficult to achieve international audiences unless they colonise themselves, steeping their work in concepts and methods recognised by Western institutions and mimicking the style and format that western feminist journals follow. The best remedy for this would be to interpret border relations and economic flow between countries and across time through the prism of gender and race, an idea similar to what Sarah Radcliffe, Nina Laurie and Robert Andolina have called the “transnationalization of gender” (160).Migration between Global North and Global SouthReformulation of feminist epistemology might reasonably begin with a focus on migration and gender politics because international and interregional migration have played a crucial role in the production of feminist theories. While some white mainstream feminists acknowledge the long history of feminist imperialism, they need to be more assertive in centralising non-Western theories, scholarship, and institutions in order to resist economic inequalities and racist, patriarchal global hierarchies of military and organisational power. But these possibilities are stymied by migrants’ “de-skilling”, which maintains unequal power dynamics: when migrants move from the global South to global North, many end up in jobs for which they are overqualified because of their cultural, educational, racial, or religious alterity.In the face of a global trend of movement from South to North in search of a “better life”, visual artist Naiza Khan chose to return to Pakistan after spending her childhood in Lebanon before being trained at the University of Oxford. Living in Karachi over twenty years, Khan travels globally, researching, delivering lectures, and holding exhibitions on her art work. Auj Khan’s essay “Peripheries of Thought and Practise in Naiza Khan’s Work” argues: “Khan seems to be going through a perpetual diaspora within an ownership of her hybridity, without having really left any of her abodes. This agitated space of modern hybrid existence is a rich and ripe ground for resolution and understanding. This multiple consciousness is an edge for anyone in that space, which could be effectively made use of to establish new ground”. Naiza Khan’s works embrace loss or nostalgia and a sense of choice and autonomy within the context of unrestricted liminal geographical boundaries.Early work such as “Chastity Belt,” “Heavenly Ornaments”, “Dream”, and “The Skin She Wears” deal with the female body though Khan resists the “feminist artist” category, essentially because of limited Western associations and on account of her paradoxical, diasporic subjectivity: of “the self and the non-self, the doable and the undoable and the anxiety of possibility and choice” (Khan Webpage). Instead, Khan theorises “gender” as “personal sexuality”. The symbolic elements in her work such as corsets, skirts, and slips, though apparently Western, are purposely destabilised as she engages in re-constructing the cartography of the body in search of personal space. In “The Wardrobe”, Khan establishes a path for expressing women’s power that Western feminism barely acknowledges. Responding to the 2007 Islamabad Lal Masjid siege by militants, Khan reveals the power of the burqa to protect Muslim men by disguising their gender and sexuality; women escape the Orientalist gaze. For Khan, home is where her art is—beyond the global North and South dichotomy.In another example of de-centring Western feminist theory, the Indian-British sitar player Anoushka Shankar, who identifies as a radical pro-feminist, in her recent musical album “Land of Gold” produces what Chilla Bulbeck calls “braiding at the borderlands”. As a humanitarian response to the trauma of displacement and the plight of refugees, Shankar focusses on women giving birth during migration and the trauma of being unable to provide stability and security to their children. Grounded in maternal humility, Shankar’s album, composed by artists of diverse background as Akram Khan, singer Alev Lenz, and poet Pavana Reddy, attempts to dissolve boundaries in the midst of chaos—the dislocation, vulnerability and uncertainty experienced by migrants. The album is “a bit of this, and a bit of that” (borrowing Salman Rushdie’s definition of migration in Satanic Verses), both in terms of musical genre and cultural identities, which evokes emotion and subjective fluidity. An encouraging example of truly transnational feminist ethics, Shankar’s album reveals the chasm between global North and global South represented in the tension of a nascent friendship between a white, Western little girl and a migrant refugee child. Unlike mainstream feminism, where migration is often sympathetically feminised and exotified—or, to paraphrase bell hooks, difference is commodified (hooks 373) — Shankar’s album simultaneously exhibits regional, national, and transnational elements. The album inhabits multiple borderlands through musical genres, literature and politics, orality and text, and ethnographic and intercultural encounters. The message is: “the body is a continent / But may your heart always remain the sea" (Shankar). The human rights advocate and lawyer Randa Abdel-Fattah, in her autobiographical novel Does My Head Look Big in This?, depicts herself as “colourful adjectives” (such as “darkies”, “towel-heads”, or the “salami eaters”), painful identities imposed on her for being a Muslim woman of colour. These ultimately empower her to embrace her identity as a Palestinian-Egyptian-Australian Muslim writer (Abdel-Fattah 359). In the process, Abdel-Fattah reveals how mainstream feminism participates in her marginalisation: “You’re constantly made to feel as you’re commenting as a Muslim, and somehow your views are a little bit inferior or you’re somehow a little bit more brainwashed” (Abdel-Fattah, interviewed in 2015).With her parental roots in the global South (Egyptian mother and Palestinian father), Abdel-Fattah was born and brought up in the global North, Australia (although geographically located in global South, Australia is categorised as global North for being above the world average GDP per capita) where she embraced her faith and religious identity apparently because of Islamophobia:I refuse to be an apologist, to minimise this appalling state of affairs… While I'm sick to death, as a Muslim woman, of the hypocrisy and nonsensical fatwas, I confess that I'm also tired of white women who think the answer is flashing a bit of breast so that those "poor," "infantilised" Muslim women can be "rescued" by the "enlightened" West - as if freedom was the sole preserve of secular feminists. (Abdel-Fattah, "Ending Oppression")Abdel-Fattah’s residency in the global North while advocating for justice and equality for Muslim women in both the global North and South is a classic example of the mutual dependency between the feminists in global North and global South, and the need to recognise and resist neoliberal policies applied in by the North to the South. In her novel, sixteen-year-old Amal Mohamed chooses to become a “full-time” hijab wearer in an elite school in Melbourne just after the 9/11 tragedy, the Bali bombings which killed 88 Australians, and the threat by Algerian-born Abdel Nacer Benbrika, who planned to attack popular places in Sydney and Melbourne. In such turmoil, Amal’s decision to wear the hijab amounts to more than resistance to Islamophobia: it is a passionate search for the true meaning of Islam, an attempt to embrace her hybridity as an Australian Muslim girl and above all a step towards seeking spiritual self-fulfilment. As the novel depicts Amal’s challenging journey amidst discouraging and painful, humiliating experiences, the socially constructed “bloody confusing identity hyphens” collapse (5). What remains is the beautiful veil that stands for Amal’s multi-valence subjectivity. The different shades of her hijab reflect different moods and multiple “selves” which are variously tentative, rebellious, romantic, argumentative, spiritual, and ambitious: “I am experiencing a new identity, a new expression of who I am on the inside” (25).In Griffith Review, Randa-Abdel Fattah strongly criticises the book Nine Parts of Desire by Geraldine Brooks, a Wall-Street Journal reporter who travelled from global North to the South to cover Muslim women in the Middle East. Recognising the liberal feminist’s desire to explore the Orient, Randa-Abdel calls the book an example of feminist Orientalism because of the author’s inability to understand the nuanced diversity in the Muslim world, Muslim women’s purposeful downplay of agency, and, most importantly, Brooks’s inevitable veil fetishism in her trip to Gaza and lack of interest in human rights violations of Palestinian women or their lack of access to education and health services. Though Brooks travelled from Australia to the Middle East, she failed to develop partnerships with the women she met and distanced herself from them. This underscores the veracity of Amal’s observation in Abdel Fattah’s novel: “It’s mainly the migrants in my life who have inspired me to understand what it means to be an Aussie” (340). It also suggests that the transnational feminist ethic lies not in the global North and global South paradigm but in the fluidity of migration between and among cultures rather than geographical boundaries and military borders. All this argues that across the imperial cartography of discrimination and oppression, women’s solidarity is only possible through intercultural and syncretistic negotiation that respects the individual and the community.ReferencesAbdel-Fattah, Randa. Does My Head Look Big in This? Sydney: Pan MacMillan Australia, 2005.———. “Ending Oppression in the Middle East: A Muslim Feminist Call to Arms.” ABC Religion and Ethics, 29 April 2013. <http://www.abc.net.au/religion/articles/2013/04/29/3747543.htm>.———. “On ‘Nine Parts Of Desire’, by Geraldine Brooks.” Griffith Review. <https://griffithreview.com/on-nine-parts-of-desire-by-geraldine-brooks/>.Agarwal, Bina. A Field of One’s Own: Gender and Land Rights in South Asia. 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Introduction In any list of dictators and antagonists of the West the name of Libya’s Colonel Muammar Qaddafi will always rank highly as one of the most memorable, colourful and mercurial. The roles he played to his fellow Libyans, to regional groupings, to revolutionaries and to the West were complex and nuanced. These various roles developed over time but were all grounded in his self-belief as a messianic revolutionary figure. More importantly, these roles and behaviours that stemmed from them were instrumental in preserving Qaddafi’s rule and thwarting challenges to it. These facets of Qaddafi’s public self accord with the model of “persona” described by Marshall. Whilst the nature of political persona and celebrity in the Western world has been explored by several scholars (for example Street; Wilson), little work has been conducted on the use of persona by non-democratic leaders. This paper examines the aspects of persona exhibited by Colonel Qaddafi and applied during his tenure. In constructing his role as a revolutionary leader, Qaddafi was engaging in a form of public performance aimed at delivering himself to a wider audience. Whether at home or abroad, this persona served the purpose of helping the Libyan leader consolidate his power, stymie political opposition and export his revolutionary ideals. The trajectory of his persona begins in the early days of his coming to power as a charismatic leader during a “time of distress” (Weber) and culminates in his bloody end next to a roadside drainage culvert. In between these points Qaddafi’s persona underwent refinement and reinvention. Coupled with the legacy he left on the Libyan political system, the journey of Muammar Qaddafi’s personas demonstrate how political personality can be the salvation or damnation of an entire state.Qaddafi: The Brotherly RevolutionaryCaptain Muammar Qaddafi came to power in Libya in 1969 at the age of just 27. He was the leader of a group of military officers who overthrew King Idris in a popular and relatively bloodless coup founded on an ideology of post-colonial Arab nationalism and a doing away with the endemic corruption and nepotism that were the hallmarks of the monarchy. With this revolutionary cause in mind and in an early indication that he recognised the power of political image, Qaddafi showed restraint in adopting the trappings of office. His modest promotion to the rank of Colonel was an obvious example of this, and despite the fact that in practical terms he was the supreme commander of Libya’s armed forces, he resisted the temptation to formally aggrandize himself with military titles for the ensuing 42 years of his rule.High military rank was in a way irrelevant to a man moving to change his persona from army officer to messianic national leader. Switching away from a reliance on military hierarchy as a basis for his authority allowed Qaddafi to re-cast himself as a leader with a broader mission. He began to utilise titles such as “Chairman of the Revolutionary Command Council” (RCC) and “Brotherly Leader and Guide of the Revolution.” The persona on display here was one of detached impartiality and almost reluctant leadership. There was the suggestion that Qaddafi was not really acting as a head of state, but merely an ordinary Libyan who, through popular acclaim, was being begged to lead his people. The attraction of this persona remained until the bitter end for Qaddafi, with his professed inability to step aside from a leadership role he insisted he did not formally occupy. This accords with the contention of Weber, who describes how an individual favoured with charisma can step forward at a time of crisis to complete a “mission.” Once in a position of authority, perpetuating that role of leadership and acclamation can become the mission itself:The holder, of charisma seizes the task that is adequate for him and demands obedience and a following by virtue of his mission. His success determines whether he finds them. His charismatic claim breaks down if his mission is not recognized by those to whom he feels he has been sent. If they recognize him, he is their master—so long as he knows how to maintain recognition through ‘proving’ himself. But he does not derive his ‘right’ from their will, in the manner of an election. Rather, the reverse holds: it is the duty of those to whom he addresses his mission to recognize him as their charismatically qualified leader. (Weber 266-7)As his rule extended across the decades, Qaddafi fostered his revolutionary credentials via a typical cult of personality approach. His image appeared on everything from postage stamps to watches, bags, posters and billboards. Quotations from the Brother Leader were set to music and broadcast as pop songs. “Spontaneous” rallies of support would occur when crowds of loyalists would congregate to hear the Brotherly Leader speak. Although Qaddafi publicly claimed he did not like this level of public adoration he accepted it because the people wanted to adore him. It was widely known however that many of these crowds were paid to attend these rallies (Blundy and Lycett 16).Qaddafi: The Philosopher In developing his persona as a guide and a man who was sharing his natural gifts with the people, Qaddafi developed a post-colonial philosophy he called “Third Universal Theory.” This was published in volumes collectively known as The Green Book. This was mandatory reading for every Libyan and contained a distillation of Qaddafi’s thoughts and opinions on everything from sports to politics to religion to the differences between men and women. Whilst it may be tempting for outsiders to dismiss these writings as the scribbling of a dictator, the legacy of Qaddafi’s persona as political philosopher is worthy of some examination. For in offering his revelations to the Libyan people, Qaddafi extended his mandate beyond leader of a revolution and into the territory of “messianic reformer of a nation.”The Green Book was a three-part series. The first instalment was written in 1975 and focuses on the “problem of democracy” where Qaddafi proposes direct democracy as the best option for a progressive nation. The second instalment, published in 1977, focuses on economics and expounds socialism as the solution to all fiscal woes. (Direct popular action here was evidenced in the RCC making rental of real estate illegal, meaning that all tenants in the country suddenly found themselves granted ownership of the property they were occupying!) The final chapter, published in 1981, proposes the Third Universal Theory where Qaddafi outlines his unique solution for implementing direct democracy and socialism. Qaddafi coined a new term for his Islamically-inspired socialist utopia: Jamahiriya. This was defined as being a “state of the masses” and formed the blueprint for Libyan society which Qaddafi subsequently imposed.This model of direct democracy was part of the charismatic conceit Qaddafi cultivated: that the Libyan people were their own leaders and his role was merely as a benevolent agent acceding to their wishes. However the implementation of the Jamahiriya was anything but benevolent and its legacy has crippled post-Qaddafi Libya. Under this system, Libyans did have some control over their affairs at a very local level. Beyond this, an increasingly complex series of committees and regional groupings, over which the RCC had the right of veto, diluted the participation of ordinary citizens and their ability to coalesce around any individual leader. The banning of standard avenues of political organisation, such as parties and unions, coupled with a ruthless police state that detained and executed anyone offering even a hint of political dissent served to snuff out any opposition before it had a chance to gather pace. The result was that there were no Libyans with enough leadership experience or public profile to take over when Qaddafi was ousted in 2011.Qaddafi: The Liberator In a further plank of his revolutionary persona Qaddafi turned to the world beyond Libya to offer his brotherly guidance. This saw him champion any cause that claimed to be a liberation or resistance movement struggling against the shackles of colonialism. He tended to favour groups that had ideologies aligned with his own, namely Arab unity and the elimination of Israel, but ultimately was not consistent in this regard. Aside from Palestinian nationalists, financial support was offered to groups such as the Provisional Irish Republican Army, the Moro National Liberation Front (Philippines), Umkhonto we Sizwe (South Africa), ETA (Spain), the Polisario Front (Western Sahara), and even separatist indigenous Australians. This policy of backing revolutionary groups was certainly a projection of his persona as a charismatic enabler of the revolutionary mission. However, the reception of this mission in the wider world formed the basis for the image that Qaddafi most commonly occupied in Western eyes.In 1979 the ongoing Libyan support for groups pursuing violent action against Israel and the West saw the country designated a State-Sponsor of Terror by the US Department of State. Diplomatic relations between the two nations were severed and did not resume until 2004. At this point Qaddafi seemed to adopt a persona of “opponent of the West,” ostensibly on behalf of the world’s downtrodden colonial peoples. The support for revolutionary groups was changing to a more active use of them to strike at Western interests. At the same time Qaddafi stepped up his rhetoric against America and Britain, positioning himself as a champion of the Arab world, as the one leader who had the courage of his convictions and the only one who was squarely on the side of the ordinary citizenry (in contrast to other, more compliant Arab rulers). Here again there is evidence of the charismatic revolutionary persona, reluctantly taking up the burden of leadership on behalf of his brothers.Whatever his ideals, the result was that Qaddafi and his state became the focus of increasing Western ire. A series of incidents between the US and Libya in international waters added to the friction, as did Libyan orchestrated terror attacks in Berlin, Rome and Vienna. At the height of this tension in 1986, American aircraft bombed targets in Libya, narrowly missing Qaddafi himself. This role as public enemy of America led to Qaddafi being characterised by President Ronald Reagan (no stranger to the use of persona himself) as the “mad dog of the Middle East” and a “squalid criminal.” The enmity of the West made life difficult for ordinary Libyans dealing with crippling sanctions, but for Qaddafi, it helped bolster his persona as a committed revolutionary.Qaddafi: Leader of the Arab and African Worlds Related to his early revolutionary ideologies were Qaddafi’s aspirations as a pan-national leader. Inspired by Egypt’s Gamel Abdul Nasser from a young age, the ideals of pan-Arab unity were always a cornerstone of Qaddafi’s beliefs. It is not therefore surprising that he developed ambitions of being the person to bring about and “guide” that unity. Once again the Weberian description of the charismatic leader is relevant, particularly the notion that such leadership does not respect conventional boundaries of functional jurisdictions or local bailiwicks; in this case, state boundaries.During the 1970s Qaddafi was involved in numerous attempts to broker Arab unions between Libya and states such as Egypt, Syria and Tunisia. All of these failed to materialise once the exact details of the mergers began to be discussed, in particular who would assume the mantle of leadership in these super-states. In line with his persona as the rightly-guided revolutionary, Qaddafi consistently blamed the failure of these unions on the other parties, souring his relationship with his fellow Arab leaders. His hardline stance on Israel also put him at odds with those peers more determined to find a compromise. Following the assassination of Egypt’s Anwar Sadat in 1981 Qaddafi praised the act as justified because of Sadat’s signing of the Camp David Accords with Israel.Having given up on the hope of achieving pan-Arab Unity, Qaddafi sought to position himself as a leader of the African bloc. In 2009 he became Chairperson of the African Union and took to having himself introduced as “The King of Kings of Africa.” The level of dysfunction of the African Union was no less than that of the Arab League and Qaddafi’s grandiose plans for becoming the President of the United States of Africa failed to materialise.In both his pan-Arab and pan-Africa ambitions, we see a persona of Qaddafi that aims at leadership beyond his own state. Whilst there may be delusions of grandeur apparent in the practicalities of these goals, this image was nevertheless something that Qaddafi used to leverage the next phase of his political transformation.Qaddafi: The Post-9/11 Statesman However much he might be seen as erratic, Qaddafi’s innate intelligence could result in a political astuteness lacking in many of his Arab peers. Following the events of 11 September 2001, Qaddafi was the first international leader to condemn the attacks on America and pledge support in the War on Terror and the extermination of al-Qaeda. Despite his history as a supporter of terrorism overseas, Qaddafi had a long history of repressing it at home, just as with any other form of political opposition. The pan-Islamism of al-Qaeda was anathema to his key ideologies of direct democracy (guided by himself). This meant the United States and Libya were now finally on the same team. As part of this post-9/11 sniffing of the wind, Qaddafi abandoned his fledgling Weapons of Mass Destruction (WMD) program and finally agreed to pay reparations to the families of the victims of the Pan Am 107 flight downed over Lockerbie in 1987.This shift in Qaddafi’s policy did not altogether dispel his persona of brotherly leadership amongst African nations. As a bloc leader and an example of the possibility of ‘coming in from the cold’, Qaddafi and Libya were reintegrated into the world community. This included giving a speech at the United Nations in 2009. This event did little to add to his reputation as a statesman in the West. Given a 15-minute slot, the Libyan leader delivered a rambling address over 90 minutes long, which included him tearing up a copy of the UN Charter and turning his back to the audience whilst continuing to speak.Qaddafi: The Clown From the Western point of view, performances like this painted Qaddafi’s behaviour as increasingly bizarre. Particularly after Libya’s rapprochement with the West, the label of threatening terrorist supporter faded and was replaced with something along the lines of a harmless clown prince. Tales of the Libyan leader’s coterie of virgin female bodyguards were the subject of ridicule, as was his ardour for US Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice. Perhaps this behaviour was indicative of a leader increasingly divorced from reality. Surrounded by sycophants dependent on his regard for their tenure or physical survival, as well as Western leaders eager to contrast his amiability with that of Saddam Hussein, nobody was prepared to draw attention to the emperor’s new clothes.Indeed, elaborate and outlandish clothing played an increasing role in Qaddafi’s persona as the decades went on. His simple revolutionary fatigues of the early years were superseded by a vast array of military uniforms heavily decorated with medals and emblems; traditional African, Arab or Bedouin robes depending on the occasion; and in later years a penchant for outfits that included images of the African continent or pictures of dead martyrs. (In 2009 Vanity Fair did a tongue-in-cheek article on the fashion of Colonel Qaddafi entitled Dictator Chic: Colonel Qaddafi—A Life in Fashion. This spawned a number of similar features including one in TIME Magazine entitled Gaddafi Fashion: The Emperor Had Some Crazy Clothes.)The Bedouin theme was an aspect of persona that Qaddafi cultivated as an ascetic “man of the people” throughout his leadership. Despite having many palaces available he habitually slept in an elaborate tent, according once again with Weber’s description of the charismatic leader as one who eschews methodical material gain. This predisposition served him well in the 1986 United States bombing, when his residence in a military barracks was demolished, but Qaddafi escaped unscathed as he was in his tent at the time. He regularly entertained foreign dignitaries in tents when they visited Libya and he took one when travelling abroad, including pitching it in the gardens of a Parisian hotel during a state visit in 2007. (A request to camp in New York’s Central Park for his UN visit in 2009 was denied; “Inside the Tents of Muammar Gaddafi”).The role of such a clown was unlikely to have been an aim for Qaddafi, but was instead the product of his own increasing isolation. It will likely be his most enduring character in the Western memory of his rule. It should be noted though that clowns and fools do not maintain an iron grip on power for over 40 years.The Legacy of Qaddafi’s Many Personas Colonel Muammar Qaddafi was a clever and complex leader who exhibited many variations of persona during his four decades of rule. These personas were generally facets of the same core self-belief of a charismatic leader, but could be conflicting, and often confusing, to observers. His eccentricities often hid a layer of deeper cunning and ambition, but ultimately led to his marginalisation and an impression by world leaders that he was untrustworthy.His erratic performance at the UN in 2009 perhaps typifies the end stages of Qaddafi’s leadership: a man increasingly disconnected from his people and the realities of what was going on around him. His insistence that the 2011 Libyan revolution was variously a colonial or terrorist inspired piece of theatre belied the deep resentment of his rule. His role as opponent of the Western and Arab worlds alike meant that he was unsupported in his attempts to deal with the uprising. Indeed, the West’s rapid willingness to use their airpower was instrumental in speeding on the rebel forces.What cannot be disputed is the chaotic legacy this charismatic figure left for his country. Since the uprising climaxed in his on-camera lynching in October 2011, Libya has been plunged in to turmoil and shows no signs of this abating. One of the central reasons for this chaos is that Qaddafi’s supremacy, his political philosophies, and his use of messianic persona left Libya completely unprepared for rule by any other party.This ensuing chaos has been a cruel, if ironic, proof of Qaddafi’s own conceit: Libya could not survive without him.References Al-Gathafi, Muammar. The Green Book: The Solution to the Problem of Democracy; The Solution to the Economic Problem; The Social Basis of the Third Universal Theory. UK: Ithaca Press, 2005.Blundy, David, and Andrew Lycett. Qaddafi and the Libyan Revolution. Boston and Toronto: Little Brown & Co, 1987.Marshall, P. David. “Persona Studies: Mapping the Proliferation of the Public Self”. Journalism 15.2 (2014): 153-170.Qaddafi, Muammar. Speech at the United Nations 2009. ‹http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BKMyY2V0J0Y›. Street, John. “Celebrity Politicians: Popular Culture and Political Representation.” British Journal of Politics and International Relations 6 (2004): 435-52.Street, John. “Do Celebrity Politics and Celebrity Politicians Matter?” The British Journal of Politics & International Relations 14.3 (2012): 346-356.TIME Magazine. “Gaddafi Fashion: The Emperor Had Some Crazy Clothes.” ‹http://content.time.com/time/photogallery/0,29307,2055860,00.html›.TIME Magazine. “Inside the Tents of Muammar Gaddafi.” ‹http://content.time.com/time/photogallery/0,29307,2058074,00.html›.Totman, Sally, and Mat Hardy. “In the Green Zone: 40 years with Colonel Qaddafi.” Ed. Geoffrey Hawker. APSA 2009: Proceedings of the APSA Annual Conference 2009. Sydney: Macquarie University, 2009. 1-19.Totman, Sally, and Mat Hardy. “The Rise and Decline of Libya as a Rogue State.” OCIS 2008: Oceanic Conference on International Studies. Brisbane: University of Queensland, 2008. 1-25.Vanity Fair. “Dictator Chic: Colonel Qaddafi—A Life in Fashion.” ‹http://www.vanityfair.com/politics/features/2009/08/qaddafi-slideshow200908›.Weber, Max, Hans Heinrich Gerth, and C. Wright Mills. From Max Weber: Essays in Sociology. London: Routledge, 2009.Wilson, J. “Kevin Rudd, Celebrity and Audience Democracy in Australia.” Journalism 15.2 (2013): 202-217.

All history of this area and the general talk and all of that is that 1973 was a turning point and the Aquarius Festival is credited with having turned this region around in so many ways, but I think that is a myth ... and I have to honour the truth; and the truth is that old Dicke Donelly came and did a Welcome to Country the night before the festival. (Joseph in Joseph and Hanley)In 1973 the Australian Union of Students (AUS) held the Aquarius Arts and Lifestyle Festival in a small, rural New South Wales town called Nimbin. The festival was seen as the peak expression of Australian counterculture and is attributed to creating the “Rainbow Region”, an area with a concentration of alternative life stylers in Northern NSW (Derrett 28). While the Aquarius Festival is recognised as a founding historical and countercultural event, the unique and important relationships established with Indigenous people at this time are generally less well known. This article 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” (Joseph and Hanley). The diverse international, national and local conditions that coalesced at the Aquarius Festival suggest a fertile environment was created for reconciliatory bonds to develop. Often dismissed as a “tree hugging, soap dodging movement,” the counterculture was radically politicised having sprung from the 1960s social revolutions when the world witnessed mass demonstrations that confronted war, racism, sexism and capitalism. Primarily a youth movement, it was characterised by flamboyant dress, music, drugs and mass gatherings with universities forming the epicentre and white, middle class youth leading the charge. As their ideals of changing the world were frustrated by lack of systematic change, many decided to disengage and a migration to rural settings occurred (Jacob; Munro-Clarke; Newton). In the search for alternatives, the counterculture assimilated many spiritual practices, such as Eastern traditions and mysticism, which were previously obscure to the Western world. This practice of spiritual syncretism can be represented as a direct resistance to the hegemony of the dominant Western culture (Stell). As the new counterculture developed, its progression from urban to rural settings was driven by philosophies imbued with a desire to reconnect with and protect the natural world while simultaneously rejecting the dominant conservative order. A recurring feature of this countercultural ‘back to the land’ migration was not only an empathetic awareness of the injustices of colonial past, but also a genuine desire to learn from the Indigenous people of the land. Indigenous people were generally perceived as genuine opposers of Westernisation, inherently spiritual, ecological, tribal and communal, thus encompassing the primary values to which the counterculture was aspiring (Smith). Cultures converged. One, a youth culture rebelling from its parent culture; the other, ancient cultures reeling from the historical conquest by the youths’ own ancestors. Such cultural intersections are rich with complex scenarios and politics. As a result, often naïve, but well-intended relations were established with Native Americans, various South American Indigenous peoples, New Zealand Maori and, as this article demonstrates, the Original People of Australia (Smith; Newton; Barr-Melej; Zolov). The 1960s protest era fostered the formation of groups aiming to address a variety of issues, and at times many supported each other. Jennifer Clarke says it was the Civil Rights movement that provided the first models of dissent by formulating a “method, ideology and language of protest” as African Americans stood up and shouted prior to other movements (2). The issue of racial empowerment was not lost on Australia’s Indigenous population. Clarke writes that during the 1960s, encouraged by events overseas and buoyed by national organisation, Aborigines “slowly embarked on a political awakening, demanded freedom from the trappings of colonialism and responded to the effects of oppression at worst and neglect at best” (4). Activism of the 1960s had the “profoundly productive effect of providing Aborigines with the confidence to assert their racial identity” (159). Many Indigenous youth were compelled by the zeitgeist to address their people’s issues, fulfilling Charlie Perkins’s intentions of inspiring in Indigenous peoples a will to resist (Perkins). Enjoying new freedoms of movement out of missions, due to the 1967 Constitutional change and the practical implementation of the assimilation policy, up to 32,000 Indigenous youth moved to Redfern, Sydney between 1967 and 1972 (Foley, “An Evening With”). Gary Foley reports that a dynamic new Black Power Movement emerged but the important difference between this new younger group and the older Indigenous leaders of the day was the diverse range of contemporary influences. Taking its mantra from the Black Panther movement in America, though having more in common with the equivalent Native American Red Power movement, the Black Power Movement acknowledged many other international struggles for independence as equally inspiring (Foley, “An Evening”). People joined together for grassroots resistance, formed anti-hierarchical collectives and established solidarities between varied groups who previously would have had little to do with each other. The 1973 Aquarius Festival was directly aligned with “back to the land” philosophies. The intention was to provide a place and a reason for gathering to “facilitate exchanges on survival techniques” and to experience “living in harmony with the natural environment.” without being destructive to the land (Dunstan, “A Survival Festival”). Early documents in the archives, however, reveal no apparent interest in Australia’s Indigenous people, referring more to “silken Arabian tents, mediaeval banners, circus, jugglers and clowns, peace pipes, maypole and magic circles” (Dunstan, “A Survival Festival”). Obliterated from the social landscape and minimally referred to in the Australian education system, Indigenous people were “off the radar” to the majority mindset, and the Australian counterculture similarly was slow to appreciate Indigenous culture. Like mainstream Australia, the local counterculture movement largely perceived the “race” issue as something occurring in other countries, igniting the phrase “in your own backyard” which became a catchcry of Indigenous activists (Foley, “Whiteness and Blackness”) With no mention of any Indigenous interest, it seems likely that the decision to engage grew from the emerging climate of Indigenous activism in Australia. Frustrated by student protestors who seemed oblivious to local racial issues, focusing instead on popular international injustices, Indigenous activists accused them of hypocrisy. Aquarius Festival directors, found themselves open to similar accusations when public announcements elicited a range of responses. Once committed to the location of Nimbin, directors Graeme Dunstan and Johnny Allen began a tour of Australian universities to promote the upcoming event. While at the annual conference of AUS in January 1973 at Monash University, Dunstan met Indigenous activist Gary Foley: Gary witnessed the presentation of Johnny Allen and myself at the Aquarius Foundation session and our jubilation that we had agreement from the village residents to not only allow, but also to collaborate in the production of the Festival. After our presentation which won unanimous support, it was Gary who confronted me with the question “have you asked permission from local Aboriginal folk?” This threw me into confusion because we had seen no Aboriginals in Nimbin. (Dunstan, e-mail) Such a challenge came at a time when the historical climate was etched with political activism, not only within the student movement, but more importantly with Indigenous activists’ recent demonstrations, such as the installation in 1972 of the Tent Embassy in Canberra. As representatives of the counterculture movement, which was characterised by its inclinations towards consciousness-raising, AUS organisers were ethically obliged to respond appropriately to the questions about Indigenous permission and involvement in the Aquarius Festival at Nimbin. In addition to this political pressure, organisers in Nimbin began hearing stories of the area being cursed or taboo for women. This most likely originated from the tradition of Nimbin Rocks, a rocky outcrop one kilometre from Nimbin, as a place where only certain men could go. Jennifer Hoff explains that many major rock formations were immensely sacred places and were treated with great caution and respect. Only a few Elders and custodians could visit these places and many such locations were also forbidden for women. Ceremonies were conducted at places like Nimbin Rocks to ensure the wellbeing of all tribespeople. Stories of the Nimbin curse began to spread and most likely captivated a counterculture interested in mysticism. As organisers had hoped that news of the festival would spread on the “lips of the counterculture,” they were alarmed to hear how “fast the bad news of this curse was travelling” (Dunstan, e-mail). A diplomatic issue escalated with further challenges from the Black Power community when organisers discovered that word had spread to Sydney’s Indigenous community in Redfern. Organisers faced a hostile reaction to their alleged cultural insensitivity and were plagued by negative publicity with accusations the AUS were “violating sacred ground” (Janice Newton 62). Faced with such bad press, Dunstan was determined to repair what was becoming a public relations disaster. It seemed once prompted to the path, a sense of moral responsibility prevailed amongst the organisers and they took the unprecedented step of reaching out to Australia’s Indigenous people. Dunstan claimed that an expedition was made to the local Woodenbong mission to consult with Elder, Uncle Lyle Roberts. To connect with local people required crossing the great social divide present in that era of Australia’s history. Amy Nethery described how from the nineteenth century to the 1960s, a “system of reserves, missions and other institutions isolated, confined and controlled Aboriginal people” (9). She explains that the people were incarcerated as a solution to perceived social problems. For Foley, “the widespread genocidal activity of early “settlement” gave way to a policy of containment” (Foley, “Australia and the Holocaust”). Conditions on missions were notoriously bad with alcoholism, extreme poverty, violence, serious health issues and depression common. Of particular concern to mission administrators was the perceived need to keep Indigenous people separate from the non-indigenous population. Dunstan described the mission he visited as having “bad vibes.” He found it difficult to communicate with the elderly man, and was not sure if he understood Dunstan’s quest, as his “responses came as disjointed raves about Jesus and saving grace” (Dunstan, e-mail). Uncle Lyle, he claimed, did not respond affirmatively or negatively to the suggestion that Nimbin was cursed, and so Dunstan left assuming it was not true. Other organisers began to believe the curse and worried that female festival goers might get sick or worse, die. This interpretation reflected, as Vanessa Bible argues, a general Eurocentric misunderstanding of the relationship of Indigenous peoples with the land. Paul Joseph admits they were naïve whites coming into a place with very little understanding, “we didn’t know if we needed a witch doctor or what we needed but we knew we needed something from the Aborigines to lift the spell!”(Joseph and Hanley). Joseph, one of the first “hippies” who moved to the area, had joined forces with AUS organisers. He said, “it just felt right” to get Indigenous involvement and recounted how organisers made another trip to Woodenbong Mission to find Dickee (Richard) Donnelly, a Song Man, who was very happy to be invited. Whether the curse was valid or not it proved to be productive in further instigating respectful action. Perhaps feeling out of their depth, the organisers initiated another strategy to engage with Australian Indigenous people. A call out was sent through the AUS network to diversify the cultural input and it was recommended they engage the services of South African artist, Bauxhau Stone. Timing aligned well as in 1972 Australia had voted in a new Prime Minister, Gough Whitlam. Whitlam brought about significant political changes, many in response to socialist protests that left a buoyancy in the air for the counterculturalist movement. He made prodigious political changes in support of Indigenous people, including creating the Aboriginal Arts Board as part of the Australian Council of the Arts (ACA). As the ACA were already funding activities for the Aquarius Festival, organisers were successful in gaining two additional grants specifically for Indigenous participation (Farnham). As a result We were able to hire […] representatives, a couple of Kalahari bushmen. ‘Cause we were so dumb, we didn’t think we could speak to the black people, you know what I mean, we thought we would be rejected, or whatever, so for us to really reach out, we needed somebody black to go and talk to them, or so we thought, and it was remarkable. This one Bau, a remarkable fellow really, great artist, great character, he went all over Australia. He went to Pitjantjatjara, Yirrkala and we arranged buses and tents when they got here. We had a very large contingent of Aboriginal people come to the Aquarius Festival, thanks to Whitlam. (Joseph in Joseph and Henley) It was under the aegis of these government grants that Bauxhau Stone conducted his work. Stone embodied a nexus of contemporary issues. Acutely aware of the international movement for racial equality and its relevance to Australia, where conditions were “really appalling”, Stone set out to transform Australian race relations by engaging with the alternative arts movement (Stone). While his white Australian contemporaries may have been unaccustomed to dealing with the Indigenous racial issue, Stone was actively engaged and thus well suited to act as a cultural envoy for the Aquarius Festival. He visited several local missions, inviting people to attend and notifying them of ceremonies being conducted by respected Elders. Nimbin was then the site of the Aquarius Lifestyle and Celebration Festival, a two week gathering of alternative cultures, technologies and youth. It innovatively demonstrated its diversity of influences, attracted people from all over the world and was the first time that the general public really witnessed Australia’s counterculture (Derrett 224). As markers of cultural life, counterculture festivals of the 1960s and 1970s were as iconic as the era itself and many around the world drew on the unique Indigenous heritage of their settings in some form or another (Partridge; Perone; Broadley and Jones; Zolov). The social phenomenon of coming together to experience, celebrate and foster a sense of unity was triggered by protests, music and a simple, yet deep desire to reconnect with each other. Festivals provided an environment where the negative social pressures of race, gender, class and mores (such as clothes) were suspended and held the potential “for personal and social transformation” (St John 167). With the expressed intent to “take matters into our own hands” and try to develop alternative, innovative ways of doing things with collective participation, the Aquarius Festival thus became an optimal space for reinvigorating ancient and Indigenous ways (Dunstan, “A Survival Festival”). With philosophies that venerated collectivism, tribalism, connecting with the earth, and the use of ritual, the Indigenous presence at the Aquarius Festival gave attendees the opportunity to experience these values. To connect authentically with Nimbin’s landscape, forming bonds with the Traditional Owners was essential. Participants were very fortunate to have the presence of the last known initiated men of the area, Uncle Lyle Roberts and Uncle Dickee Donnely. These Elders represented the last vestiges of an ancient culture and conducted innovative ceremonies, song, teachings and created a sacred fire for the new youth they encountered in their land. They welcomed the young people and were very happy for their presence, believing it represented a revolutionary shift (Wedd; King; John Roberts; Cecil Roberts). Images 1 and 2: Ceremony and talks conducted at the Aquarius Festival (people unknown). Photographs reproduced by permission of photographer and festival attendee Paul White. The festival thus provided an important platform for the regeneration of cultural and spiritual practices. John Roberts, nephew of Uncle Lyle, recalled being surprised by the reaction of festival participants to his uncle: “He was happy and then he started to sing. And my God … I couldn’t get near him! There was this big ring of hippies around him. They were about twenty deep!” Sharing to an enthusiastic, captive audience had a positive effect and gave the non-indigenous a direct Indigenous encounter (Cecil Roberts; King; Oshlak). Estimates of the number of Indigenous people in attendance vary, with the main organisers suggesting 800 to 1000 and participants suggesting 200 to 400 (Stone; Wedd; Oshlak: Joseph; King; Cecil Roberts). As the Festival lasted over a two week period, many came and left within that time and estimates are at best reliant on memory, engagement and perspectives. With an estimated total attendance at the Festival between 5000 and 10,000, either number of Indigenous attendees is symbolic and a significant symbolic statistic for Indigenous and non-indigenous to be together on mutual ground in Australia in 1973. Images 3-5: Performers from Yirrkala Dance Group, brought to the festival by Stone with funding from the Federal Government. Photographs reproduced by permission of photographer and festival attendee Dr Ian Cameron. For Indigenous people, the event provided an important occasion to reconnect with their own people, to share their culture with enthusiastic recipients, as well as the chance to experience diverse aspects of the counterculture. Though the northern NSW region has a history of diverse cultural migration of Italian and Indian families, the majority of non-indigenous and Indigenous people had limited interaction with cosmopolitan influences (Kijas 20). Thus Nimbin was a conservative region and many Christianised Indigenous people were also conservative in their outlook. The Aquarius Festival changed that as the Indigenous people experienced the wide-ranging cultural elements of the alternative movement. The festival epitomised countercultural tendencies towards flamboyant fashion and hairstyles, architectural design, fantastical art, circus performance, Asian clothes and religious products, vegetarian food and nudity. Exposure to this bohemian culture would have surely led to “mind expansion and consciousness raising,” explicit aims adhered to by the movement (Roszak). Performers and participants from Africa, America and India also gave attending Indigenous Australians the opportunity to interact with non-European cultures. Many people interviewed for this paper indicated that Indigenous people’s reception of this festival experience was joyous. For Australia’s early counterculture, interest in Indigenous Australia was limited and for organisers of the AUS Aquarius Festival, it was not originally on the agenda. The counterculture in the USA and New Zealand had already started to engage with their Indigenous people some years earlier. However due to the Aquarius Festival’s origins in the student movement and its solidarities with the international Indigenous activist movement, they were forced to shift their priorities. The coincidental selection of a significant spiritual location at Nimbin to hold the festival brought up additional challenges and countercultural intrigue with mystical powers and a desire to connect authentically to the land, further prompted action. Essentially, it was the voices of empowered Indigenous activists, like Gary Foley, which in fact triggered the reaching out to Indigenous involvement. While the counterculture organisers were ultimately receptive and did act with unprecedented respect, credit must be given to Indigenous activists. The activist’s role is to trigger action and challenge thinking and in this case, it was ultimately productive. Therefore the Indigenous people were not merely passive recipients of beneficiary goodwill, but active instigators of appropriate cultural exchange. After the 1973 festival many attendees decided to stay in Nimbin to purchase land collectively and a community was born. Relationships established with local Indigenous people developed further. Upon visiting Nimbin now, one will see a vibrant visual display of Indigenous and psychedelic themed art, a central park with an open fire tended by local custodians and other Indigenous community members, an Aboriginal Centre whose rent is paid for by local shopkeepers, and various expressions of a fusion of counterculture and Indigenous art, music and dance. While it appears that reconciliation became the aspiration for mainstream society in the 1990s, Nimbin’s early counterculture history had Indigenous reconciliation at its very foundation. The efforts made by organisers of the 1973 Aquarius Festival stand as one of very few examples in Australian history where non-indigenous Australians have respectfully sought to learn from Indigenous people and to assimilate their cultural practices. It also stands as an example for the world, of reconciliation, based on hippie ideals of peace and love. They encouraged the hippies moving up here, even when they came out for Aquarius, old Uncle Lyle and Richard Donnelly, they came out and they blessed the mob out here, it was like the hairy people had come back, with the Nimbin, cause the Nimbynji is the little hairy people, so the hairy people came back (Jerome). References Barr-Melej, Patrick. “Siloísmo and the Self in Allende’s Chile: Youth, 'Total Revolution,' and the Roots of the Humanist Movement.” Hispanic American Historical Review 86.4 (Nov. 2006): 747-784. Bible, Vanessa. Aquarius Rising: Terania Creek and the Australian Forest Protest Movement. BA (Honours) Thesis. University of New England, Armidale, 2010. Broadley, Colin, and Judith Jones, eds. Nambassa: A New Direction. Auckland: Reed, 1979. Bryant, Gordon M. Parliament of Australia. Minister for Aboriginal Affairs. 1 May 1973. Australian Union of Students. Records of the AUS, 1934-1991. National Library of Australia MS ACC GB 1992.0505. Cameron, Ian. “Aquarius Festival Photographs.” 1973. Clarke, Jennifer. Aborigines and Activism: Race, Aborigines and the Coming of the Sixties to Australia. Crawley: University of Western Australia Press, 2008. Derrett, Ross. Regional Festivals: Nourishing Community Resilience: The Nature and Role of Cultural Festivals in Northern Rivers NSW Communities. PhD Thesis. Southern Cross University, Lismore, 2008. Dunstan, Graeme. “A Survival Festival May 1973.” 1 Aug. 1972. Pamphlet. MS 6945/1. Nimbin Aquarius Festival Archives. National Library of Australia, Canberra. ---. E-mail to author, 11 July 2012. ---. “The Aquarius Festival.” Aquarius Rainbow Region. n.d. Farnham, Ken. Acting Executive Officer, Aboriginal Council for the Arts. 19 June 1973. Letter. MS ACC GB 1992.0505. Australian Union of Students. Records of the AUS, 1934-1991. National Library of Australia, Canberra. Foley, Gary. “Australia and the Holocaust: A Koori Perspective (1997).” The Koori History Website. n.d. 20 May 2013 ‹http://www.kooriweb.org/foley/essays/essay_8.html›. ---. “Whiteness and Blackness in the Koori Struggle for Self-Determination (1999).” The Koori History Website. n.d. 20 May 2013 ‹http://www.kooriweb.org/foley/essays/essay_9.html›. ---. “Black Power in Redfern 1968-1972 (2001).” The Koori History Website. n.d. 20 May 2013 ‹http://www.kooriweb.org/foley/essays/essay_1.html›. ---. “An Evening with Legendary Aboriginal Activist Gary Foley.” Conference Session. Marxism 2012 “Revolution in the Air”, Melbourne, Mar. 2012. Hoff, Jennifer. Bundjalung Jugun: Bundjalung Country. Lismore: Richmond River Historical Society, 2006. Jacob, Jeffrey. New Pioneers: The Back-to-the-Land Movement and the Search for a Sustainable Future. Pennsylvania: Penn State Press, 1997. Jerome, Burri. Interview. 31 July 2012. Joseph, Paul. Interview. 7 Aug. 2012. Joseph, Paul, and Brendan ‘Mookx’ Hanley. Interview by Rob Willis. 14 Aug. 2010. Audiofile, Session 2 of 3. nla.oh-vn4978025. Rob Willis Folklore Collection. National Library of Australia, Canberra. Kijas, Johanna, Caravans and Communes: Stories of Settling in the Tweed 1970s & 1980s. Murwillumbah: Tweed Shire Council, 2011. King, Vivienne (Aunty Viv). Interview. 1 Aug. 2012. Munro-Clarke, Margaret. Communes of Rural Australia: The Movement Since 1970. Sydney: Hale and Iremonger, 1986. Nethery, Amy. “Aboriginal Reserves: ‘A Modern-Day Concentration Camp’: Using History to Make Sense of Australian Immigration Detention Centres.” Does History Matter? Making and Debating Citizenship, Immigration and Refugee Policy in Australia and New Zealand. Eds. Klaus Neumann and Gwenda Tavan. Canberra: Australian National University Press, 2009. 4. Newton, Janice. “Aborigines, Tribes and the Counterculture.” Social Analysis 23 (1988): 53-71. Newton, John. The Double Rainbow: James K Baxter, Ngati Hau and the Jerusalem Commune. Wellington: Victoria University Press, 2009. Offord, Baden. “Mapping the Rainbow Region: Fields of Belonging and Sites of Confluence.” Transformations 2 (March 2002): 1-5. Oshlak, Al. Interview. 27 Mar. 2013. Partridge, Christopher. “The Spiritual and the Revolutionary: Alternative Spirituality, British Free Festivals, and the Emergence of Rave Culture.” Culture and Religion: An Interdisciplinary Journal 7 (2006): 3-5. Perkins, Charlie. “Charlie Perkins on 1965 Freedom Ride.” Youtube, 13 Oct. 2009. Perone, James E. Woodstock: An Encyclopedia of the Music and Art Fair. Greenwood: Greenwood Publishing Group, 2005. Roberts, John. Interview. 1 Aug. 2012. Roberts, Cecil. Interview. 6 Aug. 2012. Roszak, Theodore. The Making of a Counter Culture: Reflections on the Technocratic Society and Its Youthful Opposition. New York: University of California Press,1969. St John, Graham. “Going Feral: Authentica on the Edge of Australian culture.” The Australian Journal of Anthropology 8 (1997): 167-189. Smith, Sherry. Hippies, Indians and the Fight for Red Power. New York: Oxford University Press, 2012. Stell, Alex. Dancing in the Hyper-Crucible: The Rite de Passage of the Post-Rave Movement. BA (Honours) Thesis. University of Westminster, London, 2005. Stone, Trevor Bauxhau. Interview. 1 Oct. 2012. Wedd, Leila. Interview. 27 Sep. 2012. White, Paul. “Aquarius Revisited.” 1973. Zolov, Eric. Refried Elvis: The Rise of the Mexican Counterculture. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999.

Diaspora This article looks at diaspora through the transformations of an established public service broadcaster, the BBC World Service, by considering some of the findings of the AHRC-funded Tuning In: Contact Zones at the BBC World Service, which is part of the Diasporas, Migration and Identities program. Tuning In has six themes, each of which focuses upon the role of the BBC WS: The Politics of Translation, Diasporic Nationhood, Religious Transnationalism, Sport across Diasporas, Migrating Music and Drama for Development. The World Service, which was until 2011 funded by the Foreign Office, was set up to cater for the British diaspora and had the specific remit of transmitting ideas about Britishness to its audiences overseas. Tuning In demonstrates interrelationships between the global and the local in the diasporic contact zone of the BBC World Service, which has provided a mediated home for the worldwide British diaspora since its inception in 1932. The local and the global have merged, elided, and separated at different times and in different spaces in the changing story of the BBC (Briggs). The BBC WS is both local and global with activities that present Britishness both at home and abroad. The service has, however, come a long way since its early days as the Empire Service. Audiences for the World Service’s 31 foreign language services, radio, television, and Internet facilities include substantive non-British/English-speaking constituencies, rendering it a contact zone for the exploration of ideas and political opportunities on a truly transnational scale. This heterogeneous body of exilic, refugee intellectuals, writers, and artists now operates alongside an ongoing expression of Britishness in all its diverse reconfiguration. This includes the residual voice of empire and its patriarchal paternalism, the embrace of more recent expressions of neoliberalism as well as traditional values of impartiality and objectivism and, in the case of the arts, elements of bohemianism and creative innovation. The World Service might have begun as a communication system for the British ex-pat diaspora, but its role has changed along with the changing relationship between Britain and its colonial past. In the terrain of sport, for example, cricket, the “game of empire,” has shifted from Britain to the Indian subcontinent (Guha) with the rise of “Twenty 20” and the Indian Premier League (IPL); summed up in Ashis Nandy’s claim that “cricket is an Indian game accidentally discovered by the English” (Nandy viii). English county cricket dominated the airways of the World Service well into the latter half of the twentieth century, but the audiences of the service have demanded a response to social and cultural change and the service has responded. Sport can thus be seen to have offered a democratic space in which new diasporic relations can be forged as well as one in which colonial and patriarchal values are maintained. The BBC WS today is part of a network through which non-British diasporic peoples can reconnect with their home countries via the service, as well as an online forum for debate across the globe. In many regions of the world, it continues to be the single most trusted source of information at times of crisis and disaster because of its traditions of impartiality and objectivity, even though (as noted in the article on Al-Jazeera in this special issue) this view is hotly contested. The principles of objectivity and impartiality are central to the BBC WS, which may seem paradoxical since it is funded by the Commonwealth and Foreign office, and its origins lie in empire and colonial discourse. Archive material researched by our project demonstrates the specifically ideological role of what was first called the Empire Service. The language of empire was deployed in this early programming, and there is an explicit expression of an ideological purpose (Hill). For example, at the Imperial Conference in 1930, the service was supported in terms of its political powers of “strengthening ties” between parts of the empire. This view comes from a speech by John Reith, the BBC’s first Director General, which was broadcast when the service opened. In this speech, broadcasting is identified as having come to involve a “connecting and co-ordinating link between the scattered parts of the British Empire” (Reith). Local British values are transmitted across the globe. Through the service, empire and nation are reinstated through the routine broadcasting of cyclical events, the importance of which Scannell and Cardiff describe as follows: Nothing so well illustrates the noiseless manner in which the BBC became perhaps the central agent of national culture as its cyclical role; the cyclical production year in year out, of an orderly, regular progression of festivities, rituals and celebrations—major and minor, civic and sacred—that mark the unfolding of the broadcast year. (278; italics in the original) State occasions and big moments, including those directly concerned with governance and affairs of state, and those which focused upon sport and religion, were a big part in these “noiseless” cycles, and became key elements in the making of Britishness across the globe. The BBC is “noiseless” because the timetable is assumed and taken for granted as not only what is but what should be. However, the BBC WS has been and has had to be responsive to major shifts in global and local—and, indeed, glocal—power geometries that have led to spatial transformations, notably in the reconfiguration of the service in the era of postcolonialism. Some of these massive changes have involved the large-scale movement of people and a concomitant rethinking of diaspora as a concept. Empire, like nation, operates as an “imagined community,” too big to be grasped by individuals (Anderson), as well as a material actuality. The dynamics of identification are rarely linear and there are inconsistencies and disruptions: even when the voice is officially that of empire, the practice of the World Service is much more diverse, nuanced, and dialogical. The BBC WS challenges boundaries through the connectivities of communication and through different ways of belonging and, similarly, through a problematisation of concepts like attachment and detachment; this is most notable in the way in which programming has adapted to new diasporic audiences and in the reworkings of spatiality in the shift from empire to diversity via multiculturalism. There are tensions between diaspora and multiculturalism that are apparent in a discussion of broadcasting and communication networks. Diaspora has been distinguished by mobility and hybridity (Clifford, Hall, Bhaba, Gilroy) and it has been argued that the adjectival use of diasporic offers more opportunity for fluidity and transformation (Clifford). The concept of diaspora, as it has been used to explain the fluidity and mobility of diasporic identifications, can challenge more stabilised, “classic” understandings of diaspora (Chivallon). A hybrid version of diaspora might sit uneasily with a strong sense of belonging and with the idea that the broadcast media offer a multicultural space in which each voice can be heard and a wide range of cultures are present. Tuning In engaged with ways of rethinking the BBC’s relationship to diaspora in the twenty-first century in a number of ways: for example, in the intersection of discursive regimes of representation; in the status of public service broadcasting; vis-à-vis the consequences of diverse diasporic audiences; through the role of cultural intermediaries such as journalists and writers; and via global economic and political materialities (Gillespie, Webb and Baumann). Tuning In thus provided a multi-themed and methodologically diverse exploration of how the BBC WS is itself a series of spaces which are constitutive of the transformation of diasporic identifications. Exploring the part played by the BBC WS in changing and continuing social flows and networks involves, first, reconfiguring what is understood by transnationalism, diaspora, and postcolonial relationalities: in particular, attending to how these transform as well as sometimes reinstate colonial and patriarchal discourses and practices, thus bringing together different dimensions of the local and the global. Tuning In ranges across different fields, embracing cultural, social, and political areas of experience as represented in broadcasting coverage. These fields illustrate the educative role of the BBC and the World Service that is also linked to its particular version of impartiality; just as The Archers was set up to provide information and guidance through a narrative of everyday life to rural communities and farmers after the Second World War, so the Afghan version plays an “edutainment” role (Skuse) where entertainment also serves an educational, public service information role. Indeed, the use of soap opera genre such as The Archers as a vehicle for humanitarian and health information has been very successful over the past decade, with the “edutainment” genre becoming a feature of the World Service’s broadcasting in places such as Rwanda, Somalia, Nigeria, India, Nepal, Burma, Afghanistan, and Cambodia. In a genre that has been promoted by the World Service Trust, the charitable arm of the BBC WS uses drama formats to build transnational production relationships with media professionals and to strengthen creative capacities to undertake behaviour change through communication work. Such programming, which is in the tradition of the BBC WS, draws upon the service’s expertise and exhibits both an ideological commitment to progressive social intervention and a paternalist approach drawing upon colonialist legacies. Nowadays, however, the BBC WS can be considered a diasporic contact zone, providing sites of transnational intra-diasporic contact as well as cross-cultural encounters, spaces for cross-diasporic creativity and representation, and a forum for cross-cultural dialogue and potentially cosmopolitan translations (Pratt, Clifford). These activities are, however, still marked by historically forged asymmetric power relations, notably of colonialism, imperialism, and globalisation, as well as still being dominated by hegemonic masculinity in many parts of the service, which thus represent sites of contestation, conflict, and transgression. Conversely, diasporic identities are themselves co-shaped by media representations (Sreberny). The diasporic contact zone is a relational space in which diasporic identities are made and remade and contested. Tuning In employed a diverse range of methods to analyse the part played by the BBC WS in changing and continuing social and cultural flows, networks, and reconfigurations of transnationalisms and diaspora, as well as reinstating colonial, patriarchal practices. The research deconstructed some assumptions and conditions of class-based elitism, colonialism, and patriarchy through a range of strategies. Texts are, of course, central to this work, with the BBC Archives at Caversham (near Reading) representing the starting point for many researchers. The archive is a rich source of material for researchers which carries a vast range of data including fragile memos written on scraps of paper: a very local source of global communications. Other textual material occupies the less locatable cyberspace, for example in the case of Have Your Say exchanges on the Web. People also featured in the project, through the media, in cyberspace, and physical encounters, all of which demonstrate the diverse modes of connection that have been established. Researchers worked with the BBC WS in a variety of ways, not only through interviews and ethnographic approaches, such as participant observation and witness seminars, but also through exchanges between the service, its practitioners, and the researchers (for example, through broadcasts where the project provided the content and the ideas and researchers have been part of programs that have gone out on the BBC WS (Goldblatt, Webb), bringing together people who work for the BBC and Tuning In researchers). On this point, it should be remembered that Bush House is, itself, a diasporic space which, from its geographical location in the Strand in London, has brought together diasporic people from around the globe to establish international communication networks, and has thus become the focus and locus of some of our research. What we have understood by the term “diasporic space” in this context includes both the materialities of architecture and cyberspace which is the site of digital diasporas (Anderssen) and, indeed, the virtual exchanges featured on “Have Your Say,” the online feedback site (Tuning In). Living the Glocal The BBC WS offers a mode of communication and a series of networks that are spatially located both in the UK, through the material presence of Bush House, and abroad, through the diasporic communities constituting contemporary audiences. The service may have been set up to provide news and entertainment for the British diaspora abroad, but the transformation of the UK into a multi-ethnic society “at home,” alongside its commitment to, and the servicing of, no less than 32 countries abroad, demonstrates a new mission and a new balance of power. Different diasporic communities, such as multi-ethnic Londoners, and local and British Muslims in the north of England, demonstrate the dynamics and ambivalences of what is meant by “diaspora” today. For example, the BBC and the WS play an ambiguous role in the lives of UK Muslim communities with Pakistani connections, where consumers of the international news can feel that the BBC is complicit in the conflation of Muslims with terrorists. Engaging Diaspora Audiences demonstrated the diversity of audience reception in a climate of marginalisation, often bordering on moral panic, and showed how diasporic audiences often use Al-Jazeera or Pakistani and Urdu channels, which are seen to take up more sympathetic political positions. It seems, however, that more egalitarian conversations are becoming possible through the channels of the WS. The participation of local people in the BBC WS global project is seen, for example, as in the popular “Witness Seminars” that have both a current focus and one that is projected into the future, as in the case of the “2012 Generation” (that is, the young people who come of age in 2012, the year of the London Olympics). The Witness Seminars demonstrate the recuperation of past political and social events such as “Bangladesh in 1971” (Tuning In), “The Cold War seminar” (Tuning In) and “Diasporic Nationhood” (the cultural movements reiterated and recovered in the “Literary Lives” project (Gillespie, Baumann and Zinik). Indeed, the WS’s current focus on the “2012 Generation,” including an event in which 27 young people (each of whom speaks one of the WS languages) were invited to an open day at Bush House in 2009, vividly illustrates how things have changed. Whereas in 1948 (the last occasion when the Olympic Games were held in London), the world came to London, it is arguable that, in 2012, in contemporary multi-ethnic Britain, the world is already here (Webb). This enterprise has the advantage of giving voice to the present rather than filtering the present through the legacies of colonialism that remain a problem for the Witness Seminars more generally. The democratising possibilities of sport, as well as the restrictions of its globalising elements, are well represented by Tuning In (Woodward). Sport has, of course become more globalised, especially through the development of Internet and satellite technologies (Giulianotti) but it retains powerful local affiliations and identifications. At all levels and in diverse places, there are strong attachments to local and national teams that are constitutive of communities, including diasporic and multi-ethnic communities. Sport is both typical and distinctive of the BBC World Service; something that is part of a wider picture but also an area of experience with a life of its own. Our “Sport across Diasporas” project has thus explored some of the routes the World Service has travelled in its engagement with sport in order to provide some understanding of the legacy of empire and patriarchy, as well as engaging with the multiplicities of change in the reconstruction of Britishness. Here, it is important to recognise that what began as “BBC Sport” evolved into “World Service Sport.” Coverage of the world’s biggest sporting events was established through the 1930s to the 1960s in the development of the BBC WS. However, it is not only the global dimensions of sporting events that have been assumed; so too are national identifications. There is no question that the superiority of British/English sport is naturalised through its dominance of the BBC WS airways, but the possibilities of reinterpretation and re-accommodation have also been made possible. There has, indeed, been a changing place of sport in the BBC WS, which can only be understood with reference to wider changes in the relationship between broadcasting and sport, and demonstrates the powerful synchronies between social, political, technological, economic, and cultural factors, notably those that make up the media–sport–commerce nexus that drives so much of the trajectory of contemporary sport. Diasporic audiences shape the schedule as much as what is broadcast. There is no single voice of the BBC in sport. The BBC archive demonstrates a variety of narratives through the development and transformation of the World Service’s sports broadcasting. There are, however, silences: notably those involving women. Sport is still a patriarchal field. However, the imperial genealogies of sport are inextricably entwined with the social, political, and cultural changes taking place in the wider world. There is no detectable linear narrative but rather a series of tensions and contradictions that are reflected and reconfigured in the texts in which deliberations are made. In sport broadcasting, the relationship of the BBC WS with its listeners is, in many instances, genuinely dialogic: for example, through “Have Your Say” websites and internet forums, and some of the actors in these dialogic exchanges are the broadcasters themselves. The history of the BBC and the World Service is one which manifests a degree of autonomy and some spontaneity on the part of journalists and broadcasters. For example, in the case of the BBC WS African sports program, Fast Track (2009), many of the broadcasters interviewed report being able to cover material not technically within their brief; news journalists are able to engage with sporting events and sports journalists have covered social and political news (Woodward). Sometimes this is a matter of taking the initiative or simply of being in the right place at the right time, although this affords an agency to journalists which is increasingly unlikely in the twenty-first century. The Politics of Translation: Words and Music The World Service has played a key role as a cultural broker in the political arena through what could be construed as “educational broadcasting” via the wider terrain of the arts: for example, literature, drama, poetry, and music. Over the years, Bush House has been a home-from-home for poets: internationalists, translators from classical and modern languages, and bohemians; a constituency that, for all its cosmopolitanism, was predominantly white and male in the early days. For example, in the 1930s and 1940s, Louis MacNeice was commissioning editor and surrounded by a friendship network of salaried poets, such as W. H. Auden, Dylan Thomas, C. Day Lewis, and Stephen Spender, who wrote and performed their work for the WS. The foreign language departments of the BBC WS, meanwhile, hired émigrés and exiles from their countries’ educated elites to do similar work. The biannual, book-format journal Modern Poetry in Translation (MPT), which was founded in 1965 by Daniel Weissbort and Ted Hughes, included a dedication in Weissbort’s final issue (MPT 22, 2003) to “Poets at Bush House.” This volume amounts to a celebration of the BBC WS and its creative culture, which extended beyond the confines of broadcasting spaces. The reminiscences in “Poets at Bush House” suggest an institutional culture of informal connections and a fluidity of local exchanges that is resonant of the fluidity of the flows and networks of diaspora (Cheesman). Music, too, has distinctive characteristics that mark out this terrain on the broadcast schedule and in the culture of the BBC WS. Music is differentiated from language-centred genres, making it a particularly powerful medium of cross-cultural exchange. Music is portable and yet is marked by a cultural rootedness that may impede translation and interpretation. Music also carries ambiguities as a marker of status across borders, and it combines aesthetic intensity and diffuseness. The Migrating Music project demonstrated BBC WS mediation of music and identity flows (Toynbee). In the production and scheduling notes, issues of migration and diaspora are often addressed directly in the programming of music, while the movement of peoples is a leitmotif in all programs in which music is played and discussed. Music genres are mobile, diasporic, and can be constitutive of Paul Gilroy’s “Black Atlantic” (Gilroy), which foregrounds the itinerary of West African music to the Caribbean via the Middle Passage, cross-fertilising with European traditions in the Americas to produce blues and other hybrid forms, and the journey of these forms to Europe. The Migrating Music project focused upon the role of the BBC WS as narrator of the Black Atlantic story and of South Asian cross-over music, from bhangra to filmi, which can be situated among the South Asian diaspora in east and south Africa as well as the Caribbean where they now interact with reggae, calypso, Rapso, and Popso. The transversal flows of music and lyrics encompasses the lived experience of the different diasporas that are accommodated in the BBC WS schedules: for example, they keep alive the connection between the Irish “at home” and in the diaspora through programs featuring traditional music, further demonstrating the interconnections between local and global attachments as well as points of disconnection and contradiction. Textual analysis—including discourse analysis of presenters’ speech, program trailers and dialogue and the BBC’s own construction of “world music”—has revealed that the BBC WS itself performs a constitutive role in keeping alive these traditions. Music, too, has a range of emotional affects which are manifest in the semiotic analyses that have been conducted of recordings and performances. Further, the creative personnel who are involved in music programming, including musicians, play their own role in this ongoing process of musical migration. Once again, the networks of people involved as practitioners become central to the processes and systems through which diasporic audiences are re-produced and engaged. Conclusion The BBC WS can claim to be a global and local cultural intermediary not only because the service was set up to engage with the British diaspora in an international context but because the service, today, is demonstrably a voice that is continually negotiating multi-ethnic audiences both in the UK and across the world. At best, the World Service is a dynamic facilitator of conversations within and across diasporas: ideas are relocated, translated, and travel in different directions. The “local” of a British broadcasting service, established to promote British values across the globe, has been transformed, both through its engagements with an increasingly diverse set of diasporic audiences and through the transformations in how diasporas themselves self-define and operate. On the BBC WS, demographic, social, and cultural changes mean that the global is now to be found in the local of the UK and any simplistic separation of local and global is no longer tenable. The educative role once adopted by the BBC, and then the World Service, nevertheless still persists in other contexts (“from Ambridge to Afghanistan”), and clearly the WS still treads a dangerous path between the paternalism and patriarchy of its colonial past and its responsiveness to change. In spite of competition from television, satellite, and Internet technologies which challenge the BBC’s former hegemony, the BBC World Service continues to be a dynamic space for (re)creating and (re)instating diasporic audiences: audiences, texts, and broadcasters intersect with social, economic, political, and cultural forces. The monologic “voice of empire” has been countered and translated into the language of diversity and while, at times, the relationship between continuity and change may be seen to exist in awkward tension, it is clear that the Corporation is adapting to the needs of its twenty-first century audience. ReferencesAnderson, Benedict. Imagined Communities, Reflections of the Origin and Spread of Nationalism. London: Verso, 1983. Anderssen, Matilda. “Digital Diasporas.” 2010. 30 Nov. 2010 ‹http://www8.open.ac.uk/researchprojects/diasporas/cross-research/digital-diasporas›. Bhabha, Homi. The Location of Culture. London: Routledge, 1994. Briggs, Asa. 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Phillip Noyce is one of Australia’s most prominent film makers—a successful feature film director with both iconic Australian narratives and many a Hollywood blockbuster under his belt. Still, his beginnings were quite humble and far from his role today when he grew up in the midst of the counterculture of the late sixties. Millions of young people his age joined the various ‘movements’ of the day after experiences that changed their lives—mostly music but also drugs or fashion. The counterculture was a turbulent time in Sydney artistic circles as elsewhere. Everything looked possible, you simply had to “Do It!”—and Noyce did. He dived head-on into these times and with a voracious appetite for its many aspects—film, theatre, rallies, music, art and politics in general. In fact he often was the driving force behind such activities. Noyce described his personal epiphany occurring in 1968: A few months before I was due to graduate from high school, […] I saw a poster on a telegraph pole advertising American 'underground' movies. There was a mesmerising, beautiful blue-coloured drawing on the poster that I later discovered had been designed by an Australian filmmaker called David Perry. The word 'underground' conjured up all sorts of delights to an eighteen-year-old in the late Sixties: in an era of censorship it promised erotica, perhaps; in an era of drug-taking it promised some clandestine place where marijuana, or even something stronger, might be consumed; in an era of confrontation between conservative parents and their affluent post-war baby-boomer children, it promised a place where one could get together with other like-minded youth and plan to undermine the establishment, which at that time seemed to be the aim of just about everyone aged under 30. (Petzke 8) What the poster referred to was a new, highly different type of film. In the US these films were usually called “underground”. This term originates from film critic Manny Farber who used it in his 1957 essay Underground Films. Farber used the label for films whose directors today would be associated with independent and art house feature films. More directly, film historian Lewis Jacobs referred to experimental films when he used the words “film which for most of its life has led an underground existence” (8). The term is used interchangeably with New American Cinema. It was based on a New York group—the Film-Makers’ Co-operative—that started in 1960 with mostly low-budget filmmakers under the guidance of Jonas Mekas. When in 1962 the group was formally organised as a means for new, improved ways of distributing their works, experimental filmmakers were the dominant faction. They were filmmakers working in a more artistic vein, slightly influenced by the European Avant-garde of the 1920s and by attempts in the late 1940s and early 1950s. In film history, this era is also known as the Third Avant-garde. In their First Statement of the New American Cinema Group, the group drew connections to both the British Free Cinema and the French Nouvelle Vague. They also claimed that contemporary cinema was “morally corrupt, aesthetically obsolete, thematically superficial, temperamentally boring” (80). An all-encompassing definition of Underground Film never was available. Sheldon Renan lists some of the problems: There are underground films in which there is no movement and films in which there is nothing but movement. There are films about people and films about light. There are short, short underground films and long, long underground films. There are some that have been banned, and there is one that was nominated for an Academy Award. There are sexy films and sexless films, political films and poetical films, film epigrams and film epics … underground film is nothing less than an explosion of cinematic styles, forms and directions. (Renan 17) No wonder that propelled by frequent serious articles in the press—notably Jonas Mekas in the Village Voice—and regular screenings at other venues like the Film-makers’ Cinemathèque and the Gallery of Modern Art in New York, these films proved increasingly popular in the United States and almost immediately spread like bush fires around the world. So in early September 1968 Noyce joined a sold-out crowd at the Union Theatre in Sydney, watching 17 shorts assembled by Ubu Films, the premier experimental and underground film collective in 1960s Australia (Milesago). And on that night his whole attitude to art, his whole attitude to movies—in fact, his whole life—changed. He remembered: I left the cinema that night thinking, "I’m gonna make movies like that. I can do it." Here was a style of cinema that seemed to speak to me. It was immediate, it was direct, it was personal, and it wasn’t industrial. It was executed for personal expression, not for profit; it was individual as opposed to corporate, it was stylistically free; it seemed to require very little expenditure, innovation being the key note. It was a completely un-Hollywood-like aesthetic; it was operating on a visceral level that was often non-linear and was akin to the psychedelic images that were in vogue at the time—whether it was in music, in art or just in the patterns on your multi-coloured shirt. These movies spoke to me. (Petzke 9) Generally speaking, therefore, these films were the equivalent of counterculture in the area of film. Theodore Roszak railed against “technocracy” and underground films were just the opposite, often almost do-it-yourself in production and distribution. They were objecting to middle-class culture and values. And like counterculture they aimed at doing away with repression and to depict a utopian lifestyle feeling at ease with each imaginable form of liberality (Doggett 469). Underground films transgressed any Hollywood rule and convention in content, form and technique. Mobile hand-held cameras, narrow-gauge or outright home movies, shaky and wobbly, rapid cutting, out of focus, non-narrative, disparate continuity—you name it. This type of experimental film was used to express the individual consciousness of the “maker”—no longer calling themselves directors—a cinematic equivalent of the first person in literature. Just as in modern visual art, both the material and the process of making became part of these artworks. Music often was a dominant factor, particularly Eastern influences or the new Beat Music that was virtually non-existent in feature films. Drug experiences were reflected in imagery and structure. Some of the first comings-out of gay men can be found as well as films that were shown at the appropriately named “Wet Dreams Festival” in Amsterdam. Noyce commented: I worked out that the leading lights in this Ubu Films seemed to be three guys — Aggy Read, Albie Thoms and David Perry […They] all had beards and […] seemed to come from the basement of a terrace house in Redfern. Watching those movies that night, picking up all this information, I was immediately seized by three great ambitions. First of all, I wanted to grow a beard; secondly, I wanted to live in a terrace house in the inner city; and thirdly, I wanted to be a filmmaker. (Ubu Films) Noyce soon discovered there were a lot of people like him who wanted to make short films for personal expression, but also as a form of nationalism. They wanted to make Australian movies. Noyce remembered: “Aggy, Albie and David encouraged everyone to go and make a film for themselves” (Petzke 11). This was easy enough to do as these films—not only in Australia—were often made for next to nothing and did not require any prior education or training. And the target audience group existed in a subculture of people willing to pay money even for extreme entertainment as long as it was advertised in an appealing way—which meant: in the way of the rampaging Zeitgeist. Noyce—smitten by the virus—would from then on regularly attend the weekly meetings organised by the young filmmakers. And in line with Jerry Rubin’s contemporary adage “Do it!” he would immediately embark on a string of films with enthusiasm and determination—qualities soon to become his trademark. All his films were experimental in nature, shot on 16mm and were so well received that Albie Thoms was convinced that Noyce had a great career ahead of him as an experimental filmmaker. Truly alternative was Noyce’s way to finally finance Better to Reign in Hell, his first film, made at age 18 and with a total budget of $600. Noyce said on reflection: I had approached some friends and told them that if they invested in my film, they could have an acting role. Unfortunately, the guy whose dad had the most money — he was a doctor’s son — was also maybe the worst actor that was ever put in front of a camera. But he had invested four hundred dollars, so I had to give him the lead. (Petzke 13) The title was taken from Milton’s poem Paradise Lost (“better to reign in hell than serve in heaven”). It was a film very much inspired by the images, montage and narrative techniques of the underground movies watched at Ubu. Essentially the film is about a young man’s obsession with a woman he sees repeatedly in advertising and the hallucinogenic dreams he has about her. Despite its later reputation, the film was relatively mundane. Being shot in black and white, it lacks the typical psychedelic ingredients of the time and is more reminiscent of the surrealistic precursors to underground film. Some contempt for the prevailing consumer society is thrown in for good measure. In the film, “A youth is persecuted by the haunting reappearance of a girl’s image in various commercial outlets. He finds escape from this commercial brainwashing only in his own confused sexual hallucinations” (Sydney Filmmakers Co-operative). But despite this advertising, so convincingly capturing the “hint! hint!” mood of the time, Noyce’s first film isn’t really outstanding even in terms of experimental film. Noyce continued to make short experimental films. There was not even the pretence of a story in any of them. He was just experimenting with his gear and finding his own way to use the techniques of the underground cinema. Megan was made at Sydney University Law School to be projected as part of the law students’ revue. It was a three-minute silent film that featured a woman called Megan, who he had a crush on. Intersection was 2 minutes 44 seconds in length and shot in the middle of a five-way or four-way intersection in North Sydney. The camera was walked into the intersection and spun around in a continuous circle from the beginning of the roll of film to the end. It was an experiment with disorientation and possibly a comment about urban development. Memories was a seven-minute short in colour about childhood and the bush, accompanied by a smell-track created in the cinema by burning eucalyptus leaves. Sun lasted 90 seconds in colour and examined the pulsating winter sun by way of 100 single frame shots. And finally, Home was a one-and-a-half-minute single frame camera exploration of the filmmaker’s home, inside and out, including its inhabitants and pets. As a true experimental filmmaker, Noyce had a deep interest in technical aspects. It was recommended that Sun “be projected through a special five image lens”, Memories and Intersection with “an anamorphic lens” (Sydney Filmmakers Co-operative). The double projection for Better to Reign in Hell and the two screens required for Good Afternoon, as well as the addition of the smell of burning leaves in Memories, were inroads into the subgenre of so-called Expanded Cinema. As filmmaking in those days was not an isolated enterprise but an integral part of the all-encompassing Counterculture, Noyce followed suit and became more and more involved and politiced. He started becoming a driving force of the movement. Besides selling Ubu News, he organised film screenings. He also wrote film articles for both Honi Soit and National U, the Sydney University and Canberra University newspapers—articles more opinionated than sophisticated. He was also involved in Ubu’s Underground Festival held in August and in other activities of the time, particularly anti-war protests. When Ubu Films went out of business after the lack of audience interest in Thoms’s long Marinetti film in 1969, Aggy Read suggested that Ubu be reinvented as a co-operative for tax reasons and because they might benefit from their stock of 250 Australian and foreign films. On 28 May 1970 the reinvention began at the first general meeting of the Sydney Filmmakers Cooperative where Noyce volunteered and was elected their part-time manager. He transferred the 250 prints to his parents’ home in Wahroonga where he was still living he said he “used to sit there day after day just screening those movies for myself” (Petzke 18). The Sydney University Film Society screened feature films to students at lunchtime. Noyce soon discovered they had money nobody was spending and equipment no one was using, which seemed to be made especially for him. In the university cinema he would often screen his own and other shorts from the Co-op’s library. The entry fee was 50 cents. He remembered: “If I handed out the leaflets in the morning, particularly concentrating on the fact that these films were uncensored and a little risqué, then usually there would be 600 people in the cinema […] One or two screenings per semester would usually give me all the pocket money I needed to live” (Petzke 19). Libertine and risqué films were obviously popular as they were hard to come by. Noyce said: We suffered the worst censorship of almost any Western country in the world, even worse than South Africa. Books would be seized by customs officers at the airports and when ships docked. Customs would be looking for Lady Chatterley’s Lover. We were very censored in literature and films and plays, and my film [Better to Reign in Hell] was banned from export. I tried to send it to a film festival in Holland and it was denied an export permit, but because it had been shot in Australia, until someone in the audience complained it could still be screened locally. (Castaway's Choice) No wonder clashes with the law happened frequently and were worn like medals of honour in those days of fighting the system, proving that one was fighting in the front line against the conservative values of law and order. Noyce encountered three brushes with the law. The first occurred when selling Ubu Films’ alternative culture newspaper Ubu News, Australia’s first underground newspaper (Milesago). One of the issues contained an advertisement—a small drawing—for Levi’s jeans, showing a guy trying to put his Levis on his head, so that his penis was showing. That was judged by the police to be obscene. Noyce was found guilty and given a suspended sentence for publishing an indecent publication. There had been another incident including Phil’s Pill, his own publication of six or eight issues. After one day reprinting some erotic poems from The Penguin Collection of Erotic Poetry he was found guilty and released on a good behaviour bond without a conviction being recorded. For the sake of historical truth it should be remembered, though, that provocation was a genuine part of the game. How else could one seriously advertise Better to Reign in Hell as “a sex-fantasy film which includes a daring rape scene”—and be surprised when the police came in after screening this “pornographic film” (Stratton 202) at the Newcastle Law Students Ball? The Newcastle incident also throws light on the fact that Noyce organised screenings wherever possible, constantly driving prints and projectors around in his Mini Minor. Likewise, he is remembered as having been extremely helpful in trying to encourage other people with their own ideas—anyone could make films and could make them about anything they liked. He helped Jan Chapman, a fellow student who became his (first) wife in December 1971, to shoot and edit Just a Little Note, a documentary about a moratorium march and a guerrilla theatre group run by their friend George Shevtsov. Noyce also helped on I Happened to Be a Girl, a documentary about four women, friends of Chapman. There is no denying that being a filmmaker was a hobby, a full-time job and an obsessive religion for Noyce. He was on the organising committee of the First Australian Filmmakers’ Festival in August 1971. He performed in the agit-prop acting troupe run by George Shevtsov (later depicted in Renegades) that featured prominently at one of Sydney’s rock festival that year. In the latter part of 1971 and early 1972 he worked on Good Afternoon, a documentary about the Combined Universities’ Aquarius Arts Festival in Canberra, which arguably was the first major manifestation of counterculture in Australia. For this the Aquarius Foundation—the cultural arm of the Australian Union of Students—had contracted him. This became a two-screen movie à la Woodstock. Together with Thoms, Read and Ian Stocks, in 1972 he participated in cataloguing the complete set of films in distribution by the Co-op (see Sydney Filmmakers Cooperative). As can be seen, Noyce was at home in many manifestations of the Sydney counterculture. His own films had slowly become more politicised and bent towards documentary. He even started a newsreel that he used to screen at the Filmmakers’ Cooperative Cinema with a live commentary. One in 1971, Springboks Protest, was about the demonstrations at the Sydney Cricket Ground against the South African rugby tour. There were more but Noyce doesn’t remember them and no prints seem to have survived. Renegades was a diary film; a combination of poetic images and reportage on the street demonstrations. Noyce’s experimental films had been met with interest in the—limited—audience and among publications. His more political films and particularly Good Afternoon, however, reached out to a much wider audience, now including even the undogmatic left and hard-core documentarists of the times. In exchange, and for the first time, there were opposing reactions—but as always a great discussion at the Filmmakers’ Cinema, the main venue for independent productions. This cinema began with those initial screenings at Sydney University in the union room next to the Union Theatre. But once the Experimental Film Fund started operating in 1970, more and more films were submitted for the screenings and consequently a new venue was needed. Albie Thoms started a forum in the Yellow House in Kings Cross in May 1970. Next came—at least briefly—a restaurant in Glebe before the Co-op took over a space on the top floor of the socialist Third World Bookshop in Goulburn Street that was a firetrap. Bob Gould, the owner, was convinced that by first passing through his bookshop the audience would buy his books on the way upstairs. Sundays for him were otherwise dead from a commercial point of view. Noyce recollected that: The audience at this Filmmakers’ Cinema were mightily enthusiastic about seeing themselves up on the screen. And there was always a great discussion. So, generally the screenings were a huge success, with many full houses. The screenings grew from once a week, to three times on Sunday, to all weekend, and then seven days a week at several locations. One program could play in three different illegal cinemas around the city. (Petzke 26) A filmmakers’ cinema also started in Melbourne and the groups of filmmakers would visit each other and screen their respective films. But especially after the election of the Whitlam Labor government in December 1972 there was a shift in interest from risqué underground films to the concept of Australian Cinema. The audience started coming now for a dose of Australian culture. Funding of all kind was soon freely available and with such a fund the film co-op was able to set up a really good licensed cinema in St. Peters Lane in Darlinghurst, running seven days a week. But, Noyce said, “the move to St. Peters Lane was sort of the end of an era, because initially the cinema was self-funded, but once it became government sponsored everything changed” (Petzke 29). With money now readily available, egotism set in and the prevailing “we”-feeling rather quickly dissipated. But by the time of this move and the resulting developments, everything for Noyce had already changed again. He had been accepted into the first intake of the Interim Australian Film & TV School, another one of the nation-awareness-building projects of the Whitlam government. He was on his “long march through the institutions”—as this was frequently called throughout Europe—that would bring him to documentaries, TV and eventually even Hollywood (and return). Noyce didn’t linger once the alternative scene started fading away. Everything those few, wild years in the counterculture had taught him also put him right on track to become one of the major players in Hollywood. He never looked back—but he remembers fondly…References Castaway’s Choice. Radio broadcast by KCRW. 1990. Doggett, Peter. There’s a Riot Going On: Revolutionaries, Rock Stars and the Rise and Fall of ’60s Counter-Culture. Edinburgh: Canongate, 2007. Farber, Manny. “Underground Films.” Negative Space: Manny Farber on the Movies. Ed. Manny Farber. New York: Da Capo, 1998. 12–24. Jacobs, Lewis. “Morning for the Experimental Film”. Film Culture 19 (1959): 6–9. Milesago. “Ubu Films”. n.d. 26 Nov. 2014 ‹http://www.milesago.com/visual/ubu.htm›. New American Cinema Group. “First Statement of the New American Cinema Group.” Film Culture Reader. Ed. P. Adams Sitney. New York: Praeger, 1970. 73–75. Petzke, Ingo. Phillip Noyce: Backroads to Hollywood. Sydney: Pan McMillan, 2004. Renan, Sheldon. The Underground Film: An Introduction to Its Development in America. London: Studio Vista, 1968. Roszak, Theodore. The Making of Counter Culture. New York: Anchor, 1969. Stratton, David. The Last New Wave: The Australian Film Revival. Sydney: Angus and Robertson, 1980. Sydney Filmmakers Co-operative. Film Catalogue. Sydney: Sydney Filmmakers Co-operative, 1972. Ubu Films. Unreleased five-minute video for the promotion of Mudie, Peter. Ubu Films: Sydney Underground Movies 1965-1970. Sydney: UNSW Press, 1997.